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Kind's Journal
Maikendo
Downtime
"Defeat Maikendo" "It is of the upmost importance" Epilogue
Epilogue:
After is always so exhausting—after the work, the rituals, the robbery, the blood. This is no different, really. Except that I feel something different, like miniature suns going nova in my cells. The sense of the solid world, the mystic world, the veil had not been torn exactly, but expanded and opened.
This changes everything.
As I sit, the strange game console now safely set on a shelf for further exploration, I feel the depths of my mind unmooring and opening. It's as if the simple motes of dust in the light catch something vibrant and begin to glow. Many of the books—though not all—along with some of the objects, amulets, masks, and more, swirl with a sort of radiance, forming their unique sigils, their signatures. I feel them—the names, the pentacles of those spirits, Djinn, Daemon, or demon, pulsing and drawing my attention. Even the spirits within some of the tomes seem to have a need to be read, to be pulled open and spill into the world.
I reach my hand toward the nearest grimoire, playing my fingers above its skin-like cover. The motes react, growing in intensity. I can almost hear the voices—the offers, demands, promises, and threats. Every seal seems like a way to contact, to command, and broker deals if the old rituals are correct. Perhaps I will become a sort of devil's advocate. Maybe I won't need to continue my nighttime pursuits. Perhaps slipping unnoticed into collections of antiquity is no longer necessary? I muse to myself, wondering if I will miss the work. No, I'm sure there will always be a reason. As a contractor, my specialized skills will still be useful and necessary. I'll stay sharp. I'll grow my powers and influence, broker my deals, and bring a little constructive chaos to this world.
After resting and exploring these new forces, perhaps I should delve into Maikendo and see what else I may gain.
Highway to Heaven
Downtime
Po boys and po girls
“You have three objectives, and three stipulations. Follow the I-49 from Texarkana, Texas to Lafayette, Louisiana. Until you reach Lafayette, you may not leave the confines of the white lines for any reason. Say a prayer over the ingredients beneath the arch in Hope Lodge No. 145. You must utter this prayer before sunrise. Deliver the ingredients to Chris’ Po Boy, and order a bowl of gumbo. You must finish your meal in one sitting, and offer your compliments to the chef.”
Daily Kind sits in the static pixelated glow of the monitors, his bruised ribs aching as he navigates through forum boards and posts. With a cold tumbler of whiskey pressed against his throbbing skull, he scrolls past hateful and ignorant comments from those aligned with "The Sons of Salem." It makes him sick to his stomach, which is made all the worse from the injuries on route to Lafayette. The pain he feels is akin to being repeatedly run over by a truck—only it's far worse than that.
On another screen, Daily delves into mentions of accidents and incidents along Route I-49, hoping to find information about his companions who weren't as fortunate as he was, as well as any further connections to "The Sons" by the authorities. A third screen displays processes and cameras for his business, with tabs open for pending orders of a personal nature and client communications, “a few new suit and coats to be ordered, if you please”.
Two overcoats in the similar fashion as the suits. One more suit with higher armor value.
Hoodie with enlarged hood and defensible carbon plating in key locations including forearm's, track style pocketed pants to match, "night running". Concealed picks etc. in stitching concealed pockets, wrist, interior etc.
Additionally in a more conventionally tab the purchase of a higher end 3D printer, receipted and shipping information confirmed.
"I may need a few more technical items" Kind continues to ponder though his mind is elsewhere with the presence palpable in the circle of candles.
Meanwhile, his Zebra XSLATE tablet pulls data from a web-based SQL crawler on Dantalionomicon.org, a dark web resource compiling information on "The Integration of Immortal Beings," attributed to the obscure occult author, Martinez de Pasqually.
"Hmm, the need for allies is paramount," Daily muses, the newfound power pulsating within him. The swirling darkness beyond the screens seems to respond, candles flickering in an orchestrated order. "Yes, allies are essential, and the bargain struck will benefit us both."
With some effort due to his injuries, Daily rises and enters the prepared area, opening a small book to the appropriate seal and beginning his ritual. the seal glows immediately...
After securing Paimon's acquiescence, Mr. Kind limps back to the screens, facing several days, perhaps weeks, of rest and research ahead. "Maybe their senses extend beyond this room, this building," he wonders about the creatures he's summoned. He will rest, heal, and, if possible, seek information about his fallen companions and summon and exert his revenge, in time, but first whiskey.. and rest.
Hey Hey, Ewe Ewe
Downtime
OWL - The Occult Wildlife Landing
The Occult Wildlife Landing (OWL) is a nonprofit organization that advocates for the rights of supernatural creatures to live a life unmolested by humanity’s relentless spread and greed.
While OWL has become the de-facto head of the conservationist movement in the United States, many claim it’s not as innocent as it appears. A number of small, seemingly-disconnected terrorist cells wear the OWL insignia with pride. These groups– which tend to contain a disproportionate number of supernatural creatures and beings– commit high-profile acts of public violence with the intent of furthering OWL’s core objectives. In the past, they’ve blown up oil pipelines, stopped development projects, and even infected congregations of people with mutagenic viruses.
OWL denies any involvement with these so-called “OWL-inspired terrorist organizations” (or OITOs for short). However, many people conflate the two and consider OWL itself to be a terrorist organization.
One thing is for certain: when OWL sends a blast to its followers urging protest, they’re taken seriously.