Beneath the gleaming
skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city;
a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark
Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James
Crowther.
Strephon Mackenzie, a
semi-immortal half-fae has been tasked by the Faerie Queen with the mission of
investigating a renegade faerie lord named Melchior who has established himself
in the city. He has come to visit Lydia
Palmer, the wife of the local vicar, who is active in the witching community.
“Pastor Shepherd?” Strephon tried to place the name. “I don’t
believe I know him.”
“He used to be pastor of St.
Matthias, the Methodist church over on Eighth Street,” the vicar’s wife replied. “He was involved in a wolf attack several
years ago.”
“Ah yes.” Now Strephon remembered reading about
it.. The man had the misfortune to lead
his church’s youth group on a camping trip on a weekend when the moon was full,
and was attacked by wolves. At great
personal risk, he held off the pack with an aluminum tent pole so that his
charges could get to the safety of the church’s van. The youths escaped
unharmed, but Pastor Shepherd was badly mauled.
“What happened to him, anyway?”
“He was laid up in hospital
for a couple weeks. Arthur visited him
once. He said he had changed; that he
was graver, more introspective than before.
Of course, considering how close he came to death, that is hardly
surprising.”
“And he had become a
werewolf?”
Lydia did not answer
directly. “The trouble did not begin
until after he was released and went back to his congregation. He spent a couple weeks in seclusion, and
then suddenly came out all bursting with enthusiasm, as energetic as ever. But Arthur said there was something not quite
natural about his new lease on life; something not canny. His theology began to show hints of disturbing
heresies – even for a Methodist. That is
what Arthur said, mind you.”
“Of course.”
“I think it was when he tried
to replace the bread of the Holy Eucharist with actual meat – cooked meat, of
course, but still – that his parishioners complained to their bishop. The church had him quietly removed from the
congregation.”
“And where did they place
this renegade Methodist?”
“Oh, he’s still in town. He started his own mission on Foxglove
Avenue; sort of a combination soup kitchen and flophouse with worship services
twice a week. I’ve heard it said that he
particularly ministers to the lone wolves, itinerants without a pack of their
own. I did NOT hear that from Arthur.”
“I imagine not.” Strephon thoughtfully munched on a
biscuit. “I have been out of touch far
too long. I should be more aware of what
is going on in my own city. You’re
right. I might do well to look up this
Reverend Shepherd.”
“I’ll get the address of his
mission for you,” Lydia said gathering up the tea dishes. As she did so, her husband came out of his
study.
“Ah, leaving so soon,
Strephon? Pity we couldn’t chat a bit
more. Say, would you like me to offer a
prayer this Sunday for your Mother?”
“My Mother?” The question came as a shock.
“For her birthday.”
He had forgotten that
taradiddle. “Oh no. That won’t be necessary,” he said a bit too
quickly. Holy symbols, he knew, were
anathema to the Fair Folk; he wasn’t sure if a clergyman’s blessing was
something his Mother would appreciate.
The troubled and puzzled look the Vicar gave him made Strephon feel
guilty, so he added, “But my cousin Devon has been going through a particularly
stressful time lately. I’m sure he would
appreciate your concern.”
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