Post by Grimm on Sept 18, 2015 12:10:31 GMT -5
Phinehas Dillinger whistled an old ballad brought across the Atlantic on an Irish coffin ship. Were he to sing, one would hear a heart-wrenching tale involving a silver axe, a surgeon’s bonesaw, a coal miner’s cap, and a well-worn scythe, but as it was, one only heard the melancholy melody resonating through the root cellar. Phinehas stood in a back room converted into something resembling a work shop where he carried out all manner of tasks. In the glow of lanterns and guttering beeswax candles, he‘d spread out wire clippers, diamond files, feeler gauges, and pencils in every possible stage of stubbiness.
If you thought Grimm was methodical and meticulous in the ring, you should see him work to correct the intonation on his mandolin.
Phinehas had covered another shabby table with bundles of leather, reams of satin and silk, and scraps of battered steel. Ruth had given him needle and thread, and he had scavenged rivets and soldering irons from the barges docked along the river.
In one of the darker corners, a wooden crate filled with copperheads, cottonmouths, and rattlers spoke to other pursuits.
At this moment, however, he had more pressing matters with which to attend.
Phinehas reached up and scraped soot off the ceiling. He flicked it into the mortar, then picked out the last of the fragments from under his fingernail. He ground it together with dust from pulverized jaws and shins, ashes from the Hangtown Church of Jesus Christ of Prophecy with Signs Following, and all manner of fungal shavings. He worked to concoct something of a poultice. The Lord of Misrule’s hex magic could curse (oh my, how it could curse…Granny had taught him well), but it could also cure. His yoke may not be easy, his burden not light. In his time here on earth Phinehas Dillinger had committed cardinal sins in all cardinal directions, but at this moment his concerns lay with the man clinging to life upstairs. He had been brought in under bleak pronouncements, equal parts fire, brimstone, and eulogy.
Billy Sadistic was one of the last people to deserve any measure of grace…but he was Phinehas’s brother. And so, while Ruth made him as comfortable as possible upstairs and attempted her own branches of healing, Phinehas had only this to offer right now.
As he leaned in for extra leverage, Phinehas’s extremities tingled - and not from the exertion. He knew what was to come before it arrived, and he braced himself for the voice that sounded as water rushing over rocks. Phinehas knew he must listen closely, for the voice was somewhat Chaotic.
“Poor William. I do enjoy that man’s work. How is he holding up?”
“I can’t say. This is his journey. His trial. I only hope I meet him on the other side of it.”
“Indeed.” The voice swirled around him. Phinehas’s eyes flashed in the light, darting to pin it down. “But more to the point, what news of our…project?”
A sigh escaped from Phinehas, but he reached for another handful of mistletoe berries as he answered.
“Your influences, as it were, seem to be wearing off. They served your purpose, and convinced Fate to strip Saniti of his powers, but his friends have already regained control of their faculties. And now that they’re aware of the situation, it’s only a matter of time before they manage to wrest that steel façade off Nathan.”
The voice became a growl, rumbling beneath his hobnails and moving up to the lanterns swaying from oak beams. Phinehas did not turn, for he knew there was nothing to turn to, but he held up the pestle and turned it in his hand.
“It’s as if even your best laid plans have their limits. But this…this is as old as these hills. Older than the river. You may be able to pull your strings from your throne room and seemingly manipulate the very threads of reality…but you’re in the House of Grimm now, friend. There are corners of this world that don’t take too kindly to outside influences and only recognize their native sons and daughters. I understand you have no one outside of your cosmic cartel…but family is everything.”
“How dare you…”
Phinehas detected something of a frown beneath the warbling of the voice.
…Frown?
A vision of a spark, a resounding explosion in his ears, and he felt the powder burns on his fingers.
Afterward the cellar smelled of saltpetre for some time
“Oh, sometimes I dare, my liege. As for this,” said Phinehas, nodding at the materials spread before him, “I don’t have to tell you what else this can do with only a few small substitutions. A snout full of this and Michael Wryght lost his ever-loving mind. If we’re going to continue with this chess game of ours, we’re going to need a contingency plan once this masquerade has run its course. Because it will.”
A candle on a shelf flared. The voice spoke from out of it.
“Games, you say. As if the balance of the universe is something I toy with just for funsies. All while you spend most of your time beating others with your fists like some kind of savage. I find this wrestling business of yours coarse and vulgar, but as one of my instruments I have certain expectations of you in everything you do. As such, I trust you won’t allow anything to affect your upcoming performance.”
Phinehas crooked his head and squinted. Frozen pools reflected flame but did not melt.
“It’s an interesting arrangement this week. Nathan and Kelli’s domestic squabble is none of my concern, though Billy certainly capitalized on it, didn’t he? He turned it into a game of his own making and played them like the pawns they are. Look how easy these people are to manipulate – to influence – when one knows just where that sweet spot is.”
With a tilt of his chin, Phinehas took a deep breath. He caught a bouquet of damp earth and toadstool and just a hint of gunpowder. Phinehas shivered and smiled as if he’d taken in the sweet savor of the presence of the Holy Ghost.
“The fact that Saniti and Starr are teammates is absurd, and by absurd I mean it’s hard to believe that such a troubled pair ended up as a team. It’s as if Fate arranged it for all our amusement.”
If a voice could flash a
, it would have just then. “You give Fate too much credit. He’s too busy serving tea and crumpets and giving false hope to any number of ignorant wretches to pay attention to much else.”
“Never the less. Saniti fancies himself a powerful magician operating outside the usual boundaries most of us face. And you wish him to be part of your league, or however it is you refer to it, so perhaps I should give his abilities more credence. He does understand how pliable reality can be, after all, and how one can harness and manipulate that illusion. I’ll concede him that. But for now, the lovelorn sap serves as a microscopic cog in a catastrophic plan. He won’t be happy when he figures that out, much like he won’t be happy once he understands how we’ve been turning his world all widdershins lately. As for the target of his affections…poor Starr’s drug-addled mind will never understand the severity of any of this.”
The voice moved from candle to oil lantern. The words dripped, sparking and popping when they hit the ground.
“Poor, misguided girl. Well, what can you do. She’s an unfortunate casualty in all this.”
“Unfortunate? I haven’t forgotten what Kelli Starr’s ‘sister’ and her company tried to do to the people of Hangtown. What Saniti managed to convince some of these fine folks to do to their own neighbors. The Dillingers don’t tolerate that sort of thing, you know. We don’t stand for it.”
Phinehas paused in his pulverizing. He tapped the pestle on the edge of the table.
“And thanks to that, I for one am nearly overcome by the compulsion to vomit and straight-up murder them. Them, and Eira, and Gem and her ruinous excuse for a family. All of them. And their few friends. And their dogs. And burn their houses down.”
This time the voice receded for a few seconds before emerging from the candle on the desk.
“Hmmm. And to think, you’re the cold and calculating one.”
“Yes. Well. I beg your pardon. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like killing off Justin Kaard as well?”
“Kaard? No, I doubt that. Though he does have to answer for that chair shot. He picked a fine time to make his dramatic return, but I suppose the lure of that spotlight is hard to ignore. Or maybe the desire to repair the damage he did to his oh-so-brief legacy as he faded away the first time influenced his poor decision. I’m not ashamed to admit I played a part in that fall from grace. Whatever his reasoning, he’s been thrust into the middle of a lover’s quarrel and will be facing off against the Black Hand. Not the best of circumstances in which to restart your career, but it is what it is. I’ll welcome him back with open arms just before headbutting him into oblivion.”
The candle flickered and the voice faded along with it.
“No matter your intentions or the outcome, I expect your team to make as much a statement as you did before. You’re representing more than yourself.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Stormm and I, we’re partners, yes. A team devoted to a great, great smiting, but there is something you have to understand. Our histories as individual champions stand witness as to our abilities and our tendencies. We may not share the background as I do with Sadistic and Showtime, but we’re both old pros at this. Having Michael with us again only serves to prove our case. No one can discount our collective ring experience or singular purpose when that bell rings. And when it does, there will be no confetti. No parade. Just business as usual.”
Phinehas paused. He could feel the voice diminish into nothing. He took up a box of matches, struck one, and relit the candle to his right. He then dipped the tip of a pinky into the concoction in the mortar and touched it to his tongue. He winced.
Perfect.
If you thought Grimm was methodical and meticulous in the ring, you should see him work to correct the intonation on his mandolin.
Phinehas had covered another shabby table with bundles of leather, reams of satin and silk, and scraps of battered steel. Ruth had given him needle and thread, and he had scavenged rivets and soldering irons from the barges docked along the river.
In one of the darker corners, a wooden crate filled with copperheads, cottonmouths, and rattlers spoke to other pursuits.
At this moment, however, he had more pressing matters with which to attend.
Phinehas reached up and scraped soot off the ceiling. He flicked it into the mortar, then picked out the last of the fragments from under his fingernail. He ground it together with dust from pulverized jaws and shins, ashes from the Hangtown Church of Jesus Christ of Prophecy with Signs Following, and all manner of fungal shavings. He worked to concoct something of a poultice. The Lord of Misrule’s hex magic could curse (oh my, how it could curse…Granny had taught him well), but it could also cure. His yoke may not be easy, his burden not light. In his time here on earth Phinehas Dillinger had committed cardinal sins in all cardinal directions, but at this moment his concerns lay with the man clinging to life upstairs. He had been brought in under bleak pronouncements, equal parts fire, brimstone, and eulogy.
Billy Sadistic was one of the last people to deserve any measure of grace…but he was Phinehas’s brother. And so, while Ruth made him as comfortable as possible upstairs and attempted her own branches of healing, Phinehas had only this to offer right now.
As he leaned in for extra leverage, Phinehas’s extremities tingled - and not from the exertion. He knew what was to come before it arrived, and he braced himself for the voice that sounded as water rushing over rocks. Phinehas knew he must listen closely, for the voice was somewhat Chaotic.
“Poor William. I do enjoy that man’s work. How is he holding up?”
“I can’t say. This is his journey. His trial. I only hope I meet him on the other side of it.”
“Indeed.” The voice swirled around him. Phinehas’s eyes flashed in the light, darting to pin it down. “But more to the point, what news of our…project?”
A sigh escaped from Phinehas, but he reached for another handful of mistletoe berries as he answered.
“Your influences, as it were, seem to be wearing off. They served your purpose, and convinced Fate to strip Saniti of his powers, but his friends have already regained control of their faculties. And now that they’re aware of the situation, it’s only a matter of time before they manage to wrest that steel façade off Nathan.”
The voice became a growl, rumbling beneath his hobnails and moving up to the lanterns swaying from oak beams. Phinehas did not turn, for he knew there was nothing to turn to, but he held up the pestle and turned it in his hand.
“It’s as if even your best laid plans have their limits. But this…this is as old as these hills. Older than the river. You may be able to pull your strings from your throne room and seemingly manipulate the very threads of reality…but you’re in the House of Grimm now, friend. There are corners of this world that don’t take too kindly to outside influences and only recognize their native sons and daughters. I understand you have no one outside of your cosmic cartel…but family is everything.”
“How dare you…”
Phinehas detected something of a frown beneath the warbling of the voice.
…Frown?
A vision of a spark, a resounding explosion in his ears, and he felt the powder burns on his fingers.
Afterward the cellar smelled of saltpetre for some time
“Oh, sometimes I dare, my liege. As for this,” said Phinehas, nodding at the materials spread before him, “I don’t have to tell you what else this can do with only a few small substitutions. A snout full of this and Michael Wryght lost his ever-loving mind. If we’re going to continue with this chess game of ours, we’re going to need a contingency plan once this masquerade has run its course. Because it will.”
A candle on a shelf flared. The voice spoke from out of it.
“Games, you say. As if the balance of the universe is something I toy with just for funsies. All while you spend most of your time beating others with your fists like some kind of savage. I find this wrestling business of yours coarse and vulgar, but as one of my instruments I have certain expectations of you in everything you do. As such, I trust you won’t allow anything to affect your upcoming performance.”
Phinehas crooked his head and squinted. Frozen pools reflected flame but did not melt.
“It’s an interesting arrangement this week. Nathan and Kelli’s domestic squabble is none of my concern, though Billy certainly capitalized on it, didn’t he? He turned it into a game of his own making and played them like the pawns they are. Look how easy these people are to manipulate – to influence – when one knows just where that sweet spot is.”
With a tilt of his chin, Phinehas took a deep breath. He caught a bouquet of damp earth and toadstool and just a hint of gunpowder. Phinehas shivered and smiled as if he’d taken in the sweet savor of the presence of the Holy Ghost.
“The fact that Saniti and Starr are teammates is absurd, and by absurd I mean it’s hard to believe that such a troubled pair ended up as a team. It’s as if Fate arranged it for all our amusement.”
If a voice could flash a
, it would have just then. “You give Fate too much credit. He’s too busy serving tea and crumpets and giving false hope to any number of ignorant wretches to pay attention to much else.”“Never the less. Saniti fancies himself a powerful magician operating outside the usual boundaries most of us face. And you wish him to be part of your league, or however it is you refer to it, so perhaps I should give his abilities more credence. He does understand how pliable reality can be, after all, and how one can harness and manipulate that illusion. I’ll concede him that. But for now, the lovelorn sap serves as a microscopic cog in a catastrophic plan. He won’t be happy when he figures that out, much like he won’t be happy once he understands how we’ve been turning his world all widdershins lately. As for the target of his affections…poor Starr’s drug-addled mind will never understand the severity of any of this.”
The voice moved from candle to oil lantern. The words dripped, sparking and popping when they hit the ground.
“Poor, misguided girl. Well, what can you do. She’s an unfortunate casualty in all this.”
“Unfortunate? I haven’t forgotten what Kelli Starr’s ‘sister’ and her company tried to do to the people of Hangtown. What Saniti managed to convince some of these fine folks to do to their own neighbors. The Dillingers don’t tolerate that sort of thing, you know. We don’t stand for it.”
Phinehas paused in his pulverizing. He tapped the pestle on the edge of the table.
“And thanks to that, I for one am nearly overcome by the compulsion to vomit and straight-up murder them. Them, and Eira, and Gem and her ruinous excuse for a family. All of them. And their few friends. And their dogs. And burn their houses down.”
This time the voice receded for a few seconds before emerging from the candle on the desk.
“Hmmm. And to think, you’re the cold and calculating one.”
“Yes. Well. I beg your pardon. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like killing off Justin Kaard as well?”
“Kaard? No, I doubt that. Though he does have to answer for that chair shot. He picked a fine time to make his dramatic return, but I suppose the lure of that spotlight is hard to ignore. Or maybe the desire to repair the damage he did to his oh-so-brief legacy as he faded away the first time influenced his poor decision. I’m not ashamed to admit I played a part in that fall from grace. Whatever his reasoning, he’s been thrust into the middle of a lover’s quarrel and will be facing off against the Black Hand. Not the best of circumstances in which to restart your career, but it is what it is. I’ll welcome him back with open arms just before headbutting him into oblivion.”
The candle flickered and the voice faded along with it.
“No matter your intentions or the outcome, I expect your team to make as much a statement as you did before. You’re representing more than yourself.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Stormm and I, we’re partners, yes. A team devoted to a great, great smiting, but there is something you have to understand. Our histories as individual champions stand witness as to our abilities and our tendencies. We may not share the background as I do with Sadistic and Showtime, but we’re both old pros at this. Having Michael with us again only serves to prove our case. No one can discount our collective ring experience or singular purpose when that bell rings. And when it does, there will be no confetti. No parade. Just business as usual.”
Phinehas paused. He could feel the voice diminish into nothing. He took up a box of matches, struck one, and relit the candle to his right. He then dipped the tip of a pinky into the concoction in the mortar and touched it to his tongue. He winced.
Perfect.
