My name is Orin Clawthorne.
I am the patriarch of the Clawthorne clan. Our specialty is Palistrom carving, of which we have become renowned across the Isles for, revolutionizing our way of life via Palisman companions.
This is, for lack of a better term, a diary. A personal journal of mine to help me cope with, shall we say, recent tragedies. My wife, Siobhan, recommended I do so.
Where do I begin, really?
My daughter – Titan bless her heart – has just given birth to a son. Normally, any other father would be excited at the prospect of becoming a grandfather and knowing the future of not just your child, but your lineage as a whole is in good hands, but I don't share this excitement.
For my grandson will grow up without a father.
I've had my fair share of problems with him. A bit much to lay out, frankly, but I never would have wished such a gruesome scenario on him, let alone the rest of us experiencing it.
Especially not that thing.
I can still see its eyes. Its skin as black as pitch, blending with the darkness of the night and the only things that assured you it was there were its blood red cape, silver armor that gleamed in what little light there was, and green eyes full of malice.
I still see it in my nightmares…
I suddenly don't feel like writing anymore…
Black Diamond Penthouse
Morningstar looked out the window to the setting sun in contemplation as his assistant sorted the last of the files in his office. He swirled the shot glass in his hands as he stared away at the horizon.
"That's the last of them, sir," his assistant muttered, her many eyes blinking away as she stared at him looking out the window, still as a statue, "Sir?"
"I built my company from nothing, you know," he muttered, sipping his glass and listening to the ice clacking against each other, "I remember all the headlines decrying me like the back of my hand."
He clenched the glass in his hand, "they called me a vagrant with aspirations far too big for his own good. A fool with pipe dreams of wealth. All of this slander only worsened when news spread about my bile sac and heart surgeries."
The assistant watched with a few raised brows as he began to shake, the clinking of ice in his glass signifying it, "Well, who's laughing now?" He continued in a low tone, "And for years I sat comfortably near the top, influencing and talking to the right people… Black Diamond. A name that signifies respect and power. Now I am the de facto leader of the biggest crime ring in the Isles. My palace – no – my empire of ebony…"
He then grit his teeth, "Until that fucking Hellspawn showed up and turned everything into a house of cards!" He then clenched the glass so hard, it shattered in his hands, the last of the drink and ice spilling onto the floor and mixing with the blood that dripped from the shards in his palm.
The assistant took a few steps back as her many eyes shone concern as her boss took a few deep breaths, looking at his bloodied and cut palm and huffing, grabbing a handkerchief and wrapping it around the wound. He turned to her, "What's the status of the move?"
"G-going gracefully, sir." she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He nodded before moving past her..
He then spoke to her, "what's the location of the bunker?" he asked, his tone flat and low.
"It's near the right glenohumeral of the Titan, sir."
"It's one of Griffin's right?" He asked again, receiving a nod from her. He responded with a sigh, "great…"
He looked back at his assistant and motioned her to move out. She quickly exited the office. Just as he was about to follow suit, he stopped himself at the door.
The thought of living near Griffin uneased him. Sure, he's done some stuff that didn't exactly make him a paragon, but compared to Griffin, he was innocent, especially with those things in the basement.
He shuddered, "Bastard," he muttered before looking at his now empty office one last time and closing the door on it. It felt strange how he no longer felt safe in his own building, a building that he spent years investing, refurbishing, and promoting. A fortune he crafted from nothing.
Now, it was basically a giant bullseye.
He looked at his hand again, the handkerchief staining red with his blood. He grimaced and closed the door to his now empty office.
The Laboratory
Griffin carefully welded a piece onto the prosthetic he was working on, his goggles naturally protecting his eyes from the harsh light as he did his work. Meanwhile, Odalia sat on the edge of a table and watched, careful not to look directly in the welding light, her leg crossed over the other as she tapped the table with her fingers.
"That should do it." the scientist muttered as he put the welder away, testing the half-built prosthetic, noting that it moved perfectly, "excellent."
"Your progress is astounding, Victor," Odalia commented, "I've never seen someone work so fast based on just blueprints."
"Solitude is the best motivator," Griffin responded, "it allows me to concentrate better."
Her lips thinned, "surely it must be lonely," she added, "even a mind as brilliant as yours couldn't stand being so cooped up in here."
"You'd be surprised," the scientist smirked before his eyes spared a quick glance at Jerram sorting out lab equipment, "though I wouldn't mind a hand or two every now and then."
Odalia's brow raised in intrigue, "what drives a mind like yours to be lonely?" she muttered.
"Certain… individuals do not appreciate my work." He flatly responded, testing a servo as he did, "an unfortunate outcome when you push the boundaries of both magic and science."
"Oh?" her curiosity peaked, "and what kind of work involves that?"
"I can't quite describe the full process."
"Oh, I'm sure I can handle it."
Griffin stopped and looked up, not even turning to see her, "Have you ever thought of dying, Odalia?"
The room suddenly grew cold with that question.
Odalia's skin raised, "Y-yes?" she hesitantly answered.
"Think of my work as… undoing it."
Odalia gulped, "How so?"
He finally turned to face her, "I can't show you it, now, but I can assure you that I've spent many years of my life working towards its success. Of course, no success comes without many failures…" he seemed to pause before continuing, "failures that had me rejected from every man of science in the Isles that could have helped me, including your husband."
Odalia's breath hitched. She knew Griffin was controversial thanks to Alador's description, but the way he was describing his treatment, it was as though he was outright shunned. Persona non grata. She felt bad that a brilliant mind like his was essentially excommunicated everywhere.
Griffin continued, "I assure you, Odalia, with the work I've accomplished, death will be but a bump in the road."
"A road to what?"
"Immortality."
As Griffin turned back to work on the prosthesis, something in Odalia clicked. A spark of curiosity that ignited within her a fire of realization.
The truth is, while she hated to think about it, she was in her late forties and was already pushing fifty. Her daily routines of self-care to appear more youthful than she was were getting more and more monotonous by the year and were only prolonging the inevitable. It was only a matter of time before her routines slowly failed. A stray wrinkle here, a gray hair there, all stacking up as the years, if not months, roll by. An inevitable reminder that age will catch up to even her.
Not helping matters was Amity's rebellious behavior as of late. Dating that human troublemaker was one thing, but dying her hair lavender and not the color of her beautiful mint green was another. Edrick and Emira have also been talking about switching courses and "finding their new groove." It sickened her knowing that the heirs to both her fortune and the company were throwing away the future that she had practically given to them on a literal silver platter like this.
And, of course, to top it all off, Alador has been growing more and more distant lately. Not just in the fact that he's focusing more on the next invention, but also emotionally. Their talks weren't exciting, every plan for a date shot down, they don't even sleep in the same bed anymore.
Suffice to say, things were looking bad for the future of the Blight House and the industry it spawned, only saved by the Emperor's decision to mass produce the new Abomaton models.
But this?
This could change everything.
Being immortal meant she could be the sole heir to the company and the fortune. She wouldn't need to worry about how her ungrateful children and neglectful husband waste it all if she was the sole survivor. And there were so many things she could accomplish with such a prospect. So many companies she could crush and absorb, so many opportunities and technology to exploit, and that's just the Boiling Isles. There were more islands beyond, each with their own set of opportunities.
A smirk curved upwards on her lips, elation and triumph rushing through her at the mere thought of this. She looked back to Griffin, hard at work on the prosthesis, knowing this was going to be the start of something great.
Besides, there was an allure that Griffin had that she quite liked. Something her husband had long lost….
Perhaps when all of this was over, she could arrange a company merger and personally ensure Alador was one of the layoffs.
Clawthorne Estate
"Oh, Edalyn, we were so worried!" Gwendolyn exclaimed, hastily pouring a cup of tea for her daughter.
"Mom, please, you're embarrassing me," Eda said, very tired of being smothered and cramped by everyone, "in fact, all of you are kind of embarrassing me."
"Sorry, Eda," Luz sheepishly smiled, "we're just happy you're ok."
The middle-aged witch's face softened, "I know, I know…" she conceded as she sunk further into the seat she sat in for further comfort.
"What happened to you, anyways?" Lilith asked, holding her own mug of tea, "you disappeared on us for an hour only to just show back up?."
Eda refrained from talking about the talk with the Hellspawn, "I just… needed some space."
"I had a suspicion you did," Dell spoke up, "it's why I knew you would come back soon."
"Most parents would have sent out a search party," the owl lady retorted, much to Dell's amusement.
"We considered it, Edalyn" he chuckled, "but I had faith and a feeling that you would have preferred to come back on your own volition."
"Aww, pops," she chuckled, turning to him, "you always had faith in me, didn't you?"
"I always did, my little owlet."
She cringed, "Dad, don't call me that in front of my student, it's embarrassing!"
"Do you not call me that?" Luz asked.
"That's different!" the witch retorted.
"Oh, you call your own student that!?" Dell beamed with pride, "Oh, that's wonderful!"
"Stop it…" Eda grit her teeth as she tried to bury herself in her own dress as Luz and King giggled at her situation. Even Lilith and Gwendolyn spared a chuckle or two as the latter went back into the kitchen to get some sweets.
Eda, of course, would not admit it, but she is cherishing every moment of this. A great big weight was finally lifted off her shoulders and she finally got to experience just being with both her parents again. It was something she never thought she'd appreciate to such a level before, but she won't take it for granted again.
Suddenly, a knocking on the door was heard. Luz immediately rushed towards it and opened it, revealing Amity, Gus, and Willow.
"We came as fast as we could!" Amity exclaimed, hugging Luz tightly before pulling back, "is everything ok?"
"Yes, everything's fine, guys," Luz reassured her girlfriend, "we're all ok."
Relief fell upon all their faces, "Oh, thank Titan," Willow exasperated as Amity hugged Luz even tighter.
"Ok, where did all you freeloaders come from!?" Eda exclaimed.
Luz, turned to her, sheepishly, "I… may have told Amity via our little tamagotchi," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a yellow electronic device that resembled a cartoon cat, emojis on the screen meant to represent text on display.
Eda threw a hand up, "well, I guess I should have seen that coming."
Gwendolyn then walked into the living room, holding a platter of freshly baked cookies. She then saw the new guests, "Oh, dear," she chuckled at the sight of the three youths, "I guess I'll have to make some more tea."
Castle Orlok
The ruins of the castle were even more quiet than usual, save for the sounds of a few grunts of exertion as a few thugs lifted up wooden coffins that were so aged, they looked like they could crumble to splinters. In spite of the weight, they persevered, for the contents inside were more important than all their lives combined.
The last survivors of Orlok's new vampire crew were being carried while they were asleep in their coffins, per Orlok's actual request, as he preferred having to travel to the location at night, and not carried by potentially clumsy idiots who would drop him and let him die in the sunlight.
The Count watched as, one by one, all the coffins in the room were taken down and carried by his men, leaving the room where he slept in just a bit emptier.
He can't believe he thought of this, but he was starting to miss Reynolds. Sure, he was a pathetic sycophant who annoyed him constantly, but he was loyal and added some much needed dialogue to break the eternal silence of the ruins of the castle. In a way, he was his only friend, aside from the other family heads.
Then again, he couldn't tell if it was reminiscence or regret that he wasn't the one to kill him and make him a last-minute midnight snack. No… Instead, his soul was devoured by Draven.
He frowned at the thought of him. Like the other Syndicate members, with the exception of Griffin, he didn't trust the lich. He was secretive, refusing to speak with anyone about anything, even the most basic plans, always hovering over in conversations like an unseen phantom; and when he did speak, he spoke with an obvious contempt for everyone, as though he had better things to do. Even though it was his idea to form a crime syndicate in the first place….
Of course, the real reason he hated Draven was because he was a physical reminder as to what was happening to him: His rotten body, his insatiable hunger getting worse with every day, a degradation that slowly tore him down, was all represented by Draven's ailing body, barely hung together by the last, dry strings of ligaments, and a pain only lessened by the consuming of other's essence.
Even while younger, Orlok had been warned by his vampire kin that their kind always faced the threat of a degradation that no amount of blood would fix. A devolution into feral bat creatures that were no more intelligent and reasonable than a savage animal; a beast to be put down.
Of course, there were remedies for this: Ancient magicks that kept them in good health. Charms, amulets, wards, you name it. Unfortunately, all knowledge regarding these treatments was either taken or destroyed by Belos during his rise to power.
Now, he spends many nights fearing the day where thought is replaced by instinct. Arms replaced with permanent wings, lips replaced with a toothy maw, and a sense of self replaced with a sense of survival. His only real remedy was the occasional hibernation and a consistent supply of blood, but he knew it was prolonging the inevitable.
He sighed, longing for the simpler days when he was in good health, lording over a town whose name has been long forgotten to all except him, and even then, he felt the memory slipping away like sand on the wind.
"Renstoker…" he muttered, as though he was just about to forget it.
Suddenly, the sound of the castle doors closing echoed even in the basement, breaking his chain of self-thought. The last of his thugs carrying his newly-turned minions left, leaving him alone in a castle crumbling away by the second. They were to be taken to an area near the right glenohumeral of the Titan, near Griffin's base of operations.
He shuddered at the thought of working near the scientist. If Draven didn't exist, he would focus all his hate on him.
He huffed, retreating back into his coffin to sleep until nightfall, reminding himself of the vow to mount the Hellspawn and Draven's heads on spikes when everything was done.
Dragon's Den Finances
Wilkes shredded the last of the papers down, shoving them into a toothy maw of a beast that burped out a few pieces of torn paper every now and then. She then raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Immediately, two bodyguards with red skull masks covering their faces and white robes hiding their body silently slid towards her. She grabbed the paper shredder beast and shoved it into the hands of one of them.
"Dump its waste into dumpsters at least a block away from this building. Understood?" she ordered, receiving a nod from them both. Just as one was about to turn away, she grabbed one by the shoulder and made them turn to her.
She thinned her lips on one side before removing their mask, licking her thumb and rubbing it on a small smear, removing it. She then put the mask back on the servant. If one were to look closely, one could see their blank eyes that were milky white and faded away, all traces of thought and self gone from them. She then pointed her finger towards the door to tell them to leave, which they did.
"Those ones creep me out."
She moved her eyes to the source of the voice: Tyran, still with one arm and sulking in the corner. She smirked at his comment, "you? Scared of some servants?"
The ogre huffed, "it isn't them by themselves that unnerves me," he clarified, his face hidden by a new bone mask, "it's the process done to them."
"I see no wrong in it," she retorted, "I trusted my life with them and they exploited that trust," a corner of her lips curved upwards when she said that, "now they are bound to it."
Tyran grumbled, instinctively crossing his arm, only to realize he didn't have another arm to cross. He hissed in annoyance at this.
Wilkes scrunched her lips, "Oh, don't be a baby, it's so unlike you."
"You lose an arm while having the constant urge for a rematch." the ogre snarled, which Wilkes didn't flinch at, "my replacement can't come soon enough."
The witch rolled her eyes, "I don't understand your obsession with facing someone who nearly killed you."
"For the same reason I became a hunter," he responded, "the thrill."
She snorted in amusement, "and if you were to die by his hands?"
"I consider that an honorable death."
"And what if you kill him? Does that make it an honorable kill?"
The ogre paused before looking away at the wall.
The witch sneered, "listen, Tyran, I know you're so focused on a future encounter, but I need you in the now," she droned, patting his side, "I didn't hire you as my bodyguard for you to fantasize and daydream."
The ogre snorted before she continued, "so chin up, you'll get your replacement arm soon enough, we just need to relocate to the bunker."
"And where is the bunker?" Tyran asked, looking back at her.
She stared out the window that oversaw the town, off into the distant Titan's skull that hung over the horizon, "near the right shoulder, more or less," she muttered, not bothering with the proper term, "and it isn't far from Griffin's believe it or not."
"I don't have to believe it, I know it." the hunter muttered with a roll of his eyes as though he never explored every inch of the isles during his time as a hunter. Judging by the lack of response, it was clear she was ignoring him.
She then sighed, "I must admit, I'm not looking forward to working closer to that madman."
"He's a useful madman," Tyran commented.
Wilkes shrugged, "Still a madman."
She looked down at her desk and trailed a finger on the edge, wiping off the dust that accumulated on it and again looking out the window. "These are troubling times, Tyran."
He growled in agreement. She continued, "but it will all be over, soon. The Hellspawn may be a new thorn in our side, but it affects our plans little."
"And are you finally going to enact them?" He asked, almost impatiently.
"Just a few more days, my friend," she intoned, "the loss of Crowley was a big blow, but not one we can't recover from. Morningstar so irritatingly assured everyone of that."
"Have you ever trusted that temperamental fool? Let alone everyone else? Especially Draven and Griffin?"
She turned to him, "No, not really," she shrugged, "but then again, we're all criminals. It's just in our nature not to trust one another. Frankly, it's me and Morningstar doing most of the work with the finances and budgets, anyways, so it's not like I never had doubts he put in effort."
The ogre snorted, "say all these plans do succeed? What then? What happens after? Does the Syndicate still exist as an organization? Or do they all split and share the bounty of the aftermath?"
The question made her pause. The ogre smirked, knowing her own questions were turned against her. She chuckled, conceding, "Perhaps we should focus on the now, instead."
The ogre continued to smirk with satisfaction.
Gwen poured the newly made tea into three new mugs that she had on hand and gave them to Gus, Willow, and Amity one by one. They said their thanks and turned their attention back to Lillith, who just finished telling her experience with the vampires and the Hellspawn, last night, as well as her transformation.
"That must've been scary," Gus said, blowing on his mug, "I can't imagine going through something like that."
"Me neither, until now," Lilith sighed, exasperated and downing her own mug of tea like a shot glass, "I'm just glad it's over."
"At least no one else got hurt." Eda commented.
"What about all those converted cops?" Willow asked.
"What about them?"
Amity sat next to her girlfriend, failing to realize that she was leaning on her all the while, "but wait, how did you turn into that… raven beast or whatever it was called if you took your medicine?"
"That I'm still trying to figure out," Lilith responded, "it triggered after that vampire bit me in the neck and he commented about how 'my blood tasted putrid.'" She shuddered, still unnerved at both that comment and the experience afterwards.
Luz put a finger to her chin, feeling this type of situation was familiar. She then scoured through her memories of biology class, specifically regarding one documentary about the human body they all watched that the rest of the class found boring, but she was enamored with. "Maybe, it's like…" she commented, getting the attention of everyone, "an immune system response!"
Lilith tilted her head as the teenager continued, "the curse was acting like a bunch of white blood cells fighting off a disease!" she exclaimed, "in the process of fighting off the vampire plague, you ended up getting sick, or rather you turned into the Raven Beast!"
"Human biology!" Gus beamed, "incredible!"
"What kind of defense mechanism gets you sick in the process?" Eda asked, flabbergasted at the concept, "sounds like a total ripoff!"
"But an interesting idea nonetheless," Lilith added, a hand on her chin, "Luz, when all this is over, you have to tell me more about how humans work!"
"Hey!" Gus exclaimed, offended, "I was here first!"
Luz chuckled, "I have plenty of stuff of which to tell both of you guys, or at least the stuff I bothered paying attention to in school," she chuckled, "of course, it's all gonna have to wait until this is all over."
Gwendolyn sighed hearing her comment, "and who knows how long that will last?"
Her comment put everyone down, but then Dell put a reassuring, but shaky, hand on his wife's shoulder, "We'll be safe as long as we're all together." He said in his soft voice, which comforted everyone present.
BLAM!
The moment didn't last long as the door then burst open with a force that nearly knocked it off its hinges as everyone jumped out of their seats. The figure standing there shocked all of them to their core.
At the door was Spawn, his green eyes emanating Necroplasm mists like a fog. As soon as he made his presence known, everyone stood back in defensive positions – some behind others – as they grabbed their palismans and prepped spell circles.
The Hellspawn didn't react to this. Instead, he chucked someone towards their feet. He was bound by chains and gagged by duct tape, of which his many grunts tried to break through but only emerging as muffles. His blonde hair was dirtied and ruffled up, his forelock hanging uselessly as he kept squirming in his bonds. Attached to the chain was a red cardinal palisman that was also chained up and had a tiny piece of duct tape on its beak. His uniform was dirtied with mud and dust, but still recognizable, especially among those that were in Belos' service or met him in person.
"The Golden Guard!?" Lilith, Amity, and Eda cried out.
"Hunter!?" Luz shouted, flabbergasted beyond belief.
The cries from the crowd made the blonde teen look upwards and his pupils shrunk to the size of buttons as he saw everyone. He started trying to shuffle away from the crowd in the opposite direction only to be met with the greave covered foot in front of him. He looked up to see Spawn standing above him. Between a rock and a hard place…
Spawn looked at the crowd, all of them fearful, but standing their ground as he spoke.
"All of you need to leave. It's not safe here anymore."