Candlemass's Solo Patrols and The Planes

02-24-12: 8:11 am

While I still have a bit of time, I could tell you another story I remember Candlemass telling me.



He generally treated his patrols like they were ordinary things, but listening to the stories scared me. Maybe Candlemass has gotten so used to them, they don't bother him anymore.

In any case, one of the patrols he went out on (always alone, because, as he impressed to me, he never had a partner before) he went out to the farthest reaches of the village where the last farmstead was, and saw it was abandoned.

It was winter, and the sky had turned the earth raw, and the earth reflected the cold sky in puddles. A little breeze whipped up, scattering a few snowflakes.

Now, Candlemass stood there, looking at the house, because it had never been abandoned before. Always, there would be someone working on the house, or in the fields somewhere.

But the door was hanging open a crack and blowing back and forth in the breeze, and one of the fences had fallen into disrepair, as if something had plowed its way through.

Candlemass had decided to investigate, and headed to the door.

His boots on the porch steps were the loudest thing he could hear, the heavy soles scraping gravel from the drive. When he pushed the door, it gave inwards with a small creak.

Nothing.

Or, that was to say, there were no humans. A stench was coming from the stovetop that indicated someone had been cooking, and hadn't come to retrive it. A pitcher of milk had been sat on the table and spilled in someone's haste. One of the humble, sturdy chairs lay on it's back on the floor.

Candlemass said he should have known better. He should have been more careful.

Something mewled pathetically at him from farther in the house. He couldn't tell if it were an animal or human noise, but he moved silently in.

To the left of the kitchen, stairs rose from the end of the hallway to the second floor. A pantry was set just beyond. To the left, a modest parlor had been left open, empty.

A second moan came, from the basement, set underneath the stairs.

When he came to stand in front of the steps to the basement was when he knew he'd made a mistake

The whimper turned into a hissing cackle. He could see it's eyes glinting back at him like chips of glass, as it hunkered on the stairs. It might have once been human, but its limbs had broken and warped to accommodate new joints- it's jaw thrust forward, larger than a humans, and its eyes continually wept a mixture of puss and blood.

The thing was on him nearly before Candlemass could move to defend himself. With what he managed, he'd thrust an arm between himself and the huge, gnashing jaws. It screamed unintelligibly into his face, and Candlemass felt his life being crushed from his body.

Suddenly, the thing went limp- he had unconsciously used his utility knife and had planted it into the thing's left temple.

It had been the only time he ever used a knife to dispatch a creature, he'd assured me.

His neck was bleeding profusely. His body ached. If there were others, he knew they were in the basement from the collection of mews that started up.

Candlemass dragged himself from the house and lit the entire thing up.

That's about it. Candlemass dragged himself back to the village to get himself tended to, and when the other Punishers went to investigate his handiwork, they found the mutated remains of what had been the family that had tended the farm.

Kind of a sad story, altogether.

2:03 pm

As of this afternoon, Candlemass left me with some exercises to do in spotting fluctuations in the environment around me. It's worked once so far, as I thought someone had walked behind me while I was in the middle of work, and when I turned around, there was no-one there.

It's a wide, open space, too, so I definitely would have seen it. Candlemass complimented me when I came back in, saying he was proud I was sensitive enough to spot regular human energies as well.

Candlemass also had me read pretty extensively for my training when I was younger, and not even about supernatural stuff. He had me read up quite extensively on botany and herbalry, so I would know what plants would be suitable for what. Sometimes, this was just to know if I got different wounds, some of it signified the presence of certain creatures, and some could be used against certain creatures.

He also trained me pretty extensively on wilderness training, so I can recognize lots of different tracks of things. One would think this wouldn't have much to do with being a Punisher, but the way he explained it, it was important to know your surroundings.

Some of my fondest memories are of me and Candlemass huddled over my desk as he tutored me on how to concoct this or that in a pilfered oven-safe dish.

I made a lot of crazy shit back then, but I think my parents just figured I was going through a sort of mad-scientist stage.

I'm still amazed at how patient he was, very carefully helping me measure out powdered herbs, and instructing me as to what went where.

5:35 pm

I once asked Candlemass how many "planes" were in extistence, which was an interesting but lengthy conversation, which I will summarize.

There are a metric shitton. Lots. Basically, as many possibilities, there are planes. But there are a few major ones.

In any case, I won't go too far into detail in case I bore you, because I don't think you're here for a lecture on metaphysics.

The exercises basically consist of me going into a partial grey state- I'm aware, but not entirely conscious of what goes on around me. It's actually a very peaceful sensation, but then things start popping out at you, which keeps scaring me out of it.

Basically there are lots of smaller planes, with shorter spans. They (somehow) go on forever, but are still "shorter" than the normal planes. These Candlemass calls "pocket planes".

Getting in and out of these pocket planes is difficult to impossible- if you're in there, it's pretty much impossible to get out unless you stage a jailbreak.

In the larger planes, it's easier to travel in and out of them with small rifts in the planes. These are generally inhabited by restless energies, and things like ghosts.

Interplanar travel can be done in a multitude of ways, but Candlemass prefers the rifts because he's just one person, and it takes quite a lot of energy for some of the other ones, so its easier to do it with a mass of things.

For example, you can apparently make a huge tear in planar material, which takes the form of, say, electrical storms or mists.

But, as Candlemass pointed out, this takes quite a lot of energy, and he's just one Punisher.