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(Hush)Vita savior's Journal
Ashes to ashes
Downtime
For the Dogs
Downtime
🔞
Hey Hey, Ewe Ewe
Downtime
Vita and I are back in South America, trekking through the untamed wilderness, our banter as lively as ever. Amid a mild argument over our next route, Vita tripped unexpectedly on a hidden root. In that split second, she found herself face-to-face with a venomous snake, its fangs glistening as it poised for a strike. Just as the bite seemed imminent, a portal of shadowy energy burst forth from Vita, and out stepped a towering, goat-headed figure we now call Azazal. Without a word, he lunged, destroying the snake in one swift, decisive motion.
The silence that followed was heavy with confusion. Vita, ever the adventurer with a flair for the dramatic, laughed with relief and immediately introduced our new companion into the fold. I—Bapha—remained more cautious, still questioning whether such an occurrence was normal for her. Azazal offered no words in return, his presence speaking volumes. In that moment, despite the chaos and mystery swirling around us, he became an undeniable part of our little family. Vita’s unabashed affection for him warmed the moment, while I resolved to keep a closer eye on the unpredictable forces that seem to follow her wherever we wander.
The Serbian Gamble
Downtime
Project: Wormwood
Downtime
Echoes of a Broken Day
Downtime
After the chaos in Germany and the bizarre events of time-traveling contracts, Bapha, the gang, and I finally found a moment of reprieve deep in the South American wilderness. Amid the lush foliage and soft murmur of distant waterfalls, we set up camp in a clearing that radiated calm. While Bapha and the others busied themselves gathering firewood and scouting the area, I wandered off for a breath of solitude.
In a quiet glen, my eyes caught the gleam of something silver nestled among the ferns. Drawn to its allure, I reached down and discovered a delicate earring with intricate dragon motifs. As soon as it brushed against my skin, it transformed—curling gracefully around my ear and unfurling into a small, silver dragon. I instantly named him Zephyros. With a subtle shiver of magic, Zephyros wrapped around my arm, releasing playful, icy blasts that shimmered in the light.
Bapha and the rest of the gang soon joined me, their faces lighting up in amazement. In that magical moment, Zephyros wasn’t just an artifact or a weapon—he became a friend and a promise of fiery precision in our next wild adventure.
The Sons of Salem
We swear to secure our people against the wickedness and evil of the invisible world.
We swear to aid the afflicted.
We swear to stay ever vigilant and seek out the abominable witchcrafts committed in this country.
We humbly pray to be blessed by God to hold all those who consort with the Devil accountable. Amen
—Opening and closing prayer for Sons of Salem meetings.
The Sons of Salem is a loosely-organized conservative populist movement in the United States that preaches violent opposition to anything they perceive as witchcraft, demonic, or monstrous.
Blowhard podcaster Ted Gundy and former general of the mercenary group “Hognose,” Roland Rush, founded the movement in 2010 after a series of violent werewolf attacks and unexplained, supernatural murders in Tennessee. Memberships grew quickly, stoked by Ted’s fiery doomsday rhetoric on his podcast "Truth Seekers" and the aspiration of the masculine power embodied by Roland.
Although they speak of duty, honor, and maintaining the “natural order” of things, the Sons of Salem are driven by fear. They collect guns and appear at protests en-masse as a way of easing the all-consuming terror of their powerlessness. At the same time, they have conditioned themselves to respond to fear with “strength” (read: violence).