Chapter Five: Awakening
"Wise men have interpreted dreams, and the gods have laughed."
- H.P. Lovecraft
Light seeped into Konrad's eyes as he awoke. Massaging them slowly with his thumbs, he raised himself up slightly and looked around to gather his bearings. Finding himself alone and in his bed, his body covered in bandages, he settled back down as the door to his bedroom opened, revealing Jurgen as he came in with a plate on a breakfast tray covered by a steel cloche.
"Ah, Herr Baron!" The servant said cheerfully. "I'm glad to see that you're awake!"
Konrad massaged his eyes groggily, sitting himself up.
"How long was I out for?" he asked.
"Several hours," Jurgen answered he set down the tray in front of him. "You've lost a lot of blood, so you need to rest."
Konrad regarded the servant as he poured a hot cup of coffee. "What do you know of last night?"
"I know that you've had one hell of a shock yesterday evening."
Konrad scoffed as he lied there.
"Understatement of the year, Jurgen," he replied, then sat up with a start. "Oh mein Gott, Eagle! Where's Eagle?! Has he been taken to the hospital?"
The servant frowned. "He's being cared for in the guest room," Jurgen answered.
"Why was he brought here?!" Konrad demanded.
"We had to get you home, sir," Jurgen explained. "Gupte and the other doctors have treated him the best they could, but the injuries he's sustained have taken a toll on him. He's lost complete consciousness, and it's doubtful he'll ever recover."
"We need to get him to the hospital," Konrad said. "Call for an ambulance-"
"Herr Baron," the servant interrupted, "even if Eagle was brought to the hospital, there's nothing they could do. Our doctors have done everything that they themselves would have had done and then some. I'm sorry."
Konrad was quiet for a moment. Taking in a slow, deep breath through his nostrils, he slammed his fist down angrily on his breakfast tray, causing coffee to leap out from the cup.
"FUCK!" He shouted as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It's not your fault, Herr Baron!" Jurgen assured.
"Even so, Jurgen," Konrad said quietly, "I'm ruined!"
"Calm down, Herr Baron, you're overreacting."
"Overreacting?!" Konrad snarled as he glanced up at the servant. "Jurgen, because of that-that creature, I'm going to be facing the mother of all lawsuits! Eagle's family, Carnegie's family, the families of their managers...all those countless other families...they're all going to want retribution."
"What are you talking about?!" Jurgen said in confusion.
"You've seen the program, haven't you?!"
"The entire world has, Herr Baron," said the servant. "It's made the headlines in the Entertainment Section of newspapers and has been a subject of nonstop discussion on numerous news channels and on the Internet. The phone's been ringing nonstop for interviews."
Konrad looked at him fearfully. "By who?"
"Journalists, mainly."
"Were any from the police?"
"No, Herr Baron."
"Lawyers?"
"No, sir."
"Are you sure, Jurgen?" Konrad asked with uncertainty. "People died yesterday! Thousands!"
"I am afraid you are mistaken, Herr Baron," Jurgen replied.
"What?" Konrad said, puzzled. "I thought you said that everyone's seen what happened."
"We did."
"Then what about the seven thousand or so people that had disappeared?!"
"That never happened, Herr Baron."
"I know what I saw!" Konrad angrily roared. "I was there!"
"Herr Baron, people fled from the arena once that earthquake struck."
The Baron's ears twitched as he stared blankly in confusion.
"Earthquake?" Konrad repeated dumbly.
"Ja. Newscasters reported a pretty sizable one that levelled several buildings and properties. Apparently people were returning to their homes in a state of shock."
Konrad stared at him, taken aback. "What?"
"Ja. It was a miracle that you, Dieter and the others were able to get out of there before the arena itself collapsed."
"It collapsed?!" He repeated incredulously.
"Ja. Dieter and the others reported that the building shook at one point, that it caused equipment to go haywire."
The aristocrat shook his head. "It wasn't any earthquake, Jurgen."
"So you had been saying. Dieter told me that you were rambling about a giant creature while you were unconscious."
Konrad stared ahead in silence.
"What did you see?" Jurgen asked quietly.
He sat still on his bed, debating internally as to whether he should voice the hellish vision that he saw...or thought he saw. Relenting, the aristocrat sighed.
"I was on the floor bleeding," he began. "I was feeling lightheaded and helpless while Spinal - that's the skeleton, what the chants called it - hacked away at that boy."
"I saw that," Jurgen nodded.
"Did you see what happened after the creature's shield started to glow?" Konrad pressed.
The servant shook his head. "The cameras had abruptly shut down after that."
"I bet they did," Konrad said grimly as he laid his head back against the headboard.
Konrad glanced around as the mists formed a thick dense wall around him, watching as Spinal's shield ominously shined through the haze-filled darkness.
The ground shook violently as spider cracks started to form in front of him.
After a few painfully long minutes, if not seconds, Konrad saw something emerge.
Debris was tossed aside as a huge watermark stained the mist in front of him, causing the aristocrat to crane his neck further and further up, staring open-mouthed in terror until the thing's head nearly scraped the ceiling.
From what he saw through the mist, a gigantic humanoid torso marked with glowing runes or glyphs protruded out from the ground, the top of its head reminding Konrad of crowns worn by pharaohs in Lower Egypt in ancient times.
Its face consisted of a single long white door, and as it glanced around, breathed and groaned an odorous vapor that reeked of decay and dirt, the door split into four worm-like mandibles with panels at each end.
Konrad knew that what he saw wasn't any hallucination or spirit - it was a real living creature, for every time it moved he heard, felt and saw the air being displaced, causing some of the mist to swirl in its wake.
Even more, it had a distinctive malodorous scent that polluted the air, reminding Konrad of beef that had been left out for weeks unrefrigerated during a hot summer.
Every time it breathed, Konrad felt the hairs on his body being blown back or pulled forward in conjunction with every inhalation or exhalation of hot air.
Lowering itself down so that its massive head was flat to the floor, its arms bent in support of its massive body, Konrad watched as it opened its mouth and as the dead security guards led their struggling captives to their doom.
Once the security guards entered the creature's gullet, other indescribable creatures appeared and started dragging away the audiences, forcing Konrad to crawl up into a fetal position, covering his eyes and ears, trying to block out the awful screams.
Jurgen listened in silence, his expression stony.
"I swear, Jurgen," Konrad said as he shook his head from side to side, "I've never felt so frightened in my entire life!"
"I can imagine!" The servant replied. "It explains why you had urinated yourself."
The aristocrat looked at him curiously. "Urinated myself?" he repeated.
"Ja," Jurgen said. "We had to clean you and get those pants off because of the smell."
Konrad looked down in shame and embarrassment, his face sagging, the corners of his mouth and eyes drooping.
"Herr Baron," Jurgen said as he placed a comforting on his shoulder. "Please don't feel bad."
"I bet Dieter and the others had a right laugh at my expense," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I assure you, Herr Baron, no one was laughing at you."
"Then they're having one right now."
"They're not," Jurgen assured. "But Herr Baron, there's something about your account that I don't understand."
The aristocrat brushed his hand against his nose. "And what's that?"
"If what you say is true, why didn't the creature take you and Eagle?"
Konrad was silent for a moment, deep in thought. After a few minutes, he shrugged.
"I don't know," he answered.
"In all likelihood, Herr Baron, what you saw was probably a hallucination or a dream."
He glared at the servant.
"It wasn't a dream and it definitely wasn't a damn hallucination!" He snapped.
"Herr Baron," Jurgen said sternly, "when Dieter picked you up, the arena was intact. Outside of the few holes caused by that skeleton and it being filthy, it remained largely intact. If what you said was true, then there should have been much more destruction and suggestions of its presence! There is no way a creature of the scale that you're describing would just enter and slip away without leaving something behind!"
Konrad growled. "Let's suppose for a moment that that was a dream," he said slowly, "people all saw Spinal, didn't they?"
"They had."
"Then it still doesn't change the fact that people had died on live television!"
Jurgen shifted uncomfortably. "Actually..."
"What?" Konrad demanded. "Do NOT tell me that that was a dream or hallucination! Dieter and I SAW those people die!"
"No, I believe you, Herr Baron, but..." the servant faltered before continuing, "those people that had been killed turned up alive elsewhere."
Konrad furrowed his brows. "What do you mean "alive"?" he asked suspiciously.
The servant adjusted his collar and cleared his throat. "Several of them actually called in, including the film crew and the security guards. I had gotten off the phone with Mister Carnegie's manager not too long ago," Jurgen said slowly. "He sounded...distant. He said that he and Carnegie really enjoyed performing for the program and that they would like to do it again some time."
A chill ran through Konrad's spine, causing him to shiver.
"Where's Dieter?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"He's tending to your guests," Jurgen answered.
"Guests?" Konrad said in confusion. "What guests?"
"The skeleton, Spinal, along with its shield."
Konrad gave a look of surprise. "They brought them here?!"
"They had," the servant answered. "Apparently they thought they would be of great interest to you. They're currently up in the attic tying the damn things down on some tables."
Konrad straightened himself up, putting the tray onto the bed beside him.
"I want to see them," he said as he struggled out from the covers.
"Herr Baron!" Jurgen scolded. "You can't go in your condition! For god's sake you're still recovering from your injuries! You haven't even touched your breakfast!"
"I'll manage," Konrad said, wincing. "Can you at least get me some pants?"
The skeleton roared angrily.
"TIE THIS BASTARD DOWN!" Dieter yelled.
Konrad crept up the ladder, listening to the angry shouting and grunts of exertion before entering through the opening. The attic was a dimly lit white area with a single light bulb hanging overhead and brown wooden footboards. Ten feet high and forty feet wide, the room was filled with old trunks, toys, picture frames, tables, chairs and other furniture that were all covered with canvases. At the far end of the attic, Dieter and the others were struggling with their task, tying down the two anomalies tightly on the tables.
"Scheibe, this thing is strong!" Lawrence said through gritted teeth, straining as he tried wrenching the cutlass from Spinal's bony hand. "It's no good, Dieter! I can't get him to let go of the sword!"
"Forget about that, just make sure he doesn't get out!"
The skeleton rocked angrily on the table, causing it to shake, crying out in frustration as it shook its head from side to side, trying to wrench itself free.
Once Konrad finished climbing up, he took a step toward the skeleton, his footsteps creaking, drawing the attention of his bodyguards.
"Baron!" Dieter said in surprise. "What are you doing up here?! It's not safe, sir!"
"I wanted to see it," Konrad replied.
"I don't think it's a good idea," Dieter said. "You should be in bed recovering. For god's sake, man, you're not even wearing your cloak!"
"Yes, thank you, Dieter," Konrad said irritably, "your commentary on my fashion aside, I came here to see if I can speak to it."
Dieter hesitated. "Speak to it?" he repeated. "Baron-"
"Just indulge me, Dieter," Konrad said tiredly.
The bodyguard scowled. "Alright," he replied. "Just wait until the boys and I finish up here before you start questioning it."
Turning his attention back to the ropes, Dieter and the others grunted as they strained the ropes, then tied them securely.
"Okay, you can go ahead."
"Are you sure he's tied down?" Konrad asked hesitantly.
"We're pretty sure he won't be able to get out of this."
Konrad sighed. "Okay."
"Herr Baron, are you sure about this?" Michael asked with uncertainty. "We've all seen what happened the last time people tried communicating with it."
"The last time people spoke to it was in English and German," Konrad replied. "I'll try communicating with it in Latin."
"Latin?" Dieter said with confusion. "The fuck for?"
"Don't you know your ghost stories, Dieter? Have you not ever read "Hamlet"?"
"I flunked that course in high school," the bodyguard admitted.
Konrad shook his head. "Latin is supposedly the language of the dead," he explained. "So, it stands to reason that our Ghost Skeleton here will be able to better understand me."
Looking to Spinal, he took two slow steps toward it. The skeleton slowed its movements, watching him. Grabbing a chair for himself, Konrad sat by the foot of the table.
"Potestis intelligere me?" he asked.
"Quod sic," it answered, its voice a strained and shrill yet guttural-sounding croak.
Konrad nodded his head. "He understands!" He said excitedly before turning back to the creature. "Quid tu hic?"
"Quod sic," it answered.
Blinking several times in puzzlement, Konrad's brows furrowed.
"Quid tu hic?" he repeated.
"Quod sic."
"What is it saying?" Lawrence asked.
"I asked him why he's here, but all he is saying is "yes"," Konrad said in irritation. "Posse dicitis ad me quid tu quaeris?"
"Quod sic."
"Unde venis et quo vadis?"
"Quod sic."
"Cur tu venisti?"
"Quod sic."
"Tu es vultus pro aliquis?"
"Quod sic."
"Quis tu quaeris?"
"Quod sic."
The aristocrat stared long and hard at the creature before continuing.
"Stultus es?"
"Quod sic."
Konrad angrily stood up from his chair.
"Bloody idiot," he fumed.
"What have you been saying?" Michael asked.
"I asked where he came from, why he's here, who was he looking for, who does he want, what does he want, but all he keeps saying is yes!" Konrad ranted angrily. "I even asked him if he was stupid and he gleefully said "yes!". Stupid bastard."
"Let's get out of here, Baron," Dieter said. "I don't want to spend a minute longer with these fucking things. We can talk about it downstairs."
The men turned around and headed back down the ladder. As Konrad glanced back to Spinal, he watched as the skeleton resumed its futile efforts.
Konrad was back in the bedroom, eating his breakfast and checking his cellphone.
"The first thing we need to do is to figure out where this thing came from," he said.
"And how do we do that exactly?" Dieter asked.
"By checking the news for anything that indicates a trail. Chances are, people might have seen something, if not had an encounter with it."
"Sir," Michael said as he looked up from his cellphone, "Google News reports a series of animal decapitations along the North Sea. It also mentions a few human casualties."
Konrad paused.
"...How many?" he asked nervously, worried about the amount of damage.
"Five or six people were killed when their boat exploded. Authorities say it's an accident."
Konrad frowned. Damn.
"See if there's a video on YouTube with good audio quality," he said between mouthfuls before downing a cup of coffee. "I want to know what language those chants are in and I want them translated by an expert."
"Sir," Lawrence said fearfully, "is it really a good idea to read the chants? Who knows what we might summon up next!"
"Lawrence," Konrad said patiently, "millions of people are playing videos of it across the globe, and from what I'm seeing on the news there's no suggestion of anything else being summoned, so chances are good that nothing else is going to pop up."
"Ja, but we're the ones in close proximity to the damn things!"
Konrad frowned. He had a point.
"Just bear with me for a moment before you lose your nerve, man," the aristocrat said wearily.
"I got something!" Dieter said.
"Oh good! Play it."
"No, don't!" Lawrence said with alarm.
"There's no need to, sir. Someone's posted the lyrics up. Apparently it's Swedish," Dieter replied.
Konrad tilted his head. Swedish?
"Is there an English translation?"
"Yeah," Dieter said, "it's right here:
"'King and regent,
Warrior,
Emperor,
Conqueror.
Body of bones,
No heart,
Baptized in blood,
Soulless, lifeless.'"
"Jesus," Lawrence muttered.
Dieter continued, "'Evil Demon,
Hero of the People-'"
"Oh! So we have a Marxist!" Konrad said sarcastically.
"Baron!" Dieter snapped before continuing again, "'Lifeless God,
Rests here.
Flay! Flay! Flay!
The forest speaks, cattle are on the run,
The enemy is burning our fields,
Rustles with swords and striking shields,
Ready to slay us now.
We beg to you Spinal, leave your body,
Become our chieftain, take up arms,
Gift us your strength in this battle,
Awaken, awaken! Mighty God.
The darkness falls over our land,
The wind sings, the earth trembles,
The enemy is at our gates,
Ready to subjugate us now.
Warriors gather at the holy grave,
Calling for Spinal, the Warrior God,
Give us the help we need in this battle,
Save us, save us! Mighty God.
"'The kingdom cries for our help,
Spinal awakes, leaves his grave,
With a rallying cry he gathers his troops,
Ready to fight for us now.
We eat mushrooms for power and intoxication,
Pull out axes, mails, helmets,
With the power and courage from Spinal, the God
Victory, victory, victory is ours.'"
The group waited and glanced around, listening. After a few minutes, Dieter playfully punched Lawrence's shoulder.
"See? And you've gotten all worked up over nothing!" he said.
Konrad frowned. "Are you sure that's what it says?" he asked.
"It's been corroborated by several people, so I'll assume that this is the correct translation," Dieter replied.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Dieter," Konrad said, "but I'm pretty sure that "Spinal" has never been the name of any god within Norse mythology."
Michael typed away on his cellphone. "I got one million and sixty thousand hits for "Spinal Norse Mythology". One hit is in relation to Thor."
Konrad blinked. "Really?" he said in surprise.
"Don't get too excited, Herr Baron," Michael said. "Outside of a scientist naming a shrew's spine and saying that it has "godly strength", I can't see anything so far. I'll keep looking."
The aristocrat frowned, then typed on his cellphone.
"I typed in "animated skeletons in mythology", and have gotten eight million, two hundred and sixty thousand hits," he said while checking the screen. "Let's see...There's the "bake-kujira", but that's a whale...Ah! There's something called a "gashadokuro". From what it says here, it's a creature fifteen times taller than a man and is said to be created from the amassed bones of people that had either died of starvation or in battle without being buried."
"That sounds like our friend upstairs," Roger said.
"Oh yes, he's a hungry and vicious little bastard, for sure," Konrad said, "but one problem; a gashadokuro is Japanese. Our skeleton is Swedish and isn't part of a conglomerate, plus he is much too small."
"To be fair, sir," Roger replied, "it would explain those giant arms at the tournament. Plus, we haven't questioned him in either language. At least, not yet."
The Baron grunted. "Fair enough," he said before looking to the screen. "According to Wikipedia, animated skeletons were depicted as personifications of death in the Middle Ages in Western culture. Their appearance was in conjunction with the Black Death. Nothing else in terms of mythology."
"I think I found something!" Michael said. "Apparently the Hopi people of Arizona have something known as the "Skeleton Man"."
"That sounds promising!" Konrad said as he typed the word in and pressed the search tab.
"'Masauwu'," he read. His lips tightened into a grim line. "I don't think so. It describes him as being benign and a humorous figure."
"It says that there's two versions of this figure," Michael pointed out.
"True, but the one we have is anything but benign," Konrad countered.
"I typed in "skeleton god mythology" into Google, " Dieter said. "Six million, seven hundred and ten thousand hits. I found a couple relating to Aztec mythology, one called "Mic.."
He squinted, trying to pronounce the name.
"Mictlan..," he read slowly, then shook his head. "I have no idea how the fuck to pronounce that."
Konrad typed into his cellphone Dieter's search.
"'Mictantecutli,'" he read aloud.
"That's it!"
"'Aztec god of the dead,'" Konrad continued, "'King of Mictlan, the lowest and northernmost section of the underworld. Worship sometimes involved ritual cannibalism. Depicted as a blood-spattered skeleton or a person wearing a toothy skull. Although head is typically a skull, his eye sockets didn't have eyeballs. Wears a headdress decorated with owl feathers and paper banners as well as wore a necklace of eyeballs and earspools made from human bones.'"
Lawrence shook his head in disgust.
"I think that could be our boy," Dieter said with a nod.
Konrad shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't count on it, Dieter," he replied. "For one, it says here that several Aztec gods had skulls for heads, including the skeletal warrior goddess Itzapalotl."
"Wait, wait, wait, what?!" Dieter interrupted. "There's a female skeleton goddess?!"
"It's right here in the search listing, Dieter," Konrad pointed.
The bodyguard glanced at his cellphone. "Huh."
"Going back to what I was saying, our skeleton doesn't possess any Aztec features or clothing."
He returned back to the search.
"Baron Samedi is out. The Celtic Ankou is definitely a possibility, but our skeleton didn't have a cart drawn by skeletal horses..."
Dieter sighed. "Looks like it's going to be a long search."
Stories of the undead have existed for centuries and are extensive across a multitude of cultures.
The earliest records alone date all the way back to ancient Egypt in its depictions of an afterlife, although archaeological evidence suggested that such phenomena could have started as far back as the Neolithic era due to the discovery of funerary items at burial sites such as stone tools, animal offerings and pottery.
In ancient Babylon, references were made of the ghoul, the shape-shifting demons of the desert that often appeared as deceased loved ones and ate human flesh.
In Romania, stories were told of the moroi and the strigoi, the latter being the textbook definition of vampirism.
In China, there were the Jiangshi, the hopping vampire said to feed on people's life force.
In Tibet and Thailand, there's the preta, the hungry spirit that had a pinhole for a mouth who's punished for his or her crimes in thievery in the afterlife.
In Canada and parts of America, certain Aboriginal tribes talked of the Wendigo, the dead things that haunted the North and turned men into cannibals in the winter when food was scarce.
Other means of transformation occurred when said-men were too full of pride, rage or greed, growing in size with each consumed meal and associated with insanity.
The Ojibwe Nation made references to a similar creature known as the Baykok, a skeleton-like figure with translucent skin and red points for eyes.
Greek mythology was full of references to the undead. Some of the most notable included Charon, the ferryman of the underworld, King Minos, who served as one of its judges, Sisyphus, who tricked the god Thanatos into achieving immortality before being punished by Ares and the rest of the pantheon, Glaucus, the son of Minos who resurrected back to life. The story of Heracles and his ascension into godhood along with the tragic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice were also well known, while Christianity makes reference to Christ and Lazarus rising up from the grave.
The Bible also makes reference to the phenomenon in Ezekiel Chapter 37, Verse 7;
"...there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them."
While all were fascinating, none really provided the answers Konrad was looking for.
That was, until he delved deeper into Norse mythology, where he found references to the lich, powerful magicians that used necromancy in order to sustain themselves, thereby attaining a form of immortality, and the draugr, undead creatures who in life were marginal or evil people that often guarded treasure in their burial mounds.
"That could be what we've got here, Baron," Dieter said.
"It sounds like it," Konrad admitted, "but what the hell is a draugr doing all the way over here in Germany?"
"You seem to forget, Baron, that there was a time when Germany had worshipped the Norse gods," said Dieter.
"True, but it doesn't explain the chants. It seems odd that a mere draugr would be worshipped as a god."
"Simpler times, Baron, with simpler people back then."
Konrad frowned. "Even so, I doubt that "Spinal" is a Norse word."
Michael typed into his cellphone.
"He's right, Dieter," he said. "It's Latin in origin. Derived from the word "spinalis", late 16th Century."
"Maybe it was referred to by other names in other religions," Roger reasoned. "We know that it can shape-shift as evidenced by its performance as Max Carnage."
He tilted his head in thought.
"What are you thinking, Roger?" Konrad asked curiously.
"Do you think it could be Loki?" the bodyguard wondered.
"Then why didn't the chants call it by that name? Why "Spinal"?"
"It says that draugr guard treasure..." Michael said thoughtfully.
"So?"
"Do you think there is treasure to be found somewhere?"
"If there is, we're hardly ever going to find it, nor would we really have an opportunity," Konrad replied.
Dieter's eyes flashed. "I just had a thought!" He said. "What if the treasure is what our skeleton is looking for?"
"But why would it come to my arena?"
"Because you have it."
Konrad wrinkled his brows in confusion. "...I'm afraid I don't follow."
"Baron," Dieter said in a slow and meaningful manner, "the skeleton came the same day when you received those artifacts."
"Oh for God's sakes, Dieter," Konrad muttered. "Don't be stupid! None of the items are Norse in origin!"
"Still, you can't deny it's possible. It's too coincidental."
"Ja, because everyone knows that "Spinal" is a common name and word used in Mesopotamia and Tibet and that they've both had extensive connections and encounters with Vikings!" Konrad said sarcastically.
"I think I got something, Herr Baron," Lawrence said as he raised his cellphone. "I found a YouTube video about our skeleton."
Konrad and the others eagerly gathered around as he clicked on the link.
A fifteen-minute video that had been streamed live, the speaker was an unshaven and crazed-looking man with wild gray hair, misshapen glasses and filthy clothes by the name of Harrison Coswell. A former professor of History and Occultism from Arkham University, he claimed to have been sacked by the higher ups of the institution due to their wanting to cover up the truth of his findings.
A quick search on Google found that Coswell had to be let go due to his highly erratic behavior, along with suggestions of there being mental instability and him having suffered a nervous breakdown due to the death of his family.
Unimpressed by this, Konrad initially wanted to turn it off, but at Lawrence's insistence continued to watch.
According to Coswell, he had been doing some research on a particular figure, a mad Swedish mystic from 1883 that had gone by the name of William Accola.
A mediocre naturalist from a relatively successful family, Accola had turned to mysticism and the occult following his encounter, or so he had claimed in his journal, with a "living skeleton" on an unnamed island.
In his examinations of certain dark texts - the dreaded Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, the Book of Eibon, Comte d'Erlotte's Cultes des Goules, von Juntz's Unassprechenlichen Kulten and the reviled Necronomicon by Abdul Alhazared, all of which were currently kept under heavy lock and key at Arkham University's forbidden archive section - Accola had uncovered references to what he dubbed as "Spina de Diaboli", or "Devil's spine", an immortal creature that had walked the earth since its inception.
The exact nature of the creature was a subject of much hypothesis by Coswell's online associates.
Some suggested that it was a former bandit punished for treachery in ancient times.
One proposed it to be part of a long line of skeletal warriors throughout the ages.
Another had suggested that it was in fact the physical expression, if not manifestation of Creation itself, a violent, tumultuous and terrible force that was neither good nor ill but just was, integral to the development of life.
Accola, however, had very different opinions about the creature; he believed that the skeleton was a conduit of power tethering worlds from beyond to this realm, and Accola was trying to find the mechanism by which "Spinal", as he had dubbed the creature at the time, was activated or allowed to exist.
Unfortunately, the Swedish naturalist's notes had largely been destroyed.
The few that remained were practically unintelligible and suggested that Accola himself was becoming increasingly unstable.
According to Coswell, there were suggestions of the former naturalist having been involved with various occult groups later in life, including the notorious Cthulhu cult, even going so far as to recruit some of them to create his own sub-group called "the Children of Spinal".
Further details regarding Accola were practically nonexistent, the man disappearing altogether in 1922.
"To understand Accola, I made it an effort to understand his subject, and thus made Spinal part of my research," Coswell said in the video.
He stopped to take a sip from a cup, then looked back to the camera.
"I had the opportunity to visit the forbidden archives at the university and was thus able to review the materials that he had studied, and after thorough and careful examination, I believe that Accola may have been right on the money. Even more, with his suggested connection to the Cthulhu cult, it is my belief that Spinal is not only a tether, but also a chosen harbinger for Cthulhu himself, if not his avatar, as proven by the fact that he carries a shield baring his visage in that video."
He was quiet for a moment, apparently reading something someone sent during his livestream.
"'How is Spinal activated?'" He read aloud, then shook his head. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself. For all I know it could be an incantation, or maybe exposure to some unknown element. Maybe a host is sought out and marked. Maybe it's a question of planetary or lunar alignment and gravitational forces. Maybe it's something seasonal. Maybe it's a certain time of month. Then again, perhaps Spinal doesn't even need to be activated, that he just is, a phenomenon that is naturally occurring like the weather. I don't know. What I do know, however, is that Spinal's presence at Ultratech is troubling, and it only affirms my suspicions that mega-corporations are evil."
Konrad scowled.
"Turn that shit off," he said as the man went on into an anti-corporate rant. "Well thank you, Lawrence, for wasting fifteen minutes of everyone's time!"
Lawrence shook his head. "I don't believe it was."
"And you believe that quack?"
"Herr Baron, we have a skeleton upstairs that's moving on its own!" The bodyguard said pointedly. "Maybe not everything Coswell said is to be taken seriously, but obviously something is causing that thing to move when it shouldn't!"
"I still think it's one of those relics," Dieter said.
"Alright, fine! We'll test your theory," Konrad said.
Konrad muttered to himself as he pulled himself up to the attic.
Grabbing the Baron's hand, Dieter pulled him to his feet, the other bodyguards waiting nervously, glancing to the skeleton as it twisted and arced itself on the table, roaring in frustration.
"You have the artifacts?" Dieter asked.
Konrad nodded. "Okay."
The aristocrat stepped toward the writhing skeleton. Reaching into the pocket of his cloak, he pulled out the Tiger statue. Nothing. The skeleton continued ignoring him as it struggled.
He frowned. "It's not working."
"Try holding it out in front of you and concentrate," Dieter said as he reached for his side arm.
"Concentrate?!" Konrad exclaimed. "What do you think I am, a Jedi?"
"Just try. If it reacts, we'll know there's a connection."
"How do you know?!" He demanded
Dieter opened his mouth, paused, then shrugged. "Honestly, I'm just making things up as we go along."
Konrad glared at the bodyguard.
Doing as instructed, he held the tiger bust up and concentrated. After staring at the skeleton for several minutes, he shook his head.
"Nothing."
Putting the statue into his pocket, he then pulled out the scroll and held it high.
A few seconds later, he gave an annoyed growl and turned around to face Dieter. "This is ridiculous!"
"Come on, Baron," the bodyguard urged.
Giving an exasperated sigh, Konrad looked back to the skeleton and repeated the process. The skeleton continued ignoring him and struggled in its bindings.
"Nothing again, Dieter," he said, looking over his shoulder at the bodyguard as he pocketed the scroll and pulled out the mask. "I told you-"
The skeleton came to a sudden abrupt stop, drawing everyone's attention. To Konrad's surprise, it stared at the mask in his hand.
"I'll be damned," Michael breathed.
"I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Dieter exclaimed. "I told you!"
Ignoring him, Konrad then focused his will into the object and watched as the bony fingers holding the sword unfurled, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter.
Looking to the mask in his hand, Konrad studied it for a moment, then hastily placed it away into his pocket. Shakily pulling off his cloak, he passed it to Roger as the skeleton started to laugh, its insane voice raising every hair on his body stiff and on end as he hurriedly crawled down the ladder, eager to get away as quickly as possible.
Once he finished calming down, he got up from the tub, shook his whole body, wiped himself clean then put on his pants along with a housecoat that hung on a nearby hook. Opening the door, Konrad stepped out to see Jurgen seated in a chair. None of the bodyguards were in the room.
"Are you alright, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked.
"What do you want, Jurgen?" he grumbled.
The servant gave a short laugh.
"Boy you are sure in a mood," the butler said.
Konrad didn't say anything as he sat despondently down into a chair.
"What's wrong?"
The aristocrat was quiet for a moment, then spoke up in a quiet voice, "...Do you remember our arguments about the artifacts that I buy, about magic?"
Jurgen looked at him with a start. "Don't tell me that-"
"Ja," Konrad said grimly.
"This isn't some sort of a joke?" Jurgen asked.
"Do I look like I got a silly grin on my face?!" Konrad spat as he rested one arm on the armrest while he massaged his temples. "Apparently one of the items I purchased had summoned that thing here, and it's because of me that that boy is in critical condition."
The servant quietly took in his words, his features unreadable. Raising his eyes over to his master, Jurgen regarded him with worry. "Why were you in the bath for so long?"
Konrad was quiet for a moment, then gave a snort.
"I was scared," he said simply, then chuckled. "Ironic, isn't it? Me! A four-hundred-pound werewolf, scared of the idea that the supernatural exists!"
He tossed his head back into a harsh barking laugh.
Jurgen's features were frozen into stone, causing him to stop. A few minutes of silence passed, followed by a deep heavy sigh.
"I never really had believed in it, Jurgen," he said. "Oh sure, some small part of me had hoped that it was real, but I had hoped that it would come in the form of a miraculous recovery from my condition, not like this. To know that you stood in the presence of actual evil...that you had it in your hands without even realizing and that your hands were now stained with blood, your whole being tainted...it made me noxious. Like I needed to wash myself. I still have that feeling."
He shuddered. "You'd think that with this discovery I'd be thrilled, right? That I would- should have expected something like this, but you'd be wrong to assume that."
Konrad then looked up fearfully at the servant. "Am I evil? Is that why this is happening?"
"Don't talk like that, Herr Baron!" Jurgen said.
"I can't help it, Jurgen," Konrad replied. "I'm afraid!"
The servant blinked, taken aback.
"Ja, that's right! You heard me, Jurgen!" Konrad said as his whole body started to quiver. "I'm afraid! I can't help feeling as if there are invisible things all around me and that I'm being drawn into something I don't understand and don't even want to understand! I feel like I'm being led down a path, and I don't like it! I feel absolutely powerless! I'm afraid that by the time I catch a glimpse of whatever's at the end of that tunnel that it'll be too late!"
"Herr Baron, calm yourself!"
Sabrewulf shook as he hyperventilated. "I-I-I tried being a good person, haven't I?! I donated vast amounts of money to charities around the globe! I tried aiding those that needed help! I tried to be a good person!"
"Stop it, stop it!" Jurgen said as he went over to the Baron's position, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Herr Baron! Get a hold of yourself, man! Breathe!"
The Baron obeyed, taking in slow, deep breaths. Once he had control of himself, Jurgen spoke.
"Look at me."
Konrad looked up and saw the servant giving him a patient, almost paternal, look of concern.
"You are NOT evil," he said in a soft voice, "just scared. Last night was an awful experience that no one could have anticipated. It had put tremendous strain on you, on all of us."
Konrad glanced down. "I...I don't know what to do," he admitted quietly.
"The choices are simple, Herr Baron," Jurgen replied. "A - we give the skeleton what it wants and just let it leave."
The aristocrat shook his head. "Nein," he said. "That would be an awful idea. I was at the arena, Jurgen - it enjoys killing. Revels in it. If we give it the relic, then its bloodshed will go unabated, and it will be made even more dangerous by the fact that it couldn't be controlled."
"Okay," Jurgen said, "then we go with option B - we get rid of the relic and hope that it follows."
"I can't do that, either. Otherwise, someone else will be stuck with it and more people will die. As a human being, I can't allow that to happen."
Jurgen smiled. "This is not the talk of an evil person," he said as he gave Konrad a reassuring shake. "Option C - we destroy the relic."
Konrad glanced up in surprise. "Destroy it? But-"
"If we let it continue to exist, Herr Baron," the servant warned in a stern voice, "people will continue to get hurt and will die. Unless you want to be beholden to the creature or whatever forces that control it and lose your soul in the process, then please, for your sake, listen to me. For the sake of your humanity and for all that is good, you will see to it that that thing is sent back to hell where it belongs."
The aristocrat was still for a moment as the words sunk in, deep in thought. Lifting his head up, he gave a nod. Jurgen gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling away.
"Dieter!" Konrad called.
The door opened as the bodyguards entered the room. Roger held his cloak.
"May I have my cloak, please?"
Roger stepped toward him, holding it out with both hands. Taking it from him, Konrad searched the pockets, then pulled out the troublesome mask. Staring at it, he ran a clawed finger over its features.
"Eight thousand euros for this ugly piece of shit," he muttered. "What a waste."
Lifting it high into the air, he slammed the relic to the floor with all his might, the impact creating a loud bang as it hit the ground.
To everyone's amazement and horror, the mask remained intact.
"Wha?"
Pressing his foot down on it, Konrad tried crushing the artifact, but for whatever reason it wouldn't bend. Putting the other foot on it, he stood there on top of the mask, then started jumping onto it, but no matter how many times he tried, the mask proved to be of considerable durability.
"I don't understand," he said. "Why won't it break?"
"May I, Baron?" Dieter asked.
Konrad backed away as everyone took turns jumping and standing on the mask. Even when everyone stood on it at the same time, the relic still didn't give way beneath their combined weight.
Picking up the relic, Konrad checked it front and back for damage.
Nothing.
Dieter took out a lighter.
"Let me figure this out," he said.
Handing it to him, Konrad watched as the bodyguard lit the mask with his lighter. It wasn't even burning, let alone catching fire. Neither the front, nor the back.
Everyone stared at the thing in wonder.
"What is this thing?" Michael said aloud.
Putting away his lighter, Dieter strained himself as he tried to break it in his hands and with his arms.
"The fuck is this thing made of, diamond?!" He exclaimed.
Shaking his head, he handed it back to Konrad.
"It's no good. Sorry, Baron. I tried."
"We all did, Dieter," Konrad said he held the mask in his hands, examining it. "I think I know someone who might be able to help us understand this thing."
Jurgen stiffened. "You don't mean him, do you?"
"Unfortunately, Jurgen, I do," Konrad answered. "Kan-Ra might know what exactly we're dealing with here, along with a way of destroying this thing."
The servant frowned.
"I don't like this, Herr Baron," he said. "I'm entirely against him being involved."
"You and me both, mein freund," Konrad said, "but we don't have a choice. Roger, go to my office. In the left-hand drawer should be a list of directions on a yellow scrap of paper. Get it."
"Jawohl," the bodyguard replied.
"If we're going to see him, then we'll need to be conspicuous," Dieter said. "It'll be difficult with those journalists out front."
"We'll take your car," Konrad said. "I'll be in the backseat with a blanket draped over me. The excuse you can use at the security checkpoint is that it's your day off."
"No offense, Baron," Dieter said slowly, "but...you're kind of big. I don't know if you'd fit."
The aristocrat glared. "Just try," he said as he took out his cellphone to call the guards.