ic Curse of the Swamp Hag

[Supercape]

GM

 

Dec 5th, Blackstaff Investigations

 

Ring-a-ding-dong!

 

A man at the door of Blackstaff Investigations pressed the doorbell with an elegant thing finger. He was a slender man, maybe in his sixties or early seventies. His hair and trimmed beard were white. He looked in good health for a man of his years, his spine was straight and his complexion healthy. He wore a good cut of tweed jacket and an equally bespoke waistcoat, complete with red bow tie. He had, in essence, the look of a professor. 

 

"Armitage," he said, by way of introduction. "Professor Alfred Armitage."

 

A professor by image, a professor in fact. 

 

His name was not famous, at least not to the general public. But Blackstaff new of him; Emeritus Professor of Antiquities at Freedom City University, sort of retired, but still active. A wealthy man who knew all there was to know about the occult, archeology, and philosophy. He was a genius by any measure, his knowledge of the strange and mysterious past unparalleled in depth and breath. 

 

A man of his stature of course attracted rumours of sorcery and skullduggery, but there was, to Blackstaff's knowledge, no evidence of such. He was known to have a stern and unforgiving nature, a man with no time for fools. He was neither cruel, not kind - here was a man who had thrown his impressive intellect into decades of absorbing knowledge. 

 

 

[Spacefurry]

Blackstaff

 

The blonde that had been sitting at the front desk knocked on Christopher’s door opening it enough to poke her head in.

“Yes, Lark?”

He asked without looking up from his papers. The way she cleared her throat made him pause and look up though.

 

“There’s a Professor Armitage here.”

Lark said as she slipped into the office and handed Christopher a business card.

 

His brow furrowed a little as he took the card and read it himself.  Both eyebrows rose as he recognized the name.

“Send him in.”

He smiled at Lark and straightened his papers and set them aside.

 

As the professor entered the office Christopher stood and offer his hand.

“Professor Armitage, Christopher Daye. A pleasure, your reputation proceeds you.”

He gestures to an empty chair in front of the desk.

“How can I help you?”

He smiles and asks as he sits.

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Hmmm. Tea, please," asked the Prof, without being asked. He sat on the empty chair and straightened his waistcoat. 

 

"Likewise, Mr Daye? Or is it Blackstaff? Or Mr. Staff? Forgive the asking, I would like to be clear and polite about the matter." 

 

Professor Armitage had a deep, rumbling voice, at odds with his frame. A pleasant yet commanding voice, not rude, not arrogant, just commanding. It was a voice that insipired confidence in ability. 

 

He crossed a leg and stroked his beard. 

 

"I think I understand your nature and your business. Quite the sorcerer, I would guess. Myself, I have no such talent. One cannot study the ocuct for two score years without learning some arcane rituals, and yet that is my absolute limit. No fireballs from my fingertips, I can assure you. I am no threat, although given the nature of my business I sometimes wish I could."

 

"But that is another matter. I wish to hire you, or, if you do not take cash or other barter, I would appeal to your good nature. I often deal with arcane artifacts, although many merely are dressed by mythology and thus claim to be eldritch. I have noticed an increasing number... a vastly increasing number, have some curse or another attatched to them. Madness, possession, that sort of thing. Concerning, is it not?"

[Spacefurry]

“Tea. Of course.”

Christopher said, raising his voice only a hair. He could picture Lark sighing and getting up from her desk. No human could not have heard them in the office from the front desk, but Lark was not human. She was a lycan, what most would simply call a werewolf. And her hearing was more than human.

 

“Mr. Daye is fine. Blackstaff is a, ah, nickname.”

Christopher smiled, not sparing the blacken wood staff in the corner even a glance.

 

He laced his fingers and gave the professor his full attention.

“I understand what you mean. The rise in cursed objects falling into unsuspecting hands has become a growing concern.”

He nodded appropriately.

“I even have a colleague, a Mr. Marshak, overseas with a curio shop. He and some assistants have dedicated themselves to recovering and locking away as many as they can find.”

 

He gave the professor a chuckle and opened his hands.

“But he’s overseas and you’re in my office, so I think I may be able to help you. I do accept cash, check, card… or equivalent barter.”

 

“That said, what exactly is it you would like my aid with?”

Christopher leaned back and as if on cue, Lark knocked and entered. A worn and slightly tarnished copper tray in hand. She handed a coffee mug with tea to Professor Armitage, then another mug on the desk for Christopher.

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Whatever you desire," replied Professor Armitage. "No... no that's not quite true. I am not a genie, granting wishes. Not my heritage. But I am a moderately wealthy man, so any reasonable fee I can pay. Or, if you would prefer, I have a large number of antiquities of arcane interest that I trade in. Teaching history and occultism was not well paid, lamentably."

 

"My dealings in the world of occult art are, some would say, lacking scruples. I confess I have made mistakes. I would like to say I have learned from them. This, I daresay, is true. But nevertheless the wrong objects fall into the wrong hands. Sometimes, I have to resort to skullduggery to avoid disaster. I take no joy in twisting the law, but compared to the havoc of empowered items falling into crooked hands, I will resort to a bit of bending. Sometimes more than bending."

 

"I have dealt with Golden African Zombies, with Fey Puzzle Boxes, with Magical Sheet Music. I even had the vile Cantos Devil Stick in my hands at one point. I heard it was stolen from the British Museum a few months ago. That, sir, is something that troubles me greatly."

 

He crossed his fingers. 

 

"But not as much as these curses! Someone is out for Vengeance, I wager. This, history tells us, is the root emotion behind curses. Vengeance. But who? what? This must be determined, less madness and chaos envelop us!"

 

He sat back again. 

 

"May I speak in confidence?"

[Spacefurry]

Christopher nodded along, listening carefully. He had heard rumors not too long ago of some trouble with golden zombies by the docks. He may have to inquire about that later. For now, he could only listen politely.

 

When the subject turned to vengeful curses he sat up a little straighter. Leaning forward, arms resting on his desk. He gave the professor a level look of curiosity.

“By all means, feel free to speak frankly.”

 

At the same time Christopher relaxed his mind, letting his senses expand. Opening his third eye, metaphorically speaking, the wizard-for-hire checked the man sitting across from him for the signs of lingering magic. It wouldn’t do for him to allow anyone, much less a potential client, from leaving his office still cursed.

[Supercape]

GM

 

"I have in my employ a young man. A thief who goes by the name of Tom DIckens. Not a bad sort, but he is he theif, more precisely he is an expert at safe cracking. I have used him, at times, to... ahhh...."

 

He adjusted his tie. 

 

"Adjust the ownership of some dangerous artifacts, if you catch my drift. I suppose I am therefore an accessory. I do not claim to be a saint, but I am no sinner either. There are far worse than me plying the black market for occult power."

 

He took a deep breath in, and exhaled. 

 

"Mr Dickens has, as far as I determine, gone mad. He acquired a golden wreath, I believe from ancient Greece, perhaps imbued with the power of Dionysius - the references are obscure. The golden wreath of transmutation. As it appears to turn rocks into gold, you can image it has been highly coveted through the ages. I have found no reference to curses, however. And yet, Mr Dickens has gone quite ah... bonkers.... since he acquired it. I understand he is currently charging through Freedom City turning the festive decorations into gold and silver."

[Spacefurry]

Christopher watched the Professor as he spoke of Mr Dickens. He had known similar men, worked with a few even, he nodded knowingly.

 

At the mention of the wreath, his attention perked. His brows furrowed and searched his own memories for anything he may had heard of the golden wreath. It rang a bell, but he couldn’t recall anything off-hand.

“Nothing like that comes without some kind of cost.”

He agreed.

“Be it a curse or simply a lapse in judgement, Mr Dickens could cause serious trouble if left alone.”

Christopher pulls a small note pad out. He realized Lark was still standing near the door. She gave him a smug smirk and he just cracks barest of smiles before continuing professionally.

“Do you have his contact information? Also a description and the last place he was seen would be helpful.”

[Supercape]

GM

 

"His contact details? Therein, as Mr. Shakespeare would say, lies the Rub..." said the Professor, stroking his trimmed beard. 

 

"He is a cautious man, as befits his... ah... skill set. He carries no communication device, no telephone, no pager, not even an arcane listening cystral. He works alone. I appreciate, even admire, his independent spirit, but when things go wrong - as they surely do - we all need a hand from time to time. Like me, now, for instance. I suppose I am a proud man, and not immune the seductions of hubris, but I do at least know when I need help."

 

The Professor gazed at the room, and the eldritch trappings and happenings. 

 

"I would imagine this is a job for a magician... for magic!"

[Spacefurry]

Christopher leaned back in his chair again and nodded.

“I understand. I suppose I have my work cut out for me then. You wouldn’t happen have something like a hand written note from him or something.”

He gave Professor Armitage a confident smile.

“Otherwise, I accept the case. I’ll do everything in my power to locate your associate.”

He stood up and offered the professor a hand.

“I’ll contact you myself once I find him. Until then, if you think of anything useful or have any questions feel free to call the office Ms. Williams or myself should be available.”

Lark gave the professor a smile and nodded.

Edited December 18, 2023 by Spacefurry

[Supercape]

GM

 

The Professor patted his pockets. "A hand written note? Is this some divination spell?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

"Or do you mean... do I know where he is? Forgive me, the nuances of eldritch practice escape me. I know plenty about the occult, mythology, history, the theory. But the practice escapes me."

 

He emptied some of his tweed jackets pockets ont othe table in front of him. There was an antique mobile phone (which did have Mr Dickens number on it, but alas, the professor explained there was no answer). There were some sweets, a pipe, tobacco, a notebook full of barely legible scrawlings and ideas (including the address of Blackstaff investigations), and a yo yo. 

 

And a hand written note from Mr. Dickens. 

 

"Going to be busy next few days - leave a message if you need me. TD"

 

"Is this the kind of thing that would help with your divinations?" asked the Professor. "I am no expert on the casting of spells, but I understand - from a historical perspective you see - that an item of the target helps with scrying and so forth?"

[Spacefurry]

Christopher nodded at Professor Armitage’s initial guess, watching as the man emptied his pockets. He shared the professor’s choice of an older mobile phone. They had better odds of surviving Christopher’s magical exploits. The yo-yo raised an eyebrow, but he quickly hid it.

 

When the note was finally on the desk Christopher gave a satisfied smile.

“Yes, that will do nicely I think. A physical object he willingly interacted with should hopefully provide a suitable connection to track your man.”

He said carefully picking up the note to examine it. He looked back at Professor Armitage.

“It will time a little time to set up, but you’re welcome to stay and observe.”

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Why, I would be delighted to observe. I am more of an antiquarian, an academic. I rarely see genuine practice of the Eldritch arts."

 

The Professors eyes were alive with interest, and he stroked his bristling beard with enthusiasm. 

 

"Just let me know if I get in the way. And, er, pardonn the yo yo. An idle distraction for when I am bored, no doubt a relic of my schoolboy days in shorts and a cap. Not the most pleasant of times, the teachers were mainly interested in beating rote learning into you. I confess I have a good memory, perhaps in part because of that harsh and uninspiring lecture. But the cost, mmm, the cost. They were brutal times, school."

 

He let out a pained sigh. 

 

"Fortunately they did not crush my love of learning. So, please, abracadabra away. I shall watch with interest."

[Spacefurry]

Christopher chuckled as he stood from his desk.

“Yo-yo’s are fun and an excellent exercise for the hands and wrists.”

He gestured for the professor to follow him out of the office.

 

“Lark, close shop for now, then come upstairs.”

Lark nodded and headed for the lobby while Christopher and Armatige headed up to His workshop.

 

Upstairs, he cleared an area of floor to reveal a set of concentric circles, each of a different material. Christopher took a piece of chalk from his pocket and began to mark symbols along the interior of one of the rings. 

Once done, he sets unlit candles at the cardinal points. He gathers a shallow bowl and a small pitcher of clear, yet shiny fluid. Setting the empty bowl in the center and steps back. Holding out a hand, Christopher begins to chant. The words sound like some kind of Latin, but the words don’t quite sounds right. Suddenly the candles lit and a the bowl took on a hazy aura.

Carefully, he reached out and tipped the pitcher. The fluid flowed lazily as it poured out. It was like watching oil and water as it slowly streamed down into the bowl. Setting aside the container he held out the note above the bowl. He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath and then exhaling it. As he blew out his breath he released the note, leaving it hanging in the air above the bowl. Slowly he gestured at the bowl as if calling for something to rise. Something did.

Long, sinewy tendrils rose from the liquid in the bowl. Slowly they reached up to entangle the note. From around the tendrils a mist rises from the bowl to fill the air in a column. Within the mist something begins to reveal itself…

[Supercape]

GM

 

Continuing on from Precious Metals

 

The mist parted, with a little sparkling of gold, and a blizzard of snow. 

 

For a few seconds, only the snow could be seen. Then, bursting through from the mist came the strangest sight...

 

The shining Golden Star, carrying a lithe man (Mr. Tom Dickens, to be precise) dressed in orange spandex and wearing a golden wreath on his brow. 

 

What strange magic was this!

 

Blackstaff felt the cursed blowback, the eldritch distortion of his divination spell. Something was bending the magical energies, creating a sickly fire of green across the room. 

 

The divination spell had warped into a cursed transportation spell. 

 

In the blink of an eye, the room had filled with snow - the blizard coming from the golden fingertips of Mr. Dickens. 

 

"What?" yelled Mr. Dickens, face equally laughing and agahst. "We ain't in Kansas anymore, Dorothy?"

 

Indeed not, said the face of Professor Armitage, covered in snow, and neck deep in a snowdrift. 

[Poncho]

Michael did not so much fly in as collapse into the pile of snow. It sizzled and popped and he sunk deep into the snowy white stuff as he went from glowing like a newborn star to a brown haired kid face down in a rapidly melting snow bank. He looked far worse for wear than Mr. Dickens, breathing deeply as he groaned.

 

"Hello...? Is this...this is 66 Golem Drive...right? He...he said he wanted to come here. Man I'm tired." he wheezed. "I think I used up most of my battery chasing him across the city." he slowly rose to his feet, over six foot of high school jock in a red, white, and gold costume, which was now soaking wet. "We're good, right? You're not gonna attack me or something are you? I don't know that I have a fight in me right now...I could use some Freedomaide. Captain Thunder Berry Blast? Do you have that flavor. Or maybe Lady Liberty Mixed Berry?" He looked at the two older men a little tiredly. "Er...I'm Golden Star. If it matters."

[Supercape]

GM

 

"No, it is not," said Professor Armirage, digging himself out of the snow. 

 

"66 Golem Drive is my house. This is Emerald City... and this..." he plucked Mr Dicken's ear and gave him a yank. 

 

"ow!"

 

"...is my rapscallion friend Mr Thomas DIckens. Who has taken it upon himself, quite unwisely, to show some initiative. Unfortunately my friend has been cursed with slightly above intelligence. He is quite able to conjure up initiative, whilst not having the wit to see the bigger picture."

 

He snatched the golden wreath of Mr. Dickens head. The man gave a yelp, like he had been given an electric shock, and then cradles his hand in his head, grimacing in agony. "Cor Blimey!" he groaned, in a faux cockney accent. "That gave me quite the pain in me swede. Anyone got an asprin? or some laudenum, even better?"

 

"Mr DIckens likes to pretend he is a character for a Charles Dickens novel. He is about as English as the Emporer of Japan drinking Russian Vodka in the Taj Mahal. And he is a fool, this wreath is cursed!"

[Poncho]

"..." he looked at Dickens. Then he looked at Armirage. Then he looked at the third guy.

 

"...E..Emerald City?"

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked at the time.

 

"...Oh man I am SO grounded. I'm not allowed to leave the city without permission! I'm not even in the same state! I'm not even in the same TIME ZONE!" He had to count up momentarily. "...It would take me like 16 hours to fly back home at max speed, and I can't do that but for an hour. Uh... Oh man it's gonna take me two days to get home." He looked at Dickens again.

 

"You brought me to EMERALD CITY!? You and your weird wreath!? You know he was turning stuff to gold in Freedom City? And Diamonds. He almost collapsed a parking garage. He made a bunch of kids scared! And then people got mad at me because I didn't want the economy to collapse!" he was clearly panicking at the fact he was now, to his mind, stranded very far from home. with no reasonable way to get back. "he even tried to suffocate me in a giant diamond- which is admittedly how I learned I don't have to breathe anymore-. Which was very uncool."

 

He paused and took a deep breath, still clearly pretty out of it from his prior exertions and now the yelling. "...Now what do I do!?"

[Spacefurry]

Snow covered swaths of the workspace.

“What in the-?”

Lark asked, sounding only slightly surprised. The blonde glanced around the room as the others talked and argued. Seeing the professor, Mr Dickens and Golden Star she became concerned.

“Hey! Where’s Mr Daye?”

A drift of nearby snow shifted and Lark rushed over. A few handfuls of snow cleared away revealed the back Christopher’s jacket.

“Chri- Mr Daye!”

 

Muffled noises proceeded the a rush of snow filled wind as the snow drift was swept  away by a simple magic spell.

 

The exhumed figure hugged itself as it shivered and coughed.

“Damn-*cough*-damned magical feedback.”

Christopher straighten up, voice sounding strangely off.

“I am so going to feel that on in the morning.”

The wizard for hire surveyed the room and sighed.

“House keeping is going to have fun with this.”

 

Lark stood, mouth open, staring.

“What?”

Christopher asked when he saw her staring. Lark could only close her mouth and point.

“Um, you’re going to need a change of clothes.”

 

“What? Did my shirt get rui-“

Christopher looked down and stopped mid sentence.

“Oh, for the… Not again.”

 

The figure standing in the remains of the snow was easily a few inches smaller than the 5’ 11” gentleman Professor Armitage had met downstairs. Her hair hanging just past her shoulders. The young woman was holding up her sagging pants with one hand and rubbing the bridge of her nose with the other. The burnt edges of her shirt revealing her belly and part of her chest, all of which was covered in a dusting of soot.

 

“Alright.”

Christopher said looking around the room.

“Professor.”

She glance at the man he was  currently engaging.

“Mr Dickens I presume. And, ah…”

She regarded Golden Star and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Golden Star, I think he said.”

Lark glanced at the young man and Christopher nodded.

 

“Thank you Lark.”

She nodded her thanks.

“If everyone could join me in the den.”

Christopher motioned for the others to follow him down the hall. In the den, she approached a full length mirror and examined her reflection. She sighed and shook her head.

Pulling a price of broken chalk from her pocket she quickly scribbles a few lines of words on the surface. Then, placing just her finger tips on it and spoke a single word under her breath and a wind rose up around her, flapping her clothes. A purple hue spread over her and the clothing began to shrink, reshape, and repair itself. A moment later her clothes look untouched by the snow or magical backlash, and are sized and fitted for her new form.

 

She turns to face Lark and the men.

“Well, now then. Would someone like to explain what happened? I mean, before and up to the magical mishap in my workshop.”

[Supercape]

GM

 

The Professor dusted snow of his jacket. 

 

"Golden Star, yes. I have heard of you. I hear of a great many things. Is it coincidence that a golden superhero brought the golden wreath to heel? Perhaps. But words have a way, especially with curses."

 

He raised an eyebrow out Blackstaff. 

 

"Curses, it appears. Some feedback of some sort. As I said, someone is deliberately cursing America. And, yes, before you ask, it seems that the curses are landing pretty square on our soil. Not the united states, but both north and sounth America. As far north and south as you can go. Greenland seems to have missed the infection, but Greenland is not the most habited place in the world - I cannot be sure."

 

"Someone is playing a very dangerous game, gentlemen, and...errr... madam."

[Poncho]

Michael could only be a little aghast at how casually they were bith talking about magic. And also one of these people in the room had apparently been turned into a girl. And it apparently wasn't the first time. He was definitely out of his depth here. But they were calm. So he had to be calm. He took a few deep breaths and reorganized his thoughts. He couldn't freak out here, this was something important, even if it felt like he'd just been thrown into the deep end of a tidal wave.

 

"Okay...I'm sorry, I'm not up to date on, uh, Magic. But I can punch. What's going on, exactly? Someone is causing bad things to happen with magic?"

[Spacefurry]

Blackstaff

 

“Curses indeed.”

Blackstaff agrees with a nod.

“Powerful ones at that.”

She levels a look at the professor.

“You seem to know more than you’ve let on professor. A matter this important should have been brought to the attention of someone like the Master Mage Phantom. After all, this is a little bigger than a missing person, an annoying little hex, or a stray demon causing a commotion around town.”

She sighed.

“I suppose though, since I am involved now, I can at least look into it for now.”

 

Lark leans against the door frame, an imposing presence despite her appearance.

“Should I cancel your meetings for the next few days?”

Blackstaff nods.

“I’m afraid so. Mrs Hammershine will have to deal with the cats stealing from her forge a little longer.”

 

“It’s quite alright Mister Star.”

She gave the young man a friendly smile.

“I’m sorry you’ve been drawn into this. And I assure you, we can make sure you’re returned home as soon as you need to be.”

 

“Now, Prof. Armitage, if you would please. I think we deserve the full story.”

[Supercape]

GM

 

Professor Armitage looked rather offended by Blackstaff. "Of course I let on more than I know," he answered, hands clutching lapels. "I have spent fourty years and more studying every nook and cranny of occultism, theology, history and mythology. It would take me weeks to explain just how knowledgable I am. You think this hubris? No, sir, it is mere fact. Forty years of dedication will fill even the dullest of wit with knowledge, and I can assure you I am not dull of wit."

 

"As for the master mage, I am a scholar of the occult, not a magician. I do not have the master mages number, nor, quite frankly, would I ring it should I have. Master mage indeed! Did they elect her? who elected her? It smacks of secret societies and nepotism, and I trust neither."

 

He softened. "Although I confess my family stretches back centuries, ripe with occultism. But my monies and my studies are my own, not bought or handed down to me from father to son."

 

He coughed, realising he had let anger rule his senses. 

 

"Apologies, such an outburst is unbecoming and rude, and will not solve the problem. Someone is flooding our continents with cursed artifacts from the old world. I would imagine that smuggling is perhaps more up your street, more mundane, than fighting extra dimensional horrors."

 

"And perhaps yours, too, young lad?" he asked Golden Star. 

 

"And my impuslive protoge, too, even," he added, glaring at Thomas Dickens. 

[Poncho]

Michael politely ignored the man getting mad and yelling because hey, he wasn't mad at Michael, and Michael was having his own issues, way too many to deal with a guy just mad because of an incorrect statement. So he just listened quietly.

 

"Smugglers? I can stop smugglers. I mean I haven't before. But I've fought drug dealers and stuff. So, you know, it's just an increased target." then he looked at Thomas suspiciously. "And sure, he can help...but no putting weird things on your head again. I don't want to have to chase you again...because I don't think I could catch you, honestly." he finished. But he stood up to his full height and stretched out, preparing for whatever was next. He wasn't near as confident as he felt, and he still had math homework to do, plus school in the morning, but if he could handle this, they promised to send him home so he wouldn't miss school. So he had to do his best to resolve this as fast as possible. Speaking of fast, how much time did he even have left today? He wasn't sure. He hoped it was enough, at least.

 

"Just send me in the right direction."

[Spacefurry]

Blackstaff

 

Blackstaff let Armitage vent. Perhaps she had been too accusatory, but there were outstanding circumstances. She only raised an eyebrow at the accusations of ‘secret societies’, after all he wasn’t completely wrong, was he.

 

She said nothing, letting the professor cool off on his own.

“You’re right.”

He acknowledged.

“Forgive my own rudeness.”

 

“Smugglers would be easier targets, but that’s would only be a short term solution. There’s always people willing to make easy money.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding to herself.

“But, they could provide a link back to the supplier.”

 

Blackstaff nodded to Golden Star.

“Mr Star, your help would be appreciated and welcome.”

Looking to Thomas she added.

“Mr Dickens, I don’t suppose you have any possible leads to offer up?”

He asked.

“Otherwise I may have to try another tracking spell, and that I fear may take some time.”