#Cathborough

[dongtopus]

On Ouroboros

Spawning season had started. To call it a 'season' was innacurate. Ouroboros spawned at inconsistent times and no clear pattern of weather, season or temperature seemed to be relevent.

When the sacks broke, it would be utter bloody chaos. Nobody seemed to know exactly how or when the sacks turned up, or how. Ouroboros were incredibly solitary among their own species and aggressively cannibalistic. Typical spawning events comprosed of twenty to fifty sacks, though one claim went as high as eighty.

When they begun to split, all nearby would react to an airborne chemical reaction and would cause a chain reaction. These creatures were the size of an average man at the point of spawn and would not change drastically.

Those that werent fully consumed before they reached the forest floor often decayed within hours, reducing to a thick, toxic pool. Samples have been incredibly difficult to collect as the area is extremely dangerous and the substance itself either dries or is absorbed by the forest floor within half a day. Notably, mushrooms appear to grow. It is unclear if the body of an Ouroboros contains any spores or similar substances, or if it is the broken down body that accelerates the growth of fungi.

-Fact or Fiction? Stories of the grotesques in the treetops

I have observed only two spawning events in my thirty-something years of research and I will not disclose my methods. Far too many have met a most gruesome fate by attempting to observe such events themselves and I do not wish to encourage.

The level of violence coupled with the short timeframe is a harrowing ordeal to observe. Ouroboros scream at one another, and learn their speech mimicing by first mimicing the cries of their dying clutch-mates. Those that do survive their slow descents from the forest canopy will wait until their clutch-mates reach terra firma with them and will attack. This continues until only one remains.

-Note: In my first observation, one Ouroboros did seem to escape as it had landed at the same time as another, though very quickly returned to the spawning site in an attempted ambush.

Their flesh appears transluscent as they descend as the fluid of their sack is drawn from their bodies. They range from a pale bone-white to a pinkish hue. This does not appear to change much after they have moved on from their spawning site. Their life expectancy is yet to be monitored and I hope to one day work this out with a new book within the next couple of decades.

Dear Reader.

If you happen to wander a particularly quiet forest, be sure to look skyward, for the beasts and birds will not remain in an area with such things for one reason or another. If you do find yourself in the unfortunate predicament of a spawning area, leave as quickly and as calmly and as silently as you can.

Senior Professor Albert Hoose-Hummer

Reasearcher at the Cathborough Institute of Fauna, Flora and Fungi.

[dongtopus]

"It is unfortunate that we do not see eye to eye, Mister Forth-Wight-Berren. I had hoped that after all this time, you would see the merit in at the very least, meeting the bare nessecities of your workforce."

In one motion, Marion unfolded his legs, picked his journal up and snapped it shut. With a slight nod to the minute-taker, Marion turned from the table, leaving his seat untucked. A signal to his chaperone.

"Good manners dictate that I bid my farewells by informing you that it was 'A pleasure to speak with you'."

He passed Knell without even a glance and shut the door behind him. Marion stood for a second, and the heavy thump of Knells bootstep rattled the doorframe.

Marion felt nothing as his leg moved.

As his shoe met the carpet, he jolted awake.

The fireplace had died down considerably, and Marion was reminded that he had not smelled a fireplace in a very long time.

His heart felt cold, and heavy. Somewhere under his chitin, under his skin, he felt uncomfortable. The pale light of dawn crept in through the bay window. Marion rubbed the signet ring on his last finger briefly. He remembered that his skin was chitin now, and worried about grinding away the already faint family emblem on the surface of the sapphire.

A walk. That should do me some good.

[dongtopus]

Best Behaviour.

"Why don't you watch where you're going you pig-skinned idiot!"

A man, just barely taller than Knell himself stood barely two feet away. His pressed trousers soaked through and the street vendor who sold him the beverage still in sight tried her best to not notice, stifling her laugh. Somehow, the liquid had entirely missed his protuding belly.

"I'm talking to you! Are you deaf or something!?"

Spittle splashed around Knell's vacant frown. A loose piece of newspaper, kicked by the wind, slapped across Knell's face.

"I don't think he's all there. Just leave it, Horace. We're running behind as it is." The woman behind him spoke up. She wore a a long powder blue jacket over her shoulders, secured by a thin gold chain across her collar. The left side had shifted behind her shoulder as she held three books and a paper folder under an arm. She was a sturdy woman, taller than both the men there and posessing a lean, muscular build. Her powder blue had started to shift with a stronger gust of wind billowing down the road and she leanred with the current to avoid having to adjust it

The page freed itself from Knell's face and Horace felt his body jolt inside as he found that Knell's gaze had in fact moved to meet his. He swallowed and broadened his chest.

"So there is something in there! Well? Come on? What do you have to say for yourself? Blocking the path like some sort of Idiot mime! Like some sort of human lamp post!? You detritus in meat form! What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at, standing in the doorway to a respectable establishment such as this- can't you see just how busy it is?!"

Knell blinked. Slowly.

His coat shifted against his chest.

He inhaled slowly, steadily. Like the growth of a tree.

Knell's attention drifted off. His fingertips, dangling loose at his sides, twitched.

Horace barked over his shoulder, "Catalina, Hit him!"

"I'm not doing that, Mister Pidgeon. Besides, my hands are full. and we're running behind. Please, let's get going. I don't want to have to scruff my own employer. Not in public."

Horace's ears burned a bright red against his already red, blotchy cheeks, "Shh shh shh! Alright, alright!" He pointed a soft, thick, swollen finger at Knell, bouncing it in place, "You are a lucky man. To be saved by this lovely lady. You ought to at the very least thank her!"

Knell raised his arm and looked at his leather gloved hand. The digits creaked as his curled his fingers into a tight clench. His chest finally began to shrink as the air moved out of his blackend lungs. He was barely audible over the ruckus of the street's chatter and cart-clattering.

"The only one to thank here is in a meeting in this premises. If not for him you'd not be here."

"I beg your bloody pardon!? I don't have any meeting with any man here!"

Catalina took a breath and opened her mouth to speak to correct Horace before Knell continued, his fingers relaxing and dropping back to his side again like a hammer being dropped onto an avil.

"Best Behaviour."

The door behind him creaked open.

"-Yes, yes, and thank you, too! I'll be sure to send one of my associates over with the paperwork in the next couple of days. Yes, of course, thank you again!"

Marion took a step onto the path and stood tall, surverying the situation.

"Mister Pidgeon! A delight to bump into you once more. How are you today? It appears you have met my companion already. All well?"

A pair of eyes, hidden by the brooches guise drifted down to the man's trousers.

"Mister Marion!? This oaf works for you? I would think twice about taking on such dimwitted heavy muscle in future! the man caused me to spill my drink all down me- I am in a rush!" Horace throw his arms out in a grand gesture and pointed a polished shoe toward him, "See!? Ruined!"

"Oh dear, tsk tsk tsk-" Marion shook his head and waggled a bony finger toward Knell, "-That won't do. I own the washateria on the corner of the street, next to the tailors, they are both mine, actually, Please pop in and let the nice lady there know that Marion sent you. Request a 'Number Five'. Short of clothing you entirely at this instant, that's the best I can offer by apology, my good sir."

Marion placed his long fingers gently over Knell's shoulder with a smile.

"I see everyone is still standing. That is marvellous. If you'll excuse me, I'm very busy and am needed elsewhere. Have a wonderful rest of your day, Mister Pidgeon."

With a pat on Knell's shoulder and tucking an arm behind his back, Marion cut between Knell and Horace, setting off at a determined but leasurely pace.

"But my trousers! They are still soaki-"

"Have a wonderful rest of your day, Mister Pidgeon. I am certain we will meet again soon."

Horace looked on at Knell at first in disbelief, then fatal horror as their gaze met for the first time.

Knell's slow steps thudded along the cobbled road behind Marion's leasurely, silent steps.

Catalina leaned past a frozen Horace Pidgeon.

"You look like you need a minute before the meeting. you've gone terribly pale."

[dongtopus]

Mr Bellingham sat down in his creaking old chair he inhereted from his former boss and let out an exhausted sigh. The sun was just starting to burn through the Cathborough morning fog and his clerk, the young Master Eduards was not yet at work.

John Bellingham liked the morning still. Fifteen minutes alone with his pipe. The rustle of this weeks paper and the crackle of the embers as he inhaled through the gently bitten wood.

An icy chill swam through the foyer and into the office, followed by the loud shuddering of Master Eduards.

"Mr. Bellingham, Sir. It's snowing out there."

John kept his paper in front of him and puffed out some smoke as his clerk passed him to the small kitchen behind the office, a small loaf of bread and a thick dried sausage nestled under his arm.

"Is it? Wrong time of year, no?"

"Came out of nowhere, Sir." The young voice echoed in the kitchen as knives and a cutting board were pulled from the drawers.

"Tea?"

"Water, please Ed."

"You usually have tea."

"I know, but I'd like a glass of water right now."

"I'll do you both."

The pipe shifted in John Bellingham's mouth. He was too tired to argue. He had employed Eduard only six months ago, but the young boy's familiarity with him made him feel as though he was his own son.

"By the way, John, that man is outside again."

"Stop that, you know I don't like people using my name." He mumbled just loudly enough to be heard as he turned a page, "He never left. I haven't spoken to him. He'll get bored sooner or later."

"Do you know who he is?"

"I think I might."

The young clerk arrived from the kitchen with a small plate or buttered bread and sliced sausage in one hand, and a tray with a cup of tea and a glass of water.

"A detective ought to know who the mysterious man standing outside of his offfice is."

Biting down on his pipe, John Bellingham stood up from his desk and stepped purposefully to the window. There, down on the street opposite stood a man in a longcoat. He was bald, slightly jaundice, wearing heavy boots and leather gloves.

Striking eyes slowly rose up the building and met the detectives own.

Who are you?

Detective John Bellingham stood at the window, his pipe slowly burning away for the next hour. He daren't move, and the man on the street didn't move.

"Is he still there?"

"mhm."

"Has he done anything?"

"Mmh"

"Isn't he cold? it's still snowing."

"Mmh... He isn't even shivering."

The streets bustled now with all kinds of people. Tradespeople, students, carts and the odd carriage. People moved around the bald man as though he were simply a pillar on the path.

as all crowds tend to do, there was a rush of people along the street but something was significant.

A young boy, no older than eleven, slimbed the wall behind the standing man and leaned toward him.

Bellingham narrowed his eyes and began taking a slow, purposeful breath through his pipe.

The young boy covered his mouth and had clearly said something to the man before vanishing over the other side of the wall.

"Ed. Note the time. Young child. Prepubescent. Climbed the wall and said something to the 'Standing man'. Covered his mouth. 'Standing Man' did not react."

"Yes, sir" speedy scratches in a small book from his attentive clerk behind him. "Do you think he could be deaf?"

"Unlikely. maybe."

Ed mumbled as he added the remark in the margins.

"Ed come here. Keep an eye on him. I;m going down there."

As the young clerk took up the position, book in hand, Detective John Bellingham left thw window, picking up his small pocket-pistol and hat from the hanger by the door.

He rushed down the stairs and swung the door open, a hand in his large coat pocket. A hand kept his hat steady as the sharp, bitter wind whipped past him and Detective Bellingham almost ran across the street, slipping through the crowd as he headed to the Standing Man.

Detective Bellingham looked left, then right. The Standing Man was gone. The snow had not settled on the path and even if it had, there were simply too many people to track any prints.

Ed watched from the window and the detective spat an unsavoury word to the street and returned to the office.

"Where did he go?"

"I didn't see."

Mr. Bellingham shoved the boy, irritated but not furious.

"What do you mean you 'Didn't see'?"

"I don't know! The crowd got heavy for a second and he was gone"

"He doesn't exactly blend in, boy! He's a short bald yellow man!"

"I know!" Eduard shouted back, pushing John's firm hand from his shoulder.

John sneered at the boy and sucked at his teeth as he turned away from the boy.

"Do something useful. Put the fire on. Don't take your eyes off the log."

"Ha. Ha."

The log had barely ignited before the doorbell rang downstairs.

"Ed-"

"I know. I'm on it." Eduard sighed a complaint and headed down the stairs, returning with a tall man in a suit and coat who had to duck under the threshold.

"Good morning, Detective. My name is Marion. I have heard a lot about you, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

[dongtopus]

Itching

The cellar stairs creaked under heavy boots, it was as though with every step the building sank further into the ground.

A handful of continued boot -steps stopped just before the door in the foyer.

“Everything Okay?”

The ambassador was relaxing on his favourite, crimson highbacked armchair. A leg was draped over one of the arms as he had settled into his probably three hundreth or so reading of Inquests into the Cathborough royal palace. Imperial princess Catherine was mourning the death of her elder two siblings and her father, the current Emperor at this point in the book, was suffering from the shield-pox.

Marion didn’t look away from the book. all four eyes danced through the text, feverishly devouring every word, sentence and paragraph.

The silence in the foyer broke.

“I’m going out.”

“oh? anything specific?”

“I need to kill someone.”

Plates around the base of Marion’s ear canal shifted as his ear pricked upward.

“Anyone I should worry about?”

“No.”

you should probably be somewhat responsible here...

“Any...hmm...”

“It itches.”

Two sets of eyes scowled at the book and he turned in his seat to look at his companion.

Knell stood in the dark with one hand slowly scratching at his bared chest and the other slowly opening and closing.

“Itch?”

What could that possibly mean? he doesn’t-

“You don’t fe-”

“In. Here.”

Knell pushed the tips of his fingers into his ribcage, distal bones sinking displacing thick, leathery flesh and sinking between the rack of bones.

His broad chest rose slowly in the dark, his breaths would have been silent if not for the low gurgling in his throat.

“Do you.. want to talk abou-”

Knell’s fingers wrapped around the doorknob and twisted. The brass mechanism screeched. It could do with some oil.

“At least take your coat, the barometer said it’s going to rain this evening.”

As the door rattled open, a long waxed, leather coat was torn from its moorings on the nearby coat hanger and the tightly-wound vampire was out of sight.

Marion called as the door began to shut of it’s own accord,

“Please take your boots off at the door this time!”

Thunk-chink goes the door and lock.

“I was still shaving when I had this carpet installed, I’ll go batty if he traipses both dirt and mud again.”

[dongtopus]

I've been meaning to ask, I'm very curious about your The Corpse & the Spider fic, does it require knowing Blood Omen 2 and Defiance beforehand to read it? The nightmare of wanting to check out people's cool fanwork but not being caught up with a franchise is real.

This is a very important question, it’s probably the biggest question for those that see my posts about it but haven’t really delved into C&S.

The Corpse and the Spider began as a legacy of kain fic, set in nosgoth during the Vampire Empire era.

Over time it has become its own thing. We’re no longer in Nosgoth, though there are the rules I grew up with that apply to Vampires.

Tl;Dr: You do not need to know anything about the Legacy of kain lore or games. No characters from this series are talked of or take part in C&S

Water is still fatal.

some sunlight exposure is bearable to older vampires, to fledglings it is still fatal.

At the moment I have 4 main locations the story is planned to go:

The Vampire city (Still yet unnamed at the moment. It is presided over by a council, which is presided over by a group of lords, similar to how the UAE joined together.)

The Necropolis, The vampires here are more akin to european folklore vampires, where corpses are possessed. These vampires are not accepted in the Vampire city and are looked upon as lesser beings.

The Human City Cathborough, Humans are at the point in their technology where the industrial revolution started but did not fully take off- Marion will explain more when we go there

Khol, The volcanic mountain in the north, A group of vampires have been working on hollowing out the mountain and harnessing the geothermal power to expand their enclosed, subterranean city. This is where Oyul and Britol, the Engineers come from.

I adore being asked about it, i’ve been working on C&S for two or so years and it’s still taking shape, so any questions usually wind up helping me flesh something out somewhere.

Thanks for the ask!

You can begin Chapter 1 of The Corpse & the Spider Here

[dongtopus]

Vivian stormed up the the pair as they emerged from the Necropolis entry tunnel.

“Where in the hell have you two been!?”

Marion was taken aback, he raised an arm across his chest defensively and shifted his posture away from her.

“We- Knell accompanied me to Cathborough, We left a note-”

Vivian plucked a small scrap of paper between her thumb and forefinger and held it inches from his face.

“This note?!”

The scrap was barely two inches wide and contained the letters W E  G O FO R AY B IT

Marion shot a look to Knell and seethed.

“Matron, At the time, I felt it best that he write the note- it felt improper for me, an outsider of the clan, to leave a note saying I’ve spirited your high surgeon away”

“We go for a bit!?” Vivian repeated the letter

“It’s been Four. Months!”

“My apologies, Matron, i am deeply sorry.”