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With a powerful form of touch-based psychic powers, he solves crimes of a supernatural nature, and finds out about the mysterious organization: Noxumbra.", "count": "17", "submission_left_submission_id": "3246341", "submission_left_file_name": "4895916_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt1.doc", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/4895/4895916_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt1.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/4895/4895916_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt1.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/4895/4895916_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt1.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120", "submission_right_submission_id": "3246345", "submission_right_file_name": "4895919_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt3.doc", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/4895/4895919_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt3.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/4895/4895919_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt3.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/4895/4895919_XPAuthor_case_6_-_hoard_master_pt3.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "Ginny's Backtory revealed! After the incident with Rachel, the undead rat has been locked into the most secure cell in the world (according to Noxumbra) and Tag must figure out what set her off. And what he finds is very concerning. Not just for Ginny, but for all of Noxumbra.\n\n[b]Chapters[/b]\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/2919475]Case 1 - The Wolf[/url]\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/2937556]Case 2 - Noxumbra[/url]\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/2953837]Case 3 - Hydromancer[/url]\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/2964544]Case 4 - The Favor[/url]\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3084693]Case 5 - Ancient Stalker[/url]\n[b]Case 6 - Hoard Master[/b]\n - [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3246341]Part 1[/url]\n - Part 2 <~ You are here\n - [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3246345]Part 3[/url]\n - [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3246347]Part 4[/url]\n - [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3246348]Part 5[/url]\nEpilogue\n\n- - - - -\n\nA massive thank you to my top tier subscribers:\n[fa]booleangemini352[/fa] | Sedyna | [iconname]typhoonthesuicune[/iconname] | [fa]Kaden22[/fa] | [fa]jafferroshak[/fa] | RoleplayCentral\n\nIf you would like early access to my stories, polls, monthly commission raffles, weekly previews and updates, behind the scenes talks, and other bonus content, please consider subscribing to my [url=https://subscribestar.adult/xp_author]SubscribeStar[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Ginny's Backtory revealed! After the incident with Rachel, the undead rat has been locked into the most secure cell in the world (according to Noxumbra) and Tag must figure out what set her off. And what he finds is very concerning. Not just for Ginny, but for all of Noxumbra.

Chapters
Case 1 - The Wolf
Case 2 - Noxumbra
Case 3 - Hydromancer
Case 4 - The Favor
Case 5 - Ancient Stalker
Case 6 - Hoard Master
 - Part 1
 - Part 2 <~ You are here
 - Part 3
 - Part 4
 - Part 5
Epilogue

- - - - -

A massive thank you to my top tier subscribers:
\n\t\t\t\t\tbooleangemini352 | Sedyna | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttyphoonthesuicune\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttyphoonthesuicune\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
| \n\t\t\t\t\tKaden22 | \n\t\t\t\t\tjafferroshak | RoleplayCentral

If you would like early access to my stories, polls, monthly commission raffles, weekly previews and updates, behind the scenes talks, and other bonus content, please consider subscribing to my SubscribeStar", "writing": "[center][b][u]Noxumbra Files[/u][/b][/center]\n[center][b]Case 6: Hoard Master[/b][/center]\n[center][u]Part 2[/u][/center]\n[center]By XP Author[/center]\n\nThe year is 1498 AD. In a little over 200 years, what would become Alta Ferro would first be founded as a coastal port city. It would not be another 280 years before The Order of The Nightshade would first found what would become Noxumbra. It would be almost almost 520 years before Victor 'Tag' Tagdt would be born. All things very important to her over 550 years later. Of course, she knew none of this now. The new world had only just been discovered, and it would not be for a long time that the greater continent would even be found. By that point, her murder would have already happened.\n\nHer name was Genevieve Isabeau Marie Duval d'Troyes, third daughter of Louis Maurice Duval d'Troyes, a lesser noble of the French city of Troyes. She was considered somewhat strange. It had little to do with the rat's dark brown fur, as this was common. Nor did it have to do with her attitude, as she was considered by many to be a very proper lady. It was simply that at 26, she remained unmarried. She had once been betrothed, but the man she was to marry died of scarlet fever before they could be wed. It left her in an unfortunate position, neither spinster nor widow. It also left her craving for companionship, and naive to love.\n\nSo she made for an easy target for the charms of one Alphonso Piazza, a merchant from the city-state of Venice. Near her age, a widower, and honey-tongued. The copper-furred rat was also quite handsome, and as a merchant, a man of some means. It took little time for him to charm the naive young woman away into his arms. Being so desperate for companionship of a more intimate nature, it took even less convincing to charm her into his bed. Her first time was with a man she had only known for a scant few weeks. As was her second, third, and tenth. She felt deeply in love with him, and promised she would marry him, despite the wishes of her father. So enamored was she with the man that she was willing to forsake her title and nobility to run away with him into the night.\n\nUnfortunately, it was that title and nobility, and the money and power that came with it, that Alphonso was truly after. Finding she had given it up for the sake of him only infuriated him, but he hid it from her... for a time. It was not until they had left the safety of the city that he would make his true self known to her. That night was not a pleasant one for Genevieve. There was no love in what he did with her, no gentleness, only pain. The pain of his teeth and claws tearing at her flesh, his violent violation of her womanhood. Though these were nothing compared to the pain of the betrayal as he spitefully told her that he felt nothing for her. Calling her a fool, that he had only planned to use her, and throw her away, like his last three wives.\n\nHe also revealed that it was he who had killed them all, his fingers wrapped about her neck in the same way, squeezing the life out of her. Even once her heart had stopped, her body limp under him, he did not stop the violation. Once he was done with her, he dropped her body into the river to float away, broken and forgotten. Her body may have died, yet her anguish at such a betrayal lived on. It burned inside of her heart, even without a beat. Instead of her spirit leaving her, or staying to haunt the location of her final rest, it lingered, festering within her flesh. Anguish turned to hatred, and soon to fury. Primal and burning. Through that alone, she refused her rest, rejected what may lay beyond, only focused on one thing: Revenge.\n\nShe would not know what a leyline or magical nexus was for centuries, but she had been dumped in one. With this, her body moved again, her soul taking control of it once more, fueled by rage alone. Time had passed. She rose from a shallow grave, bursting through in the dead of night like a creature of nightmare. Her body no longer had the curvaceous figure of a young and healthy woman, but thin and gaunt. Her fur was no longer a deep, earthy brown, but a deep black that seemed to trap the light. Her eyes no longer the soft green of grass, full of caring compassion and hopefulness. Instead they burned ember red, as if windows to hell itself. She was undead, but no mindless, shambling zombie. She was something more. A wraith of wrath, a specter of hate. A revenant.\n\nShe still had her mind, her cunning, her intellect. But now she had a willingness to do anything to find the man that had wronged her, fueled by the singular focus to repay him. It took many years. She followed rumors and hearsay across all of France, across Spain, and even into England. He married and killed again, leaving four more women in his wake, once beautiful and full of promise, now dead and forgotten, taken only for what he could gain from them. Only three had any means for him to take. The last had simply been for his own pleasure, simply wanting to watch her die. It was that last woman that would be his undoing.\n\nShe finally tracked him down in what would become Germany centuries later. She followed rumors of the young woman, daughter of a baker, who had fallen for a silver-tongued wanderer, only to be found with her neck broken. He claimed it was from a fall from horseback. He left the town quickly, claiming to be too distraught to stay any longer. It had happened only three days prior, and the man's description was the same. She had found him!\n\nHe was not hard to track from there. He did nothing to hide himself, and her senses had grown keen and sharp, more acute than when she lived. And his scent was forever burned into her mind. She found him on the road, and wasted no time. She pounced upon him, ripping his horses to pieces in seconds so he could not escape upon them. At first, he did not recognize her, thinking her a demon from hell. He was not far off. His utter dread and horror upon her saying her name was satisfying. But it was not enough.\n\nHis death was not quick, but it was bloody. She tore his flesh open, removing it piece by piece. Fingers, then feet, then limbs, his tail, his eyes, his teeth, his tongue. She disassembled him part by part. By the end, he was barely recognizable as a person, let alone as a rat. Only then did she finally allow him to die, ripping his chest open to jam her fingers through his heart and rip it free of his chest. He was already dead before she was finished consuming it. Her vengeance fulfilled, her fury quenched, her bloodlust sated, she no longer had purpose to remain. Her soul left her body, her purpose complete. She fell to the ground, once more nothing but a corpse, laying beside another. This was how revenants worked.\n\nSo it was with some surprise when she woke once more. It was like something had called her, but there was no name to it. Her fury was still there, but diminished. Less of a raging inferno, and more a smoldering fire, like the heat of a blacksmith's furnace, ready to burn all but controlled and contained... if barely. She was in control of herself, no longer with the single minded desire to seek one person. Yet she did not know what to do. Or where she was. Or when. She learned quickly that a great deal of time had passed. Several centuries. She found out quickly how much. The world had continued on, and had a great many things change. It was 1972. The country was somewhere named Germany. Things called cars had replaced the horse and carriage, metal birds called planes could transport someone across the world in mere hours, and buildings could grow taller than the largest tree by tens or even hundreds of times.\n\nShe wandered Europe, but eventually felt a calling to see the new world, or what everyone was calling it these days: America. They titled themselves the land of the free, the shining beacon of hope and prosperity in the world. It was mostly lies and propaganda, of course. Yet even the most meager of this new world lived a better, longer, and cleaner life than most commoners in her time. It all fascinated her, the metal and lights, the progress of technology. Yet the people. The people were the same. The greedy, selfish, and self-centered living right along side the kind, selfless, and altruistic, like some cursed form of cosmic balance.\n\nIt was not long before she was discovered by Noxumbra. Not that she made it hard for them to track her down. At first, they had assumed she was a zombie of some sort, but when she spoke, they thought instead she was some lich or necromancer. The thought to fight them came to her, but she realized that she could... choose not to. So she let them take her. She met the director, a woman, some kind of rodent called a jerboa, and older than her looks. Beatrice Tagdt. She was offered something she did not have. Something she found she desperately wanted. A purpose.\n\nIt would not be for another 30 years that she found something else she had wanted. A partner. None other than the director's own son, Victor. A man with an unusual power to see visions of past events through touch. He also smelled of magic, coffee, sadness, and cinnamon. He was kind, a little uptight, but honest and spoke his mind. He also didn't act around her like everyone else, as if she were about to snap at the slightest provocation. The only other person to treat her like this was Beatrice. She grew to respect him quickly, even if he was weak and poor in a fight. Perhaps she could call him more than simply a partner and friend... if such a thing was allowed for an undead monster like her.\n\nThen the mouse came into his life. Short, thin, his own age, smart, magically gifted, pretty, and clearly attracted to him, even if he was as oblivious as always. Worse, he was attracted to her, as well. She could smell it on them, how much they wanted each other. Her anger had already been growing again, for reasons she did not know. Now, it had a target again. Something else she had lacked for a long time. She did what she could to keep it smothered, not wanting to be the monster everyone thought her as, but her fury only grew. It grew on its own, like someone or something was adding fuel to a fire raging in her soul, building pressure within to a breaking point\n\nSo when Rachel came in, smelling of him. Of Tag. Not just of the man, but of the lust they had shared, of his seed, his passion, his... love. The rage was too much. She lost all control again, and she gave in. She wanted to give in. Something... someone... told her it was okay to give in. And she listened.\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nTag barreled down the hallway, nearly knocking several people over in the process. He burst into infirmary. \"Where... where is...\" He gasped, panting for air, having practically sprinted half way across town to get here.\n\nDoctor Sarah looked up, calm as ever, despite his entrance. \"Hello, Victor. I do believe you were already told of her condition.\"\n\n\"I'm over here.\" Rachel called out from nearby. \"I'm fine.\"\n\nTag was about to bolt over, but did manage to stop himself. He looked instead to Sarah, the angelic doe giving him a smile and a nod of permission. Still panting, he moved over to the mouse. \"What happened? Are you sure you're alright?\"\n\nRachel smiled. She was sitting on one of the exam beds, a bandage around her forearm. \"I'm okay. I only got a bit scraped up. Nothing that won't heal in a day or two.\"\n\nHe breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, his mother had said Rachel was alright, but he had seen Ginny fight first hand. He knew exactly how skilled she was. He had to see it for himself to believe she hadn't torn the mouse limb from limb. \"What happened?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Ginny...\" She hesitated, not wanting to say something bad of his partner to him. \"I don't know what caused it, but she... snapped. One minute, I'm saying hello to her, and the next she's charging at me like a feral beast. I managed to get a barrier up and pin her to a wall. Though she got a pretty good swipe at me.\" She held up the bandaged arm. \"Nothing too deep. I'll survive.\"\n\nThe doctor spoke up, though didn't look up from her paperwork. \"It might leave a slight scar. But after a week's growth of fur, it should barely be noticeable at all.\"\n\nTag let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, though his heart still felt like it was both racing and skipping beats at the same time. \"You have no idea what set her off?\"\n\nRachel pursed her lips. \"I... might...\"\n\nHe tilted his head. \"What?\"\n\nShe frowned. \"Really? How can you be a private detective and be [i]this[/i] thick?\"\n\nThe jerboa flinched. \"W-what?\" She just gave him a dubious look. \"Wait... you mean...?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Us. You. Me. Last night. This morning. That.\" She let out a breath. \"You know better than anyone how sharp her senses are. You really think one quick shower would be enough to mask... everything... from her?\"\n\nHe leaned back a little, feeling like he got punched in the gut. \"I mean... I-I didn't think she...\"\n\n\"By all the holy scripture you are dense.\" The two rodents looked at the angel. \"Ginny loves you. Or at least has feelings for you. She's been telegraphing that for... months now.\"\n\nHe looked at Rachel, who just nodded to him. \"And you think...\" Rachel nodded again. He closed his eyes. \"I should talk to her. Where is she?\"\n\nThe mouse hesitated. \"Lockup Zeta.\"\n\nHe winced. Zeta was a cell for extreme threats. \"I'll have to talk to... the director, too.\"\n\n\"That'll be easy. She's also down at Zeta. Probably waiting for you.\"\n\nHe sighed, reaching out to touch her hand, only to flinch back before he touched her with his bare hands. He instead touched her knee, covered by her jeans. \"So much for keeping our relationship quiet.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"It was going to come to light sooner or later.\" She leaned forward and gave his forehead a gentle kiss... sort of. He felt a gentle breeze of air puff between them, just enough magic that she could give him the little peck without setting off a vision. \"Go. I'll be okay.\"\n\nHe nodded, patting her knee gently before rising to his feet. \"Yeah.\" He turned to walk out. Though before he did, he looked to Sarah. \"Sorry... for barging in.\"\n\nSweet as always, she gave him a smile. \"I understand. Go talk to Ginny. I'm sure seeing you will do her some good.\"\n\nHe glanced at Rachel before turning to walk out. \"That, or set her off again...\"\n\n[center]* * *[/center]\n\nLockup Zeta was in the deepest levels of the Noxumbra facility. Buried well under the place, deep enough that even the strongest of monsters would have trouble digging their way out. There was one holding cell, encased within two feet of tempered tungsten, titanium, and other metal alloys, warded by magical seals, and resistant to dragon, phoenix, and hellfire. Theoretically, nothing short of a demigod level being could possibly escape. Currently, it held a single captive. A small rat of only 5'5\" height, and thin in frame. She was one of the most dangerous creatures to walk the halls. And she was curled into a ball in the corner.\n\n\"How long has she been like that?\" Tag asked his mother.\n\nThe director looked at him. \"Pretty much since she walked in there.\"\n\nHe nodded, peering through the tiny window in the vaulted door. \"Has she said anything?\"\n\nBeatrice let out a heavy sigh. \"She said she was sorry. A lot. Once she was in control of herself, she pretty much turned herself in. Almost demanded she be placed in Zeta. For a second, I thought she might start crying at some point. Though I don't think she's physically capable of it anymore.\" She tilted her head a little. \"She said to specifically tell you she was sorry.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"I'd like to go in and ta-\"\n\n\"Out of the question!\" The woman's expression turned to a scowl. \"The only reason she didn't eviscerate Rachel was she was quick enough to hit her with a shield spell to hold her while backup came to assist. It took seven mages to hold the spell in place before she came back to her senses!\" She pointed to the door. \"That cell has every seal, block, and ward against magic we know placed on it. And you can barely use magic as it is. If you walk in there and she loses control again...\"\n\n\"She won't.\" He finally looked at her, his eyes stern and serious. \"Not against me.\"\n\nThe woman's scowl grew. \"How can you be certain?\"\n\nHis expression didn't change. \"Open the door and let me talk to her.\"\n\nThe two jerboa stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Eventually, the elder relented. \"Fine.\" She sighed and started typing buttons on the keypad next to the door. \"I'll give you five minutes. Then I'm pulling you out of there.\"\n\n\"You'll give me as long as it takes.\"\n\nShe took in a breath. \"Victor...\"\n\n\"Do you want answers?\" His voice was as hard as the metal of the vault.\n\nAgain, she relented to him. \"Fine.\" The door started to hiss as it slowly opened. \"But if she attacks you-\"\n\n\"She won't.\" He stepped inside. \"I'll let you know when I'm done.\" He just got a grunt in response, the door hissing once more as it closed behind him. The loud [b]THUD[/b] echoed around the room with an ominous finality. He looked at Ginny. She lay completely naked, curled up in a tight ball in the corner, her tail tucked close to her body. He had seen her in many ways before, but this was the first time he had ever seen her like this. Vulnerable.\n\n\"Go away.\"\n\nHe sighed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the small cell, his back against the cold metal wall. \"You don't want that.\"\n\n\"Yes I do.\" She didn't look up, her face still buried within her arms. If anything, it seemed like she tried to curl even smaller. \"Especially you.\"\n\nHe nodded slowly. \"Yeah, I guess I can understand that.\" He took a deep breath, resting the back of his head against the wall. \"But I'm also the only one that will understand... you.\" When he didn't get a response, he continued. \"I know why you attacked.\" She stayed quiet, but he saw her ear twitch slightly. \"I don't hate you.\"\n\n\"You should.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. Probably. But I don't.\" He looked at her, then back at the ceiling. \"You could have told me.\"\n\n\"Would it have made any difference?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"It might have.\"\n\nShe shook her head a little. \"No it wouldn't. I don't deserve to be-\" Her voice caught in her throat. \"I'm an undead monster. Barely in control of my anger. Every day it gets harder and harder to hold it back. And today... I couldn't anymore.\" Now that she spoke more than two or three words, he caught a slight accent that she didn't normally have. Something she probably had worked to hide after so many years. He decided not to bring it up.\n\nInstead, he took a deep breath and held it for a long moment. \"I looked up about revenants. In the archives.\" He looked at her again. \"You only come back to hunt one specific person. Once that person is dead, you fall back to the grave. You said you were over 570 years old, so I know that person isn't Rachel. And if they were a simple mortal, then they're very likely dead by now.\"\n\nShe nodded slowly again. \"Yeah... I killed them. Over 500 years ago. What's your point?\"\n\n\"My point is... you are still here.\" He tilted his head. \"Why?\"\n\nNow she finally looked up at him. \"You don't think I've asked that question every single day since I first woke back up!?\" Her eyes flashed red. \"Every day for over 40 years, I still walk this earth when I should be long dead and gone to dust. I killed the fucker that murdered me! My spirit was at peace! And now? I'm back, the anger still burning inside of me, like a bomb trying desperately to explode! Only I don't have a target anymore!\" She bared her teeth at him. \"And when SHE came in... and I could smell that you two were... FUCKING!?\" Her anger faded all at once, leaving her looking almost deflated. \"I... I couldn't stop myself.\"\n\nHe nodded slowly. \"But you shouldn't have that anger. If anything, shouldn't it be me that you would want to kill?\"\n\nShe flinched, looking back up at him with shock. \"What!? No! Why would I want to kill you?\"\n\nTag shrugged. \"Because I betrayed you.\"\n\nShe shook her head quickly. \"No! You didn't! I... I was just... stupid and... and thought I could love someone, and maybe they could see past...\" She motioned down at herself. \"What I am. But you... you're mortal. Alive and warm. I'm... I'm cold and dead. You deserve someone who is... not me...\"\n\nIt hurt him to see her like this. \"But that kind of proves my point, doesn't it? You aren't angry at me. You don't have a target anymore.\" He motioned to her. \"So why are you angry? What fuels your rage that keeps you going?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" She answered too quickly. She was deflecting.\n\n\"I think you do.\"\n\nThe rat growled. \"No! I don't know!\"\n\nHe tilted his head. \"You do. You just don't want to tell me. Or anyone. Why? What are you afraid of?\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid of anything!\"\n\n\"You're afraid of losing control again. That's why you willingly put yourself in this cage. But why would you lose control again?\"\n\nShe growled again, balling her fists. \"I... I can't...\"\n\nHe pushed more, though he hated using her anger against her like this. \"You can't what? You can't hold it back anymore? You're doing that now.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No, it's not that...\"\n\n\"Then what are you afraid of?\"\n\nShe finally snapped, shouting at him. \"I'm afraid [b]HE'LL[/b] make me!\" The moment the words were out of her mouth, her eyes went wide in shock, as if she didn't even know why she said what she did.\n\n\"Who?\"\n\nGinny sat back, hugging her knees to her chest. \"I... I don't... know who it is. But there's been...\" She looked away.\n\n\"There's been what? Ginny, this is important.\"\n\nShe sighed, her shoulders somehow slumping even more. \"Well. Everyone already knows I'm out of my mind. Might as well just say it.\" She took a deep breath. \"There's been a... voice. Not an actual voice, but... the thought of a voice. In my head.\"\n\nHe nodded slowly. \"Telling you to do things?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. Not like... not like that. Just... pushing. Like, it's throwing logs onto the fire to keep me... angry. All the time. It doesn't really... [i]say[/i] anything. Not in words. It pulls or pushes me to be...\"\n\n\"Angry?\"\n\n\"Violent.\" She corrected. \"To lash out at everything. To stop holding back. To give in to every dark impulse. To hurt. To kill.\"\n\n\"How long have you heard, or I guess felt this voice?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I don't know. Since I first woke up in Germany? I think it's why I first came to the US. But I didn't notice it until... recently.\" She looked up at him. \"The lamia. When I thought you were about to die. I felt it push me to give in. And I did. To save you.\" She looked down at her knees. \"That's also when I first realized how much I... cared about you.\"\n\nHe blinked. \"Ginny, that was months ago. Why didn't you tell someone?\"\n\nShe scoffed. \"Yeah. Tell everyone that already thinks I'm unstable that I've started hearing voices.\" She shook her head. \"They would never let me see light again.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No. I mean, they probably would have kept you locked up for safety, sure, but...\" He winced, knowing he wasn't helping things. A thought suddenly came to him. A thought he did not like. \"You're undead.\"\n\nShe gave him a look that screamed 'no shit.' \"I'm well aware of that.\"\n\n\"No, I mean...\" He let out a short sigh. \"You are undead, a revenant that has broken the rules and come back after you got your revenge. And you're hearing someone telling you... no... [i]commanding[/i] you to act a certain way.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Okay...\" Her eyes suddenly went wide as she started to put the pieces together and follow his thread of logic. \"No...\"\n\nHe nodded. \"I think there's a necromancer at play here.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"They... they would have to be... extremely powerful. Bringing a revenant back is no easy task. And controlling one would be...\"\n\n\"Time consuming?\" He tilted his head. \"Say... at least 50 years to worm their way into your thoughts?\"\n\nShe let out a breath. \"Holy shit...\"\n\nTag smiled. \"You are not responsible for what you did. Not fully. It is someone using magic to push you to lash out.\" Another thought struck him. \"Maybe... maybe that's why I could never get a vision.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You're- Right. I haven't had the chance to tell you everything Rachel and I discovered. So, it turns out, magic messes with my visions. If I cast a spell, it turns it off for a bit. If someone else is casting a spell, it can block it. If you've been under a spell this whole time, then...\" He stopped, looking around the room.\n\nShe continued the thought. \"Then you wouldn't be able to read me...\"\n\nHe suddenly got up and moved over to her, holding out his hand. \"Give me your hand!\"\n\nShe flinched away from him. \"W-what!? Why!?\"\n\n\"This room is magically sealed and blocked in a dozen different ways. You're fully in control of yourself right now, right? No voices?\" She nodded. \"Well, maybe it's blocking him? At least enough that I might get something.\"\n\nShe nodded slowly, though was still very hesitant. She gingerly reached out. \"You better be right about this. If it causes me to lose my mind again-\"\n\nHe smiled. \"You won't hurt me. You can't. You've always stopped before hurting me.\" He wiggled his fingers. \"I trust you. So trust me.\"\n\nShe actually smiled. A small, fragile thing, but it was there. \"Okay.\" She took his hand in her own. The moment she did, he let out a shriek of agony. He flinched back, grabbing his head and staggering back before collapsing. She barely moved quick enough to catch him before he collapsed to the ground, shivering and trembling in her arms. \"Tag!?\"\n\n[center]* * *[/center]", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Noxumbra Files

Case 6: Hoard Master

Part 2

By XP Author


The year is 1498 AD. In a little over 200 years, what would become Alta Ferro would first be founded as a coastal port city. It would not be another 280 years before The Order of The Nightshade would first found what would become Noxumbra. It would be almost almost 520 years before Victor 'Tag' Tagdt would be born. All things very important to her over 550 years later. Of course, she knew none of this now. The new world had only just been discovered, and it would not be for a long time that the greater continent would even be found. By that point, her murder would have already happened.

Her name was Genevieve Isabeau Marie Duval d'Troyes, third daughter of Louis Maurice Duval d'Troyes, a lesser noble of the French city of Troyes. She was considered somewhat strange. It had little to do with the rat's dark brown fur, as this was common. Nor did it have to do with her attitude, as she was considered by many to be a very proper lady. It was simply that at 26, she remained unmarried. She had once been betrothed, but the man she was to marry died of scarlet fever before they could be wed. It left her in an unfortunate position, neither spinster nor widow. It also left her craving for companionship, and naive to love.

So she made for an easy target for the charms of one Alphonso Piazza, a merchant from the city-state of Venice. Near her age, a widower, and honey-tongued. The copper-furred rat was also quite handsome, and as a merchant, a man of some means. It took little time for him to charm the naive young woman away into his arms. Being so desperate for companionship of a more intimate nature, it took even less convincing to charm her into his bed. Her first time was with a man she had only known for a scant few weeks. As was her second, third, and tenth. She felt deeply in love with him, and promised she would marry him, despite the wishes of her father. So enamored was she with the man that she was willing to forsake her title and nobility to run away with him into the night.

Unfortunately, it was that title and nobility, and the money and power that came with it, that Alphonso was truly after. Finding she had given it up for the sake of him only infuriated him, but he hid it from her... for a time. It was not until they had left the safety of the city that he would make his true self known to her. That night was not a pleasant one for Genevieve. There was no love in what he did with her, no gentleness, only pain. The pain of his teeth and claws tearing at her flesh, his violent violation of her womanhood. Though these were nothing compared to the pain of the betrayal as he spitefully told her that he felt nothing for her. Calling her a fool, that he had only planned to use her, and throw her away, like his last three wives.

He also revealed that it was he who had killed them all, his fingers wrapped about her neck in the same way, squeezing the life out of her. Even once her heart had stopped, her body limp under him, he did not stop the violation. Once he was done with her, he dropped her body into the river to float away, broken and forgotten. Her body may have died, yet her anguish at such a betrayal lived on. It burned inside of her heart, even without a beat. Instead of her spirit leaving her, or staying to haunt the location of her final rest, it lingered, festering within her flesh. Anguish turned to hatred, and soon to fury. Primal and burning. Through that alone, she refused her rest, rejected what may lay beyond, only focused on one thing: Revenge.

She would not know what a leyline or magical nexus was for centuries, but she had been dumped in one. With this, her body moved again, her soul taking control of it once more, fueled by rage alone. Time had passed. She rose from a shallow grave, bursting through in the dead of night like a creature of nightmare. Her body no longer had the curvaceous figure of a young and healthy woman, but thin and gaunt. Her fur was no longer a deep, earthy brown, but a deep black that seemed to trap the light. Her eyes no longer the soft green of grass, full of caring compassion and hopefulness. Instead they burned ember red, as if windows to hell itself. She was undead, but no mindless, shambling zombie. She was something more. A wraith of wrath, a specter of hate. A revenant.

She still had her mind, her cunning, her intellect. But now she had a willingness to do anything to find the man that had wronged her, fueled by the singular focus to repay him. It took many years. She followed rumors and hearsay across all of France, across Spain, and even into England. He married and killed again, leaving four more women in his wake, once beautiful and full of promise, now dead and forgotten, taken only for what he could gain from them. Only three had any means for him to take. The last had simply been for his own pleasure, simply wanting to watch her die. It was that last woman that would be his undoing.

She finally tracked him down in what would become Germany centuries later. She followed rumors of the young woman, daughter of a baker, who had fallen for a silver-tongued wanderer, only to be found with her neck broken. He claimed it was from a fall from horseback. He left the town quickly, claiming to be too distraught to stay any longer. It had happened only three days prior, and the man's description was the same. She had found him!

He was not hard to track from there. He did nothing to hide himself, and her senses had grown keen and sharp, more acute than when she lived. And his scent was forever burned into her mind. She found him on the road, and wasted no time. She pounced upon him, ripping his horses to pieces in seconds so he could not escape upon them. At first, he did not recognize her, thinking her a demon from hell. He was not far off. His utter dread and horror upon her saying her name was satisfying. But it was not enough.

His death was not quick, but it was bloody. She tore his flesh open, removing it piece by piece. Fingers, then feet, then limbs, his tail, his eyes, his teeth, his tongue. She disassembled him part by part. By the end, he was barely recognizable as a person, let alone as a rat. Only then did she finally allow him to die, ripping his chest open to jam her fingers through his heart and rip it free of his chest. He was already dead before she was finished consuming it. Her vengeance fulfilled, her fury quenched, her bloodlust sated, she no longer had purpose to remain. Her soul left her body, her purpose complete. She fell to the ground, once more nothing but a corpse, laying beside another. This was how revenants worked.

So it was with some surprise when she woke once more. It was like something had called her, but there was no name to it. Her fury was still there, but diminished. Less of a raging inferno, and more a smoldering fire, like the heat of a blacksmith's furnace, ready to burn all but controlled and contained... if barely. She was in control of herself, no longer with the single minded desire to seek one person. Yet she did not know what to do. Or where she was. Or when. She learned quickly that a great deal of time had passed. Several centuries. She found out quickly how much. The world had continued on, and had a great many things change. It was 1972. The country was somewhere named Germany. Things called cars had replaced the horse and carriage, metal birds called planes could transport someone across the world in mere hours, and buildings could grow taller than the largest tree by tens or even hundreds of times.

She wandered Europe, but eventually felt a calling to see the new world, or what everyone was calling it these days: America. They titled themselves the land of the free, the shining beacon of hope and prosperity in the world. It was mostly lies and propaganda, of course. Yet even the most meager of this new world lived a better, longer, and cleaner life than most commoners in her time. It all fascinated her, the metal and lights, the progress of technology. Yet the people. The people were the same. The greedy, selfish, and self-centered living right along side the kind, selfless, and altruistic, like some cursed form of cosmic balance.

It was not long before she was discovered by Noxumbra. Not that she made it hard for them to track her down. At first, they had assumed she was a zombie of some sort, but when she spoke, they thought instead she was some lich or necromancer. The thought to fight them came to her, but she realized that she could... choose not to. So she let them take her. She met the director, a woman, some kind of rodent called a jerboa, and older than her looks. Beatrice Tagdt. She was offered something she did not have. Something she found she desperately wanted. A purpose.

It would not be for another 30 years that she found something else she had wanted. A partner. None other than the director's own son, Victor. A man with an unusual power to see visions of past events through touch. He also smelled of magic, coffee, sadness, and cinnamon. He was kind, a little uptight, but honest and spoke his mind. He also didn't act around her like everyone else, as if she were about to snap at the slightest provocation. The only other person to treat her like this was Beatrice. She grew to respect him quickly, even if he was weak and poor in a fight. Perhaps she could call him more than simply a partner and friend... if such a thing was allowed for an undead monster like her.

Then the mouse came into his life. Short, thin, his own age, smart, magically gifted, pretty, and clearly attracted to him, even if he was as oblivious as always. Worse, he was attracted to her, as well. She could smell it on them, how much they wanted each other. Her anger had already been growing again, for reasons she did not know. Now, it had a target again. Something else she had lacked for a long time. She did what she could to keep it smothered, not wanting to be the monster everyone thought her as, but her fury only grew. It grew on its own, like someone or something was adding fuel to a fire raging in her soul, building pressure within to a breaking point

So when Rachel came in, smelling of him. Of Tag. Not just of the man, but of the lust they had shared, of his seed, his passion, his... love. The rage was too much. She lost all control again, and she gave in. She wanted to give in. Something... someone... told her it was okay to give in. And she listened.

*     *     *


Tag barreled down the hallway, nearly knocking several people over in the process. He burst into infirmary. "Where... where is..." He gasped, panting for air, having practically sprinted half way across town to get here.

Doctor Sarah looked up, calm as ever, despite his entrance. "Hello, Victor. I do believe you were already told of her condition."

"I'm over here." Rachel called out from nearby. "I'm fine."

Tag was about to bolt over, but did manage to stop himself. He looked instead to Sarah, the angelic doe giving him a smile and a nod of permission. Still panting, he moved over to the mouse. "What happened? Are you sure you're alright?"

Rachel smiled. She was sitting on one of the exam beds, a bandage around her forearm. "I'm okay. I only got a bit scraped up. Nothing that won't heal in a day or two."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, his mother had said Rachel was alright, but he had seen Ginny fight first hand. He knew exactly how skilled she was. He had to see it for himself to believe she hadn't torn the mouse limb from limb. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "Ginny..." She hesitated, not wanting to say something bad of his partner to him. "I don't know what caused it, but she... snapped. One minute, I'm saying hello to her, and the next she's charging at me like a feral beast. I managed to get a barrier up and pin her to a wall. Though she got a pretty good swipe at me." She held up the bandaged arm. "Nothing too deep. I'll survive."

The doctor spoke up, though didn't look up from her paperwork. "It might leave a slight scar. But after a week's growth of fur, it should barely be noticeable at all."

Tag let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, though his heart still felt like it was both racing and skipping beats at the same time. "You have no idea what set her off?"

Rachel pursed her lips. "I... might..."

He tilted his head. "What?"

She frowned. "Really? How can you be a private detective and be this thick?"

The jerboa flinched. "W-what?" She just gave him a dubious look. "Wait... you mean...?"

"Yeah. Us. You. Me. Last night. This morning. That." She let out a breath. "You know better than anyone how sharp her senses are. You really think one quick shower would be enough to mask... everything... from her?"

He leaned back a little, feeling like he got punched in the gut. "I mean... I-I didn't think she..."

"By all the holy scripture you are dense." The two rodents looked at the angel. "Ginny loves you. Or at least has feelings for you. She's been telegraphing that for... months now."

He looked at Rachel, who just nodded to him. "And you think..." Rachel nodded again. He closed his eyes. "I should talk to her. Where is she?"

The mouse hesitated. "Lockup Zeta."

He winced. Zeta was a cell for extreme threats. "I'll have to talk to... the director, too."

"That'll be easy. She's also down at Zeta. Probably waiting for you."

He sighed, reaching out to touch her hand, only to flinch back before he touched her with his bare hands. He instead touched her knee, covered by her jeans. "So much for keeping our relationship quiet."

She smiled. "It was going to come to light sooner or later." She leaned forward and gave his forehead a gentle kiss... sort of. He felt a gentle breeze of air puff between them, just enough magic that she could give him the little peck without setting off a vision. "Go. I'll be okay."

He nodded, patting her knee gently before rising to his feet. "Yeah." He turned to walk out. Though before he did, he looked to Sarah. "Sorry... for barging in."

Sweet as always, she gave him a smile. "I understand. Go talk to Ginny. I'm sure seeing you will do her some good."

He glanced at Rachel before turning to walk out. "That, or set her off again..."

*     *     *


Lockup Zeta was in the deepest levels of the Noxumbra facility. Buried well under the place, deep enough that even the strongest of monsters would have trouble digging their way out. There was one holding cell, encased within two feet of tempered tungsten, titanium, and other metal alloys, warded by magical seals, and resistant to dragon, phoenix, and hellfire. Theoretically, nothing short of a demigod level being could possibly escape. Currently, it held a single captive. A small rat of only 5'5" height, and thin in frame. She was one of the most dangerous creatures to walk the halls. And she was curled into a ball in the corner.

"How long has she been like that?" Tag asked his mother.

The director looked at him. "Pretty much since she walked in there."

He nodded, peering through the tiny window in the vaulted door. "Has she said anything?"

Beatrice let out a heavy sigh. "She said she was sorry. A lot. Once she was in control of herself, she pretty much turned herself in. Almost demanded she be placed in Zeta. For a second, I thought she might start crying at some point. Though I don't think she's physically capable of it anymore." She tilted her head a little. "She said to specifically tell you she was sorry."

He nodded. "I'd like to go in and ta-"

"Out of the question!" The woman's expression turned to a scowl. "The only reason she didn't eviscerate Rachel was she was quick enough to hit her with a shield spell to hold her while backup came to assist. It took seven mages to hold the spell in place before she came back to her senses!" She pointed to the door. "That cell has every seal, block, and ward against magic we know placed on it. And you can barely use magic as it is. If you walk in there and she loses control again..."

"She won't." He finally looked at her, his eyes stern and serious. "Not against me."

The woman's scowl grew. "How can you be certain?"

His expression didn't change. "Open the door and let me talk to her."

The two jerboa stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Eventually, the elder relented. "Fine." She sighed and started typing buttons on the keypad next to the door. "I'll give you five minutes. Then I'm pulling you out of there."

"You'll give me as long as it takes."

She took in a breath. "Victor..."

"Do you want answers?" His voice was as hard as the metal of the vault.

Again, she relented to him. "Fine." The door started to hiss as it slowly opened. "But if she attacks you-"

"She won't." He stepped inside. "I'll let you know when I'm done." He just got a grunt in response, the door hissing once more as it closed behind him. The loud THUD echoed around the room with an ominous finality. He looked at Ginny. She lay completely naked, curled up in a tight ball in the corner, her tail tucked close to her body. He had seen her in many ways before, but this was the first time he had ever seen her like this. Vulnerable.

"Go away."

He sighed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the small cell, his back against the cold metal wall. "You don't want that."

"Yes I do." She didn't look up, her face still buried within her arms. If anything, it seemed like she tried to curl even smaller. "Especially you."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess I can understand that." He took a deep breath, resting the back of his head against the wall. "But I'm also the only one that will understand... you." When he didn't get a response, he continued. "I know why you attacked." She stayed quiet, but he saw her ear twitch slightly. "I don't hate you."

"You should."

"Hmmm. Probably. But I don't." He looked at her, then back at the ceiling. "You could have told me."

"Would it have made any difference?"

He shrugged. "It might have."

She shook her head a little. "No it wouldn't. I don't deserve to be-" Her voice caught in her throat. "I'm an undead monster. Barely in control of my anger. Every day it gets harder and harder to hold it back. And today... I couldn't anymore." Now that she spoke more than two or three words, he caught a slight accent that she didn't normally have. Something she probably had worked to hide after so many years. He decided not to bring it up.

Instead, he took a deep breath and held it for a long moment. "I looked up about revenants. In the archives." He looked at her again. "You only come back to hunt one specific person. Once that person is dead, you fall back to the grave. You said you were over 570 years old, so I know that person isn't Rachel. And if they were a simple mortal, then they're very likely dead by now."

She nodded slowly again. "Yeah... I killed them. Over 500 years ago. What's your point?"

"My point is... you are still here." He tilted his head. "Why?"

Now she finally looked up at him. "You don't think I've asked that question every single day since I first woke back up!?" Her eyes flashed red. "Every day for over 40 years, I still walk this earth when I should be long dead and gone to dust. I killed the fucker that murdered me! My spirit was at peace! And now? I'm back, the anger still burning inside of me, like a bomb trying desperately to explode! Only I don't have a target anymore!" She bared her teeth at him. "And when SHE came in... and I could smell that you two were... FUCKING!?" Her anger faded all at once, leaving her looking almost deflated. "I... I couldn't stop myself."

He nodded slowly. "But you shouldn't have that anger. If anything, shouldn't it be me that you would want to kill?"

She flinched, looking back up at him with shock. "What!? No! Why would I want to kill you?"

Tag shrugged. "Because I betrayed you."

She shook her head quickly. "No! You didn't! I... I was just... stupid and... and thought I could love someone, and maybe they could see past..." She motioned down at herself. "What I am. But you... you're mortal. Alive and warm. I'm... I'm cold and dead. You deserve someone who is... not me..."

It hurt him to see her like this. "But that kind of proves my point, doesn't it? You aren't angry at me. You don't have a target anymore." He motioned to her. "So why are you angry? What fuels your rage that keeps you going?"

"I don't know." She answered too quickly. She was deflecting.

"I think you do."

The rat growled. "No! I don't know!"

He tilted his head. "You do. You just don't want to tell me. Or anyone. Why? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"You're afraid of losing control again. That's why you willingly put yourself in this cage. But why would you lose control again?"

She growled again, balling her fists. "I... I can't..."

He pushed more, though he hated using her anger against her like this. "You can't what? You can't hold it back anymore? You're doing that now."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that..."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

She finally snapped, shouting at him. "I'm afraid HE'LL make me!" The moment the words were out of her mouth, her eyes went wide in shock, as if she didn't even know why she said what she did.

"Who?"

Ginny sat back, hugging her knees to her chest. "I... I don't... know who it is. But there's been..." She looked away.

"There's been what? Ginny, this is important."

She sighed, her shoulders somehow slumping even more. "Well. Everyone already knows I'm out of my mind. Might as well just say it." She took a deep breath. "There's been a... voice. Not an actual voice, but... the thought of a voice. In my head."

He nodded slowly. "Telling you to do things?"

She shook her head. "No. Not like... not like that. Just... pushing. Like, it's throwing logs onto the fire to keep me... angry. All the time. It doesn't really... say anything. Not in words. It pulls or pushes me to be..."

"Angry?"

"Violent." She corrected. "To lash out at everything. To stop holding back. To give in to every dark impulse. To hurt. To kill."

"How long have you heard, or I guess felt this voice?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Since I first woke up in Germany? I think it's why I first came to the US. But I didn't notice it until... recently." She looked up at him. "The lamia. When I thought you were about to die. I felt it push me to give in. And I did. To save you." She looked down at her knees. "That's also when I first realized how much I... cared about you."

He blinked. "Ginny, that was months ago. Why didn't you tell someone?"

She scoffed. "Yeah. Tell everyone that already thinks I'm unstable that I've started hearing voices." She shook her head. "They would never let me see light again."

He shook his head. "No. I mean, they probably would have kept you locked up for safety, sure, but..." He winced, knowing he wasn't helping things. A thought suddenly came to him. A thought he did not like. "You're undead."

She gave him a look that screamed 'no shit.' "I'm well aware of that."

"No, I mean..." He let out a short sigh. "You are undead, a revenant that has broken the rules and come back after you got your revenge. And you're hearing someone telling you... no... commanding you to act a certain way."

She nodded. "Okay..." Her eyes suddenly went wide as she started to put the pieces together and follow his thread of logic. "No..."

He nodded. "I think there's a necromancer at play here."

She shook her head. "They... they would have to be... extremely powerful. Bringing a revenant back is no easy task. And controlling one would be..."

"Time consuming?" He tilted his head. "Say... at least 50 years to worm their way into your thoughts?"

She let out a breath. "Holy shit..."

Tag smiled. "You are not responsible for what you did. Not fully. It is someone using magic to push you to lash out." Another thought struck him. "Maybe... maybe that's why I could never get a vision."

"What?"

"You're- Right. I haven't had the chance to tell you everything Rachel and I discovered. So, it turns out, magic messes with my visions. If I cast a spell, it turns it off for a bit. If someone else is casting a spell, it can block it. If you've been under a spell this whole time, then..." He stopped, looking around the room.

She continued the thought. "Then you wouldn't be able to read me..."

He suddenly got up and moved over to her, holding out his hand. "Give me your hand!"

She flinched away from him. "W-what!? Why!?"

"This room is magically sealed and blocked in a dozen different ways. You're fully in control of yourself right now, right? No voices?" She nodded. "Well, maybe it's blocking him? At least enough that I might get something."

She nodded slowly, though was still very hesitant. She gingerly reached out. "You better be right about this. If it causes me to lose my mind again-"

He smiled. "You won't hurt me. You can't. You've always stopped before hurting me." He wiggled his fingers. "I trust you. So trust me."

She actually smiled. A small, fragile thing, but it was there. "Okay." She took his hand in her own. The moment she did, he let out a shriek of agony. He flinched back, grabbing his head and staggering back before collapsing. She barely moved quick enough to catch him before he collapsed to the ground, shivering and trembling in her arms. "Tag!?"

*     *     *
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