Introductions

My name is David Campbell. And I’m going to let you in on a secret.

Magick is real.

I’m not talking about that crap David Copperfield does on stage. Sure, making the Statue of Liberty appear to vanish before your eyes is a cool trick, but it’s just that: a parlor trick on steroids. When I talk about magick, I mean real, actual works of will and intent which change things in the world for better or worse.

We always hope for the better, but it doesn’t always work out that way.

Right now, you don’t need to know much about me. Think of me as just a regular guy with some unusual, ahem, hobbies. Oh. And a sword. Which can communicate with me, think, move and act on its own. Actually, that’s kinda rude, now I think about it. My sword is very definitely a she, as Svetalina just reminded me. She gets a little salty about pronouns, which seems like an odd thing to concern oneself with when one no longer has a physical body.

But I digress.

I chose Jericho Wayne as my chronicler because, to be blunt, he’s exactly the sort of howling-at-the-moon, batshit crazy I needed to tell my story without breaking in every three seconds trying to get his head around the nuances of what’s been going on. A very flexible mind, has our boy, and so I approached him just before Halloween with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Me and Marlon Brando.

When the lunatic wrote 20,000 words in a single day in the middle of this month, I knew I’d made a good choice. Think I’ll keep him around for a minute, see how it goes.

Svetalina and I live near downtown Seattle. Don’t bother trying to find us, because I assure you, you won’t. You might see me around town, or may even have passed me on the street, in the grocery store or that quaint little corner cafe, and never had the faintest inkling. It’s the way I and most other magi like it. I could draw you a map to the Seattle Motherhouse of the Ordo Hermetica, the magickal order to which I belong, take you right to the doorstep, and you’d never find it, much less be able to get in.

That you’d remember, anyway.

Svetalina? Well, if you see her, chances are things have taken a drastic left turn into downtown Shitsville and there’s probably at least one face-eaty demonic whosit running around getting all up in everyone’s Kool-Aid. At which point I feel fairly safe in saying an average-looking guy with a weird-looking sword which flies around on its own wreaking mayhem on surly demonic types is probably the least of your worries. The fact I’m a Soulforger, one of less than a dozen on the whole planet, is probably not even going to ping your radar, you know, because of the whole face-eaty thing. Dismembered body parts and buckets of blood flying around willy-nilly tend to have that effect on people, I’ve noticed.

Anyway, the point is: get your head around the idea that magick is real, and this whole thing will hurt less. Get it? Got it? Good.

I’m going to dip out for now. Apparently there are things afoot which require my attention. But keep an eye on this site and be sure to give Jericho a follow on Twitter. Svetalina and I have been running him pretty hard, and he deserves the attaboys.

Be back soon.

Hey! Who the hell are y

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