The world stuttered and Damian found himself sitting across from Catherine, who looked as bewildered and annoyed as he felt. A bunch of foreign memories invaded his mind. As he was attempting to process them the world grayed out and the monotone voice of the host entity started to play.
“You have been hit with a montage setback. The montage is just one of the many available setback options that the factions of the universe have access to. This specific one puts your body on autopilot and fast forwards you to the specified time. As compensation you are given memories and rewards for various side quests as if you completed them. Once the new memories are received you are granted a period of one hour to sort them and process any pertinent information they contain. Your main quest progression is slowed but still increases during the montage, however it will never give you conclusive evidence and may lead you to wrong conclusions or red hearings.”
Damian let loose a bevy of curses that startled nearby patrons. Catherine gave them an apologetic smile then laid a hand on Damian’s forearm, “Calm down, we still have time and it’s not as if we gained nothing from this. Sort your thoughts and we will compare when done, but for now try not to draw too much attention.”
Realizing that she was right, Damian took a deep breath and started to go through his new memories starting from the day after they arrived. No new victim was revealed so he and Catherine introduced themselves to the druid’s and asked about the problems they were experiencing. The druids were all too happy to have professional monster hunters take over investigating and told them everything they knew. Their timeline of disappearances started two weeks before that of Father Sullivan’s and there were some notable differences.
First was that each of their victims was coming home from a bar when they were killed, in addition to the random locations the duo learned about from Gugulethu’s grandma. Second was that two thirds of the men were seen speaking to a woman in a dress that could only be described as flowing and elegant, at various points during the night. No one could accurately recall the woman’s features other than that she was almost ethereally beautiful. Having received all the information, they could at the moment, the duo decided to leave.
On their way out of the community Damian made a mistake, he accidentally stepped on a mushroom on the side of the road. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, however this was one mushroom in a ring of them. Combined with the knowledge that druids maintained the area Damian made the horrifying realization that he had crushed part of a fairy ring. He desperately whipped his head around in hopes of finding a grocer nearby but was out of luck, as none could be found. With a curse he searched his inventory hoping he had something to offer as compensation but was stopped by a furious, squeaky voice.
“What’s the big idea crushing my home, huh? Do you have no manners or are you just particularly stupid among your kind?” A small humanoid with butterfly wings about the size of a barbie doll hovered accusingly in front of Damian.
“It was an accident, and not intentional. I will, however, attempt to fix the ring to mend the balance, fair pixie. Would that be acceptable?” Damian carefully chose his words. He had to fight the urge to say sorry or the little pixie would take him for everything it possibly could.
The little being haughtily sniffed and stuck his nose in the air, “Barely but it will do for now. Hop too it you overgrown simian, I want my home fixed as soon as possible.”
Damian gritted his teeth, nodded and marched back to the grove the druids were staying at. When he requested a mushroom to repair a fairy ring for an up jumped child’s toy with too much attitude, they just laughed and gave him one. Damian didn’t fail to notice money changing hands either as he left. Repairing the fairy ring took twenty minutes before the little bastard was satisfied. The pixie kept insulting him and making overly judgmental critiques of his placement of a damn mushroom. Catherine just giggled at the whole ordeal, eating popcorn of all things while enjoying the show. When they were finally allowed to leave Damian made his second mistake, he grumbled under his breath with harsh insults directed at the pixie, forgetting that its hearing was likely as good if not better than his. And so started his string of misfortune that would plague him for two months.
The next significant event was the stakeout of the church graveyard just north of the Five Points. He and Catherine had found an out of the way place with a good view of the grave stones and settled in for a long wait. It was just after midnight when a hooded figure in tattered clothing shuffled into the graveyard with three zombie helpers. Just as they were about to spring their trap on the man who had just ordered the zombies to start digging, misfortune in the form of a winged miscreant appeared. The pixie from a few days prior flew overhead and dropped a flower pot just in front of Damian’s feet. The hooded figure turned around and spotted Damian who had emerged from his hiding place to sneak towards the man. The man cursed ordered the zombies to attack and fled, normally Damian or Catherine would have just bypassed the zombies while the other took them down to chase the culprit, however when either of them tried they were nearly hit with flower pots to the head.
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This pattern repeated itself over the rest of the montage time. The duo and Bronze would be fighting monsters and something would happen to Damian. His laces would suddenly be tied together, flower pots came for his head, or a random wire or string he failed to notice would appear and trip him. One that really infuriated Damian was during a rooftop chase of a biersal, a beer-loving kobold of Germanic folklore that inhabits breweries. Just as he leaped a gap between buildings, about to catch the little gremlin, a pale of sea water and kelp flew into his face, extending the chase and knocking Damian on his ass. It was never more than a minor inconvenience but Damian swore vengeance on that pixie fucker numerous times, much to the fae’s amusement.
While their battles were littered with a miscreant’s mischief, their investigation had progressed slightly. There was a total of nine deaths over the two-month period of the montage but noticeably only two were from among the Catholic Church parish. Seven of them were from the Druidic/Celtic and Teutonic communities. Of those seven only two, one from each community fit the pattern they were told about by Father Sullivan while the others were found in alleyways behind bars and out of the way places. Each victim had two pinpricks on their neck regardless of where they were found, and were drained of blood. However, something seemed strange about the victims that died in their homes but Damian couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
The rest of the memories was just about his interactions with the locals during this time. He had made quite a reputation among the gamblers and none would play with him anymore due to winning too much off them, but he did make a few friends who would always tell him the gossip they overheard at their work during the day. In particular Damian got to know the undertaker, Hans Kristenmacher rather well. The man had showed up to the tavern a week into their stay and tended to linger around Damian. While initially, and still partially, suspicious of the man’s intentions, it turned out the man had a passion for monster trivia and occult knowledge in general.
The man claimed that he wanted to join the MHL as a child but an injury to his back prevented him from pursuing that dream yet found it hard to let go completely. They had quite a few productive chats where Hans shared many traditional Germanic folklore stories that Damian didn’t know, which Damian reciprocated with some of the Native American folklore he had learned in his studies at university. The reason Damian didn’t completely drop his suspicion was Hans’ fascination with rituals of binding and necromancy. The man cited a rise in body snatching and overhearing some ne’er-do-wells discussing such things. However, the man’s questions were always just a little to pointed, a little too knowledgeable about the underlying principles for Damian’s comfort.
Coming back to the present Damian looked to Catherine to see if she was ready to discuss their next steps. She took a few minutes more seemingly contemplating whatever the memories showed her. She opened her eyes and smirked at Damian.
“Reynold really has it out for you.” She giggled at him.
Damian blinked in confusion.
“The pixie, his name is Reynold. Rather nice fellow when not insulted he has been helping me investigate when he isn’t tormenting you.” Catherine teased.
Damian cursed a for few minutes before calming down and asking, “Whatever. What’s our next move?”
Catherine calmed her giggling and answered, “We are gonna visit that merchant, stock up on anti-vampire items if possible. Then you are going to play bait for our vampiric seductress.” Damian’s confusion must have been evident so she continued. “I’m fairly certain that the killer is a dearg due, an Irish vampire that is created when a woman is driven to suicide from an abusive relationship arranged by her family. Her first victims are usually her husband and father; from there she targets any man she can seduce for sustenance.”
“Huh, that would explain the sightings of a beautiful woman with two thirds of the victims in the non-Catholic communities. It fits the seduction aspect, but the home killings feal……. I don’t know. Staged, maybe?” Damian asked.
Catherine shrugged, “A dearg due isn’t an unintelligent monster, she has all the cunning and smarts of a vicious predator and the drive to inflict violence of a scorned woman. Seeing as the Catholic victims are the minority they are likely a cover she is using to throw anyone off her trail.”
Something about that didn’t sit right with Damian, but he didn’t have a better explanation at the moment so he said, “I guess it fits. I still think there is something else going on but I’ll defer to you on this. Let’s go meet a friend then.”
As Catherine followed Damian out of the inn she asked, “Friend?”
“I’m pretty sure our merchant is Maladus, so we should get a decent price for whatever we need.” Damian said with a smile. After all Damian had prepared a bunch of media and games for just such an occasion before he left Tennessee.
