Christopher Jackson
Stories
5
Chapters
2,224
Words
1.9 M
Comments
0
Reading
6 d, 16 h
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“It has been a group project for us all,” they replied quietly. “She was active on Earth here for over a thousand years under various guises. We’ve basically folded up those in her Cult.” That had been a wonderful Karmic experience for many members of law enforcement and the Heavenly Churches, and the fallout was still rippling through the higher levels of society in Europe. The lilitu hadn’t been the type to expand her influence among the poor, after all. “We’ve relayed on the names of…-
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Water began to boil out of nowhere, forming paws, tentacles, and fins, grasping and foaming at the dead men. Their bodies began to deflate as the water was drawn out of them, and with it, the desperately struggling souls of the dead men. They were writhing and screaming, but the Waters were having none of it. They wrapped and wrestled, streaming towards the salty sea just below as their captives struggled helplessly against the morass of appendages and inhuman grasping limbs holding them, and poured over…
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“The Deep Ones aren’t known for playing nice with anyone, let alone Fey females. Checking to see if there’s a known Waterbound presence up here...” Off in Heavenbound Hall, records were quickly accessed, even as there was a lot of transcribing being done for the preparation to go to a non-electrical tech level. “None. Which doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” The Waterbound were a diverse bunch, scattered between those that were truly Wavebound, and those bound to Oceans, Seas, Lakes, and…
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As always, touching the slumbering Presence of the local landscape was a new and magnificent experience, making them feel quite small. Owing to the massive amount of mountains, this Land definitely felt masculine. Lands with predominating plains, forests, and rivers were always Motherlands, while the mountains and hills were Fatherlands. Like normally, the awareness of the Land was quite passive, suppressed by the Shroud. Still, the standard Pact energized, and the combined camouflage of earth and sky…
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All of them had full sensory input, so they could all exult in the feeling of strength, power, and control that so far exceeded what they’d had on their own, even the former Amazons. They didn’t have to worry about eyestrain, either, because right now, they just had a The bastard of a Warlock who’d Consumed her had been using her identity to arrange smuggling trips bringing Mexicans into America, fleeing the gang violence, and then opportunistically picking off some of the immigrating women to…
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Even The Mick’s knees wobbled at that welcome. That was literally hundreds of thousands of /voices slamming down upon all of them in totally sincere and hopeful welcome, and likely the most shocking and momentous moment of their entire lives. His Banner popped over ten feet more, too. There were tears coming down faces, none of them watery clear. As one, the Clanners all stood up, and with their Liege, roared back at the whole Allegiance, “BLOOD OF THE IRISH!” together. Those standing to the side…
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From the outside, my days were long and booooooring. After all, I was spending twenty-two hours a day running across the ocean, mapping out things that wanted to avoid my attention. They didn’t know they wanted to avoid me, but as undersea settlement after settlement ghosted across my Oddly enough, riding along on an Eidolon as advanced as mine with I was doing a lot of design stuff on the steampunk side, since it was the most advanced tech that could be made without tripping stuff, and even then,…
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“Can ye do it, Mick?” Edmund the jujun asked, a little awed at the implications. “Get all o’ us out there?” “Not a chance. But I can ask crazy Jesus-girl, an’ she’ll take ye out there like she has all the Tombs there now. If ye’re willing t’ put dead Chinamen back t’ rest, and then bleed Cultivators, she’ll take ye all.” He looked at Hogambe again. “She’ll have words for ye, too.” The Irish looked at one another, reading the situation. The Aura these two Blooded bore was…
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The dishes were cleaned away, the bottle of bloody ambrosia was empty, and lighter vintages worth not quite so much had replaced it. The door to the room was closed, and the serious talk began. “Before we begin serious words, let me introduce ye to me Blood-Bonded young lady, proper nag, sword witch, and all-around better person than I, Amaretta Blakhamar,” The Mick introduced her formally. “If ye be wondering about her lineage, she be of the Tarantkov.” “A Russian witch, is it?” Wrapped…
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Old Man Kregor pulled the door shut, and there was a subtle flash of magic. The Mick didn’t miss the symbol hanging about the White’s throat. “Ye sold out to the Ivory King?” he exclaimed, clasping his chest as he joined the old White. “Me heart! The ancestors, whatever will ye tell them when ‘tis time?” “I won’t be talkin’ to ‘em, we’re goin’ t’ different places,” the old White answered firmly, without a flicker of regret in his pale eyes. “Looks t’ be you’ve been…
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