September the 30th, 1619,
I had arrived back from my patrol early, and was drawn into the Spirits Rest Tavern by the local proprietor. Help was needed to prepare the food for the rest of the Soldiers and guildmates that we're heading toward the small boderlands town of Leyton as we spoke. I unloaded the wagons with the help of Lady Lilly, and we got to work. Little did I know that such a mundane afternoon would lead to a night of horrors. After meeting with a few fellows, including Ranger Anya, a fellow travelers I had met on our Journey to the new world, We set towards serving our men and women their meals and preparing for a night of festivities. It was the harvest festival after all, and I had needed a night under the stars next to a warm fire without the Ahool lurking around. The guilds met, but guild politics aren't my forte. Instead, I grabbed Kruger, a Northern soldier, and we helped train two Ritualists. Cecil and Alice. Cecil was an excitable Ritualist, someone who knew everyone and was always excited to speak at length about their new understanding of the spirit realm. Alice, an apprentice, seeking knowledge, but with a side of ferocity. Alice came wanting to learn to fight side by side with the military, so we gave her the chance. Along the way we picked up Brandis, a wise and skilled tracker of the 3rd Mixed Regiment. He reminded me of McKeen, both leaders from the front, though Brandis seems to enjoy his low rank in the 3rd MR. Perhaps it's a survival instinct, officers seem to disappear in these wild lands.
Once we had gathered a small force, we spared, and while I lost, each failure is a learning experience. It wasn't long before night had fallen, and it was perfect time to begin the festivities. Just as I had lit the bonfire, there was an alarm for us to report. The Device, known by the scholars as the Psionic Esotary, had activated once again. I grabbed my sword and went to investigate. I arrived to find the seen in chaos, and a strange man standing at the device, pistol drawn, speaking a strange dialect. We tried, for a moment, to make contact, but as we continued calls for help came from behind. A wounded individual had came down one of the trails. Din, a Ritualist I hold in high regard, had helped him, and in doing so caught an infection of parasites. Knowing my place, I called for Brandis and we set up a quarantine perimeter while others went for help.
Typically, situations like these don't get much better. That night was no different. The wounded man became belligerent when we couldn't help him. When we tried to disarm him, he struck out at us, and the decision was made to incapacitate him. A decision that would turn out to prove problematic. He tried to flee from us, but I could not let the infection spread. The 3rd MR tailed him, eventually seperating him from the civilians. Once out in the open we surrounded the man and began to attack. It was fruitless. His muscles wretched with each blow we struck with sword and axe. Strange grubs poured from wounds, the parasite I imagined. I kept my distance, using my longsword to ensure those parasites were as far from me as possible. It was a good thought, as two of our men, including Brandis, were caught in a stream of spewed bile filled with those parasites. It didn't take long for the effect to take hold. Soon they saw us as enemies, and I knew we had to retreat to an area protected by the spirit wards. I called for a retreat to the Spirits Rest, and with the remaining 3rd Mixed Regiment, we held back the regenerating destructive engines we used to fight side by side to. We called for rifles, and I grabbed my own black powder to cover the final retreat. I placed round after round into the monsters, but they did not fall. The blast however was enough to stagger them, and that was all the time we needed.
With the infected around, we ousted any who were not until we could bind those who were. The doors were locked and only those with permission could enter and exit. I spoke with the doctor Helene, she seemed nervous about the infection spreading to herself. I suggest a course of action to treat the parasites, a mild poison, enough to kill the infection but not kill the patients. I think I may have sewn the seed of a thought in her brain. Over the next few days, a cure was created. Used by injecting lead based toxins into the body, extracting the parasites, and then giving the patient an antidote. It was a sound idea. Once the quarantine was lifted, festivities began. I grabbed my Mandolin, and we came back to our bonfire. We sang shanties into the night, and for a second I could have believe I was back in Haalvies. Only for but a second.
I left the worries when I picked up the Mandolin that night, but thoughts still fill my head. Who was that scout. How did he use the device? Where did he come from. How will we defend against a hostile force that may use the device? The infection arrived at the same time as the traveler, did it arrive with him? Did it follow him? How big of a threat is the device? Should we destroy it? Can we destroy it?
One fact remains clear, we must maintain order and keep it in the hands of the 3rd Mixed Regiment.