The following document is a transcript taken from an audio recording on a CD[i] that was delivered to the Professor ████████████, ret., a █████████████ Kinfolk and ██████████████ in the ███████. Certain data points and names have been redacted in this copy of the transcript, and the speaker (who identifies herself as a Ms. ███) [ii] appears to have edited her own voice recording as well prior to delivery, cutting out several sections of considerable length after the original recording was created.
My name is █████████, and through my veins runs the blood of murderers, madmen and monsters. It seemed best [to me] to get this straight out there before I tell you all anything else about myself: my family has been ████████████████████ since the tribe’s very beginning, and they prowled Scotland as █████████████ before that. Yes, that means that just about anybody that’s liable to hear this recording is already my enemy one way or the other. I suppose I’m going to have to accept that and get on with my story. Maybe I [had] best explain why I’m giving you this recording as well, and even giving you my name even though I know that you all can [DATA EXPUNGED]. I’ll tell you that part once I’ve told some more of my story. What I’m after will make more sense to you all then. You got every reason to want my head on a platter, but I believe that you’ll be interested in what I have to say.
Professor, I learned about you and your work a little while back, and I [have] been struggling with the idea of contacting you ever since. I ain’t been able to get a complete copy of your study of Kinfolk, but I have gotten a hold of excerpts. What with “████████████████████████████,” I can’t blame you for keeping your work on the subject mostly off the Internet. You and that ██████ girl █████████████ are doing important work, and I wanted to expand your scope a little bit: you have not interviewed any ██████ Kin[iii]. I won’t sit down with you and answer twenty questions: you’d be an idiot to do it without [DATA EXPUNGED] and that just won’t do. The ████████████ you are involved in is a very good idea, even if most of the people in charge of it are old ex-hippies like yourself. But I am getting ahead of myself; I won’t go on about them until later.
So yeah, Kinfolk. ███████████████████ Kinfolk. That is what you are expecting me to talk about. Maybe you are expecting me to go on about how my people have all of the answers and that you all should just give up on this hole of a world and help the ████ flush it. I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to tell you that you folks are right either; I don’t know that you are. What I am going to tell you is what it is like to live among, with and for the ████████████████████.
My experience is not quite like most ██████ Kin, but it can teach you a lot about them and about how they are to their Kin, and how their Kin are to them. It helps if you know that they aren’t picky about where they breed: they have been stealing (knowing and otherwise) Kin from the other tribes ever since the ████ swallowed them up. Also, I reckon [that] they are an even more secretive lot than you all. One day they are probably going to find out that I recorded this and [DATA EXPUNGED]. I’ll talk about the Kin as a whole before I go on about my own self.
Anyway, very few of our Kin know anything at all about their █████ blood or have ever heard of ████, the ██████ or the ████. There are individuals and lineages that are favored though – some go so far as to say “Favored” like it’s a title. These few Kin get to know who and what they serve, and what taint it is that has crawled through the stream of the human family to infect them. To know that they are dormant carriers of this contagion, and that if they are lucky enough their children, brothers or sisters will grow up to be [DATA EXPUNGED]. Maybe the ignorant ones are luckier: At least they don’t know that one of these days one or more giant, mutated monsters are going to [DATA EXPUNGED].
Which reminds me: there’s this trick that the ███████ use to help keep their secret, even while they’re poaching other tribes’ Kin and getting what they want from their own ignorant Kin. They destroy their memories and build something else in the place of what really happened. People that they have kidnapped and abused forget that it ever happened, except that they get flashbacks, nightmares and hints of it without being able to put the pieces together. Sounds a little like PTSD to me, and they deliberately give it to people. Once they’ve had their fun, they let these Kin loose again to muddle through their lives going slowly crazier and crazier, and then they get to find out they’re pregnant too. Merry Christmas. You just got the gift that keeps on giving.
Some of the Kin are in on the joke, though, or I wouldn’t be telling you about this right now. They’re a pretty wildly diverse bunch, but they’re generally either totally devoted to the tribe, too scared to disobey… or short-lived. A lot of the obedient and scared ones are short-lived too, come to think of it. There’s a lot of Kin that are completely out of their minds, and even the ones that aren’t certifiably crazy have their own issues and demons in spades. I’m not going to bother telling you which type I think that I am.
Now, I reckon that the biggest difference between what our Kin do for the tribe and what other tribes’ Kin do for them is which side of the war we’re on. You all probably fetch things, provide money and crash space for your █████ families just like we do. Pretty much whatever the ███████ tell us to do, we do. We’re their eyes and hands in the world of humans, because we’re part of it in ways they can’t be. We’re the ones that can hold down regular jobs or even government offices and blend in with the masses. Doesn’t matter how weird, or difficult, or opposed to the conventional morality of the human sheep all around us it is, we’re expected to [unintelligible] do it. A lot of what we do is pretty mundane stuff though. Deliver a package here, get a job there, go to school, drop out of school, fence some contraband, buy some drugs, kidnap a few coked-up hookers for sacrifices, that sort of thing.
Of course, none of that stuff is the primary function of Kinfolk even if it is really important. You all are Kin yourself, so I’m sure that you know what their biggest job is. That’s right: breeding. The ███████ breed like crazy, and they’ll mate with pretty much anything that has compatible body parts and some things that don’t. They expect us to put out when, how and where they want us to, and however many of them want in on the action that’s how it’s going to be. Sometimes they’ll play nice and sometimes they won’t. In every case we’re expected to smile and thank them for the privilege, if we’re still conscious and capable of speech afterwards. They pawn off their kids on us too; parent of the year, ███████ ain’t. Come to think of it, that last part probably ain’t too different from the ██████.
My family (or at least a pretty good chunk of it) has known what we are for centuries. We’re more of a clan to ourselves, really. The ████ have knowingly bowed the knee to their werewolf overlords since before they were called the ████. The clan was poor Scots-Irish settlers mostly, though over time we poached a bunch of English and Scandinavian bloodlines along the way. I’ve been told some █████████████, ███████████ and ██████ Kin mixed in with us along the way. A lot of the clan still lives like hillbillies out in the back country. I [have] been out there and seen my cousins, and I tell you it’s tough to tell which Kin belong to which tribe out there, they all mix and interbreed so much. I asked one of the ████████████ about that, and he said it’s a good thing for our tribe because it gives our █████ easy access to breeding stock that can’t tell the difference, and it leaves huge areas of the countryside having our Taint in them, both literally and spiritually. Now we sprawl in a giant incestuous swath across the East Coast and beyond, like some kind of cancerous growth that never seems to get cut out no matter how much you operate. We’re not all named ███, of course. The two main branches of the clan down around ██████████ where I grew up are the ████ and the ████████. The ████████ are the side of the family that has all of the money, and ours is the part that does most of the grunt work. My distant cousin █████ lived in a huge mansion with a wide veranda like a real old-time Southern gentleman while my own cracker family was scratching around in ███████’s projects and trailer parks.
I knew who and what my family almost since before I knew that it wasn’t normal to be like us, and several of us transmogrified into ███████████████████ so we actually saw them directly a lot. My first cousin ████ is one of them, and the tribe gave him the deed-name of ██████████████. Everybody was real proud of him. Momma, Daddy and some of the other family members made sure to keep the old traditions alive, and I learned to speak the ancient Pictish language of my ancestors at the same time as English. When it was just us at home, we mostly used the old language, but they taught us to be careful who we spoke it around. Also, they taught us religion. I am not talking about no Southern Baptist holy roller church, neither – they taught us about the bilious glories of the ████, its ██████████████████ and the fractured ██████████. You see, somewhere along the way some ████████████ decided to favor the leaders of our family with the Ancient Mysteries. Not all of them, of course – we weren’t worthy of that – but enough to ensure that we were fanatical and faithful to their glorious cause. Oh, and obedient to the ███████████. That was always the most important part of course. I remember being taken near to (never within, and they would not show me the secret entryways either) the toxic caverns of the ██████████████████ at what humans called ███████ to listen to the whispers and murmurings of [DATA EXPUNGED].
Grandaddy was sort of a priest in the ██████████████, and he took our initiation very seriously. Before he died, he told me that he learned most of his lore from ██████████ himself. Myself, I was only ever a ████████ in the █████, having only danced the ████████████████ and been initiated. Once I completed that, the ███████████ that served as ████████████ declared that I was very clearly marked out by the ████████████ of ██████████████ as his own, and that my ████████████ (█████████) is [Indecipherable – perhaps ████████]. They figured that from there it was just a matter of [DATA EXPUNGED – mostly indecipherable]. They also gave me a special name, but that was only to be used in rituals or religious gatherings. Some of the ████████ (█████████████████ in particular) were also members of something called the ██████████████████,[iv] which I think is a kind of inner circle of the ██████████████.
The ███████ showed a lot of interest in me from the time that I was a little girl. They said that I Know, that I can feel The Secret. Once, when I was maybe nine, one of their ████████ sat me down somewhere quiet and alone and [DATA EXPUNGED]. Afterwards, he told me that he could tell that I had a link to the soul of the world like he and the other Changing ones do, even though I’m only Kin. He explained that this is part of why I’ve always felt like I’m part of everything around me – it is a connection with all life, and with the world itself. It’s why I’ve always felt like the ground beneath me was in pain, the water was poisoned, the skies wept at their violation, the critters were desperate, dying and afraid and the people were living stunted, empty lives and couldn’t even bring themselves to really care about any of that anymore. I’m not just saying that to sound like a cross between some crystal-waving wiccan and a goth, neither – it’s just something that’s part of every moment of every day, and pretty much always has been. He told me to cherish that connection, for that misery and pain are nectar to our people, and they feed their Rage and remind them that the world is becoming more theirs every day… and that they are proof that it all has to be destroyed. He also told me that this is part of why their enemies despair – they know deep in their souls that they are losing. I was never very good at cherishing all that pain and misery, myself. Why do you suppose I hit the drugs and booze so hard when I was a teenager? One part of the reason is that I was trying to drown all of that out and forget that in some way, I’m a part of everything that’s wrong with the world.
Anyway, the █████ value Kin like me: we’re closer to what they are, in a way, and we’re closer to really understanding them. They said it makes me special. Not nearly so special as they are, but still special. They also believe it means my womb is more receptive to the seed of the ████████████, and so my children are more likely to Change. So what does all that get me? [DATA EXPUNGED]
They always had high hopes for me. They rode me hard to do well in school even as a little one, and they made sure I had access to good tutors even though Daddy was piss-poor. Any time I got a bad grade, I got whipped so I kept as on top of that as I could. Actually, I got whipped a lot of the rest of the time too, to remind me who was boss. They kept a close eye on me too. The tribe didn’t have a whole lot for me to do except school until around the time I hit puberty (Daddy was a different story, though). Then cousin ████ Changed. He’d always fancied me, and he was just a little older than me. So his pack decided to break him in a bit on how we do things in this family: they jumped me and dragged me away to [DATA EXPUNGED]. I was there for a couple weeks. Long story short, my baby girl ██████ was born the following year. I was 14 years old when I had her. I don’t really know for sure who her daddy is, but I think that she’s actually ████’s baby. He was always the one that was most interested in being around her anyway. My daughter █████████████████████ is special. The ████████ predicted that she is going to Change[v]. They say she’s going to be a ███████ and a mighty strong one too. I was so little and thin and malnourished that I barely survived her birth; I don’t think that I ever really recovered. Because of my age, and because they wanted to keep me in school rather than just being a barefoot teenage momma, the family decided that my own parents would raise her as my little sister instead of my baby. As far as I know, she still doesn’t know who her real momma is. I’ve wanted to tell her so many times, but I just never had the guts to do it. All the same, I always did my best to help look after her. Well, I always wanted to anyway, when I was able to think about something other than slowly poisoning my brain.
I somehow made my way through school and even got mostly decent grades in a haze of drugs and sex, and that was where I found out that the family didn’t want to share me. I made the mistake of having a boyfriend that wasn’t family (or at least from our tribe), a boy that didn’t hate me and didn’t want to hurt me. He was one of those boys that need to be needed, so he picked girls with issues. Girls like me. That didn’t go so well. After they found out that I’d been fooling around with a regular human boy, they hunted him down and [DATA EXPUNGED] while one of them held me down and forced me to watch. They made me keep his head in a cooler in my room for a month, so I had to keep changing out the ice to keep the smell down so nobody would call the authorities. I promised that I’d never be that stupid again.
A body shouldn’t make promises like that. It was a promise I couldn’t keep. I did keep it through the rest of high school though, and then I went to community college and started studying computers. The family made me study medicine too – I reckon that there are a lot of Kin in the medical field for one reason or another. Cousin █████ helped find me a job doing IT work for ███████████████, keeping their servers from puking up their guts. That wasn’t so bad, though the subhumans that worked at the place kept trying to get in my pants. Oh, you’re so cool with your frilly cape and your thick glasses and your plastic vampire fangs. Piss off. I may have to put out for real monsters, but there’s no way I’ll do twentysomething mouth-breathing geeks that try to dress up like them. Pathetic little goblins. I did meet somebody else while I was working there, though. I was at a club after doing a pickup for the family and that’s where he found me. He was handsome, and charming, and he could get me talking like nothing else. He treated me like I was worth something. After we’d hung out once or twice, I tried to go down on him and he actually refused. [He] said he was more interested in knowing me better first. I told him all about my addictions, and about the abuse I got from the family, all kinds of things. I was pretty sick at the time, and sore and hurting from a recent beating. He put his hand on my head and [DATA EXPUNGED]. That was how I found out he was an honest-to-God ██████. He even helped purge the drugs from my system. And poor, stupid little old me, I fell head over heels for him.
Of course, once I knew what he could do I spilled the beans about my family to him, hoping maybe that he could find a way to not get himself gutted by my cousins. We started hatching a plot to grab my baby girl from momma and daddy’s place, and for the three of us to hit the road. Then he told me that he had friends in the local ██████████: ███████████. He and the █████ alpha (a big ███████████ cowboy named ██████████)[vi] said that they could stage a simultaneous raid on my place and my folks’, carry me off and get me to safety, and let the family think we [were] dead. I should have known better. There [were] two problems with that plan. Firstly, getting the █████ involved: more folks being in on something means more opportunities to get found out. Secondarily, we didn’t realize that my family was wise to us, and they [weren’t] happy about it. I can’t really confirm who it was, but I think that ████ was the one that caught wind of things. My boyfriend was planning to hit my folks’ place all sneaky like at the same time as the ████ pack hit my place and made a ruckus of messing things up. Then we waited a few days before getting things going, so we wouldn’t be all suspiciously lurking about meeting with each other first.
Well, that was a grade “A” bad idea. While we [were] playing the ‘radio silence’ game, my family was on the move. Here’s where my memory gets real hazy. I can’t really tell whether what memories I can even access are accurate, and even those are hard to dredge up. Remember that thing about my family being good at playing ‘our little secret’? What I am pretty sure of is that, when I was heading to my apartment two nights before I was supposed to be rescued, somebody got me from behind. After that, I don’t really want to know the particulars. They come to me when I close my eyes sometimes, and I have to fight them away. What I think that they did is [DATA EXPUNGED]. You know what, I’m not even going to go there, so I’ll just delete that last part. A crazy girl’s fevered speculation isn’t going to help anything, especially when even the bits of memories that I do have of it might just be fakes.
What I do know is that I was lying delirious on my couch wearing just a bathrobe when the ██████ showed up at my little coffin of an apartment. They scooped me up and hightailed it. Didn’t even have to trash my place any; my cousins had already done it for them. I do know that my family deliberately left me there for them to find. I’d been cast off and left to my fate, and they didn’t mean for my fate to be pretty. ████ dumped me in his safehouse and got word from my boyfriend: when he’d shown up at my parents’ place, the apartment had been all tore up and everybody there was splattered all over the walls. But there was no sign of my little ██████. It was obvious that a setup was in the works. The cops even showed up right after my man did, and he had to split to not get caught at the scene. He didn’t get to that safehouse fast enough to keep that █████ pack from making a rash decision though: they decided that I myself was an obvious trap, knowingly or otherwise, and I was too much of a risk to keep alive. They knew that the ███████ had been messing with my head, but didn’t reckon that they had time or means to fix it, and I was only a Tainted ███████████████████ Kin anyway so I wasn’t really worth the trouble. So I had to go. I was starting to come round and overheard that last part of their conversation, though the earlier stuff I had to piece together later.
I was sure my ticket was about to get punched and that I’d have no way to stop it, so I begged them to promise to finish me quickly, and to still try to find and rescue my baby girl. They [were] past talking to me by that point, already taking their ████████. I was feeling really dizzy, feverish and sick in my stomach. Just as they grabbed me, I saw my man run into the room and shout to me. He told me to look up a certain friend of his in another state, and then everything span away from me as howls filled my ears. Next thing I knew, I was in ███████████. He had somehow transported me across all those miles in a matter of seconds, but he had stayed behind. I’ve not been able to contact him since, and he’s never contacted me either. I reckon that he’s either dead or done with me. With power like that, he could sure get in touch if he wanted to.
Anyhow, I hit the road but ended up living with a needle in my arm for quite a while. I’ve spent a lot of time researching what happened back there, as much as I could do without letting on to either my own former ████ or that ████████████████ that I’m still alive. I’m done with my tribe. I’m done taking what they’ve got for me. I’m going to find my baby girl and get her to someplace where she can be safe and loved. I’m going to take her someplace where she doesn’t have to grow up to be like them. I’m her momma, and that’s my job.
I found out in some news searches that my own momma and daddy had died and that ██████ and I had vanished. Of course, I was one of the prime suspects. That part died down a bit when she turned up. As near as I can tell, ████ handed her off to our rich cousin █████ after he snatched her. He became her legal guardian and all, but a few months later his house got burned down with him and his wife inside. The police concluded that ██████ had died with █████ even though they hadn’t been able to find her little skeleton in the rubble. I think that ██████ hit the place, since █████ was a big shot in the ██████████████████. Then things start to get weirder. The ██████████ Gazette reports that she was found living on the streets by ███████████████ (yes, that ███████████████)[vii] and turned over to the proper authorities. From there, Social Services placed her at the ████████████ Shelter For Abused Children while they looked for a foster home to place her with.
According to her psychological profile that the shelter put together, she says that she witnessed my parents being torn apart by giant ██████████ and ███████, which carried her away and gave her to █████. Then after █████’s house burned down, they say she claims to have lived in a cabin in the woods, with a ████ of all things. They also note that she’s now got an imaginary friend that she calls “Mr. Man”. They say that she’s either got an overactive imagination or she’s delusional owing to the massive traumas and stresses associated with all of the horrible things that have happened to her. My guess is that yeah she’s been badly traumatized, but that the reports that she gave are actually as close to the truth as what she can really understand or explain. Or as far as the psychologist could understand what she was saying, partially because they also write that she’s regressed to speaking in gibberish a lot of the time. I figure that she was just taking advantage of them for not speaking Pictish so she could answer their questions without really answering them, and to just let them think she’s crazy so they will leave her alone. It’s a defense mechanism I’ve seen her use before. She’s a smart girl. When she’s grown I think she’ll be a lot smarter than her momma. I sure hope so.
From there, things get pretty easy to trace for a little while. I’ve managed to hack into some of the State of ███████’s records and trace her movements from that point on for quite a while. She was classed as a flight risk by the shelter, and they were right: once she got placed with a foster home she ran away right off. She got repeatedly picked up and shuffled from one foster home to another for a while. Then she dropped off the records and vanished altogether. That was months ago. By the time I had come out of withdrawals enough to get my act together and go looking for her, she was gone without a trace. I know she’s out there somewhere.
I’ve been doing everything that I could to find her, and I’ve gotten clean and even been able to use the link to the Beyond that I share with my big cousins to figure out how some of the █████████████ I’ve seen done works. I’ve even learned how to Step Sideways and talk to spirits like they do[viii], but I haven’t been able to learn anything that has brought my baby back to me. The spirits don’t seem to want to help me anyways. They hate me.[ix] Maybe I can find a way to make them help me even if they don’t want to.
Which brings us to now. I’m growing more and more desperate, and I have hit a brick wall. I have never had a lot of hope, but what I do have is slipping. I know that it’s too late for me, and the ██████ wouldn’t want me even if I wanted them. But it’s not too late for ██████. She’s still just a little girl. She doesn’t have to grow up as screwed up as her momma. I’m not fit to raise her; I can’t really even keep my own self in one piece. I know that you’re part of something called the ████████████, and that the ███████ has access to a lot of ears and resources. Maybe you can help me find my baby a good Kin home, where somebody decent, patient and kind, somebody that knows what she’s going to grow up to be, can give her the love that she needs. If you are interested in helping, I will contact you again[x] if I can locate her. Anyway, after I find her and set her up for a better life, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.[xi]
[i] Professor ███████’s notes: I found the CD containing this recording in a mailer on my desk one night while I was proofreading my then-latest mss. I had been so engaged for several hours without interruption when I noticed the envelope sitting directly beside my telephone. The mailer in which the CD was delivered had neither a delivery address nor a return address, and had not been there when I sat down. I neither saw nor heard anyone enter my office, and my desk faces the door. However, owing to an incident two years ago and the sensitive nature of my research, I have been prevailed upon by certain of my associates to have security cameras installed. The security footage shows a blonde haired white female apparently in her mid-twenties walking through the door and into my office carrying the envelope and placing it beside me, then departing without a word and without attracting my attention as I was so thoroughly engrossed in my work. I surmise that this young woman was in fact the narrator of this document. The reader will do well to remember that ███████████████████ Kin such as this “Ms. ███” are not to be considered reliable witnesses. The veracity of Ms. ███’s claims about her own upbringing and experiences or even identity have not been reliably verified. I have begun looking into the matter and recently hired ████████████████, private investigator and ███████████ Kin, to verify her identity and background and try to trace her current whereabouts. Mr. ██████████ has also contacted his Web-savvy tribe mate ███████████ for assistance locating her.
[ii] On the transcript and audio: It is worthy of note that this Ms. ███ speaks with a thick and sometimes nearly impenetrable American Southern (“Dixie”) accent, specifically a dialect betraying an origin in Georgia or Alabama, but with influence from an Appalachian dialect and another source that has proved more difficult to positively identify. I speculate that this other phonetic influence may lend some credence to Ms. ███’s claim that the dead language Pictish was spoken in her immediate family as often as English. Her narration has been transcribed as accurately as possible, though some portions were not sufficiently intelligible to be transcribed.
[iii] Ms. ███ does not appear to be aware that Miss ████████ has indeed interviewed a ███████████████████ Kinfolk woman, one “██████████████” (█████████████, “Unsung Heroes” P.34). The similarities and differences between these two narratives are highly instructive and worth examination. Ms. ███’s degree of knowledge about myself, Miss ████████ and the ████████████ are unsettling, but thankfully have considerable gaps as well.
[iv] King ██████████████ of the ███████████s’ House ███████ led a highly successful crusade against a ████ cult bearing the same name in 1999 that is generally considered to have either destroyed or at least quite thoroughly broken its hierarchy and membership, starting with its greatest stronghold in ████████ State. This █████████████████ may well have been one of the few holdouts that were able to escape this initial purge.
[v] Identifying which children are going to Change is of course a tricky prospect at best, but sometimes our ████████ do have visions or dreams on the subject. It appears that the ███████ place as much stock in such visions as do we.
[vi] Here Ms. ███ has dropped a name that at first seems to lend her claims credence, but then also conveniently is unavailable for independent verification. ███████████ has been able to confirm that there was at one time an urban ████ in ██████████ by the name of ███████████, and that there was a ██████████ there named ███████████. Unfortunately, the ████████████████ was destroyed by agents of the ██████, and Mr. ██████ is believed to have been a casualty. There certainly hasn’t been any news of him among the ██████████ since ███████████ fell.
[vii] Ms. ███ appears to be referring to the ███████████████ who is best known in human society as the front man for the rock band ███████████████████ and the head of the ██████████████ music label, which did at one time have its main office in ██████████. Curiously, Mr. ████████ is also known to █████ society as a particularly notorious █████, a former ██████ dissident who was cast out of his tribe for violating the ███████████████████████. His presence in this narrative is especially intriguing in light of the fact that he is known to have been one of the organizers of a pack (or “pride”) of █████ that were active for some time in ███████ as an alternative to the ████, to the ████████████ and to the pull of ██████ that so often plagues █████. Did the rebellious ████████ know what the girl is, and if so why did he not try to keep her within the protection of his own pride to be raised as one of them? Perhaps he thought that doing so would bring too much heat upon his already-fragile group from both the ████████████ and the ███████ so he opted for following official human channels instead. We have been able to easily verify that he definitely did turn the girl over to Social Services as Ms. ███ reports. (█████████, █████. “Lost And Found.” ██████████ Gazette 30 Jan. 20██)
[viii] It is conceivable that Ms. ███ has in fact somehow learned some actual █████ along the way. Some rare Kinfolk do learn perhaps one of the █████ of their Changing relatives, though I have personally encountered no record of Kinfolk Stepping Sideways without █████ assistance. Where would she have had the opportunity to learn it, and what sort of ████-Tainted ███████ could a ██████ Kin master? Would this explain why she was able to gain entrance to my own office undetected? Of course, it remains likely that she is simply either lying or has given up whatever tenuous grasp of reality she may ever have had to begin with.
[ix] Hearing the voices of hostile spirits is a fairly typical claim of paranoid schizophrenics, though it does seem probable that most of ████’s spirits would indeed be hostile to fallen Kinfolk and self-admitted (even former) ████ cultists. She has revealed that she is certainly not above using coercion to get what she wants, in any case. The woman is obviously a danger to herself and others.
[x] How does she intend for us to let her know even if we are interested in helping her? She has left no contact information. Mr. ██████████ has indicated that he believes that this is a sign that she is counting on us trying to track her down anyway, and wants to observe our attempts to do so and use that as a means of determining our intentions in the matter then use that to set up contact or a meeting on her own terms rather than ours. She was correct in earlier surmising that I am certainly disinclined to meeting alone with a mentally unstable ██████ Kin under any circumstances.
[xi] It seems very likely that, if the child is still alive or can be found, that her mother will indeed attempt to turn her over to the ████████████. The advisability of accepting this hopefully still innocent child (or the mother’s ability to survive such a hand-off) is of course doubtful but an intriguing possibility. The tenor of Ms. ███’s closing statement seems to me to imply that, should her quest be either successful or be frustrated for too long, then she will become a serious suicide risk. In any case, it is my recommendation that, if Ms. ███ can be found, she should be either mercifully put down or institutionalized to keep her from harming herself or others. Perhaps the █████████████ of the █████████████████████ would have the resources and facilities to properly capture, restrain and treat this pitiable and almost certainly insane creature.
[███’s note: Yes, in case you didn’t pick up the fact, this is a purely fictional narrative. Its narrator is the same lovely young lady that narrated my other recent Werewolf: the Apocalypse related piece. Yes, it’s weird writing something that relates to good old New Bremen again after all this time. Fun, though.]
Tags: Black Spiral Dancer, character, Children of Gaia, Cult, fiction, Gaia, Gaia Network, gaming, Garou, Glasswalker, Jonas Albrecht, Kinfolk, Linda Lee, New Bremen, oWoD, redacted, SCP Foundation, Seventh Generation, Valkenburg Foundation, werewolf, Werewolf: The Apocalypse, WoD, wta, Wyrm