Day Four-Sixty-Two: Peek-a-Boo

First line of defence, information. I didn't find any with the rats, and the news briefs are a bit too brief for my tastes. Time to look elsewhere - and that elsewhere was an abandoned tent on the edge of town.

With Ed in tow for backup (he's been a bit bored, babysitting the jurors) I decided to explore Doc's tent. Probably thanks to his hasty departure from the mountain, Doc and his ghoulish band left their ragged-ass home behind, with everything still inside. I figured it might be worth a quick check. At the very least it might tell me something about the Non.

I was, sadly, wrong. The tent was (we've since taken it down and shoved it into a shed) empty, save for a few mundane doctoring tools in a box. Scalpel, hammer, a lot of cloth bandages, some dirty gloves, and a few bottles of foul-smelling yellow liquid. Edmund believes they're antiseptic; I think they're piss. Neither of us wants to confirm our suspicions, so we dumped the contents in the Potos River and called it a day.

Yet the tent's emptiness was, in its own way, a bit telling. Aside from a rickety table, which I suspect was used for 'examining' patients, there was no furniture. Doc seemed to be using the Cedric-Driscol-Bernard Thing as a bed the last time I saw him, so I suspect he doesn't give two shits about the comfort of his minions. The same probably goes for Titan Blue, the massive elephant-which-almost-certainly-wasn't-an-elephant. I dunno, though, 'cause I never saw it unmasked.

(Speaking of which, there's been no sign of the big'un in the forests of Pubton. If it's still there, it's hiding really well.)

Of course, these Non fellas might not even need furniture. When they were attacking Pubton during the winter, the lot of them seemed quite content to sit on the shield protecting us and leech away at it as a giant, uncomfortable lump. I assume they're able to change shape, since I've seen Kierkegaard and the Omega Corps change, but… well… hell. I dunno. Maybe they're more like liquid normally, and thus can rest without having to sit down.

This is all conjecture, of course. I don't know what the hell I'm talkin' about. Maybe they're made of cake, and they feed off the fetid souls of three-year-old goats. Anything's possible.

As much as the lack of information depressed me, Ed pointed out one solid fact while we were searching that gave me some grim hope.

"'tis true we know naught, /

Of that I can'st lie;

But them we have fought.

We know they can die."

Yes. Yes, they certainly can. Thank the gods for it.

Tomorrow I do a thorough check of the walls with Evangelina and Harold. I hope they're up to the challenge of repulsing an attack… because the Non are coming. I just know they are.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard