My Dearest Cynthia,

My fondest hope is that this letter reaches you well and happy, as always. Surely you will want to know the results of our Group’s exploits in the matter of the fearsome Babylonian affair.

Directly after your departure back to Boston we conferred in earnest, and Reginald came up with the ‘smashing’ idea of posing as Hoboes to infiltrate the wooded homestead -- as Less had discovered some of those same wanderers had been abruptly run off from the property a number of days before. And naturally while in general agreement with the plan, actually fulfilling this requirement meant a certain rather degrading down-step in my normal choice of garmentry.

Less and Reginald chose to dirty up some of Less’ old safari gear, while Mordechai and myself found some less miserably damaged clothing among those discarded by his beloved dead. My apologies if I offend you with this information, my Dear, for this was the most revolting situation, and cannot be claimed otherwise. I will spare you the exact description of the condition of these garments, but suffice to say they were ‘clean’ and not overly infested with anything -- regardless they were ill-fitting and uncomfortable, and to say the least, they itched madly.

In order to locate the meadow where these transient fellows that Less had met up with, we deposited ourselves with the aid of my carriage, just outside the limit of the woods west of here, and shortly began our dull walk. As if we were approaching the city from the west, then, we four miserable and financially deprived ‘hoboes’ arrived into the woods. It was only shortly in the late afternoon when we did locate this meadow, a pleasant place in theory.

However the fact of the matter was that this meadow -- while visually pretty enough -- was reached as the darker of the weather was arriving as well. It began to drizzle as Less prepared a fire for us with his ‘bush man’ skills, and as the eve wore on, the rain fairly began pelting us. It was while we were waiting for the warmth of the fire to beging filling our hands and chilled faces with life, that Mordechai -- ever the intrepid soul -- went to seek out a tree, as he said, ‘to squat under’. While there were many jokes made around this campfire regarding that statement, I shall spare you their content, for they were not for ‘ladies’ ears. (I will, of course, reiterate them later on, if you request.)

With him gone, our fire and conversation drifted to things less morbid in nature. However, as Mordechai did not return shortly, we became agitated. It is his nature, I’m afraid, to wander on his own and cause himself to get into whatever trouble he must, he has in fact never quite learned the lesson that I and the others have: that leaving the safety of the group can be damning and dangerous. This instance he was gone for quite some time, as the sky darkened with both evening and the inclement weather. We worried until Less decided to track him down, with his considerable skill.

While they were both out, there seemed a certain amount of tension between myself and Reginald: it is possible that he and Mordechai trust me less than they ought, for the obvious reasons. I will return to those thoughts later in this communication, my Dear, not to worry. Also while they were both away from our small campsite, the rain most thoroughly dampened the fire, and until they returned, Reginald and I sat miserably wet and cold, below our improvised shelter (provided at my grudging reluctance by my own ‘choice’ of long coat).

Less arrived with a dirtied and shambling Mordechai, but as per his usual oddities, Mordechai was thrilled with something he had seen. The presence of a trail deep within the woods, and the added motion of a carriage passing swiftly upon that small trail had alerted him to the possibility that we were in fact on the proper course of action. Less naturally had already confirmed this trail’s existance, as well as the fact that far from coming upon this trail by actually looking for it, Mordechai as usual had located it after a particularly nasty fall and doubling, nay, octupling his trail upon itself. (You know how we doubt each other, we have all seen things that have turned out to be less real and more worried imagination or pure illusion -- you doubtless have also encountered these phenomenon on your trips.) Ever the logical follower of training and habit, Less found the trail to be as Mordechai had insisted, only in a shorter trail. Certainly it is better to have two people who have seen this trail before all of us leave the relative safety of the meadow and stumble headlong into the dark, wet forest.

We traversed half a mile of wood before arriving at this trail, which was narrow and suitable only for the bravest driver, this carriage that Mordechai described had a driver cloaked even in face, whipping his horses faster and the carriage itself had bars on the windows. We know those signs of danger, all of us, so we became wary. While we did travel along the path and that was to say the least slightly easier than trudging through the wooded grounds, it was during this clear march that Less and I chanced to hear the barking of a dog.

If you recall, many of the bodies that the city’s coroner had been found to be (please forgive my plain speech) disembowled by large canines. This set us further on edge, and regrettably myself the most. While it was not purest fear that led me to inform Mordechai and the others that I ought to utilize the new shape I have been given, I am certain that it had quite a lot to do with it. Of course I can also claim that with this alternate shape my senses become slightly sharper -- and the reflexes that ought to go along with them seemed more of a comfort to me than the social implications of the presence of my shape.

Perhaps had I known that this would lead to a strange reaction -- stranger than normal, my Dear -- from Mordechai and Reginald, I might not have attempted to shift. However, the dog had spoken and we may fear attack. So I immediately took a semi-cat shape while walking along, and Mordechai drew his weapon.

It is strange to me, suddenly, that surely if anyone else were to do so upon my person, I would take offence. I do not, of course, knowing Mordechai to be only protecting his life. I am certain that you know this fear, and with far more reason and depth than he ever could. I, again, will return to this facet later. Suffice to say, however, that Mordechai and his precious ‘sawed-off’ shotgun were pacing just behind me while I was altering my shape.

I say this with a hint of my normal pride, my Dear, for not only did I simply choose to do just that, I did not lose any of the desire to remain in control of myself while doing so. It does become difficult to speak or hold objects with that shape, but I assure you -- and have attempted to assure Mordechai as well -- that my mind is now intact while I adopt this form.

While we moved still through the trail among the wet trees, shortly we heard another sound, that of the carriage wheels and stamping horse hooves. I believe that even in these moments of hasty retreat from the trail’s open line, Mordechai dove into the brush nearest with his gun still trained on me, rather than awaiting the carriage to pass. I shall have to rebuke him for these things some day, perhaps when he has learned more about the nature of my new shape. We waited for the passing of the cart, saw that it was in fact as Mordechai had sworn: with the black carriage windows barred, and the frantic whipping of the poor beasts into their fastest gallop. I daresay that if we had not nearly dragged Reginald off the trail, he might have been run down by this mad driver!

Now we were within proximity of the terminus of the trail, and after a hasty conclusion that it was more likely there was something of interest at the end of this trail, than at the other end -- for we could very well have followed the carriage in its current direction than the other way -- we continued on in the direction we had been traveling. Less was as always in the forefront of our group, I was directly behind him, Mordechai (as has been mentioned before) had his gun trained on me from behind, and Reginald backed us up.

I feel that I cannot stress enough, that while any civilized man would have taken offence at the fact that this gun -- loaded by the way with equally deadly bullets as had been trained on me the evening before -- was still beaded on me and not on the trail surrounding us, I could not blame Mordechai for his fears and I still do not.

Less indicated that there was a curve to the road ahead, and at that time the other three of us came to a wet and uncomfortable halt. I was still waiting more sounds and had not yet heard them -- listening in the rain through hard breath for the dog which we had heard before. The others were barely able to keep silent regarding me, I fear, their stares and nervous fondling of their weaponry indicated that to me even at the time. But I held back from doing anything until Less had gone fully around the corner.

For it was at that time that several huge animals launched an attack upon us! Since the pair behind me were rapt with attention to me, they failed to notice two massive canines had come on to the trail from the nearby bushes. It seemed that there were enough to go around, as well, for the moment that they had been attacked, I was as well!

In order to assuage any fear that you may have for the safety of myself or the others -- and of course I vainly hope to hear that wonderful gasp of breath when you have discovered something of a shock to you regarding myself first, naturally -- you must understand that I and the others survived as per our usual ‘skin of our teeth’.

Since the other two had their weapons out already, they had an advantage over the animals which attacked them. It seemed that the first to be pounced upon was Mordechai, with a swift and heavy fall to the ground, he was below a Mastiff of proportions rarely seen outside of exotic situations. Reginald snapped off several expert shots at the head of the beast attacking him, and the animal never even came close to hitting him. After being bitten at least once, Mordechai and his precious gun blew the offending dog into several large meaty chunks from directly below it, what else could he do? Reginald attempted to shoot at that animal as well, and I believe hit it once, but it was clearly the point-blank blast of the shotgun in Mordechai’s hands that rid himself of the beast.

All of this was related to me somewhat later, for I already had things to worry about. Instinctively, as this third attacking dog was approaching my person, this cat inside me demanded attention, and forced me into a larger, more primative state. It did me little good, I am afraid to say, for not only did I never get in a single swipe of paw or crack of the new wonderfully electric whip in my possesion, I ruined the already ripped and uncomfortable clothing I was wearing, into shreds.

I am not certain that controlling this shape was going to do me the slightest bit of good, given this sudden attack. For while the others were taking care of the dogs upon them, this one single animal managed to take a gigantic bite from my midsection, and in that time my Dearest, I have never feared for my life with such fever. I regret to say that I could not even practically defend myself, this animal most likely had an idea that I was in fact a cat that in its dim mind was the finest prey it had ever seen. So this wretched canine continued to remove certain necessary parts of my internal anatomy -- forgive my directness -- and my last conscious thoughts were to perhaps begin repairing the damage if I could.

Recall, of course, and at the regretable memory of your capture by the fearsome and now thankfully deceased Dr. Renlow in Africa, that he was able to fight us without tiring and with the ability to recover from normal wounds until Less managed to put that copper bullet through his head... I apologize profusely for bringing these memories back up, but they provided me with the only hope that I stood of surviving this enounter.

With regret, I must tell you that I spent the entirety of the rest of this ‘adventure’ laying quite deathly upon the wet ground near the trail. The others removed the animal from me, and while I do not recall it precisely, I was apparently not long for the world.

The others related this tale to me later, after they had finished and after I was recovered.

Less had gone around the corner of the trail, to find a cabin and several large kennels. The kennels, he noticed, were open and empty. Of course, directly at this time, the other animals were attacking us. And naturally, they chose that moment to also attack him! He is an expert shot, my Dear, and though the others had but one single attacker, Less had to fend off two of the gigantic beasts! He kept his head, and fired off rounds at each animal as they charged him, and I must say that that sort of bravery is oft spoken of in quiet, reverent terms after the subject has been set into his grave. But he persevered, and though he too was grievously injured by one of the dogs, he managed to subdue both of them before they did much more.

However, during all this shooting and noise, the inhabitant of the cabin made his appearance in the doorway. He had what could be considered just short of an elephant gun on his person, and used it on Less without the slightest warning! If this man was ever to be considered ‘innocent before proven guilty’ my Dearest, he had just thrown that all away!

Less soon lay in a similar state to myself, now, upon the wet ground among the bodies of dogs. While it was possible that he might have been able to move slightly, Less was in no state to pursue the inhabitant of the cabin. To check up on our friend, Reginald and Mordechai soon found Less to be in his current state, and briefly they tended to both of us. Mordechai’s job was, I must say, more of a last-ditch effort to all appearances, he had told me later on that while he was able to collect the organs and such back into my body, and please forgive my graphic description, that body lay cold and more familiar to his other -- less friendly -- medical training. Reginald attended Less until it seemed that he was not going to fail his own life, and then bravely moved on the cabin, for it seemed that the attacker had not yet seen him.

Mordechai was with me for considerably longer, in fact Reginald was attacking the cabin single-handedly! Reginald took one shot from the massive gun, and though heavily injured he too stormed up to the cabin without fear! However, as he was firing on the man there with the gun, who was apparently reloading it while Reggie was approaching, the only move the man made was to slam the cabin’s door in Reginald’s face abruptly.

The gun was now trained on him through a hole in the door or window -- I’m afraid I am less than sure of some of these details as they were related to me later -- and did take one shot, but Reginald proved to me again that his grasp of the so-called ‘super’ natural is tight. He produced a bit of my favored substance, lightning, and shot it through the gun at its weilder! This proved near fatal for the cabin’s owner, as the shot that the gun did get off was not particularly aimed. By this time, Mordechai had finished packing and attempting to put everything back in its rightful spots, and it was then that he noticed that while I was still dreadfully cold with death, those organs he had been stuffing back into my body were now looking a little healthier than they had while upon the ground.

He decided to leave off helping me, and joined Reginald while he attempted to gain entry to the cabin. The door barred, the windows boarded over, this was no easy feat. Shortly, however, they pried off several of the boards and broke in through the window. Once inside, they located a lantern which Reginald held, and followed the trail of blood that indicated to both of them that their attacker was in fact still alive and on the move.

As one would expect, in such situations, and remembering that the heinous crimes of mutilation and torture were going on most likely in this spot, there was a trap door which they carefully entered. Still following the trail of life-blood, they discovered a long descending tunnel and stairs, down below the cabin and woods by at least one hundred feet! Imagine their trepidation as they followed unknown numbers of captives into the very lair of the beast!

My Dearest Cynthia, I dare not describe the cavern that they found to your sensitive eyes. They told me and I naturally investigated it later on, but even I could not believe my own eyes. For this place was as terrifying as any nightmare, and filled with poor souls who had been dragged by the coachman out of their own towns -- few had been citizens of Kingsport, if you recall. The sight that met Reginald and Mordechai was horrific. Bound by chains and in sorry states, is all I must say.

But their adventure had not yet come to an end! For the cabin man had not been seen since his disappearance earlier, and there were many places for him to hide within this gigantic cavern. A river provided the only respite from stone and steel, and the sad wailings and wimperings that surrounded Mordechai and Reggie surely set them on edge. There was, as expected, an altar to whatever foul Babylonian god this man had chosen to revive or revere, and it was to that altar that Mordechai and Reginald walked. Careful of those around them, and ever with their weapons raised, they moved through the room.

It was while investigating the altar that Mordechai noticed that one of the sorry captives still had their clothing on them, and it was this mistake that the cabin owner had made: though Mordechai had not even seen him personally, here was clearly the perpetrator of these crimes! Hanging by hand and not clipped into the chains, and fully dressed, these things were obviously not in keeping with the others in the area.

He still attempted to remain anonymous, and that would prove to be his undoing. For Mordechai swiftly drew his gun into the man’s nostril area (his words, not mine) and warned the criminal not to move. When he attempted to kick Mordechai, that same gun with its deadly bullets proved that any bullet when taken through the brain, will kill.

They investigated the altar and found certain books and scrolls which I have looked over, they are in languages not normally seen in this day and age, perhaps you might be interested to see them, save the rather graphic images which show how to ‘properly’ torture victims to this feared god. Finally, they let loose the poor victims themselves, some of whom had to be tended to immediately for they had been awaiting only death while hanging in that cavern like slabs of beef.

While this was going on, apparently, I had been able to heal myself out there in the rainy woods. When I did awaken it was in my normal state -- save that I was dreadfully cold and soaked to the bone with rain, all of the clothing that I detested so much while I was forced to wear it had been ruined sufficently that I could no longer wear any of it at all... I have so far fended off any signs of sickness because of either the rains and cold upon my naked skin or the -- my apologies -- mud found surely in my intestinal areas due to their removal and subsequent re-packing.

Like yourself, my Dear, I have no wish to see these events again, nor in any greater detail than my imagination can devise, for I never saw any of those organs in a state other than while in the very grip of that dog! I feel both very lucky to be alive, and fearful that because I am -- you may yet have reason to fear me.

Please again accept my apologies for this turn of events, for you know that they are not my fault nor are they something I desire to come between us. They already drive a strangely hateful wedge between myself and my friends, whom I trust implicitly myself -- yet I know they cannot bring themselves to turn their backs on me with the fear that I may strike them. I have and will continue to assure them that I will do nothing of the sort, and of course you must expect the same insistance. Yours must be the more intimate insistance, as well, my Dearest, for it is certainly in my interest to keep you safe, happy and assured of my love.

I wish to remind you that while I had not been in control over this strange facet of my life, I am now and intend to train myself to be as in control of it as I would be of any other feature. I have been told by our friendly Shaman that I can expect to find help along the way, and I hope that because others are able to trust in my ability to learn to conquer and live with this ability that you will as well.

You have far more reason to detest me and fear me, Cynthia, and I have no illusions about that. If you do find that your fear outweighs your love for me, then so be it, but know that I cannot hate or even resent that feeling in you. I understand that you had to live -- albeit briefly -- with this feared nature while in Africa and the already-mentioned Dr. Renlow, but let me assure you that you already knew my intentions. My affection for you is pure, and I will abide by any decisions you make because of that and no other reason.

Finally, let me assure you that all of us are well and warm, now, as this letter goes to post. Please do not allow these frightening turns of events to sully our love, I believe that we can in fact be as close as we may -- given the other situation. I fear that I must not go into my feelings regarding that half of your situation, else my words may become too harsh to see print. Suffice to say, my love, that I adore you and wish nothing more than your happiness, and if that must come at my expense, so be it.

Yours Compassionately and Fully,

Istvan