Silent Knight
1
So for anyone who has been looking forward to another monster girl story, sorry you had to wait. Hopefully the story BigLundi is writing did you just fine, because I certainly thought it was better than anything I’ll manage to write for the time being.
I’ve had a case of writers block (AKA Mass Effect 3 demo) for the last week, but I finally decided to hell with it when I decided on my next monster girl. Actually inspired by Lundi’s description and magical disposition of the Fae, it reminded me of the land of my ancestors; perhaps one of the most well known countries with a history of magical lore, Ireland. I will not divulge who the next monster girl is, as that would ruin the mystery.
And as I always want to try new things when it comes to writing, I decided to mix things up a bit with this story and write it in journal style.
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August 17th
I’ve received a friendly letter from my cousin in the tropics. He and his wife are doing well. Though it would seem he is doing better than she is, he having beaten her out in the local wrestling competition. More to the point, he and I have finally worked out our arrangement for shipments of his new chemical to be delivered to my precinct for trials. He asks that I not dig in to where he gets it from, but given the nature of his wife, I didn’t really have to think hard about it.
On a more serious note, I just got done fishing out some poor soul from the River Liffey. We’re running fingerprints on him now, and the search is on for the man’s head. Given that the body was found almost a mile into the channel, it’s likely we’ll never find it. Flynn says he has a bad feeling about this case, and that in turn has gotten the whole office in a stir. Last time Flynn had a †˜feeling’, we spent three months combing all of Ireland for some lunatic who’d been nailing small fairies to doors of private residences. All 37 of them died, destroying fairies wings is akin to slicing a human’s throat, and it was never a pretty sight. Fortunately for us, we finally caught him down in Waterford. Judge gave the sick fuck the death penalty, and we threw ourselves a little party for the occasion.
Got to go pick up Evelyn from school in a few minutes, she’s been feeling a bit ill lately so I’m gonna drop her off at the Lamia McAlister’s place and see what she can do for her. It’s probably just a touch of the flu, but I still can’t help but worry. She’s all I have left now.
August 21st
Testing on the paralyzing agent from my cousin has shown promise, and I truly have to hand it to him; chemical induced total paralysis in lab mice within 5 seconds, and all mice subjected to the test regained %85 of mobility within 20 minutes of incapacitation. Complete recovery achieved within one hour. Authorization to begin trials on lab monkeys is likely to be passed by Friday tomorrow.
Prints came in from our John Doe. His name was Victor Fratelen, a well-to-do man who worked at a small town bank in nearby Kildare. No wife, no kids, and his only sister died years ago. Given that he had no wallet on him at the time, it was likely a robbery gone bad, or the killer simply decided to take what he had after he loped his head off. Forensics is still determining what exactly was used to sever his head, but whatever it was must have been extremely sharp. They say it might take a little bit longer to ID the weapon, so I’ll take Flynn down to Kildare with me tomorrow and see what I can stir up about this Victor guy.
Evelyn turned out to just have a normal cold according to the McAlisters. I had figured as much, but it never hurt to be careful. Still, it’s impressive how quickly the herbs Andrew and that snake woman of his cure whatever you come to them with. It’s likely some family secret that’s been passed down in her family for a long time; her kind has always been the mighty clever sort. I can’t help but be a little jealous of that Andrew sometimes. The wife’s smarts are as sharp as her looks.
Really makes me miss Lora, but don’t go expecting me to cry about her again. I’ve long since come to terms with her passing…at least I like to think so. Looking back at my older entries I can’t seem to help mention her in one way or another each time.
At least I’ve got my Evelyn.
I’ve had a case of writers block (AKA Mass Effect 3 demo) for the last week, but I finally decided to hell with it when I decided on my next monster girl. Actually inspired by Lundi’s description and magical disposition of the Fae, it reminded me of the land of my ancestors; perhaps one of the most well known countries with a history of magical lore, Ireland. I will not divulge who the next monster girl is, as that would ruin the mystery.
And as I always want to try new things when it comes to writing, I decided to mix things up a bit with this story and write it in journal style.
__________________________________________________________________
August 17th
I’ve received a friendly letter from my cousin in the tropics. He and his wife are doing well. Though it would seem he is doing better than she is, he having beaten her out in the local wrestling competition. More to the point, he and I have finally worked out our arrangement for shipments of his new chemical to be delivered to my precinct for trials. He asks that I not dig in to where he gets it from, but given the nature of his wife, I didn’t really have to think hard about it.
On a more serious note, I just got done fishing out some poor soul from the River Liffey. We’re running fingerprints on him now, and the search is on for the man’s head. Given that the body was found almost a mile into the channel, it’s likely we’ll never find it. Flynn says he has a bad feeling about this case, and that in turn has gotten the whole office in a stir. Last time Flynn had a †˜feeling’, we spent three months combing all of Ireland for some lunatic who’d been nailing small fairies to doors of private residences. All 37 of them died, destroying fairies wings is akin to slicing a human’s throat, and it was never a pretty sight. Fortunately for us, we finally caught him down in Waterford. Judge gave the sick fuck the death penalty, and we threw ourselves a little party for the occasion.
Got to go pick up Evelyn from school in a few minutes, she’s been feeling a bit ill lately so I’m gonna drop her off at the Lamia McAlister’s place and see what she can do for her. It’s probably just a touch of the flu, but I still can’t help but worry. She’s all I have left now.
August 21st
Testing on the paralyzing agent from my cousin has shown promise, and I truly have to hand it to him; chemical induced total paralysis in lab mice within 5 seconds, and all mice subjected to the test regained %85 of mobility within 20 minutes of incapacitation. Complete recovery achieved within one hour. Authorization to begin trials on lab monkeys is likely to be passed by Friday tomorrow.
Prints came in from our John Doe. His name was Victor Fratelen, a well-to-do man who worked at a small town bank in nearby Kildare. No wife, no kids, and his only sister died years ago. Given that he had no wallet on him at the time, it was likely a robbery gone bad, or the killer simply decided to take what he had after he loped his head off. Forensics is still determining what exactly was used to sever his head, but whatever it was must have been extremely sharp. They say it might take a little bit longer to ID the weapon, so I’ll take Flynn down to Kildare with me tomorrow and see what I can stir up about this Victor guy.
Evelyn turned out to just have a normal cold according to the McAlisters. I had figured as much, but it never hurt to be careful. Still, it’s impressive how quickly the herbs Andrew and that snake woman of his cure whatever you come to them with. It’s likely some family secret that’s been passed down in her family for a long time; her kind has always been the mighty clever sort. I can’t help but be a little jealous of that Andrew sometimes. The wife’s smarts are as sharp as her looks.
Really makes me miss Lora, but don’t go expecting me to cry about her again. I’ve long since come to terms with her passing…at least I like to think so. Looking back at my older entries I can’t seem to help mention her in one way or another each time.
At least I’ve got my Evelyn.
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
oneshott wrote...
Xenon wrote...
Guess I'll have to +rep your's now.I don't think that's really necessary.
Consider it necessary now that you've done something to deserve it (especially with that ME3 reference). However, now that you had brought up the Irish culture, and in journal form, this reminded me of playing this older game 'Clive Barker's Undying.' If you haven't heard of it, it was a great horror adventure FPS that I suggest looking into, if just for the story. It revolved around this Irish man, Patrick Galloway, on his quest investigating the occult and murders of this prominent family post WWI.
Anyway, I look forward to seeing the next entries.
0
August 22nd
It seems Flynn will have to go down to Kildare without me, Evelyn is sick again. I was troubled to see a cure provided by the McAlisters prove to be ineffective, but Andrew admitted that the symptoms of a cold are common to a great many diseases, and it was possible they provided the wrong treatment. He assured me that they would take a second look at Evelyn at no extra charge. He seemed to view it more as a matter of pride than doing it as an apology; his streak as a perfectionist follows him even years after I graduated school with him. Evelyn will stay with them until she gets better. I was a bit apprehensive at first, but she warmed up to his wife right away, and she seemed to be very good with children anyway.
Being confident that she was in good hands, I decided that it had been too long since my last glass of whiskey and hit up my favorite pub. The Twisted Root was run by some very pretty elves, whose practice of making alcohol had not changed for the 1200 years they’ve been making it. If only I could look that good if I ever hit 1200. Fortunate for them and unfortunately for the lonely young men who wandered in the pub looking for more than just a drink, the family who ran the pub could likely beat the daylights out of any human without even blinking an eye. No one has ever tried to pull a move on any of the elves since a man named Sean got a little too forceful on one of the younger elves and ended up with every bone in his inebriated body broken. To avoid a lawsuit, the elves eventually healed him. They even created a new drink in his honor; The Sean Bomb. I think they touch it up with a bit of magic, as anyone who drinks the whole shot is, without fail, instantly knocked on their ass from the strength of it. After Sean recovered, he always got a Sean Bomb for free, if ever he asked for one.
But I was not so depressed today that I needed to get my snot knocked out by some magic drink. No, today would just be a few shots of whiskey and maybe a small pint of something else. I took my usual seat at the bar, and was greeted warmly by the eldest elf. She’d been the one to coax me out of the months of depression following the death of my Lora…always making sure I at least didn’t drown myself in the liquor. We exchanged our usual pleasantries, and I let her know how Evelyn was doing. She too shared my sentiment of how stubborn Andrew could be, and that he had found a wife that was just as stubborn as he. The two were born for each other, even if she was born a hundred years before him the old elf told me. I myself never really saw the age difference, but these inhuman women seemed to age much better than us normal folk. Lora always envied them, despite my constant fawning over her own gorgeous looks.
I ended up on my 3rd shot of fire before something unusual happened. Not unusual as in someone came jumping through a window, but unusual as in there was a woman who caught my eye. In the 6 years since the death of my Lora, I had not even thought of another woman. I initially took her for an elf, given how young she looked and the quaint style in which she dressed, but the eldest elf did not recognize her but again shared my sentiments; neither of us had ever seen a more brilliant set of red hair in our lives, which spoke more volumes from the old elf as she had been around since before the Normans came.
I did not realize it at the time, but as I think back I now realize that she caught no other eyes in the pub. It was as though only I had seen her, truly seen her. I immediately dismissed myself for the night, not wishing to make a mistake should my inhibitions become unhinged by the lubrication of whiskey.
Still, she has not left my mind since.
My Lora, please forgive me.
It seems Flynn will have to go down to Kildare without me, Evelyn is sick again. I was troubled to see a cure provided by the McAlisters prove to be ineffective, but Andrew admitted that the symptoms of a cold are common to a great many diseases, and it was possible they provided the wrong treatment. He assured me that they would take a second look at Evelyn at no extra charge. He seemed to view it more as a matter of pride than doing it as an apology; his streak as a perfectionist follows him even years after I graduated school with him. Evelyn will stay with them until she gets better. I was a bit apprehensive at first, but she warmed up to his wife right away, and she seemed to be very good with children anyway.
Being confident that she was in good hands, I decided that it had been too long since my last glass of whiskey and hit up my favorite pub. The Twisted Root was run by some very pretty elves, whose practice of making alcohol had not changed for the 1200 years they’ve been making it. If only I could look that good if I ever hit 1200. Fortunate for them and unfortunately for the lonely young men who wandered in the pub looking for more than just a drink, the family who ran the pub could likely beat the daylights out of any human without even blinking an eye. No one has ever tried to pull a move on any of the elves since a man named Sean got a little too forceful on one of the younger elves and ended up with every bone in his inebriated body broken. To avoid a lawsuit, the elves eventually healed him. They even created a new drink in his honor; The Sean Bomb. I think they touch it up with a bit of magic, as anyone who drinks the whole shot is, without fail, instantly knocked on their ass from the strength of it. After Sean recovered, he always got a Sean Bomb for free, if ever he asked for one.
But I was not so depressed today that I needed to get my snot knocked out by some magic drink. No, today would just be a few shots of whiskey and maybe a small pint of something else. I took my usual seat at the bar, and was greeted warmly by the eldest elf. She’d been the one to coax me out of the months of depression following the death of my Lora…always making sure I at least didn’t drown myself in the liquor. We exchanged our usual pleasantries, and I let her know how Evelyn was doing. She too shared my sentiment of how stubborn Andrew could be, and that he had found a wife that was just as stubborn as he. The two were born for each other, even if she was born a hundred years before him the old elf told me. I myself never really saw the age difference, but these inhuman women seemed to age much better than us normal folk. Lora always envied them, despite my constant fawning over her own gorgeous looks.
I ended up on my 3rd shot of fire before something unusual happened. Not unusual as in someone came jumping through a window, but unusual as in there was a woman who caught my eye. In the 6 years since the death of my Lora, I had not even thought of another woman. I initially took her for an elf, given how young she looked and the quaint style in which she dressed, but the eldest elf did not recognize her but again shared my sentiments; neither of us had ever seen a more brilliant set of red hair in our lives, which spoke more volumes from the old elf as she had been around since before the Normans came.
I did not realize it at the time, but as I think back I now realize that she caught no other eyes in the pub. It was as though only I had seen her, truly seen her. I immediately dismissed myself for the night, not wishing to make a mistake should my inhibitions become unhinged by the lubrication of whiskey.
Still, she has not left my mind since.
My Lora, please forgive me.