Werewolf the Podcast: The Discovery of the Fairy Conspiracy. (Episode 196)

Werewolf the Podcast: The discovery of the Fairy conspiracy. (Episode 196)

The Werewolf and the Professor are made aware of what is happening in the Fae and the real world. Behind the scenes, a lot is going on. A lot of bad stuff is happening, and all links point to the Flower Fairy Faction. What Fairies can not be bad, can they? Are werewolves, ogres, and minotaurs walking the worlds, afraid of a bunch of flower fairies? How can that be? 

In this episode of Werewolf the Podcast: A Serial (Killer) Drama, we begin to see the light, and that light is small, green, and sparkly.

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Transcript

The walk back from the kill is one of false joy. How do I make this hunt a false joy? I remember how this used to make me feel. This was the thing that made me happy. I loved the hunt with my wolf soul. It might be the case that I have to catch you up with the thing that is my wolf soul. It has been a while and sometimes refreshing the memory is a requirement to continue the story in a sensical way.

Fenrir is a lot of centuries old. He is the soul of a wolf who lived in the Ural mountains. His pack and a pack of humans were combined to form a tribe of werewolves. This way, the two combined tribes could survive a particularly harsh winter in the mountains and carry on to be a huge power in the area for a long time. 

We have done some episodes on certain people who are part of the Werewolf Tribe, such as Putin and... No, not Trump, but Melana. That makes sense—Melana and not Trump.

The wolves had given their souls to the humans. The souls were immortal and able to choose their... hosts. 

It was all done, as we have already said in previous episodes, by magic and bollocks. The souls or Posits as we know them would be separate entities from the humans when they were not in werewolf or wolf form. A giant Wolf spirit wandering with their host.

The wolf souls were invisible to non-magical folk. They had no physical body and could do all the famously ghosty things like walk through solid objects without affecting them. 

The human and the soul were linked strongly, and the pair could become a werewolf or wolf when combined. Then, the soul would be taken into the human and cause the changes or something similar. 

The sacrifice of the wolves to lose their corporeal bodies was offset by the fact that they were now forever impossible to destroy except by powerful magic. They could also leave their host if they wished. They could move on and find a fresh host. If their human died, they wandered until they found the right fit. Leaving a lot of fucked up humans by the wayside. Imagine a giant Wolf soul that only you can see approach you and ask you to be its friend. Most people's minds are too fragile for that kind of shit. 

The human got the werewolf's powers, one of which was to stop ageing. They stopped at the age of the equivalent human years that the wolf had in wolf years. That was a confusing sentence, but I hope you understand it. This is why I have never seemed to get past my mid-forties. Fen must have been the equivalent in his own species years.

The most important thing I have really got from Fen is his experience and love. He is my best friend, my teacher and my guide. 

That was a quick reminder. I hope it was helpful.

I will now go back to the start of this episode. I was walking back from my kill. I had tracked and taken down a young woman who had been unlucky enough to become the subject of my hunt. She had been strong and fit, but not in any sense that she could have stopped me from taking her life and feasting on her flesh. 

I explained that I was walking back from this kill with false joy. I had tried to recapture an element of my past life. I had tried to feel what I used to feel from these hunts, and in the moment, it had been almost there, but... something new was in my brain. 

Oh, don't get me wrong, that moment of chase and kill was all-consuming. In the hunt, it is difficult to be distracted. Your mind can not wander. You cannot think of anything else. Nothing matters in life but the warm, sweet, scented body that you want. It runs a tantalising goal that you want and is your only want in that moment. Mundanity is not in the hunt. The mundanity of much of human life is not in the hunt.

The hunt is the foreplay and seduction before the kill. As with all seductions, it can be quick or slow. It changes with each hunt. The seduction of the hunt is often better than the outcome. 

The not knowing. The tease of the creature pursued. How that victim behaves is wildly different in all cases, which is somewhat of a turn-on. Oh, and please do not think that all these hunts are non-consensual. Of course, most are. Some of my hunts are consensual; in fact, if you have come into my realm of awareness and I want to hunt you, then I feel that you have consented in a way. If you did not want to be there, you would have followed a different path of fate. That's only my opinion, though. Which is much more worthy than your own, I am afraid. 

Then there is the kill; I have recently considered if these kills are murder, but murder is killing someone without good reason. I always have a good reason to kill. 

Often to feed, In my wolf form and werewolf form, the consumption of human flesh seems to be acceptable. In fact, even in my human form, I think of myself as something different than Homo sapiens. Am I Homo Lupus? This gives me the allowance to eat human? Even in human form, but I have only done so very rarely. It is much easier to eat the bloody fresh flesh when in my other forms. It is much more rewarding.

The kills vary in their manner. Long and tortured to short and sweet and everything in between. I often want to break the will of a person before killing them. I want them to turn their back on hope and welcome despair. It makes the hairs rise on the nape of my neck when I think of all those times a will has broken with my special help. 

The human race has invented hope. It was a nice thing to invent. You don't even have to try to do something about the situation that you find yourself in. You do nothing to help yourself, but you can still hope it is going to be alright. This is so stupid to me. I do not understand hope. I think you have to try to solve your issues. Not hope that it just works out for you. It is fucking stupid if you think about it. 

The chase down seduction. The breaking of the will and the kill are the patterns I love in the pursuit. It brings me joy... That is a lie. It used to bring me joy. 

Don't get me wrong, in the moment tonight, I enjoyed the processes outlined above, but instead of walking back to the car in a somewhat blood-induced drunken haze, I walk back in a quandary. I am questioning things that I would never have done before. Who was the girl? What was her role in life? What will her family and loved ones feel at her loss? Was it okay to...

No, I can not think like this. Fen walks next to me. He reads my thoughts, and I can feel his irritation at this new path I seem to have taken.

'They are your prey, Wil, nothing more, nothing less. They die so that you can live. It is the way it is and the way that it has always been. Did the girl worry about the mother of the calf she ate at dinner?' He asks.

I nod at this. It makes sense, but then my brain picks holes in his argument. Questions of levels of consciousness. Is the mother Cow capable of the feelings that a human is? Is it okay to kill the calf and hurt the mother of it?

What the fuck. I am possibly going to end up being the first vegan werewolf in history if I continue on this path of nonsense.

'You are right. You are on a path of nonsense, Wil. You need to understand that there is a pecking order in nature and that you are an apex predator, and that means that all fall to your wants and needs. That is why they are there, to serve your needs. Whatever that may be. Revel in it. Revel in the fact that you are who you are. The lowly creatures admire you for it. They wish they were like you. They wish that they were you. Accept your place once more. The fox does not consider the life of the rabbit. The eagle the leverets that taking the hare leaves behind to starve. You need to relearn your status in this world. Human considerations have polluted your thoughts. You are not human. Humans fear what you are. They would destroy you without thought. So have no thought for them.' He told me, roiling in anger. 

Was I being pathetic? Had I taken on the role of a human with a human's considerations? Who knows. I needed to do something about this, though. I really did. My life was not the fun-filled, fearless escapade of the past. It was a... new reality where I questioned my existence and whether I had a place in it all. I... suffered. I suffered life now. Things had to change, but was it possible to regain the mentality I once had? I had lost my predatory innocence—an innocence where I did not question what I did. I was just doing what I did. 

Fen laughed at my thoughts. 

'The only good human being is a dead one.' He said.

'George Orwell said that, and he should know. Although he probably never got to meet some of the dead humans we have. Those were not good at all.'

As always, he had found something to make me smile and distract me from this unwanted and unwarranted train of thought. 

As we got closer to my car, we saw a strange green glow inside. We both paused for a moment and considered this. We came to the same conclusion at the same time.

'Ah, fuck fairy fucking Foxglove.' We both said at the same time.

The Professor

I had been diving into my admin duties for a couple of hours now. I had found that Ben Johnson, one of my fellows in the police, was doing well after his horrific crash. A crash that Wil was implicit in. Ben was cracking jokes in his email. They were awful, and I loved them. They told me he was in a good place. 

Soula had been investigating a coven in Kent that sounds like the title of a novel. She had been trying to get to grasps with Nabd, an ancient goddess that had arisen again in the area. She, as always, had completed this task with great efficiency and tact. Nabd was... well... no more Nabd. That was what I read. Her full report would be interesting. How had she banished her? A debriefing was required. 

They were my priorities. 

Next, there were a number of requests for my consideration of dangerous paranormal phenomena. I could tell reading the first that it was a fake just by the description. It was a human con game. A pseudo-cult had been set up by a fake messiah who was busily absorbing his follower's wealth and sleeping with as many of them as he could. Humans were humans and always into the con if possible. 

With my experience, I could tell this straight away. It smelled of conman. I could even give the Chester police the books the new messiah had read and put into action. It was an old story. 99% of the things I dealt with were human-created bullshit. Although, you could consider a great part of the paranormal world created by humans. Their imagination, faith and belief were a power source for the supernatural.

I mused on this thought as I sipped at my bitter morning coffee. The beans had been stale when ground—a downside of spending so much time away from home. Whisky does not go stale, but even I could not excuse myself having a whisky at 7.00 am. Drinking at this time... Well, it just wasn't cricket.

This stale coffee was a waste of the beans that I loved. My thought went to a time in Jamaica. I think it was erm... 1726. I had introduced the populace to Coffee. The mountains there were perfect for their growth, and they had none of the diseases or creatures that preyed upon the plants back in their native lands. They thrived and produced the most perfect crop.

The Blue Mountain Arabica bean was now recognised as the best coffee bean in the world. This one part of my history had made me a personal fortune. 

I pushed the coffee cup to one side. 'Life was too short for cheap wine and bad coffee.' A personal joke there, being immortal and all. This quote has been misattributed to many folks. It is mine. It's a personal joke, as I say. 

Then I opened an email at random in my over-full inbox. It was a strange email. It was from the Inspector there in Lincoln. A young girl of six had been found in Scampton, a small town outside Lincoln. She had been missing from home for some six months. 

She told the police the story of being taken by... fairies and held in a huge building with many other children. She was emaciated and showed signs of long-term restraint. A psychiatrist has diagnosed her as Pschytzophrenic and also suffering from psychosis as a result of her kidnap. It was thought by the medical world that the child had invented the stories that she told as a reaction to what really happened to her. 

The Inspector who knew me and my work thought something was wrong here. Having spoken to the girl, he decided that the story that she told was too good. That it never changed. That the details that she remembered were too precise. So he contacted me.

The subject line was. She believes in fairies, and she made me believe in fairies. It's a nice touch to grab my interest. I read the email.

Dear Simon. I hope you are well, and I am glad you enjoyed the Talisker Skye Malt I sent you. It is one of my personal favourites.

As uncomfortable as I am with your world, this seems to be your thing. An untypically high number of children have gone missing in Lincolnshire and surrounding areas. We thought that there might be a people trafficking ring or some grooming group taking them, but all efforts have not produced any evidence, which is very strange.

Here is the most recent incident that has happened as a report for you 

POLICE REPORT

Lincolnshire Police Department

Officer: Inspector Roy Wisher

Case Number: 2023/0047/SP

Date: [20/01/2025]

Location: Georges Park, Lincolnshire

Incident Details:

At approximately 10.00 am, a six-year-old girl (identity withheld for safety) was found in a highly distressed state near the entrance of Georges Park, Lincolnshire. The child was recovered by a local resident who immediately contacted the authorities due to the child's erratic behaviour and extreme distress.

Upon questioning, the girl reported that two six-inch-high green-skinned female fairies had taken her hostage. The alleged incident occurred within the park, where the child claimed a strange glowing light suddenly surrounded her before finding herself in an unfamiliar location.

According to her statement, she was transported to what she described as a "huge warehouse" filled with a large number of other young children, all restrained in chairs.

The children were allegedly subjected to a repetitive viewing of various Peter Pan films while being forced to chant, "We believe in fairies." Failure to comply, falling asleep, or ceasing to recite the phrase resulted in punishment administered by the small, green-winged women, whom the child identified as fairies. She would not repeat what the punishment was, but it seemed to bring a trauma response in the child at the thought of it.

The child exhibited genuine terror when recounting these details and persistently requested to see her mother. Due to the depth of detail provided and the consistency of her responses, I do not believe this to be a fabricated or imagined story.

Upon reviewing the case and the nature of the child's claims, I am contacting Professor Simon de Montfort, a well-regarded expert in supernatural entities and head of the Supernatural Police Department. Professor de Montfort will be briefed on the situation and hopefully can provide insight into potential explanations and further investigation methods.

Preliminary Findings & Actions Taken:

• The child has been safely reunited with her family under police supervision.
• No evidence of abduction via conventional means has been found in the immediate vicinity.
• A review of missing persons cases in the area is currently underway to verify the claim regarding the other children.
• A large number of young people under the age of six have gone missing in the locality. There has been no evidence that the children have been taken in the conventional sense of kidnapping.
• Further investigation of any abandoned warehouses within a 10-mile radius of Georges Park has been requested.
• Awaiting consultation from Professor de Montfort for guidance on potential supernatural elements involved.

Inspector's Notes:

While the nature of the girl's story is unconventional, her genuine distress and the specificity of her testimony warrant a serious investigation. Given my previous experience and knowledge of Professor de Montfort's work, I believe that a supernatural element should not be immediately dismissed. I await further advice before proceeding with any additional public disclosures or investigative measures.

End of Report.

Signed:

Inspector Roy Wisher

Lincolnshire Police Department

The girl told a story of being taken from her mother while walking through a Lincoln park. The mother was an ex-drug addict and on the social services radar. The child had said that she met two fairies in the park. The local constabulary thought that that park was St George's field in Lincoln. The fairies then took her away to a place where she was held in a chair and told her never to stop saying. "I believe in Fairies' The child apparently was still constantly repeating this under her breath even now. 

The Inspector has also shown that the number of children that have gone missing in Lincoln and around the locality is at an all-time high. 

Hmmm! I opened another email that seemed related. An officer of the SPD in Faeton mentioned the rise in the use of Fairy dust in the Fae community. 

I searched my inbox now, and the keyword was Fairy. There were a lot of emails with Fairy in the title. Fairy's? Fairy's? Why were there so many mentions of Fairies?

'Ah, fuck, fairy fucking Foxglove.' I said out loud to the room.