Good morning, and happy holidays!
As with the Halloween update, I have prepared a spooky story to go with the current sale. This has been split across three different chapters, which will be released through the day. In addition, these announcements will feature artwork by three talented artists. A friend of mine who has played the game has commissioned them to produce images of her hunter, Liliana, and this seems like the perfect place to show them off.
The first is by Ryn (@_Rynnu on Twitter).
I hope everyone is having a great holiday season. Please enjoy the artwork and story!
A Winter Tale Part 1 – The Good Doctor
“Please, take a seat,” Doctor Louis said quietly, guiding the poor waif towards a padded chair. His study was dark, but the servants had built up the fire before retiring for the night. It cast a flickering glow across the woman's pinched, pale features as the doctor helped her to settle by the crackling logs. He tossed a few more pieces of wood onto the blaze to help warm the room, and by extension, the stray he had chanced upon.
He had been returning from his nightly journey to the temple of the Urizen – for Doctor Lewis was a devout and pious man – when he had seen the woman stumble out of an alley. She was wearing little more than rags despite the flurries of snow in the air. He had immediately thrown his overcoat around her thin shoulders and guided her to his home.
For many people this would have looked deeply suspicious, even scandalous. But doctor Lewis was known to be a good man. He was said to have a pocket of half-pennies to hand to orphans he encountered on his walks, and worked with the poor and destitute for little more than their tearful gratitude. Despite this altruism his personal finances were substantial, allowing him to afford the modest house he had led the woman to. Indeed, when a constable had encountered him and the shivering lass, he helped to lead her to the doctor's front door, and left satisfied that she was in good hands.
Having finished banking the fire, the good doctor checked his unexpected patient. She was unresponsive to his probing questions, and her flesh was still cold to the touch. She was human, and free from mutation, which pleased him greatly. There were deep cuts on her feet, and signs that she had been recently bound at the wrists and ankles. He tutted under his breath and stepped back.
The woman gazed into the distance, barely blinking. He snapped his fingers by her ear, and she did not even flinch at the sudden noise.
“Quite a mystery, aren't you,” he muttered to himself. He patted the woman on the shoulder and left to gather his tools. He was hopeful that the fire would warm her up enough to wake her from the trance. He was also thankful that the gods had seen fit to put her in his way on the night his servants would not be home. These things reminded him that humble prayers and clean living led to such rewards.
Instead of heading to his treatment room, Lewis walked to his study. The lock opened with a click as he slipped inside. He checked the cabinet beside his desk, and found it securely closed. Even the small thread he placed in the hinges was still where it had been left, so nobody had accessed it in his absence. His hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door and took out his instruments.
Doctor Lewis hated the term 'Broadsheet Killer'. It made it sound like his work was something base and tawdry. To him, it was similar to comparing his medical practice with some back-alley sawbones. No; he had a mission from the Urizen. A mission of dire importance. Hadn't He told him so, in dreams and waking visions? Hadn't he seen the face of the UIC's stern god in feverish opium dreams?
He would save this poor soul this night. A woman nobody knew of, who didn't react even to the pain of her lacerated feet. He would make her into a work of art, like all his other poor, poor girls. He felt the fever in his blood as he looked over the gleaming, silver-edged scalpels inside his secret case. Surely her appearance and behaviour showed this to be a miracle? Could anyone deny a hard-working man like himself these small pleasures?
As he snapped the clasp on the case shut, and reached for the stained leather apron at the back of the cabinet, he heard a crash from the living room. The screaming began a moment later.
