Wow, I don't even have an excuse for taking so long with this. All I can offer is the fact that I've been doing a whole mess of research for this.
Katerina Riley- I object to your accusation. I'm most certainly not a woman. (Evil, I'll cop to)
Bookworm Gal- It only gets more upsetting (with brief flickers of brightness) from here on out, just so ya know.
Lord Xantos A. Fowl - Scrappy is not currently around, likely adopted by some farm family or something. I'll probably work him in somewhere down the line, though.
12
"A 'not-undeath' rose?" Miss Grimwood frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"That's what it said." Velma didn't bother to look at the Headmistress, instead focusing on piling food (mostly fruits and vegetables, though a slab of steak had been scrounged up from somewhere as well) onto her plate. Once Sibella was no longer in the forefront of her thoughts, the dark knot of anger in her stomach had loosened and her hunger had returned with a vengeance. She knew that her tone and actions were less than polite, but she was still vexed enough to not care. In her current mood, she wanted nothing more than to get her answers, solve the mystery, and then leave, research be damned. "You ever hear of anything like that before?"
"Not living, not undead, yet risen..." Whether it was due to years of dealing with Winnie's table-manners, or merely great tact and graciousness, Miss Grimwood paid Velma's rudeness no mind. "Something about that feels familiar..."
"Bit of a paradox, isn't it?" Tanis added quietly, her previous simmering anger replaced with a weary sullenness. Even in her less inquisitive state, Velma wondered if the youngest ghoul hadn't begun to slip towards the Melancholy stage. "Can't be, but is."
"Yes, quite." Grimwood looked over to the mummy, realization alighting in her eyes. "A Necromancer's Paradox." Abruptly, she jumped from her seat and dashed out of the room (which, considering her size and stature, was more of a quick shuffle). Velma spared a glance after her, but quickly returned to her meal; Either Grimwood had happened upon a relevant notion, or she hadn't. In both cases, the woman would be back eventually, so the researcher saw no need to bother herself with the details. Somewhere in her thoughts, she acknowledged that she was most certainly not herself (as bothering with the details was basically what she lived for), and then acknowledged that she didn't really care.
Shaggy made to reach for some morsel on her plate, but the 'you have displeased me' glare that she'd perfected back in the days when they had dated kept him at bay. Scooby, however, was immune to such tactics and plopped his massive head right by her plate, staring up at her with the saddest eyes he could bring to bear, his tail wagging slowly. After a few moments of glaring at him with no effect, Velma tossed a cucumber slice away from the table and the Great Dane went tromping after it. It would only buy her a few moments of peace (unless she was lucky and it rolled somewhere hard to reach), but she was willing to take what she could get.
"What else the mirror monster say?" Winnie, of course, was diametrically opposed to the concept of peace, and proceeded to badger the irate researcher. The other girls, save Tanis, looked to Velma expectantly. Well, fine; she needed to see if they knew anything about any of the proper nouns the demon had been tossing around anyway.
"Mostly nonsense. It didn't want to give me a straight answer." She lied; she was NOT going to mention how it thought she was Revolta, not if she could help it. She had enough to explain without getting into the mechanics of demonic senses and their faulty bits. (Suffice to say, mirror monsters were, in fact, quite easily fooled. Often by their own inability to tell humans apart.) "But it did say something about an Anchor. Capital A. Anyone know anything about that?"
"Did... did he say what kind of Anchor?" Elsa's face screwed up in puzzlement. "Cause that's pretty useless by itself."
"He did not." Velma began to shake her head, but her incredibly persistent headache forced her to stop short. "I'd have to assume it's magical in nature, though. Some kind of object that ties a spell or creature to one place..." Granted, that was a big assumption, but she didn't see any other viable possibilities, given her current information. "I don't suppose any of you can sense magic?"
"Uh, sorry." Elsa shrugged, giving an apologetic smile. "Purely a twisted perversion of science here."
"I can sense other spirits a mile away," Phantasma boasted proudly, thankfully without a giggle of any kind. "Buuuuuuuut magic, not so much." Winnie did not even bother answering, to the surprise of no one.
With this return to something resembling an investigation, Velma was feeling more herself. Enough so, at least, that she hesitated to ask Tanis about her magic-sensing ability. The mummy was, perhaps, more sociable than before (or, at least, less anti-social), but that hardly meant she was willing to talk. The ghoul's eyes, a burnt log brown, caught hers and narrowed slightly.
"I was made through black magic." Tanis stated flatly. "Magic is the one thing I can feel clearly." That, Velma supposed, made sense. After all, it wasn't like any of the mummy's physical senses still functioned in a proper capacity. Hearing, sight, touch, and all that probably worked via one part magic, one part psychic nonsense, and a fraction of a part physically. "The whole bog drips with it."
"Ah, perfect." The researcher sighed, annoyance evident in her voice. Finding a magical Anchor in all that 'dripping' would be beyond needles in haystacks territory, even with the magical radar of Tanis. It would be more like finding a particularly watery drop of water in a lake. And that was assuming Tanis's radar was any good. "Just how sensitive is your magic detector, then?" The mummy stared at her for a moment.
"You've got magic protection runes on your armor to keep people from casting spells on you." She said quietly. "And anti-scrying runes too." Velma frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
"Wait, how can you see-"
"They're really poorly done." Tanis shrugged apathetically, turning back to stare at her food. The researcher heaved a vexed sigh. A properly scribed anti-scrying rune was self contained, capable of being read, but not sensed. (Hiding the user as well as itself was, of course, the entire point of camouflage, mundane or magical.) Well, as they say, you get what you pay for. Next time, she'd make sure to get a higher class of magician to scribe the runes, rather than a friend of a friend of someone she'd helped out. Perhaps Miss Grimwood knew a thing or two about runes...Ah, but she was getting sidetracked.
"Ok, so, no go in the Anchor." Velma summed up the relevant bit of the conversation, to her own disappointment. (Hey, at least she managed to pick up a bit about Tanis and her own inadequate protections.) "How about someone called 'He of the Thousand Masks'? You guys know anything about that?"
The monsters in the room collectively paused as a shudder ran through each of them.
"Uh..." This was odd enough to catch even Shaggy's attention. He regarded his students with a sort of wary apprehension, unsure if he should be concerned or not. "Everything, like, alright, girls?"
"Y-yeah." Winnie's brow lowered as she attempted to puzzle out her own reaction. She whipped her head from side to side, and the motion quickly traveled down her body in a very canine shake. The action seemed to help, as she had gained a slight smile by its conclusion. "That was weird."
"Tell me about it..." Phantasma quickly bounced back to her usual cheer, though it was obviously forced. "Kinda felt like someone walked over my grave." If the statement had been meant as a joke, she (for once) gave no indication of it.
"I take it you've heard of him, then?" Velma pressed, her own manner becoming cautious as her sour mood was completely overtaken by the detective in her.
"No." Elsa's answer nearly came across as a question, the inflection twisted by her confusion. Of all the girls, she was the most rooted in logic and science (though, that didn't mean much in the company of monsters), and her inability to account for her sudden dread was not easily brushed aside. "I've never heard of him before." Though such a notion would be against the very nature of a golem as she, the feeling had almost been... instinctual.
"I have." Tanis had shifted her gaze from her meal (which still remained untouched) to her hands. Her eyes held a thousand-yard stare, glassy and empty of sight. In that moment, she looked very much like the ancient corpse that she was. There was a rather uncomfortable silence as the rest of them waited for her to continue.
"...Tanis?" Velma prompted her when she didn't speak further, hoping very much that the mummy wasn't going to slip into stony anger again.
"I remember a man..." The smallest ghoul said softly, her sight still failing to focus on those around her. "A smoke-skinned royal, on a black throne." Velma's mind flashed back to the sarcophagus in the mummy's room, to the hieroglyphics that adorned it.
"The Black Pharaoh." If the Thousand Masks creature was the Shadow Man and the royal on the sarcophagus both, then it was very old indeed. Older than any other creature Velma had come across, certainly. Tanis lifted her gaze, her head tilting as she caught the words.
"They called him that name in the chants, before the ritual." She whispered, a helplessness welling within her eyes. "Nehes, nehes, nehes. Weben em isfet. Weben em Kemet. Weben Kem Pharaoh. Weben wer neb Nyarlathotep."
The first thing Daphne became aware of was pain. Her body jerked reflexively, trying and failing to distance itself from the crushing force against her chest. In the brief instant that it took her to begin to feel the rest of the pain throughout her being, the force removed itself, and she became momentarily weightless. The weightlessness then vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and the pain returned, this time crushing in from the sides of her ribcage. It burned, pushing into her lungs and up into her throat, traveling upwards until...
Oh.
Daphne's awareness expanded, and she realized that she was throwing her guts up. This new knowledge did not remain viable for long, however, as the puking mercifully stopped in short order. The burning in her lungs and throat subsided to a satisfactory degree as well. The pain in the rest of her, however, while not so sharp as the previous had been, continued to gnaw at her limp body unabated. Aside from a possible broken rib, the redhead felt as though she were still in one piece.
Secure in this assessment, her awareness decided to kick on a few of her higher functions - thought and hearing, to start with. These, her brain had concluded, would be good for determining where she currently was. Thought got to work on recalling the last events that had occurred to her, searching for a clue or hint that might reveal her current location, while hearing took a moment to focus on all the sounds of Daphne's body. Breathing was heavy and ragged, but steady. Blood was whooshing along at an even, strong pace. Her heart was beating a touch faster than normal, but not more so than was acceptable. Good. Hearing then turned outward.
"-aphne, just breathe, that's good." Male voice, highly familiar, quiet and low. Still audible due to proximity. Thought filled in the blanks there.
"Freddie...?" Speech had slipped online unnoticed, as it often did, and Daphne's brain shifted into full consciousness at last. She blinked against the tears streaming from, and the light streaming into, her eyes, trying to focus on the mud-covered form that held her. The blonde was barely recognizable through the dirt and debris that clung to him, caked on so thickly that his own tears failed to create even the smallest of clean spots on his face.
"D-Daph?" Fred stared at her with wide, almost disbelieving eyes for a moment, before hugging her to his chest tightly. A touch tighter than was strictly comfortable, her ribs told her, but she hardly cared, hugging him back with what little strength her arms could muster. "You were, I mean, when you came out, you weren't, it looked like, I was..." His breath hitched, cutting off his babbling. "I was so worried about you, Daph."
"Fred," She buried her face into his chest, ignoring the mud, and just enjoyed being held for a long moment. It was reassuring for the both of them. "I'm ok. We're ok." Strength was quickly returning to her, and she pushed away from him just enough to take a bleary look at their surroundings. The light told her that they were aboveground, at least, though she couldn't make out much more. "Where are we?"
"I'm not sure." Freddie admitted, helping her to sit upright against him. "When those hands pulled me down, everything went dark. I guess I passed out, 'cause I woke up here." His arm tightened around her protectively. "Then the ground just sort of rolled over and there you were, just..." He looked away from her, coughing to clear his throat, before continuing. "I think we might be out of the bog." Daphne blinked several times in an attempt to sharpen her sight.
"How can you tell?" As far as she could see, which was, admittedly, not far, they were still surrounded by trees and dirt and nothing resembling human civilization. Fred took her hand and gently pressed it to the ground. To her surprise, it was soft and moist instead of dried-out and hard. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, because Freddie nodded and pulled her hand back up to her lap, idly wiping the dirt from her fingertips.
"And over there," He jerked his head to the left, away from where she was facing. "I can see grass." Well, that clinched it. No way there was anything living in the Barren Bog, Daphne was quite sure of that. The Beast, whatever it was, most certainly didn't count, not when it could snap itself back together after taking a shotgun blast to the skull. She'd seen a lot of amazing and improbably complex machines and devices in her time sleuthing, but none that could do that. Only something supernatural could pull off such a feat. Either way, be it magic or machinery, the Beast was no living thing.
"What about Abraham?" Being out of the bog did them little good without someone who knew the region; death by exposure was hardly more pleasant than death by Beast, and just as likely without a guide. Besides, he'd been in bad shape, and probably needed their help as much as they needed his. "Can you see him anywhere?" Freddie stiffened for a split second, and she saw his jaw set firmly as his shoulders subtly squared.
"He's... He'll be fine." The blonde gave her a thin smile. Fred never had been a good liar. Daphne's heart dropped.
"Fred." She reached up, cupping his cheek with one hand and directing him to look her in the eyes. "Where is he?" He fidgeted under her gaze for a moment, before sighing and looking away.
Gently, he lifted her from his lap and set her on the ground next to him, climbing to his feet. As he reached down to pick her up again, she gripped his outstretched hands and pulled herself onto her own shaky legs, the rush of blood making her dizzy for a few moments. Gripping his arm for support, she allowed her boyfriend to lead her forwards. Her first few steps were spent staring at the ground before her, but she quickly regained enough balance to raise her eyes ahead. That's when she saw Abraham.
He lay still on a patch of black dirt. Belatedly, Daphne realized that its darkness was owed to the fact that it was soaked in the man's blood. Even without his bulky furs, the Cajun was a giant of a man, and that same lack of furs displayed the full extent of his wounds to the couple. Or would have, if not for the packed on layers of dirt that clung to him even more thickly than they did Freddie and Daphne. Almost like a wet, crumbling shell, it covered him, held together with his own vital fluids. What little of him that was not black or brown was a dark, dull red.
"Oh, God..." Daphne's knees buckled under her, but Freddie caught her smoothly and guided her to the ground. The tightness around her chest vanished, and her throat opened painfully wide as she breathed deeply, unable to pull in enough air. With each quickening breath, however, a formless black grew just behind her vision, shifting in and out of sight. He was... No. Please. He'd been a crazy, angry man, but he didn't deserve to... Not like this. The blackness swelled, and she knew, distantly, that she was beginning to hyperventilate, but all she could think about was the look in his blinded eyes as he fell into the pit of hands and-
Abraham took a slow, shallow breath. The shock of it made the redhead stop, completely, as her focus snapped to his chest, watching for the telltale rise and fall to confirm that she hadn't imagined it. A few moments later, he breathed again. Daphne began to move to his side, but Fred held her shoulder.
"Careful." He advised, worry and regret etched in his face. He didn't look at her, but stared at the unconscious man. "I'm not sure if... we might make him worse if we touch him." Unfortunately, he was right. Neither of them knew much more than basic first aid, and they had no supplies anyway. Still, what else could they do? At the very least, they needed to make sure he wasn't bleeding to death.
"Freddie, we can't just..." She swallowed, not sure how to finish. Leave him unattended? Or to die?
"I know." The blonde nodded grimly. "Just rest for now, I'll check him." He patted her shoulder once and rose, taking a step towards Abraham.
That's when the ground began to shake once more.
Fred turned back to Daphne, just in time to see Abraham's truck come hurtling through the air towards them.
Too stunned to react, it was only pure chance that the vehicle's spinning kicked it just high enough after it's impact with the ground before them to send it skipping over their heads. It continued on for a fair distance, glass, metal, and clods of dirt flying about as it crashed and rolled through the sparse greenery. With a thunderous, crunching screech, the pickup plowed roof-first into a tree that was both large and living enough to withstand the impact. It stayed pressed against the trunk for a moment, before teetering back and landing solidly on its tires, which had miraculously remained inflated.
Freddie stared at the line of destruction carved by the vehicle, letting out a single shocked laugh. Daphne pulled herself to her feet, one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs, and gingerly stepped up next to him. The Beast, it seemed, was making a statement, one which ended with '...and the horse you rode in on!' On the bright side, the creature had refrained from tossing the humans about the way it had the truck.
"Fred," The heiress nudged her boyfriend out of his stupor, nodding towards the wreck. "You think the first aid kit survived that?" The blonde blinked at her, then turned back to the vehicle.
"Uh, stay here," He instructed, gesturing unnecessarily to indicate where 'here' was located. "And I'll go look." Daphne didn't feel quite up to walking about too much just yet anyway, so this plan was fine with her. She took the opportunity to examine Abraham more closely.
His breathing was still shallow, but it was steady, at least. What little she could see of his burns seemed to not be bleeding, though though the dirt could easily have been masking that. On the other hand, the dirt may well have been acting as a compress on his wounds, albeit an incredibly unsanitary one. The real question, the most important one, was whether or not he could be moved without causing fatal damage. A very Velma-like mental voice informed her that, logically, it was a moot point, as they had no choice but to risk it. He would, after all, die for certain if left out here. It also pointed out, with some degree of optimism, that both she and Freddie had not been harmed by their eviction from the bog, so it stood to reason that Abraham likely had not been either. So, just the horrible burns and possible lung damage, then.
"Hey, Daph!" Freddie extricated himself from the ruined truck, waving a badly beaten aid kit about. "I found it!" Despite the situation, his voice was steadily creeping back towards cheerfulness; no matter what happened, the man could not be kept down. Daphne felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, due to both the finding of the kit and the man who did so. He quickly returned to her side, scraping mud from the kit's casing. Hopefully, the inside was still clean.
"Ah, good." The redhead took the first aid kit from Freddie's dirt-encased hands. "I guess it's pointless to ask, but is there any chance of us driving out of here?"
"Judging from the beating it took just now, and the way the inside is full of dirt?" He shook his head. "Not today. If there's even a half that much under the hood, I'd be surprised if it ever runs again." Well, it had been a distant hope anyway. "How's he looking?"
"Not dead." Daphne said firmly, popping the kit open. The seal had held, and the inside was perfectly pristine. "I'm going to try to keep him that way."
"I'll check over the truck for anything we can use." Fred shrugged, a bit helplessly. Daphne was better at patching people up than he was, and the situation didn't allow them the luxury of both turning their attention to Abraham anyway. "Something had to have survived." Hopefully, something that would help them survive.
"Hm." The redhead had stopped paying attention to her boyfriend, focusing wholly on the injured man before her. She could do this. She'd taken a class on first aid... more years ago than she was comfortable with. She took a slow breath. "Ok, ABCs."
Airway and breathing, those were obviously in order. As for circulation, she found upon checking his pulse at the wrist, it was steady and surprisingly strong. That was reassuring. His skin pallor, what little she could see of it, was definitely too pale, and his skin felt slightly cold. Given his pulse and breathing, she didn't think he'd gone into shock yet, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Carefully, she tapped him lightly on his unburned cheek.
"Abraham..." She tapped twice more, a touch more forcefully. "Abraham, can you hear me?" Despite her attempts, he gave no indications of rousing. Not the best sign. For the moment, it seemed she'd have to do without his help. Ok, she knew this. Leaving aside the mental half of things, what were her next steps?
Step one, damage assessment. Bleeding, Breaks, Burns, and Bodies. Bleeding was surprisingly minimal for the amount of blood covering him. The dirt packed onto him was responsible for plugging him up, she assumed. Breaks, she could not find, though she'd need him awake to tell her for sure. Burns, well, those were plentiful. Even with the furs taking the brunt of the flames, most of Abraham's face and arms were covered in second and third, creeping into fourth degree burns. At least three quarters of his hair was gone, with the rest badly scorched. The sight of his twisted, bubbled, and in some places blackened flesh was both horrifying and nauseating, like rotting steak and half-tanned leather merged into one, with a dash of overcooked bacon... As for bodies, that is to say, foreign bodies, she found nothing but the ubiquitous dirt.
This, naturally, led to step two: treatment, starting with the most threatening injury. The burns were, of course, the most pressing problem. Not only were they the source of the bleeding, they were practically magnets for infection and an open invitation for shock. Unfortunately, her first aid kit lacked the most important tool for cleaning said burns. She needed clean water, and lots of it. The dirt couldn't be allowed to stay, it was far too, well, dirty, but she couldn't risk using a cloth or bandage to wipe it away. With severe burns, the lightest of touches could cause extensive damage, and she didn't have the training to clean such wounds. She shook her head to clear away the ensuing mental image.
"Freddie," She stepped away from the Cajun, calling out to the blonde as he rummaged about on his knees in the truck's bed. The best way she could help Abraham was to get him to a hospital before his condition worsened. "Find anything?"
"Up front," Freddie waved his hand without looking at her, focusing on whatever he'd found. "We've got one canteen, a couple of power bars, and a bunch of shotgun shells. Haven't found the shotgun." He sat back for a moment and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, which smeared the dirt on both spectacularly. "Back here, though, jackpot." He nodded her over with a grin. "Check it out; most of my trap made it."
"Honey..." Her voice trailed off warningly, the slightly more intimate than usual nickname conveying just how carefully he needed to select his next words. She tried to be an understanding girlfriend, but this was most certainly not the time to indulge his trap obsession.
"Uh," Fred floundered for a moment. "The useful parts of my trap made it." He amended. "I mean, they're covered in mud, but we can make all kinds of stuff out of 'em. I mean, with the ropes and tarps alone we've got a tent, or a sled-stretcher-thing to pull Abraham on, or a raincatcher, all kinds of stuff." Daphne felt this was much more acceptable than an incomplete monster trap.
"Good, that's... yeah." She nodded, looking at the various components. "Let's do that sled idea. We can't wait around for him to wake up, we need to get out of here as soon as we can."
Daphne had always been impressed by, and sometimes envious of, Freddie's building skills, but now she was simply grateful for them. Under his direction, the two of them quickly whipped together a snug wrapping, padded with the truck's seat stuffing, to keep the Cajun from being jostled too much as they pulled him on the sled. The sled itself was little more than a frame made from pieces of the truck and the trap, with two of the air tanks from the trap lying underneath it to become makeshift wheels. It wasn't pretty, and they couldn't turn it without taking the frame off the tanks and setting them to roll in the right direction, but it allowed them to move the large man and all their scavenged supplies.
Before they wrapped him up, the redhead used as much water from the canteen as she dared to try and clean some of the dirt from Abraham's burns. It wasn't much, but even the relative cleanliness was a huge step up. For good measure she practically drowned them in disinfectant and topical antibiotics before wrapping them with a single layer of the lightest gauze in the kit. All throughout, he did not stir. Hopefully, and that was a word Daphne was very quickly becoming attached to, the little medicine she'd practiced and Freddie's sled would see him to safety.
After packing the supplies and man into the sled, however, they found themselves met with a problem. Namely, they had no clue where they were. It stood to reason, by dint of the Beast's territorial monsterdom and the greenery around them, that they were out of the bog. And, judging by the position of the afternoon sun and the trail left by the truck, they were, in fact, East of said bog. This, however, did them little good. The bog was, from what they remembered of the map, a very irregular shape, with many dips and bumps and wavy boundaries. The fact that it was West of them at this specific point did nothing to tell them if it was merely a small outcropping of bog standing between them and the highway, or if it was a path directly through the heart of the whole thing.
Freddie put forth the idea of simply following the outer edge of the bog, as that would eventually lead them to the highway. Daphne, however, pointed out that the bog stretched for miles in every direction, and going around it the wrong way could take more time than Abraham had to spare. Fred, of course, countered that standing around doing nothing wasn't exactly helping either. Daphne responded to this by making him climb a tree.
"Anything?" She called up to him. Tightly clinging to the trunk as he was, he still managed to shake his head quite visibly.
"This tree's not tall enough." He yelled down. "I can't see past all these other trees." This was rather unfortunate, as the tree he was in was the only tree in the immediate area that wasn't too dead to hold his weight higher up. "What now?"
"Now? Get down from there!" The heiress demanded. Despite the fact that she had ordered him up there in the first place, she was still quite concerned for him. "Carefully." To be honest, she was now wishing she hadn't told him to do something so risky in the first place; the last thing they needed was for him to fall and hurt himself.
"Ok, I'm..." He trailed off, staring at something she couldn't see. "Uh, how many white owls do you think are out here?"
"What?" Leaving aside the fact that she was no wildlife expert, this really wasn't the time for... Oh. "Wait, do you see Nivicolum?" Even as she asked, the bird in question alighted on a branch next to Freddie, staring at him with half-lidded eyes.
"I see Nivicolum."
Velma's grasp of the Egyptian language, ancient or otherwise, was (at least in her opinion) sub-par. Still, there were a few words she'd picked up on within the chant. Pharaoh was an obvious one, of course. Kem (the colour black, which, if she recalled correctly, was associated with fertility) and its derivative, Kemet (the ancient name for Egypt, literally Black Land, after the mud left behind by the Nile's annual overflow), she picked out as well. Nehes and Weben (roughly meaning awaken and rise, perhaps?), she was less sure of. She was relatively certain the chant was, in fact, a prayer of some kind, considering the inclusion of yet another unknown proper noun. She sighed to herself, scribbling away in the notebook she'd pilfered from Shaggy.
The Witch of the Web (Powerful witch, based in Louisiana. Deceased. Connected with (creator of?) the Anchor). The Mirror Monster (Servant of the late Witch of the Web. Provides unverified info. Find him a mirror).The Shadow (Apparently intelligent figure, roughly human in shape. Likely psychic. Apparently searching for the Anchor).The Anchor (Unknown. Possibly some kind of spell or magical object?). The Black Pharaoh (Ancient Egyptian royal of some kind. Invoked during a ritual. Possibly connected with the Shadow or Nyarlethotep). He of the Thousand Masks (Possible alternate name for the Shadow). The Necromancer's Paradox (Unknown, ask Grimwood for more info). Nyarlethotep (Unknown. Invoked during Egyptian ritual. Possible connection with Black Pharaoh).
It wasn't much, but it was at least a first step to building a new journal. Not like she had much else to do at the moment, anyway. Tanis's chanting had quickly devolved into an outburst of rage, complete with shattered plates and incoherent shrieking. Winnie made the mistake of trying to calm the mummy down, and ended up getting tossed across the room by her animate wrapping. She landed on her feet, no harm done, but the whole thing was a bit of a scare for everyone, Tanis included. Needless to say, lunch ended after that. The littlest ghoul was down in her tomb now, with both Shaggy and Grimwood attending to her. Phantasma was, presumably, filling in Sibella on the events, Winnie had defaulted to her standard of doing wolf things outside, and Elsa was... well, somewhere.
Velma was seriously considering never speaking to Tanis again, with the way each attempt was resulting in larger and larger meltdowns.
So, here she sat, in the ruins of her room (which she still had not really cleaned up), writing down every pertinent fact related to the case. She attempted a timeline of the events she knew of, but it became rather skewed when she factored in the ritual Tanis mentioned. A two-thousand year gap tended to do that. As much as she enjoyed a mystery, this one was starting to take on a shape that she suspected was way above her paygrade. Still, it wasn't like she could just leave it alone. Even without her commitment to Shaggy, solving mysteries was simply what she did.
Ok, so she needed more information. She'd gotten all she could about the Witch and the Shadow from Shaggy. Asking Tanis about the Pharaoh or Nyarlethotep was currently out of the question. Grimwood was too busy at the moment to explain the Necromancer's Paradox. The remaining girls likely didn't have any information that she didn't already have. And, for the life of her, she couldn't find a library of any kind in the building. The Mirror Monster was, of course, in a location that she had no intention of returning to alone. Fantastic. It seemed she'd have to work on pure-
Scree!
Velma jumped at the screech, bringing up her pencil defensively (because that was so much better than the knife she wore on her hip) as she whirled towards the window. She blinked slowly at the creature hanging from the branch outside her window. It looked like a bat, in part. It had the right size, the same basic shape and wing-type. But, it also had features like no other mammal she knew of. It had a sharp, almost beak-like mouth and long, segmented fingers that gave it the look of an arachnid. It seemed to be grinning at her.
And there wasn't one. There were dozens of them hanging from the tree's branches, with a cloud numbering in the hundreds swooping towards the school.
