Darkness Is Ever Present
Author's Note: This organisation does not appear at all in the game, so don't go looking! The characters,except for the reference to the ancients,are mine - I am particularly fond of the main two....
Chapter 13:2 – The Malus Conspicere
'...The one searching for mirth. In a darken world. We all make mistakes; Erring, a human state....' – Jane Rochester
'Malus Conspicere' is a branch off the Evigilare, a secret order which watches all types of paranormal activity, their motto is 'always here and ever watchful.' The 'Malus Conspicere' deals with the Ancients and their minions activities. This particular branch is almost as old as the order itself.
'Velcome, lady and gentlemen. I understand we all know why we are gathered here.' Von Hindenburg said in his booming voice.
The gathering sat around a large, antique wooden table, Von Hindenburg at the head. All 11 of them were wearing black hooded cloaks with a small crest of their order, 'Malus Conspicere,' (two blue tendrils wrapping around a jeweled two-edged sword, with the organization name in silver letters,) emblazoned on the left side of the chest.
One man uncomfortably looked around; all the other people seemed to know what was going on apart from him.
'Ah yes, Cooper. You arrived today, didn't you?' Von Hindenburg queried.
'Yes, Baron.' Cooper replied, starting to shift uneasily in his chair, under their gaze.
'Would you like to explain, De Bough?' Hindenburg asked the sullen faced man opposite Cooper.
'As you probably know our order so far has been a passive one, observing humanities struggle with the ancients for the pastthousand years but not to intervene. However the ancients are weak and Mantarok is slowly dying in his tomb. We have been forced to revive an ancient – Ulyoath namely. His guardians have been killing off lesser members every week for the past few months, his demands have been written in blood in a letter received a couple of days ago.' He said stiffly, in his posh French accent. 'To "Give a sacrifice!...outside the morgue of Berlin, lest I bring death upon all of you!" But we are still undecided on what action to take. If we give in now, will it demand more? '
'We have no choice but to give in!' Hindenburg cut in. De Bough stared at him with malice; the two had a struggle for power of this section of the organization several years before and Hindenburg had come out on top. The younger man settled for second-in-command but was still resentful towards him.
'What will we do then? It seems hopeless!' Cooper said.
'What do we all think? I suggest we give a sacrifice and it will not be appeased with any lesser member! It will have to be one of us!' Hindenburg glanced at each of their faces in turn. 'Every one in favour raise their hand!'
They all voted unanimously.
Hindenburg's face darkened. 'We will decide by the urn.' Which had been placed in the centre of the table. 'Each of us shall draw out a pebble; the person with the black stone will be the sacrifice.'
Everyone looked timidly at the urn; the Baron saw that he should set the example by going first. He dipped his hand in and it emerged clasping a white stone. The others followed suit, each drawing out a pebble until only DeBourgh remained.
He started to perspire. 'I don't see the point of taking one out!'
'Very well, meet me in the hall at eleven o'clock tomorrow night. That will give you enough time to finish any business you have left undone.' He morbidly informed him, raising himself from his seat. 'I am tired; I think I will go to my bed chamber!'
He rose and strode out of the room. The others did the same, their eyes averted from DeBourgh as they left. He remained deep in meditation, he felt as condemned men have felt for eons. The despair of not being able of help themselves and the fear of what was to come. He did not sleep that night, since he felt that he would soon be in eternal slumber. Instead he decided to read some books from the library on witchcraft, to learn some spells which may come in useful.
The day's light was slowly fading and the night was approaching swiftly. DeBourgh leant his head against the Limousine's window, which had been misted by his breath. It felt a shame to die on a cold winter's night, so near Christmas, he thought to himself.
Beside him sat the Baron. He had insisted on coming with him to give him moral support, yet he knew the real reason was to make sure that he did not try to flee. This was unnecessary since DeBourgh was an honourable man and would die if it would save others.
The car came to a halt. They had reached their destination. DeBourgh sorrowfully opened the door; he winced at the surge of cold and the bitter wind, if only for a second, then made his way towards the morgue. He turned back once towards the departing Limousine, how he longed to be back in there.
For several minutes he stood outside the morgue, unsure of what to do next. Then he heard a voice whisper to him, 'this way.' The entrance door swung open and he proceeded.
He followed the footsteps, until he came into the main body storage room of the facility. A few cadavers had been left out and what appeared to be partially eaten; he stepped forward to take a closer look. Immediately the door slammed shut and bolted.
He spun around to face his adversary. Before him stood, a man over six-foot tall with light graying hair, out of youth but not quite middle aged and piecing blue eyes. He gasped as he saw him, for he was looking upon himself.
'Not quite!' It said in the same French accent, although there was something distinctly echoic, which was not present in the originals.
'What are you?' DeBough asked, taking a few steps back.
The clone did not reply, only let out an evil cackle. He walked towards one of the cadavers lying on the examination table. It stroked its head affectionately and whispered something of another language to it. Immediately a creature burst forth from its chest in spray of blood.
DeBough stared at it wide eyed and his mouth open in a silent scream. The clone approached him cautiously, DeBourgh stepped back until his back was against the wall.
'Don't be afraid! All at once you will understand, the universe will make sense and I will make you see past this veil. I have chosen you! I watched as each of you placed your hand in the urn and drew forth a stone – I made them pick the white ones. You're Hindenburg friend cheated you with the stones; he has strong psychic powers as well. However, none of them are worthy, except you…' he pinned him to the wall and licked the side of DeBourgh's face. DeBourgh shivered in disgust and tried to break free but the clone only tightened his grip. Then kissed DeBourgh on the mouth and forced his tongue down his throat.
The being instantaneously changed into a dark liquid which poured down his throat, nose and every pore of his body. The being had disappeared inside him and DeBourgh was convulsing on the floor. Memories of his past flickered in his mind as his breathing was starting to desist. Then his heart ceased to beat and he closed his eyes.
He felt nothing. Yet he was still capable of thought. He opened his eyes to see if he was in the after life. But no, he was still on the morgue floor. The colours of the room around him were duller than before, everything save the bone thief. Suddenly his mind was filled with knowledge unbeknownst to him before. He understood what the being had told him and everything else as well for that matter.
He raised himself. But the man who rose was not the same as the one which had fallen. The two souls had merged together and this man had now taken on the power of Ulyoath into his very being. Ulyoath had him under his thrall, but he had one item of business which he had to undertake before he was to do its bidding – To gain vengeance on Von Hindenburg.