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[Isk]

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Gregory Hines paced in front of the double door to his lab. His spectacled eyes often turned to the clock pulsating the time in red upon the thin sheet of glass that shielded his retinas. He held an electronic tablet in his hand which illustrated his latest procurement:

“The Foreigner,” a member of the Capitol Royal Tomb find dating back to the British period. The artifacts located with the body are currently on display at the museum of Ancient History.

A single metallic bed beside which rested various medical tools occupied the centre of the halogen lit environment. If the lab could speak it would divulge the secrets of many long deceased figures, secrets that Dr. Hines had based his life unraveling. And now as the sound of a creaking stretcher approached Gregory could only leap towards the doors to hold them open in welcome to The Foreigner.

“Dr. Hines, you are as excitable as ever” Murielle said as she wheeled the stretcher into the room. Its occupant, while completely covered in a white shroud already became the source of Hines’ appraisal.

“He is smaller than I thought he would be” Gregory stated as he gestured towards the operation table in the centre of the room, leading Murielle to it.

“All mummies are doc. They shrink with age. Lift on three, two, one”

Gregory and Murielle carefully set the figure upon the metallic operation table. With the move of his hand Gregory brought his overhead surgical light to the subject’s shrouded head and adjusted it ever so slightly.

“What secrets we shall reveal” He licked his bottom lip and slowly shed the shroud from the mummy’s head gradually revealing an eerily intact porcelain mask. Vacant black orbs stared back at the mesmerized pair.

“So is it him?” Murielle questioned looking from the masked husk of a head to Gregory. He only grinned as he slid the mask off the corpse’s head being perhaps one of a handful of archaeologists to have done so in their studies of The Foreigner.

“There is serious decay” Gregory whispered as he shined the light along the slightly caved in face. While the nose and cheeks were vacant the lower jaw remained in tact revealing perfectly set teeth. “He’s not in as great a shape as the other mummies I’ve studied”

“Well doc, this one is an oddity in the archaeological community. The only reason he even has skin on his bones is because of his diet.” Murielle spoke in return though by now her voice was almost as whispered as that of the doctor.

“Utopia. Yes, I’ve read Professor Maynar’s article in Sosaria Scientific. It made me jealous. I wish I had made the connection, but the face is mostly vacant as if he were bludgeoned”

With modest hesitation Dr. Hines removed the rest of the shroud and glanced along the thin frame of the mummy. The chest cavity was completely crushed from the weight of the armor the body once wore, armor that was now in the collection of some rich collector. Hines traced his fingers along the mummy’s arms which seemed to be ceremoniously placed to cover his pelvis. Hines ran his attention down to The Foreigner's wrists then placed his attention to the left hand.

“His bone structure looks worn here at the wrist, likely from tremors. I’d have to run DNA tests but I’d say he had Ryerson's Disease. Probably played with his brain’s development, must have had a paranoid personality as a result.”

“That’s a lot to gather just by looking at the wrist doc.”

“That’s why I’m the best...” Hines retorted. “…and you’re going to like what I have to say next. I think we found our Isk.”

[Isk]

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[Isk]

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Matriarch! Matriarch!
Hear the crying of our bell
Be mesmerized by our dark spell
The frozen one will take you to hell
Matriarch! Matriarch!


Decked out in Metal apparel and occultist imagery from the British Period the group called Umbra’s Chosen was amid another intense meeting debating their future. Drugs and skin magazines rested on laps and the sound of the band’s single ‘Matriarch’ played quietly in the background while the group's lead singer continued his pitch to the group.

“What I am saying is that we have the image, we have the music but we don’t have the fame” Infernal stated while gesticulating with long fingers at the others. His red painted face made him out to look like his namesake “We’ve got to get out of my mother’s basement and get recognized!”

“Frack man, what you are suggesting sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus.” Hell Mouth replied after blowing out a few smoke rings from his skeleton painted lips.

“Are we not a Dark Metal band? Frack guys, we can’t sit around getting stoned all the time. We need to take the extra step! What do you think Vampira?” Infernal glanced at the only female member of the four man group.

Vampira looked up from her leather bound book, the black lipstick and white makeup of her face made her look like the bloodless creature she pretended to be. “I say we do it. If we are to live up to the badassness of our band name we should do it. Kainwin would’a done it.” She said with a grin. The others nodded along and made cultic signs with their hands upon hearing the name of ancient Umbra’s mythical patroness.

Infernal gestured to the closet door behind the group of stoners and on cue it slid open revealing Ardy, the band’s manager. Another tacky entrance to lower the band’s defenses. Ardy Baxter wore a black wife-beater to display the mirage of strange and dark tattoos over his arms. His pierced nose, ears and eyebrows marked him as one of the more hardcore faces of the Dark Metal movement, that and brand on his collar which boldly read “Daemon” screamed dedication. Thick chains hung from his tight leather pants and a single large silver pentagram dangled from his belt next to a large book which always seemed to defy gravity. He greeted his band with the customary devil horns to which they replied in kind.

Ardy Baxter had been a mystery to the group. Infernal met him in a bathroom at a local tavern after playing a gig. The black clad man professed to be a deamon and offered Infernal a wish. Naturally Infernal laughed thinking the man to be a poser and upon being pressed wished for some groupies. That night the band heard a knock on its motel room door. Ardy Baxter along with a herd of easy women and drugs made themselves guests for the night and while the women left the next morning Ardy and the drugs remained.

“Hells yes! I knew you kids were Metal.” Ardy worked his way to the centre of the group. “This is the ultimate dedication to our music. There is nothing higher. Selling your souls to the ancient ones is TOTAL METAL.”

Umbra’s Chosen grinned. Their gradual corruption at the hands of their manager lead them to this moment and there was no turning back.

Matriarch! Matriarch!
You’re the mother of us all
Say the words and we heed your call
Down in hell in your cell so small
Just scream the names and we’ll kill them all
Just scream the names and we’ll kill them all
Matriarch! Matriarch!


…..

Elsewhere in the University of Vespers…

Gregory Hines looked at the blue screen of his work computer. His book was near completion and he had hope that it would sell well given the controversy his claims had sparked in the Capitol. The Foreigner had brought Hines more fame than he could ever wish for but the DNA findings and subsequent theory caused many right wing groups to pull their funding out of the university. The notion that a Magitonian ruled on the Capitol mainland infuriated many racists. Now Dr. Hines’ ten-year would be up in a couple of months and he knew that his contract would not be resigned due to political pressures. Gregory and his Isk mummy would essentially be out in the cold.

“Third night of protests Greg” Murielle whispered as she looked out the narrow window of the work room. “Looks like they have a bonfire going”

“Bunch of kids.” Hines mumbled as his fingers typed away.

“Perhaps, but you know The Foreigner is starting to be a campaign issue. The Mayoral elections are around the corner and with the increasing amount of illegals coming in from Magiton the hospitals can’t handle all those Ryerson’s patients… professor, it may not be safe here”

“Murielle, please. I am well aware of all the political crap. Plans are in the works regarding transferring our friend Isk to the Vespers Museum. My book should be complete by the time my term at the university expires and I can peddle it on the talk shows. The mummy has so many secrets yet to divulge on Pre-Cataclysm society.” Gregory gave his fingers a rest and spun his chair around to glance at his assistant.

Murielle sighed gently and ran her slender hand down the window before turning to Gregory and after offering up a smile she nodded. “I hope Capitol is ready for your book Mr. Hines.”

[Isk]

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Wizen and old, a drunken poet sat at a stool in his favourite bar with the sound of loud Metal playing over his shoulder. Perhaps he was too drunk to care or maybe his words were nothing but the fabrications of a mind eager for attention but he spoke them with great conviction and though no one truly listened he felt a great weight lift his shoulders at the telling:

“This discourse, as short as it is… is the true account of the history of this Sosaria. What? The name is not familiar to you?” he asked no one in particular “It was Sosaria once, thousands of years ago it was a place of magic.”

“No one knows how it happened but the mystical energy holding this realm together became twisted. Beings with the ability to cast spells turned to carriers of some sort of sickness that spread only to those who used the mystic art. In a world where magic was the main means of travel the cause of the pandemic was not uncovered until it was far too late as naturally it seemed everyone was getting sick. Almost everyone believed that the ‘Reddening’ was unstoppable. It was a virus the likes that the land had never seen. When most gave up hope for a cure, a mage in Moonglow, now called Glow, uncovered that there was no cure. The only way to stop catching the Reddening was to not cast spells or use magical portals.”

The poet took a long sip of beer interrupting his discourse only to read the bottom of the glass before he continued.

“Spell scrolls were burnt, artifacts, books on magical theory, anything related to magic slowly became extinct. Paranoia drove a great many atrocities. In certain places mages were burnt at the stake even though they swore off the craft. With the loss of magic ‘Reason’ crept into the mind of man and it gave birth to Science. With science came the need to classify all things and so a crazed old man dug up a forty page book and brought the sentient species of the land under a racial scale. Before long, wars broke out between the races and the race of humanity came out on top through nothing more than numbers and ferocity, climbing if you will over the burning books that presented the true history of this land which by their will vanquished into oblivion.

And what is history if not something written by the winners?” He half smiled at the bartender who gazed upon him with a look reserved for the insane.

“Another beer to get you silent?” he slyly spoke.

“Silent? I have not been called that in a long time” the wizen old poet replied.

* * * * *

The streets of Vespers had never been busy as its people liked to traverse using all manner of boats. It was in their blood to calmly sail from one end of the city to the other beneath the majestic curved bridges. As quiet as the night was, this was no calming trip for what remained of the band Umbra’s Chosen. Hell Mouth, Vampira and Ardy Baxter were stacked into a van along with the bounty of their murderous pact.

Crimson dripped down Hell Mouth’s side as he gripped the side of the truck door, his fingers accidentally dripping into the ash tray. “I’m hurt bad Ardy. Im frackin’ bleeding!”
“Shut the hell up!” Ardy yelled as he narrowed his eyes swerving in and out of near non existing traffic. The paranoid nagging of his passengers caused his teeth to grind together.

“Man why the frack did we do this? Why the frack did we kill that dude.”

“Dr. Hines man, Frackin’ Dr. Hines!”

“We stole a body man!”

“Infernal’s dead!”

“The Stranger, we should not have listened to you man! You’re the frackin’ devil man!”

“Im bleedin!”

The windowless van turned down a narrow road between tall buildings and for a moment Ardy allowed himself to breathe. He shrugged aside Hell Mouth as he reached for the glove compartment, opening it he moved aside his handgun to take out the Umbra’s Chosen CD. With a calm breath he turned to track eight while maneuvering the car to a stop under the shadow of an alley.

Matriarch is on our lips
Her blackness fills our mortal souls
Our sins infect the very place
And we defile with every touch
Where these bright gods made virtues rest

“Get out of the car” he said in that calm voice that demanded action.

Vampira and Hell Mouth slid out the van doors into the waiting night of the back alley. The quiet sounds of gulls from the nearby docks were interrupted by the sudden and loud shut of the van doors. The smell of death suddenly permeated the air as Vampira and a side-clutching Hell Mouth turned to look at the gun-wielding Ardy.

“What are you doing Ardy?” Vampira asked in shock “Ardy this is no time for games man, we just killed someone. We’ve got a damned mummy in the van we need to get going!”

Hell Mouth dropped to his knees as if unable to hold his weight, vitae dripped to the cold concrete ground.

“I must admit that for a time I felt at home amidst you misfits, but you are no Umbrans, and you sing like rubbish” Ardy’s index finger gently squeezed the trigger.

–BAM-

The loud cry of lead burrowed a hole through Hell Mouth’s neck, dropping him the rest of the way to the cold floor.

She screamed.

“Vampira. Tell me something… you are a natural redhead?” He spun the gun barrel as he approached her, his eyes enjoying the smoke exiting the shaft. “Behind that poser undead makeup, you are nothing but a freckle faced ginger, aye?”

“PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” she fell to her knees, arm outstretched and hand trembling.

When he came near enough, Ardy set the barrel to her head and squatted beside her. Her tears fell and mixed with the blood on the band manager’s custom gothic boots. “So... are you?”

“Y-Y-YES!” she cried with an increasing stammer.

Ardy brushed the gun along her dye-job raven hair “Suppose there is only one way to truly tell...”

And the van’s music played on…

We ravish the bodies of our foes
And bring them to her altar floor
Matriarch we do your wish
And praise your name forever more