Fantasy Sanctus Hæresis

[Straw-Berry Milk]

TRIGGER WARNING​

This RPG will, without doubt, contain sensitive topics.

• MATURE CONTENT

• GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

• GRAPHIC LANGUAGE

• BAD HUMOR

Proceed at your own risk.

RPG between Oinari and Straw-Berry Milk ​

 

[Straw-Berry Milk]

JAN KOHN​

The blue irises of the man reflected the faint light that glowed from the tablet’s screen. His eyes moved from one side to the other as he looked at the horrible pictures shown there; they were not for the faint of heart. Bodies tore in half, limbs ripped out from torsos, throats so destroyed the head was barely still attached. It was a bloodbath. And unfortunately not the only one. The Institution's Romanian headquarter was located a few miles away from a small village called Marsonia. The headquarter itself was surrounded by a few acres of forest, while Marsonia was relatively close to other small towns and villages. Well . . . They could be more accurately described as ghost towns now. The severed bodies belonged to over half of the population of these towns and villages, all destroyed by wounds consistent with werewolves and vampires.

The towns were not the only ones affected, though. These creatures couldn't penetrate the HQ’s walls, but they sure could hunt agents on the field and the ones responsible for guarding the villages. With terrible losses, the Institution had to transplant agents from other HQs.

The report was in English, but Jan learned the language at a young age. He had been reassigned to Romania from his native country, the Franco-German Empire. A reasonable amount of time from one place to the other, even if the train he was in wasn't the fastest one. He was given the report a couple days earlier and had read it so many times he could recite the whole thing without looking. And yet, he was reading it one more time. There was a list of the attacks, number of casualties on each, dates, times, a brief description of the investigative work the Institution was performing and a generalized letter explaining why agents were being relocated.

The sun had set, but the sky still preserved some of its light when he arrived at the train station in Norba, the closest to HQ. Like the train, the station wasn't crowded; the recent occurrences weren't exactly inviting. He dragged his suitcase behind him and walked up to a man holding a tablet with his name, undoubtedly an agent. A brief exchange of words and they fell silent. Two other agents were sitting on a bench, one of them fast asleep with his head against the wall, the other focused on his own tablet. They had to wait for one more train. When the last agent arrived, they all walked out of the station towards a van and, finally, headed off to HQ.

Apart from the one that, as soon as they got into the van, went back to sleep, the agents started to talk, mostly about what had been happening in Romania. They were angry and disgusted by the attacks, loudly swearing to kill all these demons. Jan stared the street outside the tainted window, watching the sky fade to darkness, not wanting to be a part of that conversation. Oh, he most certainly was angry. For many reasons he was probably angrier than many of the agents, but he was also worried. Why the sudden change of behavior from the creatures? The area had been cleaned years ago, before HQ had settled. They weren’t under the impression that vampires, werewolves, and witches weren’t hiding in places nearby, but why move even closer now? It wasn’t like them to attack villages so openly and aggressively like they did. Not anymore, anyway. It was a dangerous act.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind for a moment, but it was impossible when his companions insisted on talking about the gory details of the murders.

It was late when they arrived at HQ and Jan was directed to a room with two bunk beds. In the dark, he could see silhouettes in two of the beds, so he didn’t turn on the light. He placed his suitcase next to the bed, sat on the edge and took off his shoes. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath as his mind recalled the pictures. They were as clear in the dark room as they had been on the tablet. It took him a while to relax and let go of his worries, but eventually he lay down and, not too long after, fell asleep.

~~~​

He wasn’t sure what mission would be assigned to him, but he expected to be part of the workforce to search for the new hiding places. Jan’s family had a long link with the Institution, with the men having no choice on which career to follow but to become a Knight of the Church. Since childhood he was trained to fulfill this duty, as had his father, grandfather, and all his cousins and uncles. The attacks to the Institution felt like an attack to his own family. It was personal.

The office was empty and he stood there for quite some time, waiting to see Archbishop Lucian. That was all he knew about the man, his name. With his back straight, his eyes explored the room, looking at the Archbishop's knick knacks, books and pictures. After fifteen minutes he took the liberty to sit on one of the arm chairs in front of his desk, then continued to wait. It wasn't Jan's nature to be impatient, but he was eager to know who'd be working with and what they'd do. He really hoped it would be to hunt the fuckers that killed so many of his brothers, so many innocent people. Oh, how he did.

YANA SALKO​

“Oh, shit!”

A loud noise could be heard from outside one of the bedrooms on the upper floor of the two story building. Glass shattering, a thud, and a girl's voice cursing all sorts of things. A few seconds later and someone was knocking on the door.

“Yana? Everything okay?,” the girl sounded worried.

Without an answer, she opened the door, finding the owner of the room trying to put out a small fire with a blanket. Raising her hands on the air she rushed across the room, doing gestures over the fire and murmuring something Yana couldn't understand. The fire diminished until vanishing completely, leaving black stains on the wooden table and floor. Both girls stared at them for a second before Yana raised her eyes to the girl with an embarrassed look on her face.

“What were you up to this time?” the other raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Well, I was trying to make a potion that was supposed to make this little bugs grow in size,” she reached for the desk, grabbing a jar with several beetles inside and frowning at them.

“You do know you could used a spell for that, right?”

“Of course, but that's no fun. I was experimenting with some plants that supposedly have growth hormones or whatever.” She put the jar back on the table and turned to pick up the chair. “Don’t look at me like that, Rita.”

“I'm not looking at you like anything,” her voice sounded amused.

“I can feel your judgement all the way from China,” she rolled her eyes. Yana wasn't truly annoyed at the girl. If anything she was grateful she came in to help her. “I could've put out the fire by myself, you know.”

Rita shrugged and squatted to pick up a book lying on the floor. She disinterestedly turned the pages before handing it to the dark haired girl. “I know. But then I wouldn't be able to judge you properly.”

“Funny,” Yana placed the book on the table.

“Don't set the house on fire. Or flood it. Or explode it or whatever,” she said with a tone that made it seem as if she was talking about the weather as she made her way back to the door.

“I would never do that,” she answered with feigned shock as she watched the other walk out.

The brunette stopped and stared at a curled plant on the corner that had several upside down bell shaped pitchers. She opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind.

“Be careful, Yana,” she said, shaking her head.

“It's just an innocent carnivorous plant”, the other muttered in return.

When the door clicked shut, Yana leaned closer to the pan she was doing her experiment in, looking inside to see if she could still save it. She immediately regretted it, covering her mouth and nose with her hand to protect her from the poisonous smell. With her free hand she grabbed the handle, stretching her arm as much as she could to keep it away from her. After throwing the failed option down the drain, she returned to her desk. Now she needed to review what went wrong with the first potion and find out what she needed to change.

The herb encyclopedia over her desk was old, smelly and heavy, but it was her best friend when it came to creating new potions. Once satisfied with her new findings, she made a list of ingredients, put on a coat and headed outside. She needed to go to the herbarium to get supplies for the new potion. She just hoped the girl that talks to the plants wasn't there. It's not that Yana didn't like her, they had barely even exchanged a dozen words, but she was weird – and that's saying something when you're a witch.

 

[Oinari]

RAPHAEL F. MORGAN​

A dry cough shook the man's shoulders as he covered his mouth with one hand. He was in a small sentry-box at the top of the walls that surrounded the Church's Headquarters, a few miles from Marsonia. His eyes ran over the stone building that looked nothing like a church, it was the same as looking at a high-security prison with its institutional appearance, cold grey stones, barred windows, electric fences over high walls, armed soldiers carrying AR as if it were the most common thing in a dominical building. He stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to pick up the lighter and a crumpled pack of cigarettes, pulling one out of the small package and shielding it from the wind with his hand as he lit, taking a long inhale and blew the bitter smoke through his nose. In the cold weather, the cigarette gave him a false sense of warmth, as if that was his only comfort.

He drove his hand over his face in a tired gesture that went to the dark, wavy hair, clearly in need of a chop, as they reached the base of his neck in length. But the stubble on his face was an indication that his hair would not be cut off anytime soon. Raphael had no interest in becoming yet another version of these agents that the Church has in spades. Thank you. But no thanks.

He did not even try to restrain himself when his eyes drifted from the stone building into the woods that separated the HQ from the village. Acres of trees kept Marsonia's people at easy in their ordinary little lives without even the slightest awareness of the horrors behind those walls.

For a moment, a brief, ridiculous moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if he were one of those people, living outside the post-war period: oblivious to the fact that whether or not there would still be creatures that escape human understanding, men who turn into ferocious wolves of insatiable appetite, corpses that refuse to rest and survive on the blood of the living, women with power that matches the gods of ancient myths... It is no surprise that when discovered these creatures the fragile, human mortals, did not think twice before acting. Learn from them? No way! They were a very big risk, they had to be destroyed. But people did not expect that these ancient beings had already made their way to positions of power, accumulating wealth and becoming influential enough to have entire human nations in the palm of their hands. The people had nowhere to turn, they were frightened, and a single institution stood firm, aware of all this since the Dark Ages: the Church.

The archbishop, under the High Pontiff's command, recruited soldiers who would become the armed wing of the Church, "Knights of a new crusade". Sounds pretty decent, don't you agree? It seemed right... And the war started. The casualties both on the human side and on the creatures' side today are impossible to measure, entire nations have collapsed economically, the government proved to be a failed institution, and when humans won the war because of their superior numbers, almost nothing remained. The survivors turned to the only shine hope in the midst of all that, turned to the Church. So it was no surprise to see HQ like this one scattered all over the world, it was where they brought creatures that were captured for "information gathering" before they were executed.
"Ridiculous.", he blew the smoke once again.

He knows himself well, knows that he would not be able to endure a day in a quiet village before doing something stupid and getting his nose where it was not called.
He took a deep breath, feeling the smell coming from the forest that surrounded the place, the cold wind was sharp, it had not begun to snow even though the temperature had dropped a few degrees since arriving in Romania. He had not come to this country in years, he liked to stay in the UK, there was so much to do there and the Church had not subdued the monarchy, the people still responded to the crown and that bit of 'normalcy' was comforting.
He'd blow the smoke he had inhaled, swept away from his face by the biting wind as he tried to stretch his back without further injuring the recent wounds, a 'reminder' to whom he should serve.

But today he was not thinking about himself, at least not that much, his mind was at the files he read before arriving in Norba's train station, the bodies, all those deaths. Raphael finished his cigarette before going back inside, already late for the meeting with the archbishop and whoever was the poor bastard who was assigned to work with him this time. At the main hall, he met Archbishop Lucian himself but remained silent until the wooden doors were opened revealing the office and this bloke who looked like someone out from one of the Church flyers about how an agent is supposed to look like.

NASTYA NIKOLAYEVNA​

Pale lilac eyes looked like big, glassy circles behind slightly weird specs, giving the delicate face a quite loony air while the small girl pursed her lips looking at some flowers who looked remarkable as lily of the valley, however, what set those flowers apart was the faint glow they had, some of this glowy substance was on the girl's pale hands, face and even on the white hair falling out of the messy bun on top of her head, "It's almost done...", she was clearly talking to herself, straightening her posture and wiping her hands on the fabric of her dress, the light touching the pollen-like substance and reflecting hues of purple, gold and lavender blue. Nastya was reaching for her notebook so she could take some notes about her newest creation when she heard the whistling from the kitchen. Her big eyes looked even more protuberant behind the specs when she remembered about the kettle on the stove.
She ran to the kitchen, afraid of destroying another room by accident (she's already sleeping in the tub because somehow she managed to flood her bedroom while experimenting with a new spell), read as carelessness, "Bloody kettle deciding to whistle by itself as if I already didn't have enough to do at the herbarium...", yeah... She was blaming the poor kettle when she was the one who forgot it when the stove was lit, "The Faerie Lilies are finally done and you here... Distracting me from taking notes...", she was still mumbling to herself.

The white-haired girl, who was now glowing in curious colours depending on the light, poured two cups of tea and started looking around for some biscuits she baked the other day. They do not look the most appetizing (who in their right mind -besides Nastya- would think of mandrake shaped biscuits as appetizing for God's sake?), put everything on a tray and walked back to the room where she took care of her herbs, flowers and some experiments. She put one of the teacups in front of this particularly peculiar flower pot, some of the roots sprouting to outside the pot like odd, chubby little legs awkwardly trying to reach the top of the table where the albino girl placed the flowerpot.

Before the person outside could even knock, the old door creaked open, as if it was the most common thing to do, the weird part? Nastya barely expressed surprise by the oddness of her home. An old two-storey cottage with walls covered in ivy and small windows, "Oh... Don't mind me... The house has a mind of itself.", she said without looking at the person standing on her doorway, acting as if it was normal a small albino girl covered in some pollen-like substance that glows in a large hue of morning sky colours having tea with some strange plant whose chubby roots were trying to grab the teacup handle, "Lemme help you, Mr Butterworth...", she said to the plant helping it to grab the handle and watching as it poured the content in his soil, "He likes black better, you know...", she said finally looking at the girl still standing on her doorway, "You should get inside, it gets really cold if you keep the door open like that.", the way she said it seemed like the brunette was the one who opened the door and not the house that is really old.

"Come inside, I have biscuits."