Page 11 - Hunter - The Vigil

A parliament of monsters hides behind the curtain. They emerge,
Sometimes I am a collector of
Sometimes I am a collector of
data, and only a collector, and
data, and only a collector, and
am likely to be gross and
am likely to be gross and
miserly, piling up notes, pleased
miserly, piling up notes, pleased
with merely numerically adding
with merely numerically adding
to my stores. Other times I have
to my stores. Other times I have
joys, when unexpectedly coming
joys, when unexpectedly coming
upon an outrageous story that may
upon an outrageous story that may
not be altogether a lie, or upon
not be altogether a lie, or upon
a macabre little thing that may
a macabre little thing that may
make some reviewer of my more or
make some reviewer of my more or
less good works mad. But always
less good works mad. But always
there is present a feeling of
there is present a feeling of
unexplained relations of events
unexplained relations of events
that I note, and it is this
that I note, and it is this
faraway,haunting, or often
faraway,haunting, or often
taunting awareness, or suspicion,
taunting awareness, or suspicion,
that keeps me piling on.
that keeps me piling on.
— Charles Fort, Talents
— Charles Fort, Talents
sometimes, past the red velvet. They move in shadows among the hu-
man herd, and they reach out and pluck the unsuspecting into their
grip. Humans can be livestock to the hungry, lovers to the lustful, toys
to the wicked. All the horror stories talk of it: vampires fi lling their
mouths with our blood, lycanthropes harrying mortal prey through
dark forests, demons convincing a man to hand over his soul in a
gift-wrapped bundle. But they aren’t just stories, are they? No, the
horrors are real, hiding within a labyrinth of mystery.
Hunter: The Vigil is a game about those humans who have come,
by some means, to recognize the truth that monsters exist. These indi-
viduals cannot sit idly by. They must study their foes. They must de-
stroy them or steal their power. They must use them as pawns against
one another. It’s not an easy thing, the endless hunt, the ceaseless
Vigil. It is a thing of brutality and obsession, a slope slippery with the
blood of those who came and fell before, a slope that descends into
nightmare. And yet they can do no differently, because the Vigil
drives them. They sacrifice. They push forward. They hunt.
A Game of
Light in Shadows
Hunters are light and fire. Sure, this can mean a torch pressed against
the undead flesh of a fiendish adversary, or a roaring conflagration
that consumes all the screeching parasites trapped in the nest. It
can also mean a candle held aloft for lost friends and family, or an
oil lamp poised over a fraying piece of parchment or gilded medal-
lion plucked from the heart chambers of some desiccated mummy.
Hunters carry the Vigil, representing action and knowledge, and ide-
ally the one-two punch that both provide together. But the pairing of
those elements is neither safe nor sane, and hunters risk everything
when on the hunt.
But the protagonists in this book carry the Vigil because they can
do nothing else: they have seen what exists. They have experienced the
horror or the mystery and it compels them on this path. Some see the
only solution as a violent one, to burn it all down. Others approach
the Vigil differently, capturing the monsters on video and hoping to
expose them, or plundering the world of ancient mystical weapons with
which to defend innocent humanity.
At the barest level, hunters exist in ignorant, ragtag cells —
friends, family, or those driven together by maddening circumstances.
They protect their stretch of forest, their city block, their network of
women’s shelters. They don’t know the depth of what’s out there; they
only have the meager light of their own candles to light the way.
Candles give way to torches, to cells that band together in local-
ized organizations. They pool resources. They provide moral support.
They present a more unifi ed front against the denizens of darkness.
And torches give way to raging bonfires as those organizations
grow outward globally and backward through time. Ancient groups
and modern agencies supply their hunters with potent weapons,
some of which are so strange that those who use them can only
wonder how long they can truly maintain their own humanity.
But even coming together to form an inferno or fi restorm, hunters
can’t help but notice how deep and long those shadows are, and how nu-
merous. Worse, fire is temporary: candles burn down to the wicks, a torch
snuffs in a cold wind, a bonfire has soon consumed all it can and grows
dark. Hunters know that they, too, are temporary, whereas the shadows