Olgavsky Locality, Krasnoyarsk Krai
20/02/2021
This wasn't what Mikhail signed up for.
The purpose of the expedition was clearly explained to him and his partner many times already. They were meant to visit couple of old settlements in Siberia, interview local Karcists about their early history and what they knew of Kalmaktama, then leave with a demystified history of Ion's reign.
Instead, they have been investigating mass graves and scenes of atrocities. The last three villages they visited, which, according to their data, had a total of around 900 inhabitants, were destroyed mere days before their arrival. Their inhabitants have been reduced to ash and burnt flesh, making a mockery of their fight for eternal life. Not a single survivor to be found, be they human or a carnomantic construct. No perpetrator, either.
Mikhail was investigating a long, lightly burnt mass of tissue, limbs and pieces of bone sticking out from its sides. Remnants of decorations were still attached to it, some burned or melted into the fleshy material below. Clearly the work of a family with plenty of children. A tear began to run down his face, when suddenly…
"Hey, come on, this one's different!"
Volodymyr gestured for him to come over. There was a corpse at the edge of the village, still recognizable, unlike the rest of the cadavers. It was partially covered by a mound of snow, melted into ice by the heat of whatever caused this, and dressed in military uniform. The two looked at each other in confusion. Why would the army declare war on them?
"No, there's no way…" Mikhail said, making an attempt at pulling the corpse out. It required much more force than his muscles had, the ice having stuck it to the ground. As Volya gave it a firm tug, however, it would detach right away.
The corpse lacked any identification. The uniform didn't belong to any army the two of them knew of, either. They knew it didn't belong to an American, those usually carried their dog tags along with them. It did, however, have a curious blue armband on its sleeve. That, in addition to a patch showing a blue pentagram surrounded by wreaths of an unknown crop, was enough to identify it.
The two looked at each other in shock. Both of them knew what this meant.
Nälkä For A New Millenium HQ, Saint Petersburg
28/02/2021
"I have to say, this is… Very troubling news, Mr. Kurdin. I assume you have evidence of what you have told me over the phone," Karcist Hill said, gesturing for Mikhail to sit down. The office smelled of freshly brewed coffee and printing ink
"Of course, it's here. I will warn you, the images are very drastic." He wished that Volodymyr was with him right now.
He knew that the proposal he wanted to make had very little chance of being accepted by The Council. Something like this would require a unanimous vote, which was almost impossible with how much of a risk it was. At the very least, he wouldn't return to Volya without having even tried.
"I see," The Karcist sighed. "I have to say, my heart breaks seeing this happen to fellow Nälkä, and the fact that all clues point towards the GOC being responsible fills me with great worry for our future. I'll discuss scaling down our operations with The Council. Don't want to make ourselves a target, after all."
"I… Mr. Hill, I feel that you still underestimate this situation. This wasn't an isolated incident; these were three settlements, divorced from each other by 100 kilometers of taiga and destroyed… seemingly at the same time. Between this and the disappearance of Comrade Abdullayev, I am worried we might not be just "at risk". They're going for the Old Bloods first, then us, then only the big groups are left."
The mention of Abdullayev made the Karcist pause. It's true that neither of them had heard from that man ever since he proposed meeting with a GOC representative. Of course, the proposal was voted against by the council, 4 to 1. He was a stubborn man, and Hill was worried he might have attempted it either way. If that were the case, that would mean the GOC knew about them, as well as Nälkä in general. In that case, there was only a single sensible option. One that he wasn't ready to accept.
"Are you suggesting we disband? Just abandon our decades of research of the immortal science of Ion because the bookburners might launch a drone attack against us?"
"No, I am not. My proposal is… You could say it's less pragmatic than that."
"It's still a rough draft, but I believe the council may want to take a look at this during Thursday's meeting. I sincerely believe this is the only way forward."
Nälkä For A New Millenium HQ, Saint Petersburg
4 days later
"Karcist Hill, this proposal is… Frankly ridiculous, if I am to say so myself. Is it true that Kurdin wrote it? I'm afraid we may have to-" Schmitt was cut off by Akhmetov as she was about to finish.
"No, Volutaar, we won't have another Nardovitch. We have learned that lesson a long time ago. I would also ask you to show some respect for a fellow member of our organization. But yes, Mr. Hill. I would ask you to explain what led you to entertain such an…unorthodox plan."
Hill sighed and took a sip of water. He needed to search for an answer. He himself wasn't fully on board with Mikhail's scheme, but it did seem like the only feasible way to prevent themselves and others from destruction.
"Clearly, the time of silently stacking papers and low-level research is long past us. We are among the few Nälkä who are capable of reaching out to our broader community without having to worry as much about the logistics of such an undertaking, nor lack of knowledge of other like-minded groups."
The Volutaar gave him a confused expression before speaking up. "I am sorry, Karcist. But we do have to worry about logistics. Sure, our carnomantic modifications allow us to travel across large distances with little regard, but getting so many people together on a bi-monthly basis is not something we are capable of. Not to mention, we would never be able to make the old bloods and our modernized members get along."
"Oh, that's nonsense. We're all following the philosophy laid down by the ancient Adytites, do we not?" Karcist Koskinen chimed in.
"Please, let's all slow down. Yes, I have my reservations about this too. And Volutaar Schmitt brought up a good point! It will be a great challenge to our organization, and some of the finer details of this plan desperately need a rework. It's clear it was written under immense stress and pressure. And on this topic…" He cleared his throat.
"This was a piece of paper attached by Mikhail Kurdin himself, together with this proposal. I will now read it in full."
"One could be forgiven for thinking that lying low would be the best option in our situation. To go underground, space out our meetings, reduce our research until the storm has passed. This argument, however, makes two assumptions. First is that the GOC is going against those who have stuck their head out. This isn't true. Our brothers up north, the anartists of Germany and many Mekhanite sects are proof that this isn't the case. The Global Occult Coalition will not accept anyone who doesn't fall under their grasp, even if they are neutral and not an active foe. Second is that this storm will pass. It won't. The fascists of history have a clear track record of not stopping their repressions and genocides when no one acts to stop them. Eventually, there could be no Nälkä left but us. Who's going to defend us then?"
Silence.
A vote began soon after the speech, each participant taking an unusually long amount of time to decide. Soon, however, each member had made their choice. 5 to 0, the proposal had passed.
"BLYAT! I'M SORRY!"
Volodymyr jumped back as the tentacle slammed down in front of him with enough force to make the ground shake. A second after narrowly escaping death, a pitchfork stabbed into the ground just inches away from his torso. He scrambled to his feet and took a step back
"I didn't mean to disturb you, I'm sorry. For God's sake, I'm here to-"
"Charlatan! God-fearer! Stay away! This is our holy place!" The villager yelled at him. He was dressed in stitched-together robes, while his face was covered in pustules and scars. Despite this sorry state, however, he was visibly muscular.
"Listen to me, I am here to speak with your Karcist! Karcist Alka, she's here, yes?"
And just like that, the expression on the villager's face turned from anger to puzzlement. The tentacles ceased flailing and slowly receded back into the ground.
"Who are you, weird man?"
"A follower of Ion, who else?" He said, forcing a casual smile. He opened his arms, showing he wasn't armed nor had any technology on him. At this, the villager turned around and yelled something to the rest of the settlement. Volya couldn't catch it, his Adytite was rather rusty. He saw the door of the nearest house open, locals emerging and slowly making their way over to him.
He was led first towards the church of the settlement. A small, wooden structure stripped of all Christian symbolism. A group of locals sat at a table on the inside. Volya waved at them, as they all looked up from the plates in front of them and at the young man. He could recognize the type of meat they were consuming, which made him shiver in slight disgust. He couldn't imagine eating raw human flesh like that. You're supposed to fry it, or at least cook it over a fire!
The villagers escorted him as they descended to the crypt of the church and down a staircase, to a tunnel, where worked stone gave way to earth. At its end, the stench of ammonia and blood wafted at him from a dark chasm, a rope leading below. His fist clutched a watch locket in his pocket, containing a photo of him and his boyfriend. When he and the others sat foot below, their boots splashed heavily against the organic admixture. Only then did he pick up the smell of cerebrospinal fluid. For all intents and purposes, he could be led into the mouth of a hungry Kiraak.
His fears would be put to rest as they finally reached a larger opening. On the other end of the cave was no one else but Karcist Alka herself, with her thousand wings and thousand hands, extending in all directions from her bare body. Countless fleshy tendrils extended from her, covering the exposed rocks and roots all around them. Volya gasped, never having seen something quite like this. He saw many Karcists in a variety of bodies, but none of these…they were expansive, complex, clearly having taken centuries (if not millennia) to grow into such a form. One could even call her perfect.
"Who are you to disturb our work?" He snapped back to reality as he heard the voice of a thousand larynges, coming from all across the cave. He shook his head and knelt before her.
"Oh, thank you for this meeting, Karcist. I come from a group that follows the word of Ion, just like you and your people. I'm not here to disturb you, I am actually-"
"I see. Not a heathen, but a glutton, right? I assure you, we have no place for those who dare twist the word of the-"
"-Ozi̮rmok"
Alka looked at him with all the sets of her eyes, her gaze scanning his expression while her carnomantic powers reached into his DNA. She knew he wasn't of Nälkä blood, that much was obvious, but a glutton or a heathen would know not of that title of Ion. Her speaking orifices opened once more.
"Talk. Who sent you, and why?"
"I am from… Nälkä for a New Millenium. We're not descendants of the ancient Adytites, but we continue their teachings and practices. There are countless groups like us… And like you as well! Just in case you didn't know already…" He said, pausing until he saw one of the faces of Alka slowly move up and down. A nervous smile was plastered across his face. He knew he needed to be careful. The Swiss army knife in his right pocket wasn't the greatest self-defense tool in this situation. Taking the expression as a nod of confirmation, Volya continued, "We find ourselves in conflict with the enemies of life again. Ones that would rather kill us all than let our teachings remain."
"The Mekhanites! They seek to destroy us again? Of course, we will send them back into the mouth of the Devourer again! As the Karcist said that, the ground would begin to shake, her thousands of wings and limbs all stirring as if ready to fight.
"…no, the Mekhanites are all dead, fortunately. But we have a new foe, one whose army is present across the world and has already killed a thousand of us. Because of this, we seek to establish…cooperation between our people. So we aren't led to the slaughter."
Her movements ceased as he further explained, before all the eyes of her form turned towards him. Her form slowly detached from the wall, taking a step towards him. Volya would rise to his feet and face her. After a couple more seconds of silence, her mouths spoke again.
"I want to know more. Let's talk."
Plaquemines Swamp, Louisiana
05/04/2021
The sound of the celebrations outside faded out as Mikhail was led into the communal home. It was large, filled to the brim with belongings and furniture, clearly housing more people than it was designed to. He was a little worried, looking down at the decaying wooden floor and thinking of the swamp below them.
"I have to thank all of you for agreeing to speak to me. If I may, why here and not the Macabre Street? I know two of your families have their place of residence there."
"Oh, we wish we could have stayed in La Rue. Your letters have disturbed us greatly, so we decided to relocate here until we can be sure it is safe out there. Our presence could doom La Rue, just as any infiltrators in La Rue could doom us." Enu Duvernay shook her head at that last part, with a very worried expression across her face.
"Yes, seeing how worried my wife was, I figured that celebrating Nsämanf'tsatsa with the Natau's this year is a better idea. It's not that drastic, we will be going back after tomorrow to take care of our elders. However, we are likely staying the next few nights here. Thank you again, Manma, for allowing us to sleep here." Karcist Enitan turned to the sickly looking, thin woman with a large tumorous growth on her neck. She gave him a weak smile and nod, before the trio's gaze returned to Mikhail.
"I understand. It's probably a smart decision. I wouldn't want to assume anything, of course, but does this mean you have also considered the latter part of my letter?"
"Oh, I think we should sit down for this. Would you like some tea, Mr. Kurdin?" Manma Nutaa said, which led to a swift confirmation from Mikhail. She poured a drink for all four of them, a kind of mixture of local swamp plants and mushrooms.
"Yes, and I have to say, our families are more than willing to join this alliance that you've proposed. We just want to go over some specifics first," Enitan said after taking a sip of the tea, clearly used to its taste. The same couldn't be said for Mikhail, as he recoiled for a moment after it touched his tongue. He was used to much less intense flavors when it comes to tea. Swamp fungus was certainly an acquired taste.
"…Ugh, huy… Uh, sorry, can I have some sugar? And right, of course"
"How is this going to work? You talk about an international alliance, but how are we going to coordinate it?" The Karcist asked, before Manma added, "Sorry, honey. We don't sweeten our food here…but yes, it takes a day to walk to La Rue from here. We don't own cars or motorboats or such. How are we supposed to reach Europe or Asia now?"
"Well, we are still working on it, but I can assure you there won't be much travelling involved. Our initial idea involved digital conferences, but the beliefs and locations of some of our kin don't allow for that. I can see there's not much electricity here, either. We were thankfully able to find records of a Solomonari ritual that allows for a connection between two Kiraaks, even from across the world, to be established. It's expensive and difficult to perform, but it is our best bet. I take it the creation of such creatures isn't a foreign concept here?"
That question resulted in a warm smile from Manma Nutaa, followed by her looking out the window. Right outside stood a large structure, propped up by a series of wooden planks, bones, and trees. The outside was made of a brown, leathery material.
"I see, that makes sense," Enu confirmed, before taking a single sip and continuing, "The Lodge would be more than willing to share our resources for such a cause, in that case. My husband and I have a single thing that still concerns us about this endeavor, though. What kind of an alliance is this going to be? Do we want to unite the faith, take revenge on the Coalition, keep our existence secret or…?"
That was a good question. Mikhail didn't plan much in that direction. While drafting the first proposal, he supposed it would be best left in the hands of the new organization to decide the direction of the alliance. He forced another sip of the tea out of politeness, trying not to grimace this time as the sour and bitter taste touched his tongue, then finally spoke.
"That's an interesting question. We are still waiting for other communities to respond before can definitely say what kind of work we will engage in, but the association I am representing does have some plans we could share…
Belleau Wood, France
12/05/2021
Volya stared at the pack of hungry wolves as they slowly circled around him. He raised his hands in surrender, even waving a piece of white cloth in his hand. It didn't help, however. He could hear whispers around him. "Weak", "invader", "jealous". They spoke words he didn't know the context of. Finally, all but one of them stopped. An older one, with a scar across its face and a visibly mangled maw, took to its hind legs and stepped towards him.
"Oh dilly, a fresh piece of flesh. Come into our camp, try to conquer what's ours, and now you surrender? Oh, you will be a great feast, coward." The creature scooted closer towards him, its warm and foul breath making him almost recoil. He stood his ground, however, and kept eye contact.
"Oh, I assure you. Neither am I an invader, nor a coward. I heard of your battalion, of how you massacred those krau-"
"We're not a battalion! We're an army, a pack. There's no one above us!"
The wolf grabbed Volya by the shoulder and shoved him against a tree, its claws digging into his shoulder. It felt Volodymyr's flesh mend just as it pierced it, though the claws dug into it prevented it from fully healing. It sniffed him a couple of times, moving its maw even closer.
"Oh, a Russian. Sent by Kovlenko, are you?"
The wolf pulled its head back, opened its maw and was ready to launch forward to tear Volya's throat to pieces. Before it could, however, it felt a piercing pain in its chest. A Swiss army knife, stabbed perfectly between it ribs. The creature recoiled and dropped the man, who was, surprisingly, not attacked by the other pack members. They just watched as he fell on the ground with a loud groan. He had no time to react as the creature bit through his leg. Its deformed maw prevented it from tearing his foot right off, but it still very much mangled it as it began to pull on it.
"Pizdyet! I'm here to help you, Bryan! I'm a Nälkä!"
He said as he kicked it across the face, making it let go. Just as he attempted to get up, he saw it take a step back and prepare to launch itself forward. With a quick roll to the side, the canine creature would miss him, instead directly impacting a tree behind him. It growled in pain, then looked at him.
"A man of the Karcist? Don't make me laugh, Orok would tear you apart for-"
Voldymyr knocked them right to the ground with a swift punch, the thick skin and bones of his hand catching the creature by surprise. He jumped on top of it, pulling the multi-tool from its body and pressing it to its throat. The other members of the pack stirred, some growling at him as he held their leader below him, others recoiling in fear. The one under him, however, just smiled.
"Oh, there's your will to fight…"
"Is this enough for you, Richards?" Volya growled, in pain and fed up. As he said that, the wolf gestured something to the rest of the pack, began to howl in response. He had no idea what this meant, but considering they hadn't all pounced and torn him to pieces yet, he tried not to think of the worst scenario. Soon enough, they began to recede back into the forest. He looked back down at the creature that once was Lieutenant Richards.
"I like you, Russian…"
Budapest, Hungary
27/06/2021
Mikhail sat across the table from József Vörös, the current leading Karcist of the Esoteric Order of the White Worm, as well as the husband of the current CEO of the international conglomerate known as the "Abraxas Group." He felt far from happy about this current situation. These people made weapons of warfare which were used against the innocents, preached the word of the Grand Karcist while putting profit before it. Worst of all, they weren't even willing to share their research with his organization!
He was, however, able to convince The Order to join the new alliance. The negotiations went awfully smoothly, surprisingly enough. József agreed to lend his member's carnomantic and thaumaturgic abilities for the cause, and provide them with a body of Solomonari ritual texts which he hadn't even heard of.
"It was a real pleasure, Mr. Vörös. Thank you again, your people will be an important asset to this coalition. Besides, the grilled flesh was great. May I ask where you harvested it?"
"I could say the same, Mikhail," The unnaturally young-looking, red-haired man in front of him nodded his head. He laid down his cutlery and gestured for the waiter to give them the bill. "Oh, straight from the Èletfa, of course. I have to say, I'm surprised the Ivády's don't consume their fruit more often. It has so much… Flavor to it!"
"On that topic, I am worried I will have to make my exit soon. I have a meeting arranged with one of their Táltos for this evening." Despite how much he enjoyed the taste, he could not quite bring himself to believe the promise of his 'associate'. The Èlefta was slow. There were faster, cheaper sources.
"Oh, I understand. I had one question, though. Is there any chance that Abraxas could receive a seat in this alliance? I am sure their technology would be of great use."
"Pardon?" Mikhail clutched his now-empty wine glass. His expression briefly changed to one of disgust, before it went back to a neutral one. "I am sorry but, what? I thought we already agreed to share our resources-"
"Listen, Kurdin. I know our organizations have had a very… Troubled past. I assure you, the Abraxas Group has improved greatly since then. The Esoteric Order is now the primary sponsor of the Group, and we have worked hard to straighten out our past mistakes."
"…so I see no reason why Abraxas couldn't be represented by the Order's seat, in this case." Mikhail laid down his glass and took a deep breath before looking back up at József.
"Well, I understand your reasoning, but we still recruit from various sources, and our workforce remains spread across denominations. I just think it would make the most sense if my wife were to receive a seat in the alliance to represent the interests of our company, separate from the interests of The Order. Besides, I am worried that if our workers and managers don't receive their representation, we can't, in good conscience, lend their products to the alliance. You did mention the need to produce multiple Kiraaks of Many Maws in order to establish a headquarters for our coalition, right? I am afraid that the only association I know that could provide the resources for that would be…"
"I see"
Mikhail was filled with rage. He should have expected this. You offer the capitalists a hand, they ask for your arm. And the worst part was that he couldn't refuse now. And so, he could only weakly nod in confirmation and extend his hand.
"Of course, and thank you for lending your help, Mr. Vörös. I am looking forward to our future cooperation."
Outskirts of Saint Petersburg, Russia
04/10/2021
The two sat down at the bank of Neva, overlooking the yellow-coloured forest on the other side. Not a single soul in sight, aside from the two of them. Volya wrapped a hand around Mikhail, whose head rested on his shoulder. 7 months, It's been 7 months since the two had an opportunity to sit down together, talk together, be together. At last.
"Ahhh, Volya, I told you to shave…"
The taller man just shook his head in response and kissed his cheek, making sure his lover felt as much of his rough beard as he could. The two laughed together for a good minute or so, remaining in the embrace. Up until…
"Good evening, gentlemen!"
Both of them recoiled as an older man, wearing a green vest and carrying a fishing rod walked out of the bushes behind them. He laid down a backpack near them, then sat on a log. He looked at the couple from the side.
"Oh, you two can continue. Don't mind me."
A lot of thoughts raced through their minds. They were in the middle of the woods, so he couldn't be just a random old man, could he? The alternative was, naturally, that he was a GOC agent who spied on them, and that a full squad of soldiers had already trained their sights on the couple's backs. As he raised his hand, however, those worried would swiftly leave their heads. They recognised his tattoos. Maybe not by meaning, but by their shape.
"Oh, come on, you act as if you saw a god. I just wanted to say that I am impressed. It's a great work you two are doing, after all." He stabbed his hook into the worm before pulling back the rod and swinging it towards the river. A smile was visible past his thick, white facial hair.
"Oh… Thank you, I suppose…" Mikhail said, a long breath of relief leaving his lips soon after. Volya held in a giggle, then wordlessly offered the old man a cigarette. He gestured with his hand in denial.
"I would rather keep this body healthy. I have grown a liking to it." He said, looking off in the distance. A brief struggle erupted as a fish latched onto the hook. Despite some fierce fighting, however, he was unable to overcome the creature. And so, he reached into a pack of worms and prepared the next bait. "This alliance you two have founded, what is it called? I have heard of it from so many people, but I've never gotten anything more than "The Alliance" or "The Coalition". I would say that name is a little too close to that of our enemies."
"I suppose…we haven't really thought that much about it. Neither me, nor Mikhail had much time to chisel out the details. It was a hectic year, you know?"
"I see." He shook his head, taking on a more serious expression, and swung the rod again. "I say something simple, but recognizable. And something none of our denominations would find an issue with."
A silence overcame the trio. Neither Volodymyr, Mikhail, nor the old man said anything, even as another struggle unfolded between the grandpa-like figure and an amphibious organism. Finally, just as a perch was pulled out of the water and onto the land, Mikhail spoke up.
"Pan-Nälkä Congress?"
"Yeah, sounds alright," His lover and the man answered in unison, one a little more exhausted than the other. Finally, Volya looked over to the stranger who had just finished extinguishing the life of his prey, with but a single touch.
"I am sorry, but what is your name, even?"
And to that, he smiled and looked the two in the eyes. Packing the fish into a bag, he got the rod ready for another catch. Just as he was about to throw it again, he spoke.