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Uno and Fog: Blood Gate

June 25, 2019

The Fog reached in under his trench coat and pulled out what looked like another grenade.  If he was embarrassed by me carrying him like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold, he didn’t say it.

“I’m not sure if this will work, since the white phosphorus didn’t, but . . .” and he tossed it at her, instead of exploding, it let out a deeper thum as a black cloud exploded in all directions outward from it and swirled around the old god.

SHE shrieked with fury, but I didn’t turn around to look.  The Fog watched with interest for a second, “you remember how pissed SHE was a moment ago?”


“That was mild.”

“What did you do?”

“I ground some sky iron into a powder and then placed it into a dispersal device.  It hurt her, obviously.  Some of the people near her are going to take lung damage from inhaling it,” he paused for a moment, “I might have seriously hurt some of them.”

“How serious?”

“Permanent lung damage.”

My heart sank, “Luminary and the others are going to have a hard time with that.”

“We’ll deal with that if we get out of this,” he sounded tired, “but being in a lotus eater state isn’t much better,” he looked back at the howling fury of SHE behind us,  “Oh, and you might want to run faster.”

I pushed myself.  I didn’t look back, that would just slow me down.  The commune was ahead of me, and the central building was waiting.  I had no idea what New Age Mage had planned, if anything, but I was pretty much out of options other than hope.

I swear I could feel her reaching out to grab me just as I pushed through the door of the commune’s central building.  I stopped just in time to bend over and start dry retching.  I’m glad that I hadn’t eaten in a long time.  I dropped, more than set The Fog down.

I noticed that he didn’t seem to be affected by what we saw in that room.

There was fresh blood everywhere.  Strange sigils were written along the walls in it, there was a pool of it in the middle of the room, fed my six bodies, cut in such a way that the fluids drained from their bodies, instead of spraying out ward.

Standing barefoot in the pool of blood was an old beard man, symbols painted in the blood of his victims over his face and chest, in his hand was an athame and I could see the blood still out it.

“What did you do?”  The Fog didn’t move but he looked at the hippie warily.

I expect him to sound crazy, to laugh like a maniac or lunatic, instead he just sounds resigned, “what had to be done.  The two of you are going to have to push her through with me.” then he pierced his wrists and lowered his arms, blood dropped into the pool around him, and each drop, once it hit the pool started running upwards on each side of him.

SHE burst in at the moment and stopped, scanned the room quickly, her eyes flickered briefly with malevolence at the two of us, before resting on the crazy mage in his pool of blood, “Arthur, I didn’t think you had it in you.”  Her voice sounded surprised, and sad, and strangely with a hint of approval.

The two rivulets of blood met over the top of his head and then knotted together.  More blood pouted up the edges, inside the arch of blood, darkness formed.  A complete blackness.

“Come to me.”  The dying mage said, and then something long with guttural syllables and ticks that sounded like a violation of my ears and I realized her was using her true name to call her and even where I stood I could feel the power in those words, as if he was summoning her.

“I saw her move, grudging toward him, the mage looked at us.  The Fog threw the knife make of sky iron at her.  The blade pierced her at the shoulder level.  I pulled every bit of electricity I could and shoved it at her.  It exploded around her, I focused it into the sky iron, making it flicker with blue light.

As soon as her body touched the aging hippies, he wrapped his arms around her, the blood from her wound mingling with his blood.  “Together.”

“Forever.” SHE said with resignation in her voice, and they fell in to the darkness. The arch of blood collapses as soon as they are through it and they’re gone.

“Nothing changes over there.”  The Fog noted, “He won’t die from his wounds while there.”


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