Gorkon
09-09-2007, 03:07
Thunderous applause welcomed the appearance of a young, well-dressed man with light blonde, somewhat spiky, hair, as he paced briskly through a large portcullis and onto a medieval-themed stage. His suit was well-tailored, a dark pinstripe variety; the tall collar of his light-blue shirt covered much of his neck, and a small pocket square poked out of his breast pocket neatly. After reaching up and straightening his striped necktie, Ardan Villenhelm threw his arms into the air to accept the adorations of the audience enthusiastically, smiling and bowing with vigour. A few seconds of this was deemed too long, however, and Villenhelm began waving his hands, shouting something over the noise as the crowd slowly took the hint and dropped to a silence.
“Thank you, thank you!” Villenhelm boomed, his voice gruff and deep for a man of his short and slender stature. “Ladies and gentlemen, here and across the country, I am your host Ardan Villenhelm, and it is my most distinct honour to welcome you to tonight’s Ghoulish Gorkon – LIVE! Only on the Spirituality Channel!”
The crowd picked up again, as though required to do so to prove that his words were genuine, but this time they were on a cue, and were promptly silenced by the same signs that told them to start in the first place.
“That’s right, the time is 22:30 hours local time and we’re broadcasting to you live from the great town of Reltshire!” Villenhelm continued, the crowd clapping and cheering as their home town was mentioned. “With me tonight are our resident parapsychologist Markus Geffers, and special-guest star Klith Onard, a world-renowned medium!”
Two more men came on set, one wearing a white suit without a shirt, and another, much taller, wearing nothing more than jeans and a white, un-tucked shirt. Both of them bowed slightly in recognition of the audience applause that had been prescribed to them by the omnipotent prompters and walked onto the stage to join Villenhelm as he sat down on a medieval-looking wooden bench.
“Gentlemen, a pleasure to have you here tonight,” Villenhelm said. “For those of you who have not seen our past live broadcasts, we make an effort to choose a particularly haunted location for a twenty-four hour live vigil. You can see everything happen as it transpires, with no editing or scripted events. Tonight we’ve chosen what is reputably one of the most haunted places in the whole of Gorkon – if not the entire hemisphere!”
“That’s right Ardan,” Geffers barged in. “Located on a small island off the coast of Reltshire is Kardinhall Estate – a large, very old complex centred on a disused castle. It’s most distinguishing feature is the large series of family cemeteries, mausoleums and catacombs located adjacent to the chapel, though the grounds are also home to stables, abandoned serf residences and numerous other facilities such as a blacksmith, barracks, guardhouses and a small dock area. While the estate has been abandoned for half a century now it is still in remarkably good order, and we have obtained permission from Central Command to open it up and get our investigators inside.”
“That’s exciting news, Markus,” Villenhelm said, touching his earpiece lightly. “I am just hearing now that our investigators have just arrived at the docks. Helenet, can you hear me?”
A large, flat screen monitor was lowered down over the heads of the presenters, and the image switched from the logo of the show – the words ‘Ghoulish Gorkon’ written in a spectral style, in Gorkonian of course – to that of a short, somewhat podgy woman with dark hair. Much of her head was covered by a furry hood, and she wore a very thick coat to combat the freezing cold of a traditional Gorkonian night. Her breath turned to ghostly clouds with each exhale, illuminated by the harsh flashlights that the production crew carried.
***
The land around Helenet Baor was dark, but it was clear that it was steep, grassy hill up from the rickety wooden docks where they now stood. An eerie mist hung over the entire landscape, and the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the frigid water against the wooden struts of the dock platform. For them it was perfect, as nothing helped create that necessary haunted atmosphere like a nice, chilly mist in the dark. What the viewing audience didn’t know, of course, was that a small team from the production company had been airlifted right next to the mansion by helicopter hours earlier, with the intention of discretely entering the mansion that they were destined to ‘break into’, and setting up all manners of subtle but effective ‘hauntings’. By the time the self-proclaimed investigators arrived, there would be no sign of human disturbances whatsoever, and the viewers would remain blissfully ignorant.
Many times, the moral issue of lying to so many was raised by the more conscientious members of the crew, but they all agreed that when a big production company demanded sufficient ratings to justify their continued employment, morality went out of the window. At the end of the day, ghosts did not exist, but the viewing public were already convinced that they did or they wouldn’t be watching. So why not give them a little hope, with some white lies and a few slamming doors?
Baor could think of better ways to be spending her Saturday nights though, even if she was getting paid extra to be here. It was painfully cold even for a Gorkonian night, and even her thick coat wasn’t doing much to hold in the warmth. Gloves? Nothing short of a nuclear reactor core would warm her numb fingers by this point – and she’d only been outside for a couple of hours. As soon as she realised that she was live, she touched her earpiece to hear what was being said in the studio, and then looked up at the hurriedly-set up camera with a feigned smile. She found it more of an effort to speak with her numbed lips than she thought it would be, but nevertheless, the show must go on…
“Hello Ardan,” she said. “Yes we can hear you. As you can see, we’ve arrived at the docks now. It’s about a ten or fifteen minute walk up this hill and across a field, and we’ll come to the main gates of Castle Kardinhall. None of our people have been up there yet, so we’re not sure what to expect, but by what the government told us of its present condition I think we’ll be able to break through when we’re there. Any chance of sending Klith to us?”
***
Villenhelm laughed dryly and glanced over at Onard. “Well Klith, it looks like you’ve been summoned. Before you head out there, do you have any idea what we are likely to see up there tonight?”
Klith shook his head slowly. “Though I cannot say for certain until I get to the site, Ardan, already I feel a strong presence at that estate. What kind of presence I am not sure, but I imagine that we should experience some good activity tonight.”
“Good to hear it, Klith,” Villenhelm said. “You’d better get to your speedboat quickly! Klith Onard, ladies and gentlemen!”
The crowd cheered as the white-suited, grey-haired man stood up from the uncomfortable wooden bench and jogged off stage quickly. Only after he had disappeared completely did the applause start to die down.
“Markus, what do we know about Kardinhall Estate exactly?” Villenhelm asked Geffers once silence had prevailed.
“Local history shows that the estate was first established in 1462 C.E. by order of the Monarchy as a coastal vigil for the Reltshire town, which was a very important fishing and trading port at the time,” Geffers told the presenter. “The noble family of Kardinhall had governed over the town for a long time, and owned much of it, and moved their seat to Kardinhall Castle once it was completed. There a small garrison was stationed, along with many serfs owned by the family, in specially-built residences outside of the main castle grounds. A chapel was built onto the side of the castle soon afterwards, and the last three generations to be buried in the old Kardinhall cemetery were interred and moved to the new cemetery. After only three decades of completion the castle had warded off two major invasion attempts. The Castle became the central point for law and order in Reltshire. Prisons, trials and executions all took place there over many centuries, and the Kardinhalls were known for their strictness. Petty thievery could earn one a death penalty, and the methods of execution were usually brutal and painful. The Kardinhalls also began a crusade against piracy, and many renowned pirates were executed there after being caught in the surrounding waters.
“However, as the years went by, and the political importance of Riltshire diminished, the family gained an increasing reputation for cruelty and insanity,” Geffers continued. “Townsfolk were taken from their homes during the night only to turn up mutilated, if they turned up at all. The family was accused of inbreeding, and especially for treating its female members in despicable ways, and it was often rocked by scandal as members of its own ranks were accused of killing and mutilating each other. By the last century of its reign, the family was also rumoured by the local populace to be dabbling in dark magics and necromantic experiments. When the Monarchy was overthrown by the Military twenty years ago, the Kardinhalls represented the last traces of aristocracy in Gorkon, and soldiers were quickly dispatched to put an end to them once and for all. In a quick operation, the grounds were seized by the government and every member of the Kardinhalls was executed on-sight. Those unfortunate soldiers who took part in the operation reported seeing some of the worst atrocities imaginable, both recent and history. While I don’t want to cover the details exactly, they mentioned finding live victims with their missing limbs put on display right in front of them, countless mutilated corpses both in the dungeons and the residences, as well as mass-graves of varying ages all over the grounds – to name only a few. High Command euthanized some of the live victims they found there, rescued those that they could, and put the estate under lockdown, which has remained in effect to this very day.
“Simply put, Ardan,” Geffers said with a note of finality. “While normally we take the time to describe specific events in the history of a site that may be a catalyst for supernatural activity, Castle Kardinhall and its grounds have so much death and suffering lingering over them, that it would take us months to cover each instance. And we imagine that the majority of the events that transpired there have not made it into the history books. Local fishermen venturing near the island at night for many years now have claimed to have heard sounds ranging from screams to laughter coming from the island, and even from the shore townsfolk have often reported seeing strange lights or hearing distant sounds in the right conditions. In my opinion, Kardinhall Estate is most definitely haunted.”
“Disturbing, Markus, very disturbing” Villenhelm said quietly. “Let’s hope that our investigators can learn more when they gain entry. We’ll be right back after this commercial break!”
***
Applause greeted viewers as the cameras panned right across the audience and back towards the stage. After some of the most bizarre late-night advertising on this third-rate satellite channel, this absurd television program was almost a welcome sight – almost. Quite why anybody had tuned in was a mystery, perhaps as part of some morbid curiosity that something supernatural might happen, or perhaps simply because they had nothing better to do.
“Welcome back to Ghoulish Gorkon LIVE!” Villenhelm shouted as the crowd continued to applaud. “We have just heard that our team is at the main gates and ready to gain entry to the castle proper – Helenet, how are things?”
***
Now joined by a panting Onard, who had switched his white suit for thick winter wear, Baor stood with two other members of the crew beneath a large, very gothic gatehouse, part of a large wall which surrounded the sillouhette of the castle behind them. Though no details could be made out in the darkness, it appeared to be a very large, very extravagant castle of a primarily gothic design style, with enormous spires jutting up into the cloudy sky and unnecessarily large gargoyles and other adornments dotted all along its upper levels.
“Ardan, we’ve made it to the gate, and Klith has just arrived on-time,” Baor said. Her arms were crossed firmly across her chest as she attempted to get warm, not expecting it to be any warmer inside the desolate castle. “These men are making an effort to cut the chains that the Military secured the gate with. Hopefully the hydraulic cutters we used should do the trick – if not, we can just cut through the gate instead.”
“Great, Helenet,” Villenhelm’s voice said. “Klith, are you sensing anything yet?”
The exhausted man seemed to be distracted by something more than his own fatigue, and almost doubled-over as he was asked the question. Baor always thought he could put on a good show, and now was no exception. She hoped that he would use the gag name she had put forward at lunch earlier in his act tonight.
“I… there is a very, very large presence here, Ardan,” Onard spluttered. “Many, many beings, all screaming at me at the same time… I am having a difficult time concentrating on any one of them. Oh… my… so much death and suffering!”
Baor coughed in an attempt to mask a chuckle at his over-the-top act, turning away from the camera in the hopes that nobody would notice.
“Perhaps when you are inside you will be able to get a more localised reading?” Villenhelm’s disembodied voice suggested.
“P… perhaps, Ardan… oooh…”
Rolling her lips inwards as she forced herself to retain a straight face, Baor looked back at the camera. “He has been struggling like this since he arrived, Ardan,” she said. “The boat crew had to help him get up here, as he was having difficulty just walking.”
As soon as she said that, the camera quickly jerked to one side and zoomed in on the castle behind them – one of the windows had just illuminated at that moment, as though a light had been switched on inside. Moments later, it shut off again, giving the castle an even darker appearance than it had before. Excited panic seemed to prevail over the crew in the wake of that ‘unexpected’ event.
“Oh my god!”
“Did you see that?”
“Ardan, I don’t know if you guys in the studio saw that just then, but it looked like a light in one of the upper floor windows on the east wing was turned on and then off again,” Baor said quickly. “There’s definitely some activity going on here!”
As though on a cue, there was a sharp pinging sound followed by a dull thud, which startled all of the crew, including Baor; even though she knew that whatever was to happen here tonight was staged, the atmosphere still kept her on edge.
“What was that?! Did you guys hear that?”
“Sorry, it was just me,” one of the cutting crew shouted. “I think…”
The man in his fluorescent winter coat stood up and placed the large pneumatic cutting jaws on the ground out of the way. He grasped the bars with his gloved hands and pulled against the gate with his entire bodyweight. The rusted hinges squealed loudly, as they were moved for the first time in two decades, but they stopped hard after only a slight movement. Two more crew members quickly moved forwards and took hold of the bars, and in unison they all pulled against the metal barrier at the same time. Against that much weight, the hinges gave in – the gate became unstuck, and all three of the crewmen toppled over backwards onto the frozen grass as it swung open and clanged against the stone wall of the gatehouse.
Immediately sensing another ghostly opportunity, one of the crew said, “Did you guys feel that? Like… something was trying to hold the gate closed?”
“Yeah!” one of the others shouted, almost too transparently, as he saw what his colleague was doing and played along. “Then it just let go… and I got this tingly feeling down my spine.”
Baor once again had to hide a smile; considering these guys were new to this, they were very good. It was a shame they wouldn’t be going in with them, as it looked as though they had some good ideas.
“Ardan, the guys have reported some supernatural resistance already,” she said to the camera, putting on a concerned expression. “We’re all pretty nervous out here, and I don’t know what to expect, but we’re going to take the plunge and head in now!”
“Great guys, get in there!” Villenhelm said enthusiastically, over the sound of audience applause. “For the first time in twenty years, people are going to gain entry into this sinister building. Who knows what they’re going to find in there?”
Flashlights danced across the overgrown gravel driveway leading up to the ominous main doors to the castle, as the crew made their way towards the building. Now the crew consisted of only six people; the three investigators and the film crew. Wobbling camera images showed the castle in more detail as torches were shone up it; made from large grey stones, the castle was incredibly elaborate, with engraved curling patterns running along its entire width, with large, arched windows dotting the walls at equidistant points. Baor was certain those ugly gargoyles high above them were watching them, a thought that was foremost in her mind as an enormous rock suddenly slammed down onto the ground in front of them. The crew jumped back and screamed as they shielded their eyes from the gravel that flew everywhere like shrapnel, and the camera finally looked down at the rock when the dust had cleared.
“Something really doesn’t want us getting in here!” said Jergen Flemmish, the third member of the investigative team.
Baor swore under her breath; the team inside the castle were supposed to be scaring the audience, not putting their lives at risk. Though she couldn’t say a word, nor even show her anger on camera, she made a mental note to have stern words with them once this bullshit was over and done with.
“Be careful, everybody,” Baor said quietly. Nodding, the crew began walking again, slowly this time, stepping carefully around the dislodged stone and moving towards the staircase. They came to a stop underneath the canopy that shielded the enormous wooden main doors from the elements.
“Are the doors…?” Flemmish began. The doors answered his question – there was a clunking sound, and the doors slowly began to drift open with an unnerving creak. Movie stereotypes were coming to life right before their eyes, and though furious that they had nearly been flattened, Baor was impressed with their antics this time. The inside crew were really going all out on this one, obviously knowing that this castle and its history was a big opportunity for mischief.
“I’ve… I’ve never seen supernatural activity of this scope before, Ardan,” Baor said, putting on a shaky voice. “I mean… we’ve experienced activity before, but this is the strongest… and most intense that I’ve personally seen.”
“This could be more dangerous than I thought,” Flemmish said. Flemmish was always one of the best actors of the group, and despite supposedly being the voice of science on these little expeditions, he had no qualms with throwing scientific principle out of the window to put on a good show. “Can we re-determine whether or not we enter, Ardan?”
Back in the studio, Villenhelm nodded and released his touch on his earpiece. Looking back at the strangely quiet audience, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are just going to get confirmation from our paranormal experts as to whether it is still safe to enter the site, due to the unprecedented level of supernatural activity they have experienced before even going through the door. While they do that, we’ll take a short break!”
***
Somehow the sales department for the rarely-viewed Spirituality channel had managed to find even worse filler advertisements for the commercial break. As the channel had a policy never to accept the typical sorts of adverts that other channels used as filler at this time of night – such as gambling websites, sex chat lines and the like – they had to rely on even more low-budged advertisements, including one two-minute advert for a garden fork. By now the program was becoming watchable by comparison, and it cut straight to the scene at the castle instead of returning to the studio. Unaware that they were live, the crew were caught on-camera at the end of a joke that caused them all to snigger, but they quickly regained their nervous composure and looked straight at the camera.
“Helenet, our experts say that it should still be OK to proceed inside,” Villenhelm said. “Let’s see what’s in there!”
The crew nodded without saying a word. Baor had done this a thousand times before, and knew how to keep the suspense. They would go in, wander around for a little while – experiencing some of the tricks left behind by the crew inside along the way – and then get Onard to talk to some ghosties. It was all very straightforward, and normally went off without a hitch, despite several anti-GG websites springing up accusing them of fraud, anyway.
Cautiously, Baor stepped in through the open doorway first. The moon was out now, and light streamed in through the dirty windows. Her torch added to the illumination, and she was clearly able to see that they were entering a main hall typical of this sort of building, with two parallel spiralling staircases leading up from the ground to a promenade above, which in turn lead off to the east and west wings respectively. White marble constituted the floor, although it had become darker with years of dust which, thankfully, had remained undisturbed by the ever-diligent inside team. Most of the walls were made of stone, given the age of the building, but in its later years they had been covered with wooden panels which remained to this day. Faded paintings of maniacal-looking Kardinhall family members lined the walls, along with a few expensive artefacts on pedestals. Both staircases had small busts of an unidentified male on tips of their rails, which only served to make the place creepier.
Almost as soon as the camera had passed through the doors, they slammed shut – hard. Hard enough to blow the dust around them like a wave in the ocean, clearing off a great swathe of dust from the white floor. Baor had a feeling they would do that, but the concussive force with which they did so surprised even her, and she let out a short, girly scream as she jumped out of her skin. Fortunately, it all added to the dramatic effect. As expected, the camera span around to look at the doors quickly for dramatic effect, though this time the inside team had outdone themselves – Baor could not figure out how they had managed to get the door to slam shut like that. There were no ropes or cables that she could see, nor any other mechanisms that were outwardly visible. She came to the conclusion that they had installed motors of some kind in the hinges, and thought nothing more of it.
The castle itself was surprisingly warm, considering the temperature outside. Warm enough that they all found themselves able to pull down their hoods without being too uncomfortable. Though there were no lights, as nobody had been around to pay the electricity bill for several years now, the moonlight that streaked through the dusty air was sufficient for now.
Onard began his part of the show immediately, as per usual. “I sense so much evil in this place… tyrants and victims, from many generations, trapped here in an eternal struggle… so many voices…”
“I think we’ll take the east wing first,” Baor whispered to the camera as Flemmish helped Onard to his feet. “The main entrance to the old dungeons is supposed to be that way, so hopefully we’ll get some even stronger activity over there.”
The crew cautiously began to move through the hall and towards one of the doors on the east wall. They found themselves unnerved by the paintings, but even more so as they opened the door, and found burning torches lining the corridor that lay behind it. The crew weren’t supposed to turn any lights on once they were inside – the nightvision camera added to the atmosphere, and it wouldn’t work in the light. Unable to do anything about it now, the crew walked anxiously down the long corridor.
Soon they found a large dining room. A massive rectangular table dominated the room. It was still adorned with silverware, and several of the high-backed chairs were knocked over or strewn around in a disorganised fashion. As with the corridor, the dining room was surprisingly illuminated by several burning chandeliers overhead, which cast only a dim light and murky shadows down around them. Baor felt a shiver down her spine, and noticed her breath turning to wisps of cloud once again. It was clear that this place had been left exactly as it was found by the Military all those years ago; she had visions of the Kardinhall’s last meal being disturbed by armed men gunning them down as they swept through the castle.
The door behind them slammed shut, hard enough to clatter some of the cutlery on the table ahead of them and blow choking dust everywhere. While they were busy coughing and spluttering, Baor was shocked as Onard suddenly gained a bout of strength, shoving Flemmish aside as though he was a ragdoll and standing up straight.
“Kardinhalls can never be silenced death brings us strength,” he said quickly, his voice taking on a surprising growl to its tone. His last words were slower, and bellowed so deeply that the chandeliers overhead rattled, “Your lives are ours.”
With that he stumbled backwards, caught by Flemmish once again.
“What happened?” Baor asked with genuine concern. She was impressed at how well he had adjusted his voice, but it wasn’t part of the discussions they had earlier. Improvisation was one thing, but this…
“I… don’t know,” Onard stammered, trying to catch his breath. “I felt… something… powerful, inside me! It took control of my body, forced me to one side… so much power…”
“Are you alright Klith?” Flemmish asked. He put his arm around him to steady to wobbly man, who was putting on one hell of a show. “Don’t throw me like that again, eh?”
“I think… we should leave… now!” Onard shouted. “Now!”
“OK, OK!” Baor said. At this point she wasn’t sure if he was acting or having a psychotic episode, and was beginning to get a little concerned. “Ardan, we’re heading out, there’s just too much supernatural activity for us to…”
A chair flew across the room, slamming up against the closed door that marked their exit.
“Erm… let’s find another way,” Flemmish said.
“Fuck the show… guys!” Baor shouted. “Guys! This is too much! You can stop now!”
Her answer came in a simple but abrupt manner. From seemingly out of nowhere, a fork shot across the room and embedded itself into Flemmish’s neck. Blood splattered across all of the members of the crew, and Onard fell to the ground. Flemmish grabbed his neck and tried to speak, but nothing but a raspy gasp came out as he fell to his knees and toppled backwards.
“Shit!” Baor screamed. “Fucking hell! Guys you just killed Jergen for crying out loud! What the fuck are you doing?! Get down here! Ardan, this is over – we have to get out of here!” When no response came, they panicked and sprinted across the room towards another door, yanking it open with a creak and revealing another illuminated corridor. All of them, including a terrified Onard, sprinted down the corridor, with the cameraman paying no particular attention to keeping the picture straight. A scream came from behind them, somewhere out of sight, and the cameraman turned around to see one of the camera crew missing. A bellowing laugh so loud that it could be heard by the crew outside echoed down the corridors as all of the flaming torches suddenly went dead, leaving them only with flashlights. As the camera swung around yet again it showed the rest of the crew lying dead in pools of blood, one of them – Helenet Baor – decapitated.
The picture went static as a terrifying, translucent white face suddenly burst in front of the camera, unleashing a blood-curdling scream that lasted for only a split-second before the picture went dead.
***
The broadcast diverted back to the studio, where Villenhelm stood gawking up at the enormous monitor above him in silence. Audience members sat mostly in stunned silence, with only a few whispering amongst themselves. Villenhelm, somewhat dazed by events, touched his earpiece after a few moments of silence and then turned around to face the cameras.
“Ladies and gentlemen; I am sorry to inform you that due to… technical difficulties, Ghoulish Gorkon Live! is going off-air,” he said quietly. “We apologise for any inconvenience.”
With that, the picture cut to a technical error image, which was ultimately replaced by advertisements.
The next day, the little-known Spirituality Channel suddenly found itself much more famous, being as it was pictured on every newspaper front cover and every television news report across the country, and beyond even.
“Thank you, thank you!” Villenhelm boomed, his voice gruff and deep for a man of his short and slender stature. “Ladies and gentlemen, here and across the country, I am your host Ardan Villenhelm, and it is my most distinct honour to welcome you to tonight’s Ghoulish Gorkon – LIVE! Only on the Spirituality Channel!”
The crowd picked up again, as though required to do so to prove that his words were genuine, but this time they were on a cue, and were promptly silenced by the same signs that told them to start in the first place.
“That’s right, the time is 22:30 hours local time and we’re broadcasting to you live from the great town of Reltshire!” Villenhelm continued, the crowd clapping and cheering as their home town was mentioned. “With me tonight are our resident parapsychologist Markus Geffers, and special-guest star Klith Onard, a world-renowned medium!”
Two more men came on set, one wearing a white suit without a shirt, and another, much taller, wearing nothing more than jeans and a white, un-tucked shirt. Both of them bowed slightly in recognition of the audience applause that had been prescribed to them by the omnipotent prompters and walked onto the stage to join Villenhelm as he sat down on a medieval-looking wooden bench.
“Gentlemen, a pleasure to have you here tonight,” Villenhelm said. “For those of you who have not seen our past live broadcasts, we make an effort to choose a particularly haunted location for a twenty-four hour live vigil. You can see everything happen as it transpires, with no editing or scripted events. Tonight we’ve chosen what is reputably one of the most haunted places in the whole of Gorkon – if not the entire hemisphere!”
“That’s right Ardan,” Geffers barged in. “Located on a small island off the coast of Reltshire is Kardinhall Estate – a large, very old complex centred on a disused castle. It’s most distinguishing feature is the large series of family cemeteries, mausoleums and catacombs located adjacent to the chapel, though the grounds are also home to stables, abandoned serf residences and numerous other facilities such as a blacksmith, barracks, guardhouses and a small dock area. While the estate has been abandoned for half a century now it is still in remarkably good order, and we have obtained permission from Central Command to open it up and get our investigators inside.”
“That’s exciting news, Markus,” Villenhelm said, touching his earpiece lightly. “I am just hearing now that our investigators have just arrived at the docks. Helenet, can you hear me?”
A large, flat screen monitor was lowered down over the heads of the presenters, and the image switched from the logo of the show – the words ‘Ghoulish Gorkon’ written in a spectral style, in Gorkonian of course – to that of a short, somewhat podgy woman with dark hair. Much of her head was covered by a furry hood, and she wore a very thick coat to combat the freezing cold of a traditional Gorkonian night. Her breath turned to ghostly clouds with each exhale, illuminated by the harsh flashlights that the production crew carried.
***
The land around Helenet Baor was dark, but it was clear that it was steep, grassy hill up from the rickety wooden docks where they now stood. An eerie mist hung over the entire landscape, and the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of the frigid water against the wooden struts of the dock platform. For them it was perfect, as nothing helped create that necessary haunted atmosphere like a nice, chilly mist in the dark. What the viewing audience didn’t know, of course, was that a small team from the production company had been airlifted right next to the mansion by helicopter hours earlier, with the intention of discretely entering the mansion that they were destined to ‘break into’, and setting up all manners of subtle but effective ‘hauntings’. By the time the self-proclaimed investigators arrived, there would be no sign of human disturbances whatsoever, and the viewers would remain blissfully ignorant.
Many times, the moral issue of lying to so many was raised by the more conscientious members of the crew, but they all agreed that when a big production company demanded sufficient ratings to justify their continued employment, morality went out of the window. At the end of the day, ghosts did not exist, but the viewing public were already convinced that they did or they wouldn’t be watching. So why not give them a little hope, with some white lies and a few slamming doors?
Baor could think of better ways to be spending her Saturday nights though, even if she was getting paid extra to be here. It was painfully cold even for a Gorkonian night, and even her thick coat wasn’t doing much to hold in the warmth. Gloves? Nothing short of a nuclear reactor core would warm her numb fingers by this point – and she’d only been outside for a couple of hours. As soon as she realised that she was live, she touched her earpiece to hear what was being said in the studio, and then looked up at the hurriedly-set up camera with a feigned smile. She found it more of an effort to speak with her numbed lips than she thought it would be, but nevertheless, the show must go on…
“Hello Ardan,” she said. “Yes we can hear you. As you can see, we’ve arrived at the docks now. It’s about a ten or fifteen minute walk up this hill and across a field, and we’ll come to the main gates of Castle Kardinhall. None of our people have been up there yet, so we’re not sure what to expect, but by what the government told us of its present condition I think we’ll be able to break through when we’re there. Any chance of sending Klith to us?”
***
Villenhelm laughed dryly and glanced over at Onard. “Well Klith, it looks like you’ve been summoned. Before you head out there, do you have any idea what we are likely to see up there tonight?”
Klith shook his head slowly. “Though I cannot say for certain until I get to the site, Ardan, already I feel a strong presence at that estate. What kind of presence I am not sure, but I imagine that we should experience some good activity tonight.”
“Good to hear it, Klith,” Villenhelm said. “You’d better get to your speedboat quickly! Klith Onard, ladies and gentlemen!”
The crowd cheered as the white-suited, grey-haired man stood up from the uncomfortable wooden bench and jogged off stage quickly. Only after he had disappeared completely did the applause start to die down.
“Markus, what do we know about Kardinhall Estate exactly?” Villenhelm asked Geffers once silence had prevailed.
“Local history shows that the estate was first established in 1462 C.E. by order of the Monarchy as a coastal vigil for the Reltshire town, which was a very important fishing and trading port at the time,” Geffers told the presenter. “The noble family of Kardinhall had governed over the town for a long time, and owned much of it, and moved their seat to Kardinhall Castle once it was completed. There a small garrison was stationed, along with many serfs owned by the family, in specially-built residences outside of the main castle grounds. A chapel was built onto the side of the castle soon afterwards, and the last three generations to be buried in the old Kardinhall cemetery were interred and moved to the new cemetery. After only three decades of completion the castle had warded off two major invasion attempts. The Castle became the central point for law and order in Reltshire. Prisons, trials and executions all took place there over many centuries, and the Kardinhalls were known for their strictness. Petty thievery could earn one a death penalty, and the methods of execution were usually brutal and painful. The Kardinhalls also began a crusade against piracy, and many renowned pirates were executed there after being caught in the surrounding waters.
“However, as the years went by, and the political importance of Riltshire diminished, the family gained an increasing reputation for cruelty and insanity,” Geffers continued. “Townsfolk were taken from their homes during the night only to turn up mutilated, if they turned up at all. The family was accused of inbreeding, and especially for treating its female members in despicable ways, and it was often rocked by scandal as members of its own ranks were accused of killing and mutilating each other. By the last century of its reign, the family was also rumoured by the local populace to be dabbling in dark magics and necromantic experiments. When the Monarchy was overthrown by the Military twenty years ago, the Kardinhalls represented the last traces of aristocracy in Gorkon, and soldiers were quickly dispatched to put an end to them once and for all. In a quick operation, the grounds were seized by the government and every member of the Kardinhalls was executed on-sight. Those unfortunate soldiers who took part in the operation reported seeing some of the worst atrocities imaginable, both recent and history. While I don’t want to cover the details exactly, they mentioned finding live victims with their missing limbs put on display right in front of them, countless mutilated corpses both in the dungeons and the residences, as well as mass-graves of varying ages all over the grounds – to name only a few. High Command euthanized some of the live victims they found there, rescued those that they could, and put the estate under lockdown, which has remained in effect to this very day.
“Simply put, Ardan,” Geffers said with a note of finality. “While normally we take the time to describe specific events in the history of a site that may be a catalyst for supernatural activity, Castle Kardinhall and its grounds have so much death and suffering lingering over them, that it would take us months to cover each instance. And we imagine that the majority of the events that transpired there have not made it into the history books. Local fishermen venturing near the island at night for many years now have claimed to have heard sounds ranging from screams to laughter coming from the island, and even from the shore townsfolk have often reported seeing strange lights or hearing distant sounds in the right conditions. In my opinion, Kardinhall Estate is most definitely haunted.”
“Disturbing, Markus, very disturbing” Villenhelm said quietly. “Let’s hope that our investigators can learn more when they gain entry. We’ll be right back after this commercial break!”
***
Applause greeted viewers as the cameras panned right across the audience and back towards the stage. After some of the most bizarre late-night advertising on this third-rate satellite channel, this absurd television program was almost a welcome sight – almost. Quite why anybody had tuned in was a mystery, perhaps as part of some morbid curiosity that something supernatural might happen, or perhaps simply because they had nothing better to do.
“Welcome back to Ghoulish Gorkon LIVE!” Villenhelm shouted as the crowd continued to applaud. “We have just heard that our team is at the main gates and ready to gain entry to the castle proper – Helenet, how are things?”
***
Now joined by a panting Onard, who had switched his white suit for thick winter wear, Baor stood with two other members of the crew beneath a large, very gothic gatehouse, part of a large wall which surrounded the sillouhette of the castle behind them. Though no details could be made out in the darkness, it appeared to be a very large, very extravagant castle of a primarily gothic design style, with enormous spires jutting up into the cloudy sky and unnecessarily large gargoyles and other adornments dotted all along its upper levels.
“Ardan, we’ve made it to the gate, and Klith has just arrived on-time,” Baor said. Her arms were crossed firmly across her chest as she attempted to get warm, not expecting it to be any warmer inside the desolate castle. “These men are making an effort to cut the chains that the Military secured the gate with. Hopefully the hydraulic cutters we used should do the trick – if not, we can just cut through the gate instead.”
“Great, Helenet,” Villenhelm’s voice said. “Klith, are you sensing anything yet?”
The exhausted man seemed to be distracted by something more than his own fatigue, and almost doubled-over as he was asked the question. Baor always thought he could put on a good show, and now was no exception. She hoped that he would use the gag name she had put forward at lunch earlier in his act tonight.
“I… there is a very, very large presence here, Ardan,” Onard spluttered. “Many, many beings, all screaming at me at the same time… I am having a difficult time concentrating on any one of them. Oh… my… so much death and suffering!”
Baor coughed in an attempt to mask a chuckle at his over-the-top act, turning away from the camera in the hopes that nobody would notice.
“Perhaps when you are inside you will be able to get a more localised reading?” Villenhelm’s disembodied voice suggested.
“P… perhaps, Ardan… oooh…”
Rolling her lips inwards as she forced herself to retain a straight face, Baor looked back at the camera. “He has been struggling like this since he arrived, Ardan,” she said. “The boat crew had to help him get up here, as he was having difficulty just walking.”
As soon as she said that, the camera quickly jerked to one side and zoomed in on the castle behind them – one of the windows had just illuminated at that moment, as though a light had been switched on inside. Moments later, it shut off again, giving the castle an even darker appearance than it had before. Excited panic seemed to prevail over the crew in the wake of that ‘unexpected’ event.
“Oh my god!”
“Did you see that?”
“Ardan, I don’t know if you guys in the studio saw that just then, but it looked like a light in one of the upper floor windows on the east wing was turned on and then off again,” Baor said quickly. “There’s definitely some activity going on here!”
As though on a cue, there was a sharp pinging sound followed by a dull thud, which startled all of the crew, including Baor; even though she knew that whatever was to happen here tonight was staged, the atmosphere still kept her on edge.
“What was that?! Did you guys hear that?”
“Sorry, it was just me,” one of the cutting crew shouted. “I think…”
The man in his fluorescent winter coat stood up and placed the large pneumatic cutting jaws on the ground out of the way. He grasped the bars with his gloved hands and pulled against the gate with his entire bodyweight. The rusted hinges squealed loudly, as they were moved for the first time in two decades, but they stopped hard after only a slight movement. Two more crew members quickly moved forwards and took hold of the bars, and in unison they all pulled against the metal barrier at the same time. Against that much weight, the hinges gave in – the gate became unstuck, and all three of the crewmen toppled over backwards onto the frozen grass as it swung open and clanged against the stone wall of the gatehouse.
Immediately sensing another ghostly opportunity, one of the crew said, “Did you guys feel that? Like… something was trying to hold the gate closed?”
“Yeah!” one of the others shouted, almost too transparently, as he saw what his colleague was doing and played along. “Then it just let go… and I got this tingly feeling down my spine.”
Baor once again had to hide a smile; considering these guys were new to this, they were very good. It was a shame they wouldn’t be going in with them, as it looked as though they had some good ideas.
“Ardan, the guys have reported some supernatural resistance already,” she said to the camera, putting on a concerned expression. “We’re all pretty nervous out here, and I don’t know what to expect, but we’re going to take the plunge and head in now!”
“Great guys, get in there!” Villenhelm said enthusiastically, over the sound of audience applause. “For the first time in twenty years, people are going to gain entry into this sinister building. Who knows what they’re going to find in there?”
Flashlights danced across the overgrown gravel driveway leading up to the ominous main doors to the castle, as the crew made their way towards the building. Now the crew consisted of only six people; the three investigators and the film crew. Wobbling camera images showed the castle in more detail as torches were shone up it; made from large grey stones, the castle was incredibly elaborate, with engraved curling patterns running along its entire width, with large, arched windows dotting the walls at equidistant points. Baor was certain those ugly gargoyles high above them were watching them, a thought that was foremost in her mind as an enormous rock suddenly slammed down onto the ground in front of them. The crew jumped back and screamed as they shielded their eyes from the gravel that flew everywhere like shrapnel, and the camera finally looked down at the rock when the dust had cleared.
“Something really doesn’t want us getting in here!” said Jergen Flemmish, the third member of the investigative team.
Baor swore under her breath; the team inside the castle were supposed to be scaring the audience, not putting their lives at risk. Though she couldn’t say a word, nor even show her anger on camera, she made a mental note to have stern words with them once this bullshit was over and done with.
“Be careful, everybody,” Baor said quietly. Nodding, the crew began walking again, slowly this time, stepping carefully around the dislodged stone and moving towards the staircase. They came to a stop underneath the canopy that shielded the enormous wooden main doors from the elements.
“Are the doors…?” Flemmish began. The doors answered his question – there was a clunking sound, and the doors slowly began to drift open with an unnerving creak. Movie stereotypes were coming to life right before their eyes, and though furious that they had nearly been flattened, Baor was impressed with their antics this time. The inside crew were really going all out on this one, obviously knowing that this castle and its history was a big opportunity for mischief.
“I’ve… I’ve never seen supernatural activity of this scope before, Ardan,” Baor said, putting on a shaky voice. “I mean… we’ve experienced activity before, but this is the strongest… and most intense that I’ve personally seen.”
“This could be more dangerous than I thought,” Flemmish said. Flemmish was always one of the best actors of the group, and despite supposedly being the voice of science on these little expeditions, he had no qualms with throwing scientific principle out of the window to put on a good show. “Can we re-determine whether or not we enter, Ardan?”
Back in the studio, Villenhelm nodded and released his touch on his earpiece. Looking back at the strangely quiet audience, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are just going to get confirmation from our paranormal experts as to whether it is still safe to enter the site, due to the unprecedented level of supernatural activity they have experienced before even going through the door. While they do that, we’ll take a short break!”
***
Somehow the sales department for the rarely-viewed Spirituality channel had managed to find even worse filler advertisements for the commercial break. As the channel had a policy never to accept the typical sorts of adverts that other channels used as filler at this time of night – such as gambling websites, sex chat lines and the like – they had to rely on even more low-budged advertisements, including one two-minute advert for a garden fork. By now the program was becoming watchable by comparison, and it cut straight to the scene at the castle instead of returning to the studio. Unaware that they were live, the crew were caught on-camera at the end of a joke that caused them all to snigger, but they quickly regained their nervous composure and looked straight at the camera.
“Helenet, our experts say that it should still be OK to proceed inside,” Villenhelm said. “Let’s see what’s in there!”
The crew nodded without saying a word. Baor had done this a thousand times before, and knew how to keep the suspense. They would go in, wander around for a little while – experiencing some of the tricks left behind by the crew inside along the way – and then get Onard to talk to some ghosties. It was all very straightforward, and normally went off without a hitch, despite several anti-GG websites springing up accusing them of fraud, anyway.
Cautiously, Baor stepped in through the open doorway first. The moon was out now, and light streamed in through the dirty windows. Her torch added to the illumination, and she was clearly able to see that they were entering a main hall typical of this sort of building, with two parallel spiralling staircases leading up from the ground to a promenade above, which in turn lead off to the east and west wings respectively. White marble constituted the floor, although it had become darker with years of dust which, thankfully, had remained undisturbed by the ever-diligent inside team. Most of the walls were made of stone, given the age of the building, but in its later years they had been covered with wooden panels which remained to this day. Faded paintings of maniacal-looking Kardinhall family members lined the walls, along with a few expensive artefacts on pedestals. Both staircases had small busts of an unidentified male on tips of their rails, which only served to make the place creepier.
Almost as soon as the camera had passed through the doors, they slammed shut – hard. Hard enough to blow the dust around them like a wave in the ocean, clearing off a great swathe of dust from the white floor. Baor had a feeling they would do that, but the concussive force with which they did so surprised even her, and she let out a short, girly scream as she jumped out of her skin. Fortunately, it all added to the dramatic effect. As expected, the camera span around to look at the doors quickly for dramatic effect, though this time the inside team had outdone themselves – Baor could not figure out how they had managed to get the door to slam shut like that. There were no ropes or cables that she could see, nor any other mechanisms that were outwardly visible. She came to the conclusion that they had installed motors of some kind in the hinges, and thought nothing more of it.
The castle itself was surprisingly warm, considering the temperature outside. Warm enough that they all found themselves able to pull down their hoods without being too uncomfortable. Though there were no lights, as nobody had been around to pay the electricity bill for several years now, the moonlight that streaked through the dusty air was sufficient for now.
Onard began his part of the show immediately, as per usual. “I sense so much evil in this place… tyrants and victims, from many generations, trapped here in an eternal struggle… so many voices…”
“I think we’ll take the east wing first,” Baor whispered to the camera as Flemmish helped Onard to his feet. “The main entrance to the old dungeons is supposed to be that way, so hopefully we’ll get some even stronger activity over there.”
The crew cautiously began to move through the hall and towards one of the doors on the east wall. They found themselves unnerved by the paintings, but even more so as they opened the door, and found burning torches lining the corridor that lay behind it. The crew weren’t supposed to turn any lights on once they were inside – the nightvision camera added to the atmosphere, and it wouldn’t work in the light. Unable to do anything about it now, the crew walked anxiously down the long corridor.
Soon they found a large dining room. A massive rectangular table dominated the room. It was still adorned with silverware, and several of the high-backed chairs were knocked over or strewn around in a disorganised fashion. As with the corridor, the dining room was surprisingly illuminated by several burning chandeliers overhead, which cast only a dim light and murky shadows down around them. Baor felt a shiver down her spine, and noticed her breath turning to wisps of cloud once again. It was clear that this place had been left exactly as it was found by the Military all those years ago; she had visions of the Kardinhall’s last meal being disturbed by armed men gunning them down as they swept through the castle.
The door behind them slammed shut, hard enough to clatter some of the cutlery on the table ahead of them and blow choking dust everywhere. While they were busy coughing and spluttering, Baor was shocked as Onard suddenly gained a bout of strength, shoving Flemmish aside as though he was a ragdoll and standing up straight.
“Kardinhalls can never be silenced death brings us strength,” he said quickly, his voice taking on a surprising growl to its tone. His last words were slower, and bellowed so deeply that the chandeliers overhead rattled, “Your lives are ours.”
With that he stumbled backwards, caught by Flemmish once again.
“What happened?” Baor asked with genuine concern. She was impressed at how well he had adjusted his voice, but it wasn’t part of the discussions they had earlier. Improvisation was one thing, but this…
“I… don’t know,” Onard stammered, trying to catch his breath. “I felt… something… powerful, inside me! It took control of my body, forced me to one side… so much power…”
“Are you alright Klith?” Flemmish asked. He put his arm around him to steady to wobbly man, who was putting on one hell of a show. “Don’t throw me like that again, eh?”
“I think… we should leave… now!” Onard shouted. “Now!”
“OK, OK!” Baor said. At this point she wasn’t sure if he was acting or having a psychotic episode, and was beginning to get a little concerned. “Ardan, we’re heading out, there’s just too much supernatural activity for us to…”
A chair flew across the room, slamming up against the closed door that marked their exit.
“Erm… let’s find another way,” Flemmish said.
“Fuck the show… guys!” Baor shouted. “Guys! This is too much! You can stop now!”
Her answer came in a simple but abrupt manner. From seemingly out of nowhere, a fork shot across the room and embedded itself into Flemmish’s neck. Blood splattered across all of the members of the crew, and Onard fell to the ground. Flemmish grabbed his neck and tried to speak, but nothing but a raspy gasp came out as he fell to his knees and toppled backwards.
“Shit!” Baor screamed. “Fucking hell! Guys you just killed Jergen for crying out loud! What the fuck are you doing?! Get down here! Ardan, this is over – we have to get out of here!” When no response came, they panicked and sprinted across the room towards another door, yanking it open with a creak and revealing another illuminated corridor. All of them, including a terrified Onard, sprinted down the corridor, with the cameraman paying no particular attention to keeping the picture straight. A scream came from behind them, somewhere out of sight, and the cameraman turned around to see one of the camera crew missing. A bellowing laugh so loud that it could be heard by the crew outside echoed down the corridors as all of the flaming torches suddenly went dead, leaving them only with flashlights. As the camera swung around yet again it showed the rest of the crew lying dead in pools of blood, one of them – Helenet Baor – decapitated.
The picture went static as a terrifying, translucent white face suddenly burst in front of the camera, unleashing a blood-curdling scream that lasted for only a split-second before the picture went dead.
***
The broadcast diverted back to the studio, where Villenhelm stood gawking up at the enormous monitor above him in silence. Audience members sat mostly in stunned silence, with only a few whispering amongst themselves. Villenhelm, somewhat dazed by events, touched his earpiece after a few moments of silence and then turned around to face the cameras.
“Ladies and gentlemen; I am sorry to inform you that due to… technical difficulties, Ghoulish Gorkon Live! is going off-air,” he said quietly. “We apologise for any inconvenience.”
With that, the picture cut to a technical error image, which was ultimately replaced by advertisements.
The next day, the little-known Spirituality Channel suddenly found itself much more famous, being as it was pictured on every newspaper front cover and every television news report across the country, and beyond even.