Godcard

This Interlude contains Nazism - although not its glorification. It also, coincidentally, contains murder and Satanism.

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Occult

October 31st, 1942 undisclosed location south of Oslo

"Good evening to you, my friends. As we are now assembled, let us begin."

There was a brief scrape and a rain of sparks as a friction stick was ignited against a patch of sandpaper, then used to light a candle in the center of the round table.

There was darkness in the airy chamber around them, a translucent wind blowing the curtains of the castle their divisions had taken as its brief residence for the purpose of this gathering.

"As you may know, tonight we have gathered together on the night of Hel's Feast in order to evoke one of the venerable vaettir slumbering within the soils of this ancestral land. Since not all of us know each other and we had to come together on… sadly short notice, I shall do the honors of making the introductions, so that we may be acquainted." And like that, Oberführer Rauff launched himself joyfully into describing the deeds of the people seated at the table.

Joseph had been skeptical and uneager to participate to start with, but the sudden realization he'd be forced to sit here through a bunch of pointless monologue about people he cared nothing for made him tap his finger impatiently against the table's edge, lips creased into a frown.

"We have with us, Standartenführer Bernhard Becker, a renowned member of both the Waffen-SS and Ahnenerbe, known for his contributions on the expedition to Poland where he aided in the recovery of the thirty-two pieces of the Veit Stoss altar and well-known participant in the eine Gruppe and the establishment of the Reichskommissariat Norwegen. It's thanks to his largesse as our host that we may gather here tonight. We thank you."

A few polite claps. Joseph decided to join in, if only to not appear disrespectful.

"We have the respected and brilliant Oberst Kurt von Hegener, a Heer leader whose unmatched bravery, sheer ingenuity, and countless contributions to strategy were essential in retaking control of the Rhineland, as well as our noble regime's invasion of France. A true warrior and a good friend."

More clapping; Joseph unexcitedly went along.

"And furthermore, we have..."

And then he kept going like that, for what felt like dull hours, every passing minute comparable to a blow from a spade to the back of the head. There were all sorts of people at the wide table, and Joseph knew this much already - it was a waste of time to listen.

There were esteemed German scientists and brilliant professors who arrived from far-off universities. There were noble counts - men of wealth and taste who supported racial ideology. And there were researchers from the Ahnenerbe think tank; members of the Geheime Staatspolizei and Kriminalpolizei; commanding officers of the Waffen-SS, particularly respected and important members of the Allgemeine-SS, a few commanders from the Wehrmacht who seemed to feel entirely inadequate with being seated at a table with a bunch of Schutz-Staffel members. Even a few of the sick vindictive fucks from the Death's Head Division. And the worst part was, maybe, that he already knew most of them - if not in a personal fashion, then either as casual acquaintances or by the grapevine of distant rumors.

There were a few women present, surprisingly; for the most part, wives or close family members of those men present. Around thirty people in total seated around the table, all of whom deserved - in Oberführer Rauff's frankly all too optimistic opinion - an introduction of their own.

It was the point where Joseph's opinion diverged. He was proud to call himself German - prouder still to openly call himself an occultist in the face of the ridicule he regularly faced as a result. He'd never once needed 'people' or 'help' to elevate himself. He'd arrived at the point where he stood almost exclusively by working harder than other people and convincing those lazy fat bastards who called himself his superiors that he was almost indispensably competent; a necessary hire. And yet, he weathered the worst of it for his attitude, for his refusal to intermingle with the societal expectations of polite company, and he hated them all for it, deep down - he wished for nothing more than to already master his arcane powers and make them regret every word they'd ever said about him.

At this point, he was fully committed to making that his life's one and only task - even at the cost of his own soul, he wanted to see as the skeptics ate their own words and choked on their blood. He despised them more than he valued himself, and he valued himself more than everything else other than his spite.

"And finally, we have," he paused as his eyes fell on Joseph, "my dear and welcome friend, Obersturmführer Joseph Maximillian von Herff of the Übernatürlich-SS."

He waved a hand as the clapping turned in his direction. Among the introductions so far, this one was maybe the curtest, leaving a few people at the table curious as to why he'd been left in the cold, in such a manner.

One of the ladies at the table spoke, the wife of Hauptmann Hössler. She was a petite little woman, with pretty blue eyes like sapphires that sparkled even in the darkness. Even without any of the witchcraft and supernatural powers that some of his contemporaries attributed to him, Joseph could see her past, present, and future unwinding in front of his eyes like a book open with eye-wateringly bright text - the benefit of political experience. He used to make a game of it, in his conversations with von Horstenau: picking a random person in the room and making guesses as to who they were.

As for the woman, she'd been married off to Hössler as a trophy wife and nothing more, for the dowry, and to make sure his children had blue eyes and blonde hair. There was probably nothing more to it. She didn't contribute much - very much the contemptuous archetype of the innocent housewife, here to support her husband in all endeavors, emotionally and in other less - and maybe to some, more - obvious ways. Her question, however, was piercingly irritating. It was worded so genuinely, too, that he was forced to wonder if maybe she knew it'd irritate him, but she also played the game.

"You and the Oberführer work together?"

"Something like that," Joseph replied, not letting his acrid bitterness show in his wide-toothed smile. "He proved, I suppose, to be more enlightened than me."

"Ah, don't be crass, Joseph," said Rauff with a smirk of his own. "I'm sure you're next in line for the promotion. Our division needs more skilled commanders anyhow."

"Of course, of course," Joseph said, blowing him off gently. If they'd been in private, he would've felt more secure in blowing him off more firmly.

"And the reason you've gathered us here, I suppose, is related to your division's work," said Gideon, one of the Death's Head members. There was some coy laughter from his fellows at his words, and a few cracked smiles from the other people at the table. Even in their mutual rivalry, both Rauff and Joseph could agree on one thing - hatred of the skeptics, the blind fools, too enamored with the temporal world around them to understand.

However, where Rauff preferred to cajole and convince the morons to work together with them, Joseph detested them and would sooner rely on his own strength - it was the difference between them; a supplicant and a master of his own fate, carving apart the lines of the world with his will to power, as Nietsche's often-misunderstood writings postulated. It was sad, then, that Joseph was the one who lost a majority of the time in the end of their games. It was not how the world was supposed to be, and as acrimonious as he felt about it, there wasn't much he could do but sit and take it for now.

"I assure you this is no mere joke, no child's play," Rauff said.

"Our work is important," Joseph stepped in to support his rival's words - a rare but necessary occurrence when in a room with this many uninitiated outsiders. This many fucking idiots.

"Indeed," Rauff continued. "Although, rather understandably, the supernatural is poorly understood and documented, we have acquired demonstrable results in our efforts, as many of you know. It is a science no more and no less valid than the likes of physics and mathematics, and we know frighteningly little of it! It's what makes it all the more important to pursue its constant advancement. Every step of progress we make is critical, for it accelerates us ever closer to running forward and plumbing the secrets of the world. And once those secrets - those mysteries that dance in the night's sky are ours - we may very well find that we already have the world in our grasp."

"It's sad, then," Gideon replied, taking hold of his cup, "that you do not have more funding, hm?" He took a sip of wine, smiling as he did.

"At least we do something with the money we do get," Joseph said as the fucker drank his fill, feeling vindictive hatred for this arrogant imbecile. "We don't simply throw it into the mud to invent new ways of applying the Final Solution and on Berlinian whores." Gideon promptly started to choke on his wine.

There were gasps. There was some outrage, and Rauff was fast to chastise Joseph for his words openly but was also quick to let the matter go.

At least, despite their rivalry, both men understood their position in the ranks of the SS. The so-called 'Paranormal Division' was, to other people, a waste of funds at worst, and a polite joke at best - a way for grown men to play with pseudo-spiritualism and pseudo-occultism like teenage boys. It was fortunate they'd be proven wrong, and soon.

It didn't change the fact that Rauff deserved to be shot for being a conformist weakling, but at least, Joseph could admit he deserved to be shot last. An intelligent conformist was intelligent still.

"I must say the ritual we'll be attempting tonight is… ah, complex," Rauff attempted to explain, a smile on his face. "It necessitates the presence of many esteemed individuals with positions of authority in order to provide it the vital energy it requires to anchor its binding elements. I won't bore you with the details, but as it happens - and as the letters that I had sent already said - I would request your full cooperation with the ritual, putting skepticism aside that we may work together and prove to you that the fruits of your labor are not to be scoffed at."

There was some silence - a few appraising eyebrows, not asking any questions, but silently judging. It was funny that Rauff was the one drawing most of the contempt and skepticism for once.

"Now, let us begin. May we please move the table to the side?"

There was some brief stumbling and clattering as people stood from their chairs, and then a collaborative effort to push the furniture to the corners and sides of the room. It created a clear space in the middle, around twenty square meters with which to work. It was more than sufficient - they'd practiced for it.

Oberführer Rauff, Joseph, and a few of their lower-ranking men proceeded to draw out a specific arrangement of Nordic runes on the floor, in a specific spatial organization, within circles and other geometric shapes, while chanting softly. A majority of the esteemed German officials in the room seem amused, doubtful; a few were virtually on the edge of laughter; Joseph felt like a clown, and yet, also felt a kind of vindictive glee at knowing how woefully wrong he'd prove them in but a few moments.

At last, the runic array was complete - after some odd ten or fifteen minutes of minor corrections, adjustments, and measurements.

It was by far the most complex of workings they'd ever managed to put together - the result of thousands of hours spent on tireless research and trial-and-error which they knew would yield a ritual that could prove the Paranormal Division was an asset.

Of course, Rauff had barely contributed any research of actual worth, preferring to sit on his own ass for the majority of the time and steal Joseph's hard-earned credit - what he didn't know was that Joseph had sneakily drawn in a few extra runes near the end of the process. His heart raced as he did, and as he stepped back, he looked around frantically to make sure that neither Rauff nor the junior occultists noticed his action; if they did, his little plan would likely end right there.

However, they didn't, and the ritual continued.

"And now, please, follow my instructions," Rauff said.

All the officials present joined their hands and chanted together under Rauff's conduction, using a specific cipher of Nordic phrases and words. Joseph could see their actual thoughts written plainly on their faces - most of them believed this was utterly ridiculous. A few had refused to participate and were now laughing.

Eventually, as doubts reached their peak and people start shaking their heads and leaving the circle, Joseph braced himself, feeling his heartbeat. There was a flash of light and a sudden wind that closed every window in the room and puts out every candle. There was modest panic, people shuffling around and moving, yelling.

All according to plan so far, but he couldn't help but be nervous. His actions were calculated, yes, but this he'd never done before. It was like playing around with mathematics when you didn't fully know the formula - it could give a final result that wasn't exactly favorable.

He steeled himself, nonetheless. He prepared himself for the worst. It was his spite winning over his importance that led to his decision to alter the ritual, and he feared now that he might regret it, but he kept himself still and hard nonetheless. He wouldn't go out regretting it, no matter what.

Someone managed to light a candle.

"Rauff! What happened?"

"What was that flash of light?" Becker requested with surprisingly polite tones.

"Due to a failure to adhere to ritual, the vaettir was summoned improperly," Rauff said.

"I expected as much," Joseph said. "I knew that no one would take this procedure seriously. However, this was merely-"

"A cheap trick," a skeptical professor cut in. "A flash of light? A breeze? Please. It'd be idiotically simple to do that with some chemical mixture. As you drew the circle, you surely prepared a chemical concoction in the center - one that we failed to see due to the darkness, and that detonated as soon as people started leaving in ridicule. Is this really the power of the Übernatürlich-SS, the vaunted pride of the Paranormal Divison, the fruit of your labor, and the reason that you wasted all of our time in requesting our attendance? I feel... I feel as if this is a joke in poor taste! I feel insulted that I had been invited to participate in something this ridiculous!"

Another discussion erupted, close to being an argument of feverish and heated opinions. It even seemed like a few of the SS commanders might go to blows for a moment with the Wehrmacht staff, but this was soon interrupted as the door clattered open, and then subsequently closed on its own. There was a brief noise as it locked.

And then, silence, for a good five seconds. All of the people in the room stared in that direction - the closing had been near-instant, but everyone saw as the door locked itself. It was possible to see even in the relative umbrage of the room, lit only by a few candles, even for people who stood near the back.

It was further evidence in the Paranormal Division's ritual - most of them realized - or maybe a further trick?

"Are you still doubtful, Mr. Diethard?" Rauff asked with vague smugness.

"A string," the same professor from earlier declared, voice frightened - it wasn't as cocksure as before, but held a deep resolve, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as the others. "It was a string, pulling the door, and, uhm... another string was in the lock."

"Not a string," Joseph answered with a frown. "A spirit."

After a moment's wait, Rauff walked into the middle of the room, closer to the circle, and looked around as if in search of something, muttering spells in a few noble languages. It didn't produce any effect to his confusion - because this wasn't a vaettir, even one whose summoning was botched.

It was something else, as a result of Joseph's alteration to the ritual. His feet were uneasy; he shifted constantly, a small mote of fearful regret dancing in his chest like an ember near a fireplace. He didn't let it dominate his mind, however - he was the master of himself.

"Are you one of the vaettir, walking here among us?" Rauff asked promptly, returning back to German, voice carrying a note of reverent anxiety. He was pale in the face despite his earlier smugness, he'd noticed the spirit's unnatural behavior, and that was enough to tip him off.

This wasn't an experiment or prototype - they'd done this ritual a dozen times before, tested in laboratory conditions, and learned to predict its outcomes. It was meant to be a way of proving their labor's possible effects, a way to curry funding…

And yet, Rauff now realized that something was different.

A few seconds later, a voice whispered into their ears. It took a second for people to realize it came from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"I am. Who called me here?"

Once they realized, there was screaming, moving, pushing - a mad dash to go for the door.

As one of the Wehrmacht officers attempted to open it, he found it didn't budge. He yelled out that the door was locked, and then started to attempt to kick it down, but Joseph stopped him and pulled him away. "Calm yourself! Do you want to offend an ancestral spirit?"

It wasn't a fucking ancestral spirit, and he knew that, but now that it was here, he needed to make himself appear as useful as possible - servile - and to keep as many people in the room as possible.

There was a sudden pause, as many people realized they were stuck in a bad situation.

"We did," Rauff answered, finally, after several moments of nervous silence. "Are you keeping the door closed? Please, open it."

"It'd be improper to leave," Joseph hissed at him. "It'd be rude."

"I will not," said the spirit.

It revealed itself, then - a figure like the flakes of dust in a sunbeam, transient and untouchable. A spirit of wind, most of them, especially Rauff would've thought - for this, Joseph used one of his lesser incantations, letting himself soak in the aura of feelings and emotions circling the space around him. He drank in the fear with satisfaction, feeling contended that he'd finally proven them wrong in the end. There was one thing left to do, however, but that could wait - it'd resolve itself without his intervention.

Everyone in the room stared for a moment, as the creature stepped forward, out of the circle - an impossible deed for the circle they'd drawn. At last, Rauff breathed in as he realized it wasn't a vaettir.

It moved a bit closer to Rauff, a few steps - making the man back away in sudden alarm and realization that he was screwed. It opened its mouth to reveal opaque white and red teeth, like ivory stained with blood. It grinned at them, head swiveling around the room in a whimsical manner.

"My God," someone whispered. There were some thuds in the room, but Joseph was focused on the entity in front of him - on the wicked spirit.

"Fear not, little mortals. I can sense a great potential in you. Most of you hold some kind of deeply tethered darkness in your heart. You shall be great."

"Great?" Joseph asked. Contrary to most people in the room, he was calm - he controlled his own breathing, looking at the entity in front of himself with something that was almost like appreciation as he understood how much control it held over the situation. It appreciated his expression and emotions in return, favoring him with a grin.

"Most of the people in this room are cruel but talented," said the entity, responding to his question. "I can make great use of your souls, in various ways. Some of you as food, some of you as soldiers, a few as servants… And those of you I handpick shall be great, far beyond your current, fleeting imagination."

As the being spoke, Rauff was looking around the room and noticed one of the windows was open. There would've been bushes right below. As he stepped in the open window's direction, it closed itself remotely.

"None of that, mortal. We're friends," the entity said.

"I exorcise you," Rauff said, in Latin, and then continued the chant, "Every impure spirit, every Satanic power-"

He started to choke, hand desperately pawing at his own throat as he fell down onto his knees. A few seconds later, Rauff was dead, lying on the floor.

"You aren't a priest, mortal. You are a waste of potential. I'd thought that I might have two apprentices as I depart this wretched Earth. Now, I realize that I will only have one, won't I? How sad."

The demon smiled at him, at Joseph, and then looked the other corpses in the room, all of them cut down to the bone as if they'd been dipped into a pool filled with living, writhing razorblades for several hours. Joseph realized they'd been dead since the moment that someone spoke the name of god in the entity's presence.

All of them save Joseph and Rauff, the latter of whom died when he attempted to exorcise the entity they'd unwittingly called into the world.

It didn't want his torment, he realized, and instantly, his heart became lighter because it meant his gamble had paid off. It wanted his service - exactly as planned.

As if happy with the realization, the demon turned in order to address him, and came more fully into their reality - revealing itself as a wicked apparatus of sharp wrought iron barbs smashed together into a form reminiscent of a humanoid porcupine, its hairs segmented and sharpened like miniature chopping swords. Its eyes were pits into the unfathomably deep void; darker than starless midnight. Its claws were rusted and chipped, as if through heavy overuse. Its smile was made from needles of steel, as sharp and narrow as those of syringes, cutting into its gums of thin bronze.

"I am Baharot, the Blade of Cruel Sadness. And from now on, should you choose to accept my patronage, I am your new master, Joseph Maximillian von Herff. None of the mortals of this Earth know of this yet, but in the near future, this world shall bring Hell's entire attention onto itself, and Hell will send forth its paragons and tempter lords to conquer it and harvest its souls. Should you choose to accept me as your master, I will make you the leader of its would-be conquerors, and bestow you with power far beyond your feeble magic. You know nothing of sorcery yet - I will teach you its true signs."

"And if I refuse?" Some idiotic part of him asked itself that, and that unspoken question translated into spoken words a moment later. He was curious, but the demon didn't appear to mind such a hypothetical scenario.

It smiled. "Then I can make use of you in other ways, but I don't think you will. After all, you are exactly like me."

"And that would be?" He steeled himself.

It had been smiling already, but its smile broadened then - unnatural and wide, oddly symmetrical in a way that set his heart quivering in fear at its uncanniness. He didn't break externally, however - it wasn't like him to allow a creature of darkness or ghost to scare him. He would've never signed up with the Paranormal Division if that had been the case. He was Joseph Maximillian von Herff, a man who'd carved his own destiny from nothing, who'd mastered the secrets of terrestrial magic and summoned a demon onto the mortal Earth, and was then offered a deal as it desired to acquire his greatness in the form of a competent servant - all of his own doing and free will, as a part of his own plan to become something greater and more powerful even when the structure around him refused to let him ascend to his rightful place.

It confirmed as much in its reply.

"Isn't it obvious? We're pragmatists, and we both know that we're far better than our supposed..." it looked down at Rauff, sneering, "betters. I know it wasn't an accident that I was summoned here, Mr. Herff - I know you altered the spell when your half-witted rival wasn't looking. It's his loss, to be so blind and underestimate you."

"I suppose that is true," Joseph admitted finally. "Although I didn't expect you to kill so many people. I didn't believe that you'd have so much power."

"And that ought to make your answer to my offer all the clearer, hm?"

He contemplated its words for a time. It was sufficient to mull it over for several seconds - if he didn't accept, he'd simply die here, and his soul would be fed to their overlords anyway. And he'd summoned it here, in the hopes it would offer a pact, one almost exactly like this, anyhow.

It was better to serve in Hell than to fall into oblivion. And it was better to become a part of the abyss than stare it down forever without approaching and let it stare back.

"I suppose we are," Joseph finally surmised. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled back. "I accept."