Javelda walked them through the front hallway, past large painted portraits of decrepit old witches. They approached a large open doorway into a large room. A large circle of people in dark robes sat cross legged in a circle on the floor. It was dimly lit by candelight, and its walls seemed to be slowly melting into themselves.
“Here in the left wing is where we hold our seances. Only fifteen chickensfeed for your first thirty minutes, if you’re interested. They’re quite popular. Don’t speak too loudly though dearies, you’ll interrupt their concentration.”
Javelda led them past that room further down the winding hallway. Pamela thought she saw a couple of boards in the ceiling and floor slide around, giving away to strange bloodshot eyes. Javelda noticed her squirming at them.
“Oh yes dearie isn’t that a marvelous feature? Don’t worry nothing’s actually looking at you through the walls. We had those eyes inspelled in here earlier this year. A couple of the other witches suggested it was a bit of a waste of money and that we ought to just make all the eyes in the paintings move, but that’s so played out and overdone, and I mean come on look at the aura it creates. Eee-hee-hee-hee!”
Pamela and Green Garey were not entirely comforted by Javelda’s reassurance. The cackling really wasn’t helping. Neither were the loud screams, whipping sounds and chain rattling echoing from somewhere in the building that were getting louder and louder until the reached a thicc steel door.
“Why you two look absolutely pale as unripened plums! Don’t worry about all that racket dearies it’s perfectly safe in there I assure you.”
“OH MY COCK! PLEASE!”
CRACKKKK
“It’s actually even more popular than the seances, if you’d believe that. It costs a little more than them too.”
SSSSSSS
“OHHH COCK IT BURNSSS!”
“Don’t worry dearies the Church of the Chickens has blessed this establishment we’re not heretics or anything.”
CSHHHHHKKKKSHHHH
“AHHH! I’M IN TERRRIBLE PAINNNN!”
“Well dearies I think we’ve all gotten our fill of this door so if you’ll follow me we’ll just keep—”
KSSSSHHHHKSSSSHHHHH
“AAAAAAOOOOOHHHHH YESS!”
“—we’ll just move on along now dearies yes follow me follow me.”
“Yaarg! Now just yee two wait a second. AYE ought teh help that there woman in there.”
Javelda chuckled. “Trust me dearie, they don’t want your help.”
CRACCCCKKKK
“OHHHH HELP ME HEEEEEEELPPPPP OHHHHHHH PLEASE!!”
Javelda sighed.
“Miss Javleder! AYE cannot stan’ AYE-dly b-AYE an’ ignore that woman’s sufferin’! Yaarg! AYE ‘ave a sworn duty to the Royal Gourd to protec’ those that be needin’ the protec’n’!”
SSSSHHHHHHHKKKKK
“OHHHH I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH LOOONGER I’LL LAST!”
“Green Garey I’m actually not sure what part of the code of the Royal Gourd you’re referring to. Mostly we just oversee stolen property. Things of that nature.”
Green Garey held himself like a troll in the sunlight, and grimace affixed to his face fiercer than a chisel.
“Yaarg! Hamn ’t all then. Let’s shove off.”
On they walked down the hallway. The moans and whipping and clanging eventually grew faint under the sound of blood spurting, knives of many shapes stabbing and slicing, and the horrified bleating of a goat.
As they drew closer, they saw a large dodecagram in wax with a goat drawn and quartered in the middle. Four hooded figures surrounded the dodecagram, chanting in Turkish.
“Gobble gobble gobble. Gobble gobble gobble gobble,” gobbled the first.
“Gobble. Gobble, gobble gobble,” gobbled the second.
“Yaarg!” Green Garey grimaced. “Disgrosstin’ muddy bass turds.”
“Don’t worry, dearie. The goat’s immortal and can’t magic pain. He’s just a wonderful showman.”
“Why thank you for saying that, Javelda,” replied the goat in a silky baritone.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Just speaking the truth, light grey Peter.”
The hooded figures froze.
“Gobble gobble! Gobble…gobble?” gobbled the third figure.
“Gobble! Gobble gobble, gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble,” argued the fourth. They had broken the chant and were now argue-gobbling at each other.
“Sorry about that, y’all,” cooed light grey Peter, “I’ll go back to playing dead now.” He stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes deep into the sockets. He even appeared to stop breathing.
Pamela’s notepad was pratically on fire with nudity. Dripping with fleshy nakedness. Radiating sickeningly with imagined flesh. She’d need new paper soon. She had naked sketches of Green Garey, naked sketches of Javelda, naked sketches of all the people sitting together on the floor for their seance (that was a fun one), naked sketches of the woman and whoever and whatever else that had been behind the steel door (Pamela was not sure whether she found that one fun or not but it had been a hood challenge), and now naked sketches of these strange sacrificial cultists huddled around light grey Peter.
“We’re not cultists, you know,” asserted one of the cultists, “we’re witches, just like Javelda.”
As this clutist witch stepped forward and lowered their hood, Pamela noticed it was a man. She had to start re-sketching them.
“Yaarg! A man-witch! Step away, yeh hamned fairy!”
“Please do try and bring more polite guests to our chambers in the future, Javelda,” asserted the not-cultist man-witch.
Green Garey stepped between the non-cultist man-witch and drew a cutlass. “Avast yerself! This ‘ere woman-witch ‘as been nothin’ but kind to ees, where-bein’-as ye, ya blimey beluga, ‘ave been nothin’ short of a big pile of gull droppins! Why AYE bet ’twas ye who cast the spell that dumped all the ‘plogasm all over me ’n me partner here!” He gestured to Pamela and the globs of exoplasm still stuck to her face. Noticing them she attempted to wipe herself with little success.
The non-cultist man-which snickered. “Where are you from, you blithering old heathen? Why should I care what you think?”
“Shut yer ‘ard tack ‘ole! Now AYE ‘ave ‘ad it up to ‘ere,” Green Garey garbled, lifting his palm up to his gut, “with yer ‘ootenaynay-ish bee-‘ive yer!” Green Gary turned to Pamele “AYE bet ’twas ‘E who sicced theh battalion ah witches on that there skAYEtrain las’ evenin’!”
Pamela blinked. “Green Garey I appreciate your enthusiasm but I haven’t seen any evidence to point to any of these witches being involved in case 83A.”
“Listen to the lady, Gare Bear.”
“Shut yer yap ye hamned wizard!”
OOOOOOO
Everyone gasped. Even light grey Peter, who promptly pretended to die again.
“What the cluck did you just clucking call me?”
Green Garey was thrown a little off guard. “A hamned wizard? It’s what ye AAAARGH!”
Javelda blinked ferociously. “Green Garey I’ll chalk it up to your ignorance being a foreigner and all but you ought to know witches and wizards are very different.”
Pamela nodded. Everyone in Caldonia knew witches used wands to cast spells, whereas wizards just touched themselves in strange ways. Witches found wizards quite vulgar, and wizards found witches quite prudish.
Green Garey, jiggling with rage jelly, clenched his fists and sheathed his sword. Javelda led them through the rest of the witches’ guild building, where they found many witches, man-witches and sandwhiches (there was a luncheon on the second floor), but no evidence at all that any of them were involved in the skytrain raid.
Javelda bid them adeu and cast off their exoplasm with her wand. Pamela walked alongside Green Gary as he limped on his peg leg and adjusted his eye patch, and pulled out a folded tri corner hat, placing it on his head to sheild him from the harsh double sunlight as they walked through the the town square of BigHead, looking for anything other than skyrates.