nowweknowtherearenoangels

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Session 5 - My Head is an Animal

I never want to be the Chosen One ever again for as long as I exist. It’s horrible. Anyone who thinks they’d like to be the Chosen One should rethink their choices immediately and consider getting a job at the grocery store instead. Something that doesn’t involve quests and horrible bloodshed.

We met a man named Merlyn today. He was… interesting, to put it politely. I didn’t like him very much to begin with. Command sent me along with Cormac, Varnish, Paula, Virginia, Caswallan, and the Austrian (I think he said his name was Klaus?) to find him. I really wish we hadn’t, though. All I know how to describe him as is all wrong. He wore all mismatched uniforms and a stag skull with full antlers over his head like some kind of forest spirit pretending to be human, and he kept going on about ending the war of the “Empires of the Ignorant.” The bastard acted like he’d reached some stage of enlightenment nobody could imagine. Just thinking about it unsettles me.

He sent us to find a sword called Caledfwlch (thank you, Cas, for teaching me to spell that), also called the Sword of Kings. Apparently it requires very specific people to handle it, which is where the whole “Chosen One” mess comes into play. I remember that his exact words when he grabbed me by the wrist were “You have been touched by the Veil,” and then he told me I was supposed to go claim the sword. Then he just sent us off like nothing had happened. Bizarre arsehole.

There was a lot of walking involved, which really shouldn’t surprise me anymore. At one point we almost got ambushed by what I think might’ve been some kind of cultist. Then, we came across a farmhouse. I’m not sure how exactly to put this, so I am simply going to bluntly state what happened next:

Varnish turned into a woman.

No, I do not know how he did this. No, I do not know what he meant when he complained about something called “gender dysphoria” (I’m going to ask what it means later). No, I do not know why he even decided to do this. What I do know is that he used it to get us help, and that it also makes him the second strangest creature I’ve met so far in this war. I’m not sure whether to feel safe around or be scared of him.

He’s a very talented actor, though.

He approached the four people following us and begged them for help. I mean, he completely stepped into a “damsel in distress” act and played the scene perfectly, just like that performance Mum took me to when I was 12. He persuaded them to take us to safety, and they were introduced to us as initiates and knights of the Order of Camlann, which I am still fairly sure is a cult… but at least one of the nicer ones I’ve encountered so far. They took us to a woman called Nimue (the 110th person to hold that title, which does not help the cult allegations) who told us that the Order sought to hunt down Fair Folk artifacts to stop the Veil from tearing further. I still don’t know what most of that means, but I do know that apparently the Irish take talk of the Fair Folk very seriously because Cormac was on edge all day after that and wouldn’t stop it with the superstitious babble. He’s in the bunk across from mine right now while I write this, and he still looks like he expects to be jumped at any moment. Paula says she thinks this isn't all Irish people, but she seems a little concerned about it too.

Anyhow, Nimue told us to turn back. I personally believe we should've, but the problem with being a soldier is that apparently we don't know when to quit. It took a lot of convincing, but we managed to get her to come with us instead. The goal was to get the sword and use it to defeat Merlyn. When we found it, it was lodged in an artillery shell, and I was tasked with pulling it out. The logic was that only the “Chosen One” could do so, so I wasn't really offered the chance to say no. I grabbed it, tugged it out (it was scarily easy, to the point of feeling completely unnatural), and was immediately accosted by Merlyn, who wanted me to… use the sword? I'm really not sure what he was requesting. Everything became a blur.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Everyone saw it, I think, but so far nobody else has talked about it. I felt a presence inside me and spoke in a voice that wasn't mine. Feminine and clear and with an American accent, not at all like me. It almost sounded like the voice of… well, whatever it was I encountered on the other side. Whatever I made that deal with.

It – she? – was angry. I was only a spectator in my own body while she and Merlyn shouted things at each other. Merlyn said something about a “Twisted Voice,” which I assume is the name of the being, and the being shouted several things through my mouth about allowing “him” to have his freedom and not forcing “him” to be part of some greater scheme. I think that, in this case, “him” was referring to me, although it sounds utterly unfathomable that some kind of Eldritch monster entity would care that much about the well-being of someone like me. She said it herself; “HE'S ONLY 19! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM, HE'S JUST A KID!”

The strangest part, though, was that she helped me fight. Twisted Voice (if that's her name) moved my body for me while I watched. I remember witnessing the bloodshed and seeing my companions fight. Johanness was thrown into a wall. Cas revealed that they are somehow related to Merlyn and proceeded to lose an eye fighting him, which appears to have been replaced by a flower. Then Varnish bit Merlyn, complained that “The wizard tastes like dust,” and killed him.

Frankly, I'm too exhausted to remember much after that, but I know Nimue offered help if we ever needed it before parting ways with us. None of it makes any sense, but I'm starting to realize that the less I know out here, the better. All of it is madness, and by now I just want to sleep. I'm hoping maybe tomorrow will be clearer.

~ 🔗

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Thomas facts PT 1.

Since I'm constantly coming up with things about the characters on this blog, here's a compilation of all the fun Thomas facts I have canonized so far for your viewing enjoyment while I work on typing out episodes.

Ripped from his Toyhouse:

Thomas currently has a pact with the Eldritch god of death that prevents him from dying. The downside? He's also slowly becoming a monster with each death, and his vision is starting to deteriorate.

He's nicknamed Blue Jay by Varnish for the way his hair slicks back and sticks up.

Thomas wanted to be an artist before the war, and has a sketchbook full of drawings of nature and his friends (every single member of his unit has at least one drawing of them in that book). As his sight deteriorates, he instead switches over to making music and associates specific chord progressions with his teammates. 

His singing voice claim is Sparkbird if you slapped a British accent on there, but his speaking is closer to Deckard from Bee and Puppycat (also if you slapped a British accent on there).

He looks perpetually startled, even when he's completely calm. It's just how his eyes are.

The monster Thomas is turning into is closely related to Trenchstalkers and is in Lullaby's image.

I wanna explain the whole chord progression thing he has going on with his teammates. Originally, he draws them in order to remember them better, that way he can put names to faces. When he starts losing his sight, he does the same thing, but by associating voices, names, and chord progressions. Whenever a teammate dies, these chord progressions become extremely precious to them, and he hums them while he thinks of his fallen companion.

I'll add this to his Toyhouse later, but his blindness isn't total blindness. He specifically develops cataracts to the point where everything looks like blurry blobs of color to him. This is why his eyes when he's fully transformed are drawn as milky/blank and why he has an easier time navigating by sound and smell. He can sense changes in light and very roughly process colors, but is considered legally blind.

Another thing I also need to add to his Toyhouse is that he was raised by a single mother. Nobody knows who his father is. His mother also currently thinks he's dead and will continue to think so because she is completely unaware that he keeps getting himself revived. He quite literally can't go home because his own mother would fail to recognize him.

I'm so happy I'm not Thomas

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Session 4 - Fight, Little Wolf

TW: gore, blood, gun use, dead bodies, horror, ritualistic sacrifice, time-period-specific sexism, death

Everything is wrong now.

It was wrong before, too, when I was drafted by my father. It was wrong when that thing killed my men with its massive sword. It was wrong every time gunshots fired and I wondered if I’d ever live long enough to see my family again. It’s been wrong since the very beginning, but now it is especially wrong.

They’re gone now. Another quarter of my men. Hans, Friedrich, Felix, Alaric, Christoph, Jonas, Finnick, Ansel, Silas, and Axel. All gone. Brutally slaughtered, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

We came to that little township looking for refuge. We had no idea that there was something darker lurking there, even though the signs were everywhere. How could we? There was the enemy on our tail, and we needed to escape. We were desperate, like a fox being hunted down by hounds. Even when the girl in the bakery told us it would be best to leave, best to avoid something called the “inquisitors,” we didn’t listen. Fear had blinded us, and I was pushing foolishly forward to bring my men to safety… so much so that I completely failed to realize that the place I had stopped us in was far from that.

I should’ve noticed something was seriously wrong. Who has purple fire in their lanterns and hides in their house all day like just stepping outside will have them nabbed up by a monster? I have learned, now, that only people who have been in proximity to the things display that kind of behavior. I have learned, but I have learned too late.

The “inquisitors” the girl spoke of were Germans. That being said, I believe they only used to be Germans. Whatever they are now, it is no longer a German soldier. A German soldier would never attack and kidnap a company of Austrians. We are allies, not opposing sides! If they were in their right minds, they would’ve easily seen that there was absolutely no reason to do us harm. Regardless of the uniforms they were wearing, I know now with certainty that they were barely human anymore. There were sigils covering the clothes they wore and strange words spilling from their mouths. The more appropriate term would be heathens or cultists at this point.

I was hiding when the enemy came and the ritual started. I cannot believe that I would even write this, but I have never been more grateful to see British and French uniforms before in my entire life. When those sacrilegious bastards lit every lamp on the street purple from some kind of unholy bonfire they had started, watching the way it clicked for those other soldiers – enemy or not – was the most reassuring thing I’ve seen since I first joined the war. From my position under someone’s house, I watched in horror as my men were led out to the chapel steps with bags over their heads and ritualistically sacrificed, and so did those strange soldiers from the opposite side of this war. We were, for a moment, united by revulsion and distress at what we had witnessed. In fact, I suspect in some way we always will be, because I now feel like I owe them all my life. The town went up in purple flames as something indescribably awful (I can only describe it as a horrible cross between an ape and a bat with far too many pointy parts, and that barely begins to scratch the surface of how terrifying it was) burst forth from the flames and began to wreak havoc upon us all. I never would’ve survived without those strangers.

They called it the Nightmaster. I still don’t know what that is, nor does anyone around me as I am writing this, save for perhaps one man who I would rather not talk to. I do, however, know that it tore open the chest of the girl from the bakery right before my very eyes, and I know that was also my fault. If I hadn’t run to those other soldiers and yelled at them to flee, the monster never would’ve noticed us, and it never would’ve killed her. The boy in the French uniform was right, it is all my fault. All of it.

I never want to even think about that battle again. I shot the monster from the sky, watched some young man scream at it so horribly that he himself literally died, and blew off half of its face. I still see it when I close my eyes. 

I don’t know where the rest of my men are now. I’m still with the enemy company, who has been much gentler with me than I would’ve expected. I have their nurse to thank for that. Her name is Paula, and she works hard to protect every single member of her unit – and now, until further notice, that includes me. I plan to escape as soon as possible and return to the remainder of my party soon, of course, but it’s not so bad here. Their commanding officer is kind enough, even if some of his soldiers are rightfully aggressive with or afraid of me, and the only truly strange thing about their group is the man who calls himself Varnish and the fact that I have counted two female soldiers, which was previously unheard of to me. How and why they got here remains to be seen, although I have decided that I will guard them with everything I have while I am with them.

For now, however, I think it is time for me to rest. ~ 🐺

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Session 3 - Entropy

I like these people! Somehow, these silly little humans have already completely accepted me into their ranks, and I already feel right at home. It’s my dream! If I can find a way to make them keep me around, I’ll be rid of Mother and my sisters forever. Goodbye, past I didn’t want to have anyways!

I met an old friend today, too. You see, apparently my new companions needed a journalist murdered, so I went ahead and helped them by bringing them to my friend, Mars. Unintentionally.

Realistically, I probably should’ve just killed the journalist myself. It’d be easy, quick, and I’d get a free meal. The problem with encountering Mars while going to do this, however, is that it automatically put the rest of the humans I was with in danger. Mars is a Vathek, and Vatheks aren't exactly great with being gentle. I have no idea what the hell all their bullshittery about ‘dying honorably in battle' and ‘challenging the strongest foes' is supposed to mean, but I do know that it means they aren't peaceful creatures. And for some reason, ever since the Veil broke, they've really taken to challenging humans.

I'm not sure what Mars would've done if I hadn't acted, but he's significantly more combative than any of his siblings. I didn't want any of my favorites to get harmed, so I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone and just sacrifice the journalist.

The result was good enough, I suppose.

I'm just glad that none of the other humans were harmed. They're kind of like my pets, I guess? There are too many to list right now and I haven't found appropriate names for each one yet, but the ones who were with me were Blue Jay, Field Mouse, Doe, Chameleon, and Crow. I think they're still warming up to me, but they're a better group than I've ever been in before. They remember my name, for one. They also engage in polite conversation with me and even let me sit with them at breakfast. I feel… welcomed, I think? I don't know, but I feel like I actually matter for once. I know Comfort Sirens (stupid name, but it's what the humans know us as) are largely solitary creatures, but the connection is nice every so often. They don't even mind that I'm defective.

But that's enough of me being a sentimental idiot for today. There's still more story to tell.

On the way back from the operation, we got to drive a tank! Apparently they do this regularly, but I still think it was pretty neat, especially since we actually used the weapons today. We got attacked by what's called a Hellfire Tank (once again, stupid name, but it's what the humans call it), which is basically the world's worst snail… but a tank.

We... Uh…

We ran it over.

Which leaves me writing this on the way back home, listening to my new pets talking about the tank guts that we just drove through. I love it here.

~ 🩸

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Intermission - The Other Side

There is no such thing as Heaven. I know this with confidence now, since I have been beyond the world of the living, and I have seen what lies there.

It? She? I don't know, but there was a being that I met. I begged for my life, and they agreed to make a deal with me. I can no longer truly die.

Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

My friends don't seem to know it's me.

I can't help but wonder what will befall us next.

~ 🔗

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Session 2 - What's It Like In Heaven?

TW: gore, blood, gun use, death, horror

It is with a heavy heart that I write this.

Thomas is... no longer with us. I am here to explain why.

We began this day with a test run of the tank we had been previously working with. Cormac, Thomas, Sergei, and Mikhail were supposed to show Julian its capabilities and what we were working on, and of course I tagged along to assist should someone get injured. The test itself went off just fine, completely without a hitch, but things began to go awry almost immediately after.

I'm not sure how to describe these little creatures other than that they are very, very small and just as ugly. I believe they are called Trench Gremlins, though I am not entirely sure. Either way, they made their way into our tank and attacked us like a swarm of rats. The boys and I were understandably very alarmed, but we have quickly learned that small creatures like that are very easy to defeat. At one point during the fray, I kicked one in the head. It was very effective, though I would not recommend getting Trench Gremlin brain matter on your shoes if you can avoid it. The scuffle was over as quickly as it had started.

One of the little bastards made a break for it, but was quickly caught by a strange man. He looked about our age, but with a shadowy tail, sharp teeth, and a few too many eyes. Not quite the Devil himself, but decidedly very similar. He consumed the little beast, then introduced himself to us as Varnish. I suspect I will cover him in greater detail in another entry, when I am less shocked and grief-stricken.

We stayed around to talk to him, but were approached and attacked by a trio of German commandos. Cormac was knocked out nearly instantly (thank you, God, for sparing him).

Thomas was... not so lucky.

I doubt I'll forget his face anytime soon, much less the expression he made when the bullets tore through his chest. He died instantly.

I don't think I can express in words how grief-stricken I really am over this. I hadn't known him for very long, but from everything I'd seen of him he was a good, sweet young man with an intelligent mind and a warm heart. Nervous, sure, but absolutely delightful to spend time with. He had beautiful blue eyes and a scar across his face, and this messy brown hair that he always had slicked back, albeit rather poorly. I still can't believe we lost him.

I saw red, and instantly attacked the man who had killed him. Nobody harms my boys and gets away with it, and though it disturbs me thoroughly, I am proud to say that retribution came quickly for the murderer. I knocked off the gas mask he was wearing and stabbed him in both eyes before inevitably killing him with a stab to the chest. He fought back, of course, but I came out on top with no help. I will carry that as a badge of honour for the rest of my life.

Curiously, these men had strange runes the likes of which I had never seen before carved and tattooed into their faces. I like to think I am fairly familiar with runes, considering the lessons some of the more supernaturally-inclined nurses gave me back when I was still training, but all that I could recognize was that these were symbols of the monsters that stalked the landscape. As Sergei and Mikhail took out the other two and I flung insults left and right, I was unable to get a closer look, which I regret only because I am certain the knowledge would've been useful to us.

Varnish disappeared in the fray at one point, and returned with an injured soldier with blonde hair. Allegedly, he is from Belgium and was forced by the Germans to fight for their side, though I do not know the full story. His name is Johannes, although something tells me that is not the name he was given at birth. Understandably, he was deeply traumatized. We also discovered that he had similar runes forcibly etched into his skin, covered mostly by his uniform. He's staying with us now, at least until further notice. Varnish has also joined our ranks, though I am far more apprehensive about him.

It was a sorrowful drive back, but something incredibly peculiar occurred as we got back to the tank and attempted to ride away. I'm not sure exactly where he came from, but a lone British soldier darted in front of the tank, waving his arms and asking for help. After stopping the tank, we let him inside, and he introduced himself as Thomas Wright. Perhaps it's just the name, but looking at him now as I write this, I am unable to shake the sense that he is familiar. I've seen those eyes before, the way his brow crinkles when he thinks and the way he holds himself.

It's probably nothing, though. After all, there are probably thousands of Thomases in Britain.

~ ❤️‍🩹

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

JESUS SHIT.

I JUST SAW BLOODY FUCKING SAINT NICHOLAS RUNNING ACROSS NO MAN'S LAND.

I THINK I NEED TO GET ME HEAD CHECKED.

~ 🐇

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Happy Halloween!

I've yet to introduce myself, but I think it's more fun that way. All you need to know is that if you see Santa Claus running around the trenches, that's me!

I'm going as the scariest thing I could think of; the seasonal onset of commercialism.

~ 🩸

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

i wish everyone a very Never Going Home today

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

#7 RPG with 'Good Form'

I have NO idea what they mean by 'good form', so I'm just gonna talk about "Never Going Home" the WW1 horror ttrpg. I played this once at a con back in Jan of 2020 and thoroughly enjoyed myself. "The Veil between worlds has been opened by the slaughter from the war; and the monstrous Whispers of beings wholly alien to humanity can now be heard. Some people have listened to the Whispers enough to gain arcane powers and now struggle to maintain control as their minds and bodies begin to change. Others are too far gone, mutated into barely-recognizable versions of their former selves. War consumes the days and monsters stalk the nights. Not even dreams are safe."

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

I’m obsessing over

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Portrait of a friend’s character for the Never Going Home RPG that I picked up at GenCon. His name is Alassane Dijre and he’s one of the Tirailleurs Sénégalais

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Recently drew this, it’s supposed to be my character named “Beans” who I play in a horror ttrpg called Never Going Home. Which is a game based in WW1 with supernatural monsters and such!

But let me tell you, they aren’t sad because they stabbed someone- it’s because they got their heirloom knife dirty xD

Art by: Me

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

What A Lovely Hiding Place - Jaymouse comic

Please note that you will need to zoom in to read! Unfortunately Tumblr crunched the quality.

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Session 1 - This Is Not a Place of Honour

TW: gore, blood, gun use, dead body, horror

I was right to have such a bad feeling about this. I thought it'd be fine at first, I'd met our unit's nurse and somehow that soothed everything for a night or two, but then we got sent into action.

Myself and a few others, notably the nurse Paula, a French soldier named Jules, two Russians named Mikhail and Sergei, were informed by our officer that we needed to wake up before dawn and take out an experimental tank on a mission to pick up a reporter from a location nearby.

I don't typically like to speak ill of people, but Lord forgive me when I say that man was easily the most annoying person I have ever had to encounter. His name is Julian Flores and he appears to be completely devoid of the ability to stop talking for more than a millisecond. In fact, on the way back, he only shut up after Mikhail threatened to punch him and Paula gently diffused the fight.

Perfect silence for less than maybe fifteen minutes before I spotted a fucking corpse.

I do not want to detail it and I do not want to think about it because it makes me exceptionally ill, but it was carrying a bag full of papers, which Julian picked up and handed to us. Jules and I read it over together and discovered that the papers were enemy plans for the construction of a tank very similar to ours with inside info from someone who had been on the project on our side. This means we have a traitor in our midst.

I thought it wouldn't get any more gruesome, but at that point we began passing by piles of bodies picked clean of flesh and trails of blood leading off into the terrain beyond. Naturally, we needed to get them out of our way, so we attempted to clean them up, only to be ambushed. At first I thought maybe our attackers were enemy soldiers, but when I finally saw them, they were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Imagine a man, but with razor-sharp teeth and seemingly unseeing eyes.

I later learned that these are called Corpse Feeders, known to some as Ghouls.

We went into combat almost instantly, but all our first shots missed. Paula and Jules stayed back at the tank, understandably, and frankly I wish I'd been permitted to join them. Jules fired a second shot and hit one of the beasts in the shoulder, but it countered by trying to bite Sergei while on open ground. The other came after me. It stank, like rotting blood, a smell which I would never wish anyone to grow familiar with. I ducked behind a wall at the last second.

It should be noted to anyone reading this that those things are absolutely fucking stupid. After I dodged, it completely failed to realize that it, too, could go around the wall and simply reached for me while I scooted back and waved my bayonet at it.

I also discovered very quickly that my Russian teammates are clearly both insane. Mikhail started by punching the one attacking Sergei before Sergei punched it as well. Then, Mikhail turned around and punched the one that was trying to get at me, killing it and sending its body tumbling to my feet. I'm at the very least proud to say that I didn't just sit there paralyzed by fear, though. I swerved around Sergei and used my bayonet to stab the abomination still attacking him between the ribs, causing it to die and spray blood in every possible direction (including but not limited to my face). It was about as awful as it sounds.

On the way back, Julian immediately began asking questions about the battle. I'm not completely ashamed to say that I wiped some of the acrid blood off of my cheek and smeared it across his forehead, to which he shut up for the rest of the ride.

I ought to stop writing for now, it's late and I have to get up early tomorrow. I've washed myself and am in my bunk surrounded by the others, most of whom are also settling in for bed. I'll make an effort to write to Mum tomorrow and let her know that I arrived safely.

~ 🔗

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

Dear Cormac,

What happens to be your favorite dish from home lad? I happen to know quite a few dishes from my time as a civilian.

Considerations,

Caswallan

You know, I don't think I ever really had a favorite. They're all great, but if I had to pick one above the rest, I suppose it'd be Irish stew. Specially the kind my mum makes.

~ 🐇

[nowweknowtherearenoangels]

I was woken up today by a knock on my door. I answered it to a tall boy with pale skin and a scar over his face. He introduced himself as Pte. Thomas Walker. Apparently he'd heard that I'd be stationed close to his platoon and figured he ought to get to know me.

He is by far the most nervous wreck of a man I've ever met. He has these big, already frightened-looking blue eyes and he's always running a hand through his hair or standing with his arms crossed, fidgeting with his sleeves. That said, he was incredibly polite and friendly, and we took a short walk together to clear our heads.

He told me he'd been hoping to get into an art school, but changed his path and enlisted after the army called for more soldiers. I think there may have been a sense of dread in his tone, now that I think about it. I can relate.

He kept repeating that he joined because he'd be a hero, but it felt more like a self-reassurance mechanism than anything else.

I'm glad I'll be stationed nearby. I worry about that boy.

~ ❤️‍🩹