It is early morning in the city of Serpent’s Snag and a low hanging fog rests over the cobblestone streets and dirt roads that wind throughout the various districts. The city is bustling, as it normally is, as people rush to their jobs, shops, or whatever other plans they have for the day. Closed signs are flipped to open and people begin to clock into the various factories; sending plumes of smoke into the gray, dawn sky. Horses, carriages, and the tapping of boots across the ground indicated the start of another bright and lively day within the city.

Now a city this large comes with a great deal of trouble that runs from the bottom all the way to the top. Each district of the city controlled by the upper echelons of society.

The well known Blackwood family headed by one Caspian Blackwood-a steel tycoon with ties to the deeper underbellies of the city itself, but no one truly knows how many strings he pulls throughout the city, and there are those that seek to break the iron fisted grip the family, and it's underlings, have on the city.

Oil tycoon and incredibly successful businessman Samuel Fissure runs the Silver Side. He is tangled in a seemingly never ending war with the Blackwoods for land and industry. Some are concerned that the families may tear the city apart at the seams.

The Nightwell family, headed by William Nightwell, are a bit more down to earth and run any business that none of the others have any interest in. Brewing and construction are the main things that keep them tied to the hustle and bustle of the city, as well as solid connection to Windstad Farms. Controlling several notable spots in the city within their territory makes them unexpectedly powerful.

The mysterious and powerful Adelaide Kane who is known as a beacon of light to lost souls, seeking the broken and "fixing them" within the Sinner's Den despite the laws best efforts. A notable madame and disarmingly charming, many don't remember the time they spend within her grasp.

The City Center, looked after by Arthur Fissure-the lesser known brother of Samuel Fissure-who runs the best known bar and inn in the city. An amiable and honest man, he's probably the most trusted by the other families and the more regular residents of Serpent's Snag.

Finally, there’s the Shanty Town. Not one of the named ones near the entrances to the city, but rather hidden on the outside of the North District walls. Only those brave, stupid, or desperate enough even think about going into the ramshackle and rundown buildings. This part of the city is controlled by no one, save for the spirits that reside there.

This leads us to the start of the story for many of the residents of the city.




Standing in the back room of Sheriff Swinghammer's office is, of course, the broad and mustached form of the Sheriff; his spurs clinking with every step he takes across the cramped space behind his desk. The old wooden floors of the office creaked and complained with every step that crossed them, and the dusty, and faintly tattered American flag that hung from two hooks on the wall waved ever so slightly in the breeze that blew in from the open window. The thick wooden desk rested in between him and the other occupant of the room.

"We gotta problem on our hands Viernes," he pauses a moment to glance at the thick coat and gleaming eyes of his Deputy, "Either some kinda crazed animal or someone is feelin' mighty bold attackin' residents each and every night." His face twisted into a faint scowl, not directed at any one thing in the room, but seemingly just the very situation itself.

The Sheriff continues his rounds of pacing, one hand brushing against his sun scorched chin and the other twirling his signature colt around a finger. "You've been real good at solving these kinds of...situations before," he holsters his gun and pulls out a map of the city, laying it across the desk before pinning it down and pointing out several locations, "Attacks have been in the Night District nearby the Sanatorium and are creepin' around into the Silver Side." He peers at Viernes from under the brim of his hat, "Think you can handle that?"



A tall and pale figure leaned up against the wall of Jean's carpentry shop, "You hear about the attacks goin' on around the Sanatorium," a fanged grin creeping across the face of Oliver Nightwell, the usual liaison between the Frenchman and the family that ran the district. His pale eyes tracking the movement of his conversational partner around the interior of the room, "Heard it might be a feral wolf from outside of town, or maybe even one of our own from around the city."

He pushed himself from the wall and tucked his hands into the pockets of the waistcoat he wore, his stance appeared completely casual but as always there was intent to every single movement he made, "The law might come snooping around. Better watch yourself." He raised a hand from his pocket it check a bronzed pocket watch that hung from a chain attached to one of the many polished buttons, before he let out a hum and placed the watch back in its home.

The vampire turned towards the door to the establishment, pushing open the door to the early morning, allowing the sounds of carriages, horses, and chatter to enter the building. "Oh, nearly forgot," he turned on his heel back towards Jean, allowing the door to swing shut once more, "Boss wants you to come to the usual meetup spot at The Hill. He's got a bit of a proposition for ya. The predatory glint to the vampire's eyes might've been faintly disturbing to someone who hadn't spent much time around them, but it was difficult to tell the intent behind this request.



The halls of the Silver Birch Sanatorium were mostly quiet despite the nature of the inhabitants of the place. Given the early hour it was likely that many of the residents just hadn't woken up yet, or they were perhaps just biding their time carefully. The thick walls, tipped with sharp metal spires and barbed wire, surrounding the building kept the residents of the city safe from those who would do them harm. The open, green lawn that lead up to the brickwork structure was kept carefully maintained by several of the people who resided within the Sanatorium. As Sister Catrina entered for the day a younger woman dressed in similar garb came running towards her.

"Sister! Sister Catrina!" she called out as she rushed forward, concern deep on her youthful face. This young woman had deep blue eyes and thick black hair; she has only been working at the Sanatorium for a short time, but has quickly grown to respect the matronly Sister as a beacon of hope for so many of the lost souls of the city.

As she came to a stop and caught her breath she looked up and said quickly, "I heard that someone has been attacking people around here," she sucked in a sharp breath, "What should we do?" She wrung her hands together nervously. She knew that the work that they did here wasn't exactly the most respected, and that many people would likely just have their inhabitants hanged or put to death in some other way. She dearly hoped that they would be able to find out who was responsible before things got much too far out of hand.



The ramshackle buildings and roads of the Shanty Town were much quieter than the city proper. The ghostly residents preferring to keep to themselves during the daylight hours and peruse the city at night. However, the beggars, freed slaves, and others who were viewed as degenerates by the major cities wandered the streets in silent contemplation, not generally concerned with their spectral neighbors. The only spot of any rush was nearby Early's Inn and Eatery where a few people headed to see what food they could get from the place.

Nearby where Barnaby drifted unseen, two ratty clothed beggars spoke to each other in low tones. One with wrinkled dark skin and black hair speckled with white, and the other a younger man with a twisted leg and cane.

"Saw some fancy bastard makin' his way into the city late at night," the older man grumbled, "Nice long coat, golden watch, shiny shoes," he scoffed, "Everything any of us could ever dream of havin'."

The younger man frowned, "Why's that mean anything to us? People come into the city to meet with the Mayor, the Blackwoods, and a whole mess of other people all the time," he tapped the cane that he held, which was more of just a whittled tree branch, against the ground, "Think there was something special about him?"

The older man chuckled, but there was no humor to it, "Dunno. Something just felt weird about him; like he's been around too long, seen too much. A lot like those Blackwood or Nightwell fellers. Heard he was headed to The House. Gotta have a lot of money to go there." He stood and dusted off his pants, not that it made much of a difference.

As the other man stood and they made their way down the dusted streets their discussion stuck with Barnaby. It prickled a familiar rage deep inside and he couldn't help but think that the man he'd waited for all these years may have finally come back around to the city.



The inside of The House of Earthly Delights was just as beautiful as ever. The rich paintings and decor seeming to warm the interior all on their own and providing a calm and pleasant atmosphere. The early mornings usually weren't too busy, as those who had the money, or particular tastes, preferred to come in the evening or night. However, there was a small collection of people, mostly travelers, who had come to find themselves enjoying the comforts the Saloon provided.

One such person was a well built man whose pale skin contrasted sharply with the rich, black clothing that he wore. Neatly pressed suit, perfectly shined shoes, and a wicked, fanged smile made him a fairly common site within the Saloon, but this man was not one of their usual clients. A slight roughness to his near flawless skin, made it obvious that this was new money, made in likely less than legal ways.

He leaned comfortably against the back of a chair where another traveler sat, "Ever hear of a woman named Rose Everly?" he inquired, "I've been looking for her for quite some time." His voice was smooth, an attempt at the more proper tones the upper class took on, but the other traveler shook his head, "You're sure? A dear friend of mine died before he could tell her goodbye and I was hoping to pass on the message."

Madame Zubova, who could hear most things that went on around her establishment, easily heard this ongoing conversation, and information happened to be one of her specialties.



Each district of the city was fascinating in an entirely unique way. The stories of each person in the shanty towns, the histories the older residents of the city could recount, and many other intertwining tales that branched around each and every person. It was a unique location; bizarre and faintly unnerving at times, all the while the sun shone down burning away the morning mists.

The mornings in the City Center tended to be the busiest, as the sort of cultural hub and safe haven. The Seven Markets, Raven's Rook Tavern, Sheriff's Office, and several other locations all handling workers and customers as Oswald observed the waking of the city. There were plenty of locations that held their own history just waiting to be uncovered.

He'd heard a fair amount about the different types of people that lived in each district. It wasn't difficult to get people to talk about the heads of the district and what opinions they had about them. Some hushed and whispered with vitriol and others noticeably complimentary. It was a curious dichotomy that left more questions than answers about what types of people, or otherwise, strolled about with little problem.

The movement around him left plenty of chances to learn more about the people and places that called the city of Serpent's Snag home, now it was just a matter of figuring out which thread to explore first.

Fall, 1768

"Control your breathing," came the whisper from behind. Barnaby looked on at the mark with intense concentration. The target was a middle aged man browsing the farmer's market, currently trying to size up a pair of apples before making his selection. "You have to move quickly and silently. You've got to stop being a man and become one with the breeze." Barnaby looked back to see his mentor, Draven, staring intently upon the mark as a lion would look upon an antelope.

The advice nearly gave Barnaby a chuckle. He did't typically make it a point to associate with vampires, but Draven was the enemy of his enemy and so their mutual objectives created a kinship. While Barnaby was relatively new to life on the streets, Draven was rich with experience and lessons on how to survive.

"He's going to feel my hand," Barnaby said quietly.

"Then make him feel something else, first. No one pays any mind to hands being clapped to the left when there is an explosion to the right. Create your explosion before you make your move."

His words were soft and velvet and the advice was sound. If he was going to pick this pocket and snatch the money within, he was going to have to mask his move with a larger move. For a moment, he thanked his lucky stars that Draven had found him and taken him under his wing. Despite being a vampire, Draven was the best friend Barnaby could ever hope for.

Present Day, 1875

"I will render that blood sucking bastard headless!" Barnaby shouted into the ether as he looked upon the gossiping beggars. A fancy, dolled up enigma who seemed to have all the time in the world to acquire his fortune? The specter reckoned he knew who might fit that description. "I will watch and laugh with utmost satisfaction as that parasitic monster experiences the life slowly drain from his nigh immortal husk." The more he spoke, the louder he projected but the beggars seemed unphased by his outburst. It had become quite obvious that they couldn't see nor hear the ghost.

Barnaby took a beat and tried to recall his senses. He must be calm and collected to take on a clever devil like Draven. His mind must be clear and calculating. Out of habit, as opposed to necessity, Barbaby took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Finally, when his calm seemed to return, he inquired further.

"This House. My days have been long and my memory's a bit more difficult to maintain than it once was. Remind me, where is The House." His question was met with indifference. In fact, the beggars seemed to not react at all. Barnaby gritted his teeth. He knew this meant they would be of no help. He would have to rediscover The House himself. "FINE!" He shouted, but this time his voice had a little something extra behind it. Like a noble in a carriage, his words rode on the back of a powerful fury that created a ripple in the ether. That ripple touched both the realms of the living and the dead, sending a small spontaneous gust of arctic breeze into the air around which Barbaby stood. The beggars paused and acknowledged the incident, but the anomaly was subtle enough that they soon brushed it off and went about their morning.

It was no matter. Pieces of memory about The House of Earthly Delights was slowly starting to repopulate his mind. He was even beginning to remember how to get there from Shanty Town. The more he concentrated, the more he recalled and the angrier he got. He could take pleasure in one thing, though: It was time. He would have his revenge. Barbaby would paint the streets with the vile leech's blood.

---

In the heart of the Night District rests a man in an ill-prepared, lidless casket yet he himself is neither ill, dying, dead nor undead. This makeshift box filled with hay and a solitary cloth sheet wasn’t fit for anyone’s eternal rest and the local carpenter knew that. So why was he sleeping in his latest craftwork?

If he were to receive a visitor during the witching hours, he definitely did not want to be deep asleep in comfort. Jean Charpentier was no fool. Something strange (well, stranger than usual) was moving about late at night for the past few moons. He knew how the folks of the Night District traversed and they definitely didn’t sound like a four-legged beast in heat, slobbering and howling at odd intervals. This noise has kept him up with at least one eye opened at all times. However, as the sun rises obscured by heavy haze over Serpent’s Snag, Jean has no choice but to endure the next business day with what little sleep he has afforded for himself. His own casket will have to wait until he’ll need it again.

It wasn’t every day he’d get to sell his woodwork but you can bet that there’d be some oddball bothering him during all store hours. Seems today wouldn’t be any different as ol’ Oliver Nightwell made his sly presence known by informing Jean about what was keeping him up at night and what will be keeping him alert during the day. Wolves aren’t ones to be trifled with but law enforcement are a different kind of predator – more vicious and able to play with their food before going for the kill. Lawmen from all over have been the bane to the Frenchman for the majority of his life, stemming back from his memories as a child to a peasant class couple all the way to just before arriving in Serpent’s Snag. Needless to say, he wasn’t their biggest fan and he suspected Oliver told him this to rile him up. The carpenter had tried his best not to give him the satisfaction of getting under his skin by remaining inexpressive during their… conversation.

Though Oliver was about to leave, the last part of his message was definitely cause for alarm. A slight twitch on Jean’s mouth could be visibly seen before uttering “Thank you. Good bye.” to the visiting vampire. While Jean had planned to keep a low profile for the rest of the day, the latest addendum to his agenda would make that virtually impossible. A known convicted runaway who had trouble with the law is surely going to be stopped and frisked, right? But surely his time as a law-abiding citizen in this town is enough to clear his slate. Surely, they’d leave him alone this time, right?

These thoughts would ring in his head as he proceeded to pack his derringer in his inner breast pocket and travel to their arranged meeting location. Anything hungry for his flesh was going to get a side of lead served with it.

Oswald Krate

Oswald watched as the carriage he arrived in leave.
He then picked up his luggage and walked into a small, but comfortable looking hotel, on the main northern road of the North District, called the "Woodward Hotel".
"Afternoon sir." Oswald greeted the man at the desk. On the inside, the hotel was quite comfortable, although still somewhat rugged.
"Do you happen to have a room for one?" he asked the man. The man in turn barely spoke a word. He looked at his ledger, reached below the desk and pulled out a key with the room number embossed on it.
"Thank you my good sir." Oswald simply said with a curtious nod. A man of few words it seems. he thought.

His room was rather decently sized, despite the size of the hotel itself. He soon made himself comfortable, as he unpacked, and readied his gear so that he could begin work on his research.

Looking out the window, Oswald remembered the snippets of information he'd obtained from the few folk whom came here.
The city was apparently influenced by rival gangs, and there were also sightings of strange beasts and wandering spirits.
But he had heard similar stories from the other locations he'd previously visited before, and they turned out to be nothing but stories. And so he was expecting the same here.

He straigthened and readied himself, and then left the hotel to begin. Oswald took his time wandering the streets, and took in the sites. Whether it be the citizens going about their business, or the various shops or buildings he'd pass along the way. Every now and then, he would stop and make a note or two.

Two hours later, Oswald obtained some information about trying the shanty towns if he wanted to learn some "real" history, as ghosts were alledgedly common there. Another fad no doubt, but he would entertain the idea anyway.
The town apparently had its own museum, though it was rather small, and lacked anything worth noting.

Next he made his way toward the city center, and visited the Seven Markets, noting the variety of its stalls, and the mixture of cultures found amongst them.
He was impressed by the spread, especially given how obscure the city itself was.
Wiping his brow with a sleeve, the heat starting to bother him, so Oswald found the closest place he could find to get a drink, "The House of Earthly Delights." Clearly an adult entertainment parlour. As long as they provide some comfort out of this weather, I do not care what it is. he thought to himself, and quickly made his way there.

Nala blinked herself awake. She took a few deep breaths and sat up from the wooden cot and bundle of linen she had been asleep on.Where am I..? she thought, looking around. The room was dark, she couldn't tell if it was early morning or late night. To her right was a single window with a metal grate on the inside, on the opposite side she saw a door with it's own metal grate but no glass window, and then across the room from her cot she saw a bucket which she assumed was for toileting. She turned her head and blew a bloody gob of snot into the empty corner. "EEYEACKGH!!" she exclaimed, grimacing away from the chunk of whatever just flew out of her nose.

She tried to stand up, felt dizzy, and then quickly sat back down. ..come on girl, get up... she admonished. She stood up again and this time stayed on her feet. Gently she shuffled over to the window facing the outside and tried to see into the foggy dark. It was morning, she could tell, there were people hustling into their daily chores to get as much work done before the sun made it too hot, a routine she was very familiar with. She shuffled over to her bucket to relieve herself and then slowly made her way back to her lumpy little cot. Where in the hell am I? she thought, and began to rub her face. I must be in jail. Someone must've found our wagons and found me covered in... it was hard to think but she forced the words out in her mind, ...covered in blood and brought me here. They must've cleaned me up I guess, but why the fuck would they do that? I'd've thought they'd just leave me in my rags if they were gonna hang me. Her mind swirled.

She closed her eyes and slowly tried to play the last night she remembered in her head. They crossed the big Mississippi river.. the caves.. that creepy old bitch woman and her damn fire that showed her friends...family.. blood and monsters. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she was taught by her Da that you don't hide from the truth, and so she soldiered into the next memories. I floated out from my body. she thought, and I became a monster. Instinctively she reached with her hand to her shoulder blade and traced the scar with her fingers over her shoulder and down her left arm almost to her elbow. My God, what have I done. Feelings of guilt and shame began to bear down on her and her whole body began to feel heavy, and cold.

Then suddenly she felt a hard, painful kick to her back that pummeled her across the room into the wall by her toilet. She stopped, she didn't hit the wall, something was wrong. Facing the wall she willed herself to turn and look behind her and there she saw, on the cot across the room, her body, sitting with it's knees drawn up to her face and looking at her with a murderous glare. The Monster.. she thought, and as if in response she saw her shoulders begin to move up and down as the creature took fast and heaving breaths. Terror began to overwhelm Nala and a moment of cognitive dissonance settled in. She began to aimlessly float toward the heaving creature in front of her, her eyes glued to it's dilated pupils and blood shot corneas. She knew in her heart that this thing, this demon, wanted her to die so that it could take her body and use it for whatever violent impulses lived in its black heart.

She floated past the window and a gentle light caught her eye. She turned her astral head and Looked through the bars at a light that was bright like the sun but didn't hurt to look upon. Her feelings of helpless terror began to fade. Within the light a figure began to form, a woman, a mother. Nala felt with sureness in her soul that this woman was there for her, that she knew her, and would help her; Nala realized that this bright image of a woman radiated a Mother's love and would protect all who would be her child. Mesmerized, Nala felt herself trying to see the woman's face, she saw the outline a warm smile and kind eyes, but behind she saw a skull and a black shroud.

As quickly as the vision came it left, and Nala's face snapped back to the eyes of her inhabited body. "That's Mine you BITCH! she yelled and furiously willed herself back into her body! She felt the entity now, she felt it as weak and pathetic, she felt it's power and realized that it could not over take her unless she let it. She pushed the will of the enemy soul into a small ball and tucked it into her stomach to stay until she could figure out how to be rid of the thing, and then she blinked open her own, physical eyes.

She took a few breaths to steady herself. . . Her mind felt clear, and she felt resolved. She knew her next step was to get out this hell hole she was in. After that, figure out how to get rid of this fucking creature. Anything else didn't matter, she'll deal with that when she comes to it.

She got up from the cot and walked up to the door. "Hello?" she called out into the hallway.

---

Ding, Dong, Ding, Dong Luna hear the noise of her clock and also hear the people walk by, it's time to work. Luna put on her red dress, her earrings and her special necklace, she hop downstairs, open up her front window curtains that shows mannikins wearing her dresses and flip her sign that reads "Open, come right in, darling~" Luna look out through front window to see the people walking past her store, some past customers she had and some not but hopefully they will enter the store soon enough. Luna then grab some a needle and thread and start sewing a beatutiful white dress, one of her customers wants it done by tomorrow, let's just hope this girl has money in her pocket.

Luna then a bell ring while she is stitching up the top of the dress, she thought it was a customer but then she starting to sense something, something that make her blood boil. Without looking away from her dress, Luna play with her needle a little and then, out of nowhere, she flick the needle off her hand and it hit the wall, scaring the customer who is very british and very familiar to Luna.

"Holy shit!" screamed the customer "Bloody hell, Luna! How did you know it was me?!" "Even though it been six years, I know what your blood smell like." Luna say to the customer "It smells like wine, alcohol, raspberry and, hmmmm, what that another smell? I sworn I smell that flavor before, what was it?.....Oh right! Betrayal." Luna coldly said. The customer groans "Oh come on, Lulu" Luna blood cringe when she used that old nickname "I was only twenty-five, my mind was on the money~" The customer say while she pull the needle out of the wall "After that day, I feel the guilt deep down inside and it was telling me to meet you in person. So my dear Red Mood, Can you ever forgive me?" The customer kindly to Luna, Luna smile at her, she does have the way with words but sadly, that doesn't anymore "As much I'm a polite and nice lady, I'm sad to say that I don't accept your apology, Rebecca James." Luna say as her eyes glow bright red.

Rebecca nice façade finally fall off and she was back to her real, arrogant, self, she sighs and flop on to the scarlet sofa "And get your sorry butt off of my sofa and tell me the real reason why you are here." Luna snap at Rebecca while she return to her dress making duty "What? Can a old friend vist a old friend? Can she just relax in this god-damn tow-" "You're running from the law, are you?" "Yes" Rebecca finally admit. Luna roll her scarlet eyes, of course Rebecca is running from law, she been running from the damn law for a long time "...And owls." And owls, always running away from the ow-....Owls? That word made Luna stop stitching "I'm sorry, owls? Did you say owls?" Rebecca look up at Luna, realize what she just say "Er, um, sorry, just rambling some thoughts. So I just want to lay low of awhile until I found myself a another town to live in, so can you find in your vamp heart to let me stay."

Luna look down on Rebecca with her cold eyes and then sigh, even though this witch betrayed her, she can't kick a old friend out of the curb. ".....All right, Becca. You can stay here." While Rebecca was smiling ear to ear, Luna walk toward the side of the store and grab a broom and dustpan, the vampire hold them right in front of the witch. "If you became my cleaning lady for my store." There few seconds silence between the two supernatural beings, Becca finally stand up from the sofa "You know what? Since I am new in this town I'm going to walk around to get the hang of this place. Great? Great. I'll be back, bye!" Before Luna begins to speak, Rebecca was out of the store and into the streets of North District.

Luna sighs once again, of course she would ignore any jobs and responsibilities. She walk back toward the unfinish dress and resume sewing "....Arrogant witch..."

---

---

"Arrogant bitch...After finally being reunited for so many years, she expects me to clean!" Rebecca say to herself while she pickpocketed people left and right, without them even noticing the witch. Rebecca was right about one thing though, since she is new, she can blend into the crowd, get to know the people around here. And from what she can tell, this is some vampire district and it not the only district that have vampires here. Rebecca feels like she is going to fit right here in Serpent’s Snag.

Oswald Krate

It sure enough, was what Oswald had expected. And surprisingly, it had a relaxed atmosphere, despite it not being particularly busy.

Oswald removed his hat and wiped his brow, then made his way to the bar, waving off the girls offering their attention.
With a yawn, he sat heavily upon the stool, tired from his journey coming to the town, and from wandering around the town itself.

"Afternoon sir. What'll it be?" came the voice of the bartender, as he walked towards Oswald. The man was surprisingly well dressed for his position.

Oswald shifted himself on the stool for more comfort whilst thinking. "Hmm...a nice cold light beer, or perhaps a cider. I'm not sure, surprise me." Oswald replied with a friendly smile. And the bartender simply nodded before going about it.

To his left came a slighty loud giggle from one of the saloon girls entertaining a clearly drunk man, Oswald watched as the man wasn't holding too much back, and as she tried to keep control of her situation.
Oswald rolled his eyes shaking his head as he looked away.

"W-*burp*what you lookin' at?" Oswald sighed, Oh for gods sake he thought to himself. He then looked toward the man and simply said, "Nothing." before looking away. The man was much more drunk than expected.

"Yes you*burp*were. You were lookin' at me. What you want?" the drunkard said barely keeping himself steady on the stool with a bottle in hand.

Oswald didn't pay attention to him at all.

"H-hey i'm talkin' to you!" the man said before he raised his bottle about to attack, and as he did, Oswald then turned to face the man, and a spectral hand then shot out of Oswald and reached into the drunkards gut, pulling out a chained book. The man was confused as he remained paralysed in that pose.

Oswald began reading every page of the book at an impossibly quick rate, and after 20 seconds, he finished it. The hand appearing again to shove the book back into the man. "How terribly dull." Oswald then said as he turned away from the man.

The drunkard regained control over his body. Still confused, he realised he had pissed himself. Shortly after, the drunkard fell off his stool and fell asleep as soon as he hit the floor.

Oswald stood up and moved further down to another stool, to at least get away from the smell.

He then spent about an hour or so keeping to himself as he pondered and edited his notes, occasionally speaking with the bartender about a few topics.

The saloon slowly got busier and busier, and eventually it became too much, so Oswald left and headed back to the hotel. The streets were still bustling with citizens as the day went on. The heat had died down a bit, so at least that was managable.

And as he passed an alleyway, he noticed someone walk through a wall as though there were a door there, and quickly shook his head, thinking that his fatigue was getting to him. He soon returned to the hotel and called it an early night.
Tomorrow, the shanty town.

"My Oh My," said the grizzled Doctor sitting lazily behind his desk, "aren't you just a sweet... thing. We found you over two weeks ago, do you know that? It's nice to see that you've finally woken up." He leered at Nala like she was a lab rat. She narrowed her eyes, uncertain of how to proceed. The ball in her stomach was an ever present reminder that she was dangerous if she lost control, but she still wanted out of this hell-hole in spite of that fact. For the time being this doctor had all the power, she was confined to a strait jacket that was bolted onto hooks in the floor.

"I didn't know when I got here, sir," she said politely, "I appreciate you meeting with me though, Doctor....." She bowed her head in a gesture of deferral and tried to hide her accent. Most people she'd come across didn't take kindly to anyone they thought was from another country.

"Don't mention it," the man said blankly, "Doctor Philips by the way. I'm Doctor Philips, and you are?"

"Nala," she said, "Nala Aiseir, sir."

"What's the last thing you remember, Nala Aiseir?"

"Well," she had stayed up most of the night thinking about how to say this without giving away too much, "My family is from New York and we were traveling west to spread the good news of our Lord and Savior Je.." the pain in her stomach suddenly became very intense and she winced, "...our Lord and Savior to the good people who live out that way. We were going to build a church." She smiled hopefully.

"A church out west you say," the doctor took a long pause, "do you know where your family is now?"

Nala swallowed, "We were attacked on the trail by wolf-men... men-wolfs... monsters, sir. I don't know if any of my family is still alive."

The Doctor took his time to reply, he didn't seem to be in any rush to continue. "Werewolves," he said, "the men-wolfs, as you call them, are werewolves, and a there are a great many in this town. Does that bother you?"

"Well, I mean, if they aren't the same ones who attacked me, I guess, I mean, I wouldn't know would I? But if they're in a city I'd think they were not so wild... right?"

The Doctor impassively rocked in his chair, inspecting Nala like a puzzle he had to solve. "No," he said finally, "I guess not." He paused, and then leaned forward on his desk, "Did you attack your caravan and kill your parents, Nala?"

Nala blinked in surprise, "What NO! Aye, ya' cunt what ails ya'?! Askin' a question loike that?" her accent had slipped out and she inwardly kicked herself. "I'm sorry, I mean, I loved my family and I wouldn't, I'm not a violent person."

"Uh-huh," the doctor said, staring blankly at Nala and not moving a muscle. Nala was starting to feel very uncomfortable when he suddenly came back to life, "Well, Ms. Aiseir, you were found wondering, delirious, covered in blood and severely injured. We thought you maniacal when you arrived in the state you were in, that's why you were brought to us for evaluation and treatment. Do you understand?" Nala nodded. "Now that you are awake and... functioning, I can see that you are of a solid enough mind. The combination of your presentation and story gives evidence of a diagnosis that is supported by current research on the affects traumatic events can have on a person's psyche, so it's not inconceivable that you were experiencing a sort of, fugue state elicited by observing the horrendous murder of your family and companions." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. "Did you get all that Darla?" Suddenly a nurse walked from behind Nala carrying a clipboard and and pencil.

"Yes Doctor," she said professionally.

"Goooood," he langured, "good. Ms. Aiseir," her eyes widened at the mention of her name, "would you like to go home?" The doctor smiled slightly for the first time during the interview.

"...yes, Yes! Absolutely! Please! Though, I don't really have a home to go to." The words escaped her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. The Doctor nodded as if he had already considered this and was prepared to answer.

"That is lamentable, but there is a place for you here," he said.

"In.. in the Sanatorium?" she said mournfully, the thought of being stuck in this awful place made her stomach ache even more. She bent over at the pain, then concentrated on pushing the demon back down lest it take over and she looses whatever chance she had of getting out of this place.

"No," said the Doctor, "we have no use for a young, virile woman such as yourself. Only women of the cloth work here, so as to protect them from the ravages of the inhabitants. No, there is a better place. Darla?" The young nun perked up at her name, "Please send word to Mrs. Adelaide Kane that we have a young woman in need of work and a place to stay." The nun's eyes opened wide in surprise but for only a moment before settling into a sardonic expression.

"Of course Doctor, as you wish." She said, then she left the room.

"Ade- who?" Nala said, scrunching her eyebrows questioningly.

"You will see Ms. Aiseir," Doctor Philips said, leaning back in his chair, "all will be well."

Oswald Krate

Oswald had a pleasant night, and woke up refreshed. Breakfast was basic, but he was thankfull all the same to the hotel's host.

The next place to visit was the shanty town, though what he could expect to find in a place like that is most likely to be of little value. One can find a diamond in the rough however. But first, he'd take another stroll through the markets.

Nothing new really stood out or interested him, until a voice called out his name. "Oswald Krate! Grandson of Alexander Krate!" the voice was that of a womans. He couldn't locate its origin at first, but then the presumed woman waved to him further down the path. She called out again, "Oswald Krate! Grandson of Alexander Krate!", it was indeed her.

He finally got through the crowd to the woman. She was old and ragged, a gypsy woman perhaps.

"I'm sorry, and I don't wish to offend, but you seem to know me, but yet I don't know you." said Oswald.

The woman giggled, "I know many things. And that of you and your grandfather." she said staring at him with a friendly, yet uncomforting grin.
"And how is that?" he asked stepping closer with caution.

The woman then turned to pick up a small but long wooden box, "You have seen one of these, yes?" she asked opening the box towards Oswald. He took a moment as he observed the golden arrow that laid within. "Yes. My grandfather brought one home from his travels, and it now hangs above his fireplace. I assume this means you were the one who gave it to him?" said Oswald crouching down to get a better look at the object.

She ignored his question, "The arrows are exceptionally rare...and dangerous. It is said that they can unlock a person's hidden potential." she closed the box and placed it back where she stored it.

Oswald began to stand up again, but suddenly the old woman grabbed his left hand and then examined it, noticing a scar across its back. "Ahh..." she said, "It seems it may have chosen you already." she continued to inspect it before letting it go.

"What do you mean?" he asked taking a step back.

"The arrow your grandfather brought with him, it pierced your flesh, and you became ill. Did this not happen?" she asked in turn.

Oswald paused in thought for a moment, "Yes. When I was merely 11 years old, I helped my grandmother move a piece of furniture, and somehow the arrow had been dislodged from its holding on the wall. It then cut the back of my hand as it fell, and shortly after, I suffered one of the worst illnesses I had ever endured.".

The woman giggled again, "The arrow chooses who it pierces. And you have gained a great power from it." she leans in towards him looking at and around him. Oswald raised a brow as she did, it was as though she was looking for someone behind him.
He pondered for a moment, and then brought out his spirit from within.
The woman smiled as it appeared, revealing yellowed teeth. "Ah yes, I see it now.", she rests back, "This is the physical manifestation of your fighting spirit. It is you, and you are it. It is called a "Stand", for it will always stand by you." she said feeling satisfied in passing on this information.

"I do remember that I had first encountered it a few years back. It saved my life in fact." Oswald replied looking at it, he then pulled it back in. "There are only a few types of people who can see stands. Vampires, ghosts, and of course other stand users." the womans informs.

It takes him a moment, "Vampires? Ghosts? Really?" he raised a brow after hearing the words. He then watched the crowds around as he spoke. "Then again, knowing the existence of Stands, as you call them, it is not too far fetched of an idea to believe that the undead are real. And a ghost could be a spirit that had lost its body. It is no more unusual in comparison I admit." he said thinking out loud, accepting something that would normally sound ridiculous to him.

"So since you can apparently see my stand, what does that make you?" he asked turning back to her. His eyes then widened with shock and confusion, as the woman and all her possessions were gone. He tried to look where she could have gone to, he even asks one of the nearby stall-keepers if they saw where the woman went, but to no avail.

He paused for a few moments to gather himself, and then made his way out of the market.
Could I have imagined that? Was everything that woman said true? I cannot say for sure, but I will have to keep an eye out from now on he thought to himself.



Oswald made his way towards the shanty town, though he struggled to navigate the many narrow streets. And after searching for another 10 minutes, he took a moment to rest and figure out where he was.

"I should have gone down the main road north of the market." he said shaking his head.

"Everything alright feller?" said a reasonably well dressed man resting against a wall in the shade.

Oswald observed him for a moment, he then chuckled to himself slightly. "I am afraid to say that I am a little lost. I'm trying to get to the shanty town, for I am writing a book about this town and its history.
I was informed that it would be a good location to go to for information." he said coming to join the man in the shade.

"Hmm...well this is the wrong street. You'd may as well head to the centre of town, and try going north east. Past the mayors office." the man said chewing on his pipe.

"I see. Thank you sir." Oswald replied tipping his hat in respect.

The man spoke again, "Names Jacob." he said nodding to Oswald. "Ah, a pleasure sir, i'm Oswald." he said offering a handshake. Jacob didn't pay attention, "We don't get many of you Brits around here. Its always good to see some new faces." he said with a friendly smile whilst watching the passers-by.

Oswald withdrew his hand, "Well I have met a few rather eccentric types here already myself." said Oswald partly joking.

"Yea, we got lots of 'em. Vampires, witches and the like. Its an interestin' bunch." the man said very casually followed by a relaxed sigh.

Oswald simply nodded, still not fully sold on the facts. He felt a brief chill out of nowhere, which surprised him, considering how hot the day was.

"Anyway, i'd best be off." Jacob said looking at a broken pocket-watch he pulled out of his waistcoat pocket. "See ya around." he gave Oswald a friendly wink before turning to leave. Oswald watched the him leave, and realised something odd, the man had several bloody patches on his back, and soon enough, as Jacob walked into the sun bathed street, he slowly faded away.
Oswald was dumbfounded, mouth agape and eyes widened in shock.

A young boy standing behind Oswald asked, "Hey mister, who were ya talkin' to?", Oswald slowly pulled himself came back from the shock, and replied "I..uh..A man, that man just dissappeared. Did you not see him?" he asked the boy hoping for validation on what he saw.

"What man mister?" the boy clearly unaware on what Oswald spoke of.


Later in the day...

Oswald sat heavily onto his bed, exhausted from his day out.
It turned out that the shanty town had little to offer afterall. But the one thing he couldn't let go of, was the image of the man dissappearing in the sunlight.

There must be more to this. The man said that there were witches and vampires. Perhaps i'm going mad, but at this point I don't know what to think. Oswald thought to himself, head in hands.

He tries to get some rest, but couldn't, knowing what he saw was not just his imagination. It couldn't of been, it was all too vivid.



After some more attempts at sleeping, Oswald gave up and got out of bed.

I have no leads other than the shanty town, and apparently supernatural beings. This is ridiculous. he let out a big sigh shaking his head in his frustration. I'll have to go there again, just to get it out of my system. Perhaps the night will offer more than the day. Oswald stood up and looked out the window. The street seemed pretty quiet, excluding the occasional drunkard, or night worker passing by.

He then re-dressed and gathered his things before heading back out into the town. The hotel manager appeared to be still awake, oblivious to Oswalds presence, lost in a book. Though he had a glazed expression most of the time anyway.

The night air was slightly chilly, and the streets reasonably as quiet as he expected. Oswald kept to himself as he made his way back to the shanty town, ignoring the occasional person watching him as he passed. His discomfort from the eyes that tracked him ever present, especially from those in the shadows. This is a bad idea. It seems the night may harbour more trouble than I would like. he thought.

After 15 minutes had passed, and as he made his way around a corner, he noticed a pair of unsavory characters coming from down the road he was going to and decided to hide behind a wall, waiting for them to pass.

And as the two passed by, Oswald heard a sound behind him, and quickly turned to face whoever was there, only to be surprised by a familiar face, it was Jacob. "Evenin'. Out for a stroll are we?" said the man still chewing his pipe from earlier.

"Oh, you startled me sir.", Oswald quickly regathered his composure, "Yes, I just had this little nagging thought I wished to be rid of, so I decided to get some air."
The man as relaxed as ever simply nodded.

"Fair en-" before Jacob could finish his sentence, he recoiled in pain, before being dragged throught the air, and to Oswald's amazement, through a wall as though it weren't there. Oswald didn't let his shock stop him this time, and proceeded to follow the alley way and back passages to find where the man went to. And eventually he turned a corner to see that he was at the edge of the shanty town. And in the middle of some space between shacks, was a woman in a ragged robe, chanting and glowing with a sickly green aura.

This woman was dragging people in with some strange power, and somehow absorbing them into herself.

Oswald noticed these, he presumed spirits, had unusual clothes, none of which you would see in these modern times. Its no more bizzarre than everything else he'd seen so far he thought.

From behind, he could hear the cry of a young boy, and turned to see such coming through a wall as though it were not there, just like Jacob. He reached out a hand to help catch the boy, but it made no contact, it simply went through as though he trying to catch air. He then brought out his stand as a last resort, and remarkably caught the boys hand.

"Hold on lad!" he ordered.
It seems my stand can interact with spirits. That makes sense I suppose. Oswald thought to himself as he held the boy back from the what he assumed was some sort of witch.

The boy still crying, "Please, don't let me go!" he said slightly losing grip as the intensity of the womans power increased. Oswald then noticed a familiar spirit fly into the woman, "Jacob!" Oswald called out in panic.

The womans head darted up at Oswalds outcry, and tilted her head as she noticed him holding a spirit back. She then stopped chanting and began laughing. It was nothing short of a manical cackle.
A strong gust of wind was cast from her being and knocked Oswald back, him and the boy losing their grip. The boy too was then absorbed still crying as it happened.

"Don't get in my way fool!" warned the woman, trying to focus on her task.

"You Bitch!" yelled out Oswald getting up from his knees.

"What?!" she said surprised and unaware she heard him right.

Oswald stood up holding his hat which was now scratched and covered in dirt. "I said; "You Bitch!" " he reiterated. His face etched in pure anger, he then stood up and began to walk towards the woman.

The witch laughed as she saw him approach, "Ha, what a joke. Why don't you be the first to experience my new power." she then outstreched an arm toward Oswald, spawning two spirits, their visage warped and wreathed in a dark fog.
They came toward him, arms reaching out to grab him.

Oswald's pace increased ever slightly, he then simply punched the two phantoms out of his way via his stand. The spirits exploded, causing a sudden small shockwave that battered the shacks, awaking those within, and surprising those already watching as the situation unfolded.

The witch raised a brow, and summoned more and more phantoms, all the while Oswald smacked them aside as he got closer and closer.
"What is this!" she exclaimed, confused and beginning to show signs of concern.

"You ruined my hat you irritating hag!" he yelled at her as he punched his way through the seemingly unending tide of phantoms.

"Why won't you die?!" she said beginning to panic.
Suddenly she felt a hard impact in her gut, coughing up blood as she did. The witch then looked up to see what happened, and Oswald stood before her, with a strange being beside him. She could see the violent intent written across the mans face. "Do you know the meaning of Our Truth?" he asked, rhetorically and disturbingly calmly.

She raised a hand as she was about to reply, but suddenly, GODADADADADA-..both Oswald and his stand started riddling her body with punch after punch. Her bones buckling under the mass of impacts.
"-DADADA..and Goodbye!" And with a final strike into the chest, the witch was sent flying into a nearby shack wall with a loud crash.
After a minute had passed, Oswald watched as green orbs began to raise out of her broken body and then land on the ground. The lights expanded and were revealed to be the spirits that she absorbed. They were dazed and confused, but otherwise relieved to be back.

And with a nod of satisfaction, Oswald turned and left the shanty town, unaware he had trod upon a dropped wanted poster, which happened to have had the witch's likeness on it.