top of page

A Mortal Possessed

The demon Jude smiling with sunglasses

Oh, meat, I truly love chaos.

Maggie has given up her maddened chase of me and retreated with this Hannah Donovan into one of the prison cells of the north wing that is restricted to Malifecium. I’m not entirely sure what the Dominion plans to do with the girl, but I will eventually worm my way into that knowledge.

Regardless, the political turmoil of this facility that has erupted from that unexpected explosion and resulting escape of some our most dangerous has increased an already tumultuous relationship between the Authority and the Malifecium.

In other words, the gloves are off.

The Malifecium will not tolerate the accusations that have been thrown down on us. Maggie herself has ordered a number of investigations that have all fallen on deaf ears, because we refuse an Authority security force nosing around the well-oiled machine that the Horde agents, here in the Asylum, have cultivated for millions of years.

The Authority’s insinuations are insulting. The Malifecium are not to be blamed for the lack of resources this facility has had to endure since day one. Unattended pipes do leak.

I promise you this, if the Authority continues to push, we will push back... in force.

On a lighter note, let me tell you why those 29 souls hanging out on the mortal plane has such unbelievably delicious implications:

First, let’s talk about possession, which will unquestionably be the first move on the part of the escapees. They will seek out innocence: mortals weak of spirit or laid to waste by vices or having lost that zest for life. Once they feel the target will be a suitable host, they take the body. And I don’t mean they whisper in the host’s ear and corrupt the soul through manipulation and promises of immortality. Such tactics aren’t necessary. If a mortal soul is weak then it is easily overtaken. A rogue soul will have no issue humping its way into the human meat shell and assuming complete control.

Well, not complete control. A body possessed is akin to a child learning to ride a bike for the first time. Unless you are the most experienced Thrall (who are all taught the art of possession the day of their first hatching), piloting a foreign body can get a little tricky. Not only are there nervous, skeletal, and muscular systems to navigate (you’d be surprised how many newly possessed bodies immediately soil themselves), but the meat puppet’s human soul has its own complicated network of emotions that the parasitic soul can many times have issues separating from its own.

Then there are the souls that put up a fight.

You ever walk down the street and see a perfectly normal looking mortal screaming at himself or a woman crying uncontrollably in the middle of a crosswalk, unable to take another step in her hysteria? More likely than not, that mortal is tussling with a dark entity giving the body a spin.

Now, once the 29 have found their host bodies, they will look to attain resources and, seeing as most of these souls were hardened criminals, mass murderers, child molesters, lawyers, heads of state, anarchists, and military despots, there will be theft, home invasions, manipulation, indecent integration into the lives of the original soul’s nearest and dearest, and, without a shadow of a doubt, death.

Death on a grand scale.

You see, when a body is not your own, you don’t feel as bad if it’s damaged. Pain is temporary for the newly inhabiting soul, so they aren’t concerned with taking a bullet or jumping off a building to escape capture or drowning themselves in a large body of water. If the host body physically expires, the original soul within passes on and the parasitic essence is back on the lookout for another carrier. It’s like buying a new pair of shoes. Once you wear them out or a hole forms in the toe, you toss them for a new pair.

This can go on and on for eternity. Dark souls, trying on and replacing human costumes and causing beautiful mayhem in the process.

Here is the final piece. And I salivate over the thought of it. A soul that inhabits a body long enough can corrupt the original soul within, transform its tendency toward good or evil. With a little direction, a little nudge, a substantial leader within the group, these souls could corrupt thousands, MILLIONS, of mortal souls at a very rapid rate.

What does this mean?

It means good hearted, family-oriented men and women of moral fiber will become violent to their loved ones, their neighbors. That violence will spill onto the streets. It will cause a tsunami of fear and loathing. The world will spiral into a chaos that TRUMPS anything you mortals have experienced to this point.

Diplomacy dies. Armies amass. Killing begins.

Then the missiles are launched...

You can see I’m smiling, yes?

This was all set in motion. And, unfortunately, the Authority and the Malifecium just can’t get on the same page to work toward a solution.

Tragic. But, what can you do, except sit back and look on in terror over the approaching Armageddon.

The virus has been unleashed, meat. I don’t foresee a cure.

I’m still smiling, aren’t I?



Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page