AN: Hello everybody good to be back. Before we begin the story two things, one special shoutout to UnbiasedGod. Thank you for reading this story. People like you keep this story going and I can't be any more grateful for you and everyone who reads this story. Thank you again and enjoy the chapter.
As for the second thing I will be hosting a poll to replace the current Cover Art. I'll discuss it in more detail down bellow but of the next set of story arcs will be up to vote where the cover art will replace the current cover art. I'll list them down bellow with a description of them. Now ONTO THE STORY!
I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu
Bonhams and Butterfield Auction House, China Town San Francisco California
August 12 1924 (12 days prior to Amidst The Ancient Tree's)
3rd POV
The scene opens in the historical Butterfield auction house. Inside multiple people were calling out their bids for a painting from the far east. The Crowd was rather rowdy, since the turn of the century Japanese artwork has become a spectacle for westerners. As the Bid continue the starting price of 400 turned to 1,000 in a matter of minutes. As the bid was counting down when at the last second a loud voice called out from the back. Pulling over, in the far back one could see Weiss. She bided another 1,000 for the artwork. Nobody motioned for the artwork and it was sold for 2,000. Pulling out a check Weiss handed it over and she was now the owner of a lovely piece.
"Niño del infierno, you spent two grand on a portrait?" Fausta asked unsure why someone would spend that much money on a painting of a naked lady.
"What? It reminds me of artwork back home, least from Mistral." Weiss remarks as she takes the ticket from the employee to collect her painting at the end. "Besides it's for charity, much better than the charity's runs that my father ran."
"Yeah… 60 percent to the house and 40 percent to the war orphans and widows. Really decent shake down." Fausta said as she rolled her eyes.
"Oh hush. 40% of 10,000 is still a lot in the name of charity." Weiss said as she turned her attention to the next auctioned item. "Besides Fort Worth Museum of arts are in dire need of new artwork. And it wouldn't hurt to get some tax write offs with it."
"Dinero, ain't everything kid. Never bought me a moment of happiness." Fausta said before her eyes go wide at the next item.
"Our next item. The genuine Stetson of famed gunslinger. Joseph "Boston" Bishop. Killed in New Mexico territory in 1876 by Ms. Aestas Blackwood in a Duel in the small town of Shade New Mexico. While the blood has been cleared the hole has yet to be fixed there was some decorative pieces still attached to it." The auctioneer announces as he points to an old white Stetson with a strange gold plating on the front, depicting strange aquatic display. "Due to the odd but beautiful design as well as its historical value we shall begin the bid at 3,000 American. Do I hear 3,000"
"3,000!" Fausta shouting out with her number held high, nearly staggering Weiss as she was caught off guard by Fausta's sudden change in tone. Another voice called out for 3,200, 3,500, 4,000 and so on. Weiss watches with an amuse look on her face as the bids get bigger and bigger that eventually Fausta had to drop out. The bid continues for twenty minutes with it now exceeding reasonable asking price. The room watches with shock as two men continue to bid. They look rather similar with bulging, unblinking, watery eyes, resonating, gurgling voices, and wide mouths with thick lips. However they seem to project some kind of hostile bitterness towards one another. As their bid get bigger and bigger, the Auctioneer spoke up.
"Gentlemen. I'd appreciate the offer but are either of your bids genuine?" The auditor asked.
"Kay will sir, I represent Mr. Lang Fu. He's currently visiting relatives in his home nation but entrust me to secure this hat as Mr. Fu has had several dealings with Boston and gifted him with that plaque." One of the ghastly men explains.
"That's a Droch lie! I represent the Marsh Family good sir, and Mr. Bishops family was supporters by my employer Mr. Barnabus Marsh. That plate was gifted to Mr. Bishop before he left the East to help treat his consumption!" The other snapped. Weiss took notice to that name, they had the same eyes as that Marsh girl back two years ago. She wondered what happened to her. However she put her thoughts aside as the two bickering began to turn violent.
"Tsk, damn lie! If he had consumption, he wouldn't be the gunslinger he was this day you Droch disgrace!" The first ugly man screamed.
"Who you calling a disgrace you traitor! Following the Chinaman like a guppie!" The second snapped to which set off the first one who punched him in the face. A brawl breaks out as the two violently thrash about on the floor. As they do Security was quickly brought in to pull the two apart. As they do, the Auctioneer quickly appears before the shocked audience.
"I'm sorry folks. This dispute will be quickly um delt with. In the meantime please head outside to the lounge. We here at the Butterfield auction house will like to compensate your time with complimentary refreshments. Thank you and again our apologies." The Auctioneer said as the security guards struggled to pull the two men apart behind him. The crowd watches the two fight for a few moments before they are carried away by security. They soon left the room, out into a lobby where they all begin to mingle with complimentary bottles of legal champain being served. As they mingled Weiss grabbed a shrimp from a nearby cocktail platter, walking over to Fausta who was trying to not stand out amongst the wealthy as she sipped the champain.
"So… who is this Boston Bishop Fellow?" Weiss asked Fausta.
"Hmm, oh a famous gunslinger." Fausta said with a shrug trying to hide her secret almost school girl like fascination with the legendary gunslinger. Course Weiss was unconvinced by this and was rather interested in learning more.
"Uh huh, and one that you seem to idolize?" Weiss remarks with a smirk as she leans back against the rail. "I saw how you were eager to get that dust old hat. Just wanted to know since likely it will be my money you use to get it."
Fausta gave Weiss a dirty look, however before she could say anything a voice from behind speaks up. "Probably because he was a legendary gunslinger, rumored to have beaten legends like Johnny Ringo in a duel out of Dodge City."
Turning around they see a young man reading from an unnamed book. Black hair with a tinted set of glasses. He spoke with a with a regional accent, something you'd hear in Vancouver or further east that isn't distinctly Quebec. Smartly dressed with a black suit he continue speaking, "Course that's merely rumors; truth be told he was a famous gunslinger who's skill earned him notoriety."
"Um, thanks for your impute Mr." Weiss said unsure on if it was rude of the man to overhear their conversation or polite for him to answer directly. He puts down his book and held out his hand to shake hers.
"Mr. Philips, Greyson Philips." He said holding out his left hand only to notice Weiss missing right. He quickly changes his outreached hand to be polite.
"Schnee, Weiss Schnee." Weiss remarks as she shakes Philips hand. "And my friend here is Fausta Bell."
"Hmm, White Snow, rather on the nose name for someone with such distinct hair." Mr. Philips remarks earning an eye raised from Weiss. "Forgive me, I am a writer on Anthropology and Folklorist. Suppose Occultist would be the proper term but with that word thrown around so liberally it's a bit difficult to be taken seriously. But I can't help but make comparisons of peoples names, especially being unaware of the mythological and folk lore behind something as meniscal as a name."
"Oh, well that's rather fine. Intriguing actually." Weiss responds rather interestedly. These last few years she rarely had the pleasure of meeting an intellectual. The few times she did meet one would result in long conversations about whatever nature their field of study be. "Most people I have met question if I am of German descent due to how my surname sound but I assure you I am not. But, getting back to the subject at hand is what he is saying true Senorita Bell?"
"Si, for the most part. Mother told me stories about him. Reckoned at the time he was her idol or something. Her anniversary is coming up and I wanted to leave something nice for her grave seeing we will be out in New Mexico anyways." Fausta remarks, leaving out the part that he was hers as well as she tipped her hat back. "But I got to ask, how you heard about Old Boston any ways? Most Yankees prefer them Dime novels or tall tales told by old Wyatt."
"I'm actually Canadian, but like I said I study folklore as well as myths. While I'm not one for this cowboy antiques I did heard some rather interesting rumors about the woman who shot him back in 76." Mr. Philips said as he pauses and reaches for a nearby satchel. Pulling out a leather bound book and flipping through the pages before stopping at a single page with a photo inside. "Ms. Aestas Blackwood, nobody is quite sure about her but rumor has it she is a native Mexican with American parent. She was brought north prior to the civil war Agent Bartholomew Hollow. She became a full fledge member after the civil war in 1869, and was transferred back to the Waco branch. But that's the history behind her. The Rumors and legends are something I could write a chapter on in my upcoming book on southwest myths and urban legends.
"Urban legends such as?" Weiss asked with some interest. Looking at the photo of the woman. It was a bit grainy but she seems to be dressed somewhat similar to Fausta with the cow girl esthetic… however there was something familiar about her face. But she couldn't place it where she saw it.
"Apparently she was a bruja. Able to use magic if you can believe the Local yokels who supposedly witnessed this. However one goes about it she was considered one of the best marksmen or markswomen of the era. Supposedly gave little Ms. Sure Shot some pointers." Mr. Philips comment with a chuckle at the thought.
"Tsk right. I've fought beside Ms. Oakley during the war. Never heard her mentioned any los pacos." Fausta said with a tone of skepticism.
"Like I said just rumors but it has sparked many dime novels. Some that had truths hidden within them that many spectators and armature historians would read into." Mr. Philips explains with a chuckle. "But I digress I'm not here for Wild West fantasia rather to get my hands on some rare books, maybe Aztec artwork to study for my book."
"Really? Any book in particular?" Weiss asked gaining some interest from the conversation.
"Um, the 1520 Vacío supremo. I doubt it's here but it was written by a Spanish Monk who interviewed multiple Aztec's priest's on their rituals and religious customs. Only known copy was last reported in France during a raid on an Austrian born Count a week prior to the fall of the Bastille. Was soon taken away by the courts physician who later died at the end of the Reign of terror from a bombing at one of the Executions" Mr. Philips said with a sigh. He then quickly followed up by asking. "And you two? What do you hope to gain from the auction?"
"Just some art to donate to the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. Maybe one or two pieces to spruce up my associates ranch house." Weiss explains simply.
"Associates? Y pensé que era tu chófer involuntario... princesa." (And I thought I was your involuntary chauffeur... princess.) Fausta said with some sass in her tone
"Nos llama amigos, pero nuestra relación ha sido más transaccional en todo caso... más amigable que eso en realidad, pero la semántica es la misma... ancianas." (I'd call us friends but our relationship has been more transactional if anything... friendlier than that actually but semantics all the same... old women.) Weiss remarks with some sass.
The two give a tense stare at each other. As they do, Mr. Philips felt a bit uncomfortable being in the middle of these two. Unsure if they were only being friendly or has their relationship been strained by an unseen event. Just then he noticed the auction room has opened and people were being allowed back in.
"I think our time is up Ms.'s I wish you both good fortune in the foreseeable Auction." Mr. Philips said as he puts his things back into his satchel before sliding between the two awkwardly.
Weiss and Fausta gave a strange look as he made his awkward pass of them but shrugged it off before entering back into the room. Finding their old seats Weiss looked around the room before spotting Mr. Philips off to the side. She turned her attention back to the auction stage as the Auctioneer appeared before the crowd.
"We here at the Bonhams and Butterfield Auction house like to apologize for the aggressive display of the two bidders. After some deliberation between the two we have decided to sell Boston Bishops hat back to his family for the tidy sums of 10,000. We shall move onto the next item." The Auctioneer explains, earning a few disgruntled sighs and groans from the audience including Faust's who silently cursed her luck, her mother would have loved that hat. That all changed when the next item is brought onto the stage. Upon being unveiled the whole audience goes quiet as their eyes fixated on it. There was along with the full attention of the audience an unnatural draft of cold air almost emulating from the object. After a few moments of allowing everyone to look upon the object the Auctioneer begin to detail it.
"Our next item is this Aztec dagger. From multiple independent Anthropologist, historians, and academics this dagger is said to be dedicated to the god Itztlacoliuhqui. Which translates to 'curved obsidian blade' fitting for the artifact in hand, he was the god of cold who blessed his followers with trinkets in his name." The Auctioneer described as he present the obsidian dagger. It was covered in multiple symbols embedded into the blade in gold, forming strange yet foreboding hieroglyphics depicting a strange entity. The Audience couldn't help but feel a cold chill just by staring at it. After looking on at the artifact, the Auctioneer continued diving into the backstory on the object. "The first mention of this artifact was recorded by John Stark, a pioneer from the early days of manifest destiny who selfishly rescued the survivors of the Donner party in 1847. As to why the party was carrying such an artifact is still in debate but it clearly seemed to have failed in protecting the party."
A few people chuckled from the remarks but quickly compose themselves. As the Auctioneer readies his gavel he asked the audience, "The starting bid is 8,000 dollars do we hear 8,000?"
No one responds at first till a man raises his bid Paddle calling "8,000" the Auctioneer speaks quickly to which Weiss decided why not. She raised her paddle and called out "8,100". The bid was set and people begin placing their bid 100 dollars at a time. 8,500 became 10,000, 10,000 became 20,000, 20,000 became 40,000 and as it nears the bid of 50,000 with most of the bidders dropping out, Weiss decided to end this by holding up her paddle and calling out "100,000" the crowd gasp in shock for such a bid. The gold on the dagger was not worth that much. After a few moments of murmuring the Auctioneer calls out, "Do we have a bid for One Hundred thousand? No… going once… going twice, and sol-."
Before he could finish the doors slam open causing the whole room to go quiet. A few men armed with Remington Model 8's. Leading the four armed men was a women, late 30's Auburn hair in a semi neat traditional finger waves style hair, and seems to be carrying over her Sholder a Winchester repeating rifle. The five were dress civilized despite their weapons but the one thing they all had in common was a badge on their jacket's. Weiss didn't get a good look at the badges as they moved quickly to the front. But Fausta did. She snarled under her breath as she whispers in Spanish.
"Malditos Pinkerton." Fausta hisses under her breath. "What the hell they doing here."
Weiss had heard about the Pinkertons from Fausta a few times. Nothing pleasant about them. Though she could see why, the way they carried themselves it reminds her of the multiple strikebreakers her father would employ back home. They watched as the five made their way to the front to a nervous Auctioneer.
"Um, may I help you five? I was almost finished with a sale." The Auctioneer inquires.
"Well I'm afraid you must halt this sale." The women spoke before pulling out a sheet of paper. "Agent Marie Winchester of the Pinkertons Police. We are here to seize that item you were about to auction off."
She then points to the obsidian dagger causing the Auctioneer to look with surprise as he snatches the papers Ms. Winchesters hand. "Bu-bu… but you can't do this. What provocation would the establishment ever conceived on allowing you to take one of our items. Especially when the young woman in the back was about to make the sale for it."
Ms. Winchester turns to look at Weiss. Taking note of her appearance with a suspicious eye before turning back to the Auctioneer. "As you can see on the warrant made by circuit District Attorney Sterling Carr; this item you acquired was fenced from a family and sold on the black market. By order of my employes we are here to return the stolen item."
The Auctioneer rereads the warrant he was holding and was outraged by it. Angrily he shoves it back towards her. "Fenced goods, do you dare to besmirch our establishment as a black market?! We bought this artifact through most trusted and legal sources. To suggest this was stolen is a stain and an insult to the Bonhams and Butterfield auction house."
"Well maybe it is one of your buyers who are less then scrutinous with their acquisition of arts. None the less we will be taking this item into our custody. If you interfere we have no qualms taking you with us… in handcuffs." Ms. Winchester said in an intimidating and almost eager voice as she pats a pair of handcuffs on her waste. The Auctioneer turn and look at the men who seem to be giving him a dirty look. After a few moments he begrudgingly relents. Ms. Winchesters cruel smirk fades to a calm one before saying, "Thank you sir, we do apologize for the inconvenience this has been for you and the Auction house. We will be out of your way momentarily."
The men then begin to remove the knife from the case, however as soon as the Pinkerton touches it he snaps back his hand dropping the artifact. Earning the distress of the auctioneer, the attention of the audience, and the ire of Ms. Winchester. She proceeded to scold the agent. "Careful with that you fool! If that smashes it will be coming out of your paycheck!"
"Sorry Ms. Winchester. Thing must of have a static charge to it." He said as he picks it up off the ground. Looking it over carefully before showing that it was still intact.
"Doesn't excuse unprofessionalism Mr. Williams. Even then you were told not to smudge it either." Ms. Winchester said continuing to snap at her subordinate as she puts on her gloves before taking the artifact.
She then moved it into a satchel that was then locked with multiple locks. Once secured she hands the satchel to the guard who had dropped it before he was escorted by the fellow men. They made their way down the isle back to the door. All eyes on them as they leave with the item. As they moved out, Ms. Winchester stops just at Weiss. Looking her up with a curious glance, Fausta glairing angrily at Ms. Winchester as she didn't pay much attention to the old women. After a few moments of silence, Ms. Winchester speaks to Weiss.
"I'm sorry you will not be getting your prize today… but have we met before?" Ms. Winchester asked Weiss.
"No I don't believe we have." Weiss said as she moves her prosthetic arm over her lap.
"Hmm, my apologize then." Ms. Winchester said as she walks to the door, but not before looking back at Weiss. Shrugging one last time before walking out the doors as the scene slowly follows.
Oakland Central station, a few hours later
The scene opens at the Oakland train station. It's now in the evening and by now Weiss and Fausta were ready to go home. Despite losing the rare prize she was more than satisfied with the items she has purchased. 12 paintings, five Qing vases, one impressive katana, and 4 dolls. Weiss watches as the men load the items onboard the fourgon. Since the auction, San Fransico seemed to have gotten a bit colder, the winds being especially harder than normal. With those winds brought storm clouds off in the distance, giving Weiss a strange feeling of unease hence why she is carefully watching the artwork she purchased be loaded. As she watches with cautious glare, she caught something in the corner of her eye. It was those Pinkertons. They seem to be boarding the train as well, Ms. Winchester who was among them directing them as she does. The one with the artifact seems to be a bit underdress for the freezing winds but was not bothered by this. As she watches on silently, she hears the sounds of thunder over head as the dark clouds begin to form. Not wanting to stand in the rain she made her way down the train to first class. Boarding inside before making her way to her coach, opening it to find Fausta trying to sleep.
"Satisfied that your tax write offs are safely onboard?" Fausta asked from under her Stetson.
"Hush these paintings will do more then get you a good deal on the upcoming market crash… but no it's just… (Sigh) I don't know. A bad feeling." Weiss said as she sits down.
"A bad feeling?" Fausta asked still not looking up from under her Stetson. "Princesa de nieve, you have been preaching bad feelings like it were the end of days. Now you are starting to be worried?"
"There's a fine line of preventable financial crisis and avoidable crisis. Just… (Sigh) you know what never mind it was just a dumb feeling." Weiss said as she turns to look out the window. As she stares out at the station, she hears the whistle of the locomotive blow and the train begins to pull out of the station.
Weiss looks on as the station slowly begins to pull out of view. She continued staring on as her eyes begin to grow heavy. It will be a long trip to Denver before switching trains heading for Houston. As she slept silently the storm ahead begins to grow worse as the train heads east. Soon as they pass Sacramento and into the mountains did it begin to snow. First falling down quickly before becoming heavy and blinding. The wind blew into the side of the Locomotive that the windows begin to creek, and the noise blared over the steam powered engine of the locomotive. As it does the scene pulls into the far end of the train. In the fourgon, four Pinkertons stand guard over the package, the fourgon was not made to keep the whole car insolated so the men had little protection from the sudden drop in temperature. However only one seemed to not be bothered by the cold. As he stands there slowly tugging at his collar as the room felt overwhelmingly hot his eyes turn to the locked satchel they were meaning to protect.
Something inside the satchel just called out to him urging him to open it. He resisted for a time but never let his eye leave satchel. Finally having enough the three men got up, asking for the fourth to stay behind while they get hot coffee. Agreeing he let them leave before turning back to the Satchel once he's certain they were gone. He knelt down and inspected the locks, finding the metal freezing to the touch. Snapping in his fingers with ease. As he opens up the satchel almost mindlessly, he pulls out that ritualist dagger. Staring over it he felt even more hotter, to the point that he begin to unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. Feeling beyond stuffy he staggers to the door and pulled the doors wide open. He smiles happily as the cool breeze cooled him down. As he bathes in the cold wind he noticed something off in the distance, something gliding on the cold winds, his eyes widened as it turns to him. Opening its elongated maw and pointing to him with it's long slender finger. The Pinkerton let's out a loud scream before cutting to Weiss.
She just awoke from a nightmare. In which she was back in that god forsaken city beneath the Australian desert. Rubbing her eyes she looked around before suddenly flinching. Her hand had touched the window of her cabin. It was beyond freezing cold to the touch and she grew up in Atlas, she never in all her years ever felt something so cold. Taken back by this she was about to warm her hand when she recalled that she didn't had a left hand to warm. She looked up to see Fausta was fast asleep. Her hat only shifted a bit down as she slept silently. Deciding best not to wake her Weiss quickly and quietly removed herself from the room and head to the café car. As she enters she was surprise to see a familiar face at the bar.
"Oh, Mr. Philips, I'm surprised to see you here." Weiss said as she spots Mr. Philips at the bar dirinking tea.
"Oh, Ms. Schnee, did not expect to run into you so soon." Mr. Philips said as he turns to Weiss. "You heading East as well?"
"Just till Denver. And you?" Weiss asked as she sits down beside Mr. Philips.
"Aw, Chicago before heading north." Mr. Philips explains with a cheeky smile as he removes his spectacles. "If I may ask, why are you up so late?"
"Late?" Weiss asked before looking at the clock. It was just past two in the morning. "Huh, so it seems. But if you must know I simply had trouble sleeping. The cabin I was staying it has gotten remarkable colder."
"Hmm, quite. Not sure where this snow storm had come from, especially so late into the summer. But it is unnaturally cold. May slow down our ride till we passed the Rockies." Mr. Philips adds before taking a sip from his tea.
"Why are you up, also the cold?" Weiss inquires from Mr. Philips.
"Hmm, no. I'm use to this sudden temperature drops back home. No I'm bit of an insomniac." Mr. Philips answers. "Mainly due with the stress of today's auction. I'd had love to buy that artifact that we were all bidding on."
"Yeah… Had I won I'd love to loan it to you for the duration of the ride. It was a beautiful piece." Weiss remarks as she turns to the Bartender, "Orange Pekoe if you have it."
The Bartender nods and proceeds to brew a cup for Weiss. As she does Mr. Philips remarks. "That would have been kind of you. Shame the Pinkertons got ahold of it."
"That reminds me." Weiss said as she receives her cup of tea. "I am not familiar with the Pinkertons beyond what my acquaintance has told me. Though it's safe to assume her bias in this matter makes her an untrustworthy sort."
"Well I can answerer that for you. The Pinkertons were founded in 1850 by an Irish Immigrant they would gain a reputation as the 'Knights of capitalism' as they made use of ground break criminal sciences and methodology to track down and protect whoever hired their services. Mainly gold transportation, factory owners, and politicians like Aberham Lincon." Mr. Philips explains in detail.
"I'm aware of that. Ms. Fausta told me how they would be glorified body guards. Who stretch the limits of the law to chase down their targets. Along with that they have a history of intimidation, strike breaking, and brutality when it comes to the confine of the laws." Weiss said with a shrug. "To be honest I thought it was her being bias given her own upbringing but seeing them in push around that auctioneer. There may be some truth to that bias."
"Hmm, that they are. Suppose that's to be expected from the second national detective agency." Mr. Philips said earning the attention of Weiss.
"Oh? Second who's the first?" Weiss asked.
"That would be Blackwood. I believe we talked about them when we first met." Mr. Philips answers referring to the discussion about Ms. Aestas Blackwood. "From 1856 the two have had a bitter rival after a former secretary by the name of Kate Warne stole some sensitive documents from Blackwoods original branch and used those papers to become a detective for the Pinkertons. Since then the two agencies had a sort of bitter rivalry. Sometimes getting to the point of open conflict between the two agencies."
"Hmm… that seems a bit dramatic for a few sheets of paper." Weiss muses before hearing the door open on the other end of the train. "I'm sure a simple apology wouldn't be to much to…"
Before she could even finish her eyes turn to the stranger who walked in through the door causing her to freeze. "MONTY ALMIGHTY!"
Mr. Philips turns around and freezes in shock. Before them was one of the Pinkerton agents, standing with his eyes torn out. Beyond the graphic removal of his eyes, his clothes were a mess with a mixture of blood frozen to it and protruding as if icicles in every angle. His clothes were not the only thing frozen but his movement gave a rigor mortis porcupine impression. He shuffles forward in a trance like state, moaning through hushed breath that seemed to spew the air in his lungs like frozen condensation. Mumbling in-between those cold hazy strokes of breath. "L' vulgtmah, l' vulgtmah… mgfm'latghnah, hnah."
The three looked on with shock as the Pinkerton continue mumbling before the bar tender finally speaks up, asking if he is alright. The Pinkerton stops before twisting violently towards the Bartender. He let's out a hollow shriek before flinging himself towards the Bartender. Weiss acting quick pushed the Bartender back before the possessed Pinkerton could snatch him out from behind the bar. It suddenly noticed the presence of the two people it slammed in between and begin moving raggedy and sporadically about like a rabid animal. It tried to swipe at Weiss and Mr. Philips. Both fell back as the Pinkertons moved about trying to swipe them with it's precarious shards of frozen blood.
Weiss reaches for her weapon only to remember she left it back in her in her cabin. Quickly looking around she see's the possessed Pinkerton rushing at Mr. Philips. He was absolutely shocked by the circumstance. Nearly missing his step as he tried to avoid this frenzy man man's swipes. He was pinned against the wall but managed to dive out of the way before the frenzy loon smashes the wall, causing the wood to splinter. The Pinkertons turns to Mr. Philips and raises his hand to strike him when Weiss rushes over and threw water at him. The Pinkerton let's out a howling scream as he collapses to the floor. Weiss unceremoniously drops the kettle before helping the horrified occultist.
"Greyson. You alright?" Weiss asked as she helped him to his feet.
"Dandy… what the deuce did you threw at him?" Mr. Philips asked as he catches his breath.
"The hot water leftover from the tea." Weiss explains as she watches the man worm in agony. More so then he should have. "Hmm, seems hotter than I though."
"Or perhaps the mixture of cold and hot water mix with the injuries he sustained seemed to have more serious affect then once initialized." Mr. Philips comments as he fixes his glasses. Just as he finishes, the Pinkerton agent slowly pulled himself to his feet, he was about to leap forward when a gun shot rang out. Followed by two more direct hits to the body. The Pinkerton fell dead to the ground and the two turned to their mysterious rescuer.
It was Ms. Winchester, armed with a 38 revolver. She was rather calm despite killing her fellow college so cold blooded but seems to take no pleasure from it either. As she walked forward, she kept her pistol trained on him till she approaches. Looking down at the dead man she gave a quick kick to her leg to see if he would move. After a few moments, she came to the conclusion he's dead… officially. Holstering the weapon in her blouse jacket she turned to the two.
"Now… what in sanity's name happened to Mr. Olson?" Ms. Winchester asked the two directly. As they explained what had happened the view slowly pulls down to the body of the dead Pinkerton. Unaware of what is happening, something seems to be moving in the dead mans neck. Slowly his jaw slacks and a gust of cold air left his lips hushing a single phrase as it seeps away. "Avaloth" before the scene cuts to black.
Hello Everybody, Wombag1786 back from my long Vacations.
I do apologize for my long silence a lot of things had to be sorted before my return to FF. But I wasn't just idle during my 5 month break. I had done some work both in and out of writing. Working with Graphics3 to put out chapter 2 of the comic illustration of this FF, as well as the side project for RWBY plays HOE now officially coming to an end… for now. But that brings me back to the point I made above. So I made some changes to the next few arcs, mainly adding more as I dived deeper into the Mythos and obscure history and learned new things. So with this new bout of arcs (Lets call it season 2) I plan on commissioning a cover art to replace the current one (Original can be found on my Deviant Art Account) And I want you the audience to vote on it. I will post a poll on my main FF page and hold it till we finished the arc. I'll post the title's (Don't want to give to much away, even mentioning who will appear in the story might give a hint) at the bottom of each chapter till the last one in this arc. Think wisely cause I'm only commissioning one.
Now onto the question and comments.
From Black Cross0: Yeah… Magic is a bitch in this universe. One misspoken syllable, one missing ingredient, one lapse in concentration and the next thing you know the pet store next door goes poof in blood soaked in fur and feathers. That's if your lucky. Ren however had to sacrifice something to insure this Lustmord spirit goes away and well… seems his sacrifice while overkill was sufficient.
Yep… bright side least Blake's Nun disguise might improve.
Oh, something tells me we will see her again. After all, New York has it's own secrets.
She may be in her element but I assure you… if Weiss is the Ice Queen, then you shall witness the true Emperor of frost, greed and gluttony.
Thanks, I have and will.
Thanks for writing Black Cross0
From Carre: 1. No problem
2A. Yeah… truth be told depending on how the players go about the ritual it adds a % of how successful it is. (Case in point players choose to do it at his shed it adds 5%, at the street 20%, in his apartment 30%. And that's just location. The Keeper at the end of the scenario would roll the dice to find out if it succeeds or not) So it seems they either didn't use the right items or gotten seriously unlucky.
2B. Well… This is his physical body. To give some context, the Dream lands can only be accessed two ways. One through your dreams, or two by magic doors. (Only door I know of without a silver key is somewhere in Siberia. But that's guarded by Atlach-Nacha) Ren entered the dream land through his dreams and therefor can enter and exit the lands through such method. This is only his spirit form not his physical body (Think Avatar Last Airbender where Aang visits the spirit Realm.) if his physical body were to be killed then his spirit would return to the Dream land (like a form of cheating death) however if that dies then he is truly dead. If his spirit form dies in the dreamland then it would return to his body and he can no longer enter the dream lands. Does that help explain the Dream lands rules?
2C. A classic line for a classic tale.
2D. It is… though that is a bit of an umbrella term for the entity or it's spawn. But let's say Weiss may be dethroned as the Ice queen soon enough.
3. Thanks and don't worry… it could have been a lot worse. (It could have appeared as the Bloated women.)
Thanks for writing Carre.
Thank you all for your silent wait for this chapter, It's a bit of a slow burn but it will soon pick up. The next chapter will drop like usual in three weeks. Till then tell me, did you spot the clues left behind in this chapter? I full intend to leave a new trail of clues in these upcoming arcs. I look forward to hearing your theories.
Speaking of, Please FAV and FOL the chapter.
This is Wombag1786 Signing off.
1. The Painting of Zann
2. The Chill of the Past
3. The Swine of Manchester
4. Five Year's of Red
5. The Jade Tiger of the East
6. The Sin of the Mother
7. The Sign of Witt
8. The Lost set
9. The King in the swamp