These stories first appeared in Hunt's Book of Weapons, an in-game collection of found documents curated by an unknown researcher. They are replicated here in their original format. This means that many of the stories are not presented chronologically, or in one grouping, and it is left to the reader to put together the puzzle pieces and determine to what extent they contain fact, fiction, or fable.
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Machete
MACHETE. (See also, BLADED WEAPONS, SWORDS) The machete is
widespread in many regions and is used as a tool like an axe, or as a weapon
like a short sword. Due to its rigorous use in agriculture, the machete blade
is typically tempered to be tough and durable; yet the blade, though resistant
to breakages and easy to sharpen, does not long retain a sharp edge. As farm
hands are often in possession of this tool in the course of their work, it has
been the weapon of choice in many peasant uprisings.
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The Papers of Hayden Collins
Filed under: Lynch
Story draft?
Undated
A small girl with dirty white-blond hair sat in the dirt,
playing with a deck of cards. On the nearby porch a half dozen adults sat
around the rocking chair where an older woman spoke, occasionally stealing
glances at the girl. Though the child appeared not to listen, she could not
avoid hearing.
She just walked out of the forest...doesn't speak...deck of
cards...never seen such a dirty child. Her face remained stony, hands steady,
uninterested in the adults and their gossip. The cards she held were
intricately painted, if faded and seemingly mismatched. She shuffled and spun
the cards, ignoring the dirt that flared up in tiny clouds as her hands moved.
She flipped the first card: The Arrow Queen. She flipped the second: Arrows
Six. The third? The Red King: her own card. Then: the four of swords, the five
of swords, the six of swords, and the seventh, all in a row.
She nodded resolutely and swept the deck and into a pocket
on her tattered dress. From the ground behind her, she pulled a grisly machete,
and walked pointedly towards the porch. The adults hushed when they noticed her
approach. In this world they would find no more reason to speak as they fell
beneath the swift motion of her arm.
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The Papers of Hayden Collins
Filed under, Lynch
Story draft?
Undated
Completely blind, caked in grease, pocked with shrapnel and
grease spots, and naked, she lay splayed on the muddy forest floor as on a
cross. From afar, she appeared to be dead. From afar, she appeared to be human.
Lynch was difficult to kill, a trait that would breed a
reputation for a supernatural invincibility, perhaps even, people whispered,
immortality. The body could bleed, oh how it could bleed, but she spurned
death's requests to join him on his dark horse. "Cultivate fear in your
enemies." It would be one of the many glamours that kept her body alive
far longer than her right, her profession being what it was.
Her fingers moved slightly, then thrust down through a layer
of damp moss and into the wet earth. The hand returned clutching a long sliver
of glass, mercury still dripping down its side. She tested the edge and drew
blood from the tip of her finger, then pressed harder, drawing more. She had
been building an explosive device, and it had detonated prematurely, scalding
her skin and taking her sight. But she carried far darker knowledge than that
of explosives.
She pierced her finger again and began to draw symbols on
the raw pink flesh of her abdomen, muttering to herself as she did so. Then she
took the glass and cut out her right eye, an offering to one who might return
her body's sight and more, letting it fall to the ground beside the grisly
machete she carried at her side.
It was difficult to keep the self whole. It was much easier to submit to chaos, to slice and destroy the weak flesh. It strained at its own boundaries, moving towards its own disintegration, always. Those who thought her immortal were not wrong, not exactly, though the body she wore now would not survive the journey between worlds.
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