#has a lot of spirits in the fade moreso than elsewhere

[ustalav]

i do think about which demons would target which oc! both good and bad

muren: rage / valor

grant: rage/sloth / duty

faron: despair/desire / perseverance

gideon: pride / faith

[irkallanprince]

The Blood Feast

A local shopkeep tries to convince a wealthy man to marry off their children and gets more than he bargained for. 

Warnings: Mention of sex, cult activity, slavery, and ritual murder

All Hallows Eve

Wells, Maine; 1858

The March Halloween ball was now a tradition in the town of Wells. Noblemen from all over the state would come just to partake in the yearly harvest festival, decked in their finest fashions for the world to see. It was an event that was written in the papers for miles around, not to be missed. And really, what else was there to do in this day and age except lie in wait for some mysterious disease to take you into the night?

The party was thrown by Josiah March, whose family had immigrated from Ireland two generations ago and brought with them many tales of whimsy. Of the Jack O’Lantern carved into turnips. Of the harrowing tales of the Banshee and mean-spirited fae, and how not respecting these creatures could have affected the harvest for the year. His family believed in the fickleness of these higher beings, and he didn’t fall far from the tree. Though he lived with his only son, Thaddeus.  A man with dark skin and green eyes whose parentage was looked down upon by many of the whitefolk, even if their daughters could not look away from his angelic face. An affair with one of his slaves was the story, though nobody quite knew which. But Josiah was the richest man in town, and the kindest, and a man that took care of his people the way Josiah did deserved some slack. So people were kind to Thaddeus, even if some would call him a ‘negro’ behind his back. Nobody needed to know.

And yet those same two faced people would be the exact people to throw their unwed daughters at the young man who never seemed to show interest. He would always be staring out the window. Staring over the balcony. Staring elsewhere. As if he was longing for a life that wasn’t his own. They tried to convince him to marry their daughters. They would always fail. Something was not right with that boy. And yet his father never cared. He was always laughing and entertaining everyone else. He knew people wanted his fortune. Oddly enough he didn’t care. He seemed to want to provide even.

There were those that would take advantage of this care for the greater good of Wells. Like Barnaby Hampton, owner of the general store. He was never happy with his lot in life. Wife died at childbirth making way for his beautiful sixteen year old daughter Saffron. These days the store wasn’t in the greatest shape. He only came to this party to strike a deal with Josiah. Convince him to marry Thaddeus and Saffron so that his financial struggles would end. He may have been an unlucky man that was barely keeping his head above the water but he was also convincing and charming. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he wasn’t.

His luck just so happened to change tonight. Josiah agreed to meet with him. As the party continued on outside, Josiah ushered him into his office, offering him a seat across his grand cherry oak desk. He sat in front of him with his hands crossed atop the desk as he offered a warm smile to the shopkeep that seemed devoid of any ill intent. He was after all the most charitable man in the state.

“You would do anything for your daughter, wouldn’t you?” Josiah said with a knowing glance. Barnaby just gave a half confused look, then smiled and nodded to play along. He was moreso worried for himself and <i>his</i> own future, but he supposed that included his daughter in a way.

“Y-yes, of course sir.”

“What if I told you that your daughter could grow up to be one of the richest women in the state? Hell, the country?” Josiah raised an eyebrow, a wide smile plastered across his face as if he knew he was about to change this family’s life. Barnaby just leaned forward, nodding his head in excitement. He wanted this. He <i>needed</i> this.

“So you agree? You would sacrifice anything for this?” Josiah continued.

“Yes sir.”

Josiah just smiled and stood before pulling on a light fixture on his wall. The book case behind his desk opened up to a staircase.  

“I always have a more exclusive party the night of All Hallow’s Eve concurrent to the festivities outside. I have some people I’d like you to meet. But first…” He leaned down and offered him a quill, pointing to a dotted line on a document in front of him. Barnaby signed without ever having read it.

“Good. Follow me please.” Josiah grinned, leading the way down a stone spiral staircase that led into a cold, dark tunnel below, lit only by firelight in the sconces on the wall. They walked in the echoing dark for a few moments before they reached a large set of double doors.

“This is going to be the celebration of your life. Prepare yourself.” He smirked before he pressed the doors open.

When they walked into the room, it was the most obscene yet opulent party he’d ever seen. Women in large gowns with masks covering their faces, yet their breasts were exposed as they danced around the floor. Couples performing the lewdest of acts in the dark corners while others laughed and drank wine as they watched. There was a large banquet table with fruit and drink on either side, but a big empty space in the middle.

“Wow. Just in time for the main course?” Barnaby asked. Josiah pat him on the back.

“Precisely.” He grinned. A woman came up to him in a full petticoat with an intricate face mask and cherry lips, breasts bare as the day she was born. She ran a finger down his chubby chest and giggled.

“We don’t often see new faces at these parties. This is exciting.” She grinned from ear to ear, noticing the older man staring at her chest.

“Touch them if you’d like.” She insisted. The shopkeep grew heavy with his breath and nodded, hands coming up and squeezing them like they were two mounds of bread dough. He almost didn’t notice the handkerchief come to his mouth before it was too late.

When he awoke he was laying down. The lights were very dim and nobody was laughing anymore. He looked around through his bleary drug addled eyes and saw dozens of people gathered, standing in a circle around where he lay. But their faces… they were all wearing masks now. Goat masks. Chanting in a language he didn’t understand. And one man in the middle, naked save for the goat mask that was more intricate than all the others with a ceremonial knife of some sort in one hand and an old book in the other.

Barnaby panicked, but he could not move. He was strapped to the table.

“Please! Oh please let me go! This Halloween trick has gone on far enough!” He begged from where he writhed. The naked man turned and his goat head tilted. A voice boomed out. One that he recognized.

“But you said you’d sacrifice anything for your daughter to have a wonderful life. You even signed your soul away to our gods for it.”

“I-I-I thought you meant she’d marry your son! I didn’t think you’d… do whatever this is.”

“The contract is binding. Your soul belongs to the Lords of Irkalla now. Almighty Nergal and Beautiful Ereshkigal. Every year until the sixteenth year of the second millenia, we feast on the blood of man, until our lords can successfully reclaim the Earth to their unholy domain. So it is written.”

“Wh...w-w-what are you talking about? Are you sacrificing me to Satan?”

The crowd laughed uproariously as the main goat-man approached, running a hand along his tubby chin.

“No. Something so much more than he.” Josiah said, as if trying to soothe him in his own way. He leaned down and spoke through the grotesque mouth hole of the now very apparently taxidermied goat head.

“We will keep our promises. Saffron will never want for anything again.” He cooed in a soft voice. Barnaby started to hyperventilate. He went to scream but found somehow he couldn’t. And next the knife went into his chest.

Once. Twice. Three times. Blood started rushing to his mouth as his lungs filled. Four. Five. Six times. The hole in his chest grew. Seven. Eight. Nine. Cracking. Bones cracking. Ten. Eleven. Twelve… Josiah reached in and ripped the heart from his chest, raising his mask so his mouth was visible. He bit into the heart as Barnaby’s vision faded for good.

“Let us commence with the feast.” He said to the room after swallowing the chunk of heart he bit off. The crowd closed in on the table, knives piercing, stabbing, and scraping as blood dripped to the floor.

Another successful Samhain Banquet for the Keepers of Irkalla. 157 more to go until they could serve their lords in person.