The Vacation: Part 1, The Call to Misadventure

Back within the somber confines of my home, I pen these words, a weary chronicler of the harrowing expedition we barely survived. As I recount our journey, it is with a profound sense of relief mingled with trepidation, for the tale will wax in folly and hubris as this week's moon. Our departure from the Estate was born of a desperate bid to reforge the chains that bind what one might consider my family. In my exhaustion and elation from recent adventures, I made decisions that I have survived to regret. In my overconfident haste I had accepted aid when I should have waited. That is how the twins and I found ourselves leaving in the vile company of those who linger among the shadows of the state, seeking my demise.

The relentless pursuit of refilling the empty coffers of the Blytmoast Estate had consumed me, leaving little room for anything else. Deals struck in desperation, alliances forged with dubious entities, these actions had not only taken a toll on my time but on my very sanity. The Kallikantzaros of Belasica, sightless craftsmen of mystical lenses, had proven themselves as treacherous as they were brilliant. Their chaotic forges were as much a labyrinth of madness as they were a solution to my woes. Although I emerged with some measure of success, the cost was steep. I was left hollow, longing for the lost time that could have been devoted to art and study.

The battles fought to restore the Estate’s fortunes had left my thoughts in a quagmire of ancient contracts and eldritch currencies, placing creativity and wonder beyond my grasp. But more than that, I sensed an alarming disconnect, a fading thread that once gave purpose to my existence: The Nameless One. Once a guiding force, an enigmatic presence that whispered truths and shaped my path, The Nameless One had grown distant, its presence but a faint chill in the halls of my mind. My connection to this timeless entity, this cornerstone of my being, was slipping away, and with it, the promise of untold knowledge.

It wasn’t just my bond with The Nameless One that had frayed. My connection to my twins, born of my own flesh and animated by that entity’s abhorrent potential, had also withered in the shadow of my economic duties. Typhon, with his fiery temper and insatiable curiosity, had become more unpredictable, his outbursts unchecked while I was away. Oleander, ever the vivisectionist, delved deeper into necromantic arts that I had not yet explored, her discoveries both intriguing and concerning. And Kirby, my strangest, whose boundless energy and sharp mind had always brought trouble to my precious few peaceful moments, now seemed unreachable. Their inquisitiveness led them into shadows where I could no longer easily follow, namely the small passages they burrowed within the very walls of The Estate. Observing the changes in my children, I realized that my recent labors had cost more than any missed study. The power and secret wisdom promised with their creation now felt more specious than ever.

This call to calamitous misadventure came not as a grand epiphany but as a slow, creeping realization, like a centipede crawling between the sheets, until I could no longer ignore the unsettling sensation that I needed to escape the confines of my obligation and reassert the twin's roles as the keys to forbidden secrets. It was late one night, as I pored over the ancient texts and the mad, scribbled notes that cluttered my study, I happened upon a chorography detailing ancient mountains where the history of the land extends deep into the Earth’s past. It read of a peak that was a place of awe and fear, where a timeless horror dwelt, guarded by a shaman or witch or spirit for the last fifty millennia.

Reading the goblin skin pages of that tome, I formulated a plan that would not only restore my will but reforge the chains that bound the twins to me and myself to The Nameless One. A vacation, of sorts, though not one filled with the banal comforts and time wasted by idleness. No, this would be a journey into the unknown, a quest that would test the bonds I sought to repair and perhaps even reveal the true nature of my children. The necessity of having the twins with me was clear; they were likely essential to summoning my reclusive guide, and it would provide an excuse for forced prolonged proximity during which I could observe the three of them for weaknesses to exploit once we returned home.

As I prepared for the journey, I ordered Ms. Hatchet to gather her charges. She presented them; their faces were marked by a familiar trepidation, the kind that accompanies the knowledge that every journey from the Estate inevitably includes distress. I thought of my hopes that this trip would bring them closer to their potential or reveal secrets I had long sought, yet I could not ignore the significant risks involved. What if the very act of seeking The Nameless One brought them to the brink of oblivion? Could I extract the deepest secrets of reality if they were incoherent with madness? What, if anything, would I be able to learn from their corpses?

After instructing the children to ready themselves for the journey, I harbored a quiet anticipation for the revelations this expedition might yield. I dismissed the children, my mind drifting away from the immediacies of preparation towards a more self-absorbed contemplation. Lost in such reveries, I somehow failed to recall the cruelty and finality of the payments I made to my guide. Instead, I meditated on egocentric trivialities.

My sedan, Nera, was not fully recovered from her last adventure, and I needed something more secure, more capable of withstanding the journey that lay ahead. So it was that I found myself at the door of the never-invited Witch Willbreak, seeking to negotiate transportation from the foul female whose carriage was as twisted as her power. When I arrived, she was entertaining a guest; another of her accursed ilk. Thus I was introduced to Witch Lyemirror and her two unnerving homunculae, their twisted forms a testament to the dark arts that had birthed them. The little fiends watched me like dogs waiting for their mistress to finish her meal and toss the scraps onto the floor, adding to the ambiance of Willbreak’s pathetic chittering brood that lurked unseen in hidden places around the room.

Our conversation began with the strained politeness of predators circling one another, each assessing the other’s strength and intent. I initiated the exchange by suggesting an arrangement: limited access to certain Estate facilities and services, provided on a quid pro quo basis. My offer was simple yet enticing; a small but valuable concession on my part, aimed to lure her into a sense of potential gain. Witch Willbreak, her eyes gleaming with cunning, countered swiftly, proposing more extensive privileges in return for transportation.

I parried her advance with measured calm, tightening the terms of my offer, emphasizing the exclusivity of what I proposed. I feigned a slip and hinted at one of The Estate's hidden secrets but made clear that access would be strictly limited and closely monitored. My words were deliberate, crafted to remind her that while I desired her assistance, I was not without power and resources of my own.

Lyemirror, silent until now, entered the fray with a bright, fresh voice like unblemished snow concealing the gaping maw of a crevasse. She spoke of mutual interests and long-term collaboration, offering her own services in exchange for more permanent ties to the Estate's peculiar nature. Her proposition was as tempting as it was dangerous, a long-term entanglement that would undoubtedly see her influence infect my domain.

I volleyed back, acknowledging the potential benefits but pointing out the risks of such entanglements. I proposed a trial period, a temporary alliance that could be extended based on the results of our current venture. It was a move designed to keep them at bay, to satisfy their immediate desires without granting them too much power too quickly.

Willbreak and Lyemirror exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke volumes. Willbreak smiled, though it was more a baring of teeth than a gesture of warmth. She accepted my terms, and I could see in her eyes the glow of what I hoped was a mistaken sense of victory. Lyemirror inclined her head in agreement, her expression unreadable, one of her homunculae shifting slightly as if in anticipation of some future mischief.

Meanwhile, the twins had been forced into readiness by the ominous presence of Ms. Hatchet, their ruthless governess. Her powers, dark and dreadful, left little room for defiance. Typhon, his usual fiery temper quelled by a stern glance from her, grudgingly packed an assortment of arcane tools and materials. The threat of her displeasure hung heavy in the air, ensuring his compliance. Oleander, with a reluctant sneer, gathered her grim collection of instruments, her every move shadowed by the watchful eyes of Ms. Hatchet, who seemed to relish the sinister nature of the task. Kirby, typically mischievous, dared not play his usual tricks under her cold, merciless gaze. Instead, he filled his pack with items that might cause trouble later, though he did so with an edge of fear, knowing that her powers could easily turn his own mischief against him.

As they stood at the ready, there was no eagerness in their eyes, only a simmering resentment and a palpable sense of danger. Ms. Hatchet’s presence had forced them into submission, her terrible powers a constant reminder that any hint of rebellion would be swiftly and severely punished. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the twins' defiance smothered under the weight of her supernatural authority.

With the twin cowed, I introduced them to our transportation; a grotesque, enchanted carriage fashioned from the bones and sinew of Willbreak’s innumerable bastard brood, resembling a macabre, living entity, with twisted, gnarled limbs forming the frame and skulls adorning its exterior, their hollow eyes glowing faintly with dark magic. The wheels fashioned from the spines of her offspring, creaking ominously as they turn, while the carriage itself is draped in tattered, blood-stained veils that flutter as though moved by an unseen wind. It is drawn not by horses, but by a nightmarish procession of her spawn, each twisted and malformed by dark magic, bound together by chains of sinew and shadow. These creatures, part demon and part spectral pull the carriage with an unnatural speed, their pained howls filling the air as they tear through the fabric of reality itself to traverse great distances in mere moments.

Setting into our seats, I found the interior of the carriage no less inviting, with seats upholstered in the hide of her discarded family and conquered subjects with a sickly green light emanating from lanterns filled with the trapped souls of her enemies. The air inside is thick with the scent of decay and the faint whispers of curses long forgotten. As I let the ambiance of my transportation comfort me, I saw a diminutive yet fierce abomination of Willbreak’s loins whipping some of her unfortunate, wretched siblings to the front of the carriage, where they were bound to the harness while Lyemirror inflicted some strange curse upon each.

I was joined by my curious and ever-mischievous twins, Typhon, Oleander, and Kirby, Witch Willbreak and the little teamster Helly, along with her equally unpleasant ally, Witch Lyemirror and her homunculae, and we set forth. Witch Willbreak, ever the opportunist, stated her intention to rendezvous with a creature of legend and curiosity even in the most eldritch of circles on our way. I had little interest in her schemes, yet her presence, for now, was a necessary evil as this was the most expedient transportation available. Lymirror, ever prepared, revealed she had enchanted a few of Treachery’s most expendable broodlings to claw through the “unforgiving stone of the Mountains of Time,” allowing the carriage to traverse the worlds with such rapidity, though not without its dangers.

In the coming posts, I will recount the stages of our journey, each marked by its own challenges and revelations. The story will unfold in layers, much like the journey itself, each chapter revealing a new facet of the trials we faced and the transformations we underwent. So, I ask you to follow along with patience and credulity, as the tale I am about to tell is one of both wonder and terror, where the line between renewal and destruction is blurred. By the end, you may find, as I did, that this so-called family vacation was as much about suffering our place in the cosmos as it was about foolishly chasing the forces that shape our lives.