World of Darkness - Book of the Dead.pdf
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World of Darkness Rulebook
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9 781588 463821
Printed in CANADA
WW60501 $29.99US
BY
Martin Henley Matthew McFarland John Newman
Christopher Simmons Travis Stout Stew Wilson
Ascent
“Josephine.”
The whisper echoed in her mind.
“No one calls me Josephine,” she mut-
tered. “Only my mother.”
“Josephine.”
Jo slowly turned her head to the side,
cocking it like a dog that hears its name.
She smelled cinnamon and coffee for just
a second before the stagnant air of the
cavern overpowered it. She cocked her
head to the other side and took a deliber-
ate sniff. No coffee. No cinnamon. Only
the smells of dust, dirt, and decay filled
her nostrils.
“Josephine.”
With a start, Jo realized she was stand-
ing in front of a hole in the cavern wall.
She couldn’t remember how long she’d
been standing there. The hole was roughly
circular and just large enough that she
thought she might be able to crawl into
it. The soft light of the cavern illuminated
several feet of the darkness inside the
hole, suggesting the aperture might con-
tinue on further. She was sure the voice
calling her name was coming from the
hole. She put her hands on either side of
it to boost herself in, then stopped. Her
hands were the pale white of a corpse. Her
fingernails were translucent and the skin
underneath was the unhealthy purple of
a bruise.
“What happened to me?”
Pain exploded in her skull.
* * *
“Flashlight. Check. Canteen,” Jo sloshed
the water inside the canteen to make sure it
was full. “Check. Blade,” she reached out a
hand and grasped a gleaming straight-razor
from nowhere. The ivory of the handle was
stained, here and there, with rusty spots the
color of dried blood. “And check.” A snap
of her ingers and the straight-razor disap-
peared again.
“NO NEED TO CHECK THAT.
NO NEED TO BRING IT FORTH
WITHOUT F LESH TO CARVE
AND BLOOD TO SPILL.”
As always, when he (“it, not he,” her
mind insisted) spoke, Jo visualized Mr.
White as a short, dumpy man dressed in
a white linen suit. A patrician nose jutted
aggressively out of the face, above a bushy
mustache. Blood-red eyes ixed her with a
stern stare.
“Uh huh,” she said. “Right.” She shoved
the lashlight into her backpack and hefted
it onto her shoulders.
She took a minute to check out her
reflection in the full-length mirror beside
the door. Auburn hair was pulled back
into a ponytail, secured by several rubber
bands. She wore a battered leather jacket
over a plain black T-shirt, blue jeans,
and scuffed hiking boots. The green of
her eyes was momentarily overlaid with
shining red.
Ascent
Ascent
By John Newman
Ascent
“I ASSUME THIS
TEDIOUS APPRAISAL
OF YOUR APPEARANCE
INDICATES WE’RE NOT
UNDERTAKING THIS
ADVENTURE ALONE THEN?”
She heard a skittering sound behind
her and paused to throw a glance over one
shoulder. The cavern was lit by iridescent
blue fungus that grew in clumps on the
ceiling, loor, and walls. The light relected
gently on the surface of a still pond, giving
the black waters the appearance of a starry
night sky. The cavern was quiet, peaceful,
and even tranquil. With a shrug, she re-
sumed climbing into the hole. The passage
before her angled ever-so-slightly upwards
and she inched her way forward, pulling
herself along by her ingers. Soon she was
swallowed by the darkness of the passage
and the walls seemed to press in on her,
reminding her of the weight of stone and
earth surrounding her. She fought down her
rising panic and continued to inch along.
Time passed with agonizing slowness. The
passage veered to the right and when she
rounded the corner she could see light ahead
of her. Excited by the prospect of leaving
the tight passage behind, she attempted to
increase her pace and the thin fabric of her
shroud caught on a rock.
Swearing softly to herself, Jo tugged on the
shroud. She had almost worked it free when
she heard the sound again, the skittering,
coming from the inky black of the passage
behind her. Tck-tck-tck-tck-tck.It sounded like
the noise she’d guess a spider would make if it
were big enough to make a sound. Tck-tck-tck-
tck-tck.She could picture each hairy leg being
picked up and set back down again, each tck
created when exoskeleton clicked against
the stony bottom of the passage. She was
mesmerized by the sound, even as a part of
her screamed to get away. Seemingly of their
own accord, her hands ripped the shroud free
from its entanglement. Tck-tck-tck-tck-tck. It
was right behind her now. She could feel its
presence in the passage. Something cold and
wet touched her foot. Something dry and hor-
rible caressed her ankle. With a speed born of
fear, she squirmed up the passage and out of
the hole. The light
…
Pain exploded in her skull.
“Nope. Reese is meeting us at the coffee
shop. Like I’d really venture down below all
by myself.”
“HOW TIRESOME.”
She could feel him (it) yawn.
“I THOUGHT WE HAD
SEVERED OUR TIES WITH
THAT IRRITATING BOY.
YOU SHOULD HAVE
LET ME DEAL WITH HIM.”
The straight-razor reappeared in her
hand. She shook it as though shooing a ly
and the blade vanished.
“I think the Harridan might not have ap-
proved of that,” she said. “We don’t need to
tangle with that nasty old hag. Reese knows it’s
over. He’s just coming along to help.”
“AS YOU THINK BEST.”
He (it) sounded bored.
She walked out of her apartment, locking
the door behind her.
* * *
The pain in her head subsided, and with
it all memory of the pain. For a moment she
stood dumbly in front of the hole, trying to
remember what she was doing.
“Mr. White?”
Silence.
“Josephine.”
The voice was calling her again.
“Yeah. Right. I’m coming,” she said and
started to climb into the hole.
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