Depression Averted

Sis, don't come looking for me.
Don't find me.

My friend is making a deal with the devil and I am killing angels. I made a deal with a glove, it is showing me things… Things that I know to be true. I have learned how they feed children to the well and that they were going to feed Zenisha‘s brother to the well out of spite. They use magic here, so, so, much magic. I’m helping the rebellion, a group that is fighting off the Elohim, a race that looks like angels from the good book, but destroy entire worlds just so their world lives a little while longer.

This glove, it’s called the order’s light, an artifact that was created before the “cataclysm” an event that almost destroyed this world, and is still destroying it. I am going to sleep, maybe i’ll feel better in the morning.

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Nightmares and visions
a sleepless night

We met with the rebellion. The meeting was underwhelming. Sadly, these are people who have known nothing but peace and tranquility that have it broken up by this new conflict. They scrape and hide and plot and scheme but it seems like most of the rebellion is in their own minds. A quiet and inoffensive rebellion. These people know a love and peace that our world should be ashamed for not knowing. They have love and affection for each other, even strangers. All of this is for nothing if we can’t save them. All of them.

I don’t know if I’m making sense.

The unfortunates who cannot use magic are being forced down into the Underchains. A shaded island beneath the island of Paradiso. The Underchains are like the slum of any other city in our world yet here it is almost a city unto itself. These are a people who live in squalor compared to the majesty of Paradiso. We were sent to discover what was in the lowest floor of the gate complex. A building that serves as offices, forward command and the main point of entry between the Underchains and Paradiso. There, we discovered a plot so horrible that I couldn’t believe that beings from Zyphr would be capable of concieving it.

They planned on poisoning the food.

All of the food is distributed from a central point. The city requires immense amounts of food to keep itself running and so there are these enormous drop offs daily. We came to find out that a high ranking angel named Adam had hatched a plot with a very powerful angel named Cain. They planned to put a sort of virus into the food with the hopes of “solving the population problem.” I wanted to return and torch all of the food but, Michael’s cooler head prevailed. There were just too many of them. Instead, we returned to Ebraim and told him the news.

I found out that the real head of the rebellion was an angel herself. It seems that they are not all of one mind when it comes to the bloodshed and their place in it. This angel believes that the angels themselves are to blame for the cataclysm that struck this world. She believes that the only way is for the angels to be “stopped.” She stopped herself from saying killed but, I knew better. I’ve justified myself like that before. The fact is that they seem to have given up and lost whatever fire they may have had to begin with.

We will reinvigorate that fire.

Then, I had a dream. A nightmare of sorts. In it, I saw a freed Serenity (a spirit of endings perhaps? either way, a spirit that embodies the endings of worlds) but, rather than graceful and clean, she was monstrous and full of spite. Worse still, against her stood Michael but, he was like I’ve never seen him before. His eyes were completely filled with a white light and he seemed to revel in destruction? At least, I believe the destruction was from him? I honestly know not. I then found myself in the white room again where I had seen Serenity before. The place where they are keeping her.

There, I tried to speak sense to the high judge of the angels. I hoped that she could hear me. I hoped that we could come to some sort of reasonable conclusion where bloodshed is minimized. These people need to leave this world and get themselves to a new one. An empty one where they can spread out and not have to concern themselves with population numbers. Although, I fear that such a place would merely allow them to experience the kind of strife that our world has experienced since the dawn of history.

Are we really saving these people?

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A grisly beauty
From the journal of Jack Valentino

I’ve given up on attempting to keep track of dates. It seems that we are to travel from world to world for some time to come. As such, it seems a moot point to think of the local time when it has been made painfully clear that time is an irrelevant concept when comparing one world to the other. So, I’ve given up. It is with great trepidation that I do so. I had attempted to keep these entries in some kind of order but, as I explained, that seems to be a fool’s errand. To make matters worse, I’m having difficulty locating my previous journal.

So, I will attempt to sum up my experience so far.

My name is Jack Valentino. I know this but, I don’t really remember much else. I know that I have certain unpleasant skills. I utilized those skills without concern for the next day’s consequences for some time before I was recruited. I was recruited by a group called the Secret Service. A group that extends back to the 1860s as far as I can tell. From what I am told and what I’ve pieced together, the group’s genesis was as some sort of secret arm of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. The Pinkertons became U.S. Marshalls and the secret service split off from the government entirely and went deeper underground.

That brings me to myself. Somehow, I am able to affect certain things. Chaos, I suppose. I’ve used it to manipulate probability in my favor. I’ve used it to cause a man’s clothing to fall into disarray. It wasted away as if hit by centuries in seconds. I even found that I held the ability to affect the special abilities of others. Anomalous abilities? Either way, the supernal has become part of my life. I’ve come to accept it without question. I have wrestled with things that looked like biblical angels and had my mind invaded by a strange woman. I have seen things that leave the supernatural question pointless. The supernatural is real. I have lived it. I am living it.

As an example, I am currently writing this from within my private bedroom within a pocket world. My companion, Victoria can open doors to other places. Places that don’t connect in any normal way. She has created a small place that as far as I can tell is a construct of her own mind. So, I theorize that when we cross the threshold of that doorway, we in fact cross into her own mind. As such, I treat my surroundings respectfully. This is a place that should not exist and yet does. A solipsistic world where I believe it to be because otherwise would deny my own senses. Yet, here I am, sitting in this plush, high-backed armchair across from a roaring fireplace scrawling into this journal as if to make sure it is all real.

Currently, we are in a world that we have taken to calling Zyphr. This is the home world of the angels that I spoke of. I first officially encountered them when they invaded another world called Terra. The angels are like locusts. They consume the essence of a world and leave it to collapse upon itself. We battled them across the entire world of Terra and in the end, we were victorious. The cost of that victory was immense, however. The destruction and loss of life were the likes that I have never seen, nor heard of. Massive cities, struck down to rubble. Children crying in the streets. The aftermath was disgusting. Yet we were lauded as heroes. The loss could have been worse, I suppose.

I have discovered the reason that the angels consume worlds. They do it to keep their own dying world from sliding into oblivion. This world is one of miraculous beauty that hides a terrible evil. The people here wield a force that can only be described as magic. They do so casually and without concern. They rely on magic so heavily that when Victoria and I completed a painting by hand for our hosts, they acted as if what we had done was miraculous. They live with miracles every day and have grown accustomed to them to the extent that the commonplace is a miracle to them.

I will write more as I get a chance to. For now, know that I plan on assisting this world in getting a merciful death. I hope to help the people migrate elsewhere and then allow this world to actually die. It is like a mortally injured animal bleeding to death but forced to stay alive.

This world desires death. I am committed to helping it.

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Depression Averted!
Why the 1930s?

Upon my research of the database, I came across some detailed letters and journals about a cell in Chicago during the 1930s. See, back then, the Agency was just starting to become more organized; making rules, keeping records of missions, among other things. The interest of this time period is simple, many of the vaults began being recorded during this time period. In my search to find a certain vault, I came across these two agents located in the Chicago cell. This group intrigued me greatly and not just because they claimed to have meet the founders. I will do my best to record my findings of their adventures and present them chronologically.

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