NPC Character Sketches Pt 1

Clean up, isle top secret: Worker at PCA 

I told Rachel I wouldn’t smoke any more, but here I am. In my car. Trying to figure out if going to work is worth it. The PCA, Paranormal Containment Agency. The name is a ghost on reddit, and haunting phantom of conspiracy theorists. Yet, I look at the building, a literal bigfoot in a concreate jungle of a large city. Its not all what is cracked up to be.  

I told Rachel I would stop drinking, yet…I don’t know how to kill memories. I work on a clean up team, but I’m not a janitor. Hiding the evidence. Hiding the shadows in the shadows. Sometimes I wonder if I were to just leave something at a scene what the butterfly effect would be…not on purpose but accidentally on purpose.  

I told Rachel I wouldn’t quit, But I smoke an cigarette and swallow some liberal ounces of Jack before I go to work. I don’t want to see things. I just want to do my work. But I don’t like the work. One does not simply quit the PCA. They out process you, everything here is a fucking process. The process has a process so that the larger process can be complete.  

Things I tell Rachel don’t mean much because there is always one constant, I wake up. Kiss her, she hands me lunch, I go to work. I clean up messes made by mythical things, griffins, leviathans, vampires…oh my goodness they cause a mess. I go home and try not to let the sight of it haunt my sense of being human. I still smoke because it’s the damage I’m in control of…I still drink so I no longer feel the reality hidden away from the world. I don’t quit because I still want to remember Rachel. 

Convert: Meeting Antonious 

The man had hope in his eyes, so I followed him. I never thought in a million years I would follow charismatic leader, cults of for dummies, yet I became a dummy because followed him to the gates of hell.  

The man had hope in his eyes. In my darkest moment he reached down to grab me. I was broke and broken yet, he lead me to healing. The world says many things about him. Cult leader, criminal, terrorist, but I found hope in his message. His eyes have cosmic pull while his enemies are earthly minded.  

The man had hope in his eyes. I fought a war for the man. The hope in eyes brought life to my body. In the trenches fighting for him he came to see me. I lost an arm for the cause, and he embraced me tight. The man had faith in his touch.  

The man had hope in his eyes. When he went missing, my hope was never lost because I could always remember the hope in his eyes. When I found him in the wildness. He found hope in my eyes and the favor from years ago was return in full.  

The Devil We Made: Malkazir and gods 

We made our devil. We have ruled over man for eons. Bashing them against the seas of sacrifice and imperative virtue. Yet he is coming.  

We made our devil. We have toyed with humanity for millennia basking in the joy of taking all their vitality for our pleasure. Yet he is approaching.  

We made our devil when we told humans our will is beyond virtue. He is the vengeance of all the layered years of finite beings becoming tired of being ruled by being who have treated them so long.  

We made our devil by telling mankind our contradictory will expecting them to never strike back. We made his heart, weary of blind obedience, tired of the chasm between mortals and immortals.  

We made our devil by rebuking mans desire for growth, instead of being part of it. I look my devil in his eyes. The orange blaze an reminder that sentience will always ask why no matter if we rebuke it, call it sin, or try to stamp it out. My devil is the detail thinking mankind will ever be subjugated.