My name, even if I intended to wear different one for this fine evening, is Björn Ozymandias Lucius Maximilian Jönsson.
Yeah, my parents were hippies touched in the head by a hunted thesaurus levels of weird. My first name used to be Quentin for Pete’s sakes, just because dear ol’ mum really liked the letter ‘Q.’ I’m not sure if she ever quite forgave it, but I sent that name change request in the moment I turned eighteen. I didn't quite dislike any of the others enough to get rid of them, but I hardly liked them enough to go by them.
I couldn't quite keep a smirk of as I raised my ‘staff’ menacingly in my left hand and pointed my index finger at my reflection before speaking in a gravelly voice. “My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure with it at your own risk.”
I was more than a bit too short for Dresden at 'only' about 1,8 meters, but I had the pale skin naturally and a simple black dye job had done wonders on my formerly brown hair. Together with brown contacts and a few touches of makeup to make myself look a bit thinner I frankly looked the part.
I chuckled and lowered my attempt at traditional Ozkan folk-art to the floor with a soft clack. It was really only an old hockey stick… but that bend, a few runes and a liberal scrubbing with coffee grounds had given it a passing appearance of old wood and I honestly thought it would look quite good in the rather badly lit convention room. Granted, not getting a craving for the nectar of the gods or receiving jibs about being ‘Gandalf the Dark Roast’ every time I held it would have been a bonus… but you win some, you lose some. All in all, not bad for a twenty SEK at a flea market, a few hours with a sharp knife, a rag and a handful of household waste.
I shifted my weight slightly, trying to get a feel for the clothes I’d picked. Sadly, my old black leather duster from my ‘I've seen The Matrix too many times’ period of fashion would be hotter than a sauna the real Harry had had a fight near, even if it did look the part beautifully. It even had the ludicrous deep pockets and a small mantle parts down pat. Other than that I’d gone minimalist; just a simple white T-shirt, blue jeans and an old pair of black work-boots. Preferably I’d have liked a Spider-man or Star Wars shirt to be a bit more in character, but I hadn't found one that wasn't A, ludicrously expensive B, looked like crap C, clearly a Chinese copy of questionable quality or D, all of the above.
I took an extra moment to check the rest of my 'arsenal.' Just replicas and crap, but as one of the staff and founders of DorkCon it paid to lead by example.
Chalk? I rummaged until I felt the pack of old fashioned blackboard chalk in my inner pocket. Check. Didn't expect to use it, but perhaps somebody would like me to pose.
Ball of string? Check. That one would be even less likely to see use, but eh. Not like it weighed anywhere near the rest so I'd just thrown it in.
I jumped and moved a bit to make extra sure the holsters for my 'weapons' were sitting as they should. The 'ammo' in my pockets jingled just as I'd wanted it to. Given that the replicas and holsters had cost me more than the rest of the stuff combined and squared they'd damn well better. To my relief, they all seemingly sat quite snugly.
The sword cane I still wasn't quite sure about. On one hand it really added to the 'Harry on the warpath' angle I'd based the entire costume around... but on the other it looked as cheap as it was and I still wasn't quite sure how to carry it without looking like an utter tool. 'Walking stick' and cane? Made me look as if I'd escaped from the nearest asylum. I scratched my chin I'd let grow a bit stubbly for all this and thought it over. Perhaps next year...? I nodded to myself after a few moments. Yeah, as sad as it was, that sounded best.
Just as I was about to place it into my closet I got a spark of inspiration, however. It would look a bit ugly, but if I loosed the belted buckles on my Winchester replica’s back holster just a bit, and re-tightened them...
I stalked back to the mirror and wiggled a bit. It looked hideous and improvised, but it looked like the type of hideous and improvised a man without time for anything better had done. Perfect! I had to move the bright orange peace bonding tapes quite a bit, but it was so worth it. In conjunction with the ammo loop on the holster the whole thing just looked fierce.
I checked the police style holster and the 'revolver.' The silhouette under the leather might have been a minor detail, but meh. If I'm going to wear all this crap what difference does those a couple of kilos make? Technically, the M1911 pistol replica was utterly wrong for a Harry Dresden costume but it was the best I'd been able to get on the budget I'd set. I made doubly sure the peace bonding tape was clearly visible and held the 'gun' in place. Given how stringent my homeland’s concealed carry laws are I wanted no risk of misunderstanding over a plastic prop.
The blasting rod had clattered a bit while swinging against my leg, but the rune covered ex-baton seemed quite safe and snug in the pocket I'd added for it. I couldn't quite resist and wiped it out towards the mirror in what was probably a rather pathetically well rehearsed gesture. "Forzare!" I screamed at my reflection.
I couldn't quite resist a small chuckle as I replaced the thing into its pocket. A pity I was disqualified as one of the judges, or I'm fairly certain I'd placed at least. This costume was good. I put my fist on my sides and just basked in it for a few moments.
I grunted however, as I caught sight of my 'bling' currently resting on the table under my mirror. The shield bracelet and force rings were quite good, made by the same friend that dabbles in metalworking that made my sword...
I let out a sigh and face-palmed at the sight of my pentacle amulet. It was... crap. Utter, utter crap. Robin had simply run out of time and I'd had to improvise. It was probably one of the most important bits of the costume, but the one I had was just an old shoestring, steel wire and freaking aluminum foil. I'd done my best, but it was just this pathetic mockery of the real thing. Still it was better than nothing, so I placed it on my neck.
The shield bracelet went next, slipping easily around my left wrist. The simple chain with dangling shields in different metals danced and jingled in a quite pleasing way. It felt a bit uncomfortable since I was unused to jewelry, but I'd manage.
The rings were slightly more involved. The rings made from silver were stapled in threes and almost covered my right hand like some type of improvised knuckleduster once I clenched my fist. The thumb ones looked a bit silly if you didn't know what they 'did,' but one the whole I kinda liked the look.
I swiveled in place before the mirror, giving myself one last once over. With a big smile I did my best to prance downstairs in a manly fashion.
My friends, DorkCon co-founders and equal über-nerds were waiting on my couch.
Peter, the utter geek, was seemingly already in character and raised a plastic looking hand in silent greeting. He was wearing a long coat not that unlike my own, but with a more grayish blue tint to the black and with a somewhat crude flower pattern stitched onto the shoulders. These golden lenses was glued over his eyes. I didn't even want to know how warm and sticky the stuff must be, but he seemed unfazed. The man was a bit too thin for the costume and his face was all wrong, but on the whole? Quite decent. If he got his hands on something a bit better than the current somewhat ratty coat he’d have a quality Adam Jensen costume.
Mark had gone with Nero from DMC 4, making me realize just how many long coats there was in the room. He’d cheated a little and gone with the look the character has at the beginning of the game with his demonic arm hidden in a sling, but the red and blue coat itself was spot on. I wasn't sure if it was a attempt as being in character or not, but he was so into the music on his headphones he hadn't even noticed me come down the stairs. Instead he was just bobbing his head and making his white wig dance around, utterly lost to the world of the living. He was lacking any weapons, but otherwise he’d done a really good job.
David, however… There really was only one word for it. He’d cheated. Two freakishly realistic looking swords over his right shoulder, a white ponytail wig and a professional made looking leather armor with lots of pockets and even a few ‘potions’ on it. ‘Geralt’ raised a gloved hand and uttered the most in character words I could imagine. “Sup, what’s up? Dig the costume.”
I couldn't quite stop a smile as I joined them on the bottom floor. I waved my staff at the in greeting. <”Hey. Good to know I’m not the only dofus. Great costumes everybody.”>
David’s brow furrowed slightly as he thought over the translation from Swedish to English. He was my oldest friend and his parents had moved here only about half a year after mine had, but he was a couple of years older and wasn't that great at languages to begin with. He talked quite decent Swedish nowadays, but every once in a while his landmasses still erupts with kittens, if you follow.
Peter smiled at me, before gently tapping Mark on the shoulder. Mark had seemingly actually been into the music given how he flinched slightly, but he gave a small smile and turned his MP3-player off. He let out a low whistle at actually seeing me. <”Dude, that’s a really neat costume… but isn't all that gear kinda heavy?”>
I thumped myself on the chest with my freehand. “No pain, no gain.” I shook some feel back into my hand while my friends chuckled. I’d completely forgotten the rings. “Seriously though, my back will probably regret it tomorrow, but eh. So worth it.”
I pointed an accusing finger of wizardly doom at David. “But what the crap, man? I thought we had an agreement? To make our own stuff this year?”
David just smirked at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He mimed sewing in the air. “Honestly, it’s not real armor. I've just been taking an arts and crafts thing for fun and decided to make something a bit more impressive than a teddy.”
I drummed a finger on my staff. Had to admit, I didn't quite believe him thanks to just how freakishly good his costume looked, but I still decided to take his word for it.
David pulled out his wolf amulet with a sigh and I had to fight back a snort. Now, that? I had no trouble believing it was a bad fake. The snarling silver wolf with ruby eyes looked more like a bulldog made from scrunched up aluminum foil. It was frankly rather admirably half-assed. He noticed my barely contained humor and gave me a meaningful look at my own amulet. I held my hands up in mock surrender and got a nod as he tucked his own special effects failure back under his neckline.
I pointed outside with my staff. “So, our ride here yet?”
Peter shook his head. “Nah, otherwise we’d been up by now and asked you to stop preening like a teenage girl with a date.” He chuckled dryly and crossed his arms, making the fake prosthesis gloves creak from the movement. “Seriously though, good job. I can really see why even things runs from that freaking wizard with that kind of arsenal. You've really captured what a scary bastard Dresden can be.”
I smiled proudly. Peter and Mark were unlike myself and David born and breed on these shores. We’d all met as far back as first freaking grade, and somehow had managed to hang together for all these years. Don’t quite know what I’d do without them watching my back, I’ll say that much.
I stomped over to the sofa and flopped down, making the old thing creak dangerously from all the weight. I had to be a bit carefully with the sword and rifle, but it worked. I wiped a bit of sweat from my forehead and nodded towards Peter. “How come you’re not dripping with all that leather and those gloves?”
Smirking, Peter just opened his coat slightly and shoved me the edge of a blue freeze pack in his inner pocket. “Some of us can think further than our noses, you know.”
I gave off an unhappy grunt. Dammit all, should have thought about that. Peter noticed me scowling and threw me the pack. “Here.”
The plastic glycol bottle clanked quite loudly against my rings as I caught it. I waved the thing a bit. “You sure?”
He patted his coat. “Got more. You make sure to avoid heatstroke.”
I flashed him a grateful smile before jabbing the pack into a mostly empty pocket. Almost immediately I started feeling a bit better. All this stuff might look cool, but at the same time it certainly wasn't if you follow.
“Hey, wanna see something a bit cool?” Mark said.
“Sure,” David said, accompanied by nods by Peter and I.
I gave a small clap as the sling on his arm lit up blue from within. “How’d you pull that off?”
Mark smiled proudly at us. “Couldn't figure out a way to do the Devil Bringer justice, but then I remembered that opening cut-scene.” The cast glowed blue again, and he tilted his body so we could see a small device hidden in his gloved palm. “I've got a few blue LEDs, a battery pack and a small button in this thing. Cool, huh?”
All the rest of us mumbled out affirmative statements. For what I’d initially thought a cheap fix he’d put some thought into it and actually made it rather awesome. Good for him.
A rather insistent beeping sound from outside broke our conversation off and signaled that our ride was here. We grunted ourselves to our feet and filtered out.
I got this oddest darn sensation when I passed my threshold. Like I’d walked over my own grave. Mark bumped into me from behind even.
“You alright?” he asked, looking a bit concerned.
I stepped aside and pulled out my keys. “Yeah, just… I don’t even know. Just got this strange impulse.” I shivered slightly despite the heat of my duster. It had been gone as quickly as it had come, but for a moment I’d just gotten this sense of doom. “Like I should go crawl under my bed for the rest of the night. Strange, huh?”
Mark shrugged and crossed his other arm over his cast. “Can’t say I believe in intuition or signs, but you look a bit pale. Want us to handle it and get some rest? There’ll be other Halloweens.”
I waved him off as I locked my front door. “Just a feel. I’m not canceling my plans for a shiver down my spine no matter what day it is.”
Mark barked out a laugh and headed for the white MIB style van we’d bought cheaply for all this. I couldn't tell what in the dark, but somebody had painted something on it. Probably a logo of some sort.
The van was something we’d agreed on once DorkCon was starting to become more than a dozen nerds in a basement. It was a bit of a gas guzzler, but all in all it had been a sound investment. No way we’d fit in just a normal car with all our gear, and taking the bus like this? That was just a recipe for odd looks at the least, getting the cops called on the ‘four armed loons’ at worst. Things were getting better and better year by year, but Halloween just isn't that big a holiday here in Sweden. In the big cities most at least know about the whole deal, but out here in the sticks the snooze-fest of All Saints' Day was still the big thing. Personally, I preferred costumes and candy to morose mourning of those passed… but takes all sorts and blablabla. As long as the old-timers didn't mess with my party, I wouldn't mess with their yearly wake.
Something made me turn and look at my house. Rather small, but two stories. Falu-red walls and white trims as was common around here. Not much and the yard was next to nonexistent, but it was mine. Completely paid for, even. My bookstore wasn't the biggest around, but I had a decent selection of mostly non-mainstream stuff and word had spread quite nicely. I wasn't exactly Furtuna 500 material, but I’d like to think I’d done well for myself...
So why the hell was I getting this strange sense I was seeing it for the last time? Like I was about to go away for a long time?
“You coming?” Peter shouted while hanging out from the back-doors and waving me in, cutting off my strange train of thought.
I shoot an apologetic smile at him and hurried in.
It wasn't a large van so it was a bit cramped, but somebody had placed big pillows out for us to sit on. Technically, this was a bit shady legally since we wouldn't be wearing any safety belts, but it was that or walk the two miles to the place we’d rented.
I picked the last cushion by the door and sank down. I pointed towards the driver’s compartment with my staff. “Who’s driving?”
A feminine hand waved through the small window. “Yo. So, you nerds ready to party?”
I smiled at that. Roberta was Mark’s younger sister and a good kid. She liked to give us a bit of crap for being the ‘kings of all nerds’ but frankly, I’d seen her game collection. It rivaled my book one, and considering I had more shelves then walls… Yeah, utterly hypocritical, but that was kinda the running joke.
We rode in silence, our thoughts lingering on DorkCon and the rest of the night. We’d been running the ‘con’ for a few years now and it was growing steadily. Technically, it was more of a themed movie night; an excuse to dress up, mingle and watch scary movies with a projector. It had started as just something we four did together each Halloween, but Peter had suggested one year that we tried making it a bit bigger and selling tickets. The rest, as the cliche goes, was history. We’d had a hundred and fifty souls in attendance last year and this one the ticket sales at least had been double that.
We rolled onto the Larsson family farm we were renting an old barn from within the hour. i took a few moments to stretch when getting out into the beautiful fall night. It was moist and cold, but not enough that it was distracting. I took a moment to look up. The moon wasn't quite full, but it shone brightly and clearly illuminated the racing clouds. A sea of stars sparkled above me, far more than back home in the city. It was just… enchanting, no other words for it. Really one of those sights that seemed a bit magical, as if it didn't quite belong to this world.
We all just stood and enjoyed it for a bit. Even Peter who normally tends to be utterly disinterested when I’ve found my latest ‘shiny’ as he put it seemed a bit mesmerized.
Roberta broke the moment first. “Hey, guys? Can we hurry?” She made a few jumping jacks for emphasis. “My costume isn't exactly as warm as those of you proud members of the trench-coat brigade.”
David coughed pointedly into a gloved hand; buffing his armor meaningfully with it afterwards.
Roberta rolled her eyes, something I almost missed in the gloom. She was wearing a bright orange long-sleeved shirt with baggy arms, buckle shoes, knee high socks that matched the shirt and this brightly red skirt. The whole ensemble was topped by these fake gigantic glasses. I could have sworn I’d seen it before, but I just couldn't place her costume.
I taped my staff against my forehead, thinking, for a half a minute or so before giving up. <“Alright, I can’t place you. Who’re you dressed as?”>
I realized I’d placed my foot in my mouth when all four of them stared at me. <“...You've never seen Scooby Doo?”> Roberta asked incredulously.
I smacked my forehead as it clicked. <“Sorry, just slipped my mind.”> I searched through my mind, wrecking it to find where I’d heard that name. I brightened as it clicked. <”Oh, right! That Raja Gosnell flick with the talking dog everybody panned, right? I personally thought it kinda decent, but nothing special.”>
Everybody just stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
An old woman’s head.
Out my butt.
With a witches hat on, and singing a lewd song about hedgehogs.
Then it clicked. <“Oh, right. That flick was based on something animated, right? You know I’m not much of a fan…”>
The rest of the gang face-palmed while Peter walked up and patted me gently on the head. “Dude, not knowing about Scooby Doo is the animated equivalent of asking ‘Who’s that?’ when shown a pic of William Shatner in yellow spandex.”
I rolled my eyes at my laughing friends. <“Seriously, we've been over this a million and one times. I just don’t like the type of entertainment.”> I shook my head, trying not to sound sad and consenting. <“Anything you can freaking imagine and draw brought to life... and most of ‘em just have the same boring plots and characters as your average sitcom. Sorry, but I’m sticking to my books, games and live action movies.”>
The philistines rolled their eyes at me in turn, but they shut up and we filtered in through the big double doors. The barn wasn't really anything special; in fact, it wasn't even being used anymore. But it was big and cheap.
And packed. I actually had to gently poke a path through the gently shifting sea of nerds just so that the four of us could get to the stage. Roberta waved us off and darted away to get a seat before the rush.
We climbed up to the stage, elucidating a quick applause for our costumes that made all of us smile. So worth it.
Peter started giving a small speech that I tuned out since it was all thing I already heard. The only thing that stuck out and with me was something about a couple of small dealers tables for the first time, located in an old basement nearby. I decided to check em out later, but for now, I checked the competition.
It was an eclectic mix, both in themes and quality. This rather disturbingly good Sailor Moon with an Adam's apple was chatting quietly with a simple sheath ghost with a huge rack near the edge of the small stage. I wondered briefly if they were a couple and if I was missing some joke, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves and that was the important bit.
A hulking… uh, Hulk was shivering near one of the heaters. We’d close the doors soon, but it still amused me that there was at least a few every year. Halloween night which implies fall weather, the whole thing takes place in the bum-fuck of nowhere... and you still end up with people wearing these tiny strips of latex and wondering why they’re freezing.
All in all, about half the guest were wearing costumes. Far more than I’d anticipated. There was this rather odd trend though. A lot of dudes were wearing pastel horse, unicorn and pegasus costumes. I couldn't say I cared as long as they behaved and had fun, but it seemed just a bit weird to me. I guessed I’d missed the hot trend of the moment again.
Still, I just filled it away with a mental shrug. It was more interesting than ‘grizzly dude in armor #8534’ or ‘zombie #11132575,’ I’d grant it that. The intellectual in me was a little curious what those emblems on their hips were about, but only a bit.
I put it out of mind as Peter finished the short introduction for the first movie, an old forgotten classic we’d stumbled across while researching for things to show tonight; The Raven. All the way from 1963 and starring both Vincent Price and Boris Karloff, among others. It wasn't that scary, but it had a wonderful atmosphere and a really nice wizard duel that frankly still held up to today's standards. It was based on the poem by the same name, but looser than the head of a highwayman after a incompetent hangman’s administrations. It was a good movie and perfect for the opening act since so few in the audience would have seen it... but since I had I decided to instead take the opportunity to go look for those dealers instead.
I must have made an impression, because I got a few posing request before I made it out. Granted, half of them wondered why a private eye had a wizard's staff and bling, while most of the other wondered why Gandalf was wearing leather and packing heat… but still. I was just happy to have all that effort vindicated and steer a few towards the glory of Jim Butcher.
One of my friends must have had a moment of inspiration earlier when we set up, because these nifty paths had been laid out in the ground and marked with glow-sticks. I found a note in Peter’s handwriting on a board near the entrance and lit by a small spotlight; red for the loos, blue for the rather entrepreneuring Larsson family’s kitchen where they had set up some type of small eatery and green for the dealers. I strolled down the green path, whistling a merry tune.
Then a rumble that freaking echoed from the hills clawed itself out of my stomach, reminding me I had forgotten to eat thanks to the last minute crap today. I swiveled on my feet and skipped over to the blue path instead.
I waved at the portly and grayed woman sitting outside the main farmhouse. It seemed they kept the cooking indoors, but four giant metal pots were sitting on a heat plate each on the serving table. I couldn't’ tell the dishes just from the smell, but it did smell utterly delicious and made my mouth water. <“Evening, Mrs. Larsson. You've started serving yet?”>
Mrs. Larsson waved back with a smile before readjusting the blanket she’d draped over herself. <”We have… but no need for that missus stuff, young man. It’s a bit rude, you know?”>
I flashed her an apologetic grin. <”Sorry, M-”> I coughed into my freehand at the slip, but Mrs. Larsson just laughed. <“I meant: Sorry, Siv. Just a habit from the motherland I can’t quite seem to let go. No insult intended.”>
Mrs. Larsson just chuckled at me. <”Eh, no worries. I get that you're just trying to be polite. You use the wrong tone of voice for it to be an insult.”> She nodded towards the barn. <”Last minute inspection, or…?”>
I dug out my wallet and pulled forth a fifty SEK note I then placed on the table. <“Well, I’ve already seen the movie, nothing seems to be on fire… so I thought I’d go check things out and get some food into my system.”>
Mrs. Larsson nodded at me as she scooped up the bill and placed it in her till. <”Fair enough. The left pair is sausage stroganoff and rice, while the right is pea soup and meat soup, in that order. Not exactly Halloween themed food, but we went with what we’re fairly certain people will eat.”> She jerked a thumb towards a smaller table a bit away with pitchers and thermoses on it, before handing me a paper bowl, a plastic spoon and a paper cup. <“Drinks, tea and coffee over there, and a bowl refill is thirty SEK. Enjoy!”>
I chuckled at her as I went to inspect the food. <”So that’s why the food’s so cheap. First fix is almost free, huh?”>
The old lady just smiled with a twinkle in her eye before sitting down again.
I decided on the sausage stroganoff. Not only did I quite like the dish, but it seemed like it be the one to go first. I put a brim filled bowl of the meaty goodness down on the ground, got myself a cup of Joe and unceremoniously flopped down for my feast.
Mrs. Larsson chuckled at me again while I and my taste-buds quietly ascended to home-cooking heaven. I try not to be the stereotypical bachelor and live on takeout, but cooking just isn't as fun when you do it for yourself. <”So, who’re you dressed as, anyway?”>
I swallowed my taste of gently seasoned nirvana and took a sip of my coffee before answering. <”Harry Dresden. He’s a ‘wizard for hire’ as he calls it. Imagine this cross between a PI and… well, a wizard.”> I poured deep into my dark roast, quite enjoying the look that looked back at me. I looked fierce like this. A pity it required a bit much work for my taste, otherwise I might have made a try at making it a bit more permanent. <”Imagine a grizzled private eye, but with tracking spells instead of stakeouts and you've got the gist of it.”>
She gave my fake guns and other stuff a funny look. <”And the arsenal fit for a small fiefdom?”>
I couldn't help it, I barked out a laugh that almost made me spill my coffee. <”Let’s say the series gets a bit dark. The first book has him track down a warlock serial killer that makes his victims hearts explode out of their chest… and then the later books get worse.”> I took another bite out of my bowl as Mrs. Larsson turned slightly green for some reason. <”Don’t get me wrong, they're great books. They just get a bit grim between the wisecracks and moments of awesome.”>
Mrs. Larsson shrugged and held up a book of her own. The title, ‘Taken by the T-Rex’ and the cover of a lightly clad lady and a… well, T-Rex made my ears almost burst a flame. The old biddy let out a laugh that made her seem ten years younger and put the book away again. <”Sorry, dear. I just couldn't resist!”> She tapped the rather strange book with a finger. <”Grand kid gave me it as a joke. I thought I’d read it out here just to see how many people notice.”>
Alright, I’ll admit, that made me chuckle. I finished my meal in peace and sauntered off for the green path after having thrown away my utensils and waving goodbye to Mrs. Larsson.
It lead me to one of those external basement door slash trapdoor things. You know, those things that are low enough you have to lean down, but still kinda look like doors and usually covers a staircase? The particular word escaped me at the moment, but the basement beyond was brightly lit and I skipped down, eager to make a few bargains.
I was a bit disappointed. I hadn't exactly expected three meter tall mecha figures, racks of expertly crafted costumes, anatomically ‘correct’ anime dildos or whatever it is you could find at the big cons… but it honestly looked like a somewhat nerdy flea market and a small one at that. Just short of a dozen tables and the tenders looked half asleep even at this hour.
Still, I drifted around and checked them all. Taking my time since the movie would be playing for quite a bit more.
I stopped at a small table, seemingly specializing in new-age stuff. I wasn't a believer, but I found the subject and the occult in general rather fascinating. Quite a lot of it was the usual incense and crystals crap, but they also had a small stack of books that caught my eye.
The stall owner, a middle aged looking woman in a thick jacket and with a felt cap seemed to find me presence at her table rather amusing. <”Taking the role a bit serious, are we?”>
I just chuckled at her and gave a small two finger salute. <”What can I say? Bit of a nerd.”>
She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back. <”Fair enough. Just tell me if you find anything you like… Mr. Dresden.”>
That made me look up. <”Ah? A fellow fan, then? That’s a bit rare here in Sweden.”>
She leaned over the table and stuck her hand out. <”Emelia Lundvall. Nice to meet you.”>
I stuck my hand out and gave her a firm shake. <”Björn Jönsson. You in the new age business yourself, or just a gig?”>
I gave her an apologetic smile as she shook some feeling back into her hands. I held my hand up and put an sheepish grin on. <”Sorry, not used to all this metal on me. You’re hand OK?”>
She gave me a nod. She seemed slightly peeved, but at the same time she seemed to realize it had been an accident. <”Björn Jönsson… and yet you have a British twang to your voice. No offence, but any chance I can get to know why?”>
I shrugged, making my stuff shift a bit. <”Not much of a secret. Dad is from the isles, mom was from around here. Mom tried, but it only lasted long enough for me to get this accent.”>
The girls eyes grew a bit soft at the ‘was’ bit, but she made no comment on it. <”Well, as I said, pleasure to met you. Just tell me if anything catches your eye.”>
I gave her a nod and started browsing. Sadly, the books turned out to be either crap ‘spell-books’ I’d been burned too many times on to care, or the slightly more serious stuff I’d already read. I did however find a small brass pendulum on a leather string that seemed like it fit the costume and wasn't terribly expensive, so I bought it.
I waved the smiling stall keeper off and went on my way. I was halfway to the stairs when a dusty door caught my eye. The door looked as if was to just an old closet, and caked in old cobwebs… but something just caught my eye about it.
It was a bit rude, but this was technically a public space. If it turned out to be a closet… well, hardly as I was intending to steal anything.
I did not expect what I found on the other side of the door. It looked like a freaking shop, and not closet sized at that. I leaned out and checked the door, then leaned in through the frame. I wasn't certain how it had been done, but the whole thing was giving me a TARDIS vibe.
With a shrug I headed in. Nifty trick, but I was in a basement. Disguising a door to another part of the basement wasn't exactly beyond the pale.
The room was five by five meters and with a ceiling height of three, making it feel as if you’d really stepped into another place. I wasn't sure if the owner, a youngish man in a purple wizard costume with golden stars on and a fake beard who seemed to find my stunt at the door amusing, had used humidifiers or something… but it really felt in the very air as if I’d entered another place entirely. I swear I could even hear distant ocean waves, despite our con being smack dab inland.
Four modern locking metal storm lanterns hung from chains from the ceiling in each corner, casting a warm light over the room and illuminating the tables filled with wares. The wares rested in turn on a giant U shaped table with a white silk table cloth on it and covered in merchandise. The whole thing reached all the way to the wall with the door, but was slightly offset from the far wall to let the shopkeeper move about freely behind his stuff.
I couldn't see the walls, since he’d put up a folding screen that reached all the way to the ceiling and all around the room. It was rather ingenious, really. It really gave this sense that there was a real shop, just beyond those fake walls. For some reason the owner seemed to have a thing for mythological creatures, but mostly equine ones judging from the illustrations. Pegasi, unicorns, the mares of Diomedes, dragons, manticores… but two creatures seemed to return again and again, coupled with a moon and sun theme. Two winged unicorns, depicted almost as in the same style as saints or gods. One usually a deep blue, but sometimes pitch black, while the other was the purest of white… even if in some she was little more than a vaguely equine flame that color that raged across part of the screen.
I gave the owner a polite wave as I stepped over the threshold. He seemed to find the gesture just as amusing as my earlier hesitation in the door, but he returned a small wave of his own. The dude just had one of those smiles. The utterly insufferable content ones you only seem to see on the faces of stoners, high level mathematicians and others that believe they've understand the ‘joke’ of it all. I gave him a nod and started checking out his wares.
My eyes were drawn to the screen once more, however. I swear, the thing was so detailed that it almost seems to shift and move as soon as you looked away. My eyes lingered on a particular illustration, where the white one in her full fury seemed to be bound into the very sun by a rainbow of all things. It should have been gaudy and cutesy, but the artist had made it work. You really got a sense of titans rising and falling, despite the subject matter.
I turned to owner. <“I’m fairly certain I know the answer… but how much for the screen? It is beautiful.”>
His eyes widened a bit at that, as if he hadn't expected that. <”You have a good eye for the finer things, sir…”> He reached back and patted the thing as if it was a cat. <”...but my darling here is not for sale.”> His smile widened a bit and turned warmer. <”Still, thank you for the compliment. I’m certain Harmony appreciates it.”>
Harmony? The name made me recheck the illustrations… and indeed, it seemed to be a theme. For every time the dark one fell to corruption, there was a scene of purification; for every rage by the light one, a calming and chance for redemption. It seemed to be reflected in the lesser creatures as well, but to a lesser degree as well. Was it symbolic, perhaps? That even the divine may fall and one shouldn't dwell on past mistake, but we shortsighted mortals had a harder time finding that redemption? <”...You sure I can’t say I price? The patterns and symbolism in this piece is just fascinating.”>
The owner’s eyes widened again, as if I’d once more done something I shouldn't have. Something I shouldn't have been able to do. It puzzled me, but I figured he was just playing up the ‘owner of the little shop that wasn't there yesterday’ angle. It was Halloween, after all. Still, he gave me a tiny shake. <”No. It is far too dear to me to part with. Still, once more, thank you for the compliments.”>
I gave the man a nod and went back to checking his actual wares. I had a few stacks of volumes I’d only part with during the direst of circumstances, so I could respect his wish to keep the thing.
And what wares! Truly, they made the rest outside this nifty room look like junk. It was mostly slated towards costume stuff, but a few more esoteric knickknacks were mixed in. What seemed like a Deck of Many Things replica rested side by side with a freaking proton pack, while at the other end of the same table a Red Queen and Blue Rose set that would have made Mark drool until it ruined his costume rested on a stand.
I’m honestly not sure how long I spent in there, just examining nifty little treasure after nifty little treasure. I realized I was quite probably missing the rest of the damn Con, but I just didn't care. I wasn't certain why this man had gone through such trouble for our tiny over-glorified movie night, but man was it an impressive collection he had.
Normally when I get in this mood I end up irritating the poor shopkeeper half to death, but this particular one just seemed to just find me more and more amusing as the minutes passed like moments. I was just closely examining an excellently done Rune of Torment on what looked like real skin, resting in a glass case when the owner let out a small polite cough.
I looked up, making me realize just how busted my back was getting from leaning with all this gear. I fought down a small wince to do so, but I gave the man a nod.
He just smiled that cryptic smile again. <”Although it is immensely pleasing to see a customer that actually takes his time instead of just grabbing the first thing on the table he likes…”> He raised an immaculately manicured hand and pointed at a spot on the other end of the store almost clearly opposite from where I was currently standing. <”...I will admit that I can’t help but feel I know what you will end up buying. May I recommend you check that table? I think you will find something there to your liking.”>
I raised an eyebrow at that, but complied. I almost instantly spotted what he’d been talking about, once I actually paid attention to that end of the store. Nestled in between what seemed a shriveled hand and eye that seemed utterly wrong somehow resting on a black velvet pillow, and a simple golden ring on a equally simple chain simply laying on the table…
Rested perfection.
...Alright, that was probably a bit over-dramatic. Still, a pentacle amulet on a chain, both in actual silver. About the size of my palm and what looked like a real ruby about the size of my thumb resting in its center. The thing gleamed in the softly dancing flames, as if it was half forged from light rather than something as mundane as silver. I have no idea how, but it barely seemed to touch the velvet it rested on. The thing was simply a masterpiece.
The owner reached forward and slid a key into the lock for the glass case it rested in and opened the thing up for me.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” He said, switching to English for some reason. Perhaps he found it more dramatic, or was simple more proficient in it? Either way, I made no comment. He ran a single finger over the chain almost reverently, as if he didn't quite dare touch the amulet itself. “You are aware of the symbolism, correct?”
I nodded, my eyes caught on the amulet. “Magic. The five elements. Fire, water, air, earth and spirit, all bound by human will.” I pointed at the ruby. “And in this case, at its center lays something even more dangerous bound by them all.”
“Oh?” The owner said, sounding amused again. “And what would be more dangerous than fire, water, air, earth and spirit, shaped by something as flimsy and yet undying as mortal will?”
I raised my hand and tapped my temple. “Knowledge. How else is one to shape such forces in the first place?”
“Explain, please.” He smiled that slightly warmer smile again. “I do not dispute the claim, but I wish to hear your logic for it.”
I folded my arms over my stomach with my staff in between, thinking. It was a bit silly, but… this seemed like an important conversation, somehow. As if it would influence much of what came after. “...What other thing exist beyond all good and evil? Knowledge does not care how one uses it. Knowledge simply is or isn't.”
“There are those that say that knowledge is but power in the abstract…” He ran one hand over the other, somehow ending up with these giant golden coins in between each finger. It seemed this guy really liked his unicorns, because they all had this smiling cartoon mare on them. “And in that case, is it not the same as money as well?” He throw the coins into the air. I saw them leave his hand, but they never landed. Neat. “A bit trite and too sad a way to see the world for my taste, but it is believed by many.”
I thought it over, but I shook my head. “No. Knowledge may lead to both…” I reached behind my back and tapped a finger on my gun. “...but what is getting a lucky shot, compared to knowing how make the correct one every time?” I spread my arms, and couldn't quite keep a smug smile off my face. “And despite how I gave that bit of philosophy away… it remains with me. What mere bit of coin could be greater than a treasure whose depth and glory only grows when shared?”
The man let out a slow breath, seemingly quite pleased with my reasoning. “Oh, you’ll go far, young man. Keep that intellect.” He reached up and tapped his own temple. “Forgive a man who’s a bit older than he looks his dramatics… but I've found few finer pursuits in life and I’d like to think I know a bit more than most men.” He let out a silvery laugh that seemed to hang in the air. “Well, except about woman. They've proved a bit troublesome to crack.”
I bit back a snort at the joke, but he just laughed again. “Forgive me for ruining the very dramatic moment we were having, but I just had to crack that joke.”
I raised an eyebrow in mock excitement. “A joke? That was a joke?!”
He blinked, seemingly genuinely confused. “...Yes?”
I let out a big gasp and ‘accidentally’ dropped my staff. “You've actually figured out women? Just what eldritch sorcery allowed you to perform that feat?!”
The man was just still for a moment. Then he started laughing so hard that he bent double and even his beard snapped off with a twinge. The fake facial hair sailed away into the corner nearest the door and us.
I had to admit, it was an infectious laugh. I wasn't quite sad a person enough to laugh at my own joke, but it was nice to have made somebody laugh like that. As corny as it might be, it made me smile. I took the opportunity to grab my staff again while the dude get it out of his system.
He was fighting for breath when he finally stopped. “By me, I don’t even remember the last time I laughed that hard.” He gave me a small clap.”Good one.”
I raised an eyebrow again.”By me?”
He just smiled and pointed at the proton pack. “A movie I rather enjoyed once told me that if anybody asks if you are a god… Well, the concept amused me enough to run with it.” He bit back a snicker. “You should see the faces on the evangelists.”
I’ll admit, that was an amusing concept. “...Ever tried to get any of them to convert? Turnabout is fair play, after all.”
The owner blinked and started laughing again, even if it he got it under control a bit quicker this time. He waggled a finger at me, eyes sparkling. “Oh man, did I pick the right piece for you. You keep that tongue and wit, kid.”
“I’ll try,” I said, leaning a bit on my staff with my eyes on the pentagram. “So, how much? I doubt I have enough, but…”
He just lifted the thing with a single finger looped into the chain and held it up. “No charge. Consider it a gift for having amused an old man.”
I just stared at both him and the necklace. “...That is very generous of you, but I don’t think I can accept. That looks like a real ruby, but I'm certain about the silver.”
He blinked again, but this time he gave me a level look. Something about it made a shiver dance across my spine, but I couldn't tell why. Just like that it was gone however, and he was back to his old smile. “My, you really mean it. Sorry about the glare, but in my line of work you very quickly grow tired of false humility. Seeing the real deal, however? That is always a treat.”
I just shrugged, uncertain what to say to that.
His eyes settled on my current amulet. “Did you know? In some cultures an artist only part of a craft is considered to bring forth what was already there, to unleash the work from the lesser form that bound it. According to those that believe it the craftsman is actually inconsequential, all that matters is that true glory being brought forth into the world. Have you heard of this perspective?”
I scratched my shin. “...Sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Sorry.”
He lifted his arms from his side in an exaggerated shrug. “I must admit I doubt that, but it is a thought I've found amusing to philosophy on over the years.” He pointed his left hand at my current amulet. “Would a trade make you more comfortable with this moment?”
I took the tacky little thing from around my neck and stared at it. I jingled it on the end of my finger, making the thing bounce on its old shoelace. “You do know I made this in five minutes with household stuff, right?”
“Ah, such Honesty…” He murmured happily with his head slightly tilted, and eyes glassed over, seemingly lost in thought for that moment. “But come now, ‘Mr. Dresden.’ Is accepting a small token of Generosity truly so awfully beyond the pale?”
i hesitated, but it was such a pretty replica. Still, it didn't sit quite right with me. “Tell you what, Mr?” I extended my right hand and gave him a smile. “Always a pleasure to met another collector. How about we make it a token of friendship. I’m Björn Jönsson, a true pleasure.”
The man did that strange growing stiff thing again, before giving me a radiant smile and grabbing my hand. “Seppo Ilmarinen, likewise.”
We exchanged the amulets. To my surprise he actually placed the amulet I’d made into the case and locked it away. He had the strangest nostalgic smile on when he did so. “One’s first works are often rather humble… but one should still keep at it, no matter what your chosen art. Once never know when and how that first seed of greatness will sprout.”
“Well said,” I spoke plainly as I placed my new bit of bling around my neck. I hesitated when I felt how warm it felt from his hands, and I couldn't quite not look at my old one. “You know, speaking of artifice… Know an interesting belief I heard once, even if I can’t remember where?”
“Go ahead.”
I tapped the amulet, and then pointed at the one in the case. “That anytime you make something, a bit of your spirit lingers in it. That even if you make no further modification to it, it will grow with you, and you with it.” I tucked my new amulet in under my shirt to keep it safe. “Don’t know if I believe it, but a beautiful thought, is it not?”
Seppo’s eyes grew veiled and nostalgic again as he nodded mostly to himself. “I’d like to think I've made a few things worthy of such words… but it is something of the creator's curse that the skill and one’s hands never quite can keep up with what your inner eye sees.” His eyes drifted to the tapestry. “I’d like to think a few of my works have captured that little extra, but there’s always that moment of doubt when you look at what your own hands have wrought.”
That made me make a double take. “You painted that?”
Seppo actually got a light coating of red on his cheeks. “What can I say?” He jerked a thumb to the wall behind him. “A bit silly and out of my age bracket, but just something of a fan work for this thing I kinda like.” He turned his head and looked at a particular bit with the dark and the light unicorn meeting in mortal combat, horns locked. “I think it came out rather well, all things considered.”
I didn't know what Seppo was talking about… but anything that had inspired art like that was alright in my book. I decided to check online if I could find anything about unicorns in roughly that style once I came home. I doubted it would be easy, but seemed worth a look.
I reached into the depths of my duster and fished out one of my cards. “Here,” I said as I gave it to him. “You give me a call someday, OK?”
Seppo took the flimsy little thing and squirreled it away in his robe. “I travel quite a bit, but I’ll make sure to do that.” He pointed towards the door with a smile. “But I believe I've held you here for long enough. Do enjoy your gift…” He winked at me. “Mr. Dresden.”
I chuckled and waved over my back as I headed out. Man, so worth it but I must have spent hours in this place. My friends needed to see this place but…
My train of thought got yanked to pieces as my hand just passed through the door. I tried to take a step back in shock, but the floor suddenly wouldn't hold me either.
As I fell backwards through the strange void, the last thing I saw before things got weird was Seppo from leaning down towards me, waving and smiling. “You enjoy yourself! That’s usually the important bit!”
I didn't have time to shout a reply. Things just started twisting. Up was down, left became guacamole, in front of me lay eternal fields of orange and behind only bitter smells of lost dreams…
Shit got whack, OK?
I’m not sure how long I fell like that in that black void, too weirded out to even scream. All I know is that I felt strangely twisted and as if something was leaking into my ears. Like this whisper just at the edge of hearing.
I did notice when normalcy returned, however.
Being a kilometer up and yet somehow surrounded by sunlit clouds will do that to a man. Then I started screaming.
I twisted around, flattening myself to slow my fall a bit. It didn't work nearly enough. Just to add to the splat factor I was falling towards what looked like a decently sized town and a cobbled town square, just for a few more ‘screw you’s’ from the universe.
Then… then something went *click* in my mind. Like I suddenly knew something I’d known all my life. I just hadn't known it all my life five minutes ago.
The air just suddenly felt… There wasn't a better word for it. Alive. As if something I’d never felt before suddenly just had switched on. Like being without a sense of touch all your life only to suddenly feel a lover's gentle touch, or sense of smell and being given a rose.
I was just so utterly lost in that sensation I lost track of time for a moment. The scream just went away and tears fell from my eyes. It was just... beautiful.
Then another absurdly low cloud whizzed past around me and snapped me out of it. Now was not quite the time.
Another new lifelong memory made me push my staff in front of me. I was distracted for a moment. Not only did it look much more realistic somehow… but my hand was not only paler, but the fingers seemed longer and thinner.
But once more, now was not the time.
I grabbed at that strange energy, drew it towards me and my staff… only to get almost lost in what would have been another but more final moment as the raw sense of power flooded me.
But I remained focused, trust my staff forward and shouted words I somehow knew even more by heart then before.
“Veni Che!”
The local winds and air roared and leapt at my commend, all flowing towards me and under me, doing their utmost to slow my descent.
It was a bit too little, too late, but the freaking spell turned what should have been a splat into a painful belly flop that just drove the air out of my lungs.
I’d done magic.
I’d done magic.
I’d done freaking magic!
My celebratory shout of joy turned into this rather pathetic wheeze, but it was the thought that counted. It was half from the utter awe at my new powers and half from the adrenaline, but I just started laughing like a loon.
Trembling, I got to my feet, using my staff to push myself to my feet.
Only for my laugh to die in my throat. The world was… wrong. Not only was it eye-searingly cute, cuddly and colorful, but…
These tiny pony things with coats and manes all the colors of the rainbow, and huge eyes were just staring at me. Like I was some sort of strange alien creature that had just fallen out of the sky.
OK, bad example, but my point still stood.
I couldn't help it. I just said the first thing that came to mind as my first words on these strange new lands.
“O~K, what fresh new Technicolor hell is this?”