Once upon a midnight dreary, while an elf pondered, weak and weary over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, she came across a story, a story left never more unresolved. And so while she nodded through its pages, all while close to napping over one too many servings of Dreamwine, she let her curiosity explore. How could such a foul deed remain unsolved? To remain a mystery through all and sundry, remaining totally unexplored? And so the maiden set down her glass and implored the wisdom of her texts once more. There must be some clue, some fragment of evidence collected in her vast library to answer this conundrum, the mystery of the Butcherman of Kislev.

And so on this fine Hallow’s Eve, this Twilight’s Tide of the Geheimnisnacht, we find ourselves in Kislev, a nation of ice and snow, many moons ago. Our tale starts as many of these stories do, in a space of celebration. The Winter Palace of house Bokha, built upon the crest of the hill of heroes the Gora Geroyev, seat of Tzarina Katarin Bokha’s power and on this annual occasion, home to the greatest ball in all Kislev.

The great Gospodar households travelled from far and wide to attend their queen’s celebration, lining up outside the palace in their horse or bear-drawn carriages or clouding the skies with their sleighs from whence they queued to pass under the palace’s immense wrought iron gates to be inspected for concealed weapons by the palace’s guards, knights hand-picked from the infamous winged lancer regiment the Gryphon Legion who now wore helmets carved in the shape of a snarling bear’s head to denote their status.

Having cleared this hurdle, the guests were invited to dismount and enter through the second set of gates surrounded by intricately carved columns to take them through to the true palace. The guests entered one by one to take in the resplendent sight of the true Winter Palace that stood within the structure the public saw. A chateau built solely from ice, whose towers and shards reached into the heavens and pierced the skies. The guests entered through its pallisade-like gates crafted from icycles each 4 metres in length and finally were taken into the ball itself. All the great royals were there including the Ice Queen herself, mingling with guests and dressed in a gorgeous ballgown covered by ermine and elements of bearskin all topped off by a furry imitation of her famous Crystal Cloak. Yet it was not the heads of the households or even the Queen herself who managed to draw the most focus that night, that honour (or perhaps lack thereof) belonged to Alexei Kovovitch.

Only a few years ago Kovovitch would have been this sort of event’s honoured guest, a war hero famed throughout the kingdom for his many military campaigns against the Northmen in which he lead his army from the front wearing his peaked helmet edged in gold that marked him as a boyarin. Yet as the years went by this reputation soured substantially, first when he was kicked out of the army for his alcoholism, secondly when the logging business he started upon leaving the army was found guilty of deforesting in sacred druidic territory along the borders of Ostland & Talabecland and finally, when his wife demanded a divorce following public accusations that he abused her during one of his drunken outbursts. This latter incident turned to even greater outrage all throughout the nation after his wife sought shelter with the noblewoman Anastasia Vilkova of Praag.

Now single, heavily intoxicated and with a reputation as dirty as mud, Alexei made his way through the Tzarina’s ball as if he owned the place, leering over noblewomen as he promised them riches if they left their husbands. The night culminated when he picked a fight with the Imperial ambassador, a military veteran named Kaspar von Velten, whose Empire Alexei claimed still existed only because it had been able to leech off the safety and security provided in return for Kislevite blood on the Northern frontiers. Kaspar snapped back, angry at this drunkard who dare malign his nation and even drew his pistol on the boyarin only for guards to finally intervene and have Kovovitch removed from the premises for his behaviour.

Chucked out into the snow and having lost his hat during the fight, Alexei wandered the backstreets of Kislev with a buck of vodka in hand at the dead of night. It was dark that night, as dark as it gets. He meandered along those dark streets for quite some time, completely unsure what way he was supposed to take to get home until finally, he came across a brothel. A sex worker approached him, eager to sell her wares for the right price, and he proceeded to solicit her services, spasmodically following her inside. Yet just as this was about to happen, he heard a sound from the alleyway behind him.

Kovovitch turned toward the darkened alley from whence he’d come. “Who’s there? … Come out. I am armed.” he said as he fumbled with his scabbard to remove his sword only for him to lose his grip and drop the blade on the ground.

• Angry React: Kovovitch leaned down to pick his blade up only for a hooded figure to emerge from the shadows and slice his dagger through the boyarin’s throat. Alexei Kovovitch clutched his throat before falling to his death as the prostitutes screamed in terror and ran into their brothel for protection. However, the slasher followed suite, using his knife to pick the door’s locks before massacring everyone inside the brothel. Finally, the Butcherman of Kislev abandoned this place upon the stroke of midnight, having cut out their hearts and nibbled on the dead hustlers’ bosoms.

Had the Butcherman planned to kill Alexei Kovovitch this night or was he simply in the serial killer’s way? Will we ever know the Butcherman’s identity? For now this remains a mystery, perhaps to be solved on another occasion….

….

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Kovovitch leaned down to pick his blade up when suddenly a hooded figure emerged from the shadows and wacked him around the head, knocking him out. The hooded figure grabbed him the boyarin by the legs and dragged him through the snow of the streets, staying to the shadows and keeping an eye out for witnesses.

When he next woke up, Alexei found himself strapped to a large table, with his feet tied to the end and his hands bound to his side by leather straps. He gazed at his surroundings, a dingy cellar of some sort with moss creeping up its walls, a cow’s hide descending like a tapestry to his left, blood smeared along its floors and all manner of knives, saws and hooks hanging from the ceiling. The room seemed to have no exits and was barely lit, illuminated only by a single candle on a side-table near his head and a burning torch attached to a wall, flickering as it snapped in two. However, just as it did so he suddenly saw a slight shape move in the darkness, his abductor was here!

“Who…who are you?” Alexei asked pleadingly, as his hands pulled at their straps.“Don’t bother with them. There’s no escaping from here.” The masked man responded.

• Love React: The Butcherman kept his hood on and approached the captive noble with a hacksaw in hand, ready to enact whatever horrible plan he had in store. However, just as his torment was about to start a great swell of relief fell over Alexei as they both heard the sound of cavalry galloping and dismounting outside for despite the killer’s intentions, he had been seen dragging his captive’s unconscious body after all by a family who promptly reported the strange occurrence to the Chekist, the Tzarina’s police force. Captain Mathias Corber, a former brigand given a chance at a better life as a member of the Chekist arrived outside the building outside and together with 5 other chekists smashed through its doors. Sensing the cellar would soon be found, the Butcherman slunk into the shadows, proclaiming his and Alexei’s paths would cross again some day.

The chekists found the entrance to the cellar and came downstairs, revealing to the prisoner that the cow’s hide had been covering the entrance all along, to free Kovovitch from his bonds. He was taken to see a doctor, both for his intoxicated state and in case the Butcherman had poisoned him in his sleep, fortunately he had not. What followed was a long investigation of the premises and its neighbours but despite a lengthy review, no clues were ever found as to the killer’s identity.

The Butcherman of Kislev remained at large and within a few weeks began killing again once a new lair had been established. Will we ever know his identity?

….

• Laugh React: The serial killer removed his hood and cloak, revealing a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and clothing made from a combination of twigs and leaves, marking him as perhaps some kind of hermit. Alexei’s first fear upon seeing this man’s rural garb was how far away he may have been taken while unconscious, could this be some hovel carved out in one of Kislev’s many forests perhaps?

“Where have you taken me?”

“Fear not…you are only a few streets away from where I found you. I…I no longer have a home to take you to.”

“My name is Alexei Kovovitch, I am an honoured friend of the Queen herself. Release me and I shall make it worth your ransom. I mean you no harm.”

“I know who you are…you’re the man who took my home from me, the man who has already taken everything I ever loved. I have been watching you, for a long time now…. preparing for this day.”

“Why??? What could I have done to you to warrant such obsession?”And then, without the hermit even saying another word, it all clicked for Kovovitch. This must be to do with his logging business and based on his clothes alone, this hermit must have been one of the druids he displaced.

Rather than seeking to question any longer Alexei turned to begging, pleading for his life as tears ran down his eyes while he made all sorts of outlandish promises, even claiming he would pay to have a whole new forest planted if the hermit gave him a chance. But the druid was having none of it and proceeded to cast a spell, leading to Alexei pleading even harder as the spell took effect and the hermit’s body began to change. His body began to grow and his bones split asunder as two immense wings emerged from his back and pressed against the ceiling of this cellar, his eyes turned red and his hair grew into a long mane, his hands and legs gave way and turned instead into the paws of a large cat-like creature and a long tail barbed with quills sprouted from his backside, conclusively marking his transformation into a fearsome manticore.

Still unable to pull away from his restraints, Alexei pleaded one last time only for this to fall on truly deaf ears before the feral beast, as the manticore leapt up onto the table and proceeded to thrash at his torso with its paws, claw out his eyes, melt his flesh with its breath and even pluck his heart from his chest with its fangs. At last the hermit, known to only few as Adric Greenwood, had his revenge.

….

• Sad React: Alexei’s captor stepped forward and removed his hood and cloak, revealing the chainmail cuirass of a soldier in the Kislevite army.

“What? Is this some sort of joke? Do you have any idea who I am?!” Alexei barked angrily.

“Sure, I know who you are. I’ve seen you in the papers.” The soldier responded as he walked over to a bench and proceeded to flick through some blades.

“Then you will know how much trouble you’re in private! I’ll have you court-marshalled for this!”

“I don’t think you understand. This is real.” The killer said as he finally selected a weapon from his rack, a butcher’s cleaver.

“What? Who are you? Who the f*** are you?” Alexei yelled getting more and more frustrated.

“My name is Grigori, Grigori Medvezhiy, and for all my life I have served at the call of dogs like you.”

“How dare you?! I will not be spoken to like this!”

“You are the wife-beater, Alexei Kovovitch, no?”

“That was never proven! Now get on and release me before this gets any worse for you!”

The soldier said nothing and merely approached the strapped-down prisoner, still holding the cleaver in his hands.

“You know, you should know better than to trust everything that’s said in public. Half those parasites have been after my wealth for years now. I mean…what evidence have you got?” Alexei continued.

The killer continued to say nothing as he positioned himself to Alexei’s left and began to hover his cleaver over the boyarin’s arm, clearly trying to find the right spot for a clean, single-strike, removal.

“Wait! Okay, I confess. I beat her, many times in fact…and do you know what? She deserved it. Arrest me.”

Grigori turned his head for a moment, conflicted over this sudden admission yet still holding his cleaver over Alexei’s arm.

“What? Arrest me! I did it, I said I did it! You’re a soldier it’s not beyond your powers to do that. Just say I was behaving disorderly; I’ll even keep quiet about your f***ed up double life! The Butcherman began heaving, breathing quickly and deeply as he moved his blade over to Alexei’s head.

“No! By Ursun, don’t do that! Look, I have a problem. Take me in, I need help.”

Grigori raised his cleaver for his blow.

“No stop! Take me in! NO! NO!”

The Butcherman’s arm came down and he hacked his cleaver through Alexei’s head, before removing it and proceeding to hack through the scalp again and again. The tremors of impact shook his arm and as warm blood splashed his face, whatever was left of Grigori Medvezhiy died that night with Alexei Kovovitch’s mangled scalp. From then on there was only the Butcherman of Kislev.….

• Wow React: The serial killer removed his hood yet kept his cloak and gloves on, revealing a familiar face.

“You? You’re the serial killer?” Alexei stated in horror-filled astonishment.

“Yes, it is I, Kaspar von Velten, your humble Imperial diplomat, at your service.” The Butcherman bowed mockingly, clearly deriding his day-job’s antics.

“It’s funny, despite our little engagement earlier this evening, I hadn’t planned to see you again today….you just happened to get in the way.”

“Where? Where are we?” Alexei pondered out loud.

“Where do you think? As if I would take you anywhere else than my humble place of work.” Kaspar smiled.

“The Imperial Embassy? But how did you get me in here, surely someone would have seen you?”

“The guards outside you mean? Oh, do come on.” Can’t you guess?”

Alexei Kovovitch’s gaze turned toward the cowhide and thought for a moment “Secret tunnel?”

Kaspar looked up and twirled a finger to indicate toward their surroundings. “I was working here back when they built this place … kept firing the architect and builders so no-one knew quite how it all fitted together. I can slip in and out whenever I like … you know … when I get the urge. But tell me, why are you here? It’s rather unlikely that our paths would cross twice this night. And it’s not like you noble-types aren’t aware of the scary killer clad in a black hood who stalks these streets at night … It’s like you walked into my den and laid down in front of me. Why?”

“You know why I’m here.” Alexei responded cryptically.

“Well, I would like to hear you say it.” Kaspar smiled briefly, “Say it for me, please.”

“I…I…I.” Alexei took a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “I think I should be your next victim. I….” Alexei swallowed his words again “I want you to kill me.”

Kaspar merely smiled for a moment before proceeding in conversation “Well, in that case, before we start; tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I feel…scared.”

Von Velten scoffed quietly, “Be more specific, we only get to do this once.”

“I…I’m scared of dying.”

“But you asked for this though?”

“I have…reasons for it. I have made too many mistakes.”

“So you don’t actually want to die?”

“No.” Alexei responded matter of factly.

“Good.” Kaspar responded, still smiling. “Say that for me.”

Alexei frowned slightly before uttering the words “I don’t want to die.”

“Again.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to die.”

“One more time, just for luck, aye?”

Now tearful, Alexei pleaded “I don’t want…I don’t…I don’t want to die.”

“Lovely.” Kaspar von Velten responded sternly. “Here we go.”

“Wait, before I go. Please, I need to know. Why do you do this?” Alexei asked.

“Why do I kill? Kaspar clenched his hands together, away from the knife he was about to reach for and instead began to rub his fingers. “It’s not about hatred, or revenge even. Believe it or not I don’t think of myself as much of a dark person….but well, you have served in the field, you know the thrill that courses through your veins when you dispatch with a heretic and…” Von Velten let out a long, almost orgasmic sigh of relief, “Killing human beings… it just makes me so incredibly happy. I could never let that go.” He said before lowering his head and chuckling, almost silently before re-gaining his composure by placing the back of his hand against his mouth and straightening up once more.

“I would go on with this, but sadly for you, I am getting a little impatient.” Kaspar gripped the knife he had selected once more and hovered it over his Alexei’s chest. “Take a big final breath if you like.”

Alexei Kovovitch took in a big gulp of air as Kaspar’s arms came down on top of him, plunging the blade through the boyarin’s heart. Kaspar chose not to stab again, instead choosing to savour the taste of victory by allowing Alexei to bleed out slowly as he went on with his explanations

“You know, murdering people is a very difficult addiction to manage. You have to be careful, people don’t seem to realise the level of dedication that goes into it. But fortunately, if you’re rich or important or well-connected, it’s amazing what oversights people will ignore. There’s always some desperate whore about to go missing who no-one will remember and if they do, nobody ever wants to suspect murder if it’s is easier for them to suspect something else. I just have to ration myself, choose the right targets and with luck, you’ll be forgotten all the same. Now please, let me gaze into your eyes as you die. I want to see the moment when the light goes out, I like to watch that moment happen.”

In one final move of rebellion Alexei attempted to turn his head away from the diplomat turned serial killer but Kaspar simply gripped Kovovitch’s head between both his hands and turned it back toward him. “Maintain eye contact … maintain eye contact … here we go…”

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