Valknar
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NM - Chapter 53
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 08:55:12 +0000 UTCAfter the fall of Havana, the U.S. Army spread across the island, trying to take the last strongholds of those who opposed them. The island was now working against them. The land was mountainous with a coastline, and jungle dominated large tracks of open space.
The Cuban army, while disorganised after losing Havana, was still fighting.
“Our brave boys in their blue-grey uniforms fought against the Cubans in their dirty khaki along the hillside.”
That one line in an article about the conflict caught my attention. It seemed that the US military did not adopt the khaki uniforms that the British were using at this time. They instead went for a blue-grey combination. I wondered what that looks like. Was it some form of combination of the Union and Rebel colour schemes from the Civil War?
I discovered that reading the paper at night and thinking about it during the day was another sign of the differences between the two worlds. I have seen other smaller ones scattered about, and many others through the events happening worldwide. I knew it was only a matter of time before the changes in this one would make my understanding of history irrelevant.
This both concerned and excited me. What will this become?
I was on top of my spatial bubble, looking out across the world, when I noticed something strange through the trees. At first, I thought it was just a vehicle travelling together, but then I realised it was a convoy. Eventually, I saw more brightly coloured wagons and many exotic animals walking beside them. I saw a few giraffes, elephants, and a few other examples of the animal kingdom. As they passed from the forest to the ford to cross the river, I realised it was some form of circus or carnival.
“Well, that is new.”
It took over an hour for them to cross the river and travel over the ridge to Crossway.
Killer clowns.
The thought popped into my head as the last of the wagons crossed out of my sight. How clichéd would that be if I got a clown from that troupe that turned out to be some form of mass killer? I couldn’t rule out the possibility, knowing all the tropes that came attached to clowns in horror movies.
Honestly, I didn’t want a killer clown.
I found the idea of clowns rather tacky and not very creative. However, I knew that many people suffered from a phobia of clowns and that they helped undermine people mentally.
But no, I did not want to clown.
The day passed and little else happened, but I saw a stronger glow over the ridge line that night, and I think the troupe had set up their attractions there.
Three days later, early in the morning, a rider approached the gates just as dawn arrived.
I had just emerged from the church for the day when I noticed them as I reached the top of the spatial bubble. I shifted down to the gates to get a better view of who was approaching.
I suspected my newest Hunter had arrived.
I watched the man as he dismounted from the horse, followed by a donkey carrying some heavy loads. He was quite the… peculiar fellow.
He was tall—I would say 6 feet 6 or 7 inches—and thin. His body proportions seem strange due to his thinness. He looked like he had been stretched and wasn’t natural. His arms were as long as his body, and his legs were longer. His head and hands were slightly larger than average.
I looked at him and had a flashback to an image of the slender man I had seen in a book or horror film. He was wearing a suit, but not a usual one; it was a complete black-tie ensembles, like he was about to attend a dinner party or go to the theatre. And yes, he had the full stovepipe black hat, making him seem taller.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t covered in much dust, and what little he was quickly brushed off. He left his horse far from the gates and brought up the donkey. What was on the back of this animal made me sure that he was a Hunter.
There were two large trunks tied to each side of the animal, which it laboured with, along with the two bound and gagged young children slung over the top of it. The two girls were twin sisters, aged eight or nine. Both were unconscious, but their eyes were red from crying.
“I bloody hope they’re not locals.”
I said to myself as the man approached the gates holding a rope tied to the donkey. He had produced a walking cane and was now confidently striding into the courtyard. He walked up to the plinth and read the inscription upon it. It was here that I got a very good close look at him.
He had gaunt features, pale skin, and a black pencil moustache. His eyes were black, and his hair was equally as dark. He smiled at what he had read upon the stone, and his smile changed the nature of his face. It made him far less intimidating and more pleasant to look upon.
He turns north and leaves the courtyard, leading the donkey.
[Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!]
“I gathered that.”
I watched him as he made his way through the graveyard maze. He walked with a strange focus on the church and seemed unaffected by the twists and turns, always heading in the right direction. It took him about 40 minutes to make his way through the maze and reach the church.
He walked straight up to the church doors and opened them. The donkey he had led was still behind him. He dropped the rope they used to guide the animal and walked to the side of it, lifting the children from its back.
This woke them up, and they started whimpering. They squirmed as best they could to escape, but were too well tied and secured. He showed remarkable strength, carrying both under his arms and his cane into the church and walking directly towards the altar.
I looked at the donkey outside, hoping it wouldn’t eat my flowers. I moved back to observe the new Hunter.
Once before, he placed them onto the floor. He wasn’t rough but methodical. Here, he removed his hat. He walked back and put it on the pews. He walked back to the altar, and the children knew that something was about to happen. They tried to escape by swirling more and dragging themselves along the stone.
I knew what was about to happen. I wasn’t happy about it, and my hands were tied.
To seal the contract, the Hunter had to supply the blood and life of another as a sacrifice.
He pulled off one of the white gloves from his hand. It was not as clean as it once was, and he seemed to frown slightly at that. He reached out his hand and placed it upon the altar.
[Potential Hunter: Alister Harrington. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers two sacrifices to you.]
[Do you accept: Yes or No?]
“Yes.”
Distant still, my emotional side was unhappy and was letting me know about it. My conscience was muffled but not completely silenced.
My vision shifted slightly as both sides accepted the contract.
With a smile, the man approached the two girls and produced a knife from his dinner jacket. It was long and thin, more like a stiletto than a flat blade.
He knelt next to them and turned them to face him, and with graceful strikes, he ended both their lives. He drove the long blade up through their necks under their jaws into their heads, silencing them quickly. There was little blood from each wound.
I had honestly expected something a bit more brutal and bloodier.
[A Hunter has made a Kill.]
[A Hunter has made a Kill.]
I summoned my avatar as my new Hunter stood up from his kills. He had an almost euphoric look on his face. Seeing me, he regains control of his emotions.
“I greet you, Alister Harrington. I am the Keeper, and I run this place.”
“I greet you, Keeper. " He went to tip his hat, but remembered that he wasn’t wearing it as he reached for it. “I thank you for taking me in.”
“Come. I will show you where you will now live and explain the rules of this place.”
He quickly followed me as I turned and walked away. I knew he reached over and grabbed his hat from the pew as we passed.
“What of the bodies?” He asked as we walked.
“You shall return a little later and bury them.”
“I understand.” His stride was slightly longer than mine, and he quickly caught up with me and walked parallel, now wearing his hat.
“Were they local children?”
“No. I acquired them from the last town we visited and hid them in my wagon until I needed them.” He assured me. We left the church, and he took hold of the reins of his donkey once more. I led him from the central ring back into the graveyard. The donkey had not eaten my flowers.
“Will the parents not suspect that someone from your troupe stole them away?”
“I left a false trail indicating they were swept away in a river. We were already nearly a day away before I took them.” He seemed very proud of his misdirection.
“Good to know. I don’t want any more attention drawn here than is required.”
He nodded at my words, and I explained the dungeon's basic rules, what was required of him, and what he would get in return. I never explained the rules of the Hunter to him, as they were part of the contract he had accepted, just the additional ones that I had imposed.
He was far more conversational than my other hunters, asking questions and clarifications as we walked. I decided to ask a few questions to see what I can learn from him.
“What was your role in the carnival?”
He smiled at my question. “I was a great magician! The magnificent Harrington!”
He stopped as he spoke, struck a pose, and produced the card deck from somewhere, revealing it to me. I stopped to watch as he performed a few simple card and sleight-of-hand magic tricks. I was interested in seeing his character sheet and wondered what skills he possessed. I had not been able to look at it yet, as I needed to get him situated first.
“A stage magician. Well, you are a first for me and this place. Who knows, with some luck and concentration, might develop real magic.”
My words caused him to pause and think about what I had said. He looked at me with a surprised and hopeful look. Now, that was wrong; the look was one of hunger.
“I could develop true magic?” He asked, and I was sure now that the look was one of hunger.
“It is possible, yes. Look around you, what here falls within the realms of the natural?”
I didn't know if I was telling the truth, but I didn’t feel bad about it at all.
“Then the dreams were true with their promises.” He looked around wistfully.
“Oh? Tell me about them.”
“For many years, I have dreamt of this place. I’ve always come to the gates of my dreams, and they were closed. I tried to open them but was told by some force or voice that I couldn't fully understand that it was not yet time. I knew that if I passed beyond these gates and was accepted, all my dreams would become reality, and I would gain much in return for my service. Then, a few months ago, the dreams changed, and the gates opened, and I flew across this graveyard in my dreams and understood what I was required to do to earn my place here.”
We continued walking and I realised we were close to where I planned to house him.
“Did you tell anyone else of your dreams?”
“No. But as a young man, I visited a sanatorium and encountered a strange man who spoke of this place too and that his dreams always brought him to the gates. That is when I started putting more stock in the dream and what it offered.”
“When was this?”
“Fifteen years ago, now. I was visiting my mother, who was placed there for her safety. I remember one of the guards mentioning that it was odd that several inmates there had the dream. Some claim to be called to live here while others said they were called to test themselves.” He spoke with a distant look, recalling that place.
“Interesting.”
This brief conversation highlighted how the Hunters were drawn to my Dungeon and the challenges it presented.
“Well, here we are.”
We stopped outside a mausoleum that had been chosen in advance for the first of the Hunters to arrive. I had recently decided on the second and awaited the next Hunter to appear.
“The service building, as you see, has one main room and two side. You also find a series of underground chambers where most of the other Hunters live in. How you arrange the rooms is up to you, and I will not access your lair without permission. But remember what happens in this area is your business, but if it impacts the rest of the Dungeon, it becomes mine, and I will not be happy about that.”
He nods at my words as I reinforce the rules to him.
“I have a few potbelly stoves lying around if you want to add one and additional materials to create a chimney. You will have to do that work yourself.”
“Very kind of you, Keeper. I will place my trunks in this building, my new home. What should I do with the donkey and the horse outside?” He asked.
“There is a homestead nearby belonging to the Driver family. They also work for me and are not to be harmed, even if they accidentally trigger the Dungeon. Any Hunter harming them will face punishment.”
“I understand. I will change my clothes and then bury the two offerings. As anywhere in particular, do you want me to put them?” He was now angling the donkey to be tied up next to the building so he could offload the two heavy trunks still attached to it.
“No. Find two empty grave plots. They can be identified by the fact that the gravestones are blank, and the bodies are buried there; the Dungeon will take care of the rest. I will show you where some shovels are.”
I can see you have more questions about that, but I have decided to remain silent right now.
“Over time, I will introduce you to the other Hunters. But I shall warn you now, they are not a very sociable lot and generally view each other with great hostility.”
“I understand.”
“Finally, I will assign you a hunting ground soon. A large section in the north of the Dungeon never changes as a hunting ground. I cannot stress this enough. Do. Not Enter. It Without. Me.”
“I take it there is some great danger there?” He asked, looking up from untying one of the trunks.
“Yes. A spirit haunts that area, and it’s not too friendly.”
“A spirit! Like a ghost?” He asks rather excitedly.
“Yes.”
“What is the worst you could actually do; haunt me?” He seemed rather amused by that statement.
“No, she will use your entrails to decorate the local gravestones in her hunting grounds.”
That ends all humour in the conversation. He looks at me somewhat sceptically but quickly accepts that I am telling him the truth. I leave him to sort out his trunks, which have now been disconnected from the donkey he brought with him. There were large, high-quality travelling trunks containing a considerable amount of his personal possessions.
While he’s doing this, I look at this character sheet.
Hunter Name Alister Harrington
Level 1
Kills 2/5
Loyalty Neutral
Skills
Sleight of Hand. VIII
Deception. V
Acting. V
Blades. IV
Swordsmanship. III
Dark Traits
Child Killer.
Child Killer.
It makes sense that I’m not one hundred percent happy with this one. I’m more tolerant of the sadistic rapist within my Hunter group.
His skills are interesting. Being a stage magician, it made sense. The last one was unique among all the fighting skills I’ve seen.
“Swordsmanship.”
He looks up from what he’s doing and smiles. He reaches down and picks up his walking cane, and with the flick of the top, he pulls it apart, revealing that it was a sword cane.
“Impressive.”
I tell them that, and I’m impressed, as it is not a standard weapon you see outside of the major cities.
“I will meet you back at the church when you’re ready to bury the bodies.”
“Of course. I will be there presently once I have changed. If possible, I would like to have the potbelly stove and acquire some more supplies.”
“When you take the horse and donkey to the Driver household, inform them that I sent you and then pay them for what additional supplies you are requiring. Once your financial reserves are exhausted, I will take over buying them for you as part of the deal for you residing here.”
He nods in understanding. I dismissed my avatar but stayed and watched him pull his trunks into the mausoleum. I won’t have to watch this one around the Driver family.
About half an hour later, he reappears and I direct him to where the shovels are to be found. He removed the bodies from the church and found an area to bury them. He started digging the hole.
Roberson comes to investigate the new Hunter, and I introduce him to Harrington. The man is intrigued by the Hunter, and when he is gone, I informed him that he, too, will change in time.
He buried the bodies and, a few hours later, took the horse and donkey to Herbert.
Before he leaves, I tell him that Herbert has a family and a young family. I notice the look in his eyes—the hunger. I remind him that they work for me, and any harm inflicted upon them will be returned many times over.
I can see he is not completely convinced, but I suspect he will obey for now.
At least he wasn’t a clown.
