Lune du diable

Chasseurs

• Chasseur Veuve Ochenkov Niveau 29 · Pass de combat
• Chasseur Faux saint Niveau 50 · Gratuit

Déverrouillages

• Munitions Munitions empoisonnées Niveau 4 · Gratuit
• Munitions Munitions empoisonnées Niveau 5 · Gratuit
• Arme Centenaire Trauma Niveau 7 · Gratuit
• Munitions Souffle du dragon Niveau 10 · Gratuit
• Munitions Munitions blindées Niveau 11 · Gratuit
• Arme Martini-Henry Fer-né Niveau 14 · Gratuit
• Munitions Munitions grenaille d'acier Niveau 18 · Gratuit
• Arme Carabine LeMat Niveau 21 · Gratuit
• Arme Krag Niveau 24 · Gratuit
• Munitions Munitions blindées Niveau 27 · Gratuit
• Munitions Munitions incendiaires Niveau 28 · Gratuit

Skins légendaires

• Légendaire Zèle Niveau 2 · Pass de combat
• Légendaire Consumation Niveau 8 · Pass de combat
• Légendaire Éternelle agonie Niveau 15 · Pass de combat
• Légendaire Nécrologie Niveau 22 · Pass de combat
• Légendaire Talisman Niveau 25 · Pass de combat
• Légendaire Nécrose Niveau 32 · Gratuit
• Légendaire Rêve du Diable Niveau 36 · Gratuit
• Légendaire Ksusha Niveau 40 · Gratuit
• Légendaire Cupidité Niveau 47 · Gratuit
• Légendaire Soleil mourant Niveau 50 · Pass de combat

Breloques

• Breloque Tête de flèche en fer Niveau 1 · Gratuit
• Breloque Chance inouïe Niveau 13 · Pass de combat
• Breloque Cavalier en bois Niveau 17 · Gratuit
• Breloque Ampleur de lièvre Niveau 20 · Pass de combat
• Breloque Effigie de paille Niveau 44 · Gratuit
• Breloque Icare cardinal Niveau 46 · Pass de combat

Clipping from the New Orleans True CrescentAuthors: UnknownNewsprint, 4x3 in.

LUNAR FEVER TAKES OVER NEW ORLEANS- The talk of the town has been the moon this week as fans of Simon Moore flock to the stands for their copy of the Lunae Diaboli periodical. Readers young and old have been enraptured by the tall tales of the young champion Kevin as he fights the dastardly Chary and the horrors he’s brought to our very own New Orleans, that changed the bayou forever.

The True Crescent had the opportunity to talk with Mr. Moore about what’s next in the thrilling serial, and while he can’t tell us much, he promised us that there will be a terrible plan to stop Chary once and for all. We’re burning with excitement!

Letter written by Kevin LinusDamaged but intact with envelope, no return or recipient address, 8 x 11 in.

Mama? Papa? I don’t know if you’re reading over my shoulder while you’re watching over me, but I’m scared. Everything hurts, but I have too many people to protect now. I can’t stop.

It’s not all bad. I’ve met so many interesting folks, they fight for me. They fight with me. And they try their best to convince others to fight at my side too. But it’s getting harder, I think every person we get to help us only means that he’s gotten two more. And more blood keeps spilling, and more bodies keep piling and I can’t help but know it’s my fault. I wish I could give up. I wish that I could let the others take care of the rest, but I can’t. When I even think about stopping feels like something is crawling in my head, it whispers, only stops when I keep moving forward.

It’ll end soon. All of this. We figured it out, figured out how to kill him. I think. I’m not sure. But once it’s done maybe I can rest, and I can go back home. Maybe I can bring my new friends with me too, would be nice to sit by the pond and listen to all their stories. But right now, I should focus on this fight, so I can have a chance of taking them there.

So mama? Papa? Please keep watching over me a little while longer.

Wax Recording TranscriptSome parts unintelligible due to molding.

I do not know…if I’ll be able to replicate the experiment. The pieces will stay the same, but the amounts are all a bit hazy. But this is it, this is everything I’ve been working towards. So many sacrificed, so many fighting all for this moment. The sculptor will be nothing to fear… Louisiana will be remembered for ending these incursions once and for all. And I…

[Pause]

If I were to give rough estimates, two parts Hive womb. Around 1000 mL of venom. The essence extracted from several bounties of Mr. Orsica are a must… From there I suppose you mix in enough [Unintelligible] the inoculation takes care of the rest. How fascinating.

Her vocal cords still need some healing and I fear the [Unintelligible].

What a pretty thing she was, such a shame. But at least now she’ll have brawn enough to make up for the loss of beauty.

[Rattling and muffled screams]

Ah, ah, ah my dear. Relax…and recuperate. When you’re ready, you and I will have much work to do. So, save your energy.

Now Ms. Ochenkov, listen very carefully. A young man will-

[Transmission cuts off here]

Clipping from the Louisiana Lady’s Periodical, 1903Author: UnknownNewsprint 4x8 in.

CAUTIONARY TALES FOR THE CHILD FOLK: BEWARE OCHENKOV’S WIDOW

We at the Louisiana Lady know how hard it can be to get a little rascal to stay in their bed at night or stop them from wandering too far. Give them something that will make them take pause the next time they want to stray with a tall tale sure to give them gooseflesh. This month we give you a story sure to keep your kids close to home with OCHENKOV’S WIDOW:

Deep in the night, have you heard the wailing? The sobs and oddly pitched screams that hurts your ears and sets them ringing? Then you’ve just heard the fearsome widow for yourself! Some say that if you catch her gaze, you’ll start weeping enough to fill an empty sea. Others say she’s stronger than ten men and could rip twenty men in half with her bare hands. The latter must be true, considering her self-same responsibility for becoming a widow.

All the newspapers in New Orleans were full of news of Mary when her husband was found massacred, his chest raggedly open, and his heart stolen. By the time the body was discovered, Mary Ochenkov had long since disappeared, but months later something unfathomable transpired. Close to Mary’s home, there were several accounts of people hearing cries in the night. None dared find the source of the cries; none but one, who had an unfortunate close encounter and who said:

When you get close to Mary her neck creaks like metal, and she lets out a wail that could make a strongman pass out. And then she comes at you with knife in hand.

After that, there were many more encounters with the Widow, but few lived to tell the tale. But those few all have one thing to say.Don’t go wandering around at night, and don’t go talking to any stranger.Cause Ochenkov’s Widow might catch you and bring your heart to the brazier!

Letter to Kevin LinusAuthor: Handwriting matches that of Circe EliasHandwritten on a scrap of paperSevere fire damage; reconstructed by archivist

Kevin,

The roots of evil deepen, and after what I learned from Doctor John, I fear we might need to prepare ourselves for the least expected if we are to survive. Resort to means long denied. We have yet to understand the nature of this monster – that man – for the evil in him exceeds everything I know. There is still hope. Doctor John was hesitant to tell me until he consulted the bones – and even then I doubt he was certain.

Though Chary claims his intentions are good, his actions prove otherwise. His total self-absorption and ambitions cloud his own mind, yet make him a strong-willed adversary. But even the toughest rock can be broken, and the mortal shell his soul resides in is not resistant to everything. All living things, natural or not, need something to function. For us – or rather for our primal bodies – blood is the essence of life and death, depending on the treatment. To manipulate one’s soul, we first need to crack open the shell and reach the essence.

For this, we need treated oleander leaves burned in high quantity at the devil’s hour – a poisonous inferno, “a hellfire” as Doctor John called it. If we burn enough herbs, the fumes can weaken him from within, though this alone can’t be enough to kill him. But at the very least, the smell of oleander will tell those who’ve taken his infernal pact that we will be triumphant, and they are not the only ones who can ravage with fire.

But this is where it becomes unspeakable: the treatment of oleander requires its leaves to be boiled in the blood of the pure and just, as evil can only be defeated by righteousness.

Doctor John is reluctant to let me leave, but Cora promised to carry this letter to you.

Until then, be careful.

C

Wax Recording Transcript Titled “Timothy Stone”Some parts are unintelligible due to molding.

New captives arrived today, and Chary brought them again to the dirt circle where it all began. A brutal thing, the process. Long stakes driven into the eyes to keep them in place while Chary calmly covers their body in a clay he prepared. I don’t understand how they live so long through it. Then it solidifies, creates a protective layer on the body while the souls “ripen”, as Chary says. It takes a few days, but once the soul is ready, the back of the clay structure slits open, like a mouth, a black crevasse, an abyss. But there’s never a trace of a body in it. And the sound those things make [Pause], it keeps me awake in the nights… gives me unspeakable nightmares.

Chary says he needs those things to reach souls. I don’t know what he means, and I’m afraid to ask again. I dared ask once, and he smirked when I did. Then his face quickly changed when I asked if the boy’s company or other Hunters could also reave the souls. He looked me in the eye for a few seconds, before saying he had a plan. The next day, he gathered his lot and asked them to help those poor souls, explained that it would leave a mark somewhere on their body. If they managed get to one of his collection points with those marks, they would gain his favor and unimaginable rewards. [Chuckles] That man is a true master of manipulation.

[Sighs] Unsurprisingly, Hunters once again gave into their greed, and now I have four hundred thirty-seven new names on my ledger. Business is booming. After all, they have no use of the name they had been called before.

[Unintelligible]

So, I was right. I saw one of the boy’s followers [Unintelligible] he was speaking to that... thing. A Soul Trap. After a few seconds, I could see the mark form on the back of his neck. How do they know about these structures? I don’t know what Chary plans to do, and I don’t care as long as I have more names and a hefty price for each, but I need to stay vigilant.

[Transmission cuts off here]

Clippings from the New Orleans True CrescentAuthors: UnknownNewsprint, 4x5 in.

THE CITIZENS OF NEW ORLEANS WORRY AS STRANGE FIRES IGNITE THE BAYOU - Around 5 o’clock p.m. yesterday, supper was interrupted as smoke began to billow in from all directions towards the city. Large wildfires have engulfed parts of the bayou. Local firefighters are unconcerned, as affected areas are of low importance. The True Crescent does not yet know the causes of these fires, but it is unlikely they are natural.

POULTRYMAN COMMENTS ON FIRES - Many are concerned for their land and businesses near wildfire outbreaks. But not poultryman William Moses, whose land is directly affected by the wildfires, who was seen leaving town heavily armed. The True Crescent approached him for comment. “I don’t plan on leaving my home, even when I’m dead and gone. Y’all cowards can stay home, you’re not wanted no way and no how.” Moses refused to speak further on the matter.

Manuscript, “Lunae Diaboli”Author: Simon MooreUndatedBleached paper, typewritten, 8.5x11 in

Chapter 40

The chaos surrounding the boy and the man stopped in an instant. Guns were lowered and all stood in awe as they listened to Chary’s wretched screams, for Kevin’s fingers were sinking into the administrator’s skull. The smell of the burning oleander hung heavy in the air. There was no blood, only licks of flame, as Chary’s skin and bones parted like paper to make way for Kevin’s fingers. It had worked, Chary’s invulnerability was broken. The violation was absolutely maddening.

“Let it end.” Kevin said with an eerie calm, “Let it end for both of us.”

Kevin’s request was then answered. He coughed up blood as Mary Ochenkov’s hand plunged into his back, her fingers finding purchase on his heart. Snakes creeped around her hands and twined themselves round her arm, sinking their fangs wherever they could, but she paid no attention. If she ever wanted relief – to find her sanity, be in control, get back Petr – she would have to fulfill her last task.

She Squeezed.

Pop. The spectators couldn’t quite hear it as much as felt it. Kevin felt his own relief wash over. Ochenkov released the boy’s heart and he fell to the ground. His head, eyes wide open and a calm smile on his face, landed with a thud to stare at Moses. Circe cursed.

Chary, kneeling, panting, slowly erupted into a laugh of triumph. He unnaturally sprung to his feet, wafting away the plumes of oleander smoke that moments before had brought him to his knees.

“Wonderful my girl, simply amazing!” Chary said as he grabbed Ochenkov’s blood-soaked hand. He lifted it into the air and addressed his attackers, stunned by Kevin’s death.

“To think I was ever worried!” Chary guffawed. “No child can stop us, no moon, no Sculptor. Our dear Mary’s transformation has proven it. This is the power we needed, and it shall only grow from here!”

Damaged Clipping from the New Orleans True CrescentAuthor: UnknownNewsprint, 3x3 in.

DOZENS DEAD IN FIRES – The number of those killed in the recent wildfires is growing by the day. While many are beyond recognition, the True Crescent can today publish the names of eight more of the deceased: Louie Burns, Emolet Gabb, Murr James, Cadianne Landry, Kevin Linus, Leola Skidd, Luetta Williams, and Rossanna Winston.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

A public memorial service will be arranged in the coming weeks.

Wax Cylinder Transcript, 4x2 in.Labeled “Port Sulphur Field Recording”

The devil’s in the circleThe devil’s in the nightThe devil’s in the waterReflecting the light

The devil is callingYou’ll get what you seeCause devil’s on fireAnd the devils in me

I guess now we draw the lineLight the match and start the fireEmbers flare up one more timeThere’s nothing left to loseAnd there’s nothing left to hide

I fought back and I fought hardAnd in the circle I got lostAlways painful memoryThe devils in the detailsAnd the devils in me

[Transmission cuts off here]

Manuscript, “Lunae Diaboli”Author: Simon MooreUndatedBleached paper, typewritten, 8.5x11 in

Chapter 41

In the cool and the dark, Kevin opened his eyes. There was nothing but a soft glow. No pain, no Chary, no moon. Just him. He took a few cautious steps forward, testing his balance. He started walking, for minutes, days it seemed; but it didn’t matter. The calm washed over him.

And then two silhouettes, a man and a woman. Kevin didn’t let himself hope, but he ran to them. Amelia and Robert Linus. His mother and father.

Kevin wrapped his arms around them, and they wrapped their arms around him in return. He crumpled to the ground, and they crumpled with him.

“Is it okay now? Can I be with you again mama?” Kevin sobbed, his face flushing with every fallen tear. His crying showed what he had hidden for a while, something that, to keep going, he’d forgotten: his age.

“My sweet baby, I’m sorry.” Amelia kissed the crown of her child’s head. “There’s still more to do, and you’re still much too young to be here now.” Kevin looked to his mother in confusion.

“Kevin, you have to go back. You have to see this to the end, and I don’t mean just killing that man.” Robert began.

“It won’t end with him, things will keep on coming until you get to the root of the problem.” Kevin’s father stroked his hair. “And you’re young scout. There’s so much more living left for you to do.”

“Can you hold out? Just a little longer?” Kevin’s mother asked. The boy was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“You always told me that I have to keep my word. And I will.” With that, Kevin held his parents in a tight hug. They returned it with everything they could muster.

“We love you, now go get him.”

Journal of Elise AustinBrown leather wrapped in black cord 5” x 7”Date Unknown

It’s all strange, fascinating, and sick. A system, imperfect, that keeps itself running based on a status quo that even the most wicked vowed not to break. And then one man enters, he works his way up the metaphorical ladder and nestles himself into a position at the top, just to tip it all over.

I can scarcely say who did it first. Who started the inferno, the hellfire, the devil’s hour. There’s just too much chaos to get an accurate testimony before the fools burn themselves up. The so-called Lunar Pact, moon crazed, have been lighting fire with bundles of herb, like they’re smoking something out with the rancid smoke. The Infernal Pact are doing what they can to destroy the bodies, killed in the crossfire, building pyres that turn folks to ash.

I’ve yet to witness all this myself, but I know that whoever caused the fires are destroying the work of future archaeologists, researchers, and academics. They’re turning history to a black void. An abyss into which many will lose their minds delving into.

And all because of one man who wormed his way in. For now, it doesn’t stop me and my work.

A letter from a stack found at Port Reeker, all identical.Damaged but intact with envelope, no return or recipient address, 8 x 11 in.

Hello,

You do not know me, we haven’t met yet, but I am told we will. I hope we speak the same language. I am told you have experience with monsters and more terrible things.

The same things that happened where you are, they have been happening here for a while. Even though there are oceans between us. Things that can’t be explained. If my friends are to be believed it is worse here in Louisiana than anywhere else. And it’s spreading, there are rumors, and spreading.

The American Hunters Association want to keep this to themselves. But they’re losing control, and if someone else doesn’t step in, we’re all goners.

I know you have no reason to care. I know you have no reason to help. But if even a small part of you wants to come to New Orleans, please follow it. We are a small group, but we are growing, and I promise we’ll do anything we can to repay your kindness.

When you call for me, I will answer. When you are ready, I will be waiting.

May her light keep you,

Linus

Poster, “TO THE AHA: THE CORRESPONDENCE OF ELWOOD FINCH”Letter pressed, 12x18 in.

To all Hunters,

It is with great sadness that the Louisiana branch of the American Hunters Association can no longer sustain itself. Though it may outlive me, not for long. There are those that would see the Sculptor thrive in our home. Our administration cannot respond to correspondence at this time, we must take action against those terrorizing our group.

It is no secret that our influence has been waning: others are paying bounties, providing arms, and have their own beliefs. This chaos has allowed the problem to fester. And now these damned Pacts are holding more sway. There is one consolation: they too will soon burn out.

Representatives from both eastern and western branches have been called to lend their strength against those who seek to undermine our mission. I fear it will not be enough.

Though hidden, our arm of the AHA has always been a pillar of New Orleans, Louisiana, and the south itself. I hope some of you will join me in continuing that fight.

In Service,

Dr. Elwood FinchDirector, American Hunters Association

Found PageAuthor UnknownTorn on the left edge, 5x8 in.

For auld lang syne, my dear,for auld lang syne,we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,for auld lang syne.

When Hell had come like hell we fought,regardless of the crime.We take the sin with money gotfor auld lang syne.

We stood as brothers side by side,as fires died with time.The devil gone; the heralds sing.For auld lang syne.

And when the fight has come again,your gun will become mine!For dead men shall not shoot again.For auld lang syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot,and never brought to mind?Should old acquaintance be forgot,and auld lang syne?