New tale: In Plaid Sight

[Lagwolf]

After a rather calm few months, the Sage was getting several disturbing reports from up the coast. Whether a matter of co-incidence or not, well, more likely not, as the Sage did not believe in co-incidence, the more Welsh the area, the more likely the deep ones would be messing about. This is not to say that the Welsh are more prone to succumbing to the lure of the Deep Ones. It is more of a case of many Welsh-speaking villages being far more insular than their English speaking ones. Even a native speaker, such as Claire, had a hard time getting anything out of the locals. Someone obviously “from away” like the Sage was well and truly stuff when it came to garnering information. Rupert tended to have more luck, but it was not worth conjecturing how he got his info.

The Sage was not always on the best terms with the party, Plaid; he was seen as a bit of a usurper as he was not native and worse yet English-speaking. However, his discretion in cleaning up various infiltrations made them more or less positive towards him. The fact that, at least once, a PC worker from Cardiff had disappeared or come unstuck when off ticking off some of the local constituency associations only helped his cause.

He first learned about the darker side of the “Party of Wales” when he heard that Pembrokeshire was unusual in the fact that people would be willing to put political signs up from any other party. In other areas to the north of Pems, signs did not last long, and occasionally a persistent posterer would have his house burnt down or his car trashed. The Sage first got involved when it became clear that whomever had trashed a car was rather stronger than your average human; the webbed footprints were not exactly par for the course, either. Campaign workers, far outside their strongholds, would be bruskly sent packing with veiled threats stinging their ears. As one official in another party said to him, “there is something fishy going on in that part of the county.” How right he was.

Rupert and the Sage had already dealt with one such fishy occurrence aways up the West Wales coast. One of the many hidden villages that dotted the coastline was rather more than it seemed. While the entire coast of the Eastern US had only a few such places, most famously Innsmouth, there are quite a few on the nominally short coast-line of Wales. The look was far more prevalent in some of the fishing areas than some might believe.

Of course, given half the chance, Claire would lecture the Sage and Rupert about some of the nastiness that goes on in parts of the Rhondda and its environs. Inner parts of the country shared quite a bit in common with the more isolated parts of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts.

While he was rather disappointed that there was another annoyance up the coast from his farmhouse in Pembrokeshire., he was far from surprised. This time someone from another party HQ decided to take it upon himself to venture where he probably should not have been without at least a guide. He was found slumped against his party's offices in Cardigan, drooling and blithering on in some gibberish not recognised as even the deepest dialect of the Cymru. The Sages was currently in Rupert’s Land Rover heading towards to Cardigan to take a look at the poor unfortunate before sending him off somewhere appropriate.

“So what do you think Sage? Too much Black Sheep ale or Deep One madness,” quipped Rupert as he drove up the A road.

“Well I hardly thing think it’s the result of a bender…no matter how strong the hooch he was drinking.”

“Well, you know that it could be a false alarm?”

“Very rarely to us…”

“Oh so true, Sage, but I can always hope,” he grumbled, “I was not exactly looking forward to another foray into some over-complicated named village of the damned.”

“You are so melodramatic, sometimes…” The Sage mocked his colleague, “it's possible that he stumped into that wonderful little hole we had to investigate a year or so ago.”

“It is rather unfortunate that we are not as keen as the 20th century American federales. We could have saved future problems with a few well placed missiles down the valley… I even came up with a great excuse. They practice with missiles near Aberaevon don’t they? Couldn’t one or two go out of wack?”

“I am afraid these days force, for most of us, is supposed to be the last resort, not the first one. After the last encounter, I doubt they will be that willing to remind us of their existence. Besides the proper people are keeping a close eye on the activities off the coast.”

“They might be proper, but are they any good at their job?”

“Well, I am sure we will find out sooner or later.”

Rupert grunted, “I somehow can’t understand how unmoved you can be by some of these things. It's as if the frustration never gets to you.”

“Rupert, there are a couple things that I remind myself of constantly. The first thing is that we will never win this war; we just need to win all the battles we can. Secondly, getting angry and frustrated just makes you mentally weak….I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that can be in all of this.”

“It just irks me that we are wasting…”

“Now don’t start your anti-UN rant again…it won’t do any good. We all know they aren’t ready to know what the earnest threat is to the world…I rather doubt they ever will be.”

The pair drove into Cardigan after a while, the Sage regretting that Claire was not available to come along. But then again, she was entitled to a life as much as Rupert was…even though he would not ever admit that to anyone.

The young man, they had not been told just how young, was being comforted at the home of one of the party committee who was a nurse. While not quite sure why all this was necessary, she went along with it out of respect for the Sage’s position.

It was a nice house with a high-hedge all the way round it, with a view across a hilly field, naturally filled with sheep. He was in a conservatory staring out across the field into the sky above the hillock. A small amount of drool featured in the left side of his mouth, but nothing too drippy. He looked comfortable enough, but had all the life about him of an Parkinson’s-ridden elderly relative.

Unlike some other cases, his hair was not bleached white, so the Sage wondered if it were possible to get him back to normal. Hopefully there would be no ill affects from this encounter, as the chap was in his early 20s and obviously wet behind the ears. His clothes had been washed, as they were not covered in sand and drool, but they were still completely out of place in West Wales.

The kind middle-aged nurse tried to get something out of him. She had explained she had experience in a geriatric ward of a Cardiff hospital. There was no getting through to him.

“Was he ranting for long after you found him?”

“No, not really, he was not doing much of anything. I was able to get him to walk, however, which is a good sign.”

“That is good to hear…thank you so much for not taking him off to the hospital. I rather doubt that would have been very helpful.”

“So, are you are relative of this poor fellow?” she queried. “Well it is a bit of relief he didn’t need a hospital, as there is not one anywhere near hear.”

“No, but I am looking after him for them. Will make sure he gets to where he needs to be immediately.” He paused and spoke to her in a reassuring doctorly way. “I am sure he will be fine, he is showing signs of improving. Obviously had a seizure of some sort but no permanent damage.” “At least not physically…” he said to himself.

He and Rupert would have to investigate this occurrence, but not today. They would expecting something…for now it was a matter of waiting…

The Sage and Rupert said their goodbyes and drove their charge to the train station. They were met by a pair of dour gentlemen who took the man without saying a word.

It would be at least few days of relaxation and wondering before it was determined what had happened. The man was in no condition to talk for several days, and then it was time-consuming to piece together what needed to answered. The place which had the young man would know how to get the right info without doing too much lasting damage to him. A normal hospital would not have done him any good at all, heavy sedatives would have trapped him in his own mind, not exactly the right course of action for someone in his tender condition.

In the end it was not the clinic that got in touch but someone quite surprising, or would be, to anyone other that the Sage and a few others. The master of one of the hunts in Ceredigion got in touch one evening to ask the Sage if he had heard about anything going on. It was not well known in many quarters but some of the hunts in the British Isles were not started to chase foxes or deer at all. They were in fact created to hunt less natural beasties.

The hunt was a continuing posse that specialised in investigating and dealing with various nasties that could be found in some of the remoter parts inland. It gave them carte blanche to go across all lands in their area including those that were owned by the King. The reason the hunts so often never managed to get a fox is much of the time they were not even chasing one. Hunts were known to flush out Deep Ones from their hidden dens and keep them from encroaching too far inland. Problems had been caused when animal rights types starting actually caring about the occasional fox that got grabbed. The hunts were forced to reinvent themselves to cover their real purpose.

Not all hunts chased were in such a business, but the hunt that the Sage was currently talking to was.

“I understand they found a man wandering round in a daze in Cardigan a few days ago. Didn’t you manage to have a chat with him?”

“Yes, we heard and have made sure he was sent to the proper place…”

“Ah yes, I was concerned he did not end up in hospital before you had a chance to see him. Its lucky there is not one for quite a ways away from Cardigan.”

“Yes, well done. It worked rather well. Can you tell me any more? We didn’t really get much out of him, I am afraid. He is no longer drooling, I gather, but he is still less than talkative.”

“Actually I can, it was us that found him and saved him from those that grabbed him.”

“Oh really, Rod? Where exactly was he? Did you know he was there?”

“No, the boy was rather lucky, it seems,” Roderick was of the old school that considered anyone under about 50 to be a boy. “We were not there to save him…we were merely there to get rid of nefarious characters trying to use a place we keep tabs on.”

“Human or less than?”

“Oh no, human. A bunch of cultists who wanted to try to use that stone in the far west of Ceredigion to raise one of our foes.”

“Oh, which one? Or do we know?’

“Well considering they were all naked I am guessing something that needed a bit of sex to pay any attention.”

“Ah yes, “ the Sage noted to himself which of several they could have been trying to raise. They would not necessarily have been mucking about with any nasties associated with Cthulhu; there were all sorts of others they could have been trying to reach. None of them good.

“Seeing as young chap was actually on the plinth at the time…we are guessing that he was to be sacrificed or merely ritually killed.”

“Oh nice…where was this lot from?” The Sage knew better than to ask what actually happened to those found. If it were deemed necessary he would be told.

‘They seemed to native to the country, as they were shouting expletives in Welsh when we hit them. We naturally warned them not to fight in Welsh instead of English.”

“Ah I see,” said the Sage over the phone. Rupert was in the same room doing his best not to look like he was listening into the conversation and determining what was going on.

“We are attempting to figure out what to do now to clear things up. The guy leading the whole thing was Plaid activist for the local area, I know the man, and several people there were active members as well. So we were forced to figure out how to make this stay fairly quiet.”

“Yes, of course, “ the Sage would not ask any further questions on that line of the subject. “So was the lad drugged when you found him?’

“He was completely out of it... I had to carry him out on the back of my horse. Despite the nasty knife next to him, he was unharmed. His state is probably caused by whatever they gave him and the chanting they were doing when we found him.” He paused and became very serious sounding, “He is very lucky we came upon him…very lucky indeed.”

“Well yes, quite, he was never even reported missing, I am afraid.”

“Well, you know some of those small communities in the east of the county, not big on co-operating with anyone outside their village. They are probably not going to be too happy we wandered onto their patch with the hunt. “

Rupert gave up on the chat he was overhearing, and went into the lounge to watch a bit of the local news. The first item was of particular interest.

“Plaid Cyrmu is reeling today after the death of 6 of their activists in West Wales. They were found, together with at least 10 other people in a barn in eastern Caredigeon burned to death. Initial reports are that the group were some sort of Solar Temple-like neo-pagan cult with a suicide pact. Local police say a large ceremonial dagger was found covered in the blood, and that the men & women were laid out naked in a pattern around their head, Roderick Jones. Roderick Jones had been a leading light in Plaid in West Wales. He was to stand as a candidate in the upcoming WPM election to be held in a few months time. National Plaid officials declined to comment on the matter and merely wished the families of those involved their condolences. There will be more on this on West Wales Today tomorrow morning.

All Rupert managed was a hurumph as he continued to watch the news. He was well aware that both Eden and the Sage were behind him watching the news. The Sage did not say a word and headed off to his office with Eden close behind him.

They would discuss the implications of this latest event over the next few days. The Sage, as opposed, to Rupert, sat in his chair and thought about the young man that sat quietly in a clinic on the other side of the country. The Sage had already called the clinic to inform them he needed no more information from the young man. There would be plenty time for that later, should the lad want to speak.

On the east side of Ceredigion, Rod went and checked on the horses quietly thanking them for being sush good mounts. He wondered to himself if they missed their fallen comrade, one more horse they would never hunt with again.

[janywatson]

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