Igor-ish Rant Fragment

"Well, you're still alive and breathing - which has to be a bonus in anyone's books - so, you must have something of value to him after all. By the looks of you though, he wasn't entirely happy so rest up, and let's see if I can help while away the hours until he comes back."

"Where's he gone? Ah, all in its own time I think. Now, let me check those manacles and we'll begin. Let's see - driver's license, insurance, library card - doesn't really match the gothic rebel look you've adopted there does it?"

"Right, we've a lot to get through before dawn, so I'm going to replace the gag, like this... and now we're ready."

"Oh stop moaning, those knives aren't meant for you - what do you take me for? Some mindless slavering Igor with a hard-on for torture and mutilation?"

"Pah, you make me cringe with embarrassment - setting yourself up as a creature of the night; aping things you've never seen for yourself; and then going back to show off your latest act of token rebellion to your addle-brained halfwit friends. But let me tell you something - I've seen and heard them afterwards. They think you're a flake and can't wait for you to go away."

"Well, perhaps tonight we can arrange that for them, one way or another..."

The Thunderers - Descriptive

The Thunderers are a trio of daemonic brothers with seemingly elemental ties. Rarely summoned except to battle, the brothers manifest as broadly muscled behemoths with slick skin that turns unenchanted blades aside. Unlike the traditional image of the daemon, there is little to suggest brimstone, but still their presence reeks of wrongness, barely hidden by the aromatic smoke that typically issues from censers held by their servitors.

Their very presence in this world is marked by sudden stormy weather even from previously sunny and clear skies, while stored food and drink within thirteen miles of their presence is instantly spoiled.

Their great power as shock troops of the otherworld comes from their ground-shaking footsteps, which are prone to knock all enemies within thirty foot of them from their feet. The impact of their sharp-horned fists on armour is accompanied by the crash of thunder and often severely damages it. Within a half-dozen blows, it is not unknown for a fully protected knight to suddenly find his breastplate riven from top to bottom; with another blow heading rapidly for his now vulnerable torso.

Their time in our world on each summoning is fortunately limited to the length of time that the summoner spends in a ritual circle concentrating on the spell. It is typically therefore a primary goal of any commander who has found themselves facing these beasts to locate and disrupt the summoner's concentration.

Benevici fragment

From the eyes of a squirrel, Benevici watched the bustle of activity. A pigeon fluttered in on the bridge's parapet, and he watched through those eyes too.

Crime Fragment

“So here we are again...Happy as can be...” the white haired man’s expression didn’t match the jollity of his sing-song cadenced words. There was a fixed grimace as he almost spat the words out, playing to his audience. There were a mixture of reactions ranging from embarrassed grins and downright mischievous glances from what were obviously work colleagues sharing his lunchtime pub lunch.

Abraham Dennis shuddered to himself and fixed his concentration to staying in the here and now rather than getting caught up in what was beginning to feel suspiciously like a panic attack. Breathe in, breathe out, steady, relax your hands; people will be thinking you’re going to go for them. It was a well-worn mantra that occasionally worked for him. Self consciously, he unhooked his fingers from the rictused claws they had become and closed his eyes for a moment. It was a bad one. He felt as if every fibre of his being wanted to run from the building - or to explode - or both at once. Taking a sharp breath in, he instead opened his eyes again, and mentally pushed and packaged the panic into what he could only visualise as a small room. If he let myself, he could still feel the panic scratching away in the depths, but it would hold for now.

He took the time to finish his meal – although to be fair he bolted most of it rather than savour it. This was definitely a pub from the greasy spoon end of the culinary arts. It was warm though and filling – and right at this moment that was all Dennis needed. His pager rumbled quietly at his hip again. Reluctantly he glanced down at the display.

Crime Fragment

They had a suspect. They had him in custody. They just didn't have enough to hold him and unfortunately the suspect knew it. Dennis and Grayson looked through the glass at the tall and heavily built man. Plainly dressed in black jeans and black cotton t-shirt, he was sitting quietly, with his palms flat to the table. Dennis felt uneasy even at this remove.

Horror fragment

Hobbnet's body and limbs seemed to waver and flow with a boneless surge that put Faith in mind of an octopus, surging and elongating. He or it pulled forward up the staircase, like water flowing uphill, tattered clothing binding or shredding loose, or just dropping off as limbs and torso ballooned, shrank, tapered or twisted. And all through this the vacant eyed head lolled on vestigial shoulders.

A Little Light Horror

The warm darkness shivered and he was alone in the night again. The unseen object was heavy in his hand, its edges digging into his flesh where icy fingers curled around it. The natural noises of the evening began to reassert themselves in querulous birdsong and the distant barking of dogs.

He realised he was drenched in sweat and started looking round for a park bench. He settled for a grass tussock instead, ignoring the dew dampness in the seat of his trousers. Painfully, slowly, he forced his fingers to open to reveal his prize.

A lozenge of glassy metal – impossible to tell the colour in the moonlight – lay in his palm. Something about it drew the eye so that it felt like the centre of the landscape. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and thrust the object into his coat pocket, then he lay back and closed his eyes briefly, exhausted.