A cold wind blew, howling like a lonely wolf on the countryside. 
Nothing seemed to move, save for the occasional cluster of dead 
leaves, blown skyward by the rushing wind. Everything seemed 
tense, as if nature itself were holding its breath in fear of some 
unseen predator. 


The silence was broken by a man leaning against a dead tree to 
catch his breath. He tipped his flask high, drinking the last precious 
drops of water he had packed with him. The Netherlands did not 
agree with him, he had decided that much. The weather was dreary 
in London, but at least it wasn't so bleeding cold all the time. He was 
a clerk, not a mountain man. The wind swept past him again, 
knocking him off balance, and ripping his hat from his head. 


He chased after it from a bit, before sighing and cutting his losses. 
He turned back to the road, and continued on his way to his client's 
estate. As he continued, the sky grew darker. It moved too slow to 
be noticeable, but a fog crept its way upon him. It grew darker and 
thicker as he went on, until he could barely see his hand in front of 
his face. The shadows of trees seemed to grow distant, leaving him 
alone. 


Just when he had almost given up hope of finding the place, a 
courtyard came into view. An iron fence surrounded a large 
structure, made of old mossy stone. Ivy crept down the sides of it, 
twisting and knotting into strange shapes. A cold chill ran down the 
man's spine, and not from the wind. He collected himself, and 
continued up to the door. 


Before he even had a chance to knock, it opened, just a crack. A 
rush of even colder air blew out, catching him off guard. He started 
to turn away, perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. But then, a 
deep, heavily accented voice spoke. 


"| see that you found yourWay, safe and sound. You are Whately, 
Randolph?" 


The man gulped, pushing against his fear. "Randolph Whately, yes." 


The door opened fully, revealing a decrepit old man, in extravagant 
red robes. Randolph would have thought it was a starved victim of 
the wild, if it hadn't been for those eyes, which gazed at him with 
cold intelligence. 


The figure regarded Randolph, before bowing deeply. "Welcome. 
Please, come in." 


There was a tense pause, before Randolph bowed in return, and 
stepped inside with his suitcases. "You are... Mister Teiwaz vom 
Uradel, is that correct?" 


The figure nodded, and smiled to the younger man. "Yes. But you 
come as a friend, you may simply call me Teiwaz." The way he 
pronounced it was harsh and guttural, as if the name wasn't meant 
to be pronounced by a human tongue. "Well met, Geng Whately." 


On the inside, the place was dark, with only the occasional torch to 
shed light on the old walls. As Randolph followed Teiwaz through, 
he clutched his coats around him, feeling as if he were being 
watched. He was led past many oddities, skulls of strange beasts 
mounted on the wall, open doors leading to a seemingly endless 
rows of bookshelves, and strange machines which whirred and 
ticked with a rhythm of their own. Teiwaz looked over his shoulder at 
Randolph's bewildered expression. 


"Forgive the clutter. | am a collector of sorts, and | have obtained 
many artifacts and relics over the long years. They hold great 
meaning to me." Teiwaz smiled, in a way that made Randolph's skin 
crawl. 


Randolph paused to look at a small object on a shelf, an ornate 
mask, which smiled up at him. "Your findings are quite wonderful, if 
you don't mind my saying." He went to pick up the mask to examine 
it closer, only to be stopped by an icy grip around his wrist. He 
looked to his side to see Teiwaz, far too close for comfort. The smile 
was gone, leaving him with an even more eerie blank look. 


Teiwaz spoke, barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't touch things 
that you find here. Follow me closely, and do not stray again." 


Randolph pulled back his hand, nodding uncomfortably. Teiwaz 
turned, and continued. Randolph shot another glance at the mask, 
only to see it frowning in a disappointed way. He took a quick step 
back, mouth agape, before moving briskly to join Teiwaz. 


After what seemed like hours of walking, the two reached a large 
dining hall, which looked as if it had not seen life in years. Dust 
caked empty glasses, and abandoned spiderwebs hung from the 
chairs. 


Teiwaz gestured to the table with one of his skeletal hands. "Please, 
sit. We have much to discuss, | am sure." 


Randolph nodded, and took the chair that looked the least likely to 
collapse under him, and opened one of his suitcases. Teiwaz sat 
beside him, again uncomfortably close. Randolph forced a smile, 
and began to produce documents and photographs from his 
suitcase. 


"This, Mister Teiwaz, is the estate," He produced a picture of a large 
manor, and placed it on the table. "It's a rather large place for one 
man, but considering your estate now, it may in fact be a step down 
for you." Randolph laughed, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it 
was met by silence. 


Teiwaz scrutinized the photo, looking over every visible nook and 
cranny. Finally, he spoke. "And you say it is near the heart of the 
city?" 


Randolph nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, in fact it's quite close to my 
own house. The only other structures nearby are other houses, and 


a hospital." Technically speaking, it was a madhouse, but Randolph 
didn't journey all this way to be turned down. 


"To be close to the heart of the city is my wish, and it will be good to 
be close to my friend Whately, yes?" Teiwaz looked up at Randolph, 
a predatory smile on his face. The younger man cringed, but 
returned the gesture awkwardly. Teiwaz chuckled. "Do not worry, | 
would not impose myself on you. | have made certain arrangements, 
there are men in your London who wish to share in the knowledge | 
have collected over the long years." 


Teiwaz looked down at the picture again. "And who is this lovely 
creature?" 


Randolph looked closer, and realized Teiwaz was holding another 
photo. He stared for a moment, unsure of whether or not to speak. 
Gently, he took the photo out of the older man's hands, and placed it 
back into his suitcase. It was of a young woman, with her arm 
around Randolph. She had beautiful features, with long black hair, 
and a kind face. After a moment of tense silence, Randolph spoke. 


"This is my fiance, Miss Elizabeth Stoke. We're to be married when | 
return." 


Teiwaz nodded, his eyes still fixed on the photographs. He laughed, 
a good, hearty laugh. "How heartwarming it is, to see young love 
blossom. She has an intelligent look about her, you are very 
fortunate, Whately." 


Randolph looked on the photo himself, feeling warmth inside, for the 
first time since he had left London. "Yes, | am. In fact, we-" 


Teiwaz interrupted him, "I will take the estate. It is to my liking." He 
started to rise, fumbling with something around his neck, beneath 
the robes. 


Randolph stared for a minute- he hadn't expected it to be that easy- 
before rising as well, pulling various contracts and forms out of his 
suitcase. "Oh. Well, that's fantastic! In that case, you'll need to-" 


"You misunderstand me," Teiwaz turned, holding the centerpiece of 


an amulet, which was studded with rubies and other gems. It 
glimmered, glowing softly in the dim light. "I said, | will take the 
estate." 


Randolph stared into the amulet, transfixed. There was a flash of 
light, and all was silent. 


Teiwaz turned the amulet to himself, as it began to glow brighter 
with an unearthly light. He turned to a mirror, and admired his 
reflection. The wrinkles which framed his face began to fade, and 
color returned to his hair. His features, which had been angular and 
guant- more like a wolf than a man- had softened. Teiwaz picked up 
the picture of Elizabeth and Randolph together, comparing it to his 
own new face. It was an almost perfect match to Randolph's. Teiwaz 
smirked, and spoke in perfect English. "Thank you, Mister Whately, 
for your services." 


Randolph slumped to the ground, or at least, what was left of him. A 
leathery corpse, devoid the life it had held moments prior. His 
suitcase fell to the ground next to him, popping open and spilling its 
contents. Teiwaz let go of the picture of Elizabeth and Randolph, 
and it fell. For a moment, it hung in the air, before landing on 
Randolph's silent chest. 


Teiwaz stepped outside, discarding his red robes for clothes he had 
taken from Randolph's suitcase. He took a deep breath, enjoying the 
fresh air for the first time in years. He held up a small burning 
candle, and snuffed out the flame with a quick breath. The 
oppressive fog cleared as if it had never been there at all. 


Teiwaz stood alone on a hill, the castle he had inhabited a moment 
prior had vanished as if it had never been there at all. From his 
position, he could see a village down the hill, not far at all. The 
prospect of a journey to a new land sparked new life in him, to 
match his new face. He placed a hand around his amulet, feeling its 
warmth. He did not want to make this journey on an empty stomach, 
so to speak. 


The wind blew violently, cackling in glee as Teiwaz descended down 
the hill, ready to leave a trail of silent husks in his wake. 


«Chapter 1.1: Husk | Foundation Gothic | To Be Continued » 


Corvophobia 


October 19th 


Halloween was almost upon the Midwestern United States. With it 
came the changing of leaves, the propping up of foam skeletons, the 
serving of pies of various flavors, and, in the small town of Sloth's 
Pit, Wisconsin... 


"Scarecrows," Christopher Hastings exclaimed, exasperated. 
"Scarecrows! Popping up all over town! Twenty last night, another 
twenty the night before!" He groaned this as he hefted around a 
heavy-looking work bag. 


He walked past a line of scarecrows that were in the process of 
being cataloged by members of Sigma-10. "Why Scarecrows? 
Why?!" 


"Y'got me," Tristan Bailey shrugged, sipping at a paper cup of 
cocoa. This was nowhere near his department, but Hastings had 
asked him to tag along; the Bailey triplet couldn't help but wonder if 
it was just for the sake of keeping Hastings sane. This was 
technically the Department of Botany's wheelhouse, but only by a 
slim margin. "What, is this a sign of the apocalypse or somethin'?" 


"It very well might be!" Dr. Hastings took out a notepad filled with 
sketches and scribbles of the scarecrows. "Look, the positions of the 
scarecrows throughout town seem to be forming the outline of a 
pentagram— an inverted five-pointed star. | tried talking to Dr. 
Sinclair, but she didn't believe me." 


Tristan rubbed his forehead. "Chris, no offense, but every time 
something like this happens, you get riled up. You did it for the 
Christmas tree, you did it for the Thanksgivukkah turkey golems, 
you're doing it now." 


"And | was right those first two times," Hastings frowned, crossing 


his arms. "It's like you all have very selective amnesia." 


"I'm just saying, it might be a bit of Nexus Weirdness, nothing 
beyond that." He looked over the notepad. "Huh. The pattern is 
freaky, but | don't think it's a pentagram." 


"What, then?" Chris asked. 


"You're holding it at a weird angle." He snatched the notepad away 
from Hastings and rotated it a few times until he got a proper angle. 
"You're cherry-picking data points, Hastings. Probably why you're 
not a physicist." 


"What is it, then?" Chris scowled. 


"Hold on, let's see... these are both distinct segments... forming 
triangles... this is some kind of weird lightning-bolt thing— oh god." 
Tristan sighed. "Goddammit." He turned the notepad towards Chris. 


The scarecrows were appearing in the shape of a Jack-O-Lantern's 
grinning visage. 


The two of them went further into town, and came to a pause as 
they saw a scarecrow jutting horizontally out of the side of what was 
once the Vegan Buffet, now closed down due to "health and safety 
reasons"; serving human meat as vegan was certainly a health 
violation. 


Chris whistled up at it. "Well, that's something new." 


"How are ya gonna get that down?" Tristan asked. "It's a bit high for 
a ladder." 


"Fire department's probably going to take care of it," Chris frowned. 
"Still, this supports Dr. Partridge's theory that these are some kind of 
plant; it could easily be a vine organism, taking root between gaps in 
the mortar." 


"Maybe," Tristan said, looking up at it. "Hey, um. Any idea if Weiss is 
okay?" 


"Sigma-10 lost an entire six-man squad on her call. Between that 
and what happened back in March..." Chris shook his head. "Weiss 
is a tough old bird, but | think everyone has their limits." 


"Mmm," Tristan rubbed his face. "Claire's technically next in line for 
the job." 


"So, you'll move from schlupping the head of Multi-U to the director 
of a site. Bit of a downgrade," Chris snarked. 


Tristan smacked the back of his head. "Not funny." 


"Sorry," Chris laughed and rubbed his crown. "Still, seriously. 
Everyone knows about it. Just fill out the goddamn relationship 
declaration forms." 


"We do fill it out. We keep filling it out, and every time we fill it out, it 
mysteriously goes 'missing'." Tristan shook his head and tugged at 
his hair. "| think that someone in administration has it out for me. 


Probably still pissed about what Trevor did." 


"That was... literally almost half a decade ago." Chris twisted his lip. 
"Who'd have it out for your family after that long?" 


"Probably the people researching the Keter that Trev threw into a 
pocket universe. He should be an O5, not at a desk job." Tristan 
shook his head, and craned his neck up at the scarecrow. "Why am 
| here again?" 


"Because | think that these things are popping up from extra- 
dimensional space." Chris walked further with Tristan. "One of them 
popped up at Rudy's, in the storeroom. It's isolated, so that's the one 
we're going to examine." 


"Right, easy way to determine that. | have a way to do that on me. 
You just gotta look at it the right way." 


They walked further down the road, reaching Rudy's Cafe, the best 
coffee shop in all of Sloth's Pit. Starbucks couldn't hold a candle to 
its hot brews, which were always bittersweet and brewed with coffee 
ground every twenty minutes. In the latter half of the year, the hot 
chocolate served warmed the hearts of all who frequented it, 


especially if one ordered it with a shot of bourbon mixed in. 


Now, the place was vacant, due to the anomaly in the store room. 
All that was around it was a Police barricade, and in the store room, 
the scarecrow. Straw hat, straw skin, cotton clothes. 


Hastings stood back while Tristan took out a camera and adjusted 
the lens. "You, uh, hear that Pike's finally getting hitched?" 


"No foolin'?” Tristan asked, aiming his viewfinder at the scarecrow. 
"Her and Mattings? When's the wedding?" 


"February 14th next year. Mattings doesn't want to forget the 
anniversary." Chris cracked his neck. "So, what's the method of 
detecting extradimensional activity?" 


"Filter on this lens picks up exotic particles associated with objects 
crossing entropic barriers— anything that violates conservation of 
mass lights up like a Christmas tree." He handed the camera to 
Hastings and held his hand out in front of the lens; the digital display 
showed Tristan's entire hand looking like a giant, glowing yellow 
mass. "That includes people who work in Multi-U." 


"Cool." Chris grinned, which faded quickly when he looked at the 
scarecrow through the display. The scarecrow had some 
luminescence on it, but nothing to the degree of Bailey. "Huh. 
What's that mean?" 


"It's got some of the particles on it. Probably has some 
extradimensional weirdness." Tristan tapped his finger to his lips. 
"I'm gonna touch it."