# Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)



## talien

Welcome to an experiment that turned out to be a lot longer than any of us any anticipated. This story hour takes place in Arcanis. If you're not familiar with Arcanis, check out Onara Online and LIVING ARCANIS Home Page to get an idea of how the world works. Hint: it involves lizard people, flintlocks, and Romans. 

Our game, which started as just a handful of people, has expanded to encompass friends and relatives across three states (NY, ME, CT). The cast varies depending on where and when we play. You can read more about my experiences with role-playing in my National RPG column for the Examiner.

Most of the adventures are either from Living Arcanis modules, Cthulhu adventures, or Freeport adventures. We generally stay true to the material, but NPCs get switched out often, sometimes with PCs. Speaking of which, we don't usually include PCs whose players aren't present, unless it's to act as part of the plot (thus, Quintus and Kham have both been convenient plot devices when their players weren't present). That said, all of these adventures contain spoilers, so if you plan to play in Arcanis or Freeport, you might want to stop reading once you recognize the name of the adventure.

The story hour is now completely written, but I'm still posting installments of the full 66 chapters, one a day. It's recommended you start at the beginning (that'd be uh, here), which will ease you into the universe. If you want to be reminded of updates, I post a copy to my blog at michael.tresca.net, which in turn sends an email every night to my subscriber list.

The cast includes elements of the typical "five-man band" consisting of the Hero (Quintus), the Lancer (Kham), the Smart Guy (Sebastian), the Big Guy (Beldin, Calactyte, or Vlad), and the Chick (Ilmare or Bijoux). We also have the Sacrificial Lamb (Holden) and the Sixth Ranger (Nauris).

*Beldin Soulforge* (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia: A typical axe-wielding dwarf. Beldin tends to focus on defense, befitting his prestige class of dwarven defender.
*Bijoux *(fihali druid) played by Melissa Tresca: A flying cat girl. You heard me, FLYING. CAT. GIRL. Only with fangs and wings.
*Calactyte *(ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca (eyeballistic.com): A member of the noble lizardfolk race, Calactyte's unstoppable battle rage often ends in a foe-tossing charge, swinging his huge axe and screaming, "MOMMA'S COMING!" 
*Ilmarė Galen* (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca: An emotionless elven bard. Her favorite weapons are the bow and the power of snark. 
*Kham Val’Abebi* (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com): A trenchcoat-wearing Byronic Hero. Frequently wields two or more of his throw away guns, such that he has been known to name them. Kham's burgeoning psychic powers inlucde precognition, bio-psychokinesis and later, teleportation. And how do you know Kham's using his psychic powers?  His eyes glow. Of course.
*Sebastian Arnyal* (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster: A noble demon who is also a wizard. His deal with the devil (or more practically, his deal with his heritage) is a major plot point. 
*Vlad Martell* (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer: Just your typical fighter, really, who ends up with a lot more responsibility than he bargained for. His primary claim to fame is his really cool sword, which gets cooler (or hotter, actually) as the story progresses.
*Holden Ash’ur* (human ranger/wizard) played by Robert Taylor (Storyboardz.net): Holden knows his way around a rifle, can cast spells, and throw grenades.  He's a useful guy to have around.  Which of course means he's doomed...
*Quintus Aurelius Ignatius* (human cleric) played by Michael Tresca (michael.tresca.net): Quintus is a loud-mouthed authoritarian, combining the worst elements of strict military duty and fealty with religious fanaticism and an overbearing sense of morals. His weapon of choice is a spear.
*Nauris Drilian* (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best: A loner who also happens to be a stone cold sniper who hunts "those damn dirty snakes."

For more information about the campaign, see the Gonnes, Sons and Treasure Runs Home Page.

==========


This story hour is a home game from the tournament module, "So Shall Ye Reap," written by Henry Lopez, set in the Arcanis setting.  Our cast of characters includes:


Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr1), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): michael.tresca.net 
Kham Val'Abebi (val Rog1), played by Jeremy Ortiz: Jeremy Robert Ortiz 
Ilmare Galen (elf Brd1), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
Vlad Martell (human Ftr1), played by Matt Hammer.

(Clarifying Note: Quintus does not normally use his first name with folks he doesn't know that well.  That changes after the first adventure).

Our DM is the inimitable Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: Storyboardz.net 

This is an interesting exercise in documenting what happened before as well as flexing my writing muscles so I can take a break from my novel. 

What transpires below is very close to how the game took place, which does not strictly follow the adventure path. A lot of dialogue has been added as the characters were fleshed out later to help tie the plot together more tightly and extrapolate on each character's background. 

I hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed playing it!


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap: Prologue*

"They pass that law, and we're out of business."

Kham thrust one hand through his shock of black curls.  The idiot next to him was getting drunker by the minute and spewing information like a fountain.  A fountain of beer.

"You mentioned smuggling," Kham repeated, slow enough for even the extremely inebriated to understand.  "So?"

Kham's drinking companion's face, an explosion of stubble, jowls of flesh, and scars, crinkled up in confusion.  "We're in the same boat, mate.  I know what you do."

Kham fingered the green brooch at his neck. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Right," the fellow said.  Kham didn't even know his name.  "You're…fond of doing what needs to be done, and laws be damned, right?" He jabbed Kham in the ribs with an elbow. "Right?"

Kham nodded before he was bruised further.  "So if the Senate calls for the interdiction of any ships in Coryani waters of piracy or smuggling, we're all kicked, is that it?"

"Damn right," the drunk said, slurping loudly from his mug.  "It's plebs like that," he gestured at a man dressed in a finely tailored toga at the far corner of the tavern, "that ruin it for the rest."

Kham's eyes lit up.  He recognized the jeweled brooch on the man's cloak.  Kham adjusted his overcoat and slid off the stool. 

"You give him what for," muttered the drunk from the bar. Kham nodded over his shoulder but kept his eyes on the plebian.  He was talking intently to three other people at the table.

Kham could sniff out a mercenary recruitment drive from a mile away. He slid over to a seat nearer the four of them to get a better look.  

"I thank you for your quick response to my request," the white haired plebeian said.  "Rest assured, you will be well compensated in assisting my master for this small matter.  You each have been selected for your particular skills.  I trust you will not disappoint."

He nodded towards a large man, dressed in scale armor.  "Master Martell will be your guide.  He is a native Milandisian."  The Milandisian thrust out his chin a bit but otherwise said nothing.  

Kham thought there was nothing quite so pathetic as a Mliandisian down on his luck.  He must have been desperate to take on such work.

"Mistress Galen's vast knowledge will serve you well.  She has come very far from Entaris."

The female was undeniably Elorii.  She was also quite striking, with perfect posture and an icy gaze.  She was an Osalikene, descended from the wind god, as evidenced by her pointed ears and silver hair.

"If the child is still alive," she said in a monotone whisper, "we'll find him."

"Yes, we shall!" shouted the third man, with a dimpled chin, angular features, and a bearskin draped over his armor.  "I, Aurelius Ignatius, swear that the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior shall not fail!"

The speaker was Coryani, like the plebian.  Kham hated Coryani. He couldn't take it any longer.  
"Again?" Kham said.

"What?"

"I said, 'Again?'  An entire century of legionnaires were dispatched to find the boy.  They have not yet returned," he said defiantly from the nearby table.

Aurelius' mouth opened in surprise—for once, no sound came out of it.  His brows furrowed, but before he could come up with a retort, the plebian waved Kham over. 

"You must be Master Kham.  I was not sure if you were going to join us."

Kham stood up, smoothed his coat, and walked over to the table.  "Why didn't you tell them about the century, Decimus?"

Decimus stared at Kham for a long moment.  Then he turned back to Aurelius.  "Senator Tensen-Balin is a scrupulous man.  He's also General Menisis' uncle.  Master Ignatius is insurance that the glory of the legion will be retained, even in as secretive a task as this. To not send a member of the legion would be disgraceful."

Kham smirked.  "A signifer? The mighty Legion of the Reluctant Warrior sent their signifer? Why not a centurion?"

Decimus put a calming hand on Aurelius' shoulder as the legionnaire's face turned red.  "Because a centurion has already been sent.  It is my master's hope that a small group can do discreetly what a century could not."

"I didn't agree to him going along," said Aurelius, jabbing a thumb in Kham's direction.

"You weren't asked," Decimus said firmly.  "The Senator insists."

"Let's go," said the Elorii before Aurelius could protest.  "Every moment spent talking is more time for the Harvesters to get away with the Senator's son."

"Good. Here is a writ of passage," he handed a scroll to Aurelius. "A priest waits outside to shepherd you through."

Aurelius abruptly stood up and shrugged on a large shield over his back. The shield was emblazoned with the sign of a stylized warrior, shield held up and sword lowered.  He snapped up the symbol of his legion, a spear in the shape of an open hand.  Five medallions dangled from it.  

The Elorii shook her head and gracefully left the table.  That left the Milandisian.  He smiled at Kham and extended his hand.  "My name's Vlad, by the way."

Kham couldn't help but smile back.  He shook the larger man's hand and followed him out the door.  

Outside, the Elorii was keeping her distance from the Coryani, who stood with hands on hips, scowling at the surrounding terrain.

"So tell me Vlad," said Kham, keeping his eye on the legionnaire's back.  "How does a signifer get caught up in this mess?"

Vlad shrugged.  "Never met him before," he said in low tones. "But he is a bit…loud."

"He stumbled upon accounts documenting the missing century," said the Elorii, turning towards them.  "They had to send him along to shut him up."

"I didn't think you were in earshot," said Kham.

A sly smirk slipped across the Elorii's lips.  "I'm always in earshot," she said in the same monotone.  "My name is Ilmarė."

"Ilmarė," said Kham.  "Pretty name."

The Elorii turned away from him as a haggard-looking man approached them. A bracelet of thorns was wrapped around his left wrist.  Kham recognized him as a Priest of Anshar, the clergy dedicated to maintaining the teleportation gates that could move anyone from one side of Arcanis to the other.

"Wait," he said.  "We're going through a Gate? "

Aurelius turned around.  "Of course. How else did you think we were going to get to Milandir?"

Kham began patting himself down.  "It's just that I wasn't…"

"Prepared?"  Aurelius watched as Kham silently counted to himself.

"He's an Altharian," said Ilmarė.  "He's counting his ammunition."

Aurelius walked face to face with Kham.  "I will not have you endanger this mission with your foolish 'gifts'!" 

Kham counted to twenty.  "We'll be fine.  I don't have enough powder to cause any problems."

"Is there a problem?" said the priest.

"No!" Aurelius and Kham shouted at the same time. 

"Then follow me, please.  Time is of the essence."

Aurelius harrumphed and followed the priest with a swirl of his cloak. Vlad fell in step behind next to Kham.  "Why is Aurelius so angry?"

"Because he's insecure?" he responded.

"He's angry," Ilmarė said softly behind them, "because if too much powder goes through a gate, it explodes."

Kham smiled sheepishly back at Vlad as the man's eyes widened.  

"Powder for what?" Vlad said after a moment.

Kham shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.  "Altherian secret.  You'll find out soon enough."


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## ledded

A nice start, this SH looks to be _very_ interesting.  I look forward to seeing what you do with it.


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Part 1: Deception*

The stroll through Coryan was far too long for Aurelius' tastes.  The child was gods-knew-where and they were falling behind with every winding turn down yet another alley. If he was going to reveal their enemy's plans, he would have to do it soon.

"You there," he said in irritation.  "Guide.  Have you gotten lost?  Do you not know the way to the Gates?"

The haggard-looking man came to a sudden stop, causing Vlad to nearly bump into Aurelius.  

"No, not at all.  But I think we're being followed, so I took a longer route.  It's down this alleyway right here." He pointed to their right.  "Follow me please, it's not long now."

Kham leaned around Vlad to address Aurelius.  "Don't you live here?"

"It's a big city," Aurelius said through gritted teeth.  He kept his eyes focused on their guide. "Wait."

Aurelius stopped so abruptly that this time that Vlad did collide with him.  From the cursing that echoed behind the large man, Aurelius guessed that Kham got a face full of armor. 

"What's wrong?" Ilmarė asked, her voice tinged with concern.

The guide's gaze flickered over his shoulder at the others, but then he turned away.  Aurelius grabbed him by the arm.

"This is wrong." He lifted the guide's arm up, showing the thorny vine wrapped around his wrist.  "A Priest of Anshar should have scars from wearing a bracelet of thorns for so long."

Aurelius shoved the man backwards and unsheathed the gladius hanging from a holster at his right hip.  

"We have been deceived!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, which was only marginally louder than his normal speaking voice.

Three other men skulked out of the alleyway behind them, thumping clubs in open palms. They fanned out in a semicircle even as Ilmarė and Kham turned their backs to Vlad and Aurelius. 

The faux guide dusted himself off.  "Clever observation.  You seem smart enough to know better.  So I recommend you drop this foolishness and forget the mission.  It would be terrible," the guide sneered, "if yet another legionnaire were to mysteriously disappear."

There was the distinct sound of metal leaving sheathes as Ilmarė and Vlad produced longswords. 

Aurelius took a menacing step forward.  "You misunderstand.  I DO know this city.  I've been biding my time, waiting for the right moment to reveal your trap."

"Pardon?" Kham said as he reached into his coat.  "You thought this dark alleyway was the 'right moment' to reveal their trap?"

The thugs wasted no more words as one aimed high at Kham's head, the other for Ilmarė's knees.

Ilmarė lithely hopped over the clumsy swing and retaliated by slashing the arm of her assailant.  Kham ducked backwards as two clubs whistled over his head. 

"You really don't want to do this," Kham said.  

Kham nudged what looked like the head of a small dragon out from under the bottom of his coat.   He whistled and waved the barrel to get the thug's attention.  The thug looked at him quizzically, raising his club again.  

KA-BLAM!

There was a retort so loud that everyone, ally and enemy alike, reflexively stumbled away from the blast.  When the smoke cleared, the thug that Kham had aimed at was still standing. There was a great rent in the brick face of the building behind him.  Smoke trails pirouetted from the hole's center.

"A handgonne!" shouted the faux guide.  "Perhaps this will even the odds: Magicus telum!" 

A bolt of bright blue energy flashed between the guide's finger and his target.  Vlad gasped as the bolt, unhindered by his armor, penetrated flesh and bone. 

Aurelius stepped forward and pointed at the guide with his gladius.  "You dare to cross a legionnaire of the Reluctant Warrior?" His voice grew louder. "KNEEL BEFORE ILLIIR'S MIGHT!"

The command was undeniable. The guide's eyes bulged as his body stumbled like a rigid puppet, forcing him to his knees, his head bowed.  Sweat dripped from his nose as he struggled to resist.

"That's better," said Aurelius.  "Now you will tell us who sent-"

With a mighty roar, Vlad's longsword flashed across the kneeling man's throat.  His head bounced across the dirt of the alley and landed face up at Kham's feet.

Behind Vlad, Kham threw back his coat to reveal two dragon-like sculptures, one in each hand.  The handgonnes were carved to look like dragons, with their mouths ended in barrels.  Smoke poured out of the end of one of the left handgonne.  Kham pointed them both at the nearest thug's head.

"Now, Jessica here, she don't like you," Kham said, waving the left handgonne.  "But Victoria," he waved the other handgonne, "she likes you a lot. She's liable to give you a little lick."

The clatter of clubs resounded around them as the thugs put their hands up. 

"I'd run, unless you want to end up like your friend on the ground here," Kham said.

The men took off down the alleyway.  

"Well," Ilmarė said quietly, "that was gratuitous."

Kham looked around to confirm that all the thugs had left.  He blanched when his gaze connected with the head staring back at him from the alley. 

"Was that really necessary?" Aurelius said as he sheathed his gladius.  "I was trying to interrogate them but this," he gestured at Vlad, "Milandisian got a bit overzealous."

Vlad returned his longsword to its sheath on his back, unfazed.  "That magic he used hurt," was all he said, as if the pain alone was enough justification. "In Milandir, if someone strikes you, you strike back twice as hard."

"I'd say you proved your point," said Ilmarė, staring down at the head.

"In the legion, discipline is life," Aurelius said sternly.  "You must know when to strike, and when not to strike."

Kham rolled his eyes.  "Oh yeah, and I suppose you had them drag us around all of Coryan for the perfect time to strike?"

Aurelius met his gaze, glaring down at him.  Kham wasn't that tall.  "Yes, I did.  I was looking for a weakness in their strategy and it revealed itself just now."

"What weakness?" Kham said, pouring some powder back into the mouth of one of the dragon handgonnes. 

"There were at least another four men following us," Ilmarė said, "but we lost them only a few minutes before we turned down the alleyway."

"You too?"  Kham said in exasperation.  "Did anyone else not know this was a trap?" 

"I didn't," said Vlad.  "But then, I don't really trust any Coryani."

Aurelius stepped out of the alleyway to call over a citizen.  "By order of the Emperor, I command you to-"

"Oh we don't have time for this!" Kham finished loading his other handgonne and returned it to the holster beneath his armpit.  "There's a headless corpse in the alleyway, clean it up, would you?" 

The citizen nodded and scurried off to call for the watch.  

"We must hurry, the Gate is not far from here," said Aurelius.  He stood in the square, hands on his hips, surveying the area.

After a long moment, Ilmarė said, "if I remember correctly, it's in the southern quarter."

"That's right!" said Aurelius.  And with that he marched off southwards, splitting the crowded streets like a knife.

Kham looked at Vlad.  Vlad shrugged and walked after Aurelius.  Ilmarė winked at him and followed suit.

Kham took a deep sigh and ran after his fearless leader.


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Part 2: Through the Gates of Anshar*

The Temple of the Pantheon was a huge structure, part of the main temple of the Mother Church of Coryan. Besides acting as a means of transportation across Arcanis, it was also the residence of the Patriarch of the Mother Church along with hundreds of other clergymen, scholars, and scribes.

Aurelius exchanged a few words with the priestess at the gate, who ushered them through to the smallest chapel of the Temple.  Inside, 20 legionnaires, stood at attention.

"Friends of yours?" Kham asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Aurelius shook his head.  "The Legion of Grim Lamentation is no one's friend.  They guard the Gates with their lives.  These are two way gates, you know."

They passed the legionnaires to stand before the towering Gate of Anshar itself.  It was an archway of marble, inscribed with benedictions and supplications to Anshar in Altharin.  

Aurelius unrolled the scroll and showed it to the priestess, who nodded her assent.  Then she stepped back and began to chant a prayer, her hands caressing the side of marble gate like the sweet caresses of a lover.  With each pass of her hands, the inscriptions became infused with a bright light.  The chant grew louder and louder until suddenly, a glowing point in the center of the archway exploded into a shimmering wall of blue light.  A great wind kicked up, billowing cloaks and robes.

"Now you're sure you don't have too much powder?" shouted Aurelius.

Kham held his coat closer around him. "Yes!  I don't want to blow up either you know!"

"Good," Aurelius said with a smile.  "Then you can step through the gate first!"

"Why should I go first?" Kham pointed at Vlad.  "He's the native, shouldn't he go first?"

Vlad shrugged.  "If you're too scared, I can go first.  Besides, I don't want to be here when you explode-"

Kham pulled the collar of his overcoat closely around his neck.  "Fine, fine! I'm not afraid…"

Everyone waited expectantly while Kham walked towards the roaring gate, one hesitant step at a time. 

"Do not be concerned!" shouted the priestess.  "The passage is painless and instantaneous!"

"Unless you blow up," Ilmarė said with a smirk.

"Wait are you waiting for?" Aurelius said.  "Jump!"

Kham patted himself down.  "I just want to count one more time…"

"Oh for the love of Illiir, come on man!" Aurelius grabbed Kham by the arm and they both stumbled through the portal together.

Vlad looked at Ilmarė.  "Well, nothing blew up.  So I guess it's safe.  See you on the other side." Then he jumped through, disappearing into the blue wall.

"This day just gets better and better," Ilmarė said in her usual monotone. Then she too, hopped through the portal.


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Part 3: A Battle Lost?*

The passage through the portal was far from unpleasant.  In fact, it was quite euphoric.  The step was but a half-second even though the journey spanned hundreds of miles.  

Aurelius and Kham exited first, only to be shocked by a ferocious downpour. Aurelius nearly fell backward shielding his face from the unexpected precipitation.

Vlad and Ilmarė arrived seconds later.  The Milandisian seemed undeterred by the weather.

He shielded his eyes.  "Luchek is not far from here!" Vlad shouted over the rain. "This way!"

Vlad began the slippery descent down the trail.  They were surrounded by soggy scrub and worn hillside.  The water poured more aggressively downhill with each passing minute.  

Aurelius yelped as he lost his footing. He almost slid the rest of the way down the hill were it not for Ilmarė, who stopped his fall by grabbing his bearskin cloak. 

Aurelius struggled to his feet.  "Thanks," he muttered. "If you were wearing armor, you'd probably have the same problems."

"I am wearing armor," Ilmarė said with a smile. To prove her point, she rapped lightly against her chest.  "Osalian, Lord of the Storms, blesses his children.  I am Osalikene—I have nothing to fear of wind and rain."

"Well I do!" Kham was hunched over, his hands deep in his coat pockets.  "Less talking, more walking!"

Just then, something flashed in the direction of Luchek.  

Ilmarė skipped ahead and then slid down the slope past all three of the humans without the slightest misstep.  They huffed to catch up with her at the bottom of the hill.  

The Elorii had her bow knocked with an arrow as Vlad squinted into the distance.  "There's something in the marketplace.  It looks big.  And angry."

"A howler," said Ilmarė.  "It has killed many of your people and is about to kill four more."

Vlad needed no more encouragement.  He took off at a full sprint, unsheathing his sword and shield as he went. Aurelius shrugged off his tower shield from his back and removed three sections of his spear. 

Kham slid next to him.  "Got a plan?"

Aurelius screwed the bottom part of the spear into the center.  "You and Ilmarė shoot at it, I'll back up Vlad." 

Aurelius screwed in the top part of the spear into the middle.  Kham noticed the spearhead was in the shape of an open hand. 

"Great plan.  They teach you all that in legionnaire school?"

Aurelius hefted the shield.  "Just use your iron dragons.  We'll take care of the rest."  He took off at a trot.

Kham reached into his overcoat and pulled out the two handgonnes.  "Forgive me ladies," he whispered to them.  "I hate the weather too."

There were four Milandisian cantons struggling to fend off a gaunt, bestial hound-like thing bristling with quills.  The men were all armed with halberds. Dozens of corpses lay on the ground, some Milandisian, some Coryani, all with melee weapon in hand and quills sticking out of their chests. Other bodies were spread out further still, the ground ringed by black circles as if some terrible force had scorched it.

With a shout, Vlad charged head on into the fray.  The howler blinked at the sudden bravery in a new opponent and whirled to face him.  It lunged forward and snapped at his face with a feral growl, missing it by inches as Vlad smashed his shield into the side of the howler's head.

Vlad stabbed upwards at its exposed underbelly as the creature fell back onto one of the militiamen.  The man slumped to the ground, four quivering quills jutting out at odd angles from his body.

One of Ilmarė's arrows whistled through the air and bounced off the quills of the beast.  The howler turned and snapped the halberd of one of the cantons, disemboweling him with one stroke.

Kham lifted his handgonnes up.  "Okay girls, let's see if we can do any better than the elf."

He took aim and flicked the catch that would ignite the powder deep in the barrel of the dragon's mouth.  It fizzled.  

"Dammit, Jessica, now is not the time to be ornery!"

Vlad stepped backwards as the howler snapped at his sword. One of its splayed paws slashed upwards, knocking his shield back.

Another canton stepped in before the howler could press its advantage against Vlad, stabbing at the creature's flank.  It snarled and lunged with all fours on the hapless man, ending his life with one snap of its jaws.

Kham kissed his other handgonne and aimed it at the howler.  "Come on baby…"

He flicked the catch.

KA-BLAM!

A patch of quills exploded off the howler as the bullet hit.  It shrieked in agony and leapt backwards, its jaws snapping at where it had been struck. 

"LETUM INFIRMUS!" shouted Aurelius as he charged past Vlad with his spear outstretched.  

The creature lunged forward as it had before with Vlad, but Aurelius was ready.  He lowered the spear just enough to catch the howler in the face.  The shaft speared through its eye.

The beast howled, its claws twitching in the air.  Then it was still.

With a twist, Aurelius shook the howler's head off of the end of his longspear.  

"That," said Aurelius, walking past Kham, "is what they teach us in legionnaire school."


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## talien

*Kham: A Portrait*

I just had to post this.  Kham's player, Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.dreamsculptor.com) just created a fantastic picture of his character.  I'm totally blown away by it.  Now I'm going to try to get him to create one for every character in the party.


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## ValAssante

*Khams...color*

Someone should tell Kham that Altherians are dark skined.....  

Dagger of Cadic


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## deus pigeon

*Kham's color*

Kham's back story is well....another story. sufice it to say he is mullato. 1/2 Altherin. hence the color. but thanks for the reminder many players sometimes over look it.


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Part 4: Smoke and Mirrors*

"Near as I can tell," said Vlad in the home of their new host, "the century was escorting the boy and his teacher back to Coryan when a wizard struck."

Kham was still shivering as he sipped from a mug full of mead. "Struck?  Define 'struck.'"

"He let loose a gout of flames from his mouth, as the cantons tell it," explained Vlad.  "That took out most of the legionnaires.  Then he read a scroll and the howler showed up. You know the rest."

"A powerful wizard indeed," said Aurelius.

"Oh, he had help," said Vlad. "Masked men attacked the century as well."

"Aye, 'twas a near thing," interjected Aldous, their host. He was an older man dressed in long brown robes. Aldous was their designated contact in Luchek and keeper of the town library.  "'Tis a good thing 'is teacher kept 'is wits about 'im, 'cause the whole damn place went to 'ell when the masked folks showed up."

Ilmarė cupped a mug of hot mead in her hands.  "Where is the boy now?"

"Oh, he's inna private room.  E's with 'is teacher, Theron. 'Tis a good thing too, 'cause the Harvester was 'ell bent on takin' 'im."

"Harvester?" said Vlad.

Kham's faced turned ashen.  "Agents from the Isle of Ymandragore.  The Sorcerer-King conducts raids on those who have the Gift for sorcery and wizardry.  The children are adopted into Ymandragorian society." His shiver was not entirely due to his damp clothes.

"But the Harvester got away," said Aurelius.  

"Aye," said Aldous.  "An the town is lucky fer it. We'd 'ave twice as many cantons down if he stuck around."

"I did not count a centurion's corpse amongst the bodies," said Aurelius.  "Perhaps he was not with the rest of the legionnaires."

Kham shook his head.  "What, he took the long way around? Looks like the legionnaires didn't have any more luck than the cantons."

"May we see the boy?" Vlad asked quickly, before the two began arguing again.

"O' course, o' course.  Follow me."  

The old man struggled to his feet and led them down to the lowest level of the library.  Stone walls echoed with their footsteps, the sole noise in the cold tunnel. Aldous finally stopped before a wooden door and knocked. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a powerfully built man in a long white toga and cloak.  

"Hello Aldous." Theron's aquiline features hardened as he peered past Aldous.  "Who are these people and why have you brought them here?"

"We are on a mission to retrieve the boy," said Aurelius, stepping forward.  "I am Aurelius Ignatius, signifer of the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior.  We have traveled far to escort Cassicus safely back to Coryan."

Theron opened the door a little more.  "Cassicus has been understandably shaken from the experience.  I've been teaching him a meditation to calm him down.  He's meditating right now, actually."

"Excellent.  May we see him?"

Theron opened the door enough so that they could all peer into the room.  Beyond was another open door to a smaller room. Cassicus was sitting in meditation at the center.

"The boy should rest first.  This room has no other forms of entry, so we should be safe, especially if you stand guard." Theron chuckled.  "You all look like you could use some rest yourselves."

Aurelius kept his eyes on the boy.  "I would like to speak with him."

Theron stood in front of Aurelius, blocking his view.  " I would rather you leave him be, for the moment."

Aurelius stepped into the room to get a better view of the child.  "I must insist that I can confirm the child's health and state of mind."

Theron turned to face Aurelius, his shoulder to the entryway.  "This is a senator's son.  I am his guardian and I will have final say in what happens to the boy."

Kham slipped past Theron, unnoticed.

"I can appreciate that," said Aurelius.  "However, it is possible the child is harmed in a way you cannot detect.  These are Harvesters after all, they're capable of anything."

Kham made his way silently over to the open doorway where Cassicus sat in meditation.

"And I repeat, I don't care who you are or where you came from, I am eminently qualified to determine Cassicus' health and state of mind!  He is FINE."

Kham whispered to the boy.  "Psst!  Hey, kid.  You okay?"  

The boy showed no signs of even noticing his presence.

"I am sure he is fine," said Aurelius, "but many men have died to guarantee the child's safety and I find it odd you are not willing to let us even speak to the boy."

Kham blinked.  "Uh, guys?"

"I don't think you understand just how traumatized the boy was by the experience," countered Theron.  "He watched that monster bite a man in half!"

"Guys? There's something seriously wrong with the kid."

Theron whirled. "There is nothing wrong with him.  Please step away from the door."

"Now there's no reason to insult the child-" said Aurelius.

"No, no.  What I mean is…he's not breathing."

"What?"

Kham jabbed a thumb in Cassicus' direction.  "The kid.  He's not breathing.  His chest isn't moving.  That's either one deep meditation or-"

"An illusion," said Ilmarė, placing one hand on the hilt of her sword.  "We've been tricked."

Aurelius whirled to interrogate Theron, but only a gust of air filled the place where he had once been.

"The dirty bastards!" said Aldous as he stepped into the room. "The Harvester must 'ave him!"

Vlad nodded.  "He's probably headed for the closest port city, Yarrvek.  It's two hours ride from here."

"You've got me horses," Aldous said, ushering them all out of the room. "I'll send word ahead to try to stop the bastard before 'e sets sail, but ya better leave now."

Thunder echoed above them on cue.

"Great," said Kham.  "More rain."


----------



## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Part 5: Slaughter at the Docks*

The storm whipped up, even more ferocious than before, drenching everyone and everything in its path.  They were riding their horses hard, but it was nearly impossible to see through the thick veil of rain.

"We should be close!" Vlad shouted over the storm. His horse's flanks were drenched with sweat and its bit was covered in foam.

"There," Ilmarė shouted back, standing up in her stirrups, "I can see the docks!"

Just then her horse gave out as its legs collapsed from exhaustion. Ilmarė leapt from her mount and landed on her feet in the mud.

The other horses bucked wildly.  Aurelius battled to keep his mount under control. 

Vlad and Kham dismounted and took Aurelius' horse by the reins.  "You don't ride much, do you?" Kham shouted.

"Legionnaires walk!" Aurelius replied as he clumsily dismounted. "And I guess we're walking from here!"

There was a terrific explosion as a ball of fire billowed at the docks.  A great mushroom cloud of smoke spread out like a dread halo over the carnage. 

"I think we better run," said Vlad as he picked up the pace.  Debris began to pelt them.  

Kham easily lapped Aurelius.  "You know," he said as he passed, "you might be able to move faster if you didn't carry that ridiculous shield."

"The scutum is a critical part of legionnaire warfare!" Aurelius said, shrugging the shield off of his shoulders.  "As is the signum!" He shook the three parts of the spear in his fist at Kham.  

Before he could come up with a retort, an ear landed on Kham's overcoat. "Gods!" he shouted, swatting the ear off of him.  

They skidded onto a scene of complete destruction.  Standing in a blackened charred ring was a squat, brute of a man, dressed in leather.  He had a Milandisian woman by the hair in one hand.  His free hand smoldered with arcane flames.  

More disturbing was the still smoking circle of bodies and body parts.  All of them were blown backwards, some slumped up against charred buildings.  They had seen the Harvester's handiwork before.

"More of you?" the Harvester snarled. "Why is this whelp so important to be worth these many lives?"

"Let the girl go!" shouted Aurelius, screwing in the last part of his signum. 

Kham ducked down behind some crates as Ilmarė stood at the entry to the dock.  There was nowhere for the Harvester to go.  

Vlad unsheathed his sword and unbuckled his shield.  Aurelius stood at his side. 

"Let her go? Fine!"  With a rapid, practiced motion, the Harvester bit into the woman's neck with his teeth and slurped from the gushing wound. He tossed her aside like a spent wine jug, smiling through bloodstained teeth.

"Gods!" shouted Vlad in horror.  He paused in shock at the sight. Aurelius turned ashen faced. 

"Come on then," the Harvester sneered.  "Let's finish this!"

Aurelius and Vlad crouched, slowly advancing on the Harvester.

From behind them, what was first a whisper rose in volume until it could not be ignored.  It was the most beautiful sounds anyone of the three men had ever heard.  

"_Naur vi cair._" The music came from Ilmarė, her arms outstretched, singing with all her might into the very storm itself.

The Harvester laughed.  "You're going to kill me with music?  Well, I've got no song, but I do have something you can dance to! Acidus sagitta!"

A shrieking green bolt of energy thudded into Vlad's shield.  The front of the shield began to bubble and hiss.

"_lanc i dalaf._" Ilmarė sang of the horrors the Harvester had wrought.

"We have to press him, but not yet." Aurelius said to Vlad.  "Kham!" he shouted over his shoulder, "shoot him!"

"_Mathach vi geven?_" Although they did not understand the question in Ilmarė's song, they understood.  They could feel it in the earth.

Kham was frozen, transfixed.  Tears were in his eyes.  It was the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.  He wanted to tear his breast and weep for the agonies that had been inflicted on so many innocent people; he wanted to rage at the man who had caused so much pain; he wanted to-

"_Nostach vi 'wilith?_" Ilmarė was singing of the air.  

Kham blinked. He had to focus.  He leaned forward, aiming one of the handgonnes at the Harvester. 

He flipped the catch on his handgone. There was a loud retort, but the blast was muted in the torrential downpour and Ilmarė's song.  Vlad watched in horror as the bullet sparked inches away from the Harvester and dropped, smoking, to the ground.

The Harvester squinted in Kham's direction.  "I can do better than that, Altherian.  Magicus telum!"

Three blue bolts of crackling energy snaked their way outwards, slicing through shield and armor.  Aurelius and Vlad groaned as each found their mark.  

Kham realized the third was taking, a long, lazy route towards him.  He ducked down, but the bolt went right through the crates and struck him in the chest.

"_Máb le i nagor,_" sang Ilmarė. The war was upon them.

Vlad suddenly felt renewed energy course through his veins.  Gone was the fear and disgust of the Harvester.  Gone were concerns about the rain and his drenched armor.  He was focused on but one single purpose: to kill the man before him.

Vlad stood up straight and began advancing on the Harvester.

"What are you doing?" Aurelius said. 

The Harvester uncorked a potion with one hand and gulped it down, the red liquid spilling around his lips. 

"I'm going to kill him," said Vlad. 

"_Bád gurth vi ngalad firiel_," sang Ilmarė. Death moved in the fading light.  Vlad couldn't help but notice that the sun was setting below the sea.

The Harvester took a deep breath.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" Aurelius shouted back. 

The Harvester exhaled a gout of flames just as Aurelius dove in front of Vlad.  Tongues of fire licked around the scutum, barely shielding both men from the fire.

"_Dagrathach go hain?_" Ilmarė's song asked if they would join the fight.

"Yes!" Vlad shouted as he charged the Harvester.

The Harvester's eyes widened with fear.  There was no time to cast another spell. He struggled to reach for his short sword, but it was too late.

The first blow struck him in the chest, slicing through his magical defense with a shower of sparks.  The second cut his upturned arm in a futile effort to defend himself.

With a mighty roar, Vlad beheaded the man in one blow.  The Harvester's head bounced once off the dock and tumbled into the sea.

Just then, the rain faded to a drizzle.

Ilmarė walked up to Vlad.  Tears streaked his face.  He was shivering with fatigue from the emotions stirred by her song. 

She put one palm on his shoulder, the other facing the heavens.  The precipitation had stopped completely. 

"Osalian is pleased," was all she said. 

Aurelius joined them.  At the end of the pier, something shimmered.  An ominous looking ship with a sleek, black-varnished hull faded into view.  On its sail were written the words "The Ravager."

Aurelius stepped on board, spear raised high. He ducked into the top deck.

After a moment, he emerged with Cassicus, bound, gagged, and unconscious in his arms. 
"He's alive," he said, laying him gently on the dock. "Thank Illiir!"

One trembling hand struggled for purchase over the crates.  "Uh…" croaked Kham, clutching his chest with the other hand.  "You know, I'm not dead either.  A little help?"


----------



## ledded

Great story and fabulous illustration for Kham.  Keep the good stuff coming guys.


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## talien

*So Shall Ye Reap - Epilogue*

When Aurelius left the Senator's chambers, he was surprised to see a large man, wrapped in the red cloak of a centurion.

"Flavius?" he said, blinking.  "You're alive!"

Flavius nodded, his wide-brushed helmet under his arm.  "Yes, I am." He was standing rigidly at attention.

"What's wrong?"

Flavius refused to look at him.  "What's wrong?" His voice began to crack. "You dare to ask me what's wrong after the dishonor you have heaped upon our legion?"

Aurelius blinked.  "But-"

"A lowly signifer achieves what a century cannot?  You have dishonored the hundred men under my command.  You have dishonored me."

"I was only trying to-"

"Embarrass me?  Enrich yourself?  Ingratiate yourself with Senator Tensen-Balin?  You have achieved all three."

Aurelius bowed his head and remained silent.

"I cannot discharge you.  But believe you me, I would if I could. Instead, I'm transferring you.  I want you out of my legion. You will be assigned to the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun, effective immediately. Give me your signum and scutum."

Aurelius dutifully handed them over.

"What's that you have there under your arm?"

Aurelius didn't look up.  "A gift."

"From the senator?  I recommend you sell it.  You're going to need the money."

The centurion walked stiffly past him and slammed the double doors leading to the outer courtyard open.  There was an "OOF!" from behind one of them.

Aurelius strode out behind him, looking straight ahead.  Kham stepped out from behind the door, rubbing his nose.

"I'd appreciate it," Aurelius said through gritted teeth, "if you didn't share what you just heard."

Kham shoved his hands in the pockets of his overcoat.  "I'm…sorry, Aurelius.  Maybe if that stupid bastard bothered to use the Ansharan Gates, he would have gotten to Cassicus first and you wouldn't be in this mess.  But that was his fault."

"The senator withdrew the proclamation against piracy and smuggling," said Aurelius.  "So maybe the Ymandragorians got what they wanted after all."

"Don't you think for one second you weren't doing the right thing," said Kham, wagging a finger at Aurelius. "You helped save a boy's life.  That's what matters, not some stupid law."

Aurelius' expression didn't change.  "Quintus," he said.

"What?"

"Call me Quintus.  That's my first name.  I only use Aurelius when I'm on duty." He sighed.  "And it looks like I won't be on duty for awhile.  At least until my transfer is complete."

He flipped the box open.  A silver dagger sparkled within.

"Maybe I should sell this after all."

Kham clapped the lid down again.  "Before you resort to selling gifts from senators, perhaps I could interest you in some side work. I've got two positions filled already. We have one more opening."

"Oh?" Quintus asked. "What kind of positions?"

A wide grin split Kham's face.  "Oh, we've got an elf singer and a Milandisian warrior.  We just need a loud-mouthed braggart.  Know anybody?"

Quintus shot him a weak smile.  "You already have one."

Kham blinked.  "Wait, is that a yes, or are you calling me a loud-mouthed braggart too?"

Quintus chuckled and kept walking.


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Introduction*

This story hour is a home game from the tournament module, "Bargains of Spirit and Flesh," written by Henry Lopez, set in the Arcanis setting.  Our cast of characters includes:


Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr1), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): http://michael.tresca.net 
Kham Val'Abebi (val Rog1), played by Jeremy Ortiz: http://www.dreamsculptor.com/index1.html 
Ilmare Galen (elf Brd1), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
Vlad Martell (human Ftr1), played by Matt Hammer.
Our DM is Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: http://www.storyboardz.net 

This session went a little smoother as everyone became accustomed to each other's playing styles (it takes a little while to get used to Quintus' shouting).  We also all made some tactical errors that the players (including me) have all since learned from.

The final battle ends with Vlad at 1 hit point, all because of the virtue spell cast on him by Quintus.

Finally and most importantly, the ending was a near miss.  Without a little nudging from Rob, we wouldn't have made the right choice, and as you'll see at the last chapter, it's entirely in keeping with Quintus character.  

An infamous Quintus quote that will probably come back to haunt him: "This place is disgusting and I want to go home!"


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 1: Legendary Blades*

"So, tell me again why we're here?"

Kham rolled his eyes.  "Look, it's work, right?  I thought you'd be grateful."

Quintus gestured at the crowded marketplace buzzing around them.  They had traveled to the foot of the massive Corlanthian Mountains, in the shadow of the Dwarven enclave of Solanos Mor.  Dwarves and humans were everywhere, hawking, haggling, and every once in awhile making a sale.

"It's not that.  It's just that I don't see us actually getting any work done."

It was hard to get work done in Marketplace, which also happened to be the name of the town.  The scent of perfumes and incense mixed with delicious smells of spiced roast boar.  Tents and kiosks competed with each other through their signs in a riotous patchwork of colors.  Performers were everywhere, juggling, singing, and joking.

"Oh, we're in the right place," Kham replied.  "It's just that…" Kham's eyes wandered over to the rug merchant who immediately brightened when they locked gaze.

"You are looking for a rug, yes?" The merchant said, sidling up to Kham.  "I give you good rug.  My rugs are very nice."

Quintus frowned at the merchant, who looked a bit like an overeager puppy.  "I am not interested in rugs, merchant!"

Undeterred, the merchant tried Ilmarė next.  "A rug for the pretty lady?"

The Elorii stared the merchant down.  "What would I do with a rug?" she said after he backed away.

"What a question!  A rug will keep you warm.  It will keep you soft.  I give you good rug."

Vlad stood with hands on hips, surveying the long line of people standing under a weapons shop titled, "Legendary Blades."

"Is that our competition?" he asked.

Kham was too busy to respond.  "So, do you have a good travel rug?  I bruise easily."

"Oh yes, yes!" The merchant said excitedly.  "I give you great rug.  It keep you warm at night!" He began rifling through a pile of furs and cloth.  

"Stop encouraging him," said Quintus.  "You'll have us all buying rugs by the time he's done."

The merchant rolled out a variety of furry-looking rugs.  "Touch, see?  Feel the softness."

"I've heard of that shop," Vlad said, ignoring the exchange.  "That's operated by the House of Elabac.  Master Artisan Elabac is a dwarven craftsman of the highest order. His blades can punch through solid steel."

"If there's a line to get this work Kham speaks of," suggested Ilmarė, "maybe we should get on it."

Vlad agreed, and the three of them started to walk over to the line. 

The merchant was still wrapping up a rug with several pieces of rope for Kham when he said, "the job is for caravan guards to accompany a shipment of goods to nearby Nevanne. From there, the caravan travels to Tralia in Milandir."

Quintus stopped in mid-step.  "You mean…where we JUST came from?"

"Well, yes," Kham said, hefting the rug with a strap over one shoulder.  "But nobody paid you to get here. It's 100 Imperials for the two-week trip."

Vlad led the way over to the line and pushed his way onto it.  Smaller men got out of his way.

"You seem awfully eager to take on this job," said Quintus, joining him on the line.  

Vlad nodded.  "At the end of the trip, one guard is selected by Master Elabac to receive one of his famous blades.  I'd have walked barefoot from Coryan to Marketplace for the chance to own of those swords."

"I'm just about barefoot," Quintus said, looking ruefully at his worn sandals.  "I still haven't received my pay from the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior."  The Coryani government could be a bureaucratic monstrosity and it didn't help that a centurion plotted against him at every turn. "I'm surprised you took this task, Lady Ilmarė. Surely caravan duty is beneath one such as you."

Ilmarė slipped into line easily without bumping into anybody.  "I am Larestri," she said. 

"Lay-WHAT-he?" asked Vlad.

"It is Eloran for 'those who roam'. It is my mission to walk among humans and learn their ways."

Quintus squinted at her. "Learn our ways?  For what purpose?" 

"For the coming war, of course."

Before any of them could ask more, Vlad found himself at the front of the line.

"Name?" asked a stocky dwarf with a bright red beard.

"Vlad Martell."

"Next!" Vlad hastily moved aside as Quintus stepped up. "Name?"

"I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the-"

The dwarf made a small mark next to the word "human" on his pad.  "Next!" 

"But you didn't even write my name down!"

"I said NEXT!" shouted the dwarf.

Ilmarė glanced down at the pad the dwarf was holding.  "Osalikene," she said.

The dwarf looked at her. 

"Elorii?"

The dwarf looked at her.

Ilmarė sighed.  "Elf."

The dwarf made a checkmark next to the word "elf."

"Next!"

Quintus glowered down at the dwarf, who was studiously ignoring him.  "And just how are you selecting who will guard this caravan?  Surely we can't all be guards."

Kham stepped up. "Human," he said with a smirk.

"Next!"

Quintus walked out into the street, out of earshot of the other applicants.  "So do you have some sort of plan to get us hired?" 

"I'm sure something will turn up." Kham put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "They have to thin out the guards somehow."

Quintus puts his hands on his hips.  "That's it?  That's the plan?  Is that what they teach you in handgonner school?"

Kham rolled his eyes.  "First, don't try to use the joke I used on you two weeks ago against me.  It sounds stupid when you do it."

Vlad nodded vigorously in agreement with Kham, then slowly stopped nodding when he noticed Quintus glaring at him.

"Second, maybe you should pray to your god or something for guidance.  In the mean time, I'm going to get a drink and keep my ear to the ground."

And with that, Kham walked off into the crowd.  

Vlad and Ilmarė looked from Kham's retreating back to Quintus.  Then they followed Kham.

Quintus looked up at the sun.  "Iliir give me strength.  Or strike him dead.  I'll take either one."

Then he marched after Kham.


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 2: Defenders of the Weak*

"What do you mean you can't find Kham?"

Vlad looked over his shoulder.  "I told you: He went into one of the many taverns back there and he didn't come out. I don't know where he went.  I'm sure he'll turn up."

Quintus looked took a deep, frustrated breath.  "Well, he was the closest thing we had to a guide here.  It's getting dark out.  We'd better find a place to sleep."

Ilmarė pointed to a sign in front of an inn.  "Perhaps there." The sign read "The Sins of Our Fathers." 

Quintus shook his head.  "I don't think-"

There was a shout off to their left.  "Mind your own business, old man!" someone hissed, trying and failing to be silent.

Quintus and Vlad exchanged looks.  Quintus nodded as he put his hand on the hilt of his gladius. Vlad slowly unsheathed his sword as he slipped into the darkness of the alleyway. Ilmarė followed.

As Quintus stepped into the alley, he could make out four rough-looking men standing over a crumpled form.  A woman was weeping against a wall behind them, covering her face.

"Unhand them!" Quintus shouted.  

The men looked up in surprise.  One of the thugs had a hand on the old dwarf's collar, the other raised in a fist.

"I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the-"

The lead thug dropped the old dwarf.  "Get 'em!" 

He rushed at Quintus but was intercepted by Vlad, who stepped into his path.  The lead thug bounced off the larger man's breastplate. Vlad wagged his finger in the man's face.  

There was a flash of steel and the man crumpled in a heap, clutching his chest. Ilmarė stood over the fallen man, her longsword covered in red. 

"By order of the Emperor," began Quintus, "I demand you-"

The thugs fled, dragging their bleeding comrade with them.  

"One of these days, I'm going to finish a sent-"

"Over here!" shouted Vlad.  "I think the old man is hurt." He was crouched over the old dwarf.  "I don't think he can get up." Behind them, Ilmarė calmed the woman down.

Quintus muttered something to himself and crouched down next to the old dwarf. 

"Can you stand, father?" he said, his tone softening.

The old man's nose had been broken.  "Looks bad," Quintus said.  "Stand back."

Quintus leaned down and put both of his palms on the man's head.  "Illiir, iuvo sana sua vulna levis."

A soft light emanated from Quintus' hands and suffused the dwarf with a golden glow. 

"Ah!" the old man said, his wounds healed.  "A brother…of Illiir!  Bless you…for your kindness." He spoke in long, slow gasps that were painful to listen to.  It seemed as if each breath was his last.

"You never mentioned you were a priest," Ilmarė said from the shadows.

Quintus glanced up at her.  "I am not a priest.  I am a signifer."

The woman weeping against the wall stopped sobbing.  She slowly backed away, then turned and ran.

"Real friendly town," said Vlad.

"A prostitute," Ilmarė responded, "fearful of Coryani law."

"You shouldn't defend prostitutes, old man," said Vlad.  "You were no match for that many men."

"Or even one man," Ilmarė added. 

Quintus helped the old man to his feet.  "It is fortunate…you were…nearby," he said. " What brought you…to Marketplace?"

"Caravan duty," Quintus said with a frown.  "But we've traveled two weeks from Coryan, only to discover that there are hundreds of applicants for the task, with no clear explanation as to who will be selected."

The old dwarf pointed one crooked finger in the direction of The Sins of Our Fathers inn.  "I…recommend staying…at that inn," he said. Then he began to hobble down the street.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" asked Vlad.

Two dwarves rushed up to the older man. Vlad recognized one of them as the lazy note taker from the caravan line. "Master Elabac," one shouted, "are you alright?"

"Master Elabac?" Vlad and Quintus said in unison, blinking in surprise.

The old man turned and winked at them as the younger dwarves hustled him away.  

"I think we were just went through the selection process," said Ilmarė.  She walked across the street to the inn.

Vlad began striding towards the inn.  "And we know where we're staying tonight."

Quintus looked skywards.  "Thank you, Illiir."  He started to follow his two companions into the peculiarly named inn. Then he paused.  "I guess this means Kham's not dead."  After chuckling to himself, he ducked through the door into the inn.


----------



## resscane

Great story hour.  Your writing sets a very nice tone.  Thanks


----------



## PCIHenry

Hello Mike, 

GREAT job!!!!!

You are certainly bringing my little mod to life. I'm glad you're enjoying it as I am certainly enjoying your prose.

I loook forward to your next installment.

Best,

Henry Lopez
President
PCI


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 3a: Into Solanos Mor*

Ilmarė joined Quintus and Vlad at a table in the corner of the inn.  Its various denizens were just waking up, many of them sleeping where they sat the night before.  

Quintus dipped a piece of bread into a bowl filled with Savonan wine. "Would you like some bread?" 

Ilmarė put one hand up in disgust.  "No, thank you, I already ate."

"Oh, it's not that bad," said Vlad, chewing loudly.  "Although I think it needs some sausage."

"Bara lawr," said Ilmarė.  "If you're going to eat bread, it should at least taste like something. Bara lawr is delicious."

Quintus popped another piece of bread into his mouth.  "I doubt they serve that here."

"I see you found Kham," said Ilmarė.  "And he is not dead."

Vlad shrugged.  "It's hard to tell, really."

The door to the tavern swung open and two dwarves entered.  Vlad recognized from the night before.

"We beg your pardons for interrupting your repast," said the older of the two dwarves.  "I am Maten, and this is Beldin.  We are of the Legendary Blades Smithy."

"I'd introduce myself but I'm sure you remember our names by now since you took such careful notes," said Quintus in measured tones.

Maten wrung his hands.  "Master Elabac has asked for the honor of your presence.  If you would be so kind as to follow us, we will take you to Solanos Mor."

"We would be honored.  We'll meet you outside," said Vlad.  The dwarves anxiously complied. 

Quintus stood up and picked up his backpack.  "I don't know why we should be honored to be invited to his home when we already signed up for this task."

"Solanos Mor is no ordinary home," said Ilmarė.  "It's not common for outsiders to be allowed within Solanos Mor proper."

Vlad belted on his scabbard.  "I want to get a look at some of those legendary blades," he said.  "With the right sword I could truly be a force to reckon with."

Quintus shrugged on his shield. "A man's weapons are only as good as his skill in using them."

The three of them began to walk towards the door of the tavern even as the other patrons began to groggily come to their senses.

"What about Kham?" said Vlad.

"Oh yes, that's right."  Quintus picked up the bowl of wine and poured it over Kham's head, which had been lying on the table since they began eating breakfast.

Kham bolted upright with a "WAAAHHHAAA!"  He fumbled for his handgonnes, shoving backwards from the table.

Quintus shook his head.  "We're leaving, Kham.  We're going to Solanos Mor.  Are you coming?"

Realizing that perhaps he was not going under attack or about to drown, Kham shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs.  "Solanos Mor, huh?" he said, rolling up his rug, which he had been laying on top of. "Dwarves, right?  Won't that be cramped?"


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 3b: Into Solanos Mor*

They walked for seemingly hours up a hill, but Solanos Mor was always a presence, looming over Marketplace.  Intricately carved twin doors made of solid iron flanked the entrance. Spanning both of the double doors was a stylized face, with eyes looking towards the heavens and its mouth shaped in a silent scream.

"Happy place," said Kham.  

They followed their dwarven guides into a tunnel that was equally spacious.  When they entered into the city proper, they paused to take in the sights.

"Well," said Vlad, "I don't think we have to worry about cramped spaces."

"This is the Vault," said Beldin matter of factly.

Solanos Mor was a city within a cavern—the largest cavern any of them had ever seen.  The buildings and halls were of huge proportions that stretched towards the vaulted ceilings and entryways.  The distance across the city was so great that torchlight was not enough to illuminate it.  The cavern itself may as well have been a starless night sky.

There was a low, rhythmic humming that reverberated throughout the cavern. As they moved deeper into Solanos Mor, it became clear that the humming was actually thousands of voices, all of them chanting in unison.

Ilmarė looked surprised.

"What is it?" asked Quintus.

"It's Ancient Altharin," she replied. "They are praying to your god."  She said the last word with obvious distaste.

"While outside the streets of the Vault, it is considered highly offensive to speak any words that are not the Catechism of Light," said Maten.  

They journeyed through looming shadows and darkened corridors.  Everything was made out of stone and all of it much larger than they imagined possible for dwarves. Throughout the journey, Beldin and Maten chanted a prayer along with their brethren.  They stopped before a large stoned building bellowing huge gouts of smoke and soot. 

"Master Elabac will be along shortly," said Beldin.  Then he ushered them inside.

They entered a room filled with weapons of all shapes and sizes.  The wall was blanketed with them: axes, swords, and spears of every stripe.  Vlad looked around, eyes wide.

"This…this is amazing," he said.

Kham sat down on an anvil.  "What's the big deal?"

Quintus squinted at a longspear that was bracketed to the wall. "The entire dwarven race was struck by Illiir's curse.  That curse is passed from generation to generation. After the curse, the god Sarish struck a bargain with the dwarves: if they were to create the perfect item, the cursed would be lifted."

"Your gods are a petty lot," said Ilmarė.

Vlad had his eyes on a gleaming longsword.  "These weapons are-"

"Failures," said the old dwarf as he entered the room.  "They are not perfect…they have not lifted…our curse.  But I am so close…"

Beldin and Maten escorted Elabac to a nearby stool and stood at his side. 

"I am five centuries old," said Elabac. "I will not last much longer…but I am so close…to crafting the perfect blade."

"We have strived to redeem ourselves in the eyes of Illiir the Merciful," said Beldin, "but as each generation passes, fewer and fewer dwarves are born.  Master Elabac must live to complete his task or our clan may be extinguished altogether."

"How?" Vlad asked.

"We will accompany the caravan to Nevanne and Tralia," said Maten. "Then, a member of the val'Inares clan will activate an Ansharan Portal to our final destination."

"And we need," Elabac said with a weak smile, "reliable guards."

Kham leaned forward to look Elabac in the eye. "A portal to where?"

"Ventaka."

Kham looked around to confirm the expressions of his companions.  "In Canceri?"

Elabac nodded.

"The same stronghold of the Nerothians?"

All three dwarves nodded. "Master Elabac will entreat the Nerothian Akali Vervain to intercede on his behalf with Neroth."

"So you wish to bargain with one fickle deity to please another," Ilmarė said with a frown.

Kham put his hands to his temples.  "Wait, wait, WAIT. Let me get this straight: you want to march right into the center of Canceri and politely ask to have your life extended.  Does anyone else see a problem with this?"

"If it is Illiir's will, I will see it through to the end," said Quintus.  

Vlad's gaze flicked over to the blades.  "What do we get in return?"

Elabac smiled, broader this time.  "You will each…receive one of my…failures."

"Gee," said Kham, "that sounds-"

"I'm in," Vlad said abruptly, standing at attention. 

Kham looked to Ilmarė.  "You too?"

Ilmarė smiled a slight smile back at him.  "I will only be too pleased to witness man and dwarf's folly to its conclusion."

The Val hopped off the anvil and began pacing.  "This is a mistake.  You don't know Canceri like I do."

He took the emerald brooch off of his overcoat, huffed on it, polished it with his sleeve, and put it back on. "But if you're all set on going, then I guess I am too."  

Vlad clapped Kham on the back.  "Glad to have you."

"Besides," Kham said sheepishly, "I rather fancy that scimitar over there."

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  "Very altruistic of you."

"Excellent," said Elabac.  "Meet us…at the courtyard…of Legendary Blades…at dawn." The dwarves filtered out of the room.

Kham blinked.  "Dawn? That's a few hours from now."

"Surely you can find a comfortable table somewhere to lay your rug on," said Quintus. Kham grumbled and followed everyone else out into the darkness of Solanos Mor.


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 4: The Doom of the Reavers*

"This has to be the two most boring weeks of my life," said Kham.  He was sitting on one of the wagons, his chin in his palms.  They were left alone to their own devices; the dwarves were uncomfortable in open spaces and allowed human teamsters to drive the wagons.

"It was exciting enough when we got to Nevanne," said Quintus, watching the scenery go by.  "Master Elabac has far more influence with the Coryani Senate than I suspected."

Ilmarė was testing the strength of her bow.  "The commander was right to be concerned.  This caravan carries enough weapons to equip an army."

Vlad, next to Kham, was sharpening his dagger.  "I imagine the invasion of Moratavia last year by Coryani legions didn't help."  He looked over at Quintus.  

"The threat of a dwarven embargo is enough to even open the Empire's doors," said Quintus.  "If those blades are as good as you say they are, the legions have a vested interest in keeping the dwarves in business."

"That includes seeing the curse continue," Ilmarė said, twanging her bowstring.  

Quintus stroked his chin thoughtfully.  "Actually, I believe the story goes that only the clan that creates the perfect item is exempt from the curse.  Not the entire race."

"Save one clan, doom the rest," added Ilmarė.  

"What is this curse anyway?" asked Vlad.

Quintus leaned back into his seat.  "The dwarves were giants once, tasked with protecting humanity.  But they turned on their charges and made themselves as gods, forcing humans to worship them.  When Illiir discovered their treachery, he cursed them all. It was only through Sarish's mercy that they have a chance to return to their true forms."

The wagons slowed to a halt in front of a warehouse with a sign of the Legendary Blades smithy.  

"We're here," said Kham.

After the trains were unloaded, they followed Elabac to an Ansharan temple just outside of Tralia.

The austere temple had prayers engraved to Anshar similar to other gates, but it was strangely deserted.  No one attended the braziers; no one kept the incense burning around the central idol of Anshar.

"If nobody's here, does that mean we can go home?" asked Kham half-heartedly.

They followed a winding staircase to a dimly lit chamber.  In the center was a Gate of Anshar, a monolithic archway fashioned from marble and covered in prayers to Anshar.  Flanking the gate were several hooded figures, all chanting a low mantra.

A young Ansharan priest rustled up to the doorway.  His eyes were gray, a sure sign of Val heritage. 

"Master Elabac!  You made it!  That's great!"  He rushed over and gave Elabac a hug.  The priest was talking so fast that he was stuttering. He began rustling back towards the gate. "If you'll step up to the gate I'll be happy to transport you through-"

"Wait." Ilmarė put one arm in front of Elabac.  "Something's wrong."

The priest froze.

Quintus lowered his longspear.  "What is it?"

"Not all of the monks are moving," she said.

The priest suddenly ran off to the side, almost tripping over his robes in his haste. 

"Not good," Kham said as he reached into the two holsters beneath his armpits and pulled out both handgonnes. 

The remaining monks threw off their robes to reveal five squat creatures of dwarven stature, covered head-to-toe in spiked armor.  The armor had no latches or straps—it was permanently attached to their bodies.

"Reavers!" gasped Elabac.

Quintus dropped his shield off his back and put it in front of him.  "Elabac, stay behind us!  Kham, Ilmarė, try to find a weak spot in their armor.  Vlad-"

Vlad's longsword and shield were already out.  He charged into the room as three of the Reavers unsheathed broadswords.  Their leader wielded a huge axe that had a spike at the other end.  Still another unrolled a long, weighted chain covered in wicked-looking spikes.

The lead Reaver twirled his axe, first over one shoulder and then the other.  The other Reavers waited even as their leader stepped forward. He was daring Vlad to attack him. 

"Vlad!" Quintus couldn't get out anything more as the spiked chain snapped in the air, inches from his face.  

Kham took aim.  "Alright my dears, let's go to work."  He fired and a Reaver's head bobbed to a loud SPTANG! as the bullet bounced off of its helmet. 

Ilmarė snapped an arrow at the Reaver threatening Quintus, but he slapped it out of the air with the spiked chain.  "I cannot get a clear shot at the other Reavers," she shouted.

Vlad rammed his shield into the lead Reaver's weapon in an attempt to pin it against the smaller dwarf.  To his surprise, the dwarf held his ground and jabbed underneath Vlad's shield with the pointed end of the axe.  Vlad made a clumsy swipe to give himself some breathing room as the other Reavers circled him.  

"I'm working on it!" shouted Quintus. The spiked chain smacked into his shield and the tip snapped around the edge, gashing the signifer's arm.  

Vlad blocked two more blows with his shield but made one Reaver pay with his life as his blade cut deep into the dwarf's less-protected neck. The Reaver went down without a sound. But he paid for it as one of the Reaver's blades pierced his side.  Vlad backpedaled as fast he could but stopped short as he collided with the stone wall.  He had nowhere to run.

"Vlad's dead if we don't do something, fast," said Kham as he reloaded one of his handgonnes.  He nodded to Ilmarė.  "Cover me!"

Kham ran into the large chamber and dove as the chain swept in a low arc.  He tumbled and rolled up in front of Vlad, both handgonnes out.  The two Reavers who flanked Vlad paused in momentary surprise as the yawning maws of two dragons in their faces.

BLAM! BLAM!

Quintus crouched behind his shield and waited.  The chain snapped through the air towards him like some angry metal snake.  He thrust his longspear into its arc and twisted, causing the chain to whistle around and around the longspear.

"Ilmarė!  Now!"

Ilmarė reached into a pouch at her belt and withdrew a pinch of something. "Faer ned I gwaew, daro nin coth!" she whispered as she blew the dust from her palm.

The sparkling substance wafted through the air with a life of its own, spiraling its way into the Reaver's helmet.  The dwarf's grip on the spiked chain relaxed as it staggered backwards.

Quintus rushed forward and speared the longspear through the Reaver's chest.  

"Now what I had in mind," said Quintus, "but that will do."

He dropped the longspear, still tangled in spiked chain.  

"LETUM INFIRMUS!" he shouted as he ran towards Kham and Vlad with gladius drawn.

Vlad was propped up against the wall, blood seeping from an abdominal wound.  He clutched his side as Kham blocked a sword blow from one of the Reavers with the guard of his handgonne.  Two other Reavers lay dead, smoking holes in their helmets.

"Ha!" Kham shouted as another blow bounced off his handgonne.  "Victoria's a saucy wench, but she can take what she gives out.  You'll have to find a bigger… " His eyes widened as the lead Reaver lifted his axe over his head. "…blade."

Quintus smashed into the Reaver with his shield, sending the axe flying.  Before the lead Reaver could react, he followed up with a thrust of his gladius into the dwarf's ribcage.  The Reaver staggered backwards and collapsed. 

With a start, Quintus realized his back was to the last Reaver.  He whirled…

Ilmarė stood over the last Reaver's corpse, her sword dripping dwarven blood.  

"How did you get over here before me?"

Ilmarė shrugged.  "I am a daughter of Osalian," she said, "god of the Wind."

Quintus wiped off his blade and sheathed it as he walked over to Vlad.  Kham was hunched over him. 

"He's hurt.  Bad."

Vlad winced as Quintus put both palms on him.  "Illiir, iuvo sana sua vulna levis," he said.

A golden glow emanated from Vlad's fingertips.  Vlad blinked as he struggled to his feet.

"That was very foolish, Vlad," said Quintus. "Discipline is life.  Never forget that."

Vlad nodded. "You saved my life Kham.  I didn't…

"Expect it?"  He smirked. "I'm full of surprises."

Kham finished reloading both handgonnes.  He pointed them at the advancing Ansharan priest, who had snuck out of his hiding place behind a pillar.

"You've got fifteen seconds to make the ladies here forgive you," said Kham.  "And it better be poetry, because they aren't cheap dates."

The priest's face was streaked with tears.  "They killed the other priests! They said they would kill me if I warned you!" He looked pleadingly from face to face.

"Please," said Elabac as he tottered from the safety of the doorways, "haven't we shed enough blood today?"

Kham spat a curse and put his handgonnes back in their hostlers.  

Quintus gathered up his longspear and walked over to the portal.  "Make yourself useful, priest.  Open the gate."

The Ansharan priest hurried over to the portal and began chanting, waving his hands over its runes.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I counted my blackpowder?" asked Kham.

Quintus looked the Val up and down.  "Did you count your blackpowder?"

"Nope," he said with a wicked grin.  Then he hopped through the portal. The last thing he saw before he was surrounded by blue light was Quintus' look of horror.

It was worth it.


----------



## Taren Seeker

I've read some of this thread, but not all since I haven't played all the mods yet 

Nice work on dialogue, and that pic is really nice. It fits the Pistoleer in my group perfectly. Keep it up, hopefully I will be able to read it all someday.


----------



## deus pigeon

*Out of Play*

I am sorry you haven't played those modules. Regretfully they have been retired earlier this year and are nolonger available to play through Living Arcanis. This is a fun retrospective and also serves to solidify the magic of the early adventures. I hope you reconsider and read on and discover the wonders of arcanis.


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 5: Out of the Frying Pan…*

The gate's flickering blue aura dissipated even as Kham look slack jawed upon the scene around him. 

Some humans were corralled in a far corner, chained to each other.  Scattered about the chamber were desiccated limbs, skulls, and ribcages, evidence of a battle where undead were defeated with extreme prejudice.  The victors of the battle stood victorious at the far end of the chamber.  One man, dressed in white plate armor rimmed with yellow edges, stood in front of six other warriors similarly arrayed in yellow armor.  All of them wielded long, two-handed swords with edges shaped like flames.

"Nierites," Kham said under his breath.  "Damn."

"Surrender or suffer the Flames of Nier!"

Kham put up his hands.  "Errr.  You know you sound remarkably like someone I know…"

There was another flash of blue light as the gate opened behind Kham and Quintus stepped through.

"That's him," Kham said, pointing at a confused Quintus.  "Fanatical legionnaire, meet fanatical Nierite."

Quintus turned, shield and spear at the ready. "Nierites?  Here? But this is Ventaka!"

"By order of Leonydes val'Virdan, the Sword of the Heavens, I demand you relinquish your weapons!"

Quintus' companions stepped through the portal. 

"You go deal with them," whispered Kham. 

Quintus placed his spear in front of Vlad, who had his sword and shield out.  "Hold.  Let them come to us."  

Vlad nodded.  

"Ilmarė, guard Elabac. Kham…" Quintus looked around. "Where's Kham?"

Kham was running across to the left of Quintus towards the prisoners.  The utter lack of any signs of surrendering prompted the Nierites to begin walking towards them with their two-handed swords held high.

"If I know fanatics," Quintus said, "they'll-"

"Charge!" shouted the leader, breaking into a trot.

"Steady," said Quintus.

One of the Nierites split off and ran to follow Kham.

"Steady…"

Kham turned.  "You idiots are actually following me?" he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm a noncombatant!" 

"Steady…"

When the Nierite didn't stop, Kham whirled and drew forth his handgonnes. "Okay, I lied."

"NOW!"

At the last moment, Quintus lowered his spear.  The shaft smashed through the Nierite's plate and spun him sideways.  A second swung his sword hard into Quintus' shield, the blow reverberating so hard throughout his arm that it rattled his teeth. 

Ilmarė ducked low underneath the swing of a massive sword and pierced the Nierite's plate armor with the tip of her blade. He slumped forward, forcing Ilmarė to kick the corpse off her sword.

Vlad chopped downwards at the thigh of the fourth Nierite while his shield blocked the fifth.

BLAM! 

The handgonne fired but it was not enough to stop the charging Nierite.  The blade struck sideways, knocking Kham to the ground.  His handgonnes flew in different directions, out of his reach.

Quintus saw Kham go down.  "Vlad!  Hold them off!  I'm going to help Kham!"

Vlad blocked a sword blow with his shield and struck another Nierite down.  "Go!"

The Coryani dropped his shield as he charged across the chamber towards the Nierite.  "LETUM INFIRMUS!" he shouted.

The Nierite raised his sword over his head.  The force of the blow would be such that it would surely decapitate his victim.

Before the blow came, Vlad's spear struck the Nierite's abdomen and lifted him up. He kept running, spearing the man five feet above the ground against a nearby wall.

Ilmarė joined them a moment later. "They're all dead," she said. 

Quintus helped Kham to his feet. "Ouch," Kham said, clutching at his ribs.

"Broken ribs.  Hold still." Quintus puts his palms to Kham's chest. "Illiir, iuvo sana sua vulna levis."

Kham stretched and picked up his handgonnes.  "Perfect.  Nice to know someone else is carrying their fair share of the heroics around here."

Quintus smirked as he yanked the spear out of the wall.  "You're welcome."

Kham joined Vlad, who was talking to a bald, pasty-faced man with gray eyes and dressed in expensive black leather.  Most of the prisoners were freed from their chains, but a few stood dull and lifeless, their eyes unfocused. 

"What's up with them?" Kham 

"Dey are de living dead," the bald man said. 

Kham's gray gaze flickered over to him.  "And you are?"

"My name is Helac val'Mordane."

"He's something called a Black Chanter," said Vlad.  "They were attacked by Nierites."

"The Nierites are led by the Sword of the Heavens," said Ilmarė.  "He is the tyrant who tore down the First Imperium and precipitated the Shadow Age.  Leonydes was thought to have vanished until he resurfaced in Nishanpur.  The Sword of the Heavens has had his eye on Canceri ever since."

Kham scratched the back of his head.  "Black Chanter, huh.  You sing to corpses, right?"

"Dis is true," Helac said in his thick Coryani accent.  "Most of our blessed ancestors dat have passed on and return, find dat deir ability to feel emotions and passions begin to fade.  I know of special songs and melodies dat can stir some of de lost passion vidin deir vithered breasts."

"Helac says he was captured after leaving Akali's personal chambers," added Vlad.

"I had just put my Lord Vervain to peaceful rest along with de rest of his advisors vhen I was captured," said Helac.  

"Lord Vervain?" asked Elabac, hobbling his way over.  "That is who…we have come…to see."

Helac blanched.  "De Nierites you killed vere an advance guard of a much larger army.  Dey have laid siege to de city.  I'm afraid dey plan to permanently seal de Akali vitin deir chambers."

"If Vervain…is sealed in…all is lost," said Elabac.

Quintus looked from Elabac to Helac.  "Helac, do you know the way?"

"I do."

"Then let's get moving. Oh and Kham?"

Kham stopped short.  

"You've got 17 shots left.  You may not be counting, but I am."

Kham shrugged.  "We'll be lucky if I have anything left by the time we're done with this insanity."


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 5: …Into the Fire*

The long, dark, and dank corridors made Ventaka feel more like a mausoleum than a city.  Sounds of men shouting and weapons clanging echoed around them as the siege continued.  Long trails of scorch marks and the blasted remains of fallen combatants littered the silent halls.

Helac led them unerringly through the catacomb-like passages, deeper and deeper into the black heart of the Necropolis.  Before long, they heard the muffled chants of sorcerers enacting a ritual that would entrap the leaders of Ventaka behind a supernatural barrier.

Kham peeked around the corner.  At the center of the northern side of the larger corridor was a set of bronze double doors, turning black with age.  Before the doors, a circle was inscribed in blood, its borders marked by four lit braziers.  Standing outside of the circle was a robed figure, reading from a scroll.  Around him were four Nierites dressed in full armor, another gray-eyed man wearing the vestments of a Nierite priest, and a huge figure dressed in bright red full plate, its edges lined in bright yellow. 

"Well?" asked Quintus.

Kham took a deep breath.  "Seven, five warriors and two Val—one is a priest, the other is probably a sorcerer."

Quintus frowned. "Well, it's six against seven, our odds are still good." His gazed wandered over to Elabac.  "Make that five against seven.  Where's Helac?"

"He slipped away just now," said Ilmarė.  "He mentioned something about stirring his ancestors to repel the Nierite scourge."

Kham put his hands on his hips.  "You were saying?"

"Okay, it's four on seven.  There is no way we can take them all."

"We just killed six warriors," responded Ilmarė.

"Those weren't sorcerers," said Quintus.  "You remember how much trouble we had with the Harvester.  They've got a sorcerer and a priest."

Vlad glanced around the corner and looked back over his shoulder.  "Wish we had our own sorcerer."

Kham drew his handgonnes.  "I've got all the sorcery we need right here."

Quintus blinked.  "That's it!  Kham, you have enough blackpowder for 17 shots, right?"

The Val looked at him sideways.  "Yes, why?"

Quintus turned to Ilmarė.  "You have control over the wind spirits?"

Ilmarė looked down her nose at Quintus.  "I ask the children of Osalian for favors."

"Yes, yes.  Well, do you think one of those children would be willing to toss a burning vial of blackpowder through the air at our enemies?"

Kham waved one of his handgonnes in Quintus' face.  "Excuse me?  That's MY blackpowder.  It's very expensive.  And volatile.  You don't just go making—"

"Uh, guys?" said Vlad.  "They're all chanting now.  I think they're about to finish the seal."

"We don't have time to argue, Kham.  It's the only way to even the odds."

Kham crossed his arms.  "I don’t like it."

They all stared at him.  Around the corner, the chanting grew louder. 

"Fine, fine!" said Kham as he threw up his arms in defeat.  "But blackpowder is dangerous stuff, if you're going to blow my shot, at least let a professional put it together."  He put his gonnes back in their holsters and took out a powder horn and a vial from his coat.  

Then he pulled a fringe out of his pocket that Quintus recognized as part of Kham's rug. "Glad that rug is finally proving useful."

Kham ignored him as he carefully measured out the blackpowder. 

"Vlad, on my command, we will run out in front and hold the line.  Ilmarė will provide cover from behind us.  Kham, you take out the sorcerer and the priest.  Elabac, you stay here. We're going to need to hit them hard and then press the advantage."

Vlad and Ilmarė nodded. 

Quintus stepped over to Vlad.  "Kneel," he said.

Vlad arched an eyebrow but did as he was told. Quintus put both hands on his forehead. "Illiir, sanctimonia largioro!"

A warm glow surrounded Vlad.  

"Didn't you heal him already?" asked Kham as he tapped the remaining blackpowder into the vial.

"I was not healing his wounds.  I asked for Illiir's blessing.  Illiir saw fit to give it.  It is a good omen."

The chanting grew to a fever pitch.

Vlad stood up.  "I feel…amazing."

Kham rolled his eyes.  "We're going to need a lot more than a good omen from Illiir if we're going to win this.  I'm ready."

Kham put the vial down on the ground in front of him and pulled out his flint and steel. "Ilmarė, you're going to need your faerie friends or whatever you call them to blow this vial over to the Nierites fast. I don't know how long it will take to explode, exactly."

Ilmarė frowned but only took her bow off of her shoulder.  Vlad drew his own weapon.  Quintus held his spear and shield at the ready.

"Kham, go," said Quintus.

Kham sparked the flint and steel and on the first try ignited the fuse.  

"Ilmarė, go!"

Ilmarė closed her eyes and put one palm up to the ceiling. "Faer ned I gwaew, tegi sen naur an nin coth!"

Nothing happened. The fuse hissed, popped, and crackled as the fuse continued to burn.  

Ilmarė continued to chant, "Faer ned I gwaew, tegi sen naur an nin coth!"

Kham drew both of his handgonnes.  "Uh…"

Suddenly, the vial tugged up into the air as a slight breeze wafted around them.  It floated around the corner.  

The chanting continued, then one person stopped.  Then another.  Then all of them.

"They saw it," Quintus said through gritted teeth.  "If that doesn't go off the sorcerer will stop it."

There was a shout and then…

All hell broke loose.  The explosion was more powerful than any of them expected, except perhaps Kham, who had his wrists over his ears.  Rocks and smoke spiraled and the cavernous stone structure rumbled all around them.  

Through the haze and confusion, Quintus shouted, "Now Vlad!"

The two marched forward in syncopated step into the blast area.  The warriors were sprawled outward from the blast radius, struggling to regain their feet.   

Quintus stopped after a few steps. "We make our fight here."  He outlined a circle around them with his longspear.  "Let them come."  Then he hunched down behind his shield.

Vlad put his shield arm towards the rubble and waited for the smoke to clear. Behind them, the soft whisper of Ilmarė's voice floated through the darkness.

"Tira nottolya, Nárendur " she sang of facing the enemy, servants of fire.

One of the Nierite warriors stumbled out of the smoke towards them.  Quintus skewered the man on his spear and dragged him closer.  Vlad dispatched him.

"That's one," said Quintus.

Another warrior, seeing the fate of his companion, rushed towards them, forcing Vlad to turn his shield towards him.  They engaged in a series of feints and strikes, the warrior's greatsword against Vlad's longsword and shield.

The sorcerer stepped out of the smoke and pointed. A burst of sparkling red magical energy streaked from his outstretched finger past them. Kham yelped in response. 

A loud retort answered the attack, but the sorcerer clenched one fist and held his wrist before his face.  On his arm was a bracer sculpted in the form of a black heart, shot through with veins and tentacles.  It pulsed as the bullet struck and a black field flickered.  The bullet fell to the ground.

"Tulta tuolya," sang Ilmarė.  She commanded them to summon forth their strength.

Emboldened by her music, Quintus speared another Nierite warrior even as Vlad cut down a third.

"Three down!" shouted Quintus.

The sorcerer pointed and a white ray pierced the smoke.  Kham cursed and fired back in retaliation.  The sorcerer blocked the shot again with one wrist and lifted a pulsing green orb in his other hand.

BLAM!

A red hole appeared in the sorcerer's forehead.  He slumped to the ground. 

"Block THAT!" shouted Kham.  "Meet Melara, a new addition to my harem!"

"An mauya mahtie," sang Ilmarė.  She called upon them to summon forth their strength.

Kham ran over to the left of Quintus and Vlad.  He was clumsily stuffing the last few shots of blackpowder into his handgonnes.

"Kham, what are you doing?  Get back, you're breaking the line!" Quintus shouted at him.  

"I'm trying to get a better shot at the priest!" Kham shouted back.  "I can't see him!"

There was a strange chanting as the Nierite priest, his eyes glowing red with divine fury, stepped out of the smoke.  He stretched out one hand. 

"Vlad, behind me!"

Vlad spun backwards behind Quintus' shield as a wide gout of fire spread from the priest's fingertips.  The flames licked around the large shield.

"Found him!" Kham shouted back. He took aim at the priest.

"Ter oiomornie," sang Ilmarė.  She sang of battling through endless dark. 

BLAM!  The bullet sparked off of the priest's magical defenses.  He whirled and lifted his greatsword, stalking towards Kham.  

"You dare to strike at me? I am filled with the Rage of Nier! You cannot de—" 

"Yeah, yeah," said Kham.  He aimed two of his handgonnes.  

BLAM! BLAM!

The bullets struck true and pierced the priest's breastplate.  But he kept on coming.

"Oh…crap!" shouted Kham as he spun his handgonnes backwards to use them as clubs.

"Ter ondicilyar," sang Ilmarė.  She sang of fighting on through chasms of stone.

Kham crossed the two handgonnes in front of him just in time to block the blow from the priest's huge sword.  It knocked him backwards against the wall.

"Kham's in trouble," shouted Quintus. "Vlad—"

Vlad was still exchanging blows with the last of the Nierite warriors.

"Up to me then," Quintus muttered to himself.  He dropped his longspear as he ran, drawing his gladius. "LETUM INFIRMUS!"

The large sword gave the priest an advantage, but it was an unwieldy weapon. Kham took the opportunity to retaliate by smashing the hilt of the weapon into the priest's jaw.  The blow was strong enough to shatter teeth.

The priest merely spat blood and grinned a bloody grin. 

"You'll have to do better than that."

The priest slapped Kham sideways with his blade.  He landed in a crumpled heap. The priest stalked over to Kham's unconscious body.

Quintus arrived at the scene just in time to block a powerful blow from the priest's two-handed sword.  He used the momentum of his charge to lift the sword up, pushing both of the priest's hands over his head.  Quintus speared his gladius into the priest's unprotected armpit.

The priest fell backwards.  "Guardian of Nier!  To me!" he shouted and then collapsed.

"Mettanna," sang Ilmarė.  She entreated them to fight to the end.

A crackling figure, wreathed in white flames, swung his huge two-handed sword through the air at Quintus' head.  He barely ducked in time.

The holy flames surrounding the Knight of Nier engulfed Quintus' shield as another blow struck.  Quintus struck back, but the bright red armor was masterfully crafted.  The blow bounced harmlessly off the knight's armor.

Another massive swing knocked Quintus' shield out of his hands and left him gasping.  He attempted to parry with his gladius, pitifully small in comparison to the knight's weapon.  The gladius skittered across the ground.  

The knight, with practice born of seeing many combats against both the dead and the living, drew his greatsword back in a precise military stroke.  Then he thrust it forward, skewering Quintus' side.

Quintus looked down in shock at the wavy-edged blade sticking out of his abdomen.  The knight twisted the blade and yanked it out.  Quintus clutched the wound as blood pulsed from it.

"None shall survive the Wrath of Nier!" the knight boomed, his voice echoing deep within his helmet.  He lifted his greatsword up over his head.  All Quintus could do was stare up at the coming blow.

Vlad skidded in front of Quintus and blocked the attack with his shield.  He was hurt, bleeding from a dozen superficial wounds and some more serious internal ones that only his armor prevented from being fatal. 

The Milandisian struggled to catch his breath.  The knight seemed huge, powerful.  His armor had protected him from the blast and he seemed indefatigable.  Vlad's longsword and shield were puny in comparison.

The knight elbowed Vlad back to give him room for another swing.

"Nurunna!" sang Ilmarė.  It was a command: Fight to the death!

Vlad heard the command.  If he was going to die, he would die defending his friends.  

He struck before the knight could swing, cutting down at his opponent's forearms.  The sword slapped point first into the dirt.

The knight was more resourceful than Vlad expected.  He released one hand from the hilt of the greatsword and punched Vlad hard in the face.

Vlad fell backwards, his ears ringing.  The taste of blood was in his mouth.

The knight released the sword and lifted it over his head.  "Now, you die!" 

Suddenly, a warm glow suffused Vlad's body.  He wasn't sure how, but he knew it was the blessing that Quintus had asked to be placed upon him.  Illiir has blessed Vlad, and the deity was with him in his time of need. 

With a renewed surge of energy, Vlad slid forward beneath the knight's legs and thrust his longsword up under the Nierite's breastplate.  There was a strangled groan and blood gushed out of the opening. 

The knight fell forward on top of Vlad, knocking the wind out of him.  

From beneath the heap of armor, he could hear the sounds of armored troops marching in unison.  Then he heard Ilmarė's voice.  

"Well, Helac, your undead troops are a little late."

"Oh, really.  Dat is too bad.  Are your friends dead?"

"No, I think they will all survive."

"Dat is too bad too.  When dey are ready, I vill take you to my dread Lord."


----------



## ledded

Excellent!

Bravo, good update.  Very nice.


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Part 7: Dark Bargains*

As they entered, the smell of decay and mustiness of the ageless seemed to engulf them.  Swirling miniature dust storms formed and died with every move.  Kham sneezed.

The chamber was titanic in its size; large enough to swallow entire buildings whole and still have room left over.  Thousands of scrolls, tomes and books occupied an entire side of the room.

"This library is bigger than the Great Library of Coryan," Quintus whispered, one hand holding his side. 

The other side of the chamber was occupied with table after table of alchemical apparatus and potions.  

"It seems that the Ventaka rulers have enough to keep them occupied for generations without ever stepping foot outside," said Ilmarė.

Helac led them into the chamber and then, bowing deeply, backed out.

In the center of the room was a large screen made of wafer-thin jade.  Backlight by a simple light, a skeletal creature stirred from its repose.  The terror that emanated from it was palpable. 

When it spoke, it was a lethargic croak—part groan, part scream. 

"I am told that you have been instrumental in thwarting the invaders from imprisoning us?"

Elabac cleared his throat after a long pause.  "I am Elabac of Solanos Mor.  I have traveled…through many perils…to meet with you.  I seek…your intervention…in entreating Neroth…to grant me life beyond life."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," whispered Kham.

Quintus hushed him.

"We have heard you, Master Elabac of Solanos Mor," responded the thing behind the screen.  "And what will you offer to us for our prayers on your behalf?"

Elabac looked surprised.  "What can I offer?  I seek this gift…not for personal power…but to help my people."

The creature seemed amused, if that were possible.  "If we are to persuade our Lord to grant you life beyond life, then you will have many years indeed to help your people.  But Ventaka needs you now.  With the betrayal of the Nierites, we will need quality arms to defend ourselves."

"I know where this is going," whispered Kham.

"Pledge to remain here for the next 20 years," the thing said, "and we will do what we can."

Kham took a deep sigh.

"We will need time to prepare.  Wait in the antechamber until you are summoned."

And with that, Helac returned to usher them out.

They were standing in an uncomfortable chamber, filled with the corpses of the dead and not quite dead.  

Quintus was pacing.  "Why are we waiting?  Master Elabac, is this not what we came here for?"

The wizened dwarf seemed startled. "I had not…expected…these turn of events."

"The best laid plans of dwarves and men often go awry," said Ilmarė with a smirk.

"Oh that's very helpful, thank you," said Kham.  "Look, dwarf, I don't like this any more than you do.  What is there to decide?"

Elabac looked thoughtful but said nothing.

Quintus winced, rubbing his wounded side.  "You do realize that we came all this way at your request.  Nearly every one of us died. I swore to see Illiir's will done and I have been true to my word.  Now you must follow through with your part."

Vlad stood in front of Elabac, arms crossed.  "It's a serious decision.  Give Master Elabac some time."

Quintus also crossed his arms.  "I have been skewered, you have been stabbed, and Kham nearly got his brains spilled across the ground twice today.  We have battled Nierites, Reavers and thugs. We have pledged to defend him on this quest and we were true to our word.  Now we are here and he is not SURE if he wants to go through with it?"

A spider dropped down onto Quintus shoulder.  He brushed it off in a huff. "I am a patient man, but enough is enough. This place is disgusting and I want to go home!"

There was a knock at the door.  Everyone turned to watch Helac enter the room with a delicate tea set.  

"I find dat de tea helps one dink clearly."

He handed out teacups of some steaming concoction.  

Kham looked down at his saucer and noticed a note was stuck under it.  He read it quickly

Kham loudly slurped the tea down.  After a beat, he said "Excuse me, I need to pee. I'm going to ask Helac where I can go without accidentally desecrating one of his ancestors' resting places."

Quintus glared at him but said nothing, his arms crossed in one corner of the room. Vlad was talking with Elabac while Ilmarė stared skeptically into her teacup.

Outside, Helac was waiting for him.

"I do not dink your dwarven friend understands de implications of de transformation he is about to undergo."

Kham closed the door behind him.  "Yeah, I know. Life must be a real barrel of laughs when you're half-dead."

The bald man shook his head.  "No, it is not.  Dat is my point.  If Elabac wishes to craft de perfect weapon, he will lose his passion completely."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The bald man's eyes darted to the emerald on Kham's coat.  "I believe ve have much in common, you and I," was all he would say. 

Kham walked back into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Alright, this decision is a bit more complicated than I thought. Upon becoming undead, Elabac will lose his passion and emotion.  Without that passion, he'll never be able to craft the perfect weapon.  Give him 20 years of this depressing place and this whole quest will have been in vain anyway."

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  "You came up with all that just now?"

Kham shrugged. "I do my best thinking when I pee."

"Perhaps you are right…" said Elabac.  "If I lose my passion…my fire…then all that I sacrificed…has been in vain.  Come…let us leave this place of death…and go home."

Quintus smacked his forehead.  "So this truly has all been for naught."

"Not for naught," Vlad reminded him.  "Wait until you see one of Master Elabac's failures in action."


----------



## HalWhitewyrm

Keep em coming, Michael!  

Did you get your player to do more PC portraits? That one for Kham is simply amazing!


----------



## talien

*Bargains of Spirit and Flesh - Epilogue*

They were all seated around a long table carved from solid stone.  It seemed to stretch the length of the entire cavern itself, fading out into darkness at the far end of the table, lit intermittently by tapers that sputtered and hissed.

Quintus hunched over the table, his features shadowed by the candlelight. He hadn't spoken since they had left Ventaka. Kham was sprawled across the table, one leg up on the bench, which prohibited anyone else from sitting next to him.  Ilmarė sat perfectly still next to Vlad, who chewed on something thoughtfully.

"What is this?" he said between bites.

"You are eating a fungus," said Ilmarė.

Vlad nearly choked.

"Mushrooms," Kham said.  "Eat them long enough and they taste like beef."

Vlad took a few more thoughtful chews.  "It really DOES taste like beef!"

Just then, Elabac entered with his entourage.  They escorted him to the head of the table.  Quintus didn't even look up.

"Thank you…my friends…for seeing my task…to its conclusion."

Kham nodded.  "Hey, no problem.  Any time you want to go into Canceri to make a complete—"

Vlad shot him a look.  Kham covered up the conclusion of his sentence by taking a sip from the metal goblet in front of him.

"In gratitude…you may each have…one of my failures."

"We are honored," said Vlad, inclining his head towards the wizened dwarf.  

"Quintus…" began Elabac.

Quintus' head snapped up. 

"We have a guest…from the Coryani Empire…here to see you..."

Before Elabac could respond, a man dressed in lorica segmentata armor stiffly entered the room.  

Quintus stood at attention, nearly tripping over the bench as he did so.  He put his right closed fist over his breast in a salute.

The legionnaire refused to make eye contact with Quintus.  He unrolled a scroll.

"Quintus Aurelius Ignatius," he read out loud, "due to your assistance in resolving the abduction of Senator Tensen-Balin's son, you are invited to attend a hunt at the request of General Menisis val'Tensen, Defender of the Empire."
Quintus blinked.  "It would be an honor for I and my comrades to attend.  We were all responsible for the child's safe return."

The legionnaire snapped the scroll shut and marched back into the darkness.

Vlad looked from Quintus to the spot where the legionnaire had read the scroll.  "What was that all about?"

Kham thrust his chin out in Quintus' direction.  "It's a rank thing," was all he said.

Quintus sat back down, all the anger drained out of him.  He stared thoughtfully into his cup.

Beldin, sitting to Elabac's left, leaned forward.  "Master Elabac wishes to extend his gratitude to the Coryani Empire as well." The young dwarf looked unusually somber. "He would like to send his envoy to deliver a gift on behalf of Solanos Mor."

Elabac gestured with one hand and pointed at a man that no one had noticed before.  His most striking feature was his pale white hair.  The man rose at Elabac's gesture and bowed slightly towards Quintus.  There was a lacquered box in his gloved hands.

"I would be honored to present this gift on your behalf, Master Elabac," he said quietly.

The old dwarf nodded in approval.  

"He doesn't look like a dwarf to me," Kham said to Vlad.  Vlad shrugged.  

"You can call me Sebastian Arnyal," the white-haired stranger responded.

Quintus squinted at the man.  "From whence do you hail, Sebastian?"

There was a moment's pause.  "Canceri," he replied.

Kham shook his head and took another sip of his drink.

Beldin waved at some of the other dwarves standing at attention around the table.  Lacquered boxes snapped open in front of each of them: for Ilmarė, a silvery, thin longsword; for Vlad, a thick-handled longsword; for Kham, a beautifully gilded scimitar; for Quintus, a spear with a silver tip, its three sections laying side by side in the velvet case.

"Wow!" said Kham, fondling the scimitar.  Vlad held the sword before him reverently, stroking the blade.  Ilmarė simply took the box without comment.

Everyone turned to Quintus, who was staring at the open box before him.  After a moment, he closed the box and took it under his arm.

"Very well, Sebastian," said Quintus.  "You may join us."

There was an audible sigh of relief from the dwarves.

"I should like to see my home again," Quintus said.  And with that, he left the table.

"Don't worry about him," said Kham to break the awkward silence that followed.  "It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"I understand," said Elabac.

"You've been given a second chance, dwarf," said Ilmarė.  "Don't waste it."  She followed after Quintus. 

Vlad and Kham exchanged glances.  "Thank you so much for the honor of these weapons," Vlad said, bowing deeply.  "I will wield it with pride." Then he left. 

Kham pushed off the table and rose to make his leave.  Then he changed his mind and grabbed the bottle of wine off of the table.

When Kham was out of earshot, Sebastian turned to Elabac.  "Those were your champions?"


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Introduction*

This next story hour is a home game from the two-part tournament module, "Temptations of the Flesh," written by Henry Lopez and set in the Arcanis setting (thanks Henry!). You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Our cast of characters includes:

·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr2), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Kham Val'Abebi (val Rog2), played by Jeremy Ortiz: http://www.dreamsculptor.com/index1.html 
·	Ilmare Galen (elf Brd2), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin Sor1), played by George Webster.
·	Beldin (dwarf Ftr1), played by Joe Lalumia.

Our DM is Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: http://www.storyboardz.net.  

At second level, there was a real concern that we were all a lot more powerful than we should be.  We learned from the use of blackpowder as an explosive in the last game that burning oil is a really cool thing.  Unfortunately, my old school Second Edition roots did not recognize that alchemist's fire is the better choice.  The use of burning oil nevertheless helped us in a pinch.

The new characters integrate smoothly, although we unfortunately did not have Vlad in this adventure—his disappearance is explained below. Beldin and Sebastian made suitable substitutes, but the adventure was still very tough.  Oddly enough, it wasn't as deadly as the previous adventure.  

In fact, the person who gets really screwed is Kham.  He gets petrified, cursed, and almost eaten by a monster.  We had to use every trick in the book to save him and ourselves.  

If we learned anything in this adventure, it's that our characters suck at dungeon crawls.  They're not too good at political maneuvering either (Quintus tends to be something of a loud-mouthed jerk, but he's learning).  We're really at our best in street brawls.


----------



## Meds

Awesome writing -- keep it coming.   
(That applies to both Mike and the module authors.)


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Prologue*

"How do I look?" asked Vlad, arrayed in the bright red full plate worn by the Knight of Nier.

"You look ridiculous," said Kham.  "Everyone's going to think you're a Nierite."

Vlad stuck his chin out.  "So?  This is the most finely crafted armor I've ever seen.  I can deal with anyone who wants to make an issue of it with this."

He waved a silvery longsword.  It was one of Elabac's "failures." Engraved on the blade was the word "emtavas" and the personal seal of Elabac.

"What does 'emtavas' mean, anyway?" asked Quintus, looking at the same inscription on the blade of his spear.

"It means brother in arms," said Sebastian, entering the room.  He was dressed head to toe in a black coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck—even his hands were covered in fine black gloves. Beldin trailed behind him.

"Sheesh, you must burn easily," said Kham.

Sebastian stared hard at him.  "More than you know," he said.

"Emtavas can also mean friend," said Beldin, smiling sheepishly up at them.  The dwarf was wearing a backpack, with a large battleaxe strapped across it. 

"So, now both of you are coming with us?" asked Quintus. 

"If you'll have me," Beldin responded. "Master Elabac has appointed Maten as his chief apprentice.  There is no longer any need for me to stay in Solanos Mor."  He almost seemed sad.

"So, he's kicking you out because Maten's the better weaponsmith?" Kham was fingering something on his wrist.  "That sucks."

"He's not kicking me out," said Beldin.  "I chose to leave.  I can do much good outside of Solanos Mor's halls."

"Sure, sure.  You're starting to sound like Quintus." Kham jabbed a thumb in Quintus' direction. As he lifted his arm up, the sleeve of his greatcoat slipped down to reveal something metal on his wrist.

"What's that?" asked Vlad.

Kham put his arm down and pulled the sleeve of his greatcoat down further over his left wrist.  "Nothing."

Vlad's eyes narrowed.  "I'm not the only one robbing the dead.  That's the bracers that were on the Nierite sorcerer!"

Kham crossed his arms.  "Fine.  Whatever.  These babies will keep me alive and they're a lot easier to conceal than your armor.  And I still think you look ridiculous."

Vlad shrugged in his armor.  "We're wearing what we need to wear to survive.  That's as good an excuse as any.  What about you two?"

Quintus snorted. "A legionnaire wears only what the Empire supplies him. I'd rather sell the booty than wear it." 

Vlad turned to Ilmarė. "And you, Ilmarė?"

Ilmarė had her back to them. She spun around quickly and tucked the priest's red-gold holy symbol into her blouse. "Nothing of value," she said.

"You do not need to loot bodies when you have Master Elabac's blades. The weapons you have are superior to anything ever crafted in Onara," said Beldin with pride.  "Let me demonstrate."  He put one hand out to Vlad, who dutifully handed over his sword. 

Beldin plucked one long hair from his beard and threw it. It gingerly wafted its way towards the ground.

There was a flash, and then two pieces of hair were floating downward.

Beldin handed the blade back to Vlad.  "It will puncture even Altherian steel," he said, glancing at Kham.

Kham opened his greatcoat to show four holsters, two under his armpits, two at his ribcage.  "You've got to reach me first. Thanks to the money we made off the booty," he tapped the forth gonne's handle, "Alita has joined my happy family."

"We have enough members of our happy family already," muttered Quintus.  "If you two are going to keep up with us, you'll need to carry your fair share of the load."  He paused a beat.  "And Kham's too, come to think of it."

Sebastian looked at Kham in dismay.  "Load?" 

"Menisis val'Tensen is a general in the Coryani Empire.  We should all be on our best behavior in his presence. It is a great honor to be invited to an Imperial Hunt."

"Maybe for you," Ilmarė said under her breath. 

Quintus turned to Ilmarė, hands on hips.  "General Menisis val'Tensen is the Empire's greatest hero.  Many courtiers and sycophants would kill to have the opportunity to attend any function hosted by the great general. It's only because we rescued Senator Tensen-Balin's son that we're invited at all."

Kham rolled his eyes in response.  "Don't worry Quintus, with our new arms and armor, we'll look appropriately heroic. Speaking of which…I don't think we ever got paid—"

Vlad shot him a look.  

Kham hunched down.  "Just kidding.  Tell Master Elabac that the blades are a far better payment."

The dwarf looked at him sideways but said nothing.  

"Learning to ignore these two is a requirement for joining us," said Ilmarė.  "You'll do just fine. Now, for the most important matter at hand: is there anywhere in Marketplace that sells bara lawr bread?"


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 1a: Meeting the Guests*

The trip through the region of Ulfila was both long and arduous.  The region's harsh and unforgiving terrain, filled with treacherous paths and rockslides, kept everyone on their toes.  The caravan had just finished the one-day journey northeastwards, stopping at Nevanne.  

"We'll branch off from the caravan southwards to Val'Tensen estates," said Quintus, staring south at the majestic mountains that slowly trickled into hills all around them. 

"Great.  Anything to get out of these mountains," said Kham.  He looked at Beldin.  "I don't know how you people manage to survive. That place," he gestured with a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Solanos Mor, "is a deathtrap."

Beldin was also peering out at the hills, his bushy brows furrowed.  "I prefer four walls around me to open space.  You know where your enemies and allies are in the womb of the Corlathians.  Out there…" he nodded in the southeasterly direction, "there is nowhere to hide."

After dismounting and gathering enough belongings for a night's stay, they began a search for a suitable inn. Quintus led the way, with Vlad and Ilmarė behind.  Beldin and Sebastian stuck together by followed them at a discrete distance.  Kham sighed and strolled behind them.  

Quintus stood with hands on hips, staring up at the weathered exterior of an unnamed building.  "This place looks as good as any," he said, not entirely convinced.

"It doesn't look any worse than the others," said Ilmarė. 

Kham shoved past them through the entryway. "You know," he said out of the corner of his mouth, "just because we all travel together doesn't mean we have to stay at the same inn."

As he entered, Kham nodded towards a patron who imperceptible nodded back.  

"Been here before?" said Ilmarė, the only one who noticed the gesture.

Kham froze.  He looked sideways at Ilmarė but said nothing.  Then he shoved his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat, shrugging his shoulders as he walked in the opposite direction of the nodding patron.

A longspear blocked his way.  "Kham," said Quintus.  "Stay out of trouble."

"I can take care of myself," Kham replied.  "But you should probably watch out for the rest of your little entourage."

Quintus arched an eyebrow.  Kham nodded over the signifer's shoulder.  

He turned around, only to discover several Milandisian men talking excitedly to Vlad. When Quintus turned back to respond to Kham, he was gone.

After Vlad finished speaking with the men, they filed out of the inn.  He sat down in a huff and ordered a drink from the barmaid.

Quintus sat across from Vlad and waited.

"My Canton has been called up to investigate a disturbance in Ashvan."

"Ashvan?" said Sebastian, joining them.  "That's on the border between Milandir and Canceri.

Vlad's expression was grim. "The Duke has hand picked a crew from my Canton to go, me included."

"Why not send the entire Canton?" asked Ilmarė.

"A large scale military action would provoke Canceri," said Sebastian.  "With the invasion of the Nierites, too many troops could be misinterpreted as a precursor to an invasion."

"Word of your deeds has spread," said Quintus. "It is a heavy burden to bear.  You should go help your people."

Vlad sighed, taking a long swig of his drink.  "The Hunt sounds more exciting.  But you're right, I have to go."  He flashed a wan smile.  "Kill…what are you going to hunt, anyway?"

The blank stares confirmed his suspicion.  "Well, whatever it is, kill it for me. I must leave immediately.  Take care of yourselves." Vlad clasped Quintus' forearm in farewell and waved to the others before he left the inn.

Ilmarė looked after his departure wistfully.  

Quintus nudged her with his elbow.  "I get the feeling you'd rather go with him."

The Elorii looked sideways at her human companion.  "I would take a plague over Coryani politics any day."


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 1b: Meeting the Guests*

It was two days since they had begun to negotiate the trade routes and trails when finally, in the late afternoon hours, the group turned down a barely noticeable path that spilled out into a verdant valley. Just south of Nevanne, the ensconced estates of the val'Tensen lands spread out before them.

There was a whistle behind them, a warning from a hidden sentry. Five heavily armed and armored legionnaires road up shortly after.  Quintus rode ahead to speak with the vanguard. 

"The Legion of the Defiant Shield demands you state your name and business!" shouted the lead legionnaire.

"I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.  I and my companions are guests of the Tensen-Balin family."

The legionnaire squinted at Quintus.  "Signifer, hmm?  What proof do you have of your invitation?"

Quintus reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a wooden box.  He snapped it open, revealing a silver dagger.  

Kham, who had ridden up behind Quintus, leaned over to look at the dagger.  "You kept yours?  I sold mine."

Quintus' glare stopped him from speaking further.

"Follow us," said the lead legionnaire.  He wheeled his horse about as some of the other legionnaires' mounts fell in step with the others.

The legionnaires escorted them to the main entryway of the estate.  Waiting in the doorway was a bald, heavyset man wearing a plain tunic and sandals.  He wordlessly motioned for a couple of young boys to grab baggage and stable mounts.  

Sebastian was having difficulty getting his mount to stand still.  The bald man took the reins.  

"Thank you," said Sebastian as the major domo led his horse away.  The man simply nodded, carefully avoiding Sebastian's gaze.

"Why does he not speak?" asked Sebastian.  "Have I offended him in some way?"

Quintus looked sideways at the Cancerite.  "He is a mute," he responded.  "All servants have their tongues cut out so that they cannot easily repeat what they witness."

"And they call Coryan the cradle of civilization," Ilmarė said in disgust.

They were ushered down a short tiled hallway to a large atrium built in the center of the house.  Four massive-yet-elegant colonnades surrounded a large fountain.  At its center was a huge bronze statue of the storm god Hurrian, his hands spread above him as he captured an arcing lightning bolt.  Seated all around the statue were guests reclining on divans, all of them doll-like in comparison to the statue that towered over them.

A servant was the first to greet them with a silver plate balancing several goblets of wine.  

Quintus led by example, taking a goblet from the plate.  

Kham spotted a fair-skinned young woman across the room, idly playing with her long blonde dresses.  He grabbed two goblets and began sipping from one of them.

"It is customary to sacrifice some wine to the divine patron of the household," hissed Quintus.  

Kham, in mid-sip, spat the wine back into the goblet.  "Now you tell me," he muttered.

Quintus walked up to the fountain, bowed, and poured some of his wine into the fountain. Sebastian and Beldin did likewise.  Ilmarė's lip curled into a sneer as she turned the goblet's entire contents into the fountain.  

Kham looked from his two goblets to the fountain and back to the blonde woman.  He flicked his fingers into one of the goblets and flicked a few droplets into the fountain.  When he looked up again, Sebastian was talking to her.

"Damn," he muttered, scanning the room.

Quintus had joined two other older men.  One wore the long dun-colored robes of the Beltinian clergy.  The other wore a long, dark purple robe that covered him from chin to foot and was adorned with all manner of strange sigils and mystic amulets.

A dark-haired beauty dressed in a diaphanous scarlet toga, cut much too short to be modest, was leaning on a tall, powerfully built man wearing dark breeches and an orange-red tunic that matched his shock of red hair. 

Kham wandered closer to her, pretending to admire the gigantic fountain.  He was listening to several conversations at once.

"I am Elandre Val'assante," said the blonde woman, "the first daughter of Prelate Acastus val'Assante of Coryan."

"I am Sebastian Arnyal of Canceri," he said.  "I could not help but notice that you seem to be very melancholy."

Elandre smiled wanly.  "Sad?  Me?  Not at all, I'm to be wed next month.  I couldn't be happier."

Sebastian smiled politely back.  "To whom, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, to Gaius val'Tensen, the General's nephew."

Sebastian nodded.  "I am not familiar with Coryani politics."

"Gaius is a man of noble birth and rank," Elandre said forcefully. "He shall be a most perfect a most perfect husband."

Ilmarė stood where she was at the fountain.  Beldin joined her, watching the others.  "Not joining the party?" asked Beldin.

"I see and hear enough, dwarf," said Ilmarė.  "That woman that Sebastian is speaking to?  She wears too much makeup.  Do you know why?"

Beldin stroked his beard thoughtfully but said nothing.

"She is trying to cover up a bruise."  She shook her head.  "Human women are weak.  And Kham is eavesdropping on the two lovers there."

Kham hadn't moved from his spot.  He was riveted by the conversation he was listening to, one ear cocked.

"I hear Nierites wield huge swords," said the raven-haired woman, her ruby lips pursed.  She was practically devouring the larger man with her eyes.  "One must possess a strong sheath to contain its full length."

"M-my lady," said the man, obviously flustered, "you flatter me."

"Flatter you?  I can do much more than that." She traced one finger along the man's collarbone.  "Have you ever heard of the Sacrament of the Goddess of Forbidden Pleasures?"

"No. I really shouldn't—"

They were interrupted by Quintus' shouting.

"All religions should be unified under the Mother Church," he said loudly.  "This division is disastrous—look at the Nierite attack on Ventaka!  Unity with the great nation of Coryan will ensure harmony, and religion is no different.  All should return to Illiir's bosom."

"See, here's a man who understands the importance of reintegration," said Morushun val'Ishi,  standing next to Quintus.

"Nonsense," said Garan val'Mehan, his accent betraying his Cancerite origins.  "De Nihang Council has always followed de true path of unity."

Quintus jabbed a finger at the Cancerite.  "Are you implying we are heretics?"

"Not at all," the Cancerite said with a smile on his lips.  "After all, it vas your Patriarch's visdom that initiated dis integration.  Are YOU implying dat his Divine Grace is erring?"

Quintus raised one hand, finger pointing in the air, to make another dramatic point, when the tinkling of a bell echoed throughout the chamber.  It was the major domo, gesturing for them to follow him.

As they began to walk out of the room, Kham handed Beldin and Ilmarė a gold Imperial. 

"What's that all about?" asked Sebastian as he caught up with them.

"Oh, nothing," Kham said, smiling to himself. 

"We were betting on which would happen first: Quintus would start a fight, the Larissan priestess would leave with the Nierite, or that you would insult the lady of the house."

"What part of 'don't tell anybody about the bet' didn't you understand?" said Kham through gritted teeth.

Ilmarė ignored him.  "Stupid human politics," she said.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 2: Of Servants and Gifts*

They were led back into the west wing of the house, up a flight of stairs to the guest quarters.  The quarters of the manse were arranged down a long, "I"-shaped corridor.  Each guest's equipment was delivered to his or her room, along with a servant holding evening attire for the evening.  Once they were settled in, each servant ushered his charge out into the hallway.

"Where are we going?" asked Sebastian nervously.

"It is customary to take a bath before dining," said Quintus, "especially in the presence of Coryani nobility."

Sebastian froze.  

"What's wrong?" asked Kham.

"I…can't take a bath."

"If you ask me, you need one," said Kham. "You spend all that time wrapped up in that black overcoat.  I think you could use a little airing out, if you know what I mean."

The servant tugged at his arm.  Sebastian wouldn't look at him.  "I can't.  I have my reasons."

He ducked back into his room and slammed the door. 

"What's his problem?" asked Kham. 

Sebastian's door slammed shut. "Perhaps he is modest," said Beldin.

Ilmarė walked beside the men as the servants led them on. 

"Speaking of modesty…" said Quintus, his gaze flickering to Ilmarė.  

Ilmarė returned his gaze.  "Don't project your human prudery on me," she said flatly.  "I don't mind bathing in the presence of males."

Kham grinned a wicked grin.  "Neither do we."

The servant tugged insistently on Ilmarė's arm.  "Fine, I will adhere to your ridiculous customs," she said.  And with that, she was led to a separate bath.

A wave of steam and heat greeted her as the servant opened the large wooden door. Inside, large steaming pools of water and a servant girl waited with a horsehair brush.  

Ilmarė disrobed and let loose her long, silver hair from the headband she normally wore.  

"Mind the hair," she said, shaking her tresses out.  "The purple streaks are easy to wash out and hard to dye."  She lifted one handful of hair to demonstrate the purple highlights.

The servant girl nodded mutely and went to work scrubbing her elven charge.

There was a knock at the door.  The female servant handed Ilmarė a large towel and held it up just as another man entered.  

Ilmarė stood up from the bath, stepping beyond the towel.  The intruder averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Yes?" she said after a moment, still dripping from the bath.

"I-I have come with greetings from my master," he said.  "My master understands that since you are Elorii, you may not have brought a gift for your host, as is customary here in the Empire."

Ilmarė's lip curled in a sneer.  "It is true that I am unfamiliar with your customs."

"As such, my master does not wish for you to embarrass yourself this evening.  My master has asked me to bring you a gift fit for the High General."

He extended a small wooden box in her general direction.

Ilmarė snorted and took the box from him.  She opened it and looked inside for a moment.  Then she snapped it shut.

"What is this creature?"

The servant smiled, sneaking a glance at her unclothed form.  "The High General will know."

Ilmarė shook her head.  "I'm sure he will.  And who is this master of yours?"

The servant took a step back.  "I have been instructed not to say," he said.  "My master wishes for you not to feel obligated." And with that, he backed out of the room.

The female servant, having given up on trying to get Ilmarė to cover herself with the towel, offered her evening clothes.  In the distance, Ilmarė's sensitive hearing could make out the bell signaling dinner.

Ilmarė held the clothes up to her body. It was a long woman's tunic, made of two wide pieces of cloth sewn together almost to the top, leaving just enough room for armholes. It was girded once under the breast and, judging from how the servant girl was dressed, was girdled again at the hips.  It was also entirely impractical for combat.

"Stupid human clothing," she said.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 3: Look Who's Coming to Dinner*

Dinner, as it turned out, was to be held in the uppermost floor of the manse.  A large, roofless room offered a spectacular view of the surrounding hillsides.  The view was marred only by ominous storm clouds that loomed overhead, lighting up the sky with flashes of ball lightning.  Thunder rumbled off in the distance and echoed through the dining room, shaking the table such that the tableware tinkled as the guests entered.

Ilmarė's arrival elicited a gasp from the male guests.  She wore a white tunic that covered her from neck to ankle and was fastened at the shoulders with clasps. It wrapped just under her bosom.  A shawl was wrapped around her shoulders and arm.  Ilmarė's almond-shaped eyes and arching eyebrows were further accented by careful application of kohl. Her lips were tinted with alkanet root and ochre. Ilmarė's purple and silver hair was up in a bun held by a net of gold. Pearls adorned her throat and pointed ears. 

"You clean up nice," Kham whispered with admiration.  None of them had ever seen Ilmarė dressed for a social occasion before.

Ilmarė frowned.  She stiffly carried a box in her hands. "These garments are difficult to move in."

Beldin stroked his beard, which had been carefully combed.  He wore a smaller white toga.  Hanging from the end of his beard were several small gold beads in the shape of warrior's faces.  Beldin's long hair hung in ringlets around his shoulders.  

"Actually, I find it quite comfortable," the dwarf replied. 

"I don't," said Sebastian, his eyes darting nervously to and fro.  He wore his toga long enough so that his hands were not visible.  Most notable of all was the complete lack of white hair; Sebastian had donned a gausapa, a wig made of thick black hair.  It covered his ears and framed his face in a fashion similar to Beldin's. He had a wooden box under one arm. 

"I'm with the elf," Kham added, tugging at the sleeve of his toga.  "I'm afraid this toga's going to slip off of me.  Quintus seems to be in his element though."

Quintus walked ahead of them, his focus on the guests already reclining around the table. 

Morushun, the Beltinian Prelate of Enpebyn, was already reclining on a divan near the table.  

"Where are the seats?" whispered Beldin. 

"Welcome to a royal feast in Coryan," said Kham with a smirk.

"Hurrian is pleased this night," Morushun said.  He looked at the High General Menisis val'Tensen, seated at the head of the table. "He sends good portents for his most favored son, the great General Menisis."

Seated at the head of the table was the High General, who loomed over them all even when seated.  His toga picta, entirely purple and embroidered with gold stars, immediately identified him as a victorious general.  Menisis' frosted head of hair and imposing physique were intimidating even when he was relaxed.  The small scar on his left cheek did little to mar the infectious grin that had won the hearts of the citizens of Empire. He stood up to greet his guests.

"Hail High General!" said Quintus.  "I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun." He gestured to each of his comrades in turn. "My companions include Kham val'Abebi of Altheria, Ilmarė Galen of Entaris, Sebastian Arnyal of Canceri, and Beldin of Solanos Mor."

Menisis lifted his goblet in greeting.  "Ah, welcome lady and gentlemen."  His voice rumbled like the thunderheads above them.  "I thank you for honoring our humble home with your presence."

"The honor is ours," said Quintus in measured tones. He smiled.  "Thank you for having us."

Menisis turned to the guests nearest him.  "These brave souls risked life and limb rescuing one of our own from the Harvesters of Ymandragore.  My good cousin, Senator Tensen-Balin, spoke highly of them and felt that their company would enhance our small gathering."

At Menisis' right was a handsome young man with a perpetual scowl on his face.  Built like a warrior, he was slurping loudly from a goblet of wine.  He wore a white toga and tunic with purple bands. Judging from the wine stains on his toga, it was an action he had performed many times that evening.

"Great heroes indeed, uncle.  No need to fawn over them.  "In truth, I believe our good cousin the Senator wishes to spy on our festivities and find out why such prominent members of the Mother Church are…"

One withering glare from Menisis silenced him.  "Gaius val'Tensen is my nephew," said Menisis.  "You've met the others I believe, but for this distinguished gentlemen here." He gestured in the direction of the blonde-haired man. "This is Acastus val'Assante', Illiirite Prelate of Coryan."

Acastus had a noble profile, with piercing gray eyes and curly blonde locks that identified him as a val'Assante.  His long golden robes and large ring in the shape of a sun identified him as a high-ranking priest of Illiir.  He politely inclined his head in Quintus direction.  

Quintus bowed low.  "We are doubly blessed," he said.

Kham rolled his eyes.  

"Now, please," said Menisis, "join us and enjoy our simple repast."

Quintus took a divan to Morushun's right.  Ilmarė sat with perfect posture next to Quintus.  Everyone else took the remaining available divans at the end of the table. 

The first course that the servants brought out was a huge bowl of green, leafy salad.  Ilmarė's expression brightened as the bowl was passed before her.  Beldin frowned.

"No meat?" he whispered to Kham.

"Eventually," Kham said.  

"I've heard much about you all," said Gaius, his singsong voice striking just the right annoying notes, "How goes your transfer from your old legion, Quintus?"

Quintus blanched.  "Slowly," he said.

"Ah yes, what was it?" Gaius put one finger to his chin.  "Oh that's right!  You upstaged a centurion.  Quite an achievement for a man of your rank, don't you think?"

Quintus strained to smile through clenched teeth.  "You flatter me."

"Oh don't thank me, thank Senator Tensen-Balin," said Gaius with a sneer. "I dare say it's thanks to your good deeds that he keeps you in the legion at all!"

Quintus face turned bright red but he held his tongue.

"Speaking of our dear cousin, have you heard the latest gossip from the capitol, uncle?"

Menisis was doing his best to ignore his nephew.   Gaius blathered on. 

"No?  Then let me tell you: he is opposing our glorious Emperor's request for a slight increase in taxation!"

"Our glorious Emperor wants that money to enlarge the Summer Palace in Salantica," said Menisis.  "Senator Tensen-Balin merely believes that the taxes upon our citizens are high enough."

"Expanding an already luxurious villa could be perceived as frivolous in these times," said Acastus.  

Gaius feigned a shocked expression.  "Does not our Emperor deserve to have a few moments of respite from the burden of leading our Empire?  To oppose such a small request is tantamount to treason."

Everyone turned to look at Gaius as he spoke the last word.

"This guy makes Quintus look like an anarchist in comparison," whispered Kham out of the side of his mouth to Beldin.  The dwarf merely nodded.

"We are all his servants, after all," Gaius said.  "I would toil all the harder if I knew that it would give His Glory comfort during his few moments of rest, for I love our Emperor."

Menisis took a deep breath and put down a forkful of salad.  "Given that you have never toiled a day in your life, I'm sure the Emperor is relieved to know that you are now ready to make such a grave sacrifice."

Gaius' response was interrupted by the next course of roasted duck with almonds and assorted vegetables.  

Beldin licked his lips.  "Much better," he said.

"Speaking of loyalty," said Gaius, "I heard the Leonydes val'Vridan led an attack on Ventaka itself.  Is that true, Attalus?"

The redheaded young man that had previously fended off the dark-haired beauty's overtures chewed for a long moment before answering.  "Yes, it is true.  Not all Nierites share the Sword of Heavens' …perspective."

Gaius smiled sweetly.  "Such measured tones from such a tempestuous people! Surely, the slaughter of the Nierites at the hands of some of our guests today speaks volumes about your kin."

Garan cleared his throat.  "Even an invasion can bring about change.  My people have been rallied in a vay dey have never been before.  Indeed, it is largely because of de attack dat I am here—to promote peace and unity amongst all peoples."

Gaius sneered at Garan.  The guests he had hoped to inflame had outwitted him.  

"While we're on the topic of the differences between people, Quintus mentioned you were from Altheria, correct?" Gaius asked, inclining his head towards Kham. "You're quite light-skinned for an Altherian, and a val at that.  I bet you've got some Coryani blood in you. "

Kham's eyes turned to slits.  He put both open palms face down on the table.

"Perhaps you even are a distant member of our glorious val'Tensen clan," continued Gaius. "I know that some of our ancestors dallied with their servants."

"Kham…" Quintus warned.

Just then, the raven-haired beauty stood up and bowed towards Menisis.  "If I may?"

Menisis nodded back at her.  Everyone stopped talking as the room's attention focused on her. 

"Who is that?" asked Beldin.

"Oriena val'Sheem, a Larissan priestess," said Kham, still glaring in Gaius' direction.

Oriena stepped away from the table and began inscribing a holy circle of prophecy about her on the stone floor with a consecrated piece of red chalk.  One of Oriena's servants in one corner of the room began rhythmically beating a drum. 

Oriena's practiced hands finished inscribing the intricate circle.  She grabbed a goblet filled with fine Savonan wine and held it up to the heavens.  Then she began to sway within the mystic confines of the circle, moving slowly at first to the pace of the drum and slowly increasing, faster and wilder. 

With each sultry movement of her arms, swaying of her hair, and bucking of her hips, some wine sloshed out of the goblet inside the inscribed mystical circle.  The drumming and dancing reached a frenetic pace, entrancing everyone at the table.  Kham caught himself tapping his foot to the rhythm.

The music finally reached a fever-pitch crescendo.  Oriena twirled so quickly she became a blur of black and scarlet.  Then, with a final loud beat, it was over.  The priestess lay in the exact center of the circle, folded up like a pre-morn rose, her long black hair splayed about her like a gigantic spider's web.

Everyone caught their breath, waiting expectantly for what would come next.  

"What is she doing?" asked Ilmarė.

"She is a Larissan priestess," said Quintus.  "She is reading the spills and splashes of the wine in the circle to divine her prophecy."

Ilmarė crossed her arms as Oriena rose from the center of the circle.  Her eyes rolled back in her head as she spoke in a strangely masculine voice.

"Hail the High General of the Empire.  Hail the conquering hero.  The wailing of the vanquished shall be your heralding and the throne shall be your spoils."

And with that, Oriena dropped to the floor like a marionette whose strings had suddenly been severed.

The all-pervading silence of the room was shattered by Gaius' nasally whine.  "It looks like your liberation of Milandir will be successful.  Best to keep your eyes upon that throne, great uncle, for the other is beyond your reach."

A strained smile crossed over Menisis' face.  "Blood is only so thick, dear nephew."

Oriena resumed her seat at the table as the main course was served.  It was roasted wild boar with an assortment of roots and vegetables. Beldin rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"What, don't they feed you in Solanos Mor?" asked Kham.

"Not like this!" said Beldin as a servant sliced two, then three, then four slices of meat onto his plate.

At the other end of the table, Garan spoke in the tongue of Canceri to Sebastian. "It is good to see one of our own here," he said with a smile. 

"I was not present for the rescue of the Senator's son," responded Sebastian in the same tongue. "I have come on behalf of Master Elabac to present a gift to the High General."

Garan nodded, still smiling.  He switched to common. "As have I.  But dat does not diminish our presence amongst dese honored guests.  Your accent is very good.  How long have you lived in Canceri?"

Sebastian's lips became a grim line.  "Too long.  I have traveled much.  I was staying with the dwarves in Solanos Mor prior."

"Ah.  Dat explains it.  And yet, you seem reluctant.  Is everything alright?"

Sebastian attempted a smile.  "I can sympathize with the boy's dilemma," he said in Cancerite.

Garan winked at him.  "I understand, say no more," he replied in the same tongue. "There are no Harvesters here."

Sebastian's gaze flickered to Gaius.  "But there are plenty of snakes."

Garan smiled politely. "And now, it is time to present our gifts."

Garan reached behind his divan and pulled out a box. He looked to Acastus, who did likewise.  Morushun and Oriena followed suit.  

Sebastian took out his own box.  He arched a questioning eyebrow as Ilmarė did the same.

Acastus stood up and approached Menisis.  "I bring greetings from Coryan.  Please accept this gift as a small token for your generous hospitality."  The servants opened the box and Acastus lifted from it a glittering gold chalice.  It was inscribed with benedictions to Illiir.  Menisis smiled and nodded.  

"Uh, what are they doing?" asked Kham.

Quintus' eyes were wide.  "It is a gift ceremony," he hissed through gritted teeth. 

"Do we have a gift?"

"No," Quintus said ruefully. 

Morushun stood up next.  "I bring greetings from Enpebyn," he said.  "Please accept this gift as a small token for your generous hospitality."   Morushun reached into his box and produced a large ring mounted with a topaz opal.  Menisis graciously accepted it.

"Aren't you supposed to know these sorts of things?" asked Kham. "Everyone else knew to bring a gift. The Cancerite has his.  Hell, even the elf brought something. Maybe she can present it on behalf of all of us."

Beldin shrugged.  "Sebastian presents on behalf of Solanos Mor, so that will be my gift as well."

Garan approached Menisis.  "I bring greetings from Nishanpur," he said.  "Please accept this gift as a small token for your generous hospitality."  He presented a Sarishan dagger, gilded in silver.

Quintus looked over at Ilmarė.  "Where did you get that gift?"

Ilmarė didn't look at him, her attention focused on the gift-giving ceremony.  "A servant gave it to me during the bath."

Oriena sashayed over the Menisis.  "I bring greetings from Savona," she husked.  "Please accept this gift as a small token for your generous hospitality."  She bowed and spread her arms. A dozen female servants stepped forward, all clad in very short tunics.

"Oh man, the priestess just gave him twelve girls!" Kham exclaimed in hushed tones. "How are we supposed to beat that?"

"What's in the box?" asked Quintus.

"A beast of some sort, carved of green stone," she said, rising to her feet.

It was Sebastian's turn.  He swallowed hard and rose to his feet.  

"I bring greetings from Solanos Mor," he said, his voice unsteady.  "Please accept this gift as a small token for your generous hospitality."   He bowed low and presented the open box to Menisis.  Menisis gingerly took a silver gladius from the box.  The word "emtavas" was etched on the blade.

"A worthy gift indeed," said the general. He personally handed it to one of his servants, impressed.

"Another one of Elabac's failures," said Kham.  "Great."

Sebastian returned to his divan.  

"You did well," said Beldin with an encouraging smile.

Sebastian turned to Ilmarė.  "Your turn," he said.

Ilmarė made her way over to Menisis.  Quintus matched her stride for stride. 

"What kind of beast?" he whispered.

"I'm not familiar with it," she said.  "It has great tusks, with large ears, and a long trunk."

They were both standing before the general.  He stared at them expectantly. Ilmarė started to open the box…

Quintus slammed it shut.

"I must apologize, General.  We have no gift."

Ilmarė turned to Quintus.  "What?  But-"

"Later," Quintus hissed.  They awkwardly backed away from Menisis and returned to their divans.

There was an uncomfortable pause, broken only by Gaius' snort of derision.  Then Menisis rose to his feet and raised his goblet to his guests.  "Thank you all for your generosity. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening."

Menisis left the room. The other guests trickled out after him.

"What was that all about?" asked Ilmarė, irritated in the hallway in front of her quarters.  

"That statue is of an elephant," Quintus said.  He seemed more exhausted from the dinner than she had seen him in any battle.

"And?"

"Queen Alezha gave the Emperor the very same gift upon her arrival to the Empire. Giving it to the High General would imply that he is having an affair with the Queen."

"Better to be slightly embarrassed by presenting no gift at all," said Sebastian behind them, "than to give that to our host."

Sebastian and Beldin disappeared into their own rooms.

"Quintus," said Ilmarė, "I…"  

Quintus held up one hand.  "It's alright.  I know you are well traveled, but you can't be expected to know every nuance of Coryani custom.  Someone tried to manipulate you to get us all thrown out.  We will have to remain extra vigilant."

"Oh, I intend to," said Kham before he shut the door to his own room.

Ilmarė was still searching for words as Quintus turned on his heel and walked into his room.  The door thudded softly behind him.

The Elorii bit her lip, her hands balled into fists.  "Stupid human customs!" she snarled.  Then Ilmarė stomped into her room.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 4: Strangers in the Night*

Kham waited patiently until Quintus's snoring fell into the steady pattern that indicated deep sleep.  Fortunately, Kham's dwarven neighbor on the other side of his room was easier to monitor—Beldin nearly shook the foundations with his snoring.

He tiptoed over to his holsters and strapped them on.  Kham had changed into his usual pants and shirt; he had no intentions of sleeping that night.   He then strapped his scimitar onto his belt and shrugged on his overcoat.

Kham rubbed his forehead.  The others were out of their league, more accustomed to facing their foes than having to look over their shoulders.  Kham, on the other hand, had been looking over his shoulder since he was born.  Someone had manipulated Ilmarė and he intended to find out who.  

If only he could stop his headache.  Kham had suffered from hangovers before, but this was different.  He took another swig of a goblet of wine near his bed.  The wine didn't deaden the pain; it just made him care about it less.

Kham slowly opened the door to his room, mindful of it squeaking too loudly.  After he stepped into the hallway, it took an eternity to push the door silently back into place. There was a click behind him.

A young man in servant's garb had just rounded the corner.  Kham didn't release his hand from the door's handle, feigning as if he was about to enter rather than leave his room.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the servant. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Kham's eyes darted everywhere.  "That's alright," he said.

There was a long pause. "I thought I heard someone walking about and came to investigate."

"Well, that would be me," said Kham.  "I think the fresh air did me some good," he said with a slight smile. 

More uncomfortable silence.  "Well, if you'll excuse me, I must report back to the Major Domo."

"Right," said Kham.  He stepped back into his room and closed the door.  

Kham listened to the man's footsteps pad away into the distance. When they were inaudible, he slumped against the door in relief.

"Whew!"  That was too close.  Kham wondered what it was the servant thought he heard.

Then he remembered: none of the servants in the manor could speak because none of them had any tongues!

Kham flung the door open and stuck his head out into the hallway.  There was no sign of the servant.

He ran into the hallway.  A figure disappeared down another hallway to his left. 

Kham jogged back to Beldin's room and hammered on the door.  "Wake up, dwarf!  Get Quintus!  I think you should take a look at this!"

The snoring stopped for a second, started again, and ended with a "zzzzzwha?"

Satisfied that he the dwarf would eventually wake up, Kham ran down the same hallway the servant had taken.  He came skidding to a halt at the end of it.

Doors branched off the hallway, but none were placed at the end.  Only a small table and a vase filled with white flowers greeted him.

"Has to be a secret door here somewhere…" he said to himself.

Kham leaned forward, holding onto the vase so that it wouldn't tip over as he peeked behind the table.  

There was a brief grinding sound and then the wall swung backwards into darkness. Kham mentally congratulated himself as he stepped into the dark secret passage. 

Then something happened, something that had never happened before. 

A deafening high-pitched buzzed screamed through his brain. Kham's headache flared so brightly that he was momentarily blinded.  Everything was bathed in a stark white light.  He saw, in the unbearable brightness, a white shadow of an arm bearing a wicked-looking dagger.  It sliced downwards towards his head…

And then he was back in the darkness.  Kham dropped to the ground and felt the same wicked dagger slice across his shoulder blades instead.  He tumbled to his feet and unsheathed his scimitar in one smooth motion.  

The servant lunged at him, but Kham was ready. There was another flash of whiteness, and Kham watched in fascination as the faux servant feinted a dodge to the left but struck at Kham's left side.  Then he was back in the darkness of the tunnel and the servant was dodging left.

Kham casually stuck his scimitar out, looking dumbstruck at the weapon as the servant impaled himself on it.  The look of shock was mirrored on both their faces. Kham had no idea just how sharp his scimitar was.  He felt no resistance as the blade slid through the man's torso like butter.

The servant was lying dead on the floor when several legionnaires of the Defiant Shield arrived, led by a half-dressed Quintus. 

"What happened?" he asked, tucking his tunic in.

Kham winced.  There was a bloodstain—his blood—smeared behind him on the wall he was leaning against.  

"An assassin is my guess," he nudged the corpse with his boot and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the alcove behind him. 

Ilmarė, wrapped in a white robe with her hair down, inspected the alcove.  She looked considerably different from her appearance at the dinner. 

The alcove had a glass tube with a rubber bulb attached at one end to a small peephole. Ilmarė leaned forward on her toes, removed the tube, and squinted through the hole. 

"Attalus val'Virdan is asleep in that room," she said.  

Ilmarė popped the bulb off of the tube and some powder flaked out of it.  She dipped one pinky into the powder and tasted it.  

"Helvasta," she said.

"Helvasta?  Are you sure?" asked Quintus.

"Yes.  It's a strong hallucinogenic.  It induces paranoia and homicidal madness after enough exposure."

Quintus' expression was grim.  "That powder is used by Larissan priestesses for some of their religious ceremonies."

He exchanged looks with one of the legionnaires, who wordlessly marched off to retrieve Oriena. 

Kham took off his overcoat and shirt and began wrapping his torso with strips of cloth.  

"What were you doing up fully dressed anyway?" asked Beldin, his beard unkempt and his eyes puffy with sleep.

Kham looked over at the legionnaires, who were watching him curiously. "You know an awful lot about poisons," he said to Ilmarė, quickly changing the subject.

"Of course," Ilmarė replied.  "It is just one more tool to use in the War."

"What war?" asked Kham. 

"The Final War.  When the Elorii shall avenge themselves on the Gods of Man and their servants."

Quintus looked bewildered.  "The Gods of Man?"

Sebastian finally arrived, wrapped tightly in a robe with his hands buried in its pockets. Trailing behind him was Attalus, rubbing his eyes. 

The legionnaires brought Oriena in, hands on her elbows.  She shouldered them off.  

"Brutes!" she hissed. "I don't know why you dragged me here!"

"We found Helvasta in this bulb here," said Quintus, holding it up in the torchlight. 

Oriena strode over to Quintus.  He was careful to look her in the eyes—her sleepwear was especially revealing. She dipped one pinky into the bulb and sucked on it, her eyes closed.

Quintus swallowed hard.

"This is not mine," said Oriena. She opened her eyes and pointed at the assassin's body. "And I have never met that man before in my life."

"He's not one of your servants?" asked Kham.

"No.  My servants are all much more attractive than that brute. Besides, why would I try to drive Attalus mad?  I have nothing to gain from it."

Attalus nodded in agreement.  "I believe you.  Someone wished to show a Nierite to be the reckless brutes we are all perceived to be.  But who?"

Quintus looked down at the corpse.  "We may never know."  

The legionnaires escorted everyone back into the hallway and removed the body.  Beldin peeked out one of the hallway window slits.  "There are horses and a carriage outside.  Is someone leaving?"

"The General received urgent orders to leave for Coryan at once," said another of the legionnaires. 

"Convenient," muttered Kham. 

"I recommend that all the delegates sleep under armed guard tonight," said Quintus.  The legionnaires nodded. 

Oriena pouted and looked around the hallway. "And whom shall I sleep under tonight?"  She licked her lips.

Ilmarė rolled her eyes as the other men sputtered and looked away.  Oriena sidled up to Sebastian.

"Perhaps you will protect me?" she asked, entwining her arm around Sebastian's elbow. 

Sebastian smiled slightly.  "I really should get some rest."

"It's okay," she whispered into his ear, "I don't mind your ta-"

Sebastian shushed her and walked stiffly into his room.  Oriena gave everyone a sly smile and slipped after him, closing the door behind her.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - The Royal Hunt*

"By the grace of Althere!" shouted Kham, slapping his forehead at the spectacle before them.

Gaius was astride the lead horse, a hunting horn dangling at his side. A flagpole jutted from a holster by his foot, clearly identifying him as the leader of the morning's hunt. Everyone but Sebastian was astride their own mounts.

Kham struggled to retain any expression other than horrified shock. "Oh look, EVERYONE'S here."

Quintus' upper lip was twitching.  "Why Kham, how good of you to join us," he said through gritted teeth.  "Gaius will be leading the hunt today in place of the High General."

Sebastian was struggling to keep mount his horse, which was bucking violently away from him.  Oriena ordered her servants to help him, but the mount was giving them considerable trouble.  From a distance, Attalus watched with bemusement. 

"The priests send their apologies," said Gaius over is shoulder.  "They say there is still much to discuss between them before they travel to Coryan."

Kham smoothly mounted his steed even as Sebastian finally got his horse under control. 

"What of Elandre?" asked Sebastian.

Gaius shot him a glare.  "It is unseemly for a woman of such high noble birth to participate," he said.  "Women of lesser birth are of course welcome to do as they please."

Ilmarė narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.  

Gaius kicked his horse into a trot.  "We will have to travel beyond the estate lands.  It is only there that we shall find our quarry."

"Isn't that Ulfilan territory?" asked Quintus.

"Oh I'm sure the Ulfilan Governor won't mind," Gaius said with a sneer.

"And just what is our quarry, exactly?" asked Kham.

"Why, the Howling Bear, of course," said Gaius.

Kham looked at Quintus, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

"For those of you who have never been on a royal hunt before, I suggest you keep a tight grip on the reins," said Gaius.  "It can get…exciting. Try not to soil my mounts."

And with that he kicked his horse into a gallop and disappeared into the woods.  Quintus stared daggers in Gaius' direction but rode off after him.  

The woods were surprisingly temperate.  The surroundings were lush and full of life.  

Ilmarė looked around.  "Osalian is pleased."

"You mean Hurrian," said Gaius. 

"No," Ilmarė responded levelly, "I mean Osalian."

The songs of a hundred different birds joined seamlessly to create a soothing serenade.  

Beldin was looking all around him.  "I don't like this."

"You're just not used to being outside," said Kham.

"No, it's not that.  The screeching.  All that noise.  Don't they ever stop?"

"He's more accustomed to the sounds of bats," said Sebastian.  "At night, their squeaking can be quite beautiful."

Kham sighed.  "You two need to get out more.  Seriously.  Speaking of getting in touch with nature, haven't you ever seen a horse before, Sebastian?  You seem to be having problems with your mount."

"There are not many horses in Solanos Mor," Sebastian said, staring off into the distance.  

"While we're on the subject of unique perspectives," said Quintus, "where did you get those lenses?"

Kham adjusted the round tinted glasses he was wearing.  He silently mouthed back "hangover."

Quintus arched an eyebrow but nodded. 

Ilmarė pulled her horse alongside Gaius'.  "This bear…does it howl?"

"No, it purrs." Gaius rolled his eyes. "Of course it howls, why do you think we call it the Howling-"

"DOWN!" Ilmarė shouted and launched herself at Gaius.  They tumbled to the ground as a javelin whistled through the air where he had been sitting.

"Alarm!" shouted Quintus as he spun to spot the attackers.  "It's an ambush!"

Several things happened at once. Another javelin suddenly jutted from Oriena's shoulder, pirouetting her off her mount.  Sebastian's horse bucked and tossed its rider.  Gaius screamed like a frightened child and grabbed hold of his mount as it galloped off, half-dragging him into the foliage.  

"Dismount!" shouted Quintus.  "Keep your back to your horse!" He grabbed his shield from the saddle and landed roughly on his feet, spear at the ready. 

A loud keening wail erupted from all around them.

"I don't suppose that's the sound of the Howling Bear?" asked Kham as he slid off his horse, both handgonnes at the ready.

"Not unless the bear learned to use javelins!" Ilmarė shouted back as she landed on her feet with an arrow knocked in her bow.

A javelin clanged off of Quintus' shield.  "Too many to count, take your targets where you find them!"

Ilmarė loosed an arrow and something wailed in response.  "Now there's one less."

Another javelin sliced through the air and pierced the flank of Kham's horse.  As it bucked and galloped off, the protruding javelin shaft smacked Kham in the back of the head.

"Ow!  Whose stupid idea was it to stand with our back to the—"   

Out of the woods swarmed brutish humanoids with bright blue noses and reddish faces, waving longswords over their heads. 

"Hobgoblins!" shouted Ilmarė.

"Hold the line!" Quintus shouted back.  He looked over his shoulder.  "Where's Beldin?"

Just as the hobgoblins crashed into them, Beldin galloped his horse into their midst with his axe held high.  A tufted head and a gout of blood launched into the air as he passed.  

The hobgoblins milled about in disarray after Beldin crashed disappeared into the woods.  "I thought he never rode a horse before," said Kham.  He squeezed the trigger and tree bark exploded next to a hobgoblin.

Quintus speared a hobgoblin through the side as it charged at him.  He struggled to remove the longspear and then gave up as more hobgoblins closed, drawing his gladius instead.

"Switch to blades!" shouted Quintus.

"Not…" Kham shouted as a hobgoblin charged straight towards him.  He aimed carefully at the hobgoblin's head and pulled the trigger just as it reached him.  There was a burst of red and black smoke and the headless body collapsed at his feet. "Yet!"

Beldin managed to navigate his mount through the thicket of woods and was coming around for another charge.  Attalus and Sebastian stood protectively over Oriena's body.  They were surrounded by four hobgoblins.

Quintus lurched over to Kham, covering him with his shield.  "Attalus needs our help."

"Our help?  The ladies and I do just fine, thanks," Kham said, pulling two more handgonnes out of their holsters by his ribcage.  "Just stay out of my way."

A hobgoblin stuck his head around the shield and Quintus thrust his gladius at it.  Kham took aim…

BLAM! BLAM! 

Two hobgoblins fell even as Attalus dispatched another.  The fourth pressed hard against Sebastian, who had only a dagger to defend himself. 

There was a flash and the last hobgoblin fell forward on its face. Ilmarė stood over the corpse, her sword dripping with hobgoblin blood.

And then it was over.  Hobgoblin corpses lay all around them.  

"Oriena's hurt," said Sebastian with concern. 

The Larissan priestess was unconscious, with a javelin protruding from her shoulder.  Her left leg was at an odd angle. "She may have broken her leg as well," said Quintus.  "Stand back."

He placed his palms on Oriena's forehead.  "Illiir, iuvo sana sua vulna levis." Golden light encircled her form for a moment.

Quintus grabbed the javelin and pulled it out of her shoulder.  She gasped in pain but did not awaken.

"Keep pressure on the wound," said Quintus to Attalus.  "She'll live, but someone will need to take her back to the estate."

Sebastian was about to volunteer when Attalus stepped forward. 

"I will," said Attalus, clutching one arm. "I'm no good to you anyway, I've hurt my sword arm."

Kham was reloading his handgonnes.  "Actually, you hurt is probably more useful than Sebastian…" He caught Quintus' disapproving gaze.  "Look, why don't we all go back to the estate?"

"Because he is General Menisis' nephew," said Quintus, saddling up on his mount.  "And I'm sure there will be a reward if we return him alive."

"I doubt he would do the same for us," said Ilmarė, gazing in the direction where Gaius had fled. 

"I think the 'glorious val'Tensen clan' can take care of its own," Kham added.

"Go if you want," said Quintus.  "I am duty bound to protect the citizens of Coryan.  Gaius, regardless of how I personally feel about him, is under my protection.  It is my honor to serve all citizens of Coryan," he looked over at Kham.  "That includes you."

Kham spat.  "Well…I'm going to need another horse."

Quintus' expression brightened.  "Kham, you ride with Beldin.  Sebastian, you ride with me."

Beldin put out one hand.  Kham sighed and took it, saddling up behind Beldin. "Great, I get to ride with the guy who's afraid of birds."

"Ilmarė, can you track him?" Quintus asked.

Ilmarė sniffed.  "Simple enough," she said. "We can just follow the trail of slime." And with that, she took off at a gallop.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Introduction*

This is the second part of the tournament module, "Temptations of the Flesh," written by Henry Lopez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Our cast of characters includes:

·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr2), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Kham Val'Abebi (val Rog2), played by Jeremy Ortiz: http://www.dreamsculptor.com/index1.html 
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf Brd2), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin Sor1), played by George Webster.
·	Beldin (dwarf Ftr1), played by Joe Lalumia.

Our DM is Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: http://www.storyboardz.net.  

We played both of these adventures back to back in one long marathon session.  The problem is that the session didn't actually break up that way for our characters—we did not have a day to rest.  That means any spells Quintus and Ilmarė already cast we're not coming back for the second major battle.  

I should note that what you see in the story is only the relevant pieces that are entertaining.  Although I'm a hard-core role-player, I'm not stupid…Quintus buffs up just about everybody with every spell and power he has before a combat.  The problem, of course, is that I wasted all that at the end of the last act of the first module. In other words, I correctly guessed that we were at the "boss fight" at the end, but I didn't realize we'd keep going right into the second adventure.

This means Quintus has to basically rely on his legionnaire skills exclusively.  So it's a good thing he's talented enough to play multiple roles. Conversely, Sebastian saved his spells until he knew he could use them best—when facing large groups.  In fact, our characters didn't know he was a spell caster until the second part of the adventure!

Man, am I glad we bought burning oil.

Finally, Kham got himself into real trouble in the second part.  Most of this has to do with his secret society connections that we've been hinting at since the beginning (although Ilmarė is far too observant to not notice something is up).  Sebastian also has his own secret motives that will eventually be revealed and are relevant to our past.

By the last battle, things were getting desperate.  Quintus and Ilmarė were tapped and Sebastian took a real risk in casting spells up front.  Kham overreached (in typical Kham fashion) and it nearly got him killed.  But in the end, we survived…just barely.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Prologue*

The tracks went on for a few leagues, running alongside a small stream that led them out of the forest.  The forest's edge ended abruptly at rocky terrain. They had dismounted and Ilmarė was carefully studying the ground before them.

"The tracks lead this way," said Ilmarė. "But once they leave the forest, I'll lose the trail."

"We're not even sure that this is the right way," said Kham.  "I still think we should have followed the horse tracks."

"They were the tracks of a human.  Or a Val," said Ilmarė, glancing up at Kham.  "Several pairs of them, with twin rows as if someone was being dragged."

"Sounds like brave and noble Gaius fell victim to another ambush. Maybe he'll be dead by the time we get there," muttered Kham. "If we ever find him."

"I don't think we have to look any further," said Beldin, pointing at the mountainside.

Nestled in the crook of two outcroppings was an ancient looking fortress, heavily damaged from rockslides and avalanches of ages past.  The eastern portion of the building appeared to be completely caved in under the weight of the rocks.  The top section of a tower lay strewn before it, as did countless smaller stones and boulders.  A small waterfall cascaded next to the building, feeding the small stream. 

"What is this place?" asked Quintus.

"Looks like an Auxunite structure, from the later dynasties," said Beldin, squinting in the direction of the fortress. "Portions of it have been recently excavated. My guess is that most of it still lies entombed in the earth below."

"Auxunites?" asked Sebastian.

"Barbarians that came from the north, before the time of the raising of the Wall of the Gods," Beldin replied. "They ruled a large area through tyranny and mayhem until the val'Tensen family finally overthrew their rule." 

Ilmarė hissed a warning. They all crouched down behind some boulders.  

"More hobgoblins," she pointed one slender finger towards tiny figures walking slowly back and forth in front of the fortress.  "There."

"Alright," said Quintus, "we'll take them by-"

There was the sound of thundering hooves as Beldin galloped passed them.

"Where is HE going?" shouted Quintus.

"To bring the battle to the enemy, of course," said Sebastian matter-of-factly.

"Fool! He just cost us the element of surprise!"

BLAM!

Kham was standing over a small boulder with one of his handgonnes smoking.  He aimed the next one. Ilmarė knocked an arrow.  

"No help for it now," she said as she released the arrow and a hobgoblin collapsed in the distance.

A cloud of dirt billowed up as Beldin connected with the enemy.  After a moment, it seemed as if Beldin was retreating.

"That's not Beldin," said Ilmarė. It was a hobgoblin on horseback, galloping towards them.

Quintus shook his head and grabbed his longspear roughly.  "He's lucky if he doesn't get himself killed! I'll take care of this one."

The legionnaire stood in front of the largest boulder, shield at the ready.  Quintus held his longspear up high as the rider, a hobgoblin of some rank, descended upon him.  He held in his right hand a long, serrated sword filled with jagged edges, each as long as a dagger.  The leader swung the sword over his head as he closed in.

BLAM!  The bullet ricocheted off of his chainmail armor.  He kept coming.

An arrow glanced off of the hobgoblin's shoulder.  He kept coming.

Just as the hobgoblin was within range, Quintus lowered his spear and butted it against the boulder behind him.  Unstoppable force met immovable object as the momentum of the hobgoblin's charge drove the longspear through his shoulder.  His horse whinnied and fell to the side even as the rider was torn out of the stirrups and lifted into the air. 

Quintus let got of the spear as the hobgoblin crumpled into a bloody pile of chainmail.  He turned to Sebastian.

"Now, as I was-"

"Look out!" Sebastian shouted, eyes wide.

There was a blinding flash of pain as Quintus's left shoulder was almost torn out of its socket.  The serrated blade tore through his lorica segmata and bit deep into flesh, cutting into muscle. The hobgoblin leader had dragged himself up the length of the spear and attacked Quintus from behind.

Quintus yelped as he fell to the ground.  He brought his shield up, but to no avail.  The leader put one foot on Quintus' shield, pinning him beneath it.  The hobgoblin pointed the end of his sword at Quintus' nose.

"Flesh Ripper shall feast on your face," he said through fanged teeth.

Then an arrow sprouted from his eye.  The hobgoblin staggered backwards, clutching his face.  He fell backwards in a spray of ichor, the shaft of the arrow sticking straight up into the air.

Kham walked over to Quintus, who was still prone since the attack. The legionnaire twitched beneath his shield as Kham lifted it off of him.  

What he discovered beneath the shield made him gasp: Quintus' arm was drenched in black blood.  The wound pulsed with a life of its own.

"Quintus is hurt, bad," said Kham.  "I don't have any-"

"Stand back," said Ilmarė.  She put her hands on Quintus' bloody wound.  "Nesta lim haru!" 

A soft purple glow flowed from Ilmarė's hands into Quintus' arm.  When it dissipated, the blood was gone and a long, ugly scar was all that remained. 

Quintus' eyes fluttered upon. "Apology accepted," he said with a brief smile. Ilmarė blinked back at him in surprise. She smiled uncertainly back at him.

"You can heal?" asked Kham.  "Why didn't you say something before?"

"You never asked," she said.

Kham shot her a glare and picked up the hobgoblin's sword. "What the hell kind of weapon causes a wound like that?"  

Quintus struggled to his feet.  "A coward's weapon.  Leave it."

Kham's eyes lit up.  "I think we should hold on to it," he said quickly.  "In case your wound festers again."

Quintus was about to say something when Beldin returned, his axe dripping hobgoblin blood.  "The way is clear, but I think we alerted the guards."

"Ya think?" asked Kham, shaking his head.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 1: Into the Breech*

"Okay, Beldin and I are in front.  Sebastian, you stay in the middle.  Kham, Ilmarė, you bring up the rear."

The ancient entrance before them was circular in style, its wooden door having long since rotted away into dust centuries ago. It was stylized with the bas-relief of a large, sinewy reptile. 

Quintus advanced cautiously, shield up and spear out.

"That's strange," said Kham. 

"What?" asked Quintus over his shoulder as he continued into the entryway.

"There's no debris on the floor."

"So?"

"I don't know…are hobgoblins known for their cleanliness?"

Ilmarė snorted.  "Hardly."

"Then why is the floor so—"

There was a yelp and Quintus and Beldin disappeared into a dark pit.  Sebastian peered over the edge.

Quintus was holding onto his spear with both hands, the ends of which spanned—barely—the length of the pit.  Beldin hung from one of his legs.  Wicked looking spikes sparkled in the torchlight, twenty feet below them.

"Amazing construction," said Beldin, looking down.  "It must work on a clockwork mechanism.  Old, but effective."

"I could use a little help here!" shouted Quintus.

After Quintus and Beldin were safely at the bottom of the pit, everyone else rappelled down one side and climbed up the other.  

"This time, you go first," Quintus said to Kham.  "This is not my element.  I'm best on an open battlefield."

Kham sniffed.  "What makes you think it's my element?" He pointed to Sebastian and Beldin.  "Why don't you put Tall and Stumpy in charge.  They're accustomed to living underground."

"What did you call me?" asked Beldin indignantly.

"You may want to take a look at this," said Ilmarė from further down the hallway.  She was standing near a circular opening on the left.  

A faded mural of a viper covered the entrance to the chamber.  The viper had its jaws wide open, giving the illusion of walking into the creature's mouth.  

Quintus cautiously stepped inside.  Ilmarė followed.  

Rough sleeping mats made of dirty straw were strewn haphazardly about the area.  Leftover meals of meat swarmed with vermin.  A banner covered a mosaic along the northern wall, depicting a serrated tongue on a field of black.

"So it's the Serrated Tongue tribe," said Ilmarė. 

Sebastian poked at the meat with one boot.  "And this is human flesh."

"There's something behind here," Ilmarė said.  With a mighty tug, she tore the banner down that was nailed to the wall.

Beneath it was a mosaic worthy of a master craftsman.  The centerpiece of the mural depicted a scene of a very large man in the midst of battle.  All around him lay the ruined bodies of his enemies, a testimony to his combat prowess.  The rest of the scene implied the looting and pillaging of a much larger force, but the details were difficult to make out due to the faded color of the tiny tiles.

"Looks like a Ying Hir tribesman," said Beldin.  "But he's more ferocious and feral than most."

"Maybe it's the wolf-motif," said Sebastian.  "Here, here, and here."  He pointed to the man's helmet, armor, and pommel of his curved blade.

"Let's keep moving," said Quintus.  When nobody moved, he added, "I'll lead."

They returned to the hallway, only to reach a doorway on the left that was in the shape of a huge lion's jaws. Quintus kicked open the double doors.  

The chamber was adorned with a faded mural like the room before, but it was of a pitch-black lion.  Sheets of spider webbing blanketed the room.  A wrapped humanoid shape hung just off the floor.

"Gaius?" Quintus shouted.  "Gaius, can you hear us?"

The cocooned figure did not respond. 

Quintus turned to his comrades in the hallway.  "I think—"

A handaxe flashed towards his face.  He ducked just in time.

"What's in the name of…" Quintus' shout died in his throat as he caught Beldin's expression.  The dwarf was reaching for his battleaxe.

A huge bulbous shape blotted out Quintus' shadow as multiple spindly legs unfurled themselves.  Quintus slowly reached for his gladius as he turned.

"Where the hell is Kham?" he shouted.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 2a: The Secret Chamber*

Kham stopped in the hallway at the opening of a yawning wolf.  Unlike the other chambers, there was no doorway in the wolf's mouth.  

"Ahha!" said Kham to himself.  It was just as he had been instructed.  "Khidam was said to have hidden his treasure within the wolf's mouth, so this must be it."

Kham pressed one thumb against the wolf's left eye.  "Jezzalec Khidam ic baldis illanta!" he said.  Translated into ancient Auxunite, it meant, "Lord Khidam is master of all!"

As the phrase passed Kham's lips, the solid stone wall began to ripple like the surface of a shimmering black pool.  

Kham put his hand to the wall. It felt cool and oily but did not resist his touch. He started to enter and then paused.

He patted himself down. "Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…okay."  If he had more than 20 shots of blackpowder, it would explode upon entering an extra-dimensional portal.

Taking a deep breath, Kham plunged through the wall.

Three floating orbs cast a dim pall over the entire chamber.  Through the shadows, Kham could make out overturned casks and chests.  The room was completely ransacked.

At the far end, there was a shimmering pillar of coruscating light.  Kham moved closer to take a look.

Resting on a pedestal within the pillar of light was a bejeweled collar made of gold and studded with precious gems. 

"The Collar of Khidam," Kham whispered.  

The collar had been fashioned during the final days of the Imperium for the internment ceremony of the Dowager Feleqsha val'Sheem.  It was thought to be lost forever, but Khidam found it in the Blessed Lands.  On its back was inscribed the entire life of the ancient Dowager.  Its return to the Emerald Society would bring to light new insights into the life of Khidam and the Imperium as a whole.

A similar pedestal stood just outside of the energy column.  Standing near the outer pedestals were three statues.  

Kham walked up to the crown.  

"Beewaaaaaare," hissed three voices inside Kham's head. They all spoke in exact harmony and the voices wafted through his mind as if they were shrieking across a great distance.

"Whoa!" he shouted, stumbling backwards.  "Who said that?"  His handgonnes were out in a flash.

"Weeeee are the three wives of Khidam."

Kham squinted at the statues.  Each was in the form of a comely woman, her hand outstretched towards the pedestal that stood in darkness.  

"Weeeee tried to reach for the collar, but the pillar barred us."

"Okay," said Kham, "so no reaching for the collar. Got it."

"Weeeee tried to solve the riddle of the pedestal, but the pillar cursed us."

"So don't screw up the riddle," said Kham.  "Great."

The pedestal had a series of five raised tiles, each in the shape of different animals: a sinewy dragon, a howling wolf, a sitting toad, a coiled viper, and a shadow lion. There was an inscription on the side of the pillar in a language Kham could not read.

He pointed to the inscription. "I don't suppose you ladies can translate what that says?" 

"Weeeeeak shall fall before the strong."

Kham looked at the three statues.  "Fitting.  So I have to push the tiles in order, from the weakest to the strongest, right?"

"Weeeee think so."

"You're not sure? What did you press?"

"Weeeee do not remember."

"Great."  He sighed. "The Society doesn't pay me enough for this. Okay, well, let's see: Dragon is the strongest and I'm pretty sure toad is the weakest.  So that leaves the wolf, the viper, and the—what the hell is a shadow lion anyway?"

The ghostly voices did not answer.

"I'm going to assume that's just a lion.  Which can still eat a wolf, hands down.  Wolves are more ferocious than vipers.  Unless you count the fact that vipers have poison.  What kind of viper is it?"

The statues continued to stare at the column like they had for centuries.

"Oh, sure, now you're quiet.  So if I've got this right, it's: toad, viper, wolf, lion, and then dragon."

His hand hovered over the tiles.  "Any last words of advice before I risk life and limb for this gauche fashion statement?"

The statues remained silent.

"Great.  Here goes everything…"


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 2b: The Secret Chamber*

Quintus looked up and down at the statue.

"Yep. It's definitely Kham."

"Fool," hissed Ilmarė.  "He was dealing with magic he did not understand, ancient magic."

"The inscription on the pedestal reads 'The weak shall fall before the strong'," said Beldin. 

"Kham learned that the hard way," Ilmarė added.

Quintus took a deep breath.  ""Anyone can be fooled under the right circumstances.

"You mean how you thought the cocoon was Gaius?" asked Sebastian.

Quintus ignored him.  "We have to get Kham back."

"And if you fail?" Sebastian asked.

"Then I would expect any of you to do the same for me."

Ilmarė looked away.  "I will not sacrifice myself needlessly for the petty greed of humans."

Quintus' eyebrows went up in surprise.  A momentary expression of confusion and betrayal passed, only to be replaced by grim determination.

"And what of you two?" Quintus said, staring at Beldin and Sebastian.  "Do you think you are above all this?"

Sebastian looked down at his feet.  Beldin returned his gaze, but said nothing.

Quintus took a deep breath.  "When I led my contubernium, I never asked a man to take a risk that I wasn't willing to take myself.   Every one of my men would do the same for me."

Ilmarė snorted.  "There is a limit to loyalty.  A single Elorii life is too precious to waste.  By your thinking you would all suffer the same fate, even die together."

"You're right about one thing," Quintus said, his eyes distant, "they all suffered for their loyalty."

Ilmarė turned around to watch Quintus with her arms crossed.  

"I do not expect you two to understand our customs," he said, nodding towards Ilmarė and Sebastian.  "But you, Beldin, have sworn as a citizen of Solanos Mor to defend all humans."

Beldin's eyes went wide.  "I am aware of my duty."

"Then I shall hold you to it," said Quintus.  "If I should fail, I call upon your ancient oath as a Penitent of Illiir."

Beldin's lip twitched.  "You question my loyalty?"

"No," said Quintus, "I merely remind you of mine."  Quintus put his shield and spear down, his eyes on the pedestal.  "You can place me in the Coryan Square. I should like to give the birds a place to rest."

Quintus' stepped up to the pedestal.  "The weak before the strong. Toad is weakest." He pressed the toad tile.  It slid down with a grinding sound.

Ilmarė bit her lip. 

"Viper is stronger than toad, but weaker than wolf." Quintus pressed the viper tile.  It also slid down to the sound of grinding stone.

Quintus' hand hovered over the wolf tile. "Wolf—"

"Wait," said Ilmarė. 

Quintus blinked.  "What?"

"Everything we've witnessed indicates that Khidam's totem was a wolf."

Sweat dripped off of Quintus' chin. "I don't know if there's a time limit…"

"If I know arrogant human men," said Ilmarė, gazing pointedly at Quintus, "Khidam holds his totem above all, even dragons." 

"So…?"

"Must I spell it out for you? The order is toad, viper, shadow lion, dragon, and then wolf."

Quintus caught her gaze.  "Are you sure?"

The corner of Ilmarė's lips curled slightly in the barest hint of a smile. "Trust me."

Quintus took another deep breath.  Then he pressed the shadow lion, dragon, and wolf tiles in order.

The coruscating light around the pillar pulsed and grew brighter.  It flashed so brightly that they were all momentarily blinded.

When the light faded, Kham stood with the jewel-encrusted crown in his hands.  Quintus was shocked but still in the flesh.

Kham turned to Quintus, "Wow, powerful magic!"

"You have no idea," said Ilmarė, a hint of relief in her voice.

"Solving the riddle teleported you all to me!"

Quintus smacked his forehead.


----------



## Speed-Stick

Awsome story hour.


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 3: The Amber Menagerie*

Ilmarė put up one hand to halt the rest of her companions' progress down the hallway.  She peeked into the adjoining room and then came back to them.

"Five hobgoblins and a prisoner," she whispered.

Kham's eyes lit up.  "A prisoner?  What kind of prisoner?"

"Altherian, judging by his robes."

Kham took off his lenses and threw open his jacket to grab two handgonnes from their holsters.

"Okay," said Quintus, "they haven't seen us yet—where the hell is he going?"

Kham rushed past Quintus, a handgonne in each hand.  His headache had reached a fever pitch and his head throbbed with a high-pitched whine that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.  

Quintus snarled and grabbed his spear.  "Let's back him up!" he shouted as Kham skidded into the room.

The hobgoblins appeared to Kham as slow-moving white shadows, their every action precipitated by a wave of action that signaled their moves.  He took aim at the heads of two of the shadows.

BLAM!  BLAM!

Both hobgoblins walked into the path of the bullets and fell, dead.  Perfects shots had pierced them between the eyes.

Javelins clattered around him, but Kham saw them coming.  He dove and tumbled to his feet near the Altherian.

"Qolwa!" he shouted.  

The older man had obviously been treated roughly.  "Kham!" 

"They're surrounded!" said Quintus. The three remaining hobgoblins advanced with longswords drawn on Kham.  

Just then, Sebastian strode boldly forward before the three hobgoblins, one palm raised before him.  "Fuco aspergo!"

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hand, engulfing the hobgoblins. They clutched their eyes, screaming, and fell to the ground.

Quintus' eyes were wide.  "I didn't know you could do that."

Ilmarė calmly walked over to the hobgoblins.  They were twitching on the ground, unconscious. 

"Wow," said Kham, blinking over at Sebastian. "I take it all back.  I'd rather have you watching my back any day."

Sebastian gave a weak smile. "I try not to advertise my abilities." He looked over his shoulder at Ilmarė. "What are you doing?" 

"Finishing what you started," she said, wiping the blood off her blade.

"You…slit their throats?" Sebastian said as he looked over at the spreading pools of blood beneath the hobgoblin corpses.

"Did you expect me to let them get back up?" said Ilmarė coolly. "Would you have preferred they alert the others?"

"No, but…"

"If you want to survive Harvesters, you're going to have to be a lot more ruthless," said Ilmarė.  "Hobgoblin life is brutal and short.  I gave them a peaceful death.  May you be so blessed when your time comes."

"You will need more than sorcery to defeat the cult," said Qolwa.

"Cult?" asked Quintus.

"Yes, the cult.  They worship the blasphemous aspect of Larissa in her incarnation as Lady of Thorns." 

"You two know each other, I take it?" asked Quintus.

"This is my…uh, Uncle Qolwa val'Abebi," said Kham, patting the old man on the shoulder. "He is a Sage of the Great Library of Coryan."

"You've strayed a bit from the library," said Quintus.

The old man smiled a weak smile.  "I was invited to the Menisis estates to study these ruins, but I never made it to the manse."

"Impossible!" said Quintus. "The General would never willingly lure you into a trap."

"The letter I received had the seal of the General himself," said Qolwa.

"I believe you," said Kham, peering into his uncle's face for signs of harm.  "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. They were forcing me to translate tomes written in ancient Auxunite.  The things I've read…" He shuddered. "My goodness, I never noticed before," said Qolwa, his gaze locked with Kham's. "It seems you have the Gift!  Did you know that the Gift runs strong in our line—"

Kham put one finger to his lips and Qolwa fell silent.  "Can you make it out of here on your own?" he asked. 

"Yes, I'll be fine.  Did you retrieve…the item?"

Kham's eyes flicked nervously over to his companions, who were watching the exchange curiously. "Yes."

"Praise Althares!" said Qolwa, obviously relieved.  "Then this wasn't all for naught."

"We were talking about the cult, remember uncle?"

"Yes, the cult! You must hurry.  They've moved one of the chunks to the central chamber," Qolwa gestured at the teardrop-shaped hunks of stone.

"If I know cultists, that can't be good," said Kham.

Beldin was staring into one of the yellow teadrops.  "This is amber, at least two tons each," he said.  "There's something inside each of them."

"They call them the Beloved of Larissa.  The Devourers of Flesh," said Qolwa.

Beldin peered closer.  Inside was a massive figure, warped and misshapen. Suddenly he flinched backwards.  "I think one of them moved."

"Let's get out of here," said Quintus.  

"Yes, let's," said Kham, putting his lenses back on his nose.  "I need to teach some cult members not to mess with the val'Abebi clan."


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 4: Council Overheard*

"You never mentioned your uncle before," said Quintus, brow furrowed.  "What have you been up to Kham?"

Kham put hand to his chest in mock-offense.  "Me?  I haven't been up to anything.  You have your orders, I have mine."

"Orders?" asked Sebastian.  "Orders from whom?"

Ilmarė hushed them.  She was peering through a small hole in the wall.  

Inside were a group of hooded men in red robs huddled around a low table.  On the table was a set of six doll-sized wooden mannequins. Across the way, Gaius val'Tensen was strapped to an inclined table.

"I am loyal…please, I've been loyal to you!" he blubbered in near hysteria.  "Your creatures attacked too early!  Please!"

One of the hooded men addressed the wooden mannequin.  "Master, we have need of your council."

Defying all reason, one of the wooden dolls shuddered slightly and rose.  Its voice was hollow and tinny, as if coming from a great distance.  "Speak, my disciple.  What is so urgent that you interrupt me again?"

The hooded speaker bowed low.  "My master, we have taken the val'Tensen as you instructed, but he has led a group of warriors to our lair. What is your wish?"

"The val'Tensen has already cost us the lives of some of the hobgoblins of the Serrated Tongue," said the mannequin. "It will be costly to compensate their warlord for the loss.  His use has ended.  Prepare him for my return.  I will see if it is the head, this time, that holds the power."

Gaius' pleading turned into wails of mercy, almost drowning out the hooded acolyte's final question.  "And what of the invaders?"

Another doll rose up.  Its voice was much more commanding and merciless.  "There must be no witnesses.  Kill them all!"

"Your will be done, mighty lord," replied the acolyte.

"That's all I need to hear," said Quintus.  "Let's not make it easy for them."

"Did I hear him right?" Kham looked over at Sebastian.  "He called us warriors?"


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Part 5: The Children of the Molder of Flesh*

As they turned the corner, the southern corridor became wider.  Huge stones and boulders that made up the eastern wall were apparently cleared to form the passageway.  

"Something's coming," hissed Ilmarė. Her warning was followed by the scuttling noise of many legs.

"Beldin, stand at my side," said Quintus, pointing with his spear at the other side of the hallway to his left.  "Sebastian, Kham, you're in the back. Ilmarė, you stay in the center."  He crouched down behind his shield.

What came around the corner were mockeries of men.  There were three small, twisted abominations with many arms sprouting from bloated torsos and heads embedded in their chests.  Directing them was a large woman, her torso elongated to accommodate an extra set of arms that were stitched on like a slave's rag doll. She had a gladius and a buckler in each pair of hands.

"By the gods!" Sebastian shouted involuntarily, hand to his mouth.

"Stand fast!" shouted Quintus.  "Take out the leader!"

Quintus stabbed at one of the flesh dolls with his longspear.  It grabbed onto it with three of its arms.  Beldin swung mightily with his axe and lopped off one of the thing's arms, but it kept coming, snapping at him with jagged teeth. 

Kham found himself sheathing one of his handgonnes.   He looked down in surprise to discover his hand on the hilt of Flesh Ripper.  

Next to him Sebastian chanted, "Magicus telum!" A sliver of bright blue energy spiraled its way over Quintus shoulder and slammed into the flesh doll leader. She didn't even flinch.

Ilmarė fired an arrow at her but it bounced off one of her shields. Beldin and Quintus kept two of the flesh dolls at bay, but the third walked between them.  She fired an arrow into its torso. The arrow perforated one of its eyes, but it kept coming.

"They're breaking through!" she said.  "Shoot it!"

Beldin hacked straight through one of the flesh dolls and engaged another that had wrested itself off of Quintus' spear.  

"Thanks!" shouted Quintus.  He pulled the spear back for a long thrust and shoved it through the torso of the flesh doll leader.  

Glazed eyes looked down at the spear.  There was no blood or even evidence of a wound. Using two of its hands, it pulled the longspear out.  Quintus stumbled backwards but held on.

Then it lifted the spear up in the air and Quintus with it.  Using the longspear as leverage, it slammed Quintus into the wall.  Dazed, the legionnaire fell to the ground.

Kham forcefully unclenched his hand from Flesh Ripper's hilt and, with effort, grabbed one of his handgonnes. 

Sebastian pointed at the flesh doll and chanted, "Radius gelidus!" A bluish-white beam of energy sliced into the flesh doll.  One of it arms was covered in frost.  It kept coming.

"Kham, if you're going to do something," said Ilmarė as she dropped her bow and unsheathed her sword, "I suggest you do it now!"

Kham, sweat beading on his forehead, pressed the barrel of the handgonne against the flesh doll's headless torso.  Multiple hands grasped for the weapon even as lifeless eyes stared up at him.

BLAM!

There was an explosion of debris as brittle bone and dried flesh bounced off the stone floor. The flesh doll had exploded into its component parts, unrecognizable as anything but bits of corpses.

Quintus reached for his gladius even as the flesh doll leader loomed over him.  He blocked the first two attacks with his shield as he struggled to rise, his back against the stone wall of the hallway.  But there were too many arms attacking at once.  Quintus gladius was slapped out of his hand.  A pair of arms grabbed the shield and wrenched it out of his grasp.

Quintus looked up at the flesh doll leader.  She looked familiar.

"Helena?" Quintus said, incredulous.  "Helena Vorosa!  Is that you?"

The thing's face twitched in confusion.  It raised two gladiuses over Quintus…

Before it could strike, Beldin's axe smashed into its back, protruding through its collarbone.  Arms flailed to dislodge the weapon until the body fell to the ground, once again lifeless.

Beldin helped Quintus up.  "Brilliant tactic.  How did you know its name?"

Quintus stared down at the broken, patchwork body.  "Not an 'it', a 'she'.  That was Helena Vorosa.  She was a legionnaire of the Reluctant Warrior.  She lost her arms in of our campaigns against the Voei."  He placed his fingers over her eyelids and closed them.  "How did you come to this, Helena?"

"Look well on that corpse," said Ilmarė to Beldin.  "It is the result of Coryan vanity and hubris." 

Thunder boomed ominously overhead and the sounds of rain on stone reverberated above them.

Quintus kneeled down before the body and muttered a quick prayer to Illiir.  Beldin joined him.

"What are they doing?" asked Kham, reloading his handgonnes.  "We don't have time for this!"

Sebastian put one hand on Kham's shoulder.  "I think we must make the time."


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - The Lair of the Vivisectionist*

The inner chamber was a Nerothian physician's chamber of horrors.  Illuminated by two large hanging braziers, the scene was straight out of a nightmare.  Tables lay about, covered in the flayed remains of human beings.  One man was sliced open, with all of his still-connected organs arranged carefully outside of his body. His eyes were open and he moaned with each breath. Next to him was Gaius val'Tensen, still shrieking for his life. 

Hooded acolytes huddled around a large chunk of amber.  Their leader had just finished reading from a scroll as the amber began to smolder.   Overhead through a circular crystal ceiling skylight adorned with blasphemous sigils, lightning flashed and rain cascaded down in sheets.   

"Alright, as we discussed," said Quintus, a vial of oil in each hand. "Beldin, you take the left, I'll take the right."

The four acolytes unraveled long, chains covered in barbed spikes all along their length and began swinging them overhead. 

As the acolytes advanced, Beldin and Quintus lit the vials of oil and threw them.  The glass vials were easily slapped out of the air with the spiked chains, but it only caused the oil to burst into a sheet of flame, engulfing two of the acolytes.

"Hold the line!" shouted Quintus over the roar of the flames.  He picked up his longspear and lifted his shield.  Beldin reached for his axe.

Kham was rifling through his overcoat.  "They were chanting over that hunk of amber. You know what that means, Quintus."

"I said hold the line!" Quintus shouted back.  "You want to get us all killed?"

Sebastian stepped around Quintus shield into the open.  "We must press the advantage while we have it!" 

Sebastian extended his palm. "Fuco aspergo!" A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hand, engulfing the three of the acolytes.  Two of them fell to the ground, but a third kept coming.

"He's not going to make it," said Kham, patting himself down.  "I…"

"What's wrong?" asked Beldin.

"I can't seem to find my handgonnes!" Kham shouted with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Why do you keep holstering them?" said Ilmarė, snapping an arrow off at one of the acolytes.  "Have you gone mad?"

With significant effort, he finally managed to locate his handgonnes, as if they were somehow hidden on his person. "Maybe," he said through gritted teeth.  Then he stepped around Quintus' shield.

"They never listen," said Quintus.  He speared one of the acolytes who had fallen, skewering him through the throat.

A spiked chain snapped hard against the floor, causing metal and stone to spark as Kham leapt to the side. He dove and rolled, coming up in front of Sebastian.  

"You're crazy, jumping into the fray like that! " he shouted at Sebastian over his shoulder. "Who do you think you are, me?"

The acolyte didn't give Sebastian a chance to answer.  The spiked chain whistled overhead, forcing them both to duck. 

Kham thrust both handgonnes out before him and pulled the trigger.

BLAM! BLAM! Two smoking holes felled the acolyte in his tracks.

There was a shuddering thud that caused all the combatants to pause.  Something heavy and wet hit the ground. 

Then another shuddering thud followed.  A perpetually oozing monstrosity, covered in undulating flesh, had risen out of the amber. Two lidless eyeballs floated in and out where its head should have been. It was only vaguely humanoid in shape, with no discernable hands or feet. It stumped forward, leaving behind small pools of flesh with each footstep.

"Uh, Sebastian…" said Kham, struggling to reload his weapons.

"I see it," said Sebastian.  He took a half-step back even as he chanted "Radius gelidus!" A bluish-white beam of energy coruscated from his pointing finger into the blobby form.  It turned white and then was enveloped.

Ilmarė fired an arrow into the thing.  It absorbed the arrow into its body with a slurping sound. Then it shambled towards Kham.  

"Ladies, don't fail me now!" shouted Kham.  He took aim and fired. BLAM! BLAM!

The handgonnes made one large gaping hole in the center of the thing.  Through it, Kham could see the lead acolyte sneering back at him.

"Now, you will experience the joy that is Larissa!" shouted the lead acolyte. "Behold, her Beloved!"

The hole slowly filled in with more oozing flesh.  "Run!" Kham shouted, elbowing Sebastian aside.

The Beloved lifted one appendage and smashed down at Kham.  Waves of flesh splashed over his feet, covering him up to his knees.  It flipped him upside down.

Kham took his second pair of handgonnes out from their holsters, but before he could fire them the Beloved sucked the Val into its body.  He disappeared without a sound. Like a child in the womb, his flailing could be seen in the Beloved's torso.

"He'll suffocate," said Quintus, drawing his gladius.  "Aim for limbs, slashes only.  If you strike the torso you may hit Kham!"

He hacked at the thing's left leg, only to tear away a glob of flesh that quickly filled in.  

"Witness Larissa's Beloved," shouted the lead acolyte.  Ilmarė drew a bead on him. "Witness the Devourer of Flesh! "

"Will you SHUT…" Ilmarė fired an arrow, "UP!" It struck the acolyte between the eyes.  He slumped onto a nearby table.

Beldin had dispatched the remaining acolyte and was hacking away at the Beloved's limbs.  "Kham's not going to last long in there!"

Quintus ducked back behind his shield as the Beloved vomited a stream of flesh at him.  The force of the blow against the shield slid him backwards.  "Don't you think I know that?"

Suddenly, the Beloved began to produce a seeping black boil.  There was a slash, and dark ichor spewed from the side of thing.  Something long and pointed jutted from the side of the blob, tearing its way like a jagged knife through cheese.

"Get down!" shouted Quintus.

Flesh Ripper ripped through the middle of the Beloved in a wide arc, spewing fluid in all directions.  Kham dropped to his knees from its center, covered in black liquid; only his very white eyes were visible.  He looked like a man possessed.

"Are you alright?" asked Sebastian. 

Something dripped from Kham's lips but he did not move to wipe his face.  He had both hands on Flesh Ripper, blinking as he stared about the room.

Kham took one trembling step towards Gaius with the wicked blade held over his head.

"Stop him!" shouted Quintus. 

Beldin grabbed Kham by the legs as Sebastian grabbed his arms.  The Val let out a loud croak as Gaius squealed in terror, his murderous rage thwarted.  

Then Kham stopped struggling and fell to his knees.  He vomited a long gout of Beloved flesh.

"He'll be fine," said Ilmarė with a smirk.

Quintus rolled the lead acolyte off of the table.  At its center was a book bound in human flesh.  Beldin poked at the book.  

"It is the holy scripture of the Goddess Larissa, the Lady of Thorns."  The dwarf paged through it.  "This is…disgusting."

"What?" asked Sebastian.

"It's a book about ancient Auxunite torture techniques," he said.  "The acolytes were following it to the letter."

"What of this poor man?" asked Sebastian, who stood over the tortured soul with his entrails hanging out.

Ilmarė walked over to him.  "I'll take care of him," she said, cradling the man's chin in the palm of her hand. 

"Can you heal-"

There was a loud crack that answered Sebastian's unfinished question.  There would be no healing.

Kham slowly rose to his feet, Flesh Ripper still in his hands. "I have some healing for Gaius too," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Quintus barred his path.  "No, he will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of Coryan law. "  He lowered his voice and spoke to Kham conspiratorially. "If you kill him here, like this, you're no better than them."

Kham spat out another glob of something but said nothing more.  

Gaius, still strapped to the table, looked down over his chest.  "I had nothing to do with this!"

"We heard you," said Quintus grimly.  "We heard everything.  Tell us who did this."

"The Vivisectionist!  He's obsessed with discovering the physical reasons as to why Val have special powers and humans do not."

"And who were those men?"

"The Acolytes of the Flesh.  They came to the ancient temple and discovered the Holy Book of the Tormentor of Flesh."  Gaius nodded in Kham's direction.  "But they had me under a spell!"

"Under a spell, you say," Quintus exchanged glances with Kham.

"Yes, those dolls," Gaius whispered, "they talk!"

Beldin picked up one of the dolls.  "They seem to be harmless now."

The doll's head spun around and leaned in towards Beldin's bearded face.  "You have meddled with affairs far beyond your reckoning for the last time!" it said in guttural tones. Then it burst into flames, singing Beldin's beard.

"That's it," said Beldin with a huff.  He threw the flaming doll to the ground and crushed it under his heel.  Then he set about hacking up the dolls with his axe.

"You must set me free, I am the nephew of General Menisis!"

Quintus took a deep sigh as he drew his gladius.  

"What are you—what are you doing?  You can't kill me!  Not in front of all these witnesses!"

Quintus shook his head, his face grim as he lifted the gladius over Gaius.  Gaius' voice became a high-pitched wail as the blade came down, severing his restraints.

He grabbed Gaius by the throat and hurled him to the ground. 

"Thank you," Gaius sobbed, "you will be rewarded!"

"I don't want your reward," said Quintus.  He dragged Gaius to his feet.  "Move."  Quintus turned to the others.  "Let's get out of here."

After he left, Ilmarė asked, "Why so glum? Did we not save a citizen of the Empire, as Quintus swore to do?"

"Leave him be, elf," said Beldin.  "Honor is a tricky thing."


----------



## talien

*Temptations of the Flesh - Epilogue*

Quintus was talking with the members of the Legion of the Defiant Shield, Gaius cowering at his side.

"So all the goodwill we built up with the val'Tensens is lost," said Kham with a smirk. "We're doing more damage to that family than if we let the Acolytes of the Flesh kill Gaius."

"You can pick your friends," said Sebastian, "but you can't pick your family."

"You can say that again," said Kham.

"Why?" asked Sebastian, "Didn't you hear me say it the first time?"

Kham rolled his eyes.  "We need to find you a sense of humor."

By the end of the conversation, two legionnaires grabbed Gaius roughly by the arms and dragged him off. Quintus walked over to the group.

"Well, that's settled," said Quintus. "Kham, I'd like to hand over the collar as evidence."

Kham thrust his hands in his pockets.  "I uh…lost the collar."

"What?"

"I lost it."

Quintus' face turned red.  "You…lost…it?"

"This doesn't by any chance have to do with the departure of Qolwa val'Abebi?" asked Ilmarė.

Kham shrugged and began whistling to himself.

Quintus shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs.  "You want to keep secrets?  Fine.  Where's the book?"

"I destroyed it," said Sebastian.

Before Quintus could say more, Acastus approached them with Oriena in tow.  "Your words did not do the place justice," he said.  

"That heretical temple was a true perversion of our faith," Oriena added, her face pale.

Ilmarė coughed into her fist at the word "perversion."

"And what of the body?" asked Quintus.

"It's here now.  We will give her a proper burial," said Acastus.  Quintus walked over to a stretcher where the mangled body of Helena Vorosa lay. 

Sebastian took Acastus aside, but Oriena followed him.  "What of Elandre'?" he asked. 

"I am calling off the wedding," Acastus responded, looking curiously at Sebastian. "The val'Tensen line has fallen greatly indeed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have much to attend to." He stormed off, clearly upset at the turn of events.

"Do you fancy Elandre'?" Oriena asked Sebastian.  

Sebastian swallowed hard. "I know when there is a grave injustice.  That wedding should not have happened, so I am glad for her."

Oriena's carefully plucked eyebrows narrowed.  "And what of the book?"

Sebastian cleared his throat.  "I burned it."

"You what?" said Oriena.  "Why?"

"Because it was a perversion of everything decent, including your religion.  I thought it best that nobody ever read it again."

Oriena sighed.  "I suppose you're right. But I would have been very grateful if you were to retrieve such an important part of our history." She smiled.  "Since you have been such a boon companion, would you consider escorting me back to my home in Savona?" 

Sebastian looked uncomfortable.  "Well…"

"The High Priestess of Larissa would most certainly be interested in meeting your companions.  After all, you did uncover a heretical cult in our midst."

Sebastian looked around for Quintus. Quintus had both hands raised up, his head down, kneeling in prayer before the corpse of the former legionnaire. 

"I'll have to check with the others, but I don't see why not."

"Then I will consider it done," said Oriena with a sly smile.  "I will feel safer with you protecting me."

Kham shook his head in disbelief as he watched Oriena hug Sebastian.  "How does a freak like that get all the women?"

"He's kind and loyal," said Ilmarė, staring at Quintus. "Some women look for those traits in a mate."

Kham caught her gaze.  "Even Elorii?"

She looked at him sideways. "What happened to your eyes?"

Kham looked down as he polished his lenses and placed them on his head.  "Let's just say," he said with a slight smile, "I'm seeing things with a new perspective." 

He put one arm around Beldin's shoulder and steered him away from the conversation. "I've got this fine blade that I think Master Elabac might be interested in…"


----------



## talien

*Portrait of Ilmare*

Well, here we are at the end of 2004.  We played another game just before Christmas vacation that I'm still working on.  I'll have an update some time in 2005 probably.  In the mean time, here's my attempt at drawing Ilmare.  

This picture is a composite of a graphic my wife uses as her portrait on her character sheet, the costume she wore on Halloween, and a picture of a female elf in the Codex Arcanis. The elves have an Elfquest-type look, with a more flattened face which I think makes them look different from typical elves.

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the story so far.  I have no idea how far we'll go with this, but we plan to enjoy the ride along the way.  Thanks for reading and stay tuned for 2005!


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Introduction*

Happy New Year!  Welcome to the new series of 2005 updates in our Arcanis campaign.

This is the third Hard Point of the tournament module, "The Seeds of Our Destruction," written by Henry Lopez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Our cast of characters includes:

·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr3), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Kham Val'Abebi (val Rog1/PsiW2), played by Jeremy Ortiz: http://www.dreamsculptor.com/index1.html 
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf Brd3), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin Sor2), played by George Webster.
·	Beldin (dwarf Ftr2), played by Joe Lalumia.
·	Vlad Martell (human Ftr2), played by Matt Hammer.

Our DM is Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: http://www.storyboardz.net.  

This is one of those scenarios where the majority of our characters were uncomfortable and out of place.  Traveling to Sweet Savona is like going to Mardis Gras, and if you're not there to party it's a little weird.  Being a female makes it even more awkward (Amber was not thrilled about most of the adventure).

That said, this scenario is very dark and moody.  It's a real murder mystery that unfortunately doesn't quite let you solve the murder (that's for the next scenario, ya see). I liken it to a 70's cop show, complete with cheesy "wakichika, wakichika" soundtrack in the background.  When Quintus runs off down the street to chase the bad guy, you can just hear the music thrumming in the background.

Ironically, Ilmarė had a lot to do with the plot, because she's an Elorii.  Similarly, Kham has a fun time in Savona (nobody's surprised, right?).  And really, this is Sebastian's show…he gets the opportunity to be the kind, caring, creepy guy to lots of women while Quintus gets squeezed to a pulp.

This adventure allowed us lots of role-playing opportunities and emphasized just how awkward Quintus is when he's out of his element.  I mean, for most of it he runs around without a spear OR a shield.  The horror!


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Prologue*

"I don't recall agreeing to go to Savona," said Ilmarė, her arms crossed.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better," said Quintus.  "I get the distinct feeling we're not wanted on the val'Tensen estates any longer."

"And with good reason," said Sebastian.  "The rest of you don't have to go if you don't want to."

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  "Fine.  But you do realize that it's the Saturnalia ex Mille Basiare."

Kham piped up from the nearby table, where he was laying with his chin on his hands.  "That's the only reason to go to Savona!"

Beldin arched an eyebrow.  "The what?"

"The Festival of the Thousand Kisses!" said Kham, hopping up from his seat.  "It commemorates the victory of the Pantheon in the God's War."

Ilmarė's lip curled in a sneer but nobody noticed.

"Larissa bestowed one thousand kisses upon her husband Cadic to bring him back from the dead," said Kham. 

Someone cleared his throat, interrupting the conversation.  It was a legionnaire of the Defiant Shield. 

"Duty and honor," said Quintus, putting his fist to his breast and raising it high.

"Duty and honor," said the legionnaire.  "We have captured a Nierite at the estate gates.  He said he knew you."

"Oh?" said Quintus.  "What does he look like?"

"He's wearing full plate armor," the legionnaire said.  "And he's angry at being detained."

Kham slapped his forehead.  "I told Vlad that armor would get him in trouble."

Quintus turned to the legionnaire.  "Actually, he's a Milandisian.  We're leaving now anyway, so he can accompany us to Savona."

The legionnaire nodded and marched off. 

They walked outside of the estate to where Oriena's wagons were waiting.  Four other pure blood Cafelans, acting as her handmaidens, accompanied her. 

Vlad greeted them with a warm smile.  "How'd it go?"

"We didn't kill any Howling Bears," said Ilmarė as the Elorii hoisted herself onto her mount.  

"We did send our host to prison though," said Kham with a smirk.  "And I nearly died a couple of times."

Vlad seemed unsurprised.  "Oh," he said.

"Was your journey productive?" asked Quintus as he climbed onto his mount.

"Not really," said Vlad.  Some of Oriena's servants helped the armored Milandisian onto his steed.  "Tensions run high, but it was more a show of force than an actual mission.  Still, we're not at war yet, so I guess it was a success."

Oriena got into her wagon.  "Joining us, Sebastian?" she said, with the door open.  

Sebastian looked at the horses.  The horse whinnied nervously back.  "Yes," he said, "I think I will."

Kham shook his head in disbelief as Sebastian got into the carriage with five buxom women.  "Unbelievable.  It must be the hair."

The wagon train started to slowly amble its way down a wide cobble stoned thoroughfare.  Quintus and Ilmarė rode in front, side by side, with Vlad and Beldin behind.  Kham climbed onto the carriage and grabbed hold of the reins.

"What brought you here?" asked Quintus.

"Another mission," Vlad said, staring southwards.  "There's a missing ship of blackpowder that the Duke asked me to track down.  I think it's a reward for leading the men.  I mean, it is the Saturnalia after all."

Quintus frowned.  "The Saturnalia is filled with debauchery.  You can lose an entire legion in Savona."

"Speaking of free love," said Kham from behind them, "we're traveling on the Via Amare."

"So?" asked Beldin.

"Any couple that travels to Savona upon the Via Amare is promised true love and happiness," Kham said with a grin.

Quintus and Ilmarė exchanged a glance.  Quintus coughed and sped up his mount slightly.

Kham leaned forward from the carriage, addressing Beldin and Vlad's backs.  "You two will make a cute couple."


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 1a: Finally, Sweet Savona*

"Pardon my question, but you're not from around here, are you?" Sebastian asked the fifth of Oriena's female servants.  

The other servants were of pure Cafelan blood, with olive complexions, luxurious long black hair, and large, deep eyes.  But the fifth servant had short hair and her skin was a coppery hue.

"N-no," the servant said after Oriena nodded her permission to speak.  "I'm a Myrantian."

"Do Myrantians have names?" Sebastian asked with a hint of a smile.

"My name is Hetshapet," she said, fingering an exotic amulet dangling from her throat.  "I'm actually from Savona.  I have a sister there." She shot the other servants a glance. "If anything, THEY'RE not from around here.  And where are you from?"

Sebastian smirked.  "I'm not from around here either."

Up on top of the carriage, Kham was espousing the glories of the Saturnalia ex Mille Basiare to Vlad.

"The way it works is you run around the city bare-chested," said Kham.  "And you try to get as many women as possible to kiss you."

"Wow," said Vlad, wide-eyed.  "And they do it?"

"Oh yeah," said Kham with a wicked grin.  "Of course, a little wine doesn't hurt.  And the smell of Savona itself probably helps.  They don't call it 'sweet' for nothing."

When Vlad's confused expression didn't change, Quintus offered over his shoulder, "Some say that Sweet Savona's scent is a mild hallucinogenic, mixed with Helvasta."

Kham rolled his eyes.  "All business, all the time.  You're no fun Quintus."

"In a city like Savona, letting your guard down can lead to trouble.  I prefer to celebrate this time of year by giving gifts to loved ones, not drunken debauchery."

Kham waved him off.  "So anyway, all these women wear red lipstick, so you can count how many kisses you've accumulated."

"What do you win if you have the most kisses?" asked Vlad.

"You get the title of Consort of Larissa."

"That's it?" asked Vlad.  "Just a title?"

In front of them, Ilmarė snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner. "The Consort of Larissa stays in the Temple of Larissa for an entire week."

Vlad looked back at Kham for guidance.

"The Consort of Larissa officiates in certain select ceremonies sacred to the Smiling Goddess."

Vlad blinked. "Wow," was all he said.

"Don't get any ideas," said Quintus.  "We're on a mission and we'll see it through to the end."

When Quintus wasn't looking, Kham parroted Quintus' speech. 

Without looking up, Quintus said, "I saw that."


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 1b: Finally, Sweet Savona*

Sweet Savona's city gate swung into view as they rounded a bend, but they smelled they city long before they could see it.  The fragrance was neither too pungent nor too cloying, but just sweet enough to entice travelers into its gates. 

The streets were festooned with colorful stringers and banners, letting everyone known of the Saturnalia's imminent arrival. Everywhere they turned, small bridges linked the city together.  Sweet Savona was actually a series of small islands, strung together like a string of pearls.  Passengers were ferried from the main island down the Grand Canal to the other parts of the city.

The small caravan of Larissan pilgrims dismounted and entered through the Porta Amare, Savona's main gate.  At the center of the city was their destination, a ziggurat with an apex crowned by a large brazier that burned the sacred incense of the Smiling Goddess. 

Kham nudged Vlad. "The Temple of Larissa," he said.

They took a scarlet lacquered gondola to the temple and smoothly approached a paved landing occupied by a smiling and laughing crowd.  

Oriena stepped onto the platform ahead of her servants. All of them seem relieved, even the reserved Hetshapet.  Sebastian escorted Oriena onto the main road of the city.

"This is the Via Risum," Oriena said to Sebastian.  "It is also known as the Way of Laughter."

Sebastian looked around.  "It seems appropriate."

The road leading to the Larissan temple was a miniature festival unto itself. The Via was lined with open aired Tavernas, where sweet meats and fine red Savonan wines flowed like Yariss' beard.  Small vendors plied their wares along the street, selling anything from small handcrafted goods to fine delicacies, from masks to garish garments for the upcoming Saturnalia.

Quintus shot Kham a look.  "Stay focused," he said.

Kham pretended he didn't hear him.

Oriena led them unerringly through the temple's maze-like interior, passing various chambers and shrines. In one chamber, a fountain flowed with heady, golden wine.  In another, the chamber was filled with large, soft cushions and oversized divans.  Suggestive murals adorned the walls, depicting scenes that appeared to be nigh biological impossibilities. 

"Normally," Oriena explained, "the lady Meliza val'Sheem resides at the Governor's Palace, but during religious festivities she can be found here."

Oriena continued up a marble staircase to the top floor of the Temple. They passed through a small foyer into a large room that took up the entire floor.  A veritable army of attendants, scribes, and sycophants scurried about the chamber like bees attending their queen.

In the center of the ordered chaos was Meliza herself. Although she was an older woman, she had a vivaciousness and sensuality that a woman half her age could barely muster.  Her long, dark hair, braided with twin golden twine, cascaded down her left shoulder.  Meliza wore a diaphanous scarlet robe that left little to the imagination as she reclined upon a gilded throne, crafted to resemble a peacock.  One immaculately manicured hand rested upon the head of a large black leopard.


"All hail Meliza val'Sheem, Governor of the province of Cafela and High Priestess of the Temple of Larissa!" shouted a servant.  

Oriena bowed and her servants followed suit.  Everyone inclined their head except Ilmarė. 

"Holy One, I present to you Sebastian Arnyal of Canceri." She rubbed Sebastian's arm, "Sebastian and his companions helped root out and destroy the heretical cult in Coryan. He safely escorted us to here."

Quintus glanced over at Ilmarė.  She shrugged her shoulders in response.  "Burning a book apparently makes you a hero." 

Seated before Meliza in a comfortably cushioned mahogany chair was a familiar man dressed in a finely tailored white toga. 

"Decimus?" asked Quintus in surprise.

"Aurelius Ignatius!" Decimus exclaimed, rising to his feet.  "It's good to see you."  Decimus turned to face Meliza. "Holy One, it appears that the Lady of Fate has seen fit to have my path and that of these fine citizens cross again.  I have had dealings with them before and they were most capable and discreet.  Perhaps they may be able to assist my employer yet again."

Meliza appraised them through half-lidded eyes. She said but one word: "Dahhhhhling."   

The governor waved her hand in a vague gesture that could have meant she was impressed with their accomplishments or that they should be dragged out and hanged.  

Decimus cleared his throat.  "Yes, well.  Suffice it to say, lady and gentlemen, that a shipment meant for my employer was broken into.  The good senator is a collector of antiquity and wishes to recover three items that were stolen from a crate I was to receive on his behalf.  The items were a helm, a staff, and an urn from an ancient civilization, possibly Elorii."

Ilmarė, who was watching some of the servants through barely concealed disdain, snapped her head about to focus on Decimus. 

"I wish to hire you to reclaim these artifacts and bring the thieves to justice," said Decimus.  "Can I once again count upon your efficiency and discreetness?"

Quintus stepped forward.  "Having successfully discharged our duty here, we will take this task-"

Beldin stepped in front of Quintus with hands on hips. "How much will you pay?" 

Decimus favored Beldin with a smile.  "Ah, I do not believe we've met.  Well, master dwarf, I can extend 200 imperials for the safe return of the goods."

Satisfied, Beldin nodded.  

"We'll do it," said Ilmarė.  

"It's done then," said Decimus.  "One of the Governor's assistants will escort you over to Dock 18, in Little Savona.  It's just off the coast."

"Excellent," said Quintus.  "Let us… " 

The legionnaire looked at his companions. Sebastian was too busy saying goodbye to Oriena to respond.  Beldin was in conference with the assistant.  Ilmarė stood with arms crossed, facing Quintus.  Vlad and Kham were missing.

"Where's Kham and Vlad?"

Vlad walked in with one arm holding up Kham, who half-stumbled out into the chamber.

"Hi guys!" said Kham, a smile plastered across his face.  He started to walk towards the black leopard with hand outstretched. "Oooh, nice kitty."

Vlad yanked him back. 

"Don't tell me…" said Quintus.

"The fountain of wine," Ilmarė finished.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 2a: Sitting on the Dock of Savona*

A short trip across the Savonan Channel by barge brought them to the docks of Little Savona.  Being early evening, the amount of activity on the dock was almost non-existent.  Most ships had already released their cargo ferried their crews over to the mainland.  The few people still around were dockworkers taking care of some last minute business.

The assistant ushered them over to the Captain of the Guard in the warehouse where the merchandise was being held for transport.

The warehouse was a large wooden structure with only one door.  The back end of the warehouse was filled with creates and numbered 1 to 30.  One create in particular was pulled out of the ordered stacks.  

The Captain, a young woman in her mid-thirties with average Cafelan looks, stalked over to them.  "Who are you?" she said.

"I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.  I am on a mission at the behest of the Governor to investigate the theft."

The Captain was unconvinced.  "You have a writ?"

The assistant stepped forward and handed it to the Captain, then excused himself.

"Ah," she said.  "I am Captain Priscani.  We're questioning this dockworker," she pointed at a man surrounded by two other guards.  

"You believe he had something to do with the theft?" asked Quintus.

"He was one of the dockworkers on duty until early this morning.  He says that he, along with most of the skeleton crew manning the docks late last night, fell asleep.  In fact, it appears that everyone on duty fell asleep last night.  He swears he knows nothing about the robbery or the murder."

"The what?" asked Sebastian.

"The murder.  The Dockmaster was found with his throat torn out in his office."

Quintus glanced into the smaller room that was contained within the warehouse proper. 

"Did you examine the body?" asked Quintus sternly. 

"No."

"Were there any signs of forced entry?"

"We haven't-"

"Well what have you been doing all this time, Captain?" Quintus snapped.  "We'll take the investigation over from here."  

Quintus turned his back on Flavia. "Ilmarė and Kham, check the lock. Vlad and I will check the corpse.  Beldin, check the crate. Sebastian, see if you can find out more from the dockworker."

Flavia looked as if she wanted to cut Quintus in half.  "Sergeant Aquillus will assist in the investigation," she nodded towards one of the guards. Then she marched out of the room with the remaining guard in tow.

Inside the Dockmaster's office was a scene of utter carnage.  He was face down on his desk in a pool of blood.  

Vlad kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked around the room.  Quintus turned the body over.

The Dockmaster's throat had been torn sideways and it looked as if he had been thrown onto the desk after he was dead, discarded like a rag doll. 

"Something powerful did this.  Something with claws," Quintus said, pointing at the Dockmaster's ragged throat.

Vlad nodded.  "Maybe…a leopard?"

Quintus looked up at Vlad.  "Perhaps.  But this attack shows signs of intelligence. Animals go for the throat and great cats rake downwards with their hind claws.  His left arm looks broken.  I'd expect bite marks elsewhere on his body.  Whatever attacked the Dockmaster, it went straight for his throat."

"Look here," said Vlad.  He tapped a sheaf of paper.  "There's a log of every item here in these shipping documents.  The crates were supposed to be forwarded to Coryan and consigned to Decimus, but their place of origin is blank."

They went back to the center of the warehouse to find the others waiting.

Beldin reported out first.  "The crate is where they left it, in the middle of the room. It's empty except for the straw used to pack its contents."

Quintus nodded.  "Kham?"

Kham rubbed his head.  "Well, the door to the warehouse was locked, but somebody picked it.  He rubbed his finger against his thumb. "There were scrapes and shavings around the lock."

"Interesting.  Sebastian?"

"The watchman is missing.  He was a Myrantian youth who was recently hired. According to the workers, he was a bit on the thin side and had the same overall look of an average Myrantian.  The only distinguishing mark was a tattoo of a black teardrop off the corner of his left eye."

"So the Myrantian is our only lead," Quintus said with a sigh.

"Not quite," said Ilmarė. "Someone is watching us from the crow's nest of a nearby docked vessel."

"Oh really?"  Quintus walked over to the doorway.  Ilmarė pointed to a figure that ducked as it realized it was spotted.

"Simple enough, he's not going anywhere," said Quintus.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 2b: Sitting on the Dock of Savona*

They marched over to the docked ship.  No one else was on board.  Above them, a head bobbed in and out of sight.

Quintus turned to his companions.  "Okay, so who's going to climb up there?"

Ilmarė crossed her arms.  "Not I.  That's suicide."

"Beldin?"

"Dwarves aren't climbers," said Beldin with a snort.

"Vlad?"

"In this armor?  It'll take me more time to get out of it."

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes as he peered up at the crow's nest.  "No thank you."

"Kham?" Quintus muttered something under his breath as he realized Kham was missing. "Where did he go now?"

No one answered.  "Fine," he said.  "Well, I'm not going to peel off my armor to get up there either."

Quintus looked up again, only to see a young boy's face peering down at him.

He took a deep breath.  "Boy, get down here!  We're not going to hurt you!"

Upon Quintus' command, the boy clambered down out of the crow's nest and landed lightly on his feet before them.  He was obviously scared out of his wits.

Quintus smiled and got down on one knee.  "How long were you up there, son?"

"Since my father told me to hide."

"When did he tell you to hide?"

"In the wee hours of the night, a thick white fog came in," said the boy.  "It put everyone to sleep.  Father told me to hide until he came for me.  I went up this mast and waited."

"And then?"

"Then a black-hulled ship, with dark sails furled, docked in an empty slip."

Sebastian leaned down next to Quintus.  "A black-hulled ship?  Are you sure?"

The boy nodded, his cheeks streaked with old tears.  "Yes.  A man came off the ship and spoke with father.  Then father took some papers from him and pointed to that warehouse."  The boy pointed to the warehouse.  "Then the…things came."

Sebastian cursed in Cancerite.  "Harvesters," was all he said.

"The things were all spiny and scaly.  They started carrying big, heavy crates from off the ship to the warehouse.  Then the man had one of the scaly creatures grab father while another slashed at him with its claws. Then I hid because I was afraid."

Vlad shook his head.  "So much for the leopard theory."

"Can I see my father now?"

Quintus stood up.  "I think maybe he should see his mother," he said quietly.

"I'll take him," said Sebastian. He patted the boy on the head.  "Do you know how to get to your home?"

The boy nodded.  "What happened to father?"

Sebastian's lips became a thin line.  "It may be best if your mother explains," he said.  

The boy's home was not far from the warehouse.  Sebastian rapped lightly on the door.

A grieving woman, wrapped in a dark black veil, answered the door.  

"Are you the wife of the Dockmaster?"

She nodded and then saw the boy step out from behind Sebastian.

"Oh thank Larissa!" she shrieked, clutching the boy to her.  "Thank you, at least I have him."

"Mother?  What happened?" the boy asked in confusion.

Sebastian extended a purse full of coins.  "Here.  Please take these 50 imperials.  Spend it on whatever you require."

The woman took it wordlessly.  "You are a very kind man," she whispered.  She kneeled down to talk to her son.

Sebastian shut the door and turned on his heel.  

He walked quickly away, but not fast enough—Sebastian heard the wail of sorrow echoing through the streets behind him.  It was an all too familiar sound…the same gut-wrenching grief that had overcome Sebastian when his mother sacrificed herself to help him escape a Harvester attack.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 3a: Re-acquaintance With a New Friend*

Their next stop was to find the Myrantian youth, who lived in a ghetto on the southern end of the city.  Immigrants from Abessios came up to Sulpecci and Savona looking for an easier way of life, but what they got was squalor and ill treatment.  

"Where were you, anyway?" Quintus asked Kham.  His gaze was focused on a smudge of red lipstick on Kham's collarbone.

Kham buttoned up his shirt.  "Taking in the local sights," he said with a straight face. "But enough about me, you need to finish changing your clothes."

"I don't see why I have to change and no one else does," said Quintus.

Quintus had, after much convincing, changed clothes into his "normal" everyday wear.  His usual longspear, lorica segmata and shield were left behind.  He only wore his gladius and a commoner's tunic.

"That's because you represent the law in Savona.  The rest of us, even a Nierite in full armor, are just strangers here."  He looked at Quintus in the full-length mirror. "That's a little better," said Kham.  "Now, try to stop walking like you're in the military."

Quintus looked at him sideways.  "What are you talking about?  I'm totally relaxed when I walk."

Ilmarė snorted.

Quintus turned around to look at the others.  "What?"

Sebastian coughed and looked away.  Beldin stroked his beard and said nothing.

"Well, you could maybe…loosen up a little bit," said Vlad.

Quintus took a deep breath.  Then he imperceptibly lowered one shoulder.

"There, now I'm relaxed."

Kham rolled his eyes.  "Just stand in the back and let the normal people do the talking."


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 3b: Re-acquaintance With a New Friend*

The squalor of the Myrantian portion of Savona was well hidden from casual visitors and tourists. The pavement was uneven and broken in places.  The walls of the building were layered in soot and dirt.  Even the bridges connecting the very small island were cracked.  The fragrance of Savona's holy incense could not dispel the stink of human misery.

Sergeant Aquillus led them onward.  "Be careful," he said.  "This is not a safe place to be after hours."

Heads from the shadows peeked out from garbage strewn alleyways, but practiced eyes noted their bearing.  Thugs turned away to hunt weaker prey.

Aquillus pointed to a sign swaying languidly above a splintering wooden door.   "That is the ancient tongue of the Myrantians," he said.  It read, “um'Shakti."

"Um'Shakti means 'cracked or broken god'," said Ilmarė.  

Aquillus nodded.  "The um'Shakti was one of the heretical gods they worshipped before their deliverance from barbarism.  Yet, the old ways are sometimes hard to dispel, even after centuries."

Ilmarė sneered at Aquillus back.  "The new ways are not as entrenched as you may believe."

Aquillus did not reply.  Here merely pulled his cloak closer around him against the chilly evening and stood back from the door.  

"Not joining us?" asked Vlad.

The sergeant shook his head. "These vermin can smell a guardsman, even when in disguise."

"In that case, maybe you should stay out here too," said Kham to Quintus.

"Bah! I can blend in with the best of them!" said Quintus, a little too loudly.

Kham bit his lip.  "Okay, fine.  Just…don't say anything."

The Taverna, unlike the many they were accustomed to in the Coryan Empire, had no outside tables.  Given the bleak surroundings, it was probably for the best.

Inside, patrons sat upon cushions at tables that lay close to the ground.  A smoky pall hung over the entire room, complementing the sullen nature of the Taverna's inhabitants.  The scent of rank sweat mixed with that of cinnamon in a nauseating combination. 

A traditional bar extended across the west side of the room.  A heavyset man, his face glistening from a layer of oily perspiration, nodded as they entered.  At the far end of the bar, three young Myrantian women stood next to a small vertical shrine of Larissa.

"Here for the one of the girls then?" the bartender asked.  "If you want one of them to bestow Larissa's Holy Communion, it'll cost you."

Kham stepped forward before anyone else could open their mouth.  

"We're looking for a Myrantian boy," said Kham, sidling up to the bar.  "He has a teardrop tattooed under one eye."

The bartender pulled up a mug.  "Going to have something to drink?"

Kham nodded.  "Sure.  We'll all have a mug of a'Talkin."

The bartender smiled a gap-toothed smile and served up the hot, bitter mead. After everyone had their drink, the bartender leaned forward.

"That kid was always pestering one of the priestesses.  Ask Maatkare," he pointed at one of the girls with a jab of his thumb.  "But I warn you, any time spent with the girls will cost you."

Sebastian wiped his mouth and stepped forward.  "How much?"

"25 imperials."

Sebastian nodded.  "Fine," he plunked down 25 coins into his empty mug.  

Maatkare was a very pretty girl, not more than 17 summers old.  She was clad in a diaphanous short robe that left little to the imagination.  Maatkare exchanged a sad little smile with Sebastian as he walked over to her.

"I would like to speak with you for a moment," Sebastian said, returning her smile. "I'm looking for a boy with a teardrop tattoo."

Her eyes lit up. "Has anything happened to him?"

"We don't know.  He has disappeared and we want to ask him questions about missing cargo and…a death."

"A death?  I haven't seen Senmet all day."

"Is that his name, Senmet?" Sebastian asked.  "He may be in trouble.  If you can tell me where I can find him—"

"I don't think so," she said quickly.  "Now if you have business upstairs that's fine, but I'm done talking."

Just then, a woman swathed in an expensive robe and hooded cloak entered the taverna.  The scent of expensive perfume wafted around her.

The woman pulled back her hood. Sebastian recognized her.

"Hetshapet?" he said in surprise.

"Maatkare?" asked Hetshapet, striding over to them.

Sebastian looked between them.  "I take it you two know each other?"

Hetshapet hugged Maatkare tightly to her.  "Sister!  I have enough to buy you from the Myrantians!"

Maatkare wept as she clung to her older sister.

"T-they haven't been by the taverna this evening," she said.

"Hey!" the bartender said, leaning forward.  "I don't know what this sudden interest with Maatkare is all about, but nobody is taking her without Menu's authorization. Not you," he pointed at Kham, "and not you either." He pointed at Hetshapet.

Quintus took a deep breath.  "Then maybe it's time we had a little chat with this Menu."

Kham glanced sideways at him.  "I thought you were going to not talk today."

Maatkare wiped her eyes.  "I-I don't know if I can trust you," she said.

Sebastian put one hand on Hetshapet's shoulder.  "These are my friends," he said softly. "If anyone can make this right, they can.  But we can't do it without you.  Maatkare must let us know what happened to Senmet."

After a whispered exchange between Maatkare and Hetshapet, the younger sister turned to Sebastian.  "I will tell you all that I know."


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 4a: Massacre at the Old Tenement Building*

"It appears that Senmet was a recent émigré from Abessios and fell in with the wrong people," Sebastian explained as Aquillus led them to the tenement building. A garbage-strewn canal sloughed by, emitting the foul odor of human refuse as they crossed the final bridge to their destination.

"That would be Menu's gang," Kham said.

"Right," said Sebastian.  "Senmet was always very kind to her.  He even protected Maatkare when one of her clients got violent."

"How chivalrous," said Ilmarė.

"But what was he doing at the docks?" asked Vlad.

"He was letting the other thugs in whenever a big shipment of goods arrived," said Sebastian. 

"We're here," said Aquillus.  

Looming before them was a seven-story building that looked like it might collapse at any moment.  A gust of wind swirled by, tossing up a small amount of soot.  A piece of masonry flaked off the top of the building.

"You want us to go in THERE?" Kham asked in disbelief.

Sebastian nodded.  "The basement, specifically."

Few lanterns were lit in the dead of night.  Even the drunk derelicts were missing from nearby streets.  

Vlad kept his hand on the hilt of his sword and made his way inside.

The air was warm inside the building.  A lantern's meager light illuminated the hallway.  From behind a termite-infested door, a child wailed in hunger.  Next door, a couple was having a loud argument.

They walked past those scenes of misery into the basement area.  A single light illuminated the steps below.

"Careful," said Ilmarė. "It's far too silent for a basement filled with men."

Vlad reached the bottom step first.  He stood, transfixed.

It was a scene of savage carnage.  The bodies of several men lay strewn about the room, broken and shattered like rag dolls long forgotten by their owners.  

Quintus stepped past Vlad and crouched down to look at the bodies.  "Snapped bones, skulls and chests crushed.  Men didn't do this."

"Don't be so sure," said Ilmarė. "There is much evil that men can do."

"He means they're not strong enough," said Kham.  "I've seen gang wars.  They're fast and messy.  Not like this. This is…deliberate."

Beldin rolled one ragged body over and pulled forth a staff.  "I think we found our missing staff."

"And the helm." Vlad reached into the bodies and lifted a helm with the tip of his sword.  

"But no urn?" asked Quintus.

"Well, parts of it," said Sebastian.  In one corner were the remains of a thin ceramic shell.  The inside of the shell smelled like rotten eggs and the interior was covered with a thin layer of effluvia. 

"And the boy?" asked Quintus.

Vlad shook his head.  "No sign of him.  If Senmet's dead, his body isn't here."  

Ilmarė was staring at the helmet.  "The fool Decimus was right," she whispered out loud to herself.  "These artifacts are of Elorii make. I remember…"

The world swam and then all was dark.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 4b: Massacre at the Old Tenement Building*

Ilmarė was no longer Ilmarė in the swirl of memories that was the birthright of all Elorii.  She was Kildarė, a scout in service of the Nevanos the Slayer.  

Nevanos was dressed in full battle regalia, his armor spattered with black ichor.  Two large, sculpted leaves swept up on the sides of the helm and a single white feather, tipped with red, acted as its plume.  Nevanos prided himself on being visible on the battlefield to ally and enemy alike, even though it singled him out as a target.

A huge bastard sword was in both of his hands.  Nevanos was breathing hard as he yanked his blade out of the body of a massive insect-like humanoid.

"Try your mind tricks now, bug," said Nevanos.  He rapped his helmet with a gloved knuckle. "You'll find Marokene magic is much more powerful than you anticipated."  

Nevanos pointed at Kildarė with his sword.  "Kildarė!  Report!"

"These are the last, sir," she said.  "We have destroyed all of their eggs."  She had the remains of a slime-covered shell in one hand.  "With the death of the queen, the ilHuan threat will finally be eliminated."

"Don't you mean murdered?" asked Endrade, walking up behind her.  His hands and staff were covered in the same black ichor.  "Nevanos, this is wrong.  Whatever quarrel we have with these people, they have as much a right to live as we do.  This is no longer a war, you have turned it into some sort of mad quest for genocide."

Nevanos stalked over to him.  "You would rob me of my victory?"  He sneered at Endrade.  "But you are correct, I have been selfish.  The Ardakene should also share in the glory."

He looked over at the insectoid body.  "The ilHuan queen is still alive.  Finish it off."

Endrade clutched his staff with both hands.  Nevanos grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved the Ardakene towards the body of the ilHuan.  

Endrade stumbled over to the queen's body.  Its chest rose in long, shuddering gasps.

"Go on, finish it," said Nevanos. "Then you can be known in the history books as Endrade the Merciful."

Endrade placed his staff on the ilHuan queen's multifaceted head, as if to strike her.  It was a gnarled staff made of a single branch of wood, topped by the carving of an Elorii maiden's head. A soft gold glow emanated from its tip and flowed across the ilHuan's body.

"You mean to heal it!" Nevanos shouted.  " Now I have proof of your treachery!" 

"It is true," Endrade shouted back.  "I have healed all who needed it, Elorii and ilHuan alike.  This war is wrong, Nevanos, and you have gone mad with power!"

Nevanos pointed at Kildarė.  "As Marokene warlord, I find Endrade guilty of treason in service to the Elorii Empire.  Execute him."

Kildarė reluctantly took her bow off of her shoulder and knocked an arrow.  She took careful aim at Endrade's head.

"I don't want to do this, Endrade," she said through clenched teeth.  "Put the staff down."

Endrade smiled up at her. The glow grew stronger from the staff as the Queen's wounds began to close.  "You knew me well, once.  You know I can't."

Tears streamed down Kildarė’s face. "It doesn't have to be this way!" 

Nevanos walked up behind her.  "Do it," he said.

"We have hidden the eggs in a place where you will never find them!" Endrade said, the whites of his eyes showing as he gazed unflinchingly at Kildarė's arrow.  "They will survive in spite of your mad-"

A shuddering shaft sprouted from Endrade's forehead.  He fell backwards, finally silenced.

"Well done," Nevanos said from behind Kildarė, one hand on her shoulder. "You will get a commendation for this."  

Kildarė whirled around, her bow forgotten, fists clenched.  Just then, the ilHuan Queen rose up on its haunches behind Nevanos…


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 5a: An Unruly Mob*

Ilmarė held herself tightly as Aquillus headed off to report to his superiors.  They stood at the front of the taverna. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Quintus.

"I'm fine," said Ilmarė. She kept the details of her vision to herself. "Worry more about the wallflowers inside."

Her warning was followed by the sound of shattering glass.  A bottle skittered across the road.

Kham and Vlad exchanged glances.  Kham took out both of his gonnes and nodded.

Vlad kicked the door open.  The scene within was one of volatile chaos.

At one end of the room, with their backs to the Larissan shrine, was Hetshapet protecting her younger sister Maatkare.  Surrounding them was an unruly mob.  Some shouted accusations.  Others had broken bottles in their hands.  The bartender lay in a heap on the floor between both groups, a large gash across his forehead.

Sebastian stepped forward and began gesticulating.  "I'll take care of this."

Kham lowered Sebastian's arms with one of his handgonnes.  "Oh no you don't.  I'm not having you casting spells in here."

"She is to blame for the disappearances!" someone shouted.  "She must answer for her crimes!"

Quintus raised his voice.  "Excuse me, but…"

"All the men who vanished had communed with Maatkare, it must be her!" someone else shouted.

"If you would all just…" Quintus shouted.

"Let's kill her now before she takes anyone else!" a third shouted.

Quintus threw up his hands in disgust.  He nodded towards Kham. 

Kham pointed both of his handgonnes at the ceiling. 

BLAM! BLAM!

The crowd went silent and turned to look at them.  Wood and dust fell from the ceiling.

Kham looked around at them and smiled, his handgonnes still smoking.

"Much better," said Quintus. "Now we're going to leave with the two ladies.  The murders are being investigated.  But this is not the way to handle it."

The mob warily edged back from the two women.  Sebastian ushered them out of the taverna.

Vlad closed the door behind them as they left. 

"That's how you get results through the magic of intimidation," Kham said to Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 6a: Bait*

"Are you sure it's safe?" asked Maatkare, peering into the darkened streets and alleys that loomed around them.

"Absolutely," said Sebastian.  "My companions are quite capable."

"Whatever is stalking you, it would have to be very foolish to attack us," said Vlad.  

"Don't be so sure," said Ilmarė, her eyes focused on the rooftops.

"What?" asked Quintus.

"We're being followed," she said.

"Followed?" Hetshapet asked, her voice rising in panic.

Ilmarė slowly reached behind her and took a bow out of her quiver.

"Everyone stay calm," said Quintus.  "We don't want to want to give away our trap."

"Trap?" said Maatkare.  "You mean you've been using me as bait?"

Kham put both hands into the pockets of his overcoat.  "Bait's such a strong word."

Ilmarė shrugged her bow off of her shoulder, but the gesture was so smooth that it looked as if she was merely carrying it in one hand.

Maatkare whirled on Sebastian. "You knew about this too?"

Sebastian put his hands up in surprise.  "I did not."

"Ilmarė, now!" shouted Quintus.

In a flash, Ilmarė knocked an arrow as she drew her bow.  The arrow whistled through the air and thudded into the darkness.  An inhuman screech arose from the rooftops, confirming the hit.

"It's on the move!" she shouted.  A strangely malformed body leaped from the roof overhead as bits of tile tinkled to the ground.

Quintus took off at a sprint, unhindered by his usually bulky armor.  

"He is going to get so lost," said Kham. He ran after Quintus, his coat billowing behind him. 

Hetshapet poked Sebastian in the chest.  "Did the rest of you know about this?"

Vlad drew his sword with a SHIIING!  "No," he said with a frown, "but I'm catching up fast."  He jogged off into the darkness.

Beldin shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me.  Nobody tells me anything."

"Nor I," said Sebastian.  "I get the distinct impression they don't fully trust us yet.  Or perhaps it's a human prejudice.  Isn't that right Ilmarė?"

There was no response.  

"Where's Ilmarė?"


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 6b: Bait*

The misshapen stalker leapt like a gazelle from rooftop to rooftop.  Quintus was breathing hard, running at full sprint.  

The thing abruptly turned and jumped over Quintus' head onto a nearby rooftop.

"It's fast," said Quintus, panting.

"Getting tired already old man?" Kham said as he jogged past him.  "Don't feel too bad, Vlad's huffing and puffing back there under that full plate."

They turned down another into a dark alley.  "I'm used to carrying a full legionnaire's kit," Quintus said through clenched teeth.  "This is a warm-up."

"Well," said Kham, ducking down another alley with Quintus close behind.  "You better get ready, because the real fun's about to start.  You go left, I'll go right, we'll catch it on the bridge."

And with that he ran off into darkness.

"I hope you know Savona better than I do," said Quintus.  He had long since lost track of where he was in the chaos of the pursuit.

A rank smell assaulted Quintus' nostrils as he came upon the bridge.  A slime-filled canal was below them, choked with refuse. Across the bridge, Quintus could make out Kham's outline.  His handgonnes were out.

Quintus put the back of one hand to his nose and drew his gladius with the other.

The thing skidded to a halt at the middle of the bridge, its outline barely visible against the night sky.  Only the absence of a few stars provided any hint of its presence.  It was wheezing.

"Give up," said Quintus.  "You've got nowhere to run!"

The thing crouched down, as if retreating into the darkness. Emboldened by its cowardly behavior, Quintus took another step forward.

"Quintus," said Kham, "I don't think that's such a—"

Then it sprang.  It dove off the bridge with a splash and crawled into a large sewer pipe beneath the bridge.

"Well," said Kham with a sigh, "I guess that's that. It's pitch black in there.  There's no way we'll be able to keep track of it."

Quintus sheathed his gladius.  He put two hands over his head and chanted, "Illiir, dux duco per tui lumis!"

One of Quintus' hands glowed with an unearthly light, a color Kham had never seen before.  

"What are you doing?"

"This is the Light of Illiir.  It can both help and harm.  For now, it's helping." Quintus looked around, using his hand as a spotlight.  "There," he said, pointing at a ladder.  "We can use that to get down."

"Are you insane?  This is suicide!  Do you have any idea what kind of disgusting things live in those sewers?"

Quintus jogged over to the rail and grabbed hold of both handles.  "We're wasting time talking," said Quintus.  "Come on!"

And with that, he slid down the ladder with both hands.

Kham paced back and forth.  "This is crazy.  He's going to get himself killed."

A lithe shape scaled down the ladder behind him.

"I don't believe this, now I'm starting to sound like Quintus," Kham said.  He took a deep breath and then gagged.  "Well ladies," he said, stuffing his handgonnes back in their holsters.  "Keep your heads down, your mouths closed, and try not to get wet."

Kham clambered down the ladder after Quintus.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 7a: Into the Sewers*

The drainage pipe was small enough that Quintus had to crouch, but Kham had no difficulties.  It went on for a few yards before letting out into the stone sewers of Savona.  A five-foot ledge ran along either side of the sewage stream.  Rats and other vermin squeaked at the intrusion.

"There," said Quintus, pointing with his glowing hand.  He illuminated a trail of blood that ran across the side of the sewer wall.

"Looks like human blood," said Kham, both handgonnes out.  "And that looks like a human handprint." There was a pattern in blood of a palm, four fingers, and a thumb smeared along the wall.

"If it's wounded we may be able to catch up to it," said Quintus.

Quintus jogged down the side of the sewage stream, but he was hindered by the many clumps of refuse that lined the walkway.  

Kham shook his head and ran after him.  He abruptly stopped as Quintus stood at an intersection.

"The blood trail ends here," said Quintus.  He stood with one hand out illuminating the sewer, the other holding his gladius.  "There's only one thing to do.  We'll have to split up.  You go left, I'll go right."

"I don't think that's a very good…uh oh."

Quintus turned to look at Kham.  "What?"

"Stay…very, very still."

A long, sinuous tentacle topped by three bulging eyeballs swayed behind Quintus' head.

"What is it?"

"Just…don't…move," said Kham, aiming one of his handgonnes.  "If you stay still I think I can hit it."

"HIT. WHAT," said Quintus, tensing up.

The three eyes widened and ducked into the sewage with a splash. 

Quintus spun around.  "What was that?"

"I don't know," said Kham, "but it's not good.  We better go."

Quintus scanned the water with his light.  "Go where?"

Quintus yelped. Then the light bobbed and weaved in crazy directions.  

There was a flash and for a brief moment Kham was eye to eye with Quintus—upside-down. 

A gurgling roar echoed around them as a lamprey-like maw erupted from the sewage stream beneath Quintus.

"Legionnaire is officially off the menu!" Kham shouted.  

BLAM! BLAM!  He fired both gonnes into the maw.  It convulsed shut and submerged again, dragging Quintus down with it.

"Shoot it!" shouted Quintus before he was dragged beneath the surface of the sewage.  Under the slime, the light illuminated a massive, bulbous body connected to two tentacles.

"I just did!" Kham leaped backwards as a suckered tentacle slapped wetly against the ledge where he stood.  He shoved the two spent handgonnes into their holsters and withdrew two more.

Quintus erupted from the filth, dripping wet.  A tentacle was wrapped around his sword arm.  "That's it!" he shouted.  

Quintus pointed one glowing finger at the base of the tentacle.  

"No!” said Kham in rising panic, “Wait! I need that to…"

"May the Light of Illiir strike you down!" shouted Quintus.  The illumination that haloed his hand shot out in a bolt to sear the tentacle.

The divine energy spent, everything went dark.

"…see," said Kham.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 7b: Into the Sewers*

Sebastian and his entourage stood over the bridge.  The women had perfumed handkerchiefs to their noses. A roar echoed deep in the bowels of the sewer.  

Sebastian smiled at the two women.  "I think they've got it on the run."

There was the loud retort of two firearms.

"Why the hell would you DO that?" shouted Kham. 

Beldin and Sebastian exchanged a look.  "I'm sure they'll be fine," said Sebastian.

"Just hit it!" came Quintus's voice from below.  A lot of gurgling and splashing noises followed.

"You said your companions were quite capable," said Maatkare.  "But capable of what?"

"Getting themselves into trouble," Beldin said sourly.

 "Hold still dammit!" echoed Vlad's voice from the sewer. 

Sebastian's smile faded.  "I'm sure they'll be fine."


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 8: Bug Hunt*

"Just a reminder," said Ilmarė.  "Humans cannot see in the dark."

Quintus was drenched in filth.  He wiped his mouth.  "I'm well aware, thank you."

"So what's giving off that light?" asked Kham.  He pointed to a sickly greenish glow at the end of the tunnel system with one of his handgonnes. 

Clicking noises answered them.  

The central waterway of the tunnel flowed into a large pool that flowed in three different directions ahead of them.  Across the way, pipes discharged sewage back into the pool.  Amidst the pipes, large man-sized cocoons pulsed with a sickly green light. Squatting in the back of the chamber was a twisted hybrid being.

It was over five feet in height, but only partially covered in a chitinous armor.  One arm was enlarged to four times its normal size, while three-quarters of its face had been transformed into an insect-like visage.  One eye was multi-faceted, while twin mandibles grew out of its extended mouth.

"IlHuan," Ilmarė whispered.

The ilHuan stood and lifted both of its hands in a sign of peace.  It spoke in a clicking, rasping voice.

"Hold!" it said.  "Peace!  I have no quarrel with you.  I am of the ilHuan and mean you no harm."

Kham looked over at Ilmarė.  "Wow, for once the elf's right."

Suddenly, the creature convulsed slightly.  "Please," it said in a very human voice.  "My name is Senmet.  Help me!"

Vlad kept his sword and shield out before him.  "Well, I think we know what happened to Senmet."

"And we know who was stalking the others," said Quintus, keeping his gladius before him. 

Ilmarė removed her bow and knocked an arrow. 

"Whoa!" said Kham, standing in front of her.  "What are you doing?"

The Elorii said nothing.  She kept her arrow at the ready.

"I see the butchers still live," came the human, clipped voice.  "Kill them while you can, humans.  If not, they will rise up and destroy you as they did us."

"Who is 'us', exactly?" asked Kham.

The human voice was in control.  "I was part of Menu's gang," the Senmet-voice said in pained tones.  "We opened the crates and found the urn.  I found a half-dozen green spheres inside, but they were so fragile that I shattered one.  I got some of the goo that was inside of the egg on me…" A series of clicks interrupted the dialogue as Senmet was overcome by a seizure.

"I can guess what happened next," Ilmarė said.  "The ilHuan could only partially gestate in its human host.  It used Senmet to capture the others as hosts."  She looked over at the cocoons.  

"The butcher is correct," the insectoid voice said. "But we took only the humans this body despised to give the ilHuan a chance to live again.”

“Menu’s gang,” Kham sniffed.  “Looks like Senmet didn’t particularly like how they treated his girlfriend.”

“We have no more eggs to incubate,” the ilHuan said. “We merely seek to live in peace and find the rest of the hidden cache of eggs."

Senmet twitched again and the human voice spoke.  "Please, I can already feel it taking over the rest of my body.  Kill me," he pleaded, "don't let me live like this!"

"Illiir's grace," Quintus said under his breath.  

"I will put you out of your misery," said Ilmarė, bow taut.

"Of course you would, butcher," the insectoid voice replied.  "I expect no mercy from you, any more than that you showed Endrade."

Vlad looked back and forth between Senmet and Ilmarė.  "Do you two know each other?"

"It was a long time ago," she said.

Senmet turned to the others.  "Would you not risk all, do anything, to assure the survival of your race?  We ask only to be left alone and in peace.  We have learned that your people live upon the ground and only rarely venture below.  The ilHuan live mostly underground and rarely travel above.  Is it not logical, then, that of all the intelligent races that exist in this place, humans and ilHuan can peacefully coexist? "

Kham lowered his gonnes.  "Well this just ruins everything.  I can't kill this…whatever it is."

Quintus looked at him sideways.  "Why not?  You heard him—he wants to die.  It's our duty to arrest Senmet and bring him in for questioning."

"But that would be the end of the ilHuan," said Vlad. 

"I say we kill them all," said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*The Seeds of Our Destruction - Part 9: Conclusion*

"Well, that worked out," said Vlad from across the table.  "200 imperials isn't too bad for a filthy day's work."  Vlad's share of the reward was arranged in a neat pile in front of him. 

"And Hetshapet and Maatkare are free of Menu's gang," said Sebastian, sipping some tea.

"We also reclaimed two important Elorii artifacts," said Kham, careful to not look at Ilmarė.  "Where are those artifacts anyway?"

On the other side of the table, Quintus kept his arms crossed.  

"Decimus entrusted the helm and staff to me," Quintus replied.  "I wouldn't want you to…lose them," he said with pointed emphasis.

Kham coughed.  "Well if you'll excuse me, tonight's the Counting of the Kisses and I've got a title to claim." He rose from the table and nodded to Vlad.  "Coming?"

Vlad blushed as the others looked at him.  He had switched to his civilian clothes. "Uh, yeah," he said after a moment. 

"Keep him out of trouble," said Quintus. 

"We're lucky if we can find any trouble.  I still can't scrub that awful smell off of me," said Kham as he left.  They had all worked hard to clean up afterwards but Quintus could still smell the stink of the sewer in his nostrils. 

Vlad pushed off from the table and followed Kham.

"I think we made a mistake," said Ilmarė.  "May you all not live long enough to see the folly of your decisions."

"Don't look at me, I wasn't there," said Beldin, stroking his beard. 

"Nor was I," said Sebastian.  "But I wonder why the Harvesters were involved.  And what interest did they have in the eggs?  Perhaps Menu and his gang thwarted a greater evil from happening thanks to their greed."

Ilmarė rubbed her temples.  "I'm going to bed."  She stood up and walked upstairs to her room.

Quintus excused himself and followed her.

"Ilmarė," he said in the hallway.  "Wait."

She sighed and turned to face him.  "We should have killed them when we had the chance."

Quintus nodded.  "That may be so.  I committed a sin of omission by not telling Decimus what we saw. But that is not why I wanted to speak with you."

Ilmarė arched a delicate eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Wait here, I have something for you," he said. He ducked into his room and returned with something behind his back. 

"What is it?" she said.

"I wanted to give you these," said Quintus.  He handed her the Elorii helm and staff.  

Tears welled up in Ilmarė's eyes.  "I thought legionnaires sold booty from their campaigns," she said.

"They do," Quintus responded.  "But I do not sell gifts."

"Just because I'm an Elorii does not mean I have a right to these possessions."

Quintus frowned.  "That's not why I gave them to you," he said.  After a long pause, he bid her good night and closed the door to his room.

It was only then that Ilmarė read the note tucked into the helmet: "Happy Mille Basiare."

Ilmarė hugged the artifacts tightly to her.  She stood there for a long moment.  Then she turned and walked quickly into her room, shutting the door behind her.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Introduction*

This is the fourth Hard Point of the tournament module, "Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight," written by Henry Lopez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Our cast of characters includes:

·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human Clr3), played by Mike Tresca (that's me): http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf Brd3), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Vlad Martell (human Ftr2), played by Matt Hammer.

Our DM is Robert Taylor, a gaming legend in his own time: http://www.storyboardz.net.  

Due to a change in location, our party was cut to half.  Fortunately, we were able to handle the majority of challenges without too much trouble.

What’s interesting about this adventure is that it seems like we did everything wrong.  The reality was that we did everything RIGHT by not doing something really foolish.  Unfortunately, one of the strange inconsistencies in the adventure is the likelihood a party is going to want to talk with any NPCs in a home they’re obviously there to rob.

This was one of those adventures that Quintus was uncomfortable with (starting to see a pattern here) but that he justified because, “we’re stealing from demons.”  Legion law doesn’t quite apply.  Indeed, this is the first time all three characters were ever transported to another plane of existence.  

The other problem is that nobody trusts Decimus anymore.  He hangs out with some disreputable company (see the last adventure) and seems to refer to “my employer” a lot.  As the past few adventures have shown, anyone who refers to “my employer” instead of “Bob, the guy who hired me” is usually hiding something.  Something big.

In this adventure, that Big Secret begins to unravel…


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Prologue*

Quintus sat rigidly at the table across from Ilmarė.  They were the only ones in that corner of the taverna.

Vlad stumbled his way over to their table, rubbing his eyes.

“Rough night,” said Quintus matter-of-factly.  He did not look up.

Vlad pulled up a chair.  “You could say that,” he said, running one hand through his hair.  “The note said to meet you here.  Where are the others?”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  “I thought they were with you.”

Vlad shook his head.  “The last person I saw was Kham.  And I don’t think he’ll be joining us on any missions any time soon.”

“Don’t tell me…” said Ilmarė. 

“He was named the Consort of Larissa,” said Quintus.  “Great. We won’t see him for a week.”

“The good news is that I found the stolen blackpowder,” said Vlad.  “It was part of Menu’s theft.  I’m off the hook until the Duke needs me again.  So here I am.”

“That doesn’t explain why Beldin and Sebastian weren’t invited,” said Ilmarė. 

“I can explain everything, my friends,” said Decimus with a smile as he walked over to their table. He appeared no worse for wear from the Saturnalia, although they had all seen him indulging in wine, food and dance as much as the next follow.  

Decimus’ usual smiling face was replaced by one lined with years of stress and responsibility. 

“It has come to my attention that the man I have worked for since I was a boy is involved in plots, plots to which I can no longer turn a blind eye.”

“And who is your employer, Decimus?” asked Quintus.  “I thought he was a senator, but lately I am not so sure.  You’ve been keeping strange company.”

Decimus pulled up a chair and sat down.  “A fair question.  My employer is none other than Senator Dominarin val’Sheem.  He is a powerful man, said to have the ear of the Emperor himself.”

“And he will not let you simply quit his service?” asked Ilmarė.

“One does not simply leave his household. You see, generations ago, my great grandfather came to Savona and incurred horrible debts; debts that he had no means of repaying.  That was when Dominarin’s grandfather stepped in and paid off his obligations.  In return, he purchased my family’s service until the debt was repaid.”

Vlad whistled.  “That must be some debt.”

Decimus nodded.  “Although I’m treated like a valuable assistant to the Senator, I chaff at being another man’s property, especially when my poor mother and siblings toil away in his manor and on his fields like common slaves. It has been years and still we have not paid off the debt.  At this rate, we never will.”

“And you want us to find a means of repaying him?” asked Quintus.

“Yes,” said Decimus.  “Something so valuable that he would free my family from slavery.  But I must warn you: the object I require is in the demesne of a Devil Prince-“

“A what?” asked Vlad.

Decimus put up one hand.  “Before you object, know that my information indicates the Prince is away from his fortress.”

“Oh, that makes it much better,” said Ilmarė.  “Not just a Prince, but a Devil Prince.  Or is that a princely devil?  Just how are we supposed to retrieve this object if he is not of this world?”

“I will arrange for you to be safely transported to and from his tower,” said Decimus.  “You only need to make your way to his library, where he keeps the Chalice of Midnight.  Once you have it in your hands, I will transport you back, safe and sound.”

“We are no longer in the val’Tensen family’s good grace,” said Quintus, peering into his mug.  “I don’t see how this will help our plight.”

Decimus looked surprised.  “Quite the contrary, I have heard only good things about you.  The blame lies with General Menisis’ nephew, Gaius.  I envision great things in your career, Signifer Quintus Aurelius Ignatius.”

Quintus’ eyes narrowed at the mention of his title.  

“How much?” asked Ilmarė.

“I don’t have much to repay you with, but I will gladly give you my life’s savings.”

“How much?” Vlad asked, rubbing his forehead.  Whether his headache was from the prodigious amount of drink from the night before or the business proposal before him was unclear.

“Three thousand Imperials,” Decimus said flatly.

Ilmarė froze.  “Three…thousand?”

“It’s a deal,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 1: Through the Looking Glass*

A carriage transported them all to Grand Coryan.  Decimus had a small adjoining apartment in the senator’s river villa by the Corvis.  A young boy greeted them at the door and led them through the small living quarters, down a flight of stairs to a basement level.  

The chamber was at least twice the size of the upstairs quarters, adorned with banners depicting the glyphs and sigils of Sarish.  An immense yellow magic circle was drawn on one of the chamber walls.  

“That’s a summoning circle,” said Ilmarė, eyes narrowed.

Decimus stood before the circle, yellow chalk in hand.  He was adorned in the flowing purple robes of a Sarishan priest.

“Very perceptive, Elorii. Actually, it’s a critical component of a portal spell.  When I finish the ritual, it will open and allow you passage to the plane beyond.”

“You never mentioned you were a Sarishan priest,” said Quintus, folding his arms.

“Yes, my family was originally from the province that is now Canceri.  When the schism occurred centuries ago, my family spoke out against it and were force to flee the renegade province.”

“Well, that’s one mystery solved,” said Vlad.  “You’re not fond of the Cancerites, so you didn’t invite Beldin or Sebastian.”

Decimus gave a slight smile.  “My family has always been faithful to the Lord of Secrets.  Senator Dominarin made saw that I was instructed in the ways of the clergy of Sarish when it became clear that I had the calling.”

“This is highly irregular, Decimus,” said Quintus.

“Yes, it is.  I realize a lot of this is difficult to comprehend.  But you must trust me, as you have trusted me before.”

Quintus unfolded his arms, but his brow was still furrowed.  

“Don’t worry,” said Decimus.  “I’m not going to send you leaping into Nier’s Plane of Eternal Fire.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” said Ilmarė.

“Take this sandstone.”  Decimus handed Quintus a small, brown stone.  “When you are ready to return, go back to the location where you arrived, crush the sandstone to powder, and cast it into the air before you.  The portal will reappear and transport you back here.”

“What of this place?” asked Ilmarė, her voice rising. “Can we even breathe there?”

“Yes of course,” said Decimus a little too quickly.  “My informants have reported that the Devil Prince’s home is comparable to Onara in air and temperature.”

“Your informants?” asked Quintus.  “You’ve never been there yourself?”

Decimus swallowed.  “No, I have not.  But you have endured so much and been victorious at every turn that I know you can succeed.”

He turned to face the magic circle and began chanting a lengthy incantation.   Ilmarė took a step back and conferred with her companions.

“I don’t like this,” said Ilmarė.  “What if he’s sending us to our deaths?”

“That may be,” said Quintus, “but Decimus has proven to be a man of his word, even if he does keep many secrets.”

“And he’s promising a lot of gold,” said Vlad.  “I’ve never seen a thousand Imperials before.”

Finally, the symbols adorning the wall began to glow in a hot, purplish hue.  The stones started to ripple, like a pool disturbed by a pebble. 

“Well,” said Quintus with a deep breath, “I’m not going to stand around here wondering if we made the right decision.  We came this far, so I will lead.  It’s your choice if you wish to follow.”

He stepped through the magic circle and vanished.

Ilmarė didn’t hesitate.  She walked right behind Quintus through the portal.

Vlad shook his head in disbelief.  “I must have missed something,” he muttered to himself.  Then he followed his two comrades into hell.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 2: Bearding the Lion in its Den*

Traveling through the portal was not nearly as electrifying as a Gate of Anshar, but they were disoriented nevertheless.  

“Well, at least we can breathe,” said Ilmarė, rubbing her nose.  “But the air tastes wrong.”

“Metallic,” said Quintus, “like blood.”

They stood on a stone balcony, the third floor of a keep.  It seemed to be daytime, but there was no sun to cast a shadow.  The clouds whisked by at a furious rate despite the lack of wind. 

“Interesting weather.” Vlad shielded his eyes as he looked up.

A large tower spiraled above them for another fifty feet out of the center of the keep.  A glowing orb, burning with a terrible light, capped the tower.  The light extended for many miles, its long cone centered on the keep, perfect in its circumference except for the area above the tower.

“What is that black cloud?” asked Quintus.

A dark cloud sliced through the cone of light, roiling with conflict.  Within, hordes of Infernal beings were locked in a war with dark, unseen things that flashed in and out of the cloud.  

“There are…things in the clouds,” said Ilmarė, squinting.  “Bronze razor-edged arms and claws. The Infernals are fighting them.  They are led by…well that must be our unwitting host.” A giant being, beautiful in his battle raiment, terrible in his wrath, struck down all who opposed him. 

There was a harsh command from below them.  A vast courtyard that adjoined the keep was filled with powerful devils, cracking whips over the heads of newly arrived Infernals. More and more arrived through portals, large and brutish, short and vicious, all of them in horrible pain from the mark of Sarish that branded each of their brows.  

“Slaves?” Vlad exclaimed.  “They’re fighting a war with slaves?”

“Infernals,” said Quintus, “summoned by Sarishans.  Let there be no doubt, the Infernals would kill you if they had the chance.”

Three identical bald, ageless Vals were adorned in sigils and glyphs from shoulder to palm.  Their steady chanting ensured a steady flow of Infernals from three summoning circles that were herded out into the conflict beyond.

“Perhaps we should focus on the mission,” said Ilmarė, taking a step back towards double doors that led into the tower, “before one of those things decides to focus on us.”


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 3a: Gallery*

Beyond the double doors was the keep proper, with a stairwell in the center that led up and down the length of the tower.  Divans, chairs, and small tables were everywhere.  Rich and luxurious tapestries stood in mute testament of their master’s might.

Quintus crouched with his spear out.  “Be careful, it’s likely the place is trapped.”

Ilmarė walked over to a mural on the western side of the gallery, hands on hips.  “That’s interesting,” she said.

“What?” asked Quintus.

“In the tapestries, the Devil Prince is holding a very ornate lyre in his left hand in every scene.”

“So?” asked Vlad.

“He always seems to have his finger poised on the fourth string from the left.”

“I didn’t know you were familiar with the lyre,” Quintus said, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Ilmarė said with the slightest hint of a smile. “But look at the mural here.”

The mural was of the same dread lord standing upon the carcass of a massive dragon, his shining blade stuck deep into the mythic beast while his head was thrown up to the heavens.  He played a lyre in his hands.

“Why are we looking at artwork again?” asked Quintus.  “There could be guards—“

Ilmarė huffed and walked over to the mural.  The Elorii turned to stare at Quintus as she pushed on the fourth string of the lyre on the mural.  

Sure enough, a soft grinding sound revealed a doorway in the northwestern portion of the mural. 

Ilmarė put both palms up and smiled.  Then she gestured at the doorway. ”Well, go on. I found the door, so the least you can do is check it out.”

“Makes sense,” said Vlad.  “If I were a devil lord, I’d hide a magic chalice behind a secret door.”

After shooting Vlad a glare, Quintus stepped through the secret door into the room beyond.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 3b: The Shrine to Cadic*

Inside, two large braziers hanging from the ceiling somberly lighted the chamber.  A low altar rested on a raised platform against the far western wall.  Hanging upon the wall above the altar was an object draped with a long, black velvet cloth. Off to either side of the altar were two small marble basins on three-foot high stands.

Quintus slowly lifted the cloth off wall with the tip of his longspear.  He unveiled a smooth disc cut and polished from a single block of black malachite.

“The symbol of Cadic,” said Ilmarė.  

“The god of murder,” said Quintus.  He gently placed the cloth back over the holy symbol.

“What’s in the basins?” asked Vlad, walking over to one and peeking in.

“Don’t touch them,” said Quintus.

“Looks like water to me,” said Vlad.  “Perhaps we should take some…”

“Don’t touch it,” said Quintus.  “What do you think a god of murder drinks?  Mead?”

Vlad took a step back.  “Good point.”

Out of his line of sight, the water roiled with an oily black substance that encompassed both basins.

“I make it a point of never drinking from a devil’s basin, especially when we seek to rob him of a prized possession,” said Quintus.  “Let’s go.”

As they walked back out of the room, Ilmarė said, “It’s a shame you are not willing to test it.  It could also be a boon, as a reward to his faithful followers.” 

As the secret door closed shut behind her, the water in the basins turned crystal clear again.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 3c: Entry to the Tower*

Ilmarė put one palm out behind her in warning.  “Shh!”

Vlad and Quintus exchanged looks as Ilmarė put her ear to the door.  She nodded, pointed at the door, and put up two fingers and a thumb.  

Quintus waved Ilmarė back.  He pointed to Vlad, then pointed at the door.  He nodded towards Ilmarė.

Ilmarė lifted two fingers and a thumb.  Quintus lowered his spear.

Ilmarė lifted two fingers.  Vlad advanced on the door.

Ilmarė lifted one finger.  Vlad smashed open the double doors with his shield as Quintus thrust his spear forward.

Two squat-looking, blubbery humanoids charged at them.  They were almost entirely hairless, with flesh that hung limply off their bones and a mouth ringed with small fangs.  Behind them was a distinctly feline-looking humanoid with a thin membrane that ran from its wrist to its waist.

The nearest dretch moaned and raised its fork-like claws to attack.  Vlad sliced it nearly in half and it went down in an explosion of ichor.

One of Ilmarė’s arrows sprouted out of the other dretch’s eye, but it showed no indication of even noticing the attack.  Quintus speared it as the dretch lunged forward and drove it backwards.

“Take out the leader!” shouted Quintus.

Vlad crouched and advanced on the cat-like commander, keeping his shield up.  To his surprise, the cat-man launched itself into the air over his head…

Quintus withdrew his spear from the corpse of the dretch just in time to raise it again, catching the commander in midflight.  Two javelins clanked off of Quintus’ shield.

“I didn’t know these things could fly!” Vlad shouted back.

The commander hissed and rolled to the ground as more of Vlad struck at the space it had just vacated.

It spun and crouched for another leap.  

“Vlad, hit it before it jumps a—”

The commander was airborne again, two more javelins aimed at Quintus’ throat.  He couldn’t bring up his shield in time to block the attack.

There was a wet crunch as the feline-like humanoid fell to the ground; an arrow shaft jutted out of its forehead.

“Well, at least the cat-things aren’t immune to arrows,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 3d: The Arena*

A large, forty-foot square cage dominated the room beyond.  The iron bars of the cage glowed with a strange phosphorescence.  

“A zoo?” asked Vlad, examining the bars more closely.  

“An arena,” said Ilmarė with a frown.  “Look at the marks.” 

Signs of battle were evident from the numerous gouges and claw marks on the bars.

“And it’s still occupied,” said Quintus.  “There’s something in the cage here.”

On the eastern wall were five smaller cages.  Unlike the larger cage, they had no bars at all, just barriers of light.  A large, powerful creature rested in a fetal position within.

Vlad walked over to take a closer look.  “What is it?”

The thing was seemingly encased in burnished bronze, with arms edged with sharp razors and the rest of its body covered in spines of different shapes and sizes.  Most striking of all was its complete lack of facial features: no eyes, nose, or mouth.

“That’s one of the creatures from the black cloud outside,” said Ilmarė.  She was flipping through a journal on a small table.  “It looks like the Infernals tested themselves by fighting them.  There’s a column of Infernal names here and a time count in the other.”

“Really,” said Quintus.  “What’s the highest time?”

“One hour, 34 minutes,” said Ilmarė.  

“Not bad,” said Vlad with a hint of admiration in his voice.  “That thing looks nasty.”

Vlad walked over to the southern wall, covered in a large array of weapons.  

“Quintus, look at this.  These gladiuses have no blades.  They’re just light.”

Quintus still had his eye on the creature.  He walked slowly towards Vlad without turning his back on it.  

He managed to tear his gaze from the beast to look at the glowing gladiuses on the wall. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Quintus.  “Don’t touch—“

Vlad was already swinging the glowing gladius around.  “Light as a feather,” he said, smiling at Quintus.  

Quintus sighed and shook his head.  “This place could be trapped.  We’ve been lucky so far.”

“Oh, I don’t think they bothered to trap these,” said Vlad.  Then he thrust the blade into Quintus’ ribs.

“Illiir!” shouted Quintus, looking down in shock at the hilt protruding from his torso.  

“It’s completely harmless,” said Vlad.  “Passes right through flesh and steel.”

Quintus swallowed hard as Vlad withdrew the blade with a smirk. 

“That’s not funny,” was all he said.

“Maybe not,” said Vlad.  “But I think we should take them.  Who knows, if those things live in darkness maybe these blades are effective.”  He took one and thrust it into his weapons belt.  “Best of all, you never need to sheathe them.”

He dutifully handed Quintus the other gladius, hilt first.

Quintus muttered something under his breath and took it.  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 4a: The Library*

Quintus edged open the door and peered inside.  “I’m not sure how,” he said, “but the darkness appears to be flowing out of this room.”

The room was lit in a perpetual state of gloom, as if by a half-dozen candles, despite the lack of a light source.  

“Looks like a library,” said Vlad, stepping into the room behind Quintus.

There was a comfortable-looking desk and chairs on the western wall.  Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered everywhere else.

Ilmarė walked over to one bookshelf.  There were no titles on the spine.  She took the book off the shelf and opened it.

“Interesting,” she said.

Quintus turned to look at her.  “What?”

“This book.  It’s writing itself, even as we speak.”

Quintus looked down at her hands.  “Careful.”

“According to this book,” said Ilmarė, “the giant outside is the Honor of Cadic, the Fallen Valinor of Urumeh.  Though no longer able to ascend to the Heavens, the Honor of Cadic continues to fight for the preservation of Illiir’s world.  He was told to come here to battle the war against the Darkness.”

“The Darkness?” asked Quintus, looking around.

“Hmm, oh yes, the book has an answer for that too,” said Ilmarė.  “The Darkness is made up of the force of Oblivion itself.  The tide of emptiness that seeks to revert all back to the nothingness that was before Illiir’s Light shone for the first time.  The ones on the field of battle are formed from the very essence of Entropy.  Their touch disrupts bodies and destroys souls.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “Does it know anything about those cat people?”

“They are called Fihali, the native race of this place.  When Urumeh first arrived, they were frightened, but the Fallen Valinor has shown them compassion and has even brought them…” Ilmarė looked up, her lip curled in disgust, “religion.  Just what this world needs, another missionary.”

“Ask it about the chalice,” said Quintus.

“Ah yes.  Here it is: the chalice was originally the property of another Valinor and was somehow taken from him by the Gods and then gifted to Urumeh.  On a cloudless evening, at precisely midnight, the chalice can capture the essence of the night and transform it into an inky liquid.  Once this draught is taken, it can either allow you to remember something that was forgotten or wash away a memory best gone.”

“But it doesn’t say where the chalice is?” asked Quintus.  

Ilmarė looked up.  “It doesn’t have to.  It’s right behind you.”

At the southern wall was a pedestal recessed into an alcove.  Upon it, illuminated by a single beam of light, was an ornate golden chalice affixed with four large, dark red gemstones.

Ilmarė closed the book and walked back to the doorway.  “I’ll wait here and keep a look out,” she said.

“This seems a little too easy,” Quintus said to Ilmarė.  “So first we’re going to…Vlad?”

Vlad walked over to the chalice with an open backpack.  With a scoop of his sword, the chalice plopped into the backpack.

“Dammit Vlad!” shouted Quintus.

“What?” said Vlad, raising the backpack up in front of him.  “We got what we came—”

Just then, the door swung shut on Ilmarė with a loud slam.  Three distinctive clicks came from the upper, middle, and lower part of the door as locks were activated.

Quintus slammed into the door with his shield and bounced off it.  “Locked,” he said.  

There was a low growl from the shadows behind him.  Quintus spun and backed away from the door.  

Out of the shadows prowled a pitch-black mastiff with a mouth full of sharp teeth and burning red eyes.

“Steady,” said Quintus, lowering his spear.

The mastiff raised its great head and howled a long, loud bay that reverberated throughout the library.

Then all hell broke loose.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 4b: The Tower Landing*

Ilmarė struggled with the door handle for a few moments until she heard the baying.  A cold chill scraped across her spine.

“Shadow mastiff,” she said, struggling to contain the rising panic in the pit of her stomach.  “It’s on the other side of the door.  You’re safe,” she said over and over.

The helmet that Nevanos had worn to protect him from ilHuan mind tricks had saved her from the unreasoning fear of the mastiff’s howl.  But not everyone was so fortunate:  In the library, someone screamed at the top of his lungs, a cry of gut-wrenching terror. 

The shouts of guards echoed from the spiraling stairwell downstairs.  Ilmarė spun around in desperation, looking from exit to exit.

She spied a doorway and leapt towards it.  As Fihali guards climbed the steps onto the landing, Ilmarė opened the door and ducked inside, quietly closing it behind her.

The quarters were empty.  She took a sigh of relief.

There were no beds.  Instead, there were three indentations on the floor, with a heavy furred blanket within each one.  It was furnished only with three high stools, each with claw marks on the top.  Tapestries adorned the walls, all of a bipedal feline-like race hunting large bison-like creatures.  

Ilmarė opened the door a crack.  The cat-like guards were clustered around the library door, weapons drawn.

Ilmarė looked around the room for some means of escape.  She had no way to get back home.  If Quintus did not survive the shadow mastiff, he surely would not make it past the guards.  She had to do SOMETHING.

Her hand unconsciously fingered the amulet at her throat.

It pulsed with a life of its own.  She had forgotten about it, but the amulet had not forgotten about her.

Ilmarė clenched it tightly and willed it to life.  Instantly, she was suffused with a shivering rage.  It was all she could do to reach for her bow.  

She would make them pay.  They would all pay.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 4c: The Library*

“Vlad,” said Quintus, his eyes scanning the darkness, “listen to me.”

Vlad was curled up in a ball behind him, whimpering.

Somewhere in the pitch black beyond Quintus’ line of sight, the mastiff paced back and forth, growling softly.  The lights had dimmed, swirling into a misty gray nearest him and blackest night in the far corners of the library.  

“Vlad,” said Quintus, his tone steady, spear before him, “you’ve got to snap out of it.  I don’t know how long I can keep this thing at bay…”

White jaws appeared out of the darkness and snapped at the tip of the longspear.  Quintus positioned himself between two shelves so that the mastiff would have to pass him to get to Vlad.

“Vlad,” said Quintus more sternly, “GET. UP.”

There was a long, low growl.  Then suddenly, a shape blur into motion through the air.

Quintus leaned backwards and lifted his spear.  The mastiff’s low growl became a high-pitched yelp as the longspear pierced its abdomen.  The weight of its attack nearly wrenched the spear from Quintus’s hands.

It kept coming.

Quintus dropped his shield as the mastiff barked and snarled, slowly forcing its way up the spear.  He scrabbled backwards, struggling to reach for his gladius as the white jaws snapped ever closer.  He could smell rotting meat on the mastiff’s breath.

And then it was dead.  Its head landed on Quintus’ thigh, almost as if it was a lap dog nuzzling its master for affection.

The legionnaire scrabbled to his feet and yanked the speared out of the corpse.  “Vlad,” he said, “it’s dead.  Now get up.”

Vlad peeked out from between his fingers.  “It is?  Are you sure?”

“Illiir’s light man, yes it’s dead!” said Quintus.  He cleared a path free of books and bookshelves opposite the only way out.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“I…I don’t know what happened,” said Vlad.

Quintus raised his spear and then charged into the door, gouging a great furrow of wood out of one side.  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

Vlad rose to his feet.  He put one hand out to steady himself against a bookshelf.  He was drenched in sweat.  “I’ve never been afraid of dogs before.” 

“We are in a strange place,” said Quintus, slamming his spear into the door again.  “Who knows what effect it has on any of us.”

Vlad unsheathed his sword.  “It didn’t affect you.”

Quintus speared the door again.  “No, it did not.  But I tell you what: if you help me break this door down, I will never speak of it again.”

“You swear?”

“You have my word as a legionnaire,” said Quintus solemnly.

Vlad nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped over to the door.  “Let me try it.”

The warrior wrapped two hands around his longsword.  He took two practice swings with the blade.  Then, focusing all his fear and rage, he hit the top hinge of the door with all his might.

It fell down with a horrendous thud, spreading dust, books, and splinters everywhere.  

Vlad put one foot on the defeated door.  He turned to smile at Quintus.

Quintus was looking over Quintus’ shoulder.

Vlad turned to look past the doorway.  Five pairs of feline pupils glared back at him.

“Oh crap,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 4d: The Tower Landing*

“Down!” shouted Quintus.  

Vlad did as he was told as a vial of alchemist’s fire sailed over his head.  It exploded in a halo of flames in front of the door.

“Back inside!” 

Vlad spun back inside the door to grab his shield.  When he turned back, he was face to face with a Fihali who had leapt over the flames.

The smoke and gloom made it nearly impossible to see anything.  Vlad blocked the Fihali’s claw strikes with his shield and then cut downward, slashing open the cat-person’s jugular.  The humanoid fell without a sound.

Beyond the conflagration, Ilmarė stood rigidly with bow at the ready.  Arrow after arrowed sliced through the air as she sang. “_Nowr vee air-in._”

The books were burning.  Quintus dropped his spear and reached for his gladius as a Fihali slashed his arm.  He stumbled backwards into a bookcase.

“_Lahnk ee dahl-ahf,_” sang Ilmarė.  The ground lay bare.

A Fihali landed face first, an arrow still shivering from the back of its head.

“_Mahb lay ee nah-gore,_” sang Ilmarė.  The war was upon them.

Vlad stabbed upwards, gutting another Fihali.

“_Bahd gurth vee gah-lahd fear-ee-ell,_” sang Ilmarė.  Death moved in the fading light.

Another Fihali turned and launched itself at the source of the fusillade.  It fell to the ground a second later, pierced by multiple arrows.

“_Dore-thahkh vee mar hahn?_” sang Ilmarė.  Were they part of this world, she asked?

Vlad turned and with one mighty stroke slashed the spine of the Fihali on top of Quintus. 

“_Dahg-rah-thahkh go hine?_” sang Ilmarė.  Would they join the fight, she asked?

The Fihali fell in a crumpled heap.

Quintus stumbled out of the room, coughing in the smoke.  An arrow bounced off his shield.

“Ilmarė,” shouted Quintus.  “Is that you?”

The Elorii stepped out of the smoke, arrow knocked.  Something pulsed red at her throat.

“Ilmarė?”  Quintus lowered his spear, confused.  “Ilmarė?  What’s wrong?”

The Elorii bit her lip.  Her arms were shaking with emotion.

“Ilmarė, it’s me, Quintus,” he said.  “Remember me?  I gave you that helmet.”

Ilmarė blinked.  The red pulse stopped.  She lowered her bow.

“Quintus,” she said, her voice tinged with relief, “you’re alright.”

Vlad stepped out from behind Quintus.  “I’m fine too, thanks for asking. Can we go now?”

“Not yet,” said a mysterious figure, slumped against the side of the stairwell.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 5: An Ill Friend*

The man was a Sarishan, identical to the others they saw in the courtyard with the exception of sigils.  The sigils on his forearms had faded to just his wrists and the palms of his hands.  He had slumped to his knees.  Quintus had one hand on his back.

“Easy, old father,” he said.  “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same question,” he said weakly.  “Why have you traveled to this doomed sphere?  Are you from my beloved Empire?”

Quintus blinked.  “Yes, we are.  Are you from Coryan?”

The old man coughed.  “I was once Clodius val’Mehan, high priest of the Lord Sarish, proud citizen of the Empire and former prelate of the province of Canceri.”

“Was?” asked Vlad.

Clodius slid further, and Quintus gently rested his head on the ground.  “That’s right, dear child, I died in the year 368 I.C.”

Ilmarė crossed her arms.  “And I suppose you are a favored soul.”

“I was rewarded with the chance to further my Lord’s cause,” said Clodius.  “I was given this body and sent here to try and save this sphere from ultimate annihilation.”

“But you did not reach Illiir’s Grace,” said Quintus with a frown.

“No, I suppose I am not yet pure enough to bask in the glory of the Gods,” said Clodius.  “I was attended to by one of our Lord’s many Valinor.”

“You all look alike to me,” said Ilmarė, peering out a window.  

Clodius managed a weak smile.  “We were given perfect form as our original bodies belong to Neroth and His worms now.  This form is stronger than my body ever was in life.  It houses our spirit, so that we may do the tasks given to us.”  He was overcome by a fit of shivers.

“Quintus,” said Ilmarė.

“Easy, easy,” Quintus said to Clodius.  “Your task in this form is nearly at an end.  I am sure this time you will be embraced to Illiir’s bosom.”  

“The tide has broken.  The forces of Entropy are advancing.  You must flee while you can…” 

Quintus put one hand on Clodius’ forehead.  “May Illiir bless you and keep you.  Pass in peace.”

“Quintus,” said Ilmarė again.

There was a long, shuddering sigh, and then the body that was once the vessel for Clodius lay still.

“Quintus!”

“Yes,” he said, rising.  “What is it?”

Ilmarė was pointing out the window.  The roiling black cloud now moved with purpose, spiraling in a funnel towards the tower.  

“It’s time to go!”

“Agreed,” said Quintus.  He picked up his spear and shield.  “We have to get to the balcony.  Go!”

Ilmarė skidded onto the balcony, with Quintus and Vlad close behind.  Outside, they could hear the roars of the Entropy-beings as they floated closer.  

Quintus crushed the sandstone and sprinkled it in the air.  A magic circle appeared, rippling before them.

“Vlad, go!” shouted Quintus.

Vlad plunged through the portal.  The roaring became deafening as the black cloud spiraled closer and closer.

“Ilmarė, go!”

“You go first!” Ilmarė said.

Quintus blinked. 

“Fine,” she said, “we’ll both go.”  She grabbed hold of his arm and they both jumped through just as a swipe of a wicked claw sliced through the circle.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 6a: Home Sweet Home*

They instantly appeared back at Decimus’ basement level.  Vlad was handing Decimus the chalice as Ilmarė and Quintus appeared.

“My thanks, my friends,” said Decimus, tears welling up in his eyes.  “I knew that you would succeed.”  

Ilmarė and Quintus were still clinging to each other.  Quintus coughed and stepped away from the Elorii.

Decimus handed Vlad a chest.  “Please, take this chest.  It contains the money I promised.”

Vlad popped it open and peered at its contents.  He nodded towards Ilmarė.  “It’s all here, three thousand Imperials, just like he said.”

Decimus held the chalice up.  “With this, I can make sure my family and my descendants will live as free citizens of the Empire.”

“And how exactly will the chalice help you do that?” asked Quintus.

Decimus walked over to another summoning circle inscribed on the floor.  “I call upon you, Oh Fallen One, as my ancestors did bid you to come in ages past,” he chanted, “so do I now command you to appear before me!”

Ilmarė unsheathed her sword.  “What are you doing?”

The light in the chamber dimmed as the sigils on the summoning circle flared.  Unfolding itself from its cape like a moth from its cocoon, a slight man appeared in the exact center.  He wore a plumed hat that cast long shadows upon his handsome face.  The lip was curled into a sneer.

“Am I a common Larissan pleasure slave, expected to come when her besotted master beckons?” it said in a deep baritone.  “Know this, Sarishan.  You have called upon Losknek, Prince of the Nether Realm, Render of the Just and Unjust and Master of the thirty-nine Deceivers of the Soul.  Tell me why I should not break your puny circle and make you my plaything?”

Quintus and Vlad drew their swords.  “Decimus, what in the world…”

Decimus ignored them.  He stepped forward, unafraid.  “I summoned you in the name of Blessed Sarish, the Binder and Summoner, He who you betrayed and who banished you from the Heavens.  Though I have no doubt you have the power to break the circle, I enacted the ritual in accordance to the old ways and demand that you listen.  Powerful, you may be.  But you must still act in accordance to your Oath.  Bound, you are, to the Lord of Secrets, and commanded to give one’s life desire for the fulfillment of your own, Dread One.”

“He means to bargain,” said Ilmarė to Quintus.  “Decimus never wanted the chalice for himself.”

“I hold in my hand the Chalice of Midnight,” Decimus was saying, “taken from you during the God War and gifted to the Honor of Cadic, who, because of you, also fell from Grace.  I freely give this to you in fulfillment of the contract and in return I desire the Page.”

Rage flashed across Losknek’s beautiful face before it spoke again.  “As you have said, Decimus, I must fulfill my obligation as it was commanded by the Bright Prince of Enigmas.”

A yellowed velum sheet of parchment appeared in a gout of flame before the Infernal.  Losknek pulled a scroll case from the folds of its cloak and inserted the parchment into it.  Its sealed the case with a thumbprint and extended the case with one hand as it reached for the chalice with the other.

“The Bargain is sealed and done,” said Decimus, scroll case in hand.  “Let neither harbor malice nor claim it was unjust.  What is done is done.  May the Lord of Secrets curse any who would undo His will.  You may leave, mighty Prince.  My need has been fulfilled.”

With nary a second glance, Losknek vanished as suddenly as it appeared.  

Looking relieved, Decimus turned to Quintus.  “Thank you once again, Quintus.  With this page, I will be able to pay Dominarin and release my family.”

Quintus resheathed his gladius.  “What does the Senator want with a page?” asked Quintus.  

“I don’t know.  But I know Dominarin wants it very badly, enough to release me from service for it.  And so I have my freedom in hand.”  He gestured towards all of them.  “Please, make yourself at home.  My brother is preparing a simple repast above for you.  It’s the least I can do.”

And with that, he practically jumped up the steps out of the basement.

“I don’t trust him,” said Ilmarė.  “He deals with too many devils.”

“Agreed,” said Quintus.  “But come, let us—“

Just then, the summoning circle flashed to life.


----------



## talien

*Drinking Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight - Part 6b: Home Sweet Home*

Standing in the center of the summoning circle, draped in shadow, was Prince Losknek.

“I would ask to speak with you before you go,” it said.

Quintus picked up his spear.  “Back, devil!”

Vlad and Ilmarė’s swords were at the ready.  They had yet to sheathe them.

“I mean you no harm,” it said.  “I so swear by Sarish.”

Quintus did not lower his spear.  “Speak, demon.  But know this: I will not be swayed by honeyed words.”

Losknek’s eyes narrowed, but his lips curled into a smile.  “And you are wise not to trust me, or anyone else.  Your erstwhile compatriot, while possessing a noble goal, has unwittingly begun a chain reaction that could topple the order of things upon Arcanis and may well usher in the enslavement of Mankind.”

“Go on,” said Ilmarė, sheathing her sword.

“Due to my oath, I am powerless to interfere or take an active part in upsetting the plans of a madman.  But you are not.”

“A madman?” asked Quintus.

“I have looked into your heart,” said Losknek.  “You possess a nobility of purpose and spirit.”

Quintus’ heart skipped a beat.

“You are a pawn, Quintus,” said Losknek.  “You are all pawns.  I urge you to stop this conspiracy before you are eliminated from the board.”

“Why don’t you do something about it then?” asked Vlad.

“Due to my Oath, I cannot do more.  The path will be made clear if you go back to the nest of the child that set off this sequence of events.”

“Cassicus,” said Quintus, “in Coryan.”

Losknek nodded.  “I will be watching…and praying.”  Without another word, the Prince of the Nether Realm vanished.

After waiting a moment to be sure that the devil wasn’t returning, Quintus took a deep breath and ascended the steps.

“Well,” he said over his shoulder, “I’ll send word for the others.  Will you be joining me?”

The big man flashed him a smile.  “I was here at the beginning of this mess and I intend to see it through to the end.”

Quintus turned to face Ilmarė.  They locked gazes.

“Of course,” said Ilmarė.  “The enslavement of mankind has always intrigued me.”

Quintus sighed and resumed climbing the steps.


----------



## talien

*Hiatus...for now*

Well, that's all we've got for the moment.  Due to real life challenges, we haven't been able to play another session and won't be able to until schedules change.  There's the possibility of gaming again sometime soon, but it may not be the same session.

It could include zombies though.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Well, it was a lot of fun while it lasted. Thanks for posting these; they brought back a lot of memories. Later on in the story arc, I can see a few of the threads being twisted back into the skein in the more modern LA mods.


----------



## talien

There's still life in this thread yet.  My brother and his girlfriend joined us for a session and I took over DMing duties.  Quintus has a cameo, as does Kham (even though his player wasn't available, I'm sure he'll be...uh, thrilled).  I'll post the story update in a few days as I get to it.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Introduction*

This is the first soft point of Year 2 of the tournament module, "The Children of the Leviathan," written by Scott Charlton and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Our cast of characters includes:

·	Ilmarė Galen (elf Brd3), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Vlad Martell (human Ftr3), played by Matt Hammer.
·	Calactyte (ss’ressen Bar1), played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
·	Bijoux (fihali 2/Drd1), played by Melissa Gendron

I was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net 

This was a new session for my brother (Joe) and his girlfriend (Melissa).  She’s never played Dungeons & Dragons before and I wanted it to be a fun session.  Ironically, she ported over a character she played on EverQuest who was a catfolk druid.  Since the party had just recently visited a world of cat type people (called fihali), it only made sense.  Incidentally, being a fihali means starting out at with 2 humanoid levels, an important edge.  

I haven’t been in the DM seat recently so this was my chance to dive into it.  And dive into it I did, with all the sweaty madness of a guy who has a 9 to 5 corporate job and doesn’t get to express himself often enough.  I knew this was an adventure on the high seas, so I went out to the local party store and bought pirate props, including a pirate mask, a treasure chest, edible gold coins (a treat for the players afterwards) and used the Weapons and Warriors Pirate Battle Game set as a prop. I'll include pictures too.

I was THIS CLOSE >< to buying an inflatable parrot.  Don’t push me, I’ll do it!

Ahem.  Anyway, this was probably the most insane, over the top, Indiana Jones style game we’ve played in awhile.  The writing was a bit too florid for my tastes, but the action was spot on and more than once the players thought their characters were in mortal danger.  Calactyte had a tougher time because he’s the lowest level, but Bijoux did fantastic—her gliding ability and blood drain saved the day multiple times, including the end.  All that, and this was the first time her player ever played D&D.

The adventure was tweaked in several ways.  Due to the scaling of the models, the cannon that the PCs are supposed to retrieve ended up being massive; so massive that it would be unrealistic to try to drag it with them.  I replaced an Altherian NPC named Khalil with Kham.  And I replaced several of the sailors with Baldric, Crazy Bob and Edward, because the trio is collectively far more entertaining.

It’s the most fun I’ve had being a DM in years. 

SPOILER ALERT: This adventure is not yet retired, so if you plan to play it you may want to look elsewhere.


----------



## talien

Decimus’ summoning chamber fell silent even as Quintus and his companions clambered up the steps. Their voices faded in the distance. Neither demon nor Sarishan priest nor befuddled adventurer was evident.

The symbols adorning the wall began to glow in a hot purplish hue.  The stones rippled, like a pool disturbed by a pebble. 

A cat-like humanoid burst through it and rolled to her feet. A thin membrane of flesh ran from her wrists to her waist. She whirled to face her pursuers, quarterstaff at the ready. The glow faded away completely, leaving the wall barren once more. No one followed.

Bijoux’s ears twitched as she her sensitive ears discerned the sounds of the humanoids who had visited her home world.  

Bijoux sniffed the ground.  The scent was still fresh.  There were several: an Elorii and three humans. One was still in the house, upstairs.  The others were further away.

And there was something else.  Something unnatural.  Something infernal.  

She sniffed at the summoning circle on the floor.  Bijoux wasn’t sure how she had made it through the portal, but she suspected it had to do with the taint of infernal that lingered in the air.  She could taste it.  And it did not taste good.

Bijoux didn’t know where she was, but she was sure they were the intruders her mentor Clodius had spoken to.  He had exhorted her to escape however she could, but the magic Clodius taught her was simply not powerful enough.  There wasn’t enough time for Bijoux to learn all of Clodius’ arcane knowledge to save her world.  There was never enough time, it seemed.

But perhaps this world, the world of her mentor, would be different.  

“Onara,” she said to herself.  “Nice to meet you.”

Bijoux swallowed hard and tried to put aside the thought that her world might be no more, that she may well be the last member of her race.  

With a silent hop, the fihali glided to the top of the steps and out the door into the night air.  Wherever the intruders were who had been so kind to Clodius, she knew her fate lay intertwined with theirs.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 1a: Enter the Heroes*

Quintus’ directions led to a narrow unlit back street tucked between several shops to a small villa with a high, ivy-covered brick wall. The wall was set with an open iron-wrought gate. Light from a lantern in the inner courtyard poured through to illuminate the small street. 

Vlad passed through the lighted gateway into the illumination of the lone lantern, hanging above a table cloistered at the far end of the courtyard.  Three men were seated at the table.  Their stoic faces turned as Vlad approach.

He recognized one of the men as Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, a signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.  The other two were Milandisians of late middle age. Both of the Milandisians had well groomed hair and steely gray eyes, a sure sign that they were Val.

Quintus stood to greet Vlad.  “I’m glad you two could make it,” he said with a terse smile.  

“Two?” said Vlad.

Ilmarė stepped out of the darkness.

“Oh,” said Vlad.  The Elorii’s stealthy entrances and exits took some getting used to.

“I am here at the behest of Sir Dymitr Ludwik val’Holryn,” he nodded to the officious looking Val on his left.   “And this is Captain Bezyli val’Osson of Naernaath.”  Both men bowed their heads in greeting.

Quintus sat down and it was Dymitr’s turn to rise.  “You’ll forgive me if I come right to the point. I’ve put out feelers for mercenaries, but Aurelius has convinced me that people of your particular skills might be better suited for the task at hand. Please,” he waved at the bench before him, “make yourselves comfortable.”

Quintus had used his first name with Dymitr, which explained just how familiar the man was with the legionnaire. Which was to say, not very much at all.

They sat as Dymitr continued.  “Some days ago, a certain Mhyrcian ship laden with a secret cargo was bound for Naeraanth, but did not dock as expected, nor has it been seen since.  This vessel was commissioned by the Milandisian government to deliver its cargo and a specialist passenger relevant to the load.  The craft’s disappearance has caused quite a stir and it is believed that the vessel was attacked by pirates, her cargo and crew seized…or worse.”

“Ambassadors argue and scheme even now in this city, but the relevance of the ship’s whereabouts and the return of her freight are paramount.  I for one do not intend to sit idly by and let my nation’s property and valuable secrets fall into the hands of thieving mongrels while politicians debate to no avail.”

“Let me guess,” said Ilmarė.  “You want us to retrieve the cargo with Captain Bezyli here.”

“Yes,” said Dymitr.  He put one hand on the shoulder of Captain Bezyli.  “This task is dangerous.  You would be putting yourselves at the mercy of hostile natives and environs, but I assure you, our intelligence is credible.  I have never seen a more capable captain as Bezyli.”

Vlad leaned forward.  “We’d be happy to—“

“No,” said Ilmarė, crossing her arms.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“You heard me.  I said no.  The crew shouldn’t have been carrying that precious cargo in the first place.  Now you want us to clean up your stupid human mess? We’re on a much more important mission anyway.”

Dymitr sputtered.  “I ask for professionals and this is what you bring me?” he snapped at Quintus.  “An elf and a Nierite?”

Vlad stood up.  “Excuse me?  I’m no Nierite.”

“How do you explain the armor?” said Bezyli. Vlad was wearing the plate armor of a Nierite, a “gift” he had taken from the corpse of one of his opponents.  It was unmistakable, even when he painted it black.

Quintus stood up.  “Gentlemen, if I can speak to my comrades alone for a moment.”

Bezyli and Dymitr exchanged glances.  They wordlessly rose and stepped away from the table.

Quintus leaned forward.  “There’s something you should know.  The reason I asked you both here is because we know that specialist passenger. It’s Kham.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Of course it is.”

“So that means it’s blackpowder that was on the ship,” said Vlad.  

Quintus nodded.  “I’m still trying to find Cassicus.  Since the attack the Senator has kept him well hidden.  In fact, I suspect my legionnaire duties are an attempt to throw me off the trail.  It’s going to take time.  Until then, we can afford to look for Kham.  Besides, he’s our friend.”

Vlad leaned forward.  “I’m in. I owe Kham my life.”

Ilmarė sighed.  “Fine.  Someone has to save that fool’s neck, if he’s not dead already.”

“Just one thing,” said Vlad.  “I need to change out of this armor.  I’ll sink like a stone on the open sea.”

“Agreed,” said Quintus.  “I’ll arrange it.  You are to leave with Captain Bezyli immediately.”  He shook hands with Vlad.  “He’ll explain more about your route once you board.  I wish I could go with you.”

Vlad patted Quintus on the shoulder.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” 

Ilmarė and Quintus exchanged hushed words as Vlad walked over to the other two men.  “We’re in,” he said.  

“Excellent,” said Captain Bezyli in clipped tones.  His accent was distinctly aristocratic. “We’ll depart shortly.”  

Vlad followed the Captain out to the gate.  Ilmarė joined him while Quintus and Dymitr returned to the table to continue their discussion.  She looked concerned.

“If the three of you will follow me,” said Bezyli. He stood stiffly, with one arm behind his back.

“Three of us?” asked Ilmarė.

“Yes,” said the Captain, arching an eyebrow.  “She’s not with you?”

Ilmarė whirled and drew her sword.  “Fihali!” she hissed.  

Vlad drew his own blade.  “One of them must have followed us through the portal!”

Bijoux kept her clawed hands, palms facing them, as she stepped out of the darkness.  “Please, I mean no harm,” she said with a slight accent that rolled all of her “r”s.  “I was Clodius’ apprentice.  I escaped through a gate to this world so that I might save it.”

Ilmarė smirked.  “And all this time we’ve been trying to destroy it,” she said, sheathing her weapon.  “I’m Ilmarė and this is Vlad.  Welcome aboard.”

Captain Bezyli arched both eyebrows.  “So if she’s a new addition to your crew and Aurelius isn’t going with you…who was the third member of your party?”


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 1b: Enter the Heroes*

Calactyte found himself in the booming Coryani port of Sulpecci in the province of Cafela, brought by far-ranging rumors of ancient Myrantian ruins laden with splendorous wealth and a sinister sea cult said to scoff boldly at the mighty gunships of Altheria. Cal strode confidently through the Land Gate, assured that adventure, fortune and glory would walk up and prostrate themselves before him. With a city such as Coryani, how could it not?

At least, that’s what he told himself a week ago.

Despite the larger than life claims of prosperity for eager fortune hunters, Sulpecci had failed to deliver. Not that there was a lack of employment for adventuring daredevils…far from it. Many of the tales Cal had heard were well founded. Nevertheless, not everyone was interested in hiring a six foot, ten inch, 300-pound lizard man.  He was intimidating even for a Black Talon Ss’ressen and the rising hunger in the pit of his stomach only further detracted from his appearance.

Calactyte had an elongated face akin to that of a lizard, with an enlarged jaw and flaring nostrils.  He had no external ears, only a small round hole above and behind his great, cold eyes.  He sported a head crest that fanned out along where his ears would be, but it was usually flattened against his skull.

Just as Cal was about to abandon his quest for fame and fortune to head for better parts, a secret messenger contacted him. The man had the scent of gold about him.  He spoke of a job that required discretion, a job that would pay handsomely: 20 Imperials just for showing up!

Calactyte expressed his interest.  Or perhaps he expressed slathering rage. He had difficulty interacting with humans. The messenger took off before he could explain himself.

So it was with glee that the Ss’ressen greeted the note slid under the hovel he called a room.  He unfolded it and stared at the lines on the paper.  Then he tucked it into the belt that held up his loincloth.

Hours later, he bumped into an officious looking legionnaire. 

“You’re late,” the man said, craning his neck to look up at Cal’s snout.  “I didn’t think any other mercenaries were taking this job.  Here.  Take this to Vlad Martell on the Shrike.”  The legionnaire handed him a chainmail shirt.

Cal took the shirt in one claw.  “Do I get paid now?”

The legionnaire peered sideways at him.  “You get paid 200 Imperials on completion of the mission. Didn’t you read the note?”

“You mean this?”  One huge claw pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. 

“Yes.  That.”

“I can’t read,” Cal said simply. 

The legionnaire blinked.  “Oh.  Well, I’d draw you a map, but you probably can’t read that either.”

Cal shook his head.

“So…let’s make this simple.  Can you smell the ocean?”

Cal nodded.

“Good.  Run that way.  Look for an Elorii and a cat-person. They’ll be on a ship called the Shrike.  The mast has one white arm holding a saber on a red background.”

“Food there?” Cal asked.

The legionnaire took a step back. “I’m sure there is, but…”

The Ss’ressen took off at a run, his long strides easily clearing carts, startled commoners, and a fruit stand.

“I said they HAVE food,” Quintus shouted after him, “they’re not THE food!”


----------



## talien

*The Shrike*

Attached is a miniature of the Shrike.  It's a model from the Weapons & Warriors: Pirate Battle playset.  

UPDATE: Here's the version with my shiny blue print out ocean terrain.  And less blur.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 2: The Shrike*

Though she flew Milandir’s colors, it was clear that the Shrike was rigged as a pirate ship, built and specialized for speed and clandestine missions.  The crew was a motley lot, ranging from disgraced soldiers to exiled noblemen, petty criminals to pardoned pirates.

“If one of those slobs steps within two feet of me I’ll gut him like the pig he is,” said Ilmarė.  The leering and the heckling were starting to get to her.

Bijoux backed up against her as some of the sailors circled around them.  “I’m beginning to agree with you,” she said.

“Stand down gentleMENNNNN!” shouted Captain Bezyli in his usual high-pitched reprimand.  “Ladies, please join your comrades in my office.”

The sailors grudgingly parted to let the only females on the ship pass.  

Bezyli closed the door behind them. Vlad and Cal were already inside.  Cal was hunched over such that he had difficulty turning his head to listen to the Captain.

“Yes, well then.  The ship we’re searching for is called the Dauntless.  It was a sloop carrying Milandir’s annual shipment of blastpowder, along with a secret new weapon purchased by none other than King Osric IV.  The pirates we seek dwell on the southern coast of Altheria, somewhere within the Ophidian Isle.  We’ll be docking at Fort M’kimbe, a lighthouse keep manned by the Altherian Patrol.”

“So what do you think happened to this—“

Bezyli cut Vlad off.  “Talk to my first mate,” he said curtly.  “I’ve got better things to do than chat.”  He opened the door again and pointed out.

“But—“ said Bijoux.

“His name is Baldric,” said Bezyli.  “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to chat with you all day.”

They all stepped out of the Captain’s quarters and out onto the deck, only to greet a semicircle of irate sailors.  The door slammed behind them. 

A grizzled old sailor in a black hat and an eye patch pointed at Ilmarė.  “Arrr, lasses on a ship be bad luck.”

“That’s good,” said Ilmarė, glaring back at him, “because I’m not a woman.  I am Elorii.”

“An’ ye look like a cat,” the old sailor said to Bijoux.  “Th' ship we`re lookin' fer that sailed' down? They had a cat too.”

Bijoux gulped.  “I am Fihali,” she said meekly.

“Arrr, ye`re mighty strange lookin' t' me. I dasn't like th' looks o' ye.”

A low, deep growl rumbled from Cal’s throat.  Some of the crew took a step back.

Vlad kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.  “Look, we didn’t come here to start any trouble.”

“Aye,” said the grizzled old sea dog, “but trouble be all we’ve got these days.” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest.  “I be First Mate Baldric. An' I don’t care wi' th' captain thinks, I own this ship an' th' crew listens t' me. If ye want t' be on here, ye`re goin' t' be havin' t' pass th' test.”

Grumbles of “pass the test” and “they won’t do it” came from the assembled crew.

“What kind of test?” asked Vlad.

Baldric grinned a mouthful of rotten teeth.  “Arr, that’s th’ rub.  Ye need…” he leered closer to Ilmarė, “t’ sin’ a song.”

Ilmarė blinked.  “What did he just say?”

“I think,” said Bijoux, “he wants us to sing a song?”

“Sing the song!” shouted the pirates over and over.  “Sing the song!”

“Each o’ ye has a certain part t’play.  An’ ye better sin’ it!”

Crazy Bob handed out slates with each part of the song.  Cal turned his around several times.  

“What’s this say?” he whispered to Bijoux.

The Fihali looked at Cal’s slate.  “That’s the letter A, I believe.”

Ilmarė looked up from her slate. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“’Tis no joke, lass,” said Baldric.  “Now sin’ when I point at ye. Are ye ready?”

They all looked at him mutely.  One of the pirates shoved Vlad on the shoulder.  He took a deep breath.

“Aye, aye, Baldric.”

Baldric put one hand to his ear and leaned forward. “I can’t hearrrrrrr yoooooooou!”

They all shouted at the top of their lungs, “AYE, AYE BALDRIC!”

“Ooooooooooooh who lives in th’ grotto down under th’ sea?”

Baldric pointed at Ilmarė.  “Oh, for the love of Osalian! Lev—“

He pointed at Cal. “Uh…”

He pointed at Vlad.  “Vi?”

He pointed at Bijoux. “Than.”

The crew started muttering. 

“Nay, nay, nay ye`re screwin' 't up!” Baldric shouted.  “Ye!” he pointed at Vlad.  “Ye stand next t' th' lass. An' ye, ye scaly scallywag, ye switch places wi' th' lad!”

Vlad and Cal obliged.

“Now once more wi’ feeling!”  The crew cheered and joined in.

“Who lives in th’ grotto down under th’ sea?
LE-VI-A-THAN!
An aspect o' Yarris an' evil be he!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
If nautical nightmares be somethin’ ye fear,
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Then run fer yer lives and dump all yer gear!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Ready?
Leviathan, Leviathan, Leviathan, le-VI-A-THANNNNNNN!”

The crew went wild, hooting and clapping them on the back.

Baldric cackled. “Ye`re nay such a bad sort after all! Let me introduce ye t' me crew.” He nodded over his right shoulder to a dour looking sailor with a big nose.  “That thar’s Edward.” Baldric nodded to his left at a goggled-eyed sailor with buckteeth.  “An' he’s Crazy Bob. We run th' Shrike an' keep th' lass' in tip-top shape. If ye need anythin', we’ll be happy t' be at yer service.”  He bowed low.

“Why do you call him Crazy Bob?” asked Vlad.

Baldric leaned closer and whispered behind the back of one hand.  “We don’t talk much about 't after his accident, ye know.”

Crazy Bob giggled to himself.  “We’re all doomed!” He shouted at the top of his lungs with an insane grin plastered across his face.  “The Children of Leviathan are cannibals!  They have a flying serpent queen who can call up giant sea devils to swallow ships whole!”

“That’s very nice Bob,” said Baldric, “now back t’ ye duties.”

Crazy Bob nodded too many times and wandered off.

Vlad watched Crazy Bob go.  The crew went back to their regular chores, the amusement over for a moment.  “So, what have you heard about this mission?” asked Vlad.

“The ship we’re looking for was lost in the Ophidian Isles,” said Edward in monotone voice. “The Altherians can’t find who did it, even with their gunships.”

Baldric nodded.  “Aye, ‘tis true. ‘Tis why they put us aboard. All desperate men. A ship o' fools, ya be seein', ‘cause nay sane man would risk comin' aboard such a voyage. ‘Tis suicide. But then, most o' us would be hangin’ anyway. Th' Shrike’s a regular ghost ship, 'tis.”

“Osalian help us,” said Ilmarė, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.  “This crew is the best Coryani can offer? It doesn’t even have Kham on it.”

“Who is this Kham?” asked Bijoux.

“Don’t worry,” said Vlad, staring out at the water.  “You’ll know him when you see him.”


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 3a: Fort M’kimbe’*

The Shrike rounded a dark rocky peninsula covered in wind-twisted trees.

“Fort M’kimbe hooooo!” shouted Captain Bezyli. 

As soon as the captain confirmed the sighting, the crew visibly relaxed.  As the Shrike sailed closer to land, they could make out a small stout keep with a tall lighthouse perched atop a cliff, all of it fashioned of huge, dark stone blocks.  The fort flew Altherian colors and was lined with several squat cannons mounted on towerlets facing the sea.

Captain Bezyli gave the order to weigh anchor and lower a boat to go ashore.  As the men jumped to it, Bezyli turned to his first mate.

“Mister Baldric, I will go ashore with Bob and Edward to secure provisions.  You have the ship.”

“Aye, Captain,” said Baldric with a look of distaste he reserved only for the captain.

A rope ladder was rolled down and secured.  The captain and his two crewmen descended to the little boat.  Ilmarė, Bijoux and Vlad clambered down into it.  

Edward eyed Cal. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Calactyte, claws extended, put one large clawed foot onto the rope.  It creaked under the weight.  

“So long as he doesn’t rock the boat….” said Bezyli.

Despite their concerns, Cal managed to not capsize the boat.  He looked around at them all.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Ilmarė.  “Just don’t move too much.”

The boat pulled ashore at a long barnacle-encrusted stone dock that was streaked with rust.  In the cliff wall was a carven doorway fitted with an oxidizing but sound portcullis.  Beyond the doorway was a dark stairwell that led sharply upward.  

Light flooded the stairwell as the sound of a stout trapdoor creaked open from above.  The jingle of a key ring was followed by the appearance of a short, barrel-chested Altherian.  

“Greetings,” he said with a slight Altherian accent.  “I am Sergeant Chaga.” The portcullis winched up in front of him as he spoke.  “I’m afraid the Captain of the Guard is away on official business.”

He led them back to the trapdoor, guiding them through a guardhouse to an outside courtyard. 

“As you know, the Dauntless has been missing for nearly a month,” said Chaga.  “I’m convinced that it was the Cult of the Leviathan that attacked it.”

“Did they know what was on board the ship?” asked Vlad.  His eyes were on the oddly shaped interior of the keep and the towering lighthouse that jutted out of it.

“Normally I would say it was a random attack,” said Chaga.  “But in this case they had help.  One of our men doused the light from the lighthouse.”

There were many soldiers of the Patrol, men of every nation, whispering amongst themselves and eyeing them with curious glances.

Bijoux’s ears flattened against her head.  “Why are they all staring?” she whispered aloud.

“Don’t mind them,” said Chaga.  “Solitary station turns to comfortable solace and camaraderie here.  The men aren’t much used to…” he looked Cal up and down, “visitors inside the walls.”

“I should like to have a few words with the traitor,” said Ilmarė.

“Wouldn’t we all,” said Chaga.  “His name was Caskill.”  He paused, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.  “I’m sorry, you must understand that Caskill was one of us.  He was a brother-in-arms, and although the man was strange looking, it was overlooked.”

Vlad was careful not to look at his three companions.  “I know what you mean,” he said with a straight face.

“Caskill locked himself in this room.”  He stopped at a stout wooden door with an inset iron lock.  The door was marked with a small scarab beetle, the sacred symbol of Neroth.  “He swallowed poisoned before he could be arrested and questioned.”

He unlocked the door, revealing a slim stair leading up to a square room, its confines dimly lit through the cracks of a high shuttered window.  The room had a few shelves with chirurgeon’s tools, herbs and chemicals. The light fell on a table draped in a white cloth. Something large was beneath it.

After staring into the gloomy doorway for an uncomfortable moment, Chaga pointed and said, “He’s there.”  

He turned on his heel and joined Captain Bezyli, Bob, and Edward at the bottom of the steps. 

“So…” said Bijoux.  “That’s him?”

Cal leaned down and sniffed the sheet.  

“Well, I’m not touching that sheet,” Ilmarė said, crossing her arms.

Before anyone could say anything else, Cal yanked the sheet off of the corpse.  

Caskill was monstrously large.  At nearly seven feet tall and in excess of 300 pounds, his feet hung over the table.  He was bald and covered with scars, his skin unnaturally pale and varicose.  His extremities and mouth were tinged blue-green from the poison.  Caskill’s mouth was agape and his teeth filed down to points.  His wide blue eyes stared blankly upwards in a hideous expression.

“I liked him better with the sheet on,” said Bijoux.

“Look at his tattoo,” said Ilmarė.  She pointed at Caskill’s chest.  It was a large tattoo of a faceless demonic-looking man with webbed hands.  Instead of legs, tentacles splayed out across Caskill’s broad chest.  

Ilmarė turned to the others.  “That’s the human god Yarris.  They’ve twisted it into something else—“

Then Caskill bit her on the wrist.

The Elorii’s statement turned into a shriek as Caskill hopped up and grabbed her with one meaty paw.  He hurled Ilmarė around like a rag doll, standing naked on the table.  

Everything happened at once.  Vlad drew his sword.  Cal reached for his axe, but realized he no matter where he swung it; he would hit someone other than Caskill.  Bijoux crouched on all fours.

“Somebody DO something!” shouted Ilmarė.  

Caskill responded by worrying her arm like a dog.  The Elorii shrieked again at the top of her lungs as she pulled a dagger from her belt. 

“I can’t get a clear shot at him!” shouted Vlad, struggling to hack at a part of Caskill that wasn’t blocked by flailing Elorii.

“Me neither,” said Cal, gripping his axe tightly.

Bijoux didn’t wait for an opening.  She leapt up on Caskill’s back, clawing at his face. 

Ilmarė stabbed Caskill repeatedly in the chest and he finally let go, dumping her to the ground.  

Caskill whirled, bloody foam flying from his mouth.  He clawed at Bijoux over his shoulders, but his sheer bulk put him at a disadvantage.  Blood dripped into his eyes from the deep gouges across his face.

With a roar, he leaped from the table through the shuttered window.  As the wood splintered, there was a paralyzing moment when Bijoux, perched on Caskill’s shoulders, was framed in the window with a shocked expression. Then they both dropped from sight.

“Gods!” shouted Vlad.

Caskill’s hysterical laughter echoed in the room as he fell.  It was punctuated by a horrible crunch.  Then they heard no more.

Vlad slowly approached the window’s ledge, dreading what he would see when he looked down.  

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Bijoux landed lightly on the windowsill, the skin flaps between her arms and hips extended.

Ilmarė tore a strip off of Caskill’s shroud and wrapped it around her arm.  “Fihali can fly,” said Ilmarė, acting as if a supposedly dead man hadn’t just bitten her. 

Bijoux smiled, showing her fangs as she hopped out of the window.  “Can’t you?” she asked innocently.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 3b: Fort M’kimbe*

“You mean to tell me none of you noticed that Caskill had taken Blue Sleep?”

Ilmarė’s lip curled into a snarl as she thrust a small vial of blue liquid in front of the Sergeant’s nose.  His eyes crossed to focus on it.

“No, we thought—“

“That he was dead?  I find it very convenient that you left us in there with him to examine the body.  Where is your surgeon?”

“Our surgeon doubles as a—“

“Have you ever tasted Blue Sleep before, Sergeant?”

The Sergeant shook his head.

“Then perhaps you’d like to taste some now,” she said with menace.

The Sergeant’s gulp was audible.  “I don’t see what the problem is.  Caskill’s dead—“

“You see this?” Ilmarė growled, pointing at the wide bite marks on her wrist. “NOT DEAD.”

She began to pace. “When you drink Blue Sleep, it lowers your breathing and heart rate.  The subject falls into a catatonic slumber so deep that he appears dead. And don’t even get me started on the dreams.  If you had anyone even slightly competent at this fort, maybe someone would have noticed that Caskill wasn’t dead.  Or that he held a vial of this poison in one of his hands. Or that he was a six-foot tall freak with fangs who has no business being around civilized people.”

“Hey!” said Calactyte from behind.  Vlad put one hand out to silence him.

Captain Bezyli entered the room.  “That’s not all.  One of the men said he saw an unearthly maiden with snakes for hair flying around in the fog on the eve that the Dauntless set to sea.”

Chaga looked relieved that Bezyli had arrived.  “We’ve seen her around here before.”

“Once again,” said Ilmarė, shoving her blood-soaked wrist in Chaga’s face. “NOT DEAD.” 

“We’re leaving,” said Bezyli. “Now.”  

Ilmarė spun on her heel and walked away.  The others followed her.

“I’m going to have to ask you to keep this information to yourselves,” said Captain Bezyli as he stepped onto the boat that would take them to the Shrike.  Edward and Crazy Bob were already at the oars and had secured provisions for the journey.  “The crew is prone to superstition.  I don’t need further problems on deck.”  

Ilmarė ignored him. 

“How do you know so much about Blue Sleep?” asked Vlad.

“Because,” said Ilmarė, staring into the inky depths of the ocean, “I’ve used it before.”


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 4a: Natives Are Restless*

The Shrike raised anchor and was underway shortly.  It didn’t take long for rumblings of insubordination to makes its way through the crew.

Baldric approached Ilmarė.  “We’ve been wonderin’ what happened to yer arm, lass?” asked Baldric. She was obviously cradling one arm, covered in a bloodied bandage.

“A large man bit Ilmarė, then he jumped out the window,” said Cal matter-of-factly. “He’s dead now.”

Baldric peered at the Elorii’s arm.  “Is this true?”

Ilmarė stared him straight in his lone good eye.  “I walked into a door.”

Baldric sneered but said nothing else.  

They sailed on through the evening as darkness and high tide set in, beckoning a looming mist upon the waves.  The Shrike passed a few shallow spots in the water and a small verdant islet or two.  Captain Bezyli ordered the men to take soundings and furl sail to slow the ship.

The crew became quiet, their eyes riveted to the sea, searching for jagged reef or monsters, real and imagined.  Only the lapping waves and the creak of deck and ropes gave any sound.  

As darkness descended, the mist became a chilling blanket of fog.  The cliffs off the starboard side became visible.  Minutes seemed to stretch into hours…when Cal blinked and cocked his head.

“What’s that?” the big lizard asked.

“What’s what?” responded Bijoux.

“The thumping,” Cal said, sniffing the air.  “Something’s wrong.”

Then they all heard it.  What sounded at first like a hollow log trapped in the surf became a steady, droning beat.  Drums.  Dozens of them.  

The crew gripped their weapons tighter and scanned the sea.  The only thing anyone could make out in the fog were a few mangrove trees, betraying the edge of nearby islands. 

“I’m going to take the high ground for a better look,” Bijoux said to Vlad.  He nodded, drawing his sword.

Bijoux bounded from mast to mast until she reached the crow’s nest.  The fog was complete; beneath her was nothing but mist. She may as well have been atop a mountain crested by clouds.

Flares of light sailed through the darkness.  It took Bijoux a moment to recognize them as flaming spears.

The sounds of battle erupted below her.  She strained to make out any one particular form, but all the fighting did was to churn the fog around even more.

Suddenly, a lithe, jet-skinned woman erupted from the swirling fog over the aft deck in mid-air.  Her graceful form was wreathed in the silver-green moonlight, obscuring her face in shadow.  In place of hair, serpents writhed and hissed upon her head.  

Bijoux tensed.  She couldn’t close the distance and reliably land anywhere. If she glided on the currents, they could end up tossing her into the ocean, lost amidst the fog. 

A piercing green light flared from the flying woman’s eyes.  Someone cried out and there was the sound of cracking rock.

Bijoux concentrated.  A low purr rumbled deep in her chest as she sent out a plea to the sea creatures of Onara.  She wasn’t sure what she would respond, but she hoped it was big and mean.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 4b: Natives Are Restless*

The ship teetered from the rocking waves and the weight of many fighting forms upon her deck, causing the statue of Captain Bezyli to slip over the rail.  With a splash, he disappeared forever into the briny depths.  The woman flew backwards into the obscuring mist.  

“Drive them back!” shouted Baldric, skewering one of the saw-toothed cannibals and kicking him off his sword.  

Calactyte swung at a cannibal and missed, connecting with the ropes hung along the mast instead.  Released from its moorings, a pole snapped out of the fog and whipped three of the cannibals back into the ocean.

Vlad blocked the spiked club of one of the cultists with his shield and stabbed his assailant in the throat. Another cannibal snuck up behind Vlad but was smothered by a falling sail, released from the pole Cal had struck.  Vlad looked over his shoulder in surprise.  “Wow.  Nice shot.”

Cal shrugged back at Vlad. 

Ilmarė had a bucket in her hands.  “Put out the fires!” 

The drums started again and suddenly the cultists were diving off the ship.  Baldric took the helm, steering the Shrike through the channel.

Flames sprouted up higher in places all across the ship.  

Someone, maybe Crazy Bob, shouted, “We’re doomed!  Swim for it!”  

Then they saw it.  It dove in and out of the waves, its slick form a welcome sight to sailors everywhere.

“A good omen!” shouted one of the men.  

“That’s right ya scurvy dogs!” shouted Baldric.  “Now grab those buckets!  Put yer backs into it!”

The men resumed putting out the fires with vigor.

Bijoux landed lightly on the deck.  “What is that?”

“That’s a dolphin,” said Ilmarė, amused.  “The humans apparently think it’s a good omen.”

The dolphin chattered and waved with one fin at Bijoux. 

“Did you have something to do with that?” the Elorii asked.

Bijoux nodded.  “I was hoping for something…bigger.”

The crew had put out the most dangerous fires.  The Shrike would survive another night.

“We pirates have a legend,” said Edward. “The god Yarris was kidnapped by pirates, who mistook him for a wealthy prince capable of bringing them a hearty ransom.  No sooner had the boat set sail with the captive Yarris onboard than the god caused seaweed to grow up along the sides of the boat, the leaves wrapping themselves around the mast and rigging, and the oars became eels.  The pirates jumped overboard in their terror, yet as they floated in the sea Yarris showed compassion for them.  As he uttered the words “I will make you happy!  In my heart, I honor you”, all the pirates were transformed into dolphins, never again to harm or do wrong, but instead to fulfill their destiny of helping those in need, and providing support and assistance when called upon.”

Baldric appraised Bijoux as if he had met her for the first time.  “Don’t underestimate tha power of great things in small packages,” he said.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 5: Mutiny*

“We’ve got to get back to Fort M’kimbe!” shouted Crazy Bob.  “When the fog clears we should get out of this forsaken place!”

“Yer talkin’ mutiny lad,” said Baldric.  “I’m the ranking officer on this ship!  That makes me yer new Captain.  And I say yer mutinyin’. And ye know the penalty for mutiny.”

Sailors reached for sabers and belaying pins.  Some lined up behind Crazy Bob.  Others stood behind their new captain.

“Stand down!” shouted Baldric. “Yer duty is tah Milandir and King Osric.  And don’t forget yer reward…”

The sailors shouts drowned out the rest of what he said.  

“I don’t have time for this.” Ilmarė stepped forward and drew her slim longsword.  “If you want to mutiny, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Her threat drew snickers from the mob.  

“And me,” said Vlad.  He drew his sword and stood next to her.

The mob stopped snickering.

“And me,” said Cal.  The big lizard didn’t even bother to pull out his axe.  He just flexed his claws.

The mob took a step back.

“Look!” shouted Bijoux, pointing off the starboard bow.

It was an Altherian man, snagged in a patch of vines on a nearby isle.  The man was unconscious, draped in a bleached leather overcoat.  His skin and lips were cracked and peeling.  He had been out in the sun for far too long.

“It’s Kham!” shouted Vlad.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 6: Tentacles*

“Took you guys long enough,” said Kham, his eyes still crusted shut.

“Easy Kham,” said Vlad.  “You’ve been through a lot.”

Kham barely moved his head.  It was a sign of disagreement.  “I know where…the cultists are. I escaped…the cargo…”

“If you were the specialist for the cargo,” said Ilmarė, “then what was the cargo?”

“Hi…elf,” said Kham.  “Good to see you…too.”

Ilmarė couldn’t help but smile.  “It’s a weapon, isn’t it?  Something the Altherians would be foolish enough to put you in charge of.”

“Cannon,” said Kham. “We’ve got to get it back…or blow it up.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “Well, now we know our mission.  As soon as you’re rested—“

“No,” said Kham, clutching Vlad’s wrist.  “Now.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Kham,” said Ilmarė.  “You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

One eye cracked open.  “You’re right.” Kham pointed at Calactyte, who stood outside of the Captain’s cabin, watching the exchange with curiosity. “But I can…hitch a ride.”

Everyone turned to look at Cal.  “What?”

Just then the ship listed to the port dramatically, as if the keel snagged on something.

“What th’ hell?” shouted Baldric. The crew shouted a litany of expletives in surprise.

Suddenly, the ship lurched forward violently, enough to knock people to the deck.  The ship sluiced forward for a bit then slowed, and lurched again.

The pattern continued unabated, as if the Shrike was being dragged forward by something very large beneath her.

Bijoux peered over the edge, watching the undulating dark mass that dragged the ship along.  “I didn’t summon that,” she said.

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea,” sang Calactyte behind them.

“Leviathan,” replied Vlad.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 7: The Island*

The Shrike was pulled through tropic blue-green stretches of water, past a series of overlapping islands lush with emerald jungle copses, pale beaches and buzzing mangrove swamps.  The place was strangely devoid of fauna, barring the occasional stingray or flitting silvery fish. The sky was so dark with clouds that it almost seemed like night.  The air had turned frigid, causing a diaphanous mist that played across the island dotted seascape.

As the Shrike rounded a mangrove islet, Kham pointed to another island emerging from the mist behind it.  It was a large archipelago with a tree-shrouded cove that rose in steep cliffs.  

“There,” said Kham.  “The lair of the Leviathan.”

They had created a truss for Kham and strapped it to Cal’s back, over the shoulder of the Ss’ressen.  Kham was still weak as a kitten, although he was more aware of his surroundings after drinking some water.

The lurching stopped.  Baldric immediately took control of the ship and sailed the Shrike around the lesser isle to use the trees for cover.

“Well,” said Vlad, strapping his shield on his back, “no time like the present.”

As they boarded the little boat, the crew wished them good luck.  All except Baldric.

The crew parted as Baldric approached Ilmarė.  He had an ivory handled knife in a leather sheath in his hand.  

Baldric looked the blade over thoughtfully.  “This be th' Captain’s knife. It nere failed th' lad, e'en in th' worst o' odds. I didna like th' lad much, but he be a jack an' our comrade. His death requires...vindication.”  

Baldric put his hand on Ilmarė’s shoulder.  His expression changed from a kindly old salt to that of a bloodthirsty pirate.  “Allow Captain Bezyli his final retort.”

“I’m only borrowing it,” said Ilmarė softly.  She plucked the knife out of Baldric’s weathered hands and tucked it into her belt. “It belongs in your hands.”  Ilmarė closed Baldric’s hands.  “A captain’s hands.”

Then the little boat with its motley crew was lowered into the sea.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 8a: The Caves*

As they approached the island, they could see an ancient vine-encrusted temple atop the cliff at the far end of the cove, some distance away.  

“That’s where the Children of Leviathan make their homes,” said Kham, pointing over Cal’s shoulder at the temple.  “I escaped through there,” he pointed at the small beach on the western edge of the cove.  A cave entrance lay beyond.

They landed and made their way into the dark cave.  Despite its proximity to the water, it was dry.  It reeked of decaying fish and seaweed.  

“At the rear of this cave is a damp passageway that slopes downward,” said Kham.  “It leads to a pool and steps up to a larger cavern with a hole in the roof.  I remember seeing a winch mounted on the edge of the hole when I fled, so I suspect they must be keeping their booty or supplies there. Look!”

He pointed to a pile of creates near one wall.  They had a Mhyrcian merchant stamp on them.  

“Cargo of the Dauntless,” said Vlad.  

Hanging on the far end of the cave were four water skins and a gourd.

“Just exactly how did you escape?” asked Ilmarė.

“Through here,” Kham pointed at the passageway that descended into darkness.

“Maybe you’re still a little dehydrated,” said Vlad.  “That passageway is filled with water.”

Kham shook his head.  “No, no, no.  It was dry when I was here.”

“High tide,” said Bijoux.  “How far is it to the cave?”

“Far,” said Kham.  All the talking tired him out.  “Far enough that I don’t think you can swim it.”

Cal loosened the straps that held Kham and plopped him on the ground.

“Ow,” said Kham.

He sniffed the gourd and then took a swig of it.  Flashing his companions a wide, toothy grin, he dove into the inky water and disappeared from sight.

“He’s not by any chance part-frog, is he?” asked Kham.

“I think he’s more reptile, less amphibian,” said Vlad.

“Then he’s a dead reptile,” said Kham.  He closed his eyes.  “Wake me when it’s over.”

Moments later Cal resurfaced.  He reared back and vomited a huge amount of seawater.  

“It lets you breathe water,” said the Ss’ressen.  Then he roughly picked up Kham.  

His eyes fluttered open.  “Wha…?”

“Drink,” said Cal, shoving the gourd into his mouth and upending its contents.  Kham sputtered in surprise as the liquid poured down his throat.

“Wait a minute,” said Kham, “if you think I’m going to go down there strapped to your back you are out of scaly mind! What if the potion only works on lizards?”

“Then you will drown,” said Cal.  He tightened the straps and this time tied Kham so that they were back to back.  Cal threw the gourd to the others.

“I want to be strapped to somebody else!” said Kham, looking around desperately for sympathy. “Why am I attached to the suicidal alligator?”

“Drink.  Then follow,” said Cal.  Before Kham could say any more, he dove into the water.

“Will they be alright?” asked Bijoux, peering into the contents of the gourd. She sipped from the gourd.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Ilmarė.  “Just think of it as Kham getting what he deserves.”

Vlad took a swig of the gourd and dove into the water. 

“What did he do?” asked Bijoux.

Ilmarė finished off the contents of the gourd.  

“What didn’t he do?” she responded.  Then she dove into the water.

Bijoux sighed. “I hate water,” she said.

Then she followed Ilmarė into the cold water of the passageway.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 8b: The Caves*

They crept up a naturally hewn stairway to get a better view of the cavern, which had a gaping hole in the roof.  A winch hung from the lip. The cavern walls danced with a lurid play of shadows and light from the top of the steps.  

Once they reached the top, a large pile of crates, barrels and chests were visible at the center of the tier.  Then the source of the light became apparent.

It was the lithe black woman that killed Captain Bezyli, her head wreathed with writhing snakes.  She faced a stone altar that shed a sickly greenish flame, its surface carved with carven images.  A well-muscled man with a wicked looking club lined with razor sharp shark teeth stood behind it.

Kham coughed and wheezed at Cal, spitting up seawater.  “If the ladies weren’t taking a bath,” he said in reference to his handgonnes, “I’d shoot you.” 

“Shh!” hissed Ilmarė.

“Uh, I think they see us,” said Vlad.

The woman turned towards them, her face obscured by a scaly pulsing green mask studded with gems, coral and crowned with swaying serpents.  The large man grinned a grin filled with sharpened teeth.  He struck a tubular bell next to him that resounded with a hollow peal.

“Get ready,” said Vlad, drawing his sword.

With a roar, the cultist bounded up a chest to vault onto the hanging rope.  He slashed at the rope and something gave, swinging him towards Vlad.

“Down!” shouted Vlad as the winch whistled overhead.  

The WOOSH of a spiked club penetrated the air where Vlad’s head had been.  Vlad turned to face his assailant.  Cal spun his axe out from his back, nearly nicking Kham in the face.

“Target the woman!” shouted Ilmarė.  She drew her bow and fired, but the masked woman fled through a door on the other side of the altar.

Vlad parried another blow with his shield and stabbed the big man in the thigh.  The retaliating swing from the cultist nearly pushed him off the edge of the tier into the water.  He teetered for a moment and then righted himself even as the cultist lunged forward.  

It was a mistake.  Vlad was not nearly as unbalanced as he appeared. He hunched low and stabbed the cultist in the abdomen.  The cultist fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

“I could get used to fighting in chainmail,” Vlad said with a satisfied smile.

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea,” sang Cal.

“Why do you keep singing that damn…oh…” Kham craned his neck to see.  The Ss’ressen and the Val were both staring upwards with wide eyes.

Vlad spun around to see a giant octopus, its rubbery skin covered in seaweed and slime, crawling itself along the cliff where he stood.  

“We can take it Cal,” said Vlad, hunching down behind his shield.  Quintus’ words echoed in his head. “Stand your ground!”

Five tentacles snaked up over the cliff, each wielding a longsword.  They snapped and darted like snakes, gifted with inhuman speed no human swordsman could ever match.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Ilmarė, knocking another arrow.

Vlad didn’t have time to respond as two blades struck at him simultaneously.  He blocked one with his shield and parried the other with his longsword.  The blows were strong enough to rattle his teeth.

Cal suffered the wrath of three of the swords and he didn’t have the benefit of a shield.  A gash appeared in his scales along his chest and another on his thigh, spinning him about like a top.  Ss’ressen and passenger went flying in different directions.

“Oh crap,” said Vlad as all five tentacles arched backwards to strike at him.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 8c: The Caves*

Vlad’s world was awhirl with steel and tentacles.  Vlad rolled and dove behind a crate as one sword smashed through it. Another forced him to jump clear of its low swing.  He blocked a third with his shield, but it connected well enough to drive furrows beneath Vlad’s boot heels in the sand.

One of the tentacles slapped aside the remains of the crate when suddenly it was sliced in half, squirting octopus ichor.  

Cal, sans Kham, had transformed into a roaring, hacking ball of rage.  His usual webbed earflaps stood straight up in a fan around his head as he set upon the Leviathan with fury.  Two tentacles stabbed him in the chest, but he seemed unaware of the wounds.  Calactyte set upon the tentacles with his clawed feet, with his teeth, with his claws and even his tail.  

The Leviathan was momentarily preoccupied, but judging from the number of wounds Cal was bleeding from, Vlad knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed.

Vlad was struggling to his feet when he heard a strange hiss behind him.

“Down!” shouted Kham.

There was a concussive BOOM! that rocked the cavern.  Something large and heavy whistled past Vlad’s ear and tore through the Leviathan, ripping it off the edge of the cavern’s outcropping.  Cal dug into the ground with all four claws as the blast struck the Leviathan, leaving rubbery gibbets of giant octopus all around him.

“What the hell was that?” shouted Vlad.

Kham was on the ground near a blasted crate, covered in soot.  His white smile was unmistakable.  

“I loaded the cannon before the Dauntless was boarded,” said Kham.  “I was hoping to fire it, but they got to us before I could.”

The momentum of the blast had propelled the wheeled cannon backwards, splintering a door behind it.  

A terrific cacophony arose from the ceiling above them.  The air was filled with a hail of spears as cultists arrived on the balcony to pepper them from above.

Ilmarė poked her head out of the broken doorway.  “There’s some kind of portal in here,” shouted Ilmarė.  “But we need a key.”

Bijoux bounded from one crate to the next.  “I see it!” she said, pointing at the glowing altar.

Vlad ran over to Kham, shield over his head.  “Can you fire that thing again?” He pointed at the cultists above them.

“Sure.  If you could find someone strong enough to lift a 2,500 pound cannon and aim it.”

Cal picked up a crate and hurled it at the ledge with a roar. The gibbering and spears stopped for a moment.

Kham and Vlad exchanged glances.

“He’ll do,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 8d: The Caves*

Bijoux spread her wingflaps and launched herself towards the altar.  The air had become a forest of flying spears, such that she had to twist and bend to avoid them.  One spear through her wingflaps would ground her.

She landed on the altar and peered in.  It was a carved rock altar with a large glass bowl.  At the bottom of the bowl was a golden ring with a key mounted on it.  

And a snake.  Or an eel.  Bijoux wasn’t familiar with Onaran wildlife.

Bijoux took a deep breath.  She didn’t have time to fool around by fishing around in the bowl and the snakey thing—whatever it was—would certainly bite her.  It would take all of her catlike reflexes to snatch it out of the bowl.  It would require all her concentration.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered.  With a swipe of her claws, she shattered the bowl.  

The snake flopped around for a moment.  Bijoux hesitated, then grabbed the small snake by its tail and dumped it into her leather pouch.  If she left the snake where it was, it would surely die. 

“Sorry,” she said to the snake. “Hopefully we’ll laugh about this later.”

Vlad shouted from under his shield. “Calactyte, can you lift the cannon?” 

The big lizard’s head turned to pinpoint the source of the sound.

“I don’t know if we want his attention,” said Kham.  “He looks really pissed.”

“Cal!” shouted Vlad.  He pointed at the cannon.  “Can you turn the cannon?  That way!”  He pointed towards the cultists.

Somewhere in the murderous fog of Calactyte’s mind the concept made it through.  He roared again and barreled towards the Altherian cannon.

“I don’t think he’s gonna stop,” said Kham.

Every muscle bulged as Cal grabbed the cannon with both claws.  Sinew and scales strained and tore as the cannon was hoisted off of the ground and turned 45 degrees to face the cultists.  He heaved it just a few feet, but it did the trick.

The cannon landed with a horrendous thud.  The cultists paused in their shouting.

Vlad ran over and dropped a cannonball into the mouth of the weapon.  

Ilmarė poured blackpowder into the cannon. Kham use his flint and steel to spark it.

There was a strange, crackling sound from deep within the cannon. 

“It’s jammed!” shouted Kham, crawling away as fast as he could, which was not fast enough.  “She’s gonna blow!”

Bijoux glided to the top of the cannon. She withdrew the staff from her back and shoved it down the barrel.  

There was a hollow ring as the cannonball hit the bottom of the cannon.  The Fihali leapt off of the mouth of the cannon as it fired.

The shot crashed through the lip of the cavern wall above, partially collapsing it beneath dozens of cultists.  They screamed as they fell.  Then there was only broken bodies and dust.

The force of the explosion had knocked the cannon backwards into the wall.  One of the four wheels fell off.

“Can Altherians make cannons or what?” said Kham.

Cultists stream through the door where the snake-haired woman had escaped.

“Great,” said Ilmarė, knocking another arrow.  “They finally figured out how to use the steps.”


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 8e: The Caves*

“I have the key,” said Bijoux, dangling the gold ring from one of her claws.  “Perhaps we should leave?”

Vlad pointed to Kham.  “Cal, get Kham.  Let’s hope that portal leads to somewhere safe.”

“No!” shouted Kham as Cal picked him up like a rag doll and strapped him onto his back.  “We can’t leave the cannon!”

“There’s no way we can carry it,” said Vlad as a volley of spears pierced several crates near his head.

“You’re right,” said Kham slowly.  “We can’t carry it.”

Vlad and Kham shared a knowing nod.  

Kham encompassed the other crates and barrels in the room.  “See all this? It’s ammunition and blackpowder to fire this cannon. Grab a barrel.”

Bijoux peeked into the small cave.  At the rear of the cave was a circular stone arch one and a half spear lengths high made of greenstone.  It was carved with disturbing and lurid aquatic motifs.

“I’m not sure where to put the key,” said Bijoux.

Ilmarė shook her head.  She fired two arrows and two more cultists dropped. “Me neither.  Stick it into something that looks like a keyhole and twist.”

Vlad grabbed a barrel of blackpowder and uncorked it.  Black, fine grains trailed behind him. 

“Now what,” shouted Vlad as he ran over to Kham and Cal. 

“Run,” said Kham.  Cal started to take a step towards the portal.  “Not us.  Not yet.”

Bijoux wrinkled her nose at the portal.  She stuck it into somewhere into the carvings and turned.  The portal began to pulse with a sickly green aura.

“Yuck,” she said.  

The hail of spears stopped as cultists swarmed over the crates, closing in on the small cavern entrance. 

Vlad barreled past Bijoux, trailing blackpowder, and disappeared with a FWHIP! in a green flash.

“Time to go!” shouted Ilmarė.  She dove through the portal and flashed out of existence.

Bijoux gave one worried glance over her shoulder at Cal and Kham, then dove through the portal herself.

“Now Cal!  Run!” shouted Kham. Cal pounded towards the portal, Kham facing the other way in his truss. 

One of the cultists stepped through the entranceway, spear raised.

Kham tossed a match onto the blackpowder trail.  A sparking path sizzled its way from the gate, between the cultist’s legs, out from the cave entrance…

The cultist looked down at the fiery trail and then behind him.

“The Altherian government sends its regards,” said Kham as Cal hurled them both through the portal.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 9a: Flight from the Island*

They appeared at the top of the cliffs on the northern side of the cove, where an ancient tower rose up above it.  There was a terrific explosion from the sea caves to their right.  Smoke, dust, and screams rose up from the opening.

Beneath a palm tree, near a single outrigger, was the snake-haired woman. The strange mask swiveled towards them in surprise.

“Take her out before she can turn us to stone” said Vlad.  He ran down spiraling steps inside the stone tower and barreled towards her.  Cal and Kham were close behind.  

The masked woman pointed and a spiraling glob of acid leaped from her finger. Bijoux shrieked as her fur was singed. 

“Where’s the ship?” said Ilmarė, scanning the horizon.  The Shrike should have been anchored at a tall cliff, but it was no longer there.

Down below, Vlad and Cal were steps away from the masked woman when she put her fingers together and a fan of flames engulfed them. Screaming and on fire, they dove to the side into the water.

Ilmarė knocked an arrow and fired, but it bounced off a magical field.  “I can’t hit her,” she said, shaking her head. 

Bijoux hopped up on a crumbling crenellation.  “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” said Bijoux.  

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė.  “She’ll petrify you!”

Bijoux was already in the air.

Ilmarė reached for another arrow, only to grab the hilt of Captain Bezyli’s knife at her belt.  

She drew it.  The knife was perfectly balanced and almost seemed to hum when she held the blade between her fingertips.  

On impulse, Ilmarė drew back one arm and launched it at the masked woman.  The blade struck home. It struck true through one of the mask’s eyes.  A hollow scream echoed from behind it.

Bijoux sailed through the air towards the masked woman.  She pointed at Bijoux and a bright white beam sizzled past her.  

Then Bijoux set upon her with fangs and claws.  She bit down into the woman’s neck and tore her throat out.

Cal and Vlad stood up put of the surf.  Behind Cal, Kham sputtered.  

“Uh, guys…” said Kham.

Vlad looked down at Bijoux, who gulped the blood from the dead woman.  “I didn’t know the Fihali could do that.”

”Guys,” said Kham.

Ilmarė joined them.  Inexplicably, the knife was back in her hands. “That’s enough Bijoux,” she said.

Bijoux looked up, her chin soaked with blood.  She wiped it off with the back of one arm.

“Now let’s see about this mask,” said the Elorii.  She yanked the knife out of the dead woman’s face and tried to pry the mask off, but it crumbled, leaving a faceless skull beneath.  

”HEY!” shouted Kham.  “I don’t want to alarm anyone and I recognize that I have a unique perspective on the situation since I’m strapped to the back of a homicidal lizard, but I thought you might want to know that there are about a million cultists running straight toward us!”


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Part 9b: Flight from the Island*

Sure enough, cultists were streaming from the ruined temple at the center of the island.  They put up a great shout as they came closer, frothing at the mouth with weapons raised high.

“The outrigger!” shouted Vlad.  They filed into the boat and each took a paddle.  

“Row!” shouted Kham.  “Row faster!”

All around them the water was filled with spear shafts.  

“Not.  Helping,” said Ilmarė through gritted teeth as she put her back into it.

Several groups of cultists came down the cliffs with canoes, ready to give chase.  Many more of the fanatical madmen pitched spears from the cliff tops above.  A spear thunked loudly into the prow.  

“Oh great, we’ve got company,” said Kham as three canoes filled with cannibal cultists sliced fast through the water.

The enemy canoe sailed towards them, filled with snarling devils armed with sharpened teeth and sharper spears.  They raised their weapons up…

BOOM!

The head of the lead attacker burst in a shower of blood and gore.  

“The Prophet!” shouted Kham. 

A cacophony of explosions fired from the Altherian gunship known as the Prophet, its prow lined with cannons.  They formed a line along the rail, loosing a deadly volley of lead. The cannonfire tore through the cultists, obliterating the canoes and filling the air with drifting smoke and the scent of blood.

The cultists fell back, routed. The Prophet disgorged boats loaded with Altherian Patrolmen, who waved as they sailed past them.

“We did it!” shouted Kham.  He wriggled out of his truss and stood on the edge of the outrigger.  “Hail, my Altherian brothers!” 

Then he fainted.


----------



## talien

*The Children of Leviathan - Conclusion*

After resting and recovering from their wounds in comfortable rooms of a sumptuous Milandisian manor in Naeraanth, they were summoned for a banquet.  It was to be a feast held in their honor by none other than His Majesty King Osric IV of Milandir.  

Dressed in proper attire, they followed a steward down a long hallway.  It led to a set of large doors carved with hunting motifs. 

The steward swung open the doors to reveal the officers of the Shrike seated around a long rectangular table at the center of a large stone hall.  The hall was lined with many extravagant tapestries, a roaring fireplace and other sundry trappings.

A man with short, dark curly hair was seated at the head of the table.  All the guests stood as they entered.  

“Greetings,” he said.  “I am Alexius Waldulf, the manor castellan.  Unfortunately, is majesty King Osric will not be in attendance this evening, as matters of import in Tralia kept him away.  His majesty sends his apologies.”

Vlad was visibly disappointed.  Kham shrugged.  Ilmarė rolled her eyes. Cal and Bijoux just looked at the food on the table.  

“However,” continued Alexius, “please be assured that you will be paid in full for your efforts.  Each of you has rightly earned the grateful favor of the Crown for your service to Milandir.  As for the crew of the Shrike,” he turned towards the other men. They were all there: Captain Baldric, Edward, even Crazy Bob.  Baldric and Edward wore officer’s insignias on new jackets. “You will all receives pardons and officers commissions!”

The men went wild, cheering and hooting in a decidedly inappropriate manner.  Alexius raised his mug.

“His Majesty offers you a hunting feast!”  He rang a dainty silver bell.

The bright peal of the bell summoned many servants carrying trays.  They festooned the table with varied dishes, venison and decorative delicacies under or upon silver serving dishes, trays and decanters.

“We were looking for Cassicus,” said Ilmarė out of the side of her mouth.  “That’s why Quintus sent us to find you.”

The servants lifted the tops of the serving trays, revealing succulent smells of roasted saucy meats, breads, fancy stews and puddings, dark gravies, bright vegetables, sweet woodland fruits, truffles, mushrooms and subtle spices. 

“Great,” said Kham.  “Who’s Cassicus?”

As wine and mead was poured out, two servants started a quiet whispered argument over one last dish that remained uncovered.

“Senator Tensen-Balin’s son, remember?” said Vlad on the other side of Kham.

The castellan walked over the servants and became embroiled in an argument with the head servant about the dish.

“Oh yeah,” said Kham.  “Right.  Well.  I’m going to be a bit preoccupied here.  But I’ll catch up.”

The servant was clearly reluctant to uncover the tray, indicating that it was inappropriate given present company.

“Like you did last time?” said Vlad.  “I haven’t seen you since Sweet Savona.”

Alexius was incensed.  He asked if the servant thought his guests weren’t good enough for the servant’s opinions or his chef’s dishes. 

“It’s not every day you get named the Consort of Larissa,” said Kham with a satisfied smirk. “But give Quintus my regards.  I’ll try to meet you when I can.  I’ve got to give a report to the Altherian government.”

Alexius began to shout at the servant, demanding the dish be revealed.  

Cal sniffed at the tray.

The servant apologized to the castellan but did not move to uncover the dish.

With a swipe of one huge claw, Cal tugged the lid of the tray.

It was a large steamed octopus, decorated with many cooked shellfish and tucked in bundles of edible seaweed.

“Who lives in the grotto down under the sea?” sand Cal in his baritone voice.

The rest of the table paused in shock.  Then they burst out into raucous laughter and joined in.

“LE-VI-A-THAN!
An aspect o' Yarris an' evil be he!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
If nautical nightmares be somethin’ ye fear,
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Then run fer yer lives and dump all yer gear!
LE-VI-A-THAN!
Ready?
Leviathan, Leviathan, Leviathan, le-VI-A-THANNNNNNN!”

Kham slapped his forehead.  “Gods, he taught ALL of you that song?!”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Introduction*

This is the fourth soft point of Year 2 of the tournament module, "Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe," written by Chris Jarvis and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note that this story hour contains spoilers! Our cast of characters includes:

·	Ilmarė Galen (Elf Brd3), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Vlad Martell (Human Ftr3), played by Matt Hammer.
·	Calactyte (Ss’ressen Bar1), played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
·	Bijoux (Fihali 2/Drd1), played by Melissa Gendron
·	Sebastian Arnyal (Dark-kin Sor 2) played by George Webster
·	Beldin (Dwarf Ftr2) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Kham (Val Rog 1/PW 2) played by Jeremy Ortiz http://www.dreamsculptor.com 

I was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net 

This session took place over several hours at a Memorial Day barbecue.  I knew it would take long with the sheer amount of detailed NCPs that the party had to face.  I was also prepared this time, with cardboard maps and props, miniatures of all types (including my collection of painted lead miniatures, figures from the Pirate Battle game, and toys from a party store), and of course, my pirate mask.

What ensued was complete chaos.  This was a grand melee of seven players against all kinds of enemies, such that I can’t even cover them all in the story hour.  I hope you enjoy how I chose to portray them, as the bad guys are like the Legion of Doom—they’re just evil versions of the good guys.  Just about everybody has an evil counterpart, but my favorite was Zainat Zameri, the clerical gunslinger who is after the bounty on Kham’s head. I had plans to use the dueling rules from D20 Deadlands…but with Kham, things never go according to plan.

In fact, I created an entire inn complete with tables, chairs, walls, fireplace, a menu, etc.  Nobody ever made it there.

Oh well. As Amber says, “eventually, someone’s going to have a fight in an inn.”  So one day I’ll get to use it.  I hope.

I discovered that Sycorax is actually from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Although she’s long dead by the time the play starts, her presence is always felt through her malformed fish-like son, Caliban.  If you’re familiar with the play, the ending will come as no surprise. That means somewhere out there is an island with Prospero’s staff and book and Ariel the sprite!

As an aside, I'm going to post some pictures of what the other characters look like (as the players grant me permission to do so).  I first when with concepts generated through HeroMachine: http://www.heromachine.com

But then I started to change the HeroMachine portraits to match the miniatures.  So here then is Quintus where we last left him, just starting out as a signifer in the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Prologue*

"If Camring becomes heir to the throne of Sea Lord Drac, we’re out of business."

Zainat thrust one hand through his shock of black curls.  The idiot next to him was getting drunker by the minute and spewing information like a fountain.  A fountain of beer.

"Ya mentioned smuggling," Zainat repeated, slow enough for even the extremely inebriated to understand.  "So?"

Zainat's drinking companion's face, an explosion of stubble, jowls of flesh, and scars, crinkled up in confusion.  "We're in the same boat, mate.  I know what you do."

Zainat fingered the green brooch at his neck. "Oh ya do, do ya?"

"Right," the fellow said.  Zainat didn't even know his name.  "You're…fond of doing what needs to be done, and laws be damned, right?" He jabbed Zainat in the ribs with an elbow. "Right?"

Zainat nodded before he was bruised further.  "So if House val’Ossan supports Camring’s claim to tha throne and a regency council rules in his stead, we’re all kicked, is that it?"

"Damn right," the drunk said, slurping loudly from his mug.  "It's Censurites like that," he gestured at a tall, hawk-faced woman at the far corner of the tavern, "that ruin it for the rest."

Zainat's eyes lit up.  He recognized her bright red cloak.  Zainat adjusted his midnight blue watch coat and slid off the stool. 

"You give her what for," muttered the drunk from the bar. Zainat nodded over his shoulder but kept his eyes on the woman.  She was talking intently to three other people at the table.

Zainat could sniff out a mercenary recruitment drive from a mile away. He slid over to a seat nearer the four of them to get a better look.  

"I thank you for your quick response to my request," the red headed woman said.  "Rest assured, you will be well compensated in assisting my master for this small matter.  You each have been selected for your particular skills.  I trust you will not disappoint."

She nodded towards a large man, swathed entirely in ebony silks and leathers.  "Master Knenag will be your guide.  He knows Freeport well."  The man, a Cancerite judging by his pale skin and dark hair, thrust out his chin a bit but otherwise said nothing.  

Zainat thought there was nothing quite so pathetic as a Cancerite down on his luck.  He must have been desperate to take on such work.

"Mistress Andrel’s vast knowledge will serve you well.  She has come very far from Entaris."

The female was undeniably Elorii.  She was also quite striking, with perfect posture and an icy gaze.  She was a Kelekene, descended from the fire god, as evidenced by her pointed ears and honey gold hair.

"If the child is still alive," she said in a monotone whisper, "we'll find him."

"Yes, we shall!" shouted the third woman, with dusky black skin, glowing amber eyes, and three-inch bone-white horns that adorned her head.  "Amalia Grat,” she referred to herself in third person, “will catch the little bastard for sure."

The speaker was a dark-kin.  Zainat hated dark-kin. He couldn't take it any longer.  

"Again?" Zainat said.

"What?"

"I said, 'Again?'  Andrea Blax’s agents been lookin’ fer tha brat for weeks.  The Rusty-Knife Boys keep coverin’ his escape.”

Amalia's mouth opened in surprise—for once, no sound came out of it.  Her brows furrowed, but before she could come up with a retort, the Censurite waved Zainat over. 

"You must be Master Zameri.  I was not sure if you were going to join us."

Zainat stood up, spat, and walked over to the table.  "Why didn'tcha tell them about tha other attempts, Locksan?"

Locksan stared at Zainat for a long moment.  Then she turned back to Amalia.  "Captain Blax prefers this matter to be handled discreetly.  Camring is Thralen Vodric val’Ossan’s nephew, an influential member of the Merchants’ Guild and one of the most dangerous men in Freeport.  Captain Blax needs a bargaining tool without incurring the wrath of the Royal House of Milandir."

Zainat smirked.  "And ya hired these thugs? Ya couldn’t find nobody else?"

Locksan put a calming hand on Amalia's shoulder as the warrior’s face turned red.  "Captain Blax’s agents have already failed. It is my master's hope that a small group can do discreetly what the other agents could not."

"I didn't agree to him going along," said Amalia, jabbing a thumb in Zainat's direction.

"You weren't asked," Locksan said firmly.  "The Captain insists."

"Let's go," said the Elorii before Amalia could protest.  "Every moment spent talking is more time for the val’Ossans to put Camring on the throne."

"Good. Here is a description of what the boy looks like," he handed a scroll to Amalia. "A priest waits outside to shepherd you through."

Amalia abruptly stood up and shrugged on a flamberge onto her back. She wore a coif of copper washed chain to a formfitting breastplate.  Her long quilted skirt was studded with copper rings; it was slit to allow for the movement of her long, whip-like tail and blue leather booted legs.  

The Elorii shook her head and gracefully left the table.  That left the Cancerite.  He nodded at Zainat but did not extend his hand.  "Name's Broled. If vere going to verk together, you should learn it vell."

Zainat tipped his hat to Broled.  Then he followed him out the door.  

Outside, the Elorii was keeping her distance from the dark-kin, who stood with hands on hips, scowling at the surrounding terrain.

"So tell me Broled," said Zainat, keeping his eye on the strange warrior woman’s back.  "How does a dark-kin get caught up in this mess?"

Broled shrugged.  "Never met her before," he said in low tones. "But she is a bit…loud."

"Amalia is one of the most feared hired swords in Freeport," said the Elorii, turning towards them.  "Captain Blax’s agents have crossed her in the past. They’re still picking up the pieces."

"I didn't think you were in earshot," said Zainat.

A sly smirk slipped across the Elorii's lips.  "I'm always in earshot," she said in the same monotone.  "My name is Neyadis."

"Neyadis," said Zainat.  "Pretty name."

The Elorii turned away from him as a haggard-looking man approached them. A bracelet of thorns was wrapped around his left wrist.  Zainat recognized him as a Priest of Anshar, the clergy dedicated to maintaining the teleportation gates that could move anyone from one side of Arcanis to the other.

"Wait," he said.  "We're goin’ through a Gate? "

Amalia turned around.  "Of course. How else did you think we were going to get to Freeport?"

Zainat began patting himself down.  "It's just that I wasn't…"

"Prepared?"  Amalia watched as Zainat silently counted to himself.

"He's an Altherian," said Neyadis.  "He's counting his ammunition."

Amalia walked face to face with Zainat.  "I will not have you endanger this mission with your foolish 'gifts'!" 

Zainat counted to ten.  "Don’t gitcher britches in a bunch.  I don't have enough powder to cause any problems."

"Is there a problem?" said the priest.

"No!" Amalia and Zainat shouted at the same time. 

"Then follow me, please.  Time is of the essence."

Amalia harrumphed and followed the priest with a swirl of his cloak. Broled fell in step behind next to Zainat.  "Vhy is Amalia so angry?"

"Because she's insecure?" he responded.

"She's angry," Neyadis said softly behind them, "because if too much powder goes through a gate, it explodes."

Zainat spat in front of Broled as the man's eyes widened.  

"Powder for vhat?" Broled said after a moment.

Zainat patted the blackwood stock and mother-of-pearl handle of his flintlock hanging from a holster on his belt.  "Altherian secret.  You'll find out soon enough."


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 1a: Freeport Bound*

Ilmarė was in that place, the island where the Children of Leviathan stalked the waves and jungles of Milguldihar.  

She was flying.  Ilmarė flew through a lovely emerald forest and over verdant tropical reefs alive with dancing, colorful fishes.  It was low tide and there were many sparkling pools along the scented coast.  

Some movement caught her eye. Ilmarė turned to see what it was.

A lone boy, not ten summers old, frolicked amongst the tide pools.  She drew closer, wondering what a hapless child might be doing in such a place.

As Ilmarė approached the boy, he beckoned her forward, humming and skipping merrily along the rocky beach.  He led her to a lone tide pool beneath the cool shade of a giant gnarled tree on the shore.  

Ilmarė stood over him as the boy looked into the pool.  He dropped a squirming crab into it.

The crab scuttled about for a bit.  Then tiny tentacles suddenly snapped it up.  An emerging octopus, no larger than her fist, latched on to the crab in a death grip.  

In the glassy water’s surface, the boy’s smiling reflection glared back at her.  But it was not that of an angelic boy.  It was the field and sharpened grin of a shark, with a maw that belonged on no normal child.

Ilmarė jolted out of her meditation, Captain Bezyli’s knife in her hand. 

“Just a daydream,” she said to herself.  Ilmarė tried to focus on her breathing.  “Just a daydream.”

The sun was peeking over the horizon in Naeraanth. It was time to get up anyway.

Ilmarė washed and dressed, padding lightly down the steps into the common room of the tavern. They were all there: Calactyte, the hulking lizard man; Bijoux, the stealthy cat-woman; and of course faithful Vlad, who looked more than a little hung over.  

She joined them at the table.  They were all focused on Captain Baldric, who was regaling them with a tale. 

“-th' boy ye’re lookin' fer,” he was saying.  “Captain Wendron Krubach be one o' th' most fearsome gentleman o' fortunes t' sail th' seas o' Onara, he be. His ship be th' Black Egret. I crossed th' lad once,” he stroked his eye patch. “But word has come that suddenly Captain Krubach sailed' mad.”

“Why do we care?” asked Ilmarė out of the corner of her mouth.

“Captain Baldric thinks he knows where Cassicus is,” said Vlad.  

“Krubach changed course an' sailed' straight after an isle, arrr nay one had ere heard o' before,” said Baldric. “His crew mutinied, but Krubach made them keel haul th' plank. Th' remainin' crew be forced t' assault th' isle, arrr. Many o' them sank t'Davy Jones' locker. But they had the'r prize: a boy nobody heard o'. An important boy, by all rights. Last seen, he be sailin' hard fer Freeport. If ye’re lookin' fer a missin' boy, I lay odds that’s th' lad.”

“It’s a long shot,” said Ilmarė. 

“It sounds like our only shot,” said a familiar voice at a nearby table.  It was Sebastian, the dark-kin sorcerer.  Beldin, Sebastian’s erstwhile dwarven companion, sat next to him. 

“You made it!” said Vlad, getting up to greet the pair.

Sebastian looked a little surprised by the warmth of the greeting. He put one gloved hand in Vlad’s and shook it.  “Quintus left us a message that you were gathering here to look for Cassicus.”

Vlad nodded. “It’s good to have you with us,” he said.  Vlad nodded towards Baldric.  “We’re in.”

“Wait,” said Ilmarė.  “We have no idea if the boy is really Cassicus.  Quintus hasn’t contacted us in a week.  What makes you think that Baldric’s tale is even true?”

Vlad lifted his chin.  “I have business in Freeport.  So I’m in.  You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Business, hmm?” Ilmarė took a deep breath.  “And you two?” she asked of the lizard and the cat.

“Money?” asked Cal.

“Aye,” said Captain Baldric, “ye’ll get yer share o' th' booty once we…” he stroked his eye patch again, “once I takes care o' Captain Krubach.”

“Then I’m going,” said Cal.

“You will need my help,” said Bijoux.  “The creatures of the sea will not respond kindly to the intrusion of men.  I will go.”

Ilmarė frowned.  “I wouldn’t be so quick to-“

She was interrupted by a very loud, “BURRRRRRRRRRRRRP!”

“Osalian help me,” said Ilmarė without looking at the source, “that can only be—“

“Kham!” shouted Vlad.  “I thought you had left for Altheria!”  He punched Kham on the shoulder, who had sat at the bar unnoticed until his gaseous expulsion. 

“I was supposed to,” said Kham. “But uh,” he shoved a torn piece of parchment* further into one of his pockets, “I’ve had a change of heart.”

Baldric got up and the others followed suit. They all turned to look at Ilmarė.

Ilmarė hesitated.  She knew Quintus would have wanted them to investigate any trail that might lead to Cassicus, but she was torn between pursuing the boy or waiting for the legionnaire to return.  Where was he? 

The Elorii chastised herself for worrying.  She would not allow her affection for the human to become a burden.

“Fine,” said Ilmarė.  “I’m going with you.”  She waggled a finger at Vlad.  “But we’ll have to be careful.  Freeport is like no other place we’ve been before.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Vlad.  He put one arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and another around Ilmarė’s.  “We’re all going to Freeport!”

*To see what changed Kham’s mind, view the attachment.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 1b: Freeport Bound*

The journey had been uneventful, though the Shrike appeared to be following in the wake of some sort of autumn storm: the southeastern horizon roiled with tumbling black clouds and foaming white wind-driven waves.  

Baldric had his hat in one hand before Bijoux.  He stood with a small furry animal beneath one arm. 

“Well lass, I know we spake that cats be bad luck an' all, but after ye came aboard an' we be pardoned an' all, well, we be thinkin'.”

Bijoux was taken aback.  Her tail flicked nervously behind her.  “Yes?”

“We figure ye be good luck, an' we wanted t' keep that wi' th' Shrike. So we got ourselves a cat,” said Baldric.  He thrust in front of Bijoux’s face a small hairy explosion of white and black.  It was indeed a feline.  

The cat looked at her with an expression of wide-eyed shocked that perfectly mirrored Bijoux’s. It wore a black scarf around its neck that was covered with a skull-and-bones pattern. “T' help catch th' rats…o' course.”

“It can’t even catch mice,” said Edward behind his captain.  “The Captain has a soft spot for strays.”

Baldric glared at Edward with his good eye.  “Ahem. Anyway, we be hopin' th' wee kitty would brin' us some luck when ye’re nay on board. So 't’s only right that ye name th' lass.”

“Name him?” asked Bijoux, eyebrows raised.

“Aye,” said Captain Baldric.  

The crew gathered around her expectantly.  

Bijoux’s eyes flickered everywhere looking for an escape. 

“Just say something,” said Ilmarė, “before they make us sing again.”

“How about…Maya?” said Bijoux.

The crowd cheered.  “Maya ‘tis!”

Captain Baldric handed Maya off to Edward and turned to Sebastian and Beldin, who were chuckling to themselves.

“As fer ye—we don’t like th' look o' ye,” said Baldric. The crew shuffled closer.  “Dwarves an' dark-kin be bad luck on a ship.”

Sebastian and Beldin exchanged glances.  “What did we do?”

“Ye’re goin' t' be havin' t' pass th' test,” said Baldric.

 “What test?” squeaked Sebastian.

Ilmarė slapped her forehead and walked to the other side of the ship.

“Debris 25 degrees to port at 120 yards!” shouted Crazy Bob.

Heads turned to look.  Sebastian and Beldin stepped away from each other during the momentary distraction.

“Steady as she goes helmsman,” said Captain Baldric. “Beware o' that debris. We don’t need t' get tangled up in anythin'. She’s runnin' mighty close t' shoals as be.”

Bijoux squinted into the distance.  “There’s someone in the debris,” she said.  “There!”

She pointed and everyone craned their necks to see.

“Yes, I see him,” said Ilmarė.  “About 100 yards towards the isle of Badru.”

“It’s a boy,” said Bijoux.  “He’s holding onto a wooden spar. It’s stuck on coral.”

A female’s voice, as if shouting through water, echoed in Bijoux’s mind.  “Save my child!”  Bijoux turned to stare at Ilmarė, but her lips hadn’t moved.

Vlad blinked.  “You two can see all that?  I can’t see anything but bits of wood.”

“Sounds like our boy,” said Kham.  “Captain, we need a boat.”

“I’m going with you,” said Bijoux.  

“Me too,” said Beldin.  “I am sworn to protect all humans.” He was eager to get away from the rest of the crew.

“You seem to have a selective memory about that,” muttered Kham under his breath.

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea?” Cal sang behind Kham.

Kham rubbed his temples.  “Fine, you can go too, but just stop singing that damn song.”

“You know he only sings that song when he thinks some deep sea monstrosity is going to eat us,” said Ilmarė.

“I know,” Kham snapped back.  “But at least I won’t have a headache.”


----------



## Paradigm

Kick ass. I can't wait to read a story based upon I Know Thee, Brother. Getting Rob Taylor as a GM must have been a treat, and the sessions you are putting on sound like an absolute blast!

See you at Gen Con


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 2a: Flotsam and Jetsam*

Kham steered the rudder as the ss’ressen rowed.  The rowboat lurched forward with each swing of the oars as the massive lizard put his back into it. 

Bijoux sat perched at the bow of the rowboat.  Beldin didn’t do much but sit in the middle in his banded armor.  He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Something bounced against the hull of the boat.  Bijoux dragged it up onto the boat.

“This wood has some writing on it, but I can’t make it out,” she said.

It read: BLA_K E_RE_

“That’d be the Black Egret,” said Beldin.

As they rowed closer to the shoals, the coral heads jutted upwards from the sea like jagged teeth.  Several outcroppings littered the path between the boat and the boy.

“Well, I guess we stop here,” said Kham.  He patted Cal on the shoulder to stop him from rowing further.

“Now what?” asked Cal.

Kham walked to the other side of the boat.  “Now, we jump.”

“What?” asked Beldin.  As he stood up, the boat rocked precariously.

Kham hopped from the prow of the boat onto an outcropping of coral.  He spun on one heel, arms out. 

“See?  Piece of cAAAAH!”

Kham slipped and slid down the side of the coral.  He managed to catch himself and scramble inelegantly back to his original position.

Kham dusted off his jacket, but it was no use.  The entire back of his overcoat was soaked.  “I’m uh, gonna go get the kid.”

“We’ll stay here,” said Beldin.

Kham leaped to another outcropping.  He had moved out of earshot, drowned out by the crashing of the surf against the coral reef.

“What is that?” asked Bijoux, pointing at a fin cresting the water’s surface.

“I don’t know,” said Beldin.  “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Me neither,” said Bijoux.  It was heading straight towards them.  “I’m not familiar with the native creatures of Onara.”

“I am,” said Cal, his reptilian eyes narrowing to slits.  “That’s a—“

“SHARK, you idiots!” Kham had been shouting at them with cupped hands, but only when the waves subsided could they hear him. “Three of them!”

Then something large slammed into the side of the boat.  There was a loud SPLOOSH!

Bijoux looked around.  “Where’s Beldin?”

“Who lives in a grotto down under the sea?” sang Cal in response.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 2b: Flotsam and Jetsam*

“Sharks,” said Kham, crossing his arms to pull out two pistols from their hostlers.  “Why did it have to be sharks?”

One of the fins ploughed a path straight towards the boy’s unconscious form.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Kham.  He kissed each one of his handgonnes.  “Ladies, don’t fail me now.”

Kham took aim at the shark just beneath the surface of the water.  It was over 20 feet in length, with tiger-like patterns along the broad gray-brown back.  

BLAM BLAM!

There was a swirl of bright red in the water as something thrashed and rolled.  Then the dark shape beneath the fin submerged again, disappearing into the coral reef.  

“Well, we showed him,” said Kham, holstering his pistols.  He hopped the last distance to the boy.  

The boy was unconscious. “Wake up kid,” said Kham, nudging him.  Eyelids fluttered open.

“W-who are you?” he asked. He was about ten years old, with long disheveled hair, fair skin, and the startling steel-gray eyes of a Val. He was clad in the garments typical for a shipboard cabin boy. 

“Not important.  All you need to know is I’m the guy with the pistols.” He hoisted the boy up over his shoulders.  “What’s more important is who you are.”

“Emric,” the boy said.  He put his arms around Kham’s neck.

“Emric?” Kham stretched out from the piece of driftwood and clambered up a coral reef. “That’s not short for Emricassicus by any chance, is it?”

“No sir,” Emric said.  

“Didn’t think so,” said Kham.  “Well, that’s my good deed for today.” He prepared to spring to the next shoal and then, upon seeing two more fins circling the boat, decided against it.  “Maybe we should just rest here for a moment.”

“Will they be okay?” said Emric, pointing at the fracas.

A bubble popped to the surface that sounded suspiciously liked “HELP!”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 2c: Flotsam and Jetsam*

The ship rocked again, harder than before.  Not one shark but two were hunting them, their fins appearing and disappearing as they circled ever closer.  Every once in awhile, one would dive down into the water to go after what Bijoux assumed was Beldin.  

The water was exceptionally clear at the reef, but she had difficulty making out his form.  It looked as if he were trying to climb up the reef.  Swimming was impossible in his armor.

Calactyte snarled as one of the fins sailed dangerously close to the boat.

“Be careful,” said Bijoux, “if you move too quickly you’ll—“

Leaving his huge axe behind, Cal launched himself into the water at the shark.  There was a momentary glimpse of saurian and shark locked in a vicious death struggle, all claws and teeth.  Then they both went under.

Bijoux swallowed the rising panic in her throat.  She had come to help those in need by beckoning Onara’s call.  And yet here they were, most assuredly incurring her wrath.

Bijoux knew of only one creature that was a symbol of all that was good in the sea.  She called upon it again, a deep purr permeating her entire form from head to toe.

There was a squeal and two dolphins dove out of the water to greet her.  She couldn’t help but smile.

“Stop them!” she said, pointing in the direction of the sharks.

The dolphins veered off in different directions.  

One mailed mitt stretched to grab a piece of reef.  Beldin, his beard sopping wet, slowly dragged himself up to the surface.  He had been bitten several times by the shark, but to little effect.  The teeth couldn’t penetrate the bands of metal that encased him.  And yet the most innocuous creature had done just that.

In his other hand, Beldin lifted a black sea urchin to the surface.  Some of Beldin’s blood was still on its poisonous tips.  

“It’s a good thing I’m made of sterner stuff,” said Beldin, spitting seawater.  

Cal surfaced again, bleeding from a pattern of bite marks along one side.  He looked in bad shape. 

“Stay there Cal,” said Bijoux.

The big lizard grabbed hold of the side of the boat.

“No, Cal, wait—“

He tugged on the side to get his balance, only to flip the boat over.  Bijoux launched into the air and glided over to a nearby outcropping of coral.

A shark fin sailed straight towards Cal.

“Magicus telum!”

A searing white bolt of magic darted into the water.  The fin submerged again.  

Vlad waved to Bijoux.  He was in another boat with Sebastian and Ilmarė. “We’ve come to rescue you!” he said with a grin.

Vlad let go of the oars for a moment to peer over the side just as a shark fin sailed by.  The oar whipped around sideways and batted Vlad across the back of the head. He tumbled head first into the water.

“Magicus telum!”

Bolt after magical bolt relentlessly sliced into the sharks whenever they appeared.  Finally, they stopped surfacing altogether. Only bits of dolphin remained. 

Ilmarė threw a rope to Vlad, who had difficulty remaining above water in his chainmail.  

“Some rescue,” she said.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 3: Catch of the Day*

Everyone was safely aboard the Shrike, although Calactyte, Vlad, and Beldin were wrapped in towels. The big saurian in particular was in bad shape, having suffered more than one bite from the sharks with only his scaly hide to protect him.  

“Well, he’s a strange kid,” said Kham.  “Looks like Captain Krubach decided to kidnap him out of the blue.  They were headed for Freeport when they were hit by a freak storm.  But that’s not the weird part.”

Ilmarė raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

“Ask him about his mommy,” said Kham. 

Ilmarė crouched down to look Emric in the eye.  “Can you tell us about your mother?”

“Oh yes!” said Emric, his eyes bright.  “Mother can speak all the tongues of the birds and the creatures of the sea.  Her voice can be like a storm crashing on the surf, or gentle like the barest hint of sea spray. Her songs and playing at the harp lure the naiads from their shoals with envy.”

“That’s great kid,” said Kham.  “But what does your mom look like?”

Emric pointed at Cal, who looked pretty miserable.  The big saurian’s head swung towards them when Cal sensed eyes upon him. 

“What?” he said, dripping seawater from his nose holes.

“Like him,” said Emric.  “Mother is very tall, with opaline skin the color of the moon on a deep velvet sea.  Her eyes are quick and bright like emeralds and her hair is dark and lustrous black.”

“What?” asked Cal, saltwater still streaming from his nostrils.

“THAT’S what his mother looks like?” said Ilmarė.  “I’m afraid to ask about the father…”

“I don’t know who my father is,” said Emric wistfully.  “Mother never spoke of him.”

“I don’t think we would want to meet him anyway,” said Kham.

“Th' boy’s mother be goin' t' come lookin' fer th' lad,” said Captain Baldric. “Ye be havin' flouted th' Sea God’s will an' cast yer lot into a dire game. Yarris only knows what fate awaits ye.”

Kham jabbed a thumb in Cal’s direction. “If ‘Mother’ is half as ugly as Scaly, we’re going to have our hands full.”

“Hey!” said Cal, but he was too exhausted to even back up his protestation with a menacing growl.

“Agreed,” said Ilmarė.  “We’ll find a place for him in Freeport.”

“And if we can’t?” asked Sebastian.

“Then maybe there’ll be some uninvited guests to the family reunion,” said Kham, patting the holsters beneath his coat.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 4: Freeport*

The morning sun glowed yellow on the waters of Freeport harbor, turning it into a smooth plate of gold.  But it was a plate that could do with some scraping, washing and polishing.

“I hate this place,” said Ilmarė, wrinkling her nose.

Garbage mired the water: dead fish and rotting offal, broken creates, frayed and tattered cordages, bits of sailcloth, shattered spars and worn planks, pools of oil and sewage—all of it swirled together in the filth.  

“There as many animals here as there are men,” said Bijoux, her ears flattened against her head.

Fat, greasy rats, raucous gulls, and sly crabs fought over the juiciest morsels in the muck and grime. The din of stevedores, longshoremen, fishwives, costermongers, chantey men, hucksters and draft animals assailed their ears.  All of it was punctuated by the cries of the ever-present gulls.

 “We should meet at The Goodly Fisher in Old City,” said Kham.  “I don’t recommend sticking together.”  He looked at his motley assortment of comrades.  “You kind of stick out, even here.”

“You’ve been here before?” asked Vlad. “Where’s Old City?”

Kham pointed to the west.  “Over there is the Merchant District.  You can tell by the clock tower of the Merchant’s Giuld and the roof of the Opera House.”  He pointed east.  “That way is the Eastern District.  Through there is Survytown and the jungles of A’val.  Stay away from there.” He pointed straight ahead.  “That big green dome belongs to the Sea Lord’s Palace.  That’s Old City.  Head straight for it, don’t talk to anybody, and keep the boy safe.”

The crew went to work securing the vessel as stevedores and longshoremen began the daunting task of unloading the cargo holds of the Shrike.

“Where are you going?” asked Bijoux.

“Away from you,” he said, pulling up the flaps of his jacket.  Kham shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the gangplank to Freeport’s docks. 

Sebastian was staring at the ships in the harbor.  He exchanged a glance with Beldin.

“I see it,” the dwarf said.

Vessels from every known nation lay at anchor in the harbor or were moored in the docks.  Amongst them were Canceri merchantmen, Naeraanthi trading cogs, Altherian carracks, Coryani trade galleys, Skohiir longships, a crimson-sailed Garundian slave ship, Magran brigantines, Freeporter caravels and a single, black-hulled dromon.

“See what?” asked Cal.

“Ymandragorians,” said Sebastian.  The black hull of the dromon was unmistakably a ship of Ymandragore.  Inside, demons were chained to its hull, the magical engines that propelled the evil ship across the ocean. 

Sebastian pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head.  “We must be cautious.”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 5a: All Ashore That Are Going Ashore*

The press of the crowd along Freeport’s tiny and ill-paved streets was overwhelming.  It was all they could do to stay together.  

“Dey should be close,” said Broled. 

"There," Neyadis said over her shoulder, "they just turned down that alley."

"I think we better pick up the pace," said Broled as he walked faster towards the alley without attracting too much attention.  

Zainat walked by Amalia.  "Ya know," he said as he passed, "ya might be able to move faster if ya didn't carry that ridiculous sword."

"This flamberge has served Amalia better than any man," Amalia said, shrugging the huge wavy blade off of her shoulders.  

“Have it your way,” said Zainat.  “Me?  I got some business to settle.  I’ll catch ‘em ‘round the other side of the alley.”

“Fine,” said Broled, “but don’t be late.”

Zainat spat and disappeared into the crowd.

Freeport seethed with barely contained violence; few inhabitants were unarmed and all seemed dangerous.  At every turn were grim reminders that they were not on their home ground.  They were foreigners in a strange land, and worse, they were landlubbers.

The group they were trailing was too preoccupied with their own squabbling to even notice Broled grab Emric’s arm.  

“Vell lad, you gave us quite a chase dere,” he said, resting his other hand on the hilt of his sheathed longsword.  “But now ve have you and you are coming vith us.”

He looked over at the cat person, who looked stunned.  “Dis needn’t concern you lot.  Ve and de boy have unfinished business.”

The thugs they hired stepped into the alley behind them as Broled dragged Emric along.  

“Stop dem,” said Broled over his shoulder.  

Amalia walked forward and held the flamberge before her with both hands.  “Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a wicked grin, her tail flicking in agitation behind her, “Amalia intends to.”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 5b: All Ashore That Are Going Ashore*

The crowd parted like water as Zainat Zameri strode out into the center of the alley to face Kham.  The usually raucous masses became silent in breathless anticipation of a duel.

“Well if it ain’t just my lucky day,” said Zainat with his peculiar accent.  “I done thought Cam Val’Abebi went down with the Dauntless.” He eased back his midnight blue watch coat to reveal the mother-of-pearl handle of his flintlock. “There’s a bounty on yer head, boy.”  Two more hired thugs flanked Zainat but stood off to the side. “And I intend to collect on it.”

Kham froze in mid-step.  He pushed his back his jacket to reveal all four of his handgonnes. “It’s pronounced ‘kai-EM’. Have we met?”

“Fortunately fer you, not ‘til today,” said Zainat.  “I hear ya run off from Altheria with the plans tah make a bunch of gonnes.  From whatcher carrying there, I can see it’s true. Ya been abusin’ the privilege of an Altherian, boy. I’m here tah set things straight.  I’m a callin’ you—“

BLAM! BLAM!

Kham’s hands drew and fired his handgonnes so quickly that they were a blur.  Zainat dove to the side, but not fast enough.  One of the shots blew a hole through his coat but was stopped by the chainmail beneath.

“100 gold to switch sides!” shouted Kham, reaching for his next pair of guns.

The two thugs hesitated, looking uncertainly between Zainat and Kham.

Zainat addressed his hired help out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll pay you 200,” he whispered.

“Now damn it all!” shouted Zainat, tossing his hat down onto the road in disgust.  “I try to have a decent duel with ya, man to man, and ya had to go an’ be a coward about it.” In a flash, Zainat’s pistol was out and aimed at Kham’s head.  “As fer you,” he said, “if ya wanna fight like a coward, then ya can run like one too!”

An unreasoning fear overcame Kham that chilled him to the bone.  It was like the feelings he had when he gripped Soulripper: deep, primal, unreasoning.  And it was also impossible to ignore.  Against his will, Kham turned and ran off down the alley in the direction of his comrades.

Zainat picked up his hat.  “Used tah be a time when a man could duel with honor,” he said with a sneer. Zainat screwed his hat onto his head.  “If that’s their excuse fer a vanguard, Broled’s got the boy by now.  Another time then, Cam.”

A strange mist welled up from the ground at his feet.  Zainat turned and disappeared into the fog, whistling as he went.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 5c: All Ashore That Are Going Ashore*

“Stop him!” shouted Vlad.

Bijoux crouched low to face off against a thug as two more stepped up against Vlad and Beldin.  

“Hold them off,” said Sebastian, spreading his palms wide toward the thugs. "Fuco aspergo!"  

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hands, washing over the thugs.  Many fell to the ground, clutching their eyes and screaming.  Then they were silent.

“Wow,” said Bijoux.

“Emric’s getting away!” said Vlad, blocking another thug’s scimitar.  “Cal?”

Calactyte roared.  “MOMMA’S COMING!”

The big lizard slammed through the thugs that were still standing, batting them aside like reeds in a field.  

Then a black-skinned, white-horned woman stepped into his path.  “Amalia loves a challenge,” she shouted as her huge flamberge sheared towards Cal.

Cal twisted his axe and deflected it, but it only served to guide the blow into his thigh instead of his shoulder.  With a howl, he swung his axe again straight for her head—but Amalia blocked the attack with her two-handed sword.  For a moment, they were locked in the struggle, evenly matched.  

Amalia’s eyes were glowing with an infernal rage, the likes of which the big lizard had never seen before.  She was smaller than Cal, not more than six feet tall at most, but her strength equaled his. 

She shoved Cal off and cut a wide arc in front of her, forcing the saurian to take a step back. Then she pressed her advantage. With each attack, she shouted “HA!” 

Cal took a clumsy swing at her head.  She ducked, and the axe hewed a chunk of stone from the wall.

“HA!”

Amalia’s flamberge rent a wound when his arms were preoccupied with his axe. There was a flash of blinding pain that zig-zagged its way down Cal’s chest.  The ss’ressen fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

Amalia backed away as Cal’s companions advanced.  “Big dumb lizard is no match for Amalia!” she shouted.  Then she turned and ran off into the crowd.

Kham sprinted around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of Cal.  He was out of breath.

“There is a scary guy with a flintlock…over there,” he said, hands on his knees.  “We better…oh.”  The expanding pool of blood touched his foot.

Bijoux leaned down and put both of her claws on the lizard’s chest.  She purred, and a golden glow engulfed Calactyte’s prone form.  The wounds closed, but they were still jagged and red.

“He’ll survive,” said Ilmarė. “But we lost the boy.”

Kham shook his head to clear the cobwebs.  “Maybe we should have stayed together. I don’t know what came over me…”

“Magic,” said Vlad.  “I’ve experienced it before.”

Kham thrust his hand in his pockets, trying to compose himself.  “Okay then.  We need to figure out a way to get Emric back.”

“He’s not even Cassicus,” said Ilmarė.  “I say let them keep him.”

“He is a child in need,” said Sebastian.  “I will not leave Emric to the vagaries of fate when Ymandragorians are about.”

“And he’s a human child,” said Beldin. “So it is my duty to return him safe.”

Cal struggled to his feet.  “He thinks…I look like…his mother,” he said, as if that were reason enough.

“So we regroup, and then what?” said Ilmarė.  “We don’t know who those people were or where they’ve taken him.”

 “I know how we can find out,” said Kham, pointing at one of the thugs lying in the street.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 6: The Tempest and the Tumult*

The streets of Freeport were loud, smelly and crowded. Beggars and harlots plied their trade at all hours and without shame. Players and jugglers busked at every corner not given over to an impromptu game of knucklebones or a bout of serious drinking and social commentary by off-duty sailors.  Hucksters purveyed all manner of snacks, gewgaws, gimcracks, and home remedies, wheeling their pushcarts through the throngs or vending their wares from boxes slung around their necks.  

“Who is this Captain Blax?” asked Vlad.  

“Someone important in Freeport,” said Kham.  “Important enough that she would be very put out if the boy was the successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

“Why?” asked Sebastian.

“Because, if it’s true that Emric is of the val’Ossan line, his ascension to the throne would unite Freeport and Milandir,” said Kham.  

Raised voices, flying fists, and blood seemed to be the acceptable course of business in Freeport.  Most alleys featured an unconscious form. Whether they were passed-out drunks or victims of illicit commerce was unclear.

“What about the people we left in the alley?” asked Bijoux as she stepped around a body.

“Oh, don’t worry about them. Freeport will take care of its own,” said Kham with a smirk. 

The streets were uneven and badly paved.  Chamber pots were indiscriminately emptied from upper windows.  Sebastian sidestepped the contents of something foul as it landed with a splash next to him.

“I see him!” shouted Ilmarė, pointing at some commotion ahead in the crowd.  There was a lot of shouting and fist-waving up ahead.

Six rough-looking men clad in quilt doublets and bearing cudgels had cornered a trio of well-dressed young boys.  One of them looked familiar.

“Emric!” said Vlad.  

It looked as though Emric had escaped his captors, though he faced a new threat.  He had changed his clothes as well.  He wore a faded rust-colored doublet.  

“Alright, out of the way boys,” said Kham, pushing back his overcoat to reveal the four holstered handgonnes.  He stepped through the crowd of men and grabbed Emric. “This little fellow owes me money.”

“This is none of your business,” said one of the men.  “These little bastards need to be shown some respect.”

Behind them, Sebastian pointed at an ugly woman dumping her chamber pot out a window.  Much to her surprise, the chamber pot floated out of her grasp.

“Don’t worry,” said Kham, “I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“I don’t think you understand,“ said the thug, thumping his club into an open palm. “If you don’t get out of the way, you’re going to get taught a lesson too.”

Then the chamber pot splattered its contents all over the man’s head.  He sputtered in rage, swung his club around blindly, and then slipped and fell in the muck.

“I think we’ve all learned a lesson here,” said Sebastian.  Vlad, Beldin, and Calactyte stepped up behind him, weapons drawn.

The thugs scattered. Kham kept a tight grip on Emric.

“You alright kid?” he asked.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy attempted to wriggle out of his grasp.  “I don’t owe you any money!  I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

“Something’s wrong,” said Ilmarė.  

Sebastian crouched down to look the boy in the eye.  “What did they do to you, Emric?”

“Emric?” the boy responded indignantly.  “My name’s Camring.  Let me go!”

“Cassicus?” said Kham.  He was starting to sound a bit desperate.  “Did he say Cassicus?”

Sebastian rose to his feet. “I fear this is neither Emric nor Cassicus.” 

“So help me Osalian, one of these children are going to be reunited with his family today,” said Ilmarė.  She leaned closer to Camring’s face.  “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any parents,” said Camring, sulking.  “But if you hurt me you’ll be in big trouble!  My Uncle Thralen will teach you a lesson!”

Vlad blinked. “Thralen?  Thralen Vodric val’Ossan?”

“That’s him.”

“Take us to your uncle,” said Vlad.  

“And maybe we won’t bring up this business with your friends today,” said Kham with a wink.

For the first time, Camring looked concerned.  Then he led Kham by the hand down the street towards the Merchant District.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 7a: Dancing Along the Yardarm*

Walking down Wave street, it was immediately apparent that they were far removed from the squalor and desperation that characterized most of Freeport.  The impetus of that removal was most certainly wealth: the greed and avarice that drove Freeport was manifest in luxury and ostentatious display.  

“So this is how the other half lives,” said Kham.

The eyes of numerous private guards arrayed in tailored livery watched them carefully.  Camring moved ahead of Kham with a confidence that belied his earlier scramble amid the grime and filth of the Docks.  

“Hello Camring, brought some friends with you I see,” said one of them.

“Strays, you mean,” said Camring with a grin.  “And they just won’t stop following me.”

He led them through the Plaza di Oro, with its spending fountain and statue of Larissa.  

Kham stopped to face the fountain.  “The Fountain of Fortune.  I’ve heard of it but never saw it before.” He fished a coin out of his pouch and flicked it into the water.  

“Why would you waste perfectly good gold like that?” asked Beldin. 

“For luck,” said Vlad.  

“Stupid human custom,” said Ilmarė. 

They moved through the smaller Plaza di Plata, home of the Guilt Club, to a fine stone, wood, and brick manse built in the Milandisian style.  It had a high-pitched, blue slate roof, white-washed exterior walls, and tall, narrow windows.  The windows had stout wooden shutters painted with blue trailing flowers.  The recessed front door was reminiscent of a barbican.

“Looks like a castle to me,” said Beldin.  

Three large, thick-necked Milandisians in half-plate armor and bearing halberds stood before an impressive yellowwood door.  They glared at them as they passed.

Beyond the door was a high-ceilinged hall with a floor of hand-painted ceramic tiles.  Hanging from the ceiling on a thick brass chain was a large, yellow glass globe.  The light from the globe suffused the chamber in a rich, golden glow.  

Brilliantly colored and vibrant tapestries depicted galleys and coiling sea serpents along the walls.  Brass dolphin sconces held citrus-scented candles between the tapestries.  In the center of the room was a tiled pattern in the shape of a great compass rose.

A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair stood at the center of the room.  His resemblance to Camring and Emric was unmistakable.  He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt.  The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery.  Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet.  Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.

“Nephew,” Thralen said in a voice accustomed to obedience, “introduce me to your friends.”

Vlad stepped forward and inclined his head slightly.  “I am Vlad Martell, in the service of the Milandisian government.  I was sent on a mission that involves your house. These are my companions at arms.”

“A pleasure,” said Thralen, returning the bow.  “I am Thralen val’Ossan.  Thank you for returning Camring safely.” His features narrowed in irritation.  “He has a habit of…wandering off. Come, let us speak in my study.”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 7b: Dancing Along the Yardarm*

Thralen led them to a room set with three tall narrow windows of translucent alabaster.  The windows bathed the room with a soft golden light.

Thralen ensconced himself behind a large, comfortably padded leather chair.  As they made themselves comfortable, Camring unceremoniously swept a pile of ledgers and scrolls off a shelf.  With a rather dejected sigh, he hopped onto the shelf.

A pretty young Milandisian maidservant brought in a platter filled with ceramic cups, a dragon-shaped clay pitcher of wine, a bowl of pickled olives, dates and figs, a small jar of spiced fish paste, and several loaves of sweet white bread.

“Please,” said Thralen, “I will play the proper host.  Break bread with me and be welcome in my home.  You are my guests.  Tell me of this mission and how you came to return my nephew to me.”

Calactyte took the bowl of pickled olives and downed the entire contents in one gulp.  Ilmarė took one slice of bread from the tray.

Vlad leaned forward, deadly serious. “There are rumors that your House has been compromised. Someone is readily supplying pirates with details pertaining the movements of the Milandisian naval patrols.  They suspect your security has been breached.”

The maid, who was turning to pour Vlad a cup of wine, nearly spilled it into his lap.  Thralen’s eyebrows shot up.

“A spy?  In my house?  While I appreciate your concern, I trust all my servants implicitly.  If there was a spy here, I would know it.”

The maidservant excused herself to clean up the mess.

“Way to keep the mission secret,” said Ilmarė. 

Kham grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swig.  “On a more immediate note…does Camring have a twin?”

“Pardon?” 

“A twin.  We picked up a child floating amongst the debris of the Black Egret just yesterday who is a spitting image of Camring.  His name was Emric.  Ring any bells?”

Thrlaen steepled his fingers.  “Intriguing.  I wonder if perhaps he is not some distant relation.  The val’Ossan’s have been sailing the Pale Sea for centuries.  Hundreds, if not thousands of illegitimate val’Ossan progeny have been cast upon the tides to settle where they may. Certainly, one bearing a resemblance to Camring would be rare, but it is not impossible.”

“He doesn’t just bear a resemblance,” said Ilmarė in irritation.  “He’s a twin, down to the mole on his cheek.”

“A twin is impossible,” said Thralen.  “Camring’s father, my brother Carius, was quite admired by the ladies, but he had eyes only for Tivatia.”

“Who is this Tivatia?” asked Bijoux.

“Tivatia Ossan-Drac was a scion of House Drac, descended from the Great Corsair Drac. She was also a devoted servant and priestess of Yarris.”

“Duty between a god and a mortal,” said Ilmarė.  “Difficult choice.”

Thralen nodded.  “She was ever torn between her duty to the Drac name and her duty to her religion.  Plagued by sadness, the love of her husband and child could not sustain her.  She took ill and died while Camring was still a babe.”

A chill wind whipped through the room, despite the fact that no windows were open.

“I know of Carius,” said Vlad. “He was active in Milandir and died at the Battle of Jerrold’s Bridge.”

It became so cold in the room that everyone’s breath came out in misty wisps. 

“Unseasonable weather,” said Bijoux.

“Ah yes,” said Thralen, visibly disturbed.  “The ceramic tile that covers the floors of the house does not always distribute the heat correctly.”

Beldin snorted.  “The floor’s made of burnished yellowwood,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth to Sebastian.  “Tile doesn’t do that.”

Kham cleared his throat.  “About that other boy…”

“Emric, you say?  I have only recently learned that Captain Blax seeks to stop Camring’s ascension to the throne of the Sea Lord.  If the boy is a mirror image of Camring, it must be a case of mistaken identity.  They kidnapped the wrong child.”

“Good,” said Ilmarė, “so we can all go home then.”

Thralen frowned.  “I have never met Captain Blax personally, but she has a reputation as a ruthless and fearsome pirate. If she truly has the boy, I fear for his safety.  When she discovers that Emric is not Camring…”

“…he will become a Ymandragorian slave,” finished Sebastian.

“But enough of this.  You are in no shape to conduct any rescues today.  Come, dine with me and rest here.  If you’ll excuse me, I must get dressed for dinner.  My servants will show you to your quarters.”  And with that, Thralen left the room.

The maidservant returned.  Beldin handed her a small pouch.  

“Do you know how to cook this?” he asked.

The maid peered into the bag and nodded. Cal gulped down an entire loaf of bread.

“Good,” said Beldin. “I’ll eat it however you prepare it.”

“Dinner?” asked the ss’ressen.

“Yes, it looks like we’ll be staying for dinner.  Try not to eat all of it,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 7c: Dancing Along the Yardarm*

Dinner was a sumptuous affair, though Thralen decried it as a simple meal, not quite up to the standards of the household. 

They all dug into the first course.  Cal continued to gulp down marinated green and black olives, which he apparently had never tasted before until stepping foot in the val’Ossan home.  

The second course caused their eyes to light up.  Bijoux enjoyed the cold smoked salmon.  Ilmarė tasted the six-grain bread with honey butter.  Everyone else ate the spinach salad and hard-boiled eggs. Except for Beldin.

Five bight yellow strips were placed before the dwarf on a small plate.  He took a fork and speared one.

Cal sniffed at him from across the table.  “Fish?”

“No,” said Beldin.  “Sea urchin.”

“What are you doing?” asked Vlad as he watched the dwarf savor the first bite.  “That looks like little yellow tongues.”

“Getting revenge,” he replied with a satisfied smile.  The taste was sweet and fresh—almost floral, with the aroma of rose petals. 

The third course brought more smoked herring for Bijoux, traditional Skohiir rye flatbread for Ilmarė, and sausages cooked in ale for everyone else.  Cal sampled everything, although he was a bit more restrained.  Kham mostly just drank wine.

“My agents are out searching for Emric now,” said Thralen.  “I am hopeful to have some news before the morning as to where they might be keeping him.  We must get to him before Captain Blax discovers he is not Camring.”

“Agreed,” said Vlad.  

After dinner they adjourned to a tastefully decorated salon with windows overlooking the house gardens and the jungles of A’val beyond. Thralen listened in awe to Kham’s exploits during the Saturnalia ex Mille Basiare.  He in turn regaled them all with his own youthful exploits and stories featuring some of his famous and infamous ancestors.  Eventually, Thralen excused himself and went to bed.

Sebastian ducked back into Thralen’s office.  There was a book within that he found interesting. 

The office had a distinct nautical theme.  The walls were hung with navigational charts, signaling pennants, and wooden carvings of sea animals.  Several comfortable chairs were drawn up before a large and impressive oak desk.  The desk was littered with ledges, manifests, quills, an ink pot and small box of sand, a worn and salt-stained leather-bound routier, a traverse board with dividers, a tarnished brass astrolabe, a heavy threaded lead weight, and the tome Sebastian sought. It was titled, “Insulae di Mare-Pallidus.”

With the book under his arm, Sebastian retired to bed. And yet, Emric was always on his mind.

A chill wind swept through his room.  Sebastian paused to look out at the dark jungle beyond.  

“Where is your mother, I wonder?” he asked.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 8: Sleeping With the Fishes*

Something woke Vlad out of a dead sleep.  He wasn’t sure why. 

Vlad was in a comfortable bed, in a warm and secure place rather than aboard a rocking and incessantly noisy ship. It was definitely an improvement.

He patted his stomach.  The rich food was certainly a possibility.

Vlad thought he heard something creak downstairs.  Dressed only in his nightshirt, he threw off the covers and quietly unsheathed his longsword from its scabbard on a dresser.

The foyer at the bottom of the stairs was strangely silent. He could hear the guards outside on their watch. 

Vlad padded out into the hallway and crept down the steps. There was intermittent flashes of the faintest glow coming from underneath the door of Thralen’s study.

Vlad stood by the door and kept his longsword raised.

The door opened.  Hair unbound and clad in the thinnest of nightdresses, the pretty maidservant from earlier stepped out into the hallway.

Val took a deep breath and lowered his blade.  The maid hopped backwards with a squeal.

“You scared me!” she said.  “What were you doing there?”

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing,” said Vlad. 

The maid blushed.  “Oh, this is very awkward.”

Vlad leaned on his longsword, point down.  “I’ve got time,” he said.

“You see, Master Thralen demands certain…favors…in return for his patronage.”  

“And he demands those favors,” he nodded towards the study, “in there?”

“Yes,” the maidservant said, lashes lowered. 

“And where is Thralen now?”

“He did not show this evening,” the maid said.  She stroked the inside of her other arm. “Sometimes he is too tired.”

“Uh huh,” said Vlad.  “I think it’s time you went back to your room.  I’ll escort you.”

Vlad took her by the elbow and steered her to the hallway.  They stopped at a door.

She opened it.  For a servant’s quarters her room was spacious.  

The maidservant turned to face Vlad, her nose inches from his.  “My name is Cunegunda, by the way.”

“That’s great,” said Vlad.  “Now—“

“Are you familiar with the Larissian sacraments?” Cunegunda lifted one leg slightly so that her naked thigh rubbed against the doorframe. “This whole incident could be quite embarrassing for my Master.  I would be willing to perform a…service in exchange for your silence.”

Vlad pulled her roughly by the arm to him.  “No. Thanks,” he said to her face. Then Vlad shoved Cunegunda back into her room and onto her bed.

The maidservant screamed at the top of her lungs and tore at her bodice as she fell.  “HELP!  I’m being attacked!”

Vlad looked around in surprise.  “What?”

Two guards jogged up to him with halberds.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” said Vlad.  “I was—she just—I caught her—“

“Doing what?” asked one of the guards, pointing his halberd’s blade at Vlad’s neck.

“He attacked me!” shouted Cunegunda, tears streaking her face.  “He thought that because I was another Milandisian he could have his way with me!”

Thralen and just about everyone else in the house arrived in various states of undress.

“What?!” shouted Vlad.  “I didn’t touch her!”

Some guards consulted with Cunegunda and closed the door so that Vlad could no longer hear their conversation. Ilmarė, her hair silver and purple-streaked hair up in a bun, stepped forward.  “Let me talk to him.”

Thralen nodded and halberds were lowered.

“What were you doing, Vlad?”

“I found Cunegunda downstairs in Thralen’s study,” said Vlad.  “She’s a Censuri spy.”

“And why exactly were you walking around in your nightshirt with a sword?” asked Thralen.

“I uh…” Vlad realized the predicament he was in.  “I decided to take a walk.”

“I see.”

“Search her!” Vlad said. “She must have something on her…”

Thralen’s brow was furrowed in dismay.  “The guards found nothing.  Although there is a book missing from my study.”

Sebastian cleared his throat.  “I can explain that,” he said.  The book was in his hands.  He handed it over to Thralen.  “I was merely borrowing it for some nighttime reading.  I don’t sleep much.”

Thralen looked alternately confused and disturbed.  He turned back to Vlad. “Vlad, I’m very disappointed with you.”

“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding,” said Ilmarė.  “I expect this of other people,” she looked at Kham, who looked bleary-eyed and tired.  Kham didn’t even notice. “But not Vlad.”

“That may be.  Still…” Thralen looked around. “Where’s Camring?”

A guard huffed up to Thralen.  “Gone.  His window is open and his street clothes are missing.”

Thralen’s expression turned grim.  He turned to Vlad.  “I have an idea of how we can solve both of our problems.”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 9a: A Vengeful Storm*

Vlad and Ulthard Rolter, the val’Ossan guard sergeant, sat hunched in sight of a large warehouse.  

They could hear the incessant noise of The Broken Mug tavern a scant 100 yards from their vantage point.  It sounded like another customer had offended the owner and partaken of her particular brand of watery justice.  Except for the ongoing war between rats and cats, their section of The Docks was quiet. A cold mist had rolled in off the harbor along with the familiar reek of fish and salt water.  

“This is it,” said Ulthard.  Seven val’Ossan guards armed with halberds crouched behind them.  “Our intelligence indicates that they’re keeping them here.”

The warehouse was a large building standing alone on the border between The Docks and Scurvytown.  The windows on the southern wall glowed with the barest hint of light. A lone sentry was perched on a stool next to a small door in front of the warehouse, a crossbow cradled in his arms.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” said Vlad.  He looked around.  “Wait. Where’s Kham?”

A figure in an overcoat darted from crate to crate, zigzagging its way in the mist and darkness towards the sentry.  The guard straightened up and lifted his crossbow, peering into the darkness.

“He’s been spotted,” said Ilmarė.  

“He’ll give us away!” said Vlad.

“Not if I can help it,” said Ilmarė.  She pointed at the guard and whispered, “Îdh.”

The guard collapsed into unconsciousness.  

Vlad pointed at Ulthard.  “Grab that guard and tie him up,” he whispered.

Kham padded past the snoring guard and pulled a dagger from the many pockets in his coat.  He tapped it on the ground once and a small rod extended from its base.  It contained a series of lock picks.  Kham extended two of them and inserted the hilt of the dagger into the door’s lock.  He twisted the hilt once, twice and was rewarded with a click.

“Just like the old days,” said Kham with a grin.  The dagger disappeared into the folds of his coat as he slowly creaked the door open. The he disappeared inside.

“He’s going to get us all killed,” said Ilmarė.

Something small and black crawled out of the folds of Sebastian’s cloak.  A bat flittered off towards the warehouse and through one of the 20-foot high windows.

“What was that?” asked Bijoux.

“My familiar, Dracuul,” said Sebastian matter-of-factly.

A few seconds later the bat returned.  Dracuul landed on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Bijoux leaned forward as Dracuul squeaked at her.  “He says there are several people and boxes in there.”

“You got all that from a few squeaks?” asked Ilmarė.

“I would ask him more,” said Bijoux.  Her voice lowered to a whisper.  “But he’s not very smart.”

Dracuul disappeared again into the folds of Sebastian’s cloak.  “I say we set the warehouse on fire,” he said. “Then they can come to us.  Going through the front door is suicide.”

“Set it on fire with what?” asked Vlad.

“The men can get you torches, and maybe some oil.  But we don’t have much,” said Ulthard.

“You can’t set the walls on fire,” said Beldin.  “They’re made of mortared stone and brick.”

“The roof will burn,” said Bijoux.  “I’ll go.”

Everyone looked to Vlad.  

“Let’s do it,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 9b: A Vengeful Storm*

Locksan Dru’ell sat on a crate along with the other thugs.  She was surrounded by piles of pallets that had been converted into makeshift chairs and tables.  Two lamps, reeking of burning fish oil, illuminated the massive warehouse.

“I’m not sure what tha hell is going on,” said Zainat, feet propped up on a crate. His hat was pulled low over his head. “But we better get paid twice.  We brought back that boy two times over.”

“You will be paid handsomely,” said Locksan.  “I don’t fully understand myself, but the val’Ossans have surely gotten the hint.”

“That kids should not be left alone in Freeport?” asked Neyadis.

“Dat Captain Blax vill not tolerate a Milandisian heir to the Sea Lord throne,” said Broled. 

Zainat lifted his hat with one thumb.  “By the way, we’ve got ourselves an intruder.” 

“What?” shouted Amalia, grabbing her flamberge.

Someone darted from the door to the office to the front door next to the larger double doors to the warehouse. 

“Cam,” said Zainat, easing his pistol out of its holster.  “Running again so soon?  We ain’t had our little chat yet.”

WHAM!

The double doors shuttered.  An axe blade rent a crack through one of the doors.

WHAM!

“Everyone to their weapons!” shouted Locksan, pointing to different thugs.  “Crossbows up!  You shoot the first thing that comes through those doors!”

WHAM!

Amalia gripped her flamberge with both hands.  Broled had his longsword out.  Neyadis was poring over a scroll. Zainat was at least sitting upright.

WHAM! 

The double doors fell forward, revealing the three forms of a dwarf, a human, and a ss’ressen in the fog.  Seven halberdiers were lined up behind them.

“And here I thought this was gonna be easy,” said Zainat.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 9c: A Vengeful Storm*

Calactyte pointed at Amalia.  “You!” he said.  With a roar, he charged towards the dark-kin.

Amalia grinned.  “Yes, come to Amalia!”

Great axe met flamberge with a terrific CLANG! as thugs and guards embroiled in all out war.  Beldin shouldered some crates into nearby thugs and kept on going, swinging his axe low at Locksan’s legs.

A guard dropped his halberd as a thug slashed at his arms.  He fumbled to draw his sword…

Locksan skipped backwards.  She had a buckler in one hand and a gladius in the other.  “You’ll have to do better than that, dwarf!”

Ilmarė’s voice rang out true and clear through the chaos. “_Et eärello,_” she sang of the great sea.

A thug screamed as a halberd pierced his side.  He went down in a bloody heap.

Locksan struck at Beldin’s head, but he blocked it with the flat of his axe.

A crossbow bolt clanged off of Vlad’s shield.

“_Onara utúlien_,” sang Ilmarė. Out of Onara’s oceans they came.

Vlad and Broled circled each other.  Each had a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other.  Broled feinted and then lunged, but Vlad twisted away and batted the blade aside with his shield.

“This is madness!” said Sebatian. 

Up on the roof, Bijoux lowered a rope down to Kham.  Behind her, the roof continued to smolder. 

“Where are ya Cam?” said Zainat, scanning the melee.  “I know yer out there ya coward.  Come out and fight me like ah man!”

Kham struggled up onto the roof.  “How are the fires coming?” he asked, out of breath.

“Slowly,” said Bijoux.  “I do not think this plan will work.” The cold mist and the water-soaked warehouse all worked against the sputtering flames.

“Me either,” said Kham.  He scrambled across the roof. 

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To settle a score,” said Kham over his shoulder.  Then he disappeared over the other side of the roof.

Bijoux jumped into space and glided around to one of the high windows.  She purred again, calling to the creatures of the docks as she watched the conflict rage below her.

“_Sinome maruvan,_” sang Ilmarė. They would survive the battle.

Cal blocked Amalia’s sword with the flat of his axe and then retaliated with his tail, slapping her on the thigh. 

“Nice trick,” said Amalia.  “Amalia knows one better. HA!”

With a mighty blow, she slashed sideways across Cal’s chest.  He spun around like a top and fell to the ground in a pile of boxes.

“_Ar hildinyar tenn' ambar-metta,_” sang Ilmarė. As would all of the val’Ossan line, until the end of the world.

Neydais finished reading her scroll: “Incendiaries globus!”

Then the world became a bright ball of red and yellow flames.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 9d: A Vengeful Storm*

The explosion left thug and guard alike stunned.  Those crates and boxes that hadn't been hurled from the center of the blast burned and smoldered.  Calactyte was on the warehouse floor, unconscious from a vicious gash in his abdomen.  Vlad and Beldin were separated from their opponents. They struggled to their feet.

The gout of flames blew through the door and out of the warehouse, forcing Ilmarė and Sebastian to dive for cover.  

Two of the guards were down.  Ilmarė pointed at Neyadis, who began chanting again.  "Stop her before she casts again!" she shouted.

Vlad barreled towards her.  If she got off another fireball…

Neyadis raised one hand and pointed.  The same pea-sized ball of flames would balloon into a massive explosion.  It would most certainly incinerate his comrades if he didn't do something fast.

"Incendiaries—"

Her chant ended in a gurgle as she slid off Vlad's longsword. His victory was short-lived; Amalia's blade whistled towards his head.

Vlad brought his shield up just in time, but the blow wrenched it out of his grasp. 

There was a terrible explosion from the far corners of the warehouse.  A sewer grate blasted upwards with a gout of water and sewage.  A large, fish-man stepped out of the muck along with several web-eared creatures armed with spears.  

From the other corner, a massive humanoid with a large, fish-like head smashed its way through a wall of the warehouse.  It was over ten feet tall with gray-black skin encrusted with spiky protrusions, barnacles and scaly limpets.  

The thugs turned to engage the fish men, but they were clearly outnumbered.

"Reinforcements?" Sebastian said to Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shook her head as she knocked another arrow.  "No, I think those are from…‘Mommy'."


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 9e: A Vengeful Storm*

Vlad used the momentary distraction to roll out of Amalia’s range.  When he rose, he was face-to-face with Broled. Their swords crashed into each other again.

Beldin wrenched his axe out of the bleeding corpse that was once Locksan.  He turned, only to be batted backwards by the mighty swing of Amalia’s flamberge.

Unseen by all, a huge rat crawled its way out of the open sewer grate.  It sat up on its hind legs and squeaked up at Bijoux.

“The door!” she said, pointing at the door to an enclosed office.  “Break it down!”

The rat, easily the size of a man, darted between combatants and crates as it made its way to the door.

Zainat backed himself into a corner, trying to watch everyone at once.  He hadn’t fired a shot.

“Come on out, Cam.  I got a bullet with yer name on it.”

“It’s pronounced kai-EM!” shouted Kham as he hung over the window, twenty feet up, both handgonnes aimed at Zainat.  

BLAM! BLAM!

Zainat whirled but not in time.  Two bullet holes pierced his jacket.  He lay flat on his back, staring upwards at Kham.

“I jest got one word fer ya,” Zainat spat blood.  “Jump.”

Against every measure of common sense and instinct, Kham did as he was told.  He threw himself out of the window…and was pulled taut as the rope suspended him in the air.  Kham thanked Althares that he thought to tie himself before diving through the window.

The giant rat began gnawing its way through the door hinges to the office.

“Lahk shootin’ fish inna barrel,” said Zainat as he took aim with his black flintlock.

Then one of the fish giants smashed him to a pulp.

The dire rat threw its weight against the door and it fell inwards.  Bijoux glided down into the doorway.

Camring and Emric were tied up and gagged, back to back, on a stool.

Bijoux hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. Ilmarė ran in behind her.  

“Grab one of them!” she said.  The Elorii hoisted one of the boys over her shoulder, she couldn’t tell which, and ran out of the warehouse.

Bijoux grabbed the remaining boy and followed suit.

Inside the warehouse, Beldin blocked a strike from Broled.  

“Beldin!” shouted Vlad, dragging the unconscious and bloody body of Cal behind him.  “We are leaving!”

Beldin took a step backwards.  Broled began to pursue, but then the dwarf pointed behind him. “You’ve got bigger problems,” he said.

Broled turned just in time to face down the rampaging fish giant. 

“Oh VHIT,” were the last words he got out before he died.


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 10: Ebb Tide*

It was a strange sight, to see Emric and Camring side by side.  Both appeared to be no worse for their harrowing adventures.  But they were identical, down to the mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Yarris’ mercy,” said Thralen.  “I didn’t believe it true.  But seeing them both here before me, it is difficult to pick one from the other.  Aye, but what to do about it…”

The icy stillness returned.  A ghostly apparition began to take form between the two boys.

It was a form without true substance: a phantom in the shape of a pale and lovely woman worn by ceaseless worry and regret.  She lay a hand on both Emric and Camring’s shoulders.  

“So let it end,” she said.

 “Tivatia.” Bijoux stepped forward. “I have returned your child, as you asked.”

A bright, blinding light coalesced around the apparition and the two boys.  It was unbearably intense, such that no one could bear to look at it.  Waves of magic washed outward in a spray of rainbow colors.

Then the light faded.  The silence was broken by Thralen’s shout of “What is this!”

Where two boys once stood, only one remained.  Camring had transformed into a bestially monstrous form.  It was six-feet tall, with slick blue-black skin stretched tautly over knotty cords of muscle, long arms ending in viciously taloned and webbed claws, a bullet-like head with no discernable neck, and a face more fish than human.  

Uttering a guttural, inarticulate moan, it turned and lunged from the room, crashing through the windows to the garden below.

Vlad moved to pursue.  Bijoux put a hand out.  “Let him go.  Things are now as they should be,” she said.

Tivatia remained.  She turned to Bijoux.  “You have released me from my bonds and laid to rest a most dreadful enchantment. The foul witcheries of Sycorax have been dispelled.  My son,” she gazed fondly at Emric, “and you are my son, is restored to his family.”

She began to fade.  “My dearest child,” she said to Emric, “I regret that I cannot spend more time here with you.  The veil of Beltine is parting and I must yet face the Judgment of Nier.  Fare thee well, my son.  Know that I loved you beyond life itself.”

Tivatia turned back towards Bijoux.  “And you who have secured for my son his true birthright, I bless.  But fear you still must the wrath of Sycorax.”

Emric was visibly shaken.  Thralen put his hands on Emric’s shoulders.  “So you are my true nephew, while the other was some witch’s get.” He crushed the boy to his chest.  “Be welcome, son of Tivatia and Carius.  Welcome home, Emric Drac val’Ossan.”

“What will become of Camring?” Emric whispered.

“I don’t know, son,” said Thralen.  “I don’t know.”


----------



## talien

*Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 11: Fair Winds and Following Seas*

Vlad unfolded the newspaper in Thralen’s dining room.  It read, “Foreign Heroes Blacken Blax’s Eye in Warehouse Brawl.”

“The jeers will be audible all the way to Censure,” he said.

“And yet Captain Blax got what she wanted,” said Ilmarė.

“What do you mean?” asked Beldin.

“I’ve decided to take Emric back to Milandir,” said Thralen.  “There, he can be properly educated and tutored amongst other young val’Ossans.  Freeport is no place for children.”

“I agree,” said Sebastian, gloved fingers folded before him.

“Before you go, I would like to give you a gift,” said Thralen.  “You will find pins next to each of your plates.  It is a symbol of favor with the Milandisian branch of House val’Ossan.”

Vlad’s pin was noticeably missing.  The message was clear: they were even.

Kham snorted.  He had Zainat’s pistol and bullets out on the breakfast table.

“What’s so funny?” asked Cal.

“Zainat wasn’t kidding,” he said, still chuckling.  He held up one of the ten bullets between thumb and forefinger.  

The letters: “C”, “A” and “M” were etched into its side.

“So who is this Sycorax*, exactly?” asked Vlad.

Thralen stroked his chin.  “There was once a beautiful maiden in Freeport by that name.  She was a descendant of the great corsair Francisco and a priestess of Yarris.  But Sycorax was young and loved unwisely.”

“Unwisely?”

“Her fickle lover spurned her for another.  Sycorax’s revenge was terrible.  Her vengeance twisted her, such that it is said she was cursed as a horrible sea hag.”

“Oh, that Sycorax,” said Kham.  “The mariners of the Pale Sea make sacrifices to Yarris to keep their vessels away from the shoals of her island.”

“So Sycorax switched the two children at birth,” said Ilmarė.

“What kind of a mother does that?” asked Bijoux.

“The kind you don’t want to meet,” said Kham, nodding towards Calactyte.

The big lizard twitched his tail but didn’t say anything for a moment.  He looked back and forth between Ilmarė and Kham.

“Fine,” said Ilmarė, “but this is the last time.”

When Cal finally sang what he was holding back, he belted it out so loudly that the others jumped. 

“WHO LIVES IN A GROTTO DOWN UNDER THE SEA?” 

*To learn the likely fate of Camring, see the Wikipedia entry for The Tempest: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tempest_(play)


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Introduction*

This is the third soft point of Year 2 of the tournament module, "All That Glitters," written by Jeff Johnston and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Ilmarė Galen (Elf Brd4), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
·	Calactyte (Ss’ressen Bar2), played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
·	Bijoux (Fihali 2/Drd1), played by Melissa Gendron
·	Sebastian Arnyal (Dark-kin Sor 3) played by George Webster
·	Beldin Soulforge (Dwarf Ftr3) played by Joe Lalumia

I was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net 

This was a straightforward treasure hunt, which is rare in Arcanis.  As a result, the session went very quickly.  So quickly, in fact, that I fleshed out the cave part of the adventure on my own.  I also got to use more props: a pirate game called “Morgan’s Revenge” and a pack of 100 fake gold coins worked out nicely.  And a rubber spider.

I moved some of the encounters out of order for two reasons.  For one, there’s no explanation as to how the characters come into possession of the rubbings.  The adventure’s written for new players rather than experienced PCs.  So the beggar king of Freeport made for a nice foil (I used his optional encounter from Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe). Two, no experienced adventurer in his right mind is going to bump into someone on the street and then let the guy “pay them back by apologizing.”  They certainly wouldn’t take a swig of any drink offered from said gentleman off the street.  So I had to set the adventure up differently to get people to take a swig of the tainted drinks, and the only way it even worked is because we actually had drinks in our hands at the gaming table to toast with. 

This adventure ranged from laughably easy (watch Beldin decapitate the main bad guy in one shot!) to meat grinder-hard (watch Calactyte go down…TWICE!).  That said, the party took it all in stride and worked hard for their experience points.  They started working better together as a team: Beldin began protecting Sebastian in melee and Bijoux’s spells saved the party from a trap. Speaking of traps, there were so many traps and encounters in the cave that it was enough to boost just about everyone up one level too (for the sake of the story flow, I didn’t cover all of them here).

The weekend afterwards, Vlad, Quintus, and Kham got together again for a bit of a reunion.  Find out what they were up to in the next story hour chapter.

Oh yeah, I (briefly) got to use my inn set up.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Prologue*

The area of Freeport that Beldin and Sebastian had entered looked particularly seedy.  Citizens were despondent and sad, barely even lifting their heads to see where they were going.  No one would meet their eye.

“Friendly place,” said Beldin, the dwarf.

Good portions of the people present were gnomes, doing little to hide their obvious deformities.  

“Oh I don’t know,” said Sebastian, adjusting his robed with gloved hands.  “I think we blend right in.”

Undir watermen from the far south, Myrantian exiles from their doomed and bleak land, and Pengik tribesmen seeking a better life away from their barren coast all mingled freely. Each people seemed to have claimed a portion of Scurvytown as their own, save the gnomes, who were routinely ousted from even the meanest of dwellings.

“Didn’t Kham tell us to avoid this place?” asked Beldin.

The city guard was particularly absent, though there were signs of criminal activity everywhere: broken heads, beaten bodies, and bloody beggars.

“He did indeed,” said Sebastian, brushing aside a wisp of white hair from his face.  “We are in the Freebooter’s Quarter.  I wanted to see what the Ymandragorians were up to.”

“We were supposed to meet Captain Baldric at The Goodly Fisher…what’s this?” Beldin reached for his axe as a strange man, even for Scurvytown, approached.

Amid the squalor and filth capered a swirling madcap figure: a tall, gangly man in a great cloak of multicolored patches and motley garments trimmed with yesterday’s silks, tattered grimy lace, and moth-eaten rabbit fur.  Turning in mid stride, he pushed his way through the crowd to Beldin and Sebastian.

The figure stopped in front of Beldin.  A broad, perhaps mad, grin beamed out from the shadows of his hood. 

“Easy,” said Sebastian, “he does not appear armed.”

The beggar held a long, slender stick of birch in his right hand.  

“Would you be interested in a game of chance?” the man asked in a lilting voice.

The exact same approach had been used a dozen times on the pair when they tried to cross a street in Scurvytown. Beldin was about to brush the strange man aside when Sebastian put one hand out.  “And what kind of game is this?”

“A game with much for me to lose, and much for you to win,” he said with a cackle.  “And the pot is very high indeed: some rubbings from a stone!”

Beldin’s bushy eyebrows went up.  “Stone, you say?”

“Ah, I see I’ve piqued both your interests.  Come, come, sit, sit,” he pulled up a barrel and pointed at a box and a pile of rope.  “The pot isn’t much, a mere five imperials each.”  In this case the pot was literally a pot, pulled from beneath the barrel and placed on top of it.

“Your game can’t be very popular,” said Sebastian.  “You’re not offering any gold.”

The beggar pulled strips of parchment with words rubbed on them in black chalk. He tossed one into the pot.   “You are correct, and so they lose out.  My game has much higher stakes.”

Beldin and Sebastian tossed five gold coins each into the pot.

“Now then, spin the dreidel if you can.  Or not.  It will determine our fates.”  

Beldin struggled with the top the first few tries, but he eventually snapped it.  The dreidel spun madly about on the surface of the barrel, rolling a sudden stop.

“We all put coins in!” said the beggar.  Only he didn’t put any in.  

Beldin and Sebastian exchanged looks and dropped another gold coin into the pot.  

On Sebastian’s turn the dreidel landed on “TP.” 

“You win!” said the beggar.  He pushed the 14 gold coins and the rubbing towards Sebastian.

“What kind of beggar so willingly gives up his gold?” asked Beldin, staring at the pile before Sebastian.

“A beggar who has more to lose than gold.” Sebastian plucked the rubbing from the pile and held it up in the sunlight.  “How many more of these do you have?”

“Enough,” said the beggar with a twinkle in his eye.

“We’ll play you for all of them,” said the dark-kin.  

“You know, if you keep going on like this I know exactly what is going to happen,” said the beggar.  

Beldin harrumphed as he tossed more coins into the pot.  “What’s that?”

“Someone will be in for a nasty surprise, that’s what.”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder.  “Let’s hope it’s not on us.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 1a: Nikko’s Flophouse*

The basement establishment was typical of that part of the docks.  It was a run-down affair, almost unnoticeable amidst all the other buildings.  If Baldric hadn’t told them about it, they would never have been able to find it.

Inside, it was much the same. They were sorely out of place, but nobody seemed to care—the few other patrons were absorbed in their own alcoholic intake.  

Captain Baldric waved them over to a series of round tables in the back.  Ilmarė sat with them, an expression of mild distaste on her face. 

“Well, we’re in the right place,” said Sebastian to Beldin.

They pulled up stools to join the haggling at the table.

“I know ye’ve heard me talk about Captain Wendron Krubach,” said the grizzled captain, stroking his eye patch.  “But I haven’t told ye th' whole story. Th' Captain tookst more than me eye. He took me treasure.”

“And you want us to take it back?” asked Ilmarė, crossing her arms. 

“Aye. But we’ve got t' find 't first. Krubach buried his booty an' now that th' Black Egret sailed' down, 't’s mine fer th' takin'.”

“So where is it?” asked Beldin.  

“I don’t know,” said Baldric with a sigh.  “Krubach’s mistress had a stone left in th' lass' care, detailin' 'ere th' booty could be found. We…caught up wi' th' lass'.” He looked uncomfortable.  “That’s how I came by this.”

He tossed a single scrap of parchment onto the table.  Ilmarė squinted at it.  

“Captain and his seven officers
Each takes a share and one for the crew
Captain chooses first of nine but
Nothings left when he is through.”

“Does 't mean anythin' t' ye, lass?” asked Baldric.

Ilmarė shook her heard.  “No, I’ve never seen this before.”

“Maybe this will help,” said Sebastian, tossing several tattered pieces of parchment with black chalk marks on them.  They were rubbings from a stone with a variety of letters.

“That’s from th’ stone!” shouted Baldric, pointing at the pieces.  “’ere did ye find these, lad?”

“It was the strangest thing,” said Sebastian. “A beggar gambled them away.”

“A beggar, hmm?” said Ilmarė.  “What kind of beggar?”

“He had a great cloak of many colors and fabrics,” said Beldin.  

Ilmarė’s almond-shaped eyes widened.  “You met Emperor Oswald, the Beggar King of Freeport.  He rarely talks to outsiders except to demand his imperial largess. Oswald must have a good reason for getting these fragments into your hands.”

Sebastian pulled Baldric’s parchment over to look at it. “There’s five words at the bottom: Freeport, Temple of Althares, and Krubach.  So I’d say the Temple would be our first stop.”

“Nay so fast,” said Baldric. “We’ve got t' come t' terms first. What be Krubach’s belongs t' me, so I an' th' crew be havin' starboards t' th' booty.”

Ilmarė crossed her arms.  “I don’t see why we should do this for you.  We stay put in Freeport until we hear from Quintus. Besides, there’s nothing Krubach could have that I want.”

Baldric winked at her.  “Don’t be so quick t' judge, lass. Krubach traveled wi' Garniss th' Sage, a noted diviner an' researcher o' many new an' unique spells. Legend has 't that Garniss hid his notes wi' Krubach’s booty.”

Ilmarė peered at the captain sideways.  “Hmm.  Perhaps we have time for a short diversion.  Fine, Baldric. You get the gems and jewels, we get everything else.”  She looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded.  “The Beggar King gave us a gift. It would be impolite to waste it.”

“Then ye’re in!” said Baldric. “Let us toast. May we find Krubach’s booty an' waste 't all on lasses an' wine!”
The other crewmembers, Sebastian, and Beldin raised their mugs in salute.  Ilmarė had not touched hers. 

“To the treasure!” they shouted.  Then they all took a swig.

 “Where are the others?” asked Beldin.

The elorii’s gaze flickered to the door, but no one came out of it.  “I’m not sure myself.  I told them all to meet us here.”

There was a thump at the table.  Ilmarė sneered down at the greasy hair of an unconscious Baldric.  “Stupid human pirates,” she said.

Then a litany of flesh on wood echoed around them as pirate after pirate fell where they sat, blissfully snoring away.

“That’s some drink,” said Beldin, wiping his lips.  He didn’t seem affected in the slightest.

Ilmarė sniffed her mug.  “That’s no normal drink.  That’s oil of taggitt.”  She unsheathed her elven thinblade. “We’ve been tricked!”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 1b: Nikko’s Flophouse*

“Terribly sorry about that,” said a tall, well-dressed man with narrow features.  “My name’s Japheth.” Three hired thugs fanned out behind him. “You’re new to the city, aren’t you? You may have heard that the city is full of crude, mannerless pirates,” he nodded towards Baldric, asleep in his drink, “but that’s all changing.”

“I prefer pirates to assassins,” said Ilmarė, blade out.  Sebastian and Beldin had their backs to the wall.  “At least when they betray you, it’s with a naked blade instead of a poisoned drink.”

“Ah yes, well, I find it makes things easier,” said Japheth, looking genuinely embarrassed. “Now if you’d be so kind as to give me those little scraps of paper on the table, we can all move on with our lives.”

Sebastian vaulted himself onto the table from the floor. “No,” he said.  Sebastian pointed one palm at his assailants. “Fuco aspergo!”

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hand.  Japheth ducked beneath the cone, but it sizzled past him, engulfing the three thugs.  They slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Japheth’s blades were out instantly.  The thief was crouched low, ready to spring at Sebastian, when he saw Beldin’s axe.

“Oh sh—“ was all he got out as the blade swept upwards, separating Japheth’s head from his body.  There was a gout of blood, and then silence.

Ilmarė resheathed her blade.  “Where is he?”

“Who?” asked Sebastian, trying not to stare at the headless corpse that lay beneath the table.  

“The innkeeper.  Someone poisoned these drinks, and I didn’t see Japheth until just now.  That means he had an…” she peered over the bar.  “…accomplice.  Get up.”

A brown-haired, portly man crept out from behind the bar.  “P-please don’t hurt me!” he whispered.

“Who are you,” said Sebastian, “and why did you poison our drinks?”

“I don’t know anything!” said the bartender.  

Beldin picked up Japheth’s head, an expression of surprise still etched in his face.  “Really? Perhaps you’d like to talk to your friend about it.”

The man broke out in a sweat.  “My name’s Nikko, but I know nothing, I swear!  I was hired by Japheth to drug you.”  Nikko licked his lips.  “He said I could have your purses.  That’s all.” He looked over at the headless body of Japheth.  “Nobody was supposed to get hurt!”

Ilmarė shook Baldric, who didn’t budge.  Then she slapped him, hard, across the face.

Baldric woke with a snort.  “Nay now darling…” He blinked and looked around.  “Wha?”

Beldin dragged Nikko over to him with one hand.  “This fellow drugged you,” he lifted the other hand, which held Japheth’s head by its neatly cut hair.  “And this one tried to take the rubbings.”

“I be seein’,” said Baldric, rubbing his good eye.  “A double-cross.”

“We’re going to the Temple of Althares.  We’ll meet you back at the Shrike.”

The captain nodded.  His other men were coming around. 

Beldin wiped the blood off his axe with Japheth’s shirt.  Ilmarė paused at the doorway as the three of them filed out of the tavern.

“Make sure he cleans this mess up first,” Ilmarė pointed to the expanding pool of blood beneath the table. “With his tongue, if necessary.”

“Well, we know how t' take care o' all this.” Baldric grinned with jagged teeth. “We’re pardoned men, but we’re still pirates at heart.”

Nikko whimpered as Baldric and the crew circled him.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 1c: Nikko’s Flophouse*

Vlad arrived to find the Goodly Fisher empty of all inhabitants but one.  Kham sat in the corner, feet propped on a table, a bottle of wine in one hand.  He was staring at a note in the other.

“Where are the others?” asked Vlad, looking around.

“Not here.  I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” said Kham.  “But a messenger just left a note.  Looks like Quintus found the kid…finally.”

“So, do we alert the others?”

Kham nodded at the empty stools.  “We don’t have time to look for them.  I’ll leave a note with the proprietor of this fine establishment.  Whenever the rest of the circus arrives, they can catch up.”

Vlad frowned.  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Kham lifted his feet off the table and adjusted his bandolier.  “It’s not a good idea.  But after all the trouble we’ve been through, I’m not waiting anymore.  The next ship out of Freeport to Coryani leaves in an hour, so we better get going.”

He scribbled something on the back of the note and pinned it with a dagger to the bar.  “There, that should get their attention.”

Then he walked out the door.  Vlad sighed and followed him.

Something was dislodged from bar by the force of Kham’s dagger: Nikko’s arm flopped out from behind it.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 2: The Temple of Althares*

The Temple of Althares was, surprisingly, one of the grander structures in Freeport, nearly rivaling the nearby Temple of Yarris. Massive pillars stood in a double row down the center of the enormous vaulted room, and shelves of scrolls and tomes stretched from floor to ceiling, interrupted only by the walkways that formed the second floor.  

“Whatever possessed the Altherians to build such a repository here?” asked Sebastian.

“Humans worship their gods in the strangest of places,” said Ilmarė.  “They’d build a temple in a sewer if it wasn’t for the stench.”

Bijoux wrinkled her nose.  “This whole city smells like a sewer.”

She and Calactyte had joined up with them as they were leaving the Nikko’s place.  There was still no sign of Kham and Vlad.

A young acolyte watched them from behind a desk just inside the entrance.  “My name is Brother Norton,” he said.  “Can I help you?”

Sebastian thrust out the piece of parchment.  “We found these rubbings,” he said.  “One of them mentions this temple.”

Brother Norton squinted at the rubbing.  “Ah yes!  We used to allow people to make rubbings of the original stone.  But it’s very soft has started to crumble, so we don’t let anyone touch it anymore.”

“In that case,” said Ilmarė.  “we’d like to see the stone.”

“I’m really not the one to ask,” said Brother Norton. “Brother Oriku has made a study of it, but he hasn’t been able to decipher the text.  I’ll have him stop by.”

Brother Norton disappeared into the cavernous temple, only to be replaced by a rotund, pleasant-seeming little man of middle age with a large bald spot on the top of his head.  

“You must be hunting for Captain Krubach’s treasure,” he said. 

“We know of him,” said Sebastian. 

“Legend has it that he plundered a treasure fleet carrying treasures from Khitan, just before the beginning of the rainy season.  He hid the treasure and set off for one more raid, but…” Oriku shook his head.  “He never returned.”

“We found the remains of his ship, the Black Egret,” said Bijoux.  “He won’t be back for his treasure.”

Oriku took off his spectacles to polish the lenses.  “We haven’t had anyone interested in the carving for awhile.” He peered at Ilmarė.  “The last group was going to speak with a Loremaster they knew in Altheria.  If memory serves me right, they took a rubbing with them.”

“You mean these?” asked Sebastian, showing him the pieces of paper.

“Ah yes, that looks like them.  They’ve been a bit mistreated, I see.  It’s no wonder you had to come to look for the original. How did you come by these?”

Beldin grunted.  “We won it off a beggar.”

“Do you know where he got them from?” asked Oriku, nonplussed.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” said Sebastian.

“I lost track of the rubbings after they were made,” said Oriku, “but I can show you the stone, if you like.”

With Oriku’s consent, he led them over to another room containing the stone.  The room was filled with blanks sheaves of paper and parchment, chalk and charcoal.  The stone hung on one wall, protected by a glass frame. Covering another wall was a map of the area surrounding Freeport. 

“This makes no sense,” said Sebastian, studying the stone fragment.  “It’s letters, but not in any form I can understand.”

Beldin stepped up to the frame and looked over the various letters.  “It’s in Low Coryani, but I can’t make heads or tails of it either.”

Ilmarė peered over his shoulder.  “It’s a riddle.  What did the verse say?”

“Captain and his seven officers,” said Sebastian.  “Perhaps it is every seventh letter?”

“Try it,” said Ilmarė.  Behind them, Calactyte took up a piece of chalk and begin scribbling on a blank piece of parchment.

“No,” said Sebastian after a moment, “that doesn’t work.”

“If we denote the first letter as the captain, then count seven letters after that...”

Sebastian shook his head while Cal scribbled furiously. 

“No, that won’t work either,” said Sebastian.

Ilmarė bit her lip.  “Well, the captain also chose the first of nine.  So let’s try every ninth letter.”

“Hmm,” said Sebastian.  “I think we may be on to something.  The first word is ‘at’ and the second appears to be…’isles’? Calactyte, what have you come up with?”

The big lizard stopped scribbling to blink back at the smaller sorcerer.  “Huh?”

Bijoux sighed.  “Cal can’t read.  Or write.”

Cal beamed with all his teeth and displayed his sketch.  It looked vaguely like a boat.  And a pirate.*

“That’s helpful Cal, thank you,” said Ilmarė without skipping a beat.  “For the rest of us who can read, I think I’ve got it,” she said:

“At isle’s northernmost point,
Serpent overlooks the whale.
Seek the serpent den below.”

“I’m confused,” said Bijoux. “Do serpents and whales normally live together?” 

“No,” said Sebastian.  “It’s a code for something else.  I think we’ll need to journey northwards.”

“But northwards where?” said Beldin.  “That could take years to find.”

Ilmarė glanced behind her.  “There,” she said, turning around.  “There’s a whale marked on that part of the island,” she pointed one long finger at the crude drawing of a whale that was inland.

“Interesting,” said Oriku.  “I thought it an error of cartography.”

“But I don’t see a snake,” said Sebastian.

“Here,” said Oriku, pointing at the bottom of a compass rose near the whale.  “The ‘south’ direction looks strange.” He adjusted his glasses and peered closer.  “It’s not just an ‘S’…it’s a serpent.  Yes, I can see its tongue now!”

Ilmarė squinted.  “Yes, I see it. It does look like a snake.”

“Then we know our destination,” said Sebastian.

They turned to leave, but Oriku blocked their path.

“I know I’m just an old man,” said Oriku, “but this mystery has been gnawing at me since I joined the Temple.  To be able to see it to the end…it would mean a great deal to me.” He ran a hand through his remaining hair and straightened up a bit.  “I won’t slow you down.  And I have learned a few tricks, even if I’m not a priest.”

Sebastian looked him up and down.  “Fine,” he said.  “But if you betray us, you will not live long enough to regret it.”  Then he brushed past him.

Oriku looked shaken but nodded at Sebastian’s back.  

“Why was Sebastian so mean to that man?” Bijoux asked as they exited the temple.

“Ymandragorians put him on edge,” said Beldin.

“Freeport will do that to you,” said Ilmarė with a smirk. “I’ll be glad to leave this cesspool behind for a few days.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 3: Two if By Sea*

Captain Baldric stumped his way over to Ilmarė.  “I be seein' ye found some o' yer companions. Good. So do we know 'ere we’re goin'?’

“Yes,” said Ilmarė.  “Up the western side of A’Val.”

“How far up?”

“About 50 miles,” she said.

“That’ll take a good three days.  Who’s this chubby swabbie?”

Osric cleared his throat.  “I am Brother Osric, from the Temple of Althares.”

“I bet ye be,” said Baldric. “I don’t like th' looks o' ye.”

Osric blanched.

The crew crowded around the doughy man.  “So we’re goin' t' put ye t' a test…”

“Oh for crying out loud!” shouted Ilmarė. “Just have the lizard sing it and be done with it.  Osric won’t be with us for that long.”

Baldric harrumphed.  “Fine, fine.” Several of the crew shot sideway glances at Cal, who was staring out at the ocean and sniffing the air.  “We’re gettin' sea sick o' th' lad singin' that song anyway.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 4: A Watery Grave*

It was too dangerous to sail at night so close to the island, so the Shrike released two rowboats to approach the cliffs.  The cliffs were slick with spray, roiled continuously by the rising and ebbing tide.  

As the two boats rowed closer, Osric pointed upwards.  “There!” he said. “That’s where the serpent was on the map.”

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė.  “That’s a sheer cliff!”

Osric adjusted his glasses and rechecked a smaller version of the map from the Temple of Althares.  “I’m afraid that’s the location.”

Ilmarė looked over at Bijoux.  “Well, one of us has to scale that cliff.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Beldin from the other boat.  “Dwarves were built for digging, not—“

He didn’t finish his sentence as something rammed the rowboat, hard.  Beldin went over with a SPLOOSH!

“Swimming?” asked Ilmarė.  

“I think he meant climbing,” said Sebastian with a sigh.

“Shark!” shouted Bijoux, pointing at a disappearing fin.  

Cal put his axe down.  “I’ll take cUHRK!?” He was suddenly frozen, rigid.  He fell backwards into the boat.

“Magic,” said Sebastian.  “There!” He pointed at a barely visible fish head, one webbed hand extended and pointing at them.

“Sycorax sends her regards,” burbled the fish-thing.

“Well then,” said Sebastian, “here’s our thank you note: magicus telum!” A searing bolt of magical energy flew from Sebastian’s outstretched finger into the fish-thing.  It dove down into the water out of sight.

“I know how to deal with sharks,” said Bijoux.  She began to purr.

“So do I,” said Ilmarė.  “Im can am igaearon faer!”

Two porpoises dove in and out of the water in response to the magical call of their mistresses. 

Bijoux looked at the elorii in surprise.  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Osalian’s children are everywhere,” said Ilmarė. She addressed the porpoise, which was surrounded by a faint golden glow.  “Stop the shark!”

Beldin managed to struggle back into the rowboat before he became shark food.

The fish head bobbed to the surface again, and was met with Sebastian’s chant: “magicus telum!” They played a game of cat and mouse for several minutes as the two porpoises relentlessly stalked the shark.  And then neither fin nor fish head surfaced again.

“That was one of the fish people who raided the warehouse in Freeport,” said Sebastian.  

“I was afraid of that,” said Ilmarė.  “Looks like Sycorax will not forgive and forget so easily.”

Beldin grabbed hold of his beard and twisted, wringing seawater out of his hair.  “Now for the hard part,” he said, pointing at the cliff.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5a: The Hidden Cave*

“So now that we’re here,” said Osric, taking in the surrounding countryside, “where is the serpent?”

One scaly claw, dripping seaweed and brine, struggled over the edge of the cliff.  Calactyte was the last to reach the top of the precipice.

“He doesn’t count,” said Ilmarė. “Dig in this time Cal, the last two times you tore off half the cliff with you.”

Calactyte didn’t spare her a glance as the big lizard heaved himself up onto what remained of the dirt outcropping.  He slumped over and caught his breath.

“Well, I think we found the serpent,” said Sebastian, staring up at a tree that loomed over them.

The jungle thinned somewhat, but even at the edge of the precipice, an ancient tree grew.  It leaned out over the ocean and curved into an “S” shape. 

Cal’s large snout turned to face them as he rolled over.  “I know where the whale is.”

“If you sing that song again,” said Ilmarė, “I will kick you off this cliff.”

Calactyte didn’t open his eyes.  “At the base of the cliffs,” he panted, “water arcs through holes.  Like a whale.”

“Like a whale, hmmm,” said Sebastian, stroking his chin.  “That means there are underwater tunnels here.  There should be a cave entrance nearby.”

“Closer than that,” said Bijoux.  She pawed at the base of the strangely shaped tree and removed some foliage.  

Beldin took his axe off his back.  “Finally, we’re going into my kind of terrain.”  Then he ducked into the cave opening.

Cal craned his neck to look down at the cliff.  “Well, it’s got to be better than the ocean.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5b: The Hidden Cave*

The light from Beldin’s axe illuminated rippling surface of the flooded tunnel ahead.  

“I don’t need the light, you know,” he said with irritation.

“I know,” Ilmarė pointed at Osric. “But he does.”

Osric blinked uncertainly back at the dwarf as his eyes adjusted.  

“Why am I having flashbacks?” asked Bijoux, poking at the surface of the water with her staff.

“Because this happened last time,” said Cal.  “Only I had a human strapped to my back.”  His snout swung over to sniff Osric. 

“That won’t be necessary,” said Osric. “I’ll stay here.”

The big lizard shrugged, hunched over in the tunnel.  “Fine. No gourd this time, so I will hold my breath.”  He turned and dove into the water.  His tail whipped about and then disappeared from sight.

Sebastian crossed her arms.  “Somebody better go with him.”

Beldin took a deep breath.  “And here I thought this was MY terrain.”

Then he dove into the inky water after Calactyte.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5c: The Hidden Cave*

Beldin surfaced with a gasp. Sinewy and strong tentacles had clawed at him, demanding he stay beneath the surface, threatening to rob his overtaxed lungs of air.  He never actually saw them--he couldn’t make out anything in the muck, even with Ilmarė’s fey light on his axe. But he had escaped and it was becoming clear the ss’ressen had not.  

Beldin looked around, the light beaming a few pathetic feet ahead of him.  The entire cavern was filled with a strange mist, thick enough that he couldn’t make out the full size of the cavern.  If the echoing drips of water were any indication, it was very large indeed.

The dwarf stumped out of the submerged tunnel, drizzling seawater.  He gripped his axe tightly, straining to listen in the fog but unwilling to venture further into the swirling haze.

Then he heard it.  Something growled to his right, deep and low.  Something large.

Where was Cal?  He began to wonder if the big lizard had drowned.  But he was so powerful; surely a few tentacles wouldn’t slow him down.

Would they?

Beldin unholstered his shield and lifted it up ahead of him.  The sound was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

The growling suddenly came from the left.  Something padded back and forth, moving with meaty thuds as its paws connected with the unyielding cavern floor.  It huffed and grunted as it walked, kicking up the mist.  

When the claw swipe came, he wasn’t ready for it. It was from his right, opposite the noise of the beast.

Beldin barely lifted his axe in time as the claws raked across the leather armor he wore.  After his near drowning, he had sworn to dress appropriately so he would never be in that situation again.  Beldin cursed his own wisdom; his trusty breastplate would have served him well.

The boiled leather tore up in curls where the claw shredded it.  Blood welled up in the marks, but Beldin shrugged it off.  He’d been through worse.

Beldin hacked at the dark shape, but it retreated into the mists.  The claw was covered with black fur, but that could be any of a dozen underground predators.  What was it that was stalking him? A troll? A demon? 

And where the hell was Cal?

Pain tore through his musing as a claw rent through the back of his leather armor, from his left.  Beldin batted at the claw with the flat of his blade.  Was it just his imagination, or was it smaller?

He thought of the others.  Beldin was a trained tunnel fighter, accustomed to dealing with large carnivores in tight spaces.  The others had no idea what they were in for.  They had to be warned…

Something splashed behind him.

Beldin whirled and lifted his axe high overhead with a shout.  The dwarf barely checked himself when it registered that the head he was about to cleave in half was that of a lizard.  A lizard he knew.

“Cal!” shouted Beldin.  “Go back and get the others!”

The lizard’s slitted eyes widened.  “But you are bleeding?”

“I’ll be dead if you don’t get them!  Tell them that there are t—“

Two huge paws circled out of the darkness and yanked Beldin into the mists.  Cal turned and dove back into the water.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5d: The Hidden Cave*

Calactyte returned from the submerged tunnel with a lurch, his huge bearded axe clutched in both hands.  He was entwined in roots that sloughed away as he left the water, the animation that propelled them fading. It was up to the big lizard to hack his way through the angry plant growth to allow the others safe passage.  It took precious time.  

Behind him, Ilmarė and Bijoux slowly slipped out of the watery cavern, their eyes scanning the fog.  Sebastian surfaced last, his long white hair floating behind him like a halo.

In the fog, they could barely make out the glow from Beldin’s axe.  

“Bite me will you?” floated Beldin’s voice.  The light bobbed up and down.  “I’ll teach you to attack a dw—”

Then the light disappeared and they were surrounded by silent fog once more.

Cal roared a challenged, his earflaps raised in defiance. Something very large roared back.

“Cal, wait!” said Bijoux, but he was beyond reason.  The ss’ressen charged off into the fog.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” said Ilmarė. 

“Not if he gets us killed first,” said Sebastian.  “Stay alert, we don’t know how many of these things are out there.”

Bijoux clutched her staff, her head bobbing up and down as she struggled to see through the mists. 

The fihali disappeared with a yelp as a black flash of fur and claws batted Bijoux into the fog. 

“Enough of this,” said Sebastian, rising up out of the water.  He pointed both palms in the direction of where Bijoux disappeared.  “Fuco aspergo!”

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from Sebastian’s hands, illuminating the mists with a rainbow of dazzling hues.  Something in the fog wailed, followed by a heavy thud.  

“Let’s hope that wasn’t Bijoux,” said Ilmarė. The elorii cursed as she fiddled with a small black rod.

“What is that?” asked Sebastian over his shoulder.

”A wand.  I took it off that elorii witch.”

Sebastian backed up to stand next to her.  “A wand?  You’ve had a wand all this time and never told me?”

Ilmarė narrowed her eyes at him.  “You didn’t ask.”

“Give it to me.”

Ilmarė sneered at the dark-kin.  Cal roared again in the fog and something roared back.

“Please,” he said.

“Fine,” said Ilmarė.  She plopped the ruby-tipped rod into his gloved palm.

Sebastian pointed it in the direction of the roaring and was rewarded with a gout of flames.  The mist burned away, only to be slowly filled in again.

“You take care of Bijoux, I’ll go after Cal,” said Sebastian.  And with that, he plunged headlong into the fog.  

Ilmarė unsheathed her thinblade. “I hope you have a few lives left, cat,” she said to no one in particular.  Then she too disappeared into the mists.


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5e: The Hidden Cave*

Sebastian stood in awe of the two titans struggling before him.

On one side was the ss’ressen, his earflaps raised, nostrils flaring.  Every muscle bulged.  His teeth were bared.  When Calactyte wasn’t hissing he was biting and tearing, kicking and tail slapping the hairy beast before him.

Cal’s opponent was a large, black creature covered in fur, all claws and teeth.  Sebastian couldn’t make out its species and wasn’t going to wait to find out. 

He pointed the wand at the black beast and willed it to life.  Flames blasted from the tip and engulfed the thing…only to leave it completely unharmed.

The beast snarled as it turned, its eyes glittering with rage.  It charged, a creature heavy enough that Sebastian could feel every paw hit the ground as it barreled towards him.  

The dark-kin made peace with his maker.

Then the beast stopped short as Cal’s axe hewed through fur, flesh, and bone.  Blood spurted upwards.  With a low moan, the thing collapsed at Sebastian’s feet.

Sebastian looked up at the lizard, covered in blood.  “Thanks,” he said.

Cal didn’t focus on him.  His head darted to and fro, his chest heaving.  Sebastian was sure to face him as he stepped towards where Beldin lay crumpled in a heap.  

He uncorked a vial from his belt pouch.  Beldin was covered in vicious gashes that easily penetrated his leather.  The wounds were such that it was difficult to tell where armor stopped and dwarf begun.  

Sebastian poured the contents of the vial down Beldin’s throat.  They were a gift from Quintus, courtesy of the Coryani legion.

Calactyte sniffed at the corpse. The beast had small eyes, rounded ears, a long snout, a large body, and a short tail. It had a brown muzzle and a patch of white on its chest. Overall, it was six feet in length. 

The dwarf immediately sputtered to life.  “BEARS?” he shouted.

“We know,” said Ilmarė, carrying a limping Bijoux.  “Two of them.”

“Those were bears?” said Beldin in disbelief.  The dwarf struggled to his feet.

“My magic does not kill,” said Sebastian.  “The other bear will rise...”

Ilmarė’s lips became a thin line.  “It’s taken care of.”

Bijoux looked pained, but whether from the murder of an unconscious bear or her wounds was unclear.

Beldin brought his glowing axe closer to examine the corpse.  Shadows danced along the vast cavern’s walls and stretched away into darkness. “It’s not possible,” he said. “I’ve fought far worse in the tunnels near Solanos Mor.  These were no ordinary bears.”

“Indeed,” said Sebastian.  “I used Ilmarė’s wand on one and its fur wasn’t even singed.”

Bijoux stroked the fur of the black bear.  “Magic,” said Bijoux. “They had help.”

“What’s that?” said Ilmarė.

“What?” asked Calactyte.

“I think that’s…” she trailed off as a shadow loomed across Cal.  “…the help.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5f: The Hidden Cave*

Calactyte never had a chance. The lizard only had enough time to turn in surprise before his attacker batted him sideways as if Cal didn’t weigh over 300 pounds.   The ss’ressen skidded across the cave floor, unconscious.

Two large black bears bellowed as they charged into the center of the cavern.  One pointed a paw at Ilmarė.  The other turned with a feral intelligence towards Sebastian.  

“Those are NOT normal bears,” said Ilmarė, drawing her bow. 

“I think we’ve made them angry,” said Bijoux, drawing her own bow.

Beldin picked up his axe and lifted his shield.  “I know how to deal with these things.”  He lifted his axe.  “There’s no fog to protect you now!” shouted the dwarf.

The larger black bear reared back on its hind legs and roared.  Then it landed on all four paws and a stream of flames burst forth from its snout.

“What the…?” was all Beldin got out before the flames washed over his shield.  The force of the blast rattled him, but he held his ground.

The other bear stumped towards Ilmarė.  

“Faer ned I amar, im canam!”

A spider the size of a man landed on top of the second bear with all eight legs.  It had bright red legs and mandibles and a reddish-yellow thorax. The spider sank its fangs, dripping with poison, into the beast.

Bijoux recoiled in horror.  “What have you summoned?  That thing…it has the taint of the infernal about it!”

“It’s saving our lives,” snarled Ilmarė.  “Quiet, or you’ll hurt its feelings.”

The second black bear turned and dug its two claws into joints in the spider’s chitin.  Then it tore the arachnid in half, spraying black ichor everywhere.  When the bear turned to pursue Ilmarė, it stumbled…the poison was taking effect.

“Like fighting Nierites,” muttered Beldin.  “Sebastian, catch!”  He tossed a red and black vial to Sebastian as the first bear advanced on him.

Sebastian uncorked the potion with one hand and gulped down its contents.  

The bear stretched its maw and flames washed over Sebastian.  The dark-kin reflexively held up one arm, but the fire had no effect.  

“Let’s see if you can take as good as you give,” said Sebastian.  He pointed his wand at the beast. Flames spiraled out of the ruby tip and struck the bear.  The black bear howled as its fur caught on fire.

Beldin buried his axe deep in the distracted bear’s side.  It fell over with a thud.  

Ilmarė fired an arrow into the second bear’s skull.  Then it too, lay still.

They all stood over the corpse of the first bear as it morphed and shrank.  When it finally stopped moving, all that was left was the body of a burnt and battered gnome.  

“He was just defending his home,” said Bijoux, with tears in her eyes.  “He didn’t deserve this death.”

“He was trying to kill us,” said Ilmarė.  “So we killed him first.  That is the way of things.”

“It is not the right way,” said Bijoux.

“Get used to it,” said Ilmarė.  “It’s the Onaran way.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 5g: The Hidden Cave*

“I found what we came for,” said Beldin.  Stacked in the damp recesses of the cave were silks and perfumes from far Khitan, the legacy of the last ships that Krubach plundered—and somewhere, the notebooks of Garniss the Sage.

Ilmarė took a closer look.  “Rotted,” she said with disgust.  “Useless.”

“The treasure was never meant to be stored here,” said Sebastian.  

The silk was mildewed by the damp air and crusted with sea salt.  The delicate perfumes had evaporated, leaving only an oily residue behind.  They didn’t even bother to check the barrels of rare culinary delicacies.

There was a loud CLANG! as Beldin smashed open the lock of a brassbound sea chest.  Inside were a silvered and bejeweled mail shirt and matching gladius.  

“Quintus would be in awe,” Ilmarė said with a smirk. 

As the others sifted through the treasure, Bijoux put her hands on Calactyte’s wounds.

Sebastian lifted up a bag.  “These are the jewels Baldric spoke about.  Pearls and the like…the kind sewn onto fancy clothing.”

Ilmarė nodded.  “That’s the crew’s share. Now where is…ah yes.”

The elorii found her prize: a set of eight books, carefully wrapped and sealed tightly against the elements.  The waxen seals on the books bore the symbol of Garniss the Sage.

She gathered up the books.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“We need a moment to rest,” said Sebastian.  “Calactyte, Beldin, and Bijoux are all hurt.”

“I’m fine,” said Beldin in irritation. Despite his wounds, the dwarf’s pride has suffered most. “But we’re in a sea cave. It may be more than an underwater tunnel we’ll have to worry about soon.” 

Bijoux pointed at a crustacean attached to a nearby cavern wall.  “This is a creature of the sea,” she said.  “It does not normally live out of water.”

“Fine,” said Ilmarė.  “We’ll need the lizard anyway to haul the treasure out of here.”

“That’s very noble of you,” said Bijoux, narrowing her eyes.

Before Ilmarė could respond, Sebastian asked, “whatever happened to Oriku?”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Part 6: Confrontation*

As they hauled the last of the recovered treasure out of the cave, a low chuckle came from the jungle.

“Very nice of you to do the work of hauling all of that stuff up here for us,” said the rough voice of a half-orc.  “We’ve got you covered, so don’t try anything funny. Just lay your weapons on the ground and walk away.”

Brother Oriku was surrounded by four orcs, his hands tied behind his back.  Two snarling war dogs choked on their leashes. All four of the orcs had crossbows leveled at them.

Ilmarė closed her eyes and shook her head.  “I don’t believe this,” she muttered under her breath.  Then she raised her head and smiled a dazzling smile.  “Look,” she said.  “I think there’s some kind of arrangement we can work out.  You’re clearly a sensible…” she choked on the word “…man.”

Behind her, Bijoux began to purr with arms outstretched in a gesture of supplication.  She focused on the two dogs, which titled their heads in confusion at her.

There was a momentary pause while each party sized the other up.  Then the half-orc broke out into laughter.

“You want to negotiate, pretty elf?  I’ll tell you what: you put down your weapons and then I will be happy to work out an…arrangement with you.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” said Sebastian.  “Let’s just kill them and be done with it.” He stepped forward with palm outstretched. “Fuco aspergo!”

Sebastian’s familiar cone of black, purple, green and red colors flashed over the four orcs.  They fell to the ground, unconscious.

His gesture released the war dogs, which immediately set upon Bijoux.  It was all she could do to hold them off with both ends of her quarterstaff.

The half-orc swung at Ilmarė with his longsword.  She drew her thinblade just in time to block the blow and then skipped backwards down into the cave as the half-orc’s spiked shield barely missed her head. Something green spattered off of the tip.  

“Spider venom,” said Ilmarė. “Well that’s ironic.”

“It’s truly the end of the world,” said Beldin as he slammed one dog with his shield.  “Dogs and cats trying to be friends.”

“It makes about as much sense as elves and orcs negotiating,” said Sebastian, pulling the wand from his robes.  

“Cal!” said Ilmarė.  “Untie Oriku!”

Cal rushed forward, slapping a dog aside with his tail.  There was a shout of “Fuco aspergo!” and then Cal and Beldin went down, clutching at their eyes.

Bijoux turned to blink at Sebastian.  

“I didn’t do that!” he said.

“I did,” said Oriku, the rope merely wrapped around his wrists.  “You had to make this difficult! You couldn’t just give up the treasure!”

“Duck!” shouted Sebastian.  Ilmarė ducked down just as the sheet of flames whooshed over her, engulfing the half-orc.  He brought his shield up to block the flames, but it forced him backwards.

”Hey Oriku,” shouted Ilmarė.  “The crew really did have one last test for you!” She whirled and threw the deceased captain Bezyli’s knife with her free hand.  

It sprouted from Oriku’s skull.  His eyes crossed as he fell flat on his face.

Ilmarė’s throw left her back unprotected.  The half-orc rose up…

And slumped to the ground, an arrow still quivering in his chest.  

Ilmarė looked up at Bijoux, bow in her hands.

The cat-person shrugged.  “He was trying to kill you,” said Bijoux.  “So I killed him first.” 

“Nice shot,” said Ilmarė.

“It is the Onaran way,” Bijoux said softly.

“I told you,” Sebastian said to Osric’s corpse, “you wouldn’t live to regret it.”


----------



## talien

*All That Glitters - Conclusion*

Sebastian crouched down next to the corpse of Brother Oriku. 

“I don’t understand,” he said.  “Why would a brother of Althares betray us?”

“Have you MET Kham?” Ilmarė asked, nudging the corpse of the dead half-orc with one foot.  

Bijoux helped Beldin and Cal to their feet.  

Sebastian rifled through the dead man’s pockets. “Kham is hardly representative of the Altharin people,” he said. “Anymore than you represent all elorii.”

Sebastian lifted a small silver coin out of Osric’s belt pouch.  His expression turned grim.

“What is it?” asked Bijoux.

Sebastian flipped the coin to Beldin, who snatched it out of the air. It had an occult design on one side, but it was the face opposite that caught his attention.

It was the face of His Majesty Sorcery, King of Ymandrake.

“It seems that the Sorcerer-King’s fingers are reaching towards Freeport as well,” said Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Introduction*

This is the fifth point of Year 1 of the tournament module, "To Reap the Whirlwind," written by Henry Lopez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rog2/pw1) played by Jeremy Ortiz: http://www.dreamsculptor.com 
·	Quintus Ingatius (human clr3) played by Michael Tresca: http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Vlad Martell (human ftr3) played by Matt Hammer

Rob Taylor was Dungeon Master for this session: http://www.storyboardz.net 

Ahh, it’s good to be back playing Quintus again.  If it hasn’t been made clear, Rob will be DMing all the hard points, ensuring Quintus is involved and mostly relevant to the plot.  Of course, I don’t even know what the plot is, so it’ll be interesting to see Arcanis evolve as we play through each year.

This adventure involved the “old gang” again, but it was abrupt—lots of plot, not as much action.  One reason for this is because we did all the right things (Quintus, unlike Kham, hung onto the silver dagger that is the symbol of Senator Tensen-Balin’s favor), and thus avoided some fights.  

Indeed, Quintus is ideal for this sort of adventure because he’s taking orders from a Senator. Given that Quintus is lawful neutral, things have never been more black and white for him.  This is ironic, because the adventure has provisions for players screwing things up.  Quintus made the “right” choice (at least, the choice that advances the plot) each time.

The only thing that’s bugging me is that I didn’t realize that “To Drink Deeply from the Chalice of Midnight” ended in Grand Coryan and that this adventure picks up where that one left off. In essence, what the hell was Quintus doing all this time that he couldn’t walk over, knock on the Senator’s door, and ask him where his son is?

I try to explain it in Part 1.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 1: One Way or Another*

Kham and Vlad walked up Aventine Hill to the agreed upon spot where Quintus’ note said he would meet them.  It was night, illuminated only by a single sputtering lantern on the way towards the hill.  Up above them, two guards stood in bored attention at a large iron gate.

“Let me get this straight,” said Kham.  “Weren’t you two in Grand Coryan when you found out about the kid?”

The larger man nodded. 

“And you couldn’t just knock on Senator Tensen-Balin’s door and ASK him?”

Vlad pushed one hand through his curly black hair.  “Quintus said it was complicated,” he said.  “I’m not good with politics.”

“Besides,” came a booming voice from behind them, “they were off saving you’re worthless hide!”

The man that approached them had changed.  The brown-eyed, black-haired legionnaire still stood at six feet, but it looked as if he’d lost weight.  His lorica segmentata was polished to a mirror shine.  He wore a blue-crested helmet and a deep purple cloak.  Still, Quintus Aurelius Ignatius’ voice was unmistakable.

“Quintus!” said Vlad.  He took Quintus arm in greeting.  “It’s been too long.  How have you been?”

“Well enough,” said Quintus.  He nodded towards Kham.  “I see your mission was successful.”

Kham shoved his hands in his pockets.  “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“It’s good to see you too, Kham,” said Quintus with a slight smile.  

“It’s pronounced kha-YEM,” said Kham in irritation.

“Of course,” said Quintus.  “Where are the others?”

“Not sure,” said Vlad.  “We left a note for them to follow us here but they haven’t arrived yet. We came as fast as we could.”

“Don’t worry,” Kham said with a sly grin.  “I’m sure Ilmarė will be along soon.”

Quintus ignored the jibe. “I’ve been discreetly asking about Cassicus’ whereabouts, but he has recently disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” asked Vlad.

“Completely. From politics.  From public appearances.  I can find no trace of him. In fact, even the Senator’s been very difficult to keep track of.  I got word that he was coming back to his estate, so I summoned you here in the hopes we could catch up with him.  I hate to be so abrupt with so august a personage but—“

“Oh, give me a break,” said Kham, shaking his head. 

“To answer your question,” said Quintus sternly, “one does not simply walk up to the Senator’s residence and knock on his door.  There are protocols that must be followed.”

Kham straightened the lapel of his overcoat.  “I didn’t travel all this way just to play footsie with Coryani thugs,” said Kham.  

And with that, he marched right up to the gate.  It was one of the two main entryways into the residential estates.  

The two guards stood at attention.  “State your business,” one said, his hand resting on the hilt of his gladius.

“We’re here to see Tensen-Balin,” said Kham.  He gestured to Quintus and Vlad, who trudged up the trail behind him.  

The guards looked at each other and then back at Kham.  “The Senator is not expecting guests.  It might be better if you came back in the morning.”

Quintus stood in front of Kham.  “I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.”

The guard lifted his chin.  “So?”

With a sigh, Quintus pushed back his cloak to reveal a silver dagger.  It was a symbol of Senator Augustus Tensen-Balin’s favor for rescuing his son, Cassicus.

The guards’ eyes widened and they both moved aside.  “The Senator will be pleased to see you,” said one.

“I knew I shouldn’t have sold that dagger,” said Kham to nobody in particular.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 2a: Uninvited Guests*

They arrived at the senator’s home at Quintus’ direction.  

“Something’s wrong,” said Quintus.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“The gates,” he said.  “They’re closed and locked, but the guards that should normally be stationed here are missing.”

Kham threw back his overcoat; five flintlocks were visible dangling from a bandolier across his chest and waist. 

“I see you still have your handgonnes,” said Quintus.  “Good, I was afraid you might be useless.”

Kham reached into one of the many pockets inside his overcoat and pulled forth a dagger instead.  “First of all, they’re flintlocks,” he said as a small rod popped out of the back of the dagger.  He shook the dagger, and lock picks sprung out of the rod.  

Kham inserted the lock pick into the lock. With a flick of his wrist, Kham turned the dagger’s handle and the gate swung open. “Second, I’ve got plenty of skills you don’t know about.”

Quintus didn’t say anything as Kham bowed slightly, with one open palm towards the senator’s home.

As they approached, it was clear that the main door had been warped and shaped to create a circular opening.

“Trouble,” said Quintus.  He lifted his spear and charged forward towards the door.

Vlad shrugged and ran after the legionnaire, sword out.

“What are you doing?!” hissed Kham as he drew two of his flintlocks.

“Saving the senator!” he shouted.  His longspear struck the door and rammed it open.

Just inside the foyer, five guards lay strewn about.  One particularly plump guard was snoring loudly, his hand still clutching his gladius. 

There was a loud slap and a grunt from the adjoining room across from the atrium.  

“Hurry,” came a woman’s voice, “this is taking far too long,”

Quintus didn’t stop.  He and Vlad ran into the atrium, with Kham in tow.

“For the last time, senator,” said a harsh voice, “where is the boy?”

Within the room, tied to two rather expensive-looking red lacquered chairs inlaid with lion-shaped engravings, was Augustus Tensen-Balin.  Another man they’d never seen before was with him, although by his swarthy complexion and hairstyle, he was probably of Myrantian descent.  Both showed signs of a beating.  The Myrantian had a black eye and swollen jaw.

Gathered around them was a small group of men.  The leader wore a golden-striped toga.  He reclined on an upholstered chair, with a golden goblet in one hand.  Providing the beatings were a pair of burly Ulfilans wearing leather armor and broadswords strapped to their backs.  A demon familiar was perched on the shoulder of the impatient young woman, mimicking her every move.  

“Letum infernus!” shouted Quintus, lowering his spear and charging at one of the Ulfilans.  Vlad advanced on the other.

It was all the two Ulfilans could do to draw their swords.  “Kham,” shouted Quintus, “take out the woman!”

“And he’s back to giving orders,” said Kham with a sneer.  “Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said to the woman.  

“Oh, but I want to hurt you,” she said.  She chanted, “magicus telum” and a glowing bolt of magical energy seared Kham’s chest.

“Ow, dammit!  Now stop that!”  Kham swung at her with the butt of his pistol, but she ducked out of the way.

The leader pointed at Kham.  “Acid sagitta!” A spiraling bolt of acid splashed onto Kham’s coat, burning through the leather.

Quintus blocked a blow from one of the thugs with his large shield.  “Just shoot her!”

“Fine, we can do this the hard way,” said Kham.  He dropped the pistol and lunged for the woman.

“Magis attrecto!” said the woman, pointing at the pistol.

Behind Kham, the unattended pistol slowly rose and pointed at the back of his head.

Vlad was pulling his longsword out of the corpse of an Ulfilan when he looked up. “Kham, DUCK!”

Kham ducked just as the telltale KA-BLAM! of his pistol went off.  When the smoke cleared, the woman had a large red hole in her head.  She fell to the ground.

“Finally,” said Quintus.  He yanked his spear out of his dead opponent.  

“That’s just about enough of that,” said the leader.  “Fuco aspergo!”

A bright cone of colors flashed from the man’s hand and washed over Vlad.  He fell to the ground, stunned.

“Man, I hate Sebastian’s color magic,” said Kham.  He picked up Jessica.  “I’m not going to be as gentle with you,” he said to the leader.

“Stand in awe before the might of Illiir!” shouted Quintus, pointing his spear at the man.  He instantly froze, bound by Quintus’ divine command.

Kham sauntered up to the leader and socked him in the jaw.  He went down in a heap.

“I knew you named your pistols,” said Quintus.  “But I didn’t know they could fire on their own.”

“Me neither,” said Kham.  Then he lowered his voice to address his other pistols. “Don’t you ladies get any ideas.”


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 2b: Uninvited Guests*

The leader of the thugs, Solanius Dorin, spat in front of Quintus. Vlad held both of Solanius’ arms behind his back and forced him into a kneeling position.

Quintus turned to Augustus.  “What would you like me to do with him, senator?” His hand rested on his gladius, leaving little doubt as to what he was willing to do.

“He should be arrested and await judgment,” said the senator.  He turned to lay a hand on the Myrantian’s shoulder.  “My old friend Menet came to me earlier this evening with news that rogue elements within the Sanctorum may attempt an attack upon my person in the hopes of taking my son from me.”

Quintus peered at Menet’s swollen jaw.  He had yet to speak.

“Your jaw is broken,” he said.  “Hold still for Illiir’s blessing.”

Quintus put both hands on the man’s face.  An incantation and glow later, the swelling had disappeared.

“I quickly sent my wife and young daughters to our Villa in Salantis along with the lion’s share of my guards,” said the senator. “I had planned to leave with Menet for another locale, but I had to safeguard my Imperial Seal and could not leave until it was safe.  Unfortunately, the villains attacked before we could take our leave. I can only assume that they cast some sort of enchantment upon my guards.”

“If it’s anything like what hit me,” said Vlad, “I can understand why they were not awake when the attack came.”

“Worry not,” said Augustus.  “We revealed nothing.  I would sooner die than let scoundrels such as these have my son.”

“Your methods were effective,” said Quintus.  “I have been in search of Cassicus for weeks now, to no avail.”

“We all have,” said Kham, idly reloading his flintlock pistol.

“What happened to him after we returned him to you?” asked Quintus.

“My son became progressively worse,” said the senator. “I knew not whom to trust after Theron’s betrayal.”

“Oh yeah, I remember him,” said Kham.  “The kid’s hopefully less…transparent these days.”

The senator continued.  “I began to seek out my contacts in the Sanctorum, trying to find old friends and comrades.  I finally contacted an adventuring companion by the name of Livinus.  It seemed that the old man had decided to retire from the affairs of man and took up the task of training young mages while indulging in an old passion of his: archaeology.”

For the first time, Kham looked interested.  “Go on,” he said.

“Livinus told me that he had set up a Sanctorum in the lost city of Balamshal, in the trackless wastes of the Hinterlands.  He said there were ruins that even the Elorii considered ancient.  Most importantly, there was a sacred well that restored vitality and healed even the sickest among them.  So I entrust my son’s well-being to him and prayed for his recovery.”

“The boy is dying and there is no way to save him,” said Solanius.  “Let him at least die for a noble cause than a meaningless death.”

Vlad shoved Solanius with his foot for good measure.

“That explains why he was so difficult to find,” said Quintus.

“It was only a few weeks ago,” said Augustus. “I had thought him safe, but since this attack, I fear for his safety.”

Quintus thrust out his chin.  “Then we must hasten to his side.  Is there a portal nearby?”

Kham began patting himself down.

“As far as I know, there are no known portals in that area,” said Augustus. “But I have other means.  Before he left, Livinius gave me a scroll with a spell upon it that will transport us instantly to the outskirts of Balamshal.  Menet can transport us to Balamshal with it.”

Quintus looked at Kham.  

“…twenty,” said Kham.  He nodded back at Quintus.  They both turned to Vlad.

Vlad dragged Solanius to his feet as the other guardsmen awoke.  He shoved his bound captive towards them, such that he stumbled and fell at their feet. Then he took a deep breath.  “I’m in.”

Menet began intoning the arcane spell.  They slowly dissolved into green mist…

…only to coalesce in front of a pair of crumbling giant statues.  The two statues had outstretched arms meeting high overhead to form an archway.  Beyond the archway was one of the most alien and ancient ruins they had ever seen.

“So this is what Balamshal looks like,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 3: Arrival at the Sanctorum*

“I can lead the way,” said Augustus.  

“No senator, we’re not sure if it’s safe,” said Quintus.  “I will lead.”  

Quintus stepped in front, but before he could move much further towards the ruins, an enormous wall of flames erupted in his path.  

A booming voice commanded, “Stop!  Identify yourselves!”

Quintus kept his shield between the senator and the flames.  “I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun. I am safeguarding Senator Tensen-Balin.”

“That’s twice today you’ve gotten to introduce yourself, Quintus,” said Kham.  “You must be having a great day.”

The flaming wall immediately disappeared and a small group of men stood before them.  The leader stepped forward and bowed deeply. Judging from her snow-white hair and pale skin, she appeared to be a Kio.

“I am Yvgine’, current leader of this Sanctorum.”  

“Yvigne’?” said the senator.  “Where is Livinius?”

“I fear I have grave news senator,” said Yvigne’.  She led them towards the ruins. “Most of the hierarchy has fallen gravely ill.  It began as nothing more than a common cold, but after a few days, they grew worse and worse.  Livinius was the first to fall.  He died just last night.”

“Died?” asked Quintus.  “How?”

“He began to convulse violently, then raw arcane energy leaked out of him, wreaking havoc on his surroundings.  He destroyed two buildings before his final spasm.”

“Destroyed buildings?” asked Kham.  “As in, exploded?”

Yvigne’ nodded.  “He collapsed and immolated before our very eyes.  He was ashes in moments.”

“And Cassicus?” asked Augustus.

“He is safe for the moment, but he too is in the hold of whatever plague Neroth has visited upon us.  Even the most potent of our magical cures do nothing more than alleviate the pain for a short while.”

The senator almost fell backwards.  Quintus steadied him with one hand. 

“Easy senator.  Would you like a moment?”

The older man put one hand to his forehead.  “No.  No I’ll be all right.  How many have been infected?”

“Almost a score,” said Yvigne’. “The majority have been masters and a handful of students.”

“When did this plague start?” asked Menet.

“Shortly after the boy arrived.  It was at about the same time as when we found the Elorii deep in the ruins.”

Quintus’ gaze snapped from the senator to Yvigne’.  “An Elorii?”

“One of our team found a female Elorii in the ruins.  She was in the interior of a collapsed structure near the Obelisk Honeycomb.  Her body was smoking, but oddly enough, she was very cold to the touch.”

“So you’ve got a dead elf on your hands,” said Vlad.

“Quite the contrary,” said the Kio.  “We healed her as best we could, enough that she was able to speak.  But she was fluent in a language we did not expect…Ymandrake.”

“I should like to speak to this Elorii,” said Quintus.  

“One of Master Livinius’ last orders was for her to be kept under constant watch and isolated until we could determine how she came to be here and what her intentions are. Until we understand this plague, it’s best if she remain under quarantine.”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” said the senator. “Yvigne’, please treat my escorts as honored guests.  Menet, I’d like to see my son now.”

“Of course, senator,” said Yvigne’. Quintus made to follow Menet and the senator, but Menet spun on his heel.

“We’ll be fine, Quintus.  We’ll call you if we need you.”

Quintus stopped, uncertain, as the pair walked off.

“Would you like a tour of the ruins?” asked Yvigne’.

“I’d love one,” said Kham, sidling up to Yvigne’.  “My name’s Kham, by the way.”  

Vlad shrugged at Quintus and followed Kham.  After a moment, the legionnaire walked dejectedly behind them.

“If it makes you feel better,” said Kham to Quintus, “I can bark orders at you and you can follow me around instead.”


----------



## talien

*Gah!*

Well, it looks like we lost about 50 posts due to the backup.  So to remedy that problem, I will be posting a new update on a steady schedule: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

That should help get us back on track, eventually.  If you think that's too frequent or not frequent enough, let me know.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 4a: Beware the City of the Green Death*

The first stop of the tour was a place known as the Sanctorum.  

“This Sanctorum was originally founded in the Coryani Empire.  But it suffered a particularly horrible attack by Harvesters.  Lucius Orata, head of the order, left soon after the attack, leaving the Sanctorum in Livinius’ hands.”

“That’s the same attack where Augustus Balin assisted the mages in fending off the Harvester attack,” said Quintus.

Yvigne’ nodded.  “Master Livinius decided to the move the Sanctorum to a more remote location and found these ruins quite by accident.  We’ve been here for over a dozen years.”

“Tell me more about Balamshal,” said Kham.

“The ruin’s name comes from the few inscriptions found in the Elorii buildings in this quarter.  We think it means ‘The City of the Green Death,’ but we have yet to come across anything matching that description.”

They passed by the main ruins, which consisted of steep, red-painted ziggurats and associated buildings.  

“These buildings actually predate the Elorii buildings by quite a period of time.  The original inhabitants here must have been quite religious, as the main square is dominated by a series of these ziggurats.”  She gestured at the pyramid behind them.  “We believe them to be temples to some blasphemous false gods.”

“One man’s god is another man’s demon,” said Kham with a smirk.  “I’m sure the elf would agree.”

“You mean the Elorii we found?” asked Yvigne’. 

“Different elf. Ignore him,” said Quintus, leveling a stare at Kham.  “What of the Elorii buildings?”

They walked passed the eastern edge of the ruins.  “These buildings were taken over by the mages as the main living quarters.”

“There’s nothing green here at all,” said Vlad, looking at the red hues of the surrounding hills and mountains.  

“The only green we found was in a level below the main temple,” said Yvigne’.  “We discovered an octagonal room that held seen bronze sarcophagi, which were laid open but empty.  There were several copper statues of Elorii in various stages of flight, expressions of terror on their faces.”

“And those are green?” asked Vlad.

“The statues were green from rust, as copper is wont to do over the years. After we found those statues, Master Livinius forbade any of us to descend beyond the ground level of any of the temple buildings.  Ah, here’s the Main Temple.”

They entered the largest structure in the ruins, an enormous octagonal room.  

“Looks like some sort of calendar,” said Kham, adjusting his tinted glasses.  

“Very good,” said Yvigne’, looking at Kham with newfound respect.  “On each wall are pictographs representing the time and race ascendant in that age.”

There were a series of undecipherable glyphs on the wall.  At its center was a carving of a humanoid creature with two arms and two tentacle-like appendages growing from its side.  It seemed to have a very narrow and sharp profile that extended higher and lower than a human’s.

“If the first wall is any indication,” said Kham, “that founding race wasn’t pretty.”

Stranger species were carved into the walls, until they reached Ssethregorans, Elorii, and then finally human beings.

“The final two walls are blank,” said Yvigne’.  “And yet, the borders and framing symbols all appear to be inscribed.”

“The end of the world,” said Vlad.

“Not necessarily,” interjected Quintus.  “It’s possible the original scribes ran out of time before they finished their work.”

“Always the optimist,” said Kham, shaking his head.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 4b: Beware the City of the Green Death*

They left the Main Temple and proceeded to the very end of the Maine Avenue.

“Whoa,” said Vlad, pulling up short.  He pointed upwards.

36 cyclopean solid black obelisks were arrayed in a honeycombed shape.

Yvigne’ seemed amused.  “At first, we though the obelisks were made from either black basalt or obsidian.  On closer inspection, we discovered it’s neither.”

“So what is it made of?” asked Kham.

“We don’t know.  Something we’ve never seen before on Onara.  With some experimentation, we discovered that…well, let me demonstrate. Please stand back.”

They all took a step back as Yvigne’ chanted, “Incensio terum!”

A fan of flames arched from her hands, but as soon as they touched the obelisks, the flames became a conflagration of hellfire.  The scorching heat forced Kham to take a step back and shield his face.

“Wow,” said Vlad.

Yvigne’ dusted her hands.  “Evocations increased in power, but unfortunately, they also become harder to control.  It can even rebound on the caster.”

“A dubious boon,” said Quintus.”

“Trust me, I know this first hand,” said Yvigne’.  “This is one of two interesting artifacts.  Let me show you the Gravel Pit.”

She led them to off to the south of the ruins, to a large gravel pit.  It looked to be composed of tiny bits of the same material the obelisks were made of.

“Let me guess,” said Kham.  “It’s not the same effect here.”

“You are correct,” said Yvigne’.  “Quite the opposite.”

“So you were casting spells here and they didn’t work?” asked Vlad.

“One of the masters, Master Ecor, had some interest in bees and honey.  As chance would have it, a large flower field rests just south of the Gravel Pit.”  She pointed to a field of yellow poppies south of the pit.  “Master Ecor set up his beehives and such at the edge of the pit and began to notice a strange effect.  After some experimentation, he discovered that the gravel acts as a magical suppressant.”

Quintus leaned down to pick up one of the rocks. “The gravel would make for a powerful defense against Harvesters.”

“You’d think so,” said Yvigne’,” but when we sent the gravel to other Sanctorums, we discovered its potency only lasts a few hours outside the valley.”

Before she could say more, a bell rang loudly from the Elorii buildings in the eastern portion of the ruins.

Yvigne’ took off in a sprint towards the buildings.  “That’s the alarm! The Sanctorum is under attack!”

“I knew I should have stayed with the senator,” said Quintus.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 5: The Pride of the Hawks*

As they approached the Elorii buildings that housed the mages of the Sanctorum, they noticed a huge gathering in the makeshift central square.  There, a score of mages, Menet and Senator Tensen-Balin faced off against a small group of robed men.  Standing at the front of the intruders was none other than Master Theron himself.

“The traitor!” said Quintus, increasing his speed.

Master Theorn held up both his hands as Quintus, Yvigne’, Vlad, and Kham closed.  “Peace, my brothers.  We have no quarrel with you.  You have inadvertently loosed a plague meant solely for our enemies and are suffering greatly for it.  Let us speak.”

Quintus huffed up to stand beside the senator.

“Why should I should not strike you down where you stand!” snarled a furious Tensen-Balin.

“Because this concerns your son and an oath you made many years ago, my friend.  Please, let us speak.”

The senator looked sideways at Quintus.  The legionnaire slowly lowered his spear. “Your son is ill, senator.  If he has a chance of saving him, you should listen.”

Kham looked sideways at Quintus.  “Did I just hear him right?” he whispered to Vlad. “Did he just advise peace over war?”

“People change,” said Vlad. “Especially when it comes to loved ones.”

“Maybe,” said Kham.  “But just in case, I’m going to keep the harem ready.” He patted the pistols concealed beneath his overcoat.

Yvigne led them to a small side room with a table and some chairs.  Theron took a seat, followed reluctantly by Augustus.  Quintus stood behind the senator.

“Many years ago,” said Theron, “during that fateful night when you helped us fend off that devastating Harvester attack, you swore an oath to us that you would do anything to aid us in destroy the threat of the Sorcerer-King and Ymandragore.”

Augustus nodded his head.

“You may not know this, but the majority of the children taken by the Harvesters are latent sorcerers.  Over the years, it stands to reason that the majority of the mages under his control would be sorcerers in turn. By that logic, we developed a spell that would target those who possessed sorcery and destroy only them. The spell was a complex ritual that required the death of many sorcerers. It also had to gestate in an unborn child gifted with arcane power.  That night, when so many of our brothers died, Master Orata acted so that their deaths need not be in vain.  He knew that you, good Augustus, would be destined for great things.  When you vowed that night to destroy the Ymandrakes, Master Orata cast the spell upon you, hoping that one day you would transfer the power of the ritual to your unborn son.”

Augustus gasped in outrage.

“Even after Master Orata disappeared, we kept track of you and your career.  We even arranged for you to meet your lovely wife.  Then, we just waited for nature to run its course.”

“That’s cold,” said Kham.  

“Villain!” shouted Augustus, slamming both palms on the table.  “You dare to use my son as your instrument of death because you are too cowardly to attack Ymandragore yourself!”

“I would gladly give my life,” said Theron, “if it would mean the demise of that monster.  We did what we needed to do; what you vowed to do. I watched and trained the boy myself, and I daresay I grew to love him.  But this is war, Augustus, and sacrifices, no matter how dear, must be made.”

Theron waved at Quintus with the back of his hand. “Unfortunately, these meddlesome creatures interfered with our plans and stopped the boy from being harvested.  Had they stayed out of our affairs, the Ymandrakes would be reeling now, ripe for the final blow.”

Quintus’s eyes narrowed.  “Be careful, Theron.  I can clear the space between us faster than you can cast a spell.”

The senator put out one hand to halt Quintus.

“Instead,” continued Theron, ”the boy was brought here.  Now he has claimed the life of Master Livinius and threatens many more.  This was not our wish.  We desperately wanted to take the boy away from those he would harm.”

“I’m familiar with your methods of questioning,” said Augusts, rubbing his jaw.

“You were never in any danger, my lord,” said Menet, head bowed low.  “I was present to assure that the interrogation never got out of hand.  After a few more minutes, they would have left and I could have been taken into your full confidence and led to the boy.  But a fly entered the ointment and more lives were lost.” Menet’s gaze flicked to Vlad, who was advancing on him.  “Nevertheless, I was able to slip away while you were with your son and contact Master Theron with the location of this Sanctorum.”

Vlad stood face to face with Menet.  “I changed my mind,” said Vlad. “Let’s kill them.”

The senator rose to his feet.  “Am I such a fool as to always surround myself with liars and spies? Gods!”

Then the alarm bell rang again.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 6a: Choosing Where to Fight is as Important as When*

“Harvesters!” shouted Yvigne’.

They rushed outside to witness a heart-stopping sight: Harvesters, scores of them upon flying disks, hovering high above the archway.  

A booming voice from the lead Ymandrake said, “Surrender the Elorii or prepare to be harvested!”

Augustus turned to Quintus.  “You are the only ones who have been true to me and mine.  We will handle these monsters, but I must entrust you with the safety of my son.  Take him and hide as best you can.”

“If, by my life or death I can protect him, I will,” said Quintus. “You have my spear.”

“And my sword,” said Vlad.  

They looked to Kham.  “Fine, fine, and my pistols too.”

“Thank you,” said the senator.  “He is in the building nearest the Gravel Pits.  May the Gods bless you and keep you.”

Quintus bowed low and took off at a sprint.

“Oh, you’re just loving this, aren’t you,” said Kham, catching up to him.  “Got a plan?”

“Yes,” said Quintus. He kicked open the door to the building open with one foot.  The boy lay unconscious in one corner of the room. 

In the distance, something exploded and someone screamed.

Vlad stood in the doorway.  “We’ve got two Harvesters following us. And…”

“And?” asked Kham, throwing back his overcoat to draw two pistols.  

“Something else.  I’m not sure, but they’re not quite human.”

Quintus scooped Cassicus up and ran past Vlad towards the gravel pit.

“What are you doing?” asked Kham, jogging behind him into the pit.

Quintus placed the boy down beside him and dug his shield into the gravel, such that it stood between Cassicus and the Harvesters.  Then the legionnaire used his longspear to trace a wide circle around them. “We make our stand here.”

Vlad stood in front of Quintus shield, his own shield and longsword at the ready.

“That’s it?  That’s the plan?  You’re going to stand out here in the open like a big, fat target?”

“If what Yvigne’ said is true, the gravel will protect us from their spells,” said Quintus.

“And what if she’s a spy like the rest of them?” asked Kham.

“Then we will die with honor,” said Quintus.  Kham knew that look.  It meant Quintus was committed and would never change his mind.

“Tell you what,” said Kham.  “You three can die with honor out here in the dirt, and I’m going to shoot at people from over there,” he ran low to hide behind a wall of honey pots near the edge of the pit.


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 6b: Choosing Where to Fight is as Important as When*

Quintus' gaze was focused on the two things that came shambling into the pit.  Their hands were missing: one was replaced by sharpened bone shaped like a blade, the other a large, wide plate of bone in the form of a shield.  Fleshy tentacles ringed their torsos.  The creatures had indentations where their mouths, eyes, and ears would be, but where otherwise featureless mockeries of humanity.

“We are more powerful united than apart,” said Quintus. He lowered his spear as the things charged.

“Don’t bother,” said Vlad.  “Kham’s out of earshot.

Then the two Ymandragoran thralls were upon them.  Vlad leaned low and struck at one of the things legs.  He was rewarded with the thrall’s screech of agony.  Tentacles billowed towards his face, but the thing was slapped aside by Quintus.

Vlad didn’t have time to thank his companion at arms. The second thrall swung a wide arc at Vlad, forcing him to skip back a step as the other rose to its feet.  

Quintus didn’t give it the chance to get far.  He pierced it through the leg with his longspear.

“I can hold this one,” said Quintus through gritted teeth, “but not for long!”

KA-BLAM! Kham fired at one of the Harvesters but missed.

To Kham’s surprise, there was a resounding retort from the Harvester.  Pots exploded all around him, drenching him in honey.

“Son of a BITCH!” shouted Kham.  “You ruined my new coat!”

Vlad parried another swing and then rammed the thrall with his shield.  Tentacles waved around the edges.  

“Ahh!” shouted Vlad.  He let go of his shield, pushing the thrall off balance.  It fell backwards and Vlad stabbed it through the head before it could rise.

Kham rolled out from behind the honey pots and ran towards a nearby shed at the edge of the pits.  The male Harvester chanted something, and a glob of acid sizzled into Kham’s flesh. Or would have, if he wasn’t covered in honey.

Some of the honey sloughed off of him.  “Thanks,” Kham shouted.  He slogged forward, catching dust and debris all over his honey-caked feet. “Now if you could just take care of my boots…”

Vlad yanked the shield out of the thing’s death grip, only to bring it up just in time as the second thrall swung at his head.  

Quintus pointed at the female Harvester.  “Jump!” he shouted.  At over thirty feet in the air, a jump from her flying disk would surely be fatal.  It didn’t work.

“Weak magic,” said the woman.  “Let me demonstrate true power: magicus telum!”

The magical bolt sizzled into Quintus’ chest, causing him to growl in pain.  He dropped his spear and drew his gladius.

“Face the Blinding Light of Illiir!” shouted Quintus, pointing at the female Harvester with the tip of his blade.  A bright glowing gladius appeared in midair near the woman and swung at her head.  Her flying disk moved her out of the way just in time.

“Lubrico!” said the male Harvester.  A puddle of greasy liquid appeared before Kham.

Kham hopped into the slick of oil and, keeping his arms out for balance, slid through it with ease.  Honey fell off of his boots.

“Thanks,” said Kham.  “Let me come up there and repay you!”


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 6c: Choosing Where to Fight is as Important as When*

Kham grabbed a vial from the many pockets of his coat and took a swig.  With a leap, he easily cleared the ten-foot distance to the top of the roof of the shed. 

Vlad whirled and slashed downwards at the remaining thrall, but it blocked his blow with its shield arm.  He noted in a moment of revulsion that bits of flesh and bone splintered off of the shield when he struck.  The creature wasn’t wielding a shield—it WAS the shield.

Quintus pointed his gladius at the female Harvester again and a piercing beam of white-hot energy sliced through her shoulder.  

The male Harvester turned and fired again at Kham.  KA-BLAM!  It just missed him, taking out part of the roof Kham stood on.

With a final blow, the thrall went down.  Vlad hacked at it a few more times until its tentacles stopped writhing.

“Vlad,” said Quintus, “hit the male Harvester, he’s the leader!”

“With what?” said Vlad.  He had no ranged weapons on him.

”Anything!” shouted Quintus. He turned to point at the female harvester. “Illiir judges you guilty of harvesting innocent souls!” shouted the legionnaire.  “Suffer His wrath!” 

The female harvester burst into golden flames even as the glowing gladius winked out of existence.  

The male Harvester chanted “tergus lapideu” and was rewarded with the sound of cracking stone. His skin turned slate gray.

Kham drew a bead on the male Harvester but lifted his pistol after the spell was cast. “Great,” he said.  “I may as well be shooting a statue.”  He needed another target. 

The woman flew by, her disk spinning crazily as she writhed in pain from Quintus’ divine rage.  “That’ll do.” 

With a KA-BLAM! Kham ended her suffering. She screamed and fell of her disk, crunching to the ground thirty feet below.

Kham peered over the edge of the shed.  “Ouch,” he said.

When he looked up, the male Harvester hovered before him.  “I sense much power within you,” he said. The harvester bared a row of sharpened teeth.  “You will make for an excellent harvest.”

There was a loud CRACK! And a piece of magic-suppressing gravel ricocheted off of the bottom of the Harvester’s disk.  He whirled, but the disk’s magical energy sputtered and failed, plunging him to the ground.

Kham waved at Vlad. “Nice shot,” he said. 

“He’s getting up,” said Quintus.  “Careful.”

The Harvester slowly rose to his feet. His skin no longer looked like stone, but he was otherwise unharmed. The Harvester dusted himself off and stalked towards the center of the pit. 

“Kham, get down here!” shouted Quintus.

“Yes,” said the Harvester as he rolled up his sleeves. “Come die with the rest of the fools.”

“Take him Vlad,” said Quintus.

Vlad needed no further direction.  He stepped up to the Harvester, sword and shield at the ready.

“Fuco aspergo!” 

“Ah, crap,” Kham said as the coruscating cone of colors washed over Vlad.  He drew two more pistols as Quintus crouched low behind his shield.

Vlad collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

“You’re out of tricks, priest,” said the Harvester.  “And now it’s time for you to show me what you’ve been hiding behind that shield. Lamia attrecto!” One of the Harvester’s hands glowed with a sickly green radiance.

“I’m not a priest,” said Quintus.  He ducked the Harvester’s outstretched hand and plunged his gladius deep into the Harvester’s chest. “I am…” he shoved it deeper with both hands on the hilt, “…a legionnaire!”

The Harvester fell off Quintus’ blade.  The legionnaire helped Vlad to his feet.

From Kham’s vantage point, he was able to make out the last of the Harvesters being dropped out of the sky by a huge fireball.  There was a resounding cheer from the surviving mages.

Yvigne’ ran up to the edge of the pit.  “The Elorii has asked us to convene a Council at once,” she said.  “Follow me!”

Quintus scooped up the boy again and walked calmly towards the center of the town.

“You know,” said Vlad, falling into step with Kham, “I don’t think Quintus’ tactics are as crazy as they may seem.”

“He’s a legionnaire,” said Kham, returning his pistols back into their holsters.  “They’re all crazy.”


----------



## talien

*To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 7: A Council Convened*

Cool air rushed out to greet them as soon as the large stone double doors were opened.

As they entered, footsteps echoed on the floor.  The entire room, floors, walls and ceiling were made from a material resembling quartz.  

Yvigne’ and the female Elorii went to one end of the chamber where a small stage with a simple podium had been erected.  Theron and Menet stood on small blue circles upon the floor.  Senator Tensen-Balin held Cassicus, who had regained enough of his strength to be at the proceedings. Following their lead, Kham, Quintus, and Vlad stepped onto blue circles.

Clearing her throat, Yvigne’ spoke to the assembly.  

“Assembled members.  I have convened this hearing because our newly found ally has told me some news that may prove disastrous to our people and way of life.”

“Sounds like she’s right next to me,” said Vlad.

“And in our native tongue,” said Kham. “Haven’t heard Altherin in awhile.”

“As you may have noticed,” said Yvigne, “these blue circles have the ability to allow all to speak and be understood.  Please remain within them. Now please, Sevestia.  Tell them what you told me.”

Holding her head high in the same haughty way that Ilmarė held hers, she began.  “Honored allies, I come here under the most dire of circumstances to ask for your help—not just for my sake, but for the sake of all inhabitants on Onara.”

“Here we go,” said Kham, crossing his arms. “I told you,” he said to Vlad, “end of the world.”

“I was born in captivity on Ymandragore some three hundred years ago and have never left that world until now.  My father was captured by the Sorcerer-King millennia ago at this very site, because he was curious about the immortality that is birthright of all Elorii.  As the years dragged on, he grew weary of father and decided that there was nothing more to be learned from him. After I was born, we were given over to the various Fingers, the organizations that run the Magocracy at the Sorcerer-King’s behest.  Of late, we were given over the Finger called the Society of Ordained Seekers.”

Kham stopped shifting his feet and leaned forward, intrigued.

“While there, my father gained the confidence of the leader of the Ordainers and eventually uncovered the plans of this madman.  He saw that there was no choice but to oppose the Sorcerer-King.  He was able to secure the means to teleport me off the Ordainer’s island and to the mainland.  But just as the spell was cast, the Ordainers broke in and captured my father.”

Theron interrupted. “We have plans of our own,” he said.  “We need only deliver the boy to Ymandragore and let Master Orata’s work be done.”

“You, human, are a fool,” said Sevestia.  “The name of the man who heads the Society of Ordained Seekers is none other than your former master, Lucius Orata.  He spoke at length at the irony of having his very enemies sow the seeds of chaos on the main island of Ymandragore, setting the stage for a coup to topple the Sorcerer-King himself.”

Theron was taken aback, but recovered quickly.  “What do I care who concocted the method?  The end is the same: the destruction of the Sorcerer-King.”

“Do you think it ends there?” said Sevestia.  “He has a plan that, if successful, will make the reign of the Dread Lord seem as nothing.  I will tell you what you need to know to stop him, but first I need something from you.  You must infiltrate the island of Ymandragore and free my father.  That is my price for my information.”

The room was stunned into a silence that lasted for some time.

“Oh great,” said Kham.  “I know where this is going.”

A small, weak voice asked, “but what of me?”

All eyes turned to look at Cassicus.  He pushed weakly away from his father and stood defiantly on his own.  

“Yes,” Theron said slowly.  “Time is running out for the boy. Plans must be made.”

Cassicus straightened up.  “If I am to die regardless, then let my death have meaning.”  He turned to face Augustus.  “Please, father.  Let me die as a true son of Coryan, taking our enemies with us into Beltine’s embrace.”

The senator wrung his hands.  “Faithful legionnaire,” said Augustus to Quintus, “what is your counsel?”

“Today, Cassicus is a boy,” said Quintus, tears in his eyes.  He turned to Augustus.  “But he will die a man. We will see this to the end.” He put one arm across his chest and bowed towards the senator. “I swear upon it.”

“It is done then,” said Cassicus.  “I will meet my final days with my hands around our enemy’s throat.  I will make our ancestors proud, father.”

Kham coughed into one fist.

“I know a way to accomplish both ends,” said Sevestia.  “During my time with the Dread Lord, I learned of a number of bases used by the Harvesters to secure their ill-gotten goods.  They are hidden by powerful sorcery and are undetectable by ordinary means.  I will direct you to one of those bases, where you will strike a blow against your enemy and have the opportunity to commandeer one of the Black Ships of Ymandragore.”

The meeting over, the Elorii stepped from the podium and the other mages did likewise.

“I will not ask you to do this with me,” said Quintus to Vlad and Kham.  “It is not your burden to bear.  I completely understand if—“

Vlad held one hand up.  “I’m in,” he said. 

They both turned to Kham, who was busy smoothing his overcoat. He looked up at them.

“I don’t suppose either of you actually know how to sail a ship?”

Vlad and Quintus shook their heads.

“Of course not.  So if there’s any way this mission’s going to be successful, I guess I’d better come along.”

“Glad to have you,” said Vlad with a smile.  He patted Kham on the back.

The Val shrugged him off.  “Please,” he said, walking away. “It’s not that hard a choice.  Besides, Onara’s where I keep all my stuff.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 11: Assault Upon the Gate of Tears*

This is the first round of hard point 6 in Year 1 of the tournament module, "Assault Upon the Gate of Tears," written by Henry Lopez and Nelson Rodriguez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Quintus Ingatius (human clr4) played by Michael Tresca: http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Vlad Martell (human ftr3) played by Matt Hammer
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Holden Ash’ur (human ranger/wizard) played by Robert Taylor: http://www.storyboardz.net 

Sean Smith was Dungeon Master for this session, allowing Rob to play along side us as the Milandisian grenadier known as Holden.  

This scenario was our first battle interactive and it went…poorly.  We tried to purchase as many scrolls and potions as we could to prepare, but you have to think strategically to use those items.  We didn’t always remember to heal at the right times or not stand in the line of fire. 

We learned a few things in this adventure though, and we learned them the hard way.  For one, firing into combat sucks (-4 penalty without Precise Shot).  For another, standing in a line is a bad, bad, BAD idea when you’re facing down a sorcerer with lightning bolt. And finally, never, ever put on the first ring you find.

A tough game, but it makes for an amusing story hour. And this is only the first half!


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Prologue*

It had been mere days since they valiantly defended a Sanctorum of the Arcane hidden away in an ancient ruined city somewhere in the Hinterlands.  Since that time, Y’vigne and Master Ecor contacted other Sanctorum across Onara, asking for assistance in a critical push against the Harvesters of Ymandragore and the machinations of the leader of the Ordainers, the traitor Lucious Orata.

“You came here awful fast,” said Kham with a smirk to his Elorii companion.  “I didn’t think you cared for the fate of humans.”

Ilmarė whirled to face the Val, her silver-and-purple tresses whipping behind her.  “This involves more than humans.”

“Oh right,” said Vlad, kicking at the ground.  “Sevestia.  Do you know her?”

“Do you know the name of every human?” asked Ilmarė, her lips pursed.

“Uh…well, no,” said Vlad.

“Then do not assume I know every member of my race,” she said.  

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” asked Kham.

“Elabac summoned Beldin and Sebastian back to Solanos Mor. Something about taking on a new apprentice.”

“And the cat and the lizard?”

“The mission requires stealth,” said Ilmarė.  “In Ymandragore, they would gives us away by their mere presence. Now where is Quintus?”

“In there,” said Kham, pointing a thumb at the tallest of the ruined temples behind him.  “Looks like the elf—the other one—finally decided to share some information about the Harvesters.”

Ilmarė strode past him.  Kham shrugged and nodded to Vlad.  They walked in behind her.

They entered a cold, metal chamber, only to discover that the greatest Arch-Mages of Onara were already present.  Quintus stood solemnly with several other men and women. Sevestia stood with them.

Master Ecor was addressing the assemblage.  “I have been unable to make contact with Master Chivron.  I fear he may have slipped too far to listen to reason.  But I thank those of you who have made the journey.”

“Wow, Master Nevanbe’s here,” said Kham to Vlad.  “We’re finally playing with the big boys.”

“We have the unprecedented opportunity to strike at the very heart of the Harvesters and of Ymandragore itself.  Though I disagree with the method, certain members of the Hawk faction have been unwittingly assisting a former member of our Order, the traitor Orata.  Orata has been revealed to be the head of the Ymandragoran finger known as the Seekers of Ordained Knowledge.”

Ecor went on to explain how Cassicus, Augustus val’Tensen’s son, had been infected with a magical disease that was infectious to sorcerers.  Cassicus would act as a human bomb, to be delivered to infect the whole of the Isle and potentially the Sorcerer-King himself.

“They would infect their own kin,” said Ilmarė in disgust.  “Barbaric.”

Looking contrite, Master Theron took advantage of a pause in Master Ecor’s speech. “Though we are sorry for the manner in which this has played out, it is a golden opportunity to strike at Ymandragore!  The boy himself is resolved to see this through.  He knows he will die regardless from this insidious curse and wishes to die for a reason, not hopeless and helpless in his bed.”

“Then we trade one monster for another?”

All eyes turned to a small man sitting upon an open-air litter.  His ebony legs were frail and contorted in a manner that was painful even to look at.  And yet, his voice was clear and commanding.

“At the very least, the Sorcerer-King is contained upon his rocky perch by the ancient Myrantian Curse.  Would we not be loosening a monster that could then strike with impunity across the land?”

Matching his steely gaze, Master Theron turned to the wizened Altherian Magus.  “No.  Now that we know of his plot, we will teach this Ordainer the folly of using the Hawks as his personal plaything. We will indeed set the boy’s curse upon Ymandragore, but if all goes well, Lucius Orata will not live to enjoy it.” 

Sevestia stepped forward.  “The Ordainers’ base is hidden upon one of the many archipelagoes that surrounds the Isle of Tears. My father has been upon the tiny island many times and can lead a strike team directly down Orata’s throat.”

Shaking his head ruefully, Mater Ecor broke in.  “Though I fear this may be folly, I have no choice but to believe that this may be our best chance for success.  Here is what we have planned: Sevestia gave us the location of a gathering point for the Harvesters operating here in the Hinterlands and nearby nations.  This base is well shielded from prying eyes as well as scrying spells.  This particular gathering point has several escape tunnels strategically placed on the ground above that may allow us access to the base below.”

Gesturing towards the crippled Magus, Master Ecor continues. “Master Nevanbe’ has procured enough blastpowder to destroy these tunnel entrances, ensuring that no Harvesters escape to warn their fellows.  Thus, the first order of business is to sneak down these tunnels and blow up the entrances.”

A man standing next to Quintus stepped forward.  He had black hair, blue eyes, and was dressed in Milandisian attire. A large flintlock rifle was strapped across his back.  “The entrances can be blown up by placing explosives at the base of the second set of wooden braces within the mouth of the tunnel,” he said.

Master Ecor continued. “Then, each strike team will proceed down into the base proper and make their way to the docking port inside a natural cavern that opens up to the sea.  We have contacted the Pearl Maidens and have secured their services in ensuring that no one but our own people escape out that way.”

Sevestia stepped forward again.  “As best as I can recall, the way to the cove is almost directly south of the escape tunnels.  Keep on that course and you should be able to make your way to the docks with ease.” 

There was some murmuring amongst the motley band of mercenaries, criminals, pirates and professional adventurers that had been assembled.  

“One other thing,” said Sevestia.  “Each Black Ship captain has a ring that commands those Infernals bound in the galley below.  You must take the ring and command the demons to row out to the Pearl Maidens’ waiting ship so that the second stage of the assault can begin.”

“Of course, should you come across any vital pieces of information or an opportunity to cause even more problems for the Ymandrakes, feel free,” said Master Ecor, coughing into one fist.  “Just keep in mind that the primary objective is to capture that ship!”

Kham smiled broadly at Quintus from across the room. “I knew you would need me on this mission!”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gates of Tears - Part 1a: Into the Breach*

The long trek from the Lost City of Balamshal to the southern coast of the Hinterlands had been arduous and taxing.  

Vlad was visibly sweating in his Nierite full plate.  He had painted it black, but nicks and scratches on the armor showed the red underneath, giving the armor the unpleasant impression that it was bleeding.  

“I didn’t realize,” he huffed, “we’d have to travel this far.”

“Stop complaining,” said Kham, sweating beside him.  “This armor is really uncomfortable.” Kham had traded in his traditional overcoat for Sicarite leather armor from a passing caravan of Yhing Hir traders.  It was made of interlocked, water-shrunk leather plates tailored over a stiff bamboo framework that allowed more freedom of movement. 

Vlad just shook his head in disbelief. 

“Besides,” added Kham, “I’m carrying all this blastpowder.”

Vlad blinked.  “Won’t you explode?”

“Only if you light it,” said an unfamiliar voice behind them.  It was the other Milandisian, Holden Ash’ur. He had a belt of grenades slung over one shoulder.  

Kham glanced sideways at him.  “Yeah, right.  We’re not going through any portals.  It’d be a lot easier for the Arch Mages to teleport us to the destination, but the explosion would have destroyed the other half of what’s left of Balamshal.”

“For once, pay less attention to your powder horns and more to your vials and scrolls,” said Quintus, marching stoically ahead of them. He showed no signs of fatigue, even though they had been walking for hours.  “The Arch Mages were kind enough to share their magic, but it does us no good if we do not know when and how to use it.”

“Share?” asked Kham.  “I’m nearly broke from buying all this stuff.  I wouldn’t want them to give us any supplies for free.  It’s not like we’re saving the world or anything.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” asked Ilmarė in irritation.  

“Speaking of not talking,” said Kham, “what’s up with you and Quintus?”

The corner of Ilmarė’s mouth twitched.  “He believes he is going to die. He did not want me to come.”

“We’re all going to die,” said Holden.  “Just a matter of whether you get to choose the time and place.”

Kham looked at Vlad accusingly. “Are all Milandisians that cheery?” 

“Don’t look at me, he’s a clerk from the Shining Patrol,” said Vlad. “I’m just a conscript,” he took a swig from his wineskin. “We know how to have fun.”

They had arrived at their destination: a small rocky plain dotted with boulders.  Six other teams stood around, preparing themselves for the bloody task ahead. Master Theron stood, pointing at one of the boulders.

“A clerk,” said Quintus, deciding to engage in conversation again.  “I ask for the best men in the Empire and Milandir sends a clerk to join us?”

“Isn’t a signifer the equivalent of like, a Coryani accountant?” Kham asked innocently to Qutinus’ black.

Theron struck the ground behind the rock, dispelling the illusion.  Only a black, gaping maw of a tunnel was left behind.  He repeated the gesture six times and then, with a final nod, teleported away to a waiting ship somewhere off the coast.

“I may be a clerk,” said Holden, hefting a satchel full of scrolls, “but I know explosives better than anybody.  I’m also a grenadier.”


“And I am a legionnaire,” said Quintus.  “Let us hope between us that we have skills enough to survive. This day, we will perform acts of unparalleled bravery,” said Quintus, stepping down into the tunnel entrance. 

“Or utmost stupidity,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 1b: Into the Breach*

“Okay, we’re going to have to be at least fifty feet away when the blackpowder blows,” said Holden.

“How long will we have?” asked Quintus.

“Ten seconds, give or take.”

“Give or take?” asked Kham.  “Listen, my people invented blastpowder.  You don’t mess with this. We’ve got to blow this behind us, right?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “That’s to keep them from the Harvesters from escaping.”

“I don’t suppose any of you figured out that we’re sealing ourselves IN with those crazies?”

“The thought did cross my mind,” said Ilmarė.  

Quintus started picking up barrels of blackpowder.  “Let’s get to work then.”

“Fine,” said Kham.  “You stack the explosive stuff and I’ll make sure that the way is clear.” He pulled two pistols out from his bandolier.  “Coming Vlad?”

Vlad looked back and forth between Kham and Quintus.  

“Go with him,” said Quintus.  “We can handle this.”

Ilmarė dusted her hands. “I’d rather go with Kham than deal with this disgusting powder,” she said. 

Quintus turned his back on her and resumed stacking the powder kegs.

“Man, he really pissed at you,” said Kham as he edged his way into the darkness.  “I’ve never seen Quintus so angry.”

“It’s not anger,” said Ilmarė, turning to face Vlad.  “It’s human stubbornness.  No man tells me what to do.”

Vlad blinked as Ilmarė placed her hands on his wooden shield.  She whispered something in Elorii and the shield began to glow with a soft purple light. 

“Whoa,” said Vlad.  “Does my shield have any special powers now?”

“Yes,” said Ilmarė.  “It grants you the power of sight.  You will be useless to me stumbling around in the darkness here.”

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” said Kham, pointing behind her.

“Why?” asked Ilmarė.  She turned to look.

Three faceless humanoids stood mutely before them, their torsos ringed with tentacles.  One arm was shaped into a blade, the other like a shield, an insane mockery of normal soldiers sculpted of flesh and bone.

“Oh,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 1c: Into the Breach*

“Quuuuintuuuuuus!” shouted Kham from the darkness. 

Quintus finished stacking another powder keg.  “What is it?” he shouted back.

“Tentacles and bones!” said Kham, skidding out of the tunnel into the ambient light of the cavern mouth. 

Quintus grabbed his spear and shield.  “I know how to deal with those.”

“Good!” said Kham.  “I don’t.  I’ll uh…” he looked at Holden, who was holding a powder keg in both hands.  “I’ll help stack the explosives back here.  Besides, I’m an Altherian, I know about these things.”

With a shout of “letum infernus!” Quintus plunged headlong into the darkness. Kham ran past him in the other direction.

He came upon a desperate scene.  Vlad was on the ground along with one of the Ymandragoran thralls.  The big man was ramrod stiff, a grimace frozen on his face. 

“Quintus, look out!” said Ilmarė.  

One of the thralls bent over as if wheezing.  Then it arched backwards, launching a string of entrail-like tentacles at Quintus’ head.  He lifted his shield just in time to stop the blow.

“Be careful,” said Ilmarė, slashing at the shield of the other thrall.  “If that tentacle hits you it will para—“

The Elorii fell over in mid-sentence as the second thrall’s tentacle snapped back into its body cavity.

Quintus put his right side to the tunnel wall as the two thralls advanced on him, hissing and snapping.  The tentacles fired out repeatedly from their torso, snatching at any limb they could grab.  He was trapped.

There was a loud KA-BLAM! and the head of one of the thralls exploded into pulp.  When the other turned to watch its companion fall, Quintus skewered the thing with his longspear.

“Nice shot, Kham,” said Quintus.  He stepped over to attend to the Elorii. 

“You’re welcome,” said Holden with a smile.  He lowered his still smoking rifle and holstered it across his back once more.  

Kham ran past them both.  “Grab somebody and run!” he shouted.  “I just lit the fuse!”

Quintus picked up Ilmarė and Holden grabbed Vlad.

“Is he always this impulsive?” asked Holden.

The deafening boom behind them drowned out Quintus’ response.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 2a: A Fork in the Road*

With the entrance sealed, the passage had become very dark and claustrophobic.  Dust swirled around them, making breathing difficult.  

“I wish you had waited to let me place the charges a bit better,” said Holden as a trickle of dirt fell from the ceiling. “If the ceiling collapses, we’ll be buried alive.”

“Hey, I saw two people down and Quintus by himself,” said Kham. “I made a command decision.”

The passageway sloped down at a gentle angle for a good 300 yards until the dirt passage leveled off and became paved in a strange, spongy and porous stone.  It continued like that for another 50 feet before a light could be seen spilling out from somewhere ahead.  

“Great,” said Vlad.  He flexed his limbs a few times to shake off the paralysis of the thralls. “Now what?”

A series of metal bars barred the way, fifteen in all.  They ran sideways, from wall to wall.

“Too bad the big, angry lizard isn’t here,” said Kham.  “We could just point him at the bars and stand back.”

“The big, angry what?” asked Holden.

“It’s a long story,” said Ilmarė. 

Vlad glanced down at his belt.  He had acquired several vials from the Arcanum. With one hand, he flicked the cork off one of the vials and gulped its contents.

“What are you doing?” asked Quintus.

Vlad blinked and took a deep breath.  A vein in his forehead began to pulse.  There was the sound of creaking leather.

“Are you making that noise?” Holden asked of Vlad.  

The big warrior was too preoccupied with the newfound strength surging through his veins.  The potion tasted like bull’s sweat, but the rush was worth it.

“Magic,” said Vlad, gasping.  He walked over to the bars.

“Vlad, wait.  Those bars might be—“ said Ilmarė. 

His armor creaking from the strain of extra muscle bulging beneath it, Vlad gripped two bars and wrenched them apart.  Sparks of electricity arced around him; to his companions’ metal weapons, to other bars, and most of all his full plate armor.  When he didn’t release the bars, Quintus slapped him aside with his spear.  Vlad finally let go, his teeth gritted and his limbs twitching from the blast of energy.

The electrical current left both men blackened and smoking on the ground.

“—trapped.” said Ilmarė.

“That was an excellent imitation of Cal,” said Kham with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 2b: A Fork in the Road*

The cavernous chamber was circular in shape. Cages of all sizes stood silent and empty, a grim reminder of the fate of those who fell prey to the Ymandrakes. There were three obvious passages from the room to the south, southeast, and southwest.

“Looks like it was used as a staging area for those who were about to be Harvested,” said Holden.

The chamber was lit by undecipherable glyphs embedded at strategic locations upon the spongy walls.  Their pale yellow glow cast a sickly gloom. At the far end, near the southeastern passage, a metal cabinet stood alone.

“Careful,” said Quintus, shield up and spear out.

“Oh for crying out loud.” Kham walked over to the cabinet and opened it up. It was a large affair with drawers.  

“Let’s see,” said Kham, throwing things out behind him.  “Some manacles,” chains fell to the ground. “Couple of scroll cases.”  Three scroll cases fell to his feet.  “Now this is interesting.”

Kham held up a plain golden ring.  “You need a ring to command the Ymandragore ships, right?”

“Yes,” said Quintus, “but you don’t know—“

Kham slipped the ring on the middle finger of his right hand and admired it.  “Nice.  I wonder how much it will sell…” Another ring appeared on the middle finger of his left hand. “Cute, a matching pair,” he said.  Then his amusement turned to horror as the two rings slowly forced themselves together.  With a loud SNAP! Kham’s hands were forced into a praying position.

“Praying to Althares?” asked Quintus.

“My fingers…they’re stuck!” said Kham.

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you put it on,” said Ilmarė.  

“This is not funny!” said Kham, his voice rising in panic.  “I need my hands! I can’t shoot without them!”

“Here, let me try,” said Vlad.  He struggled to wrench Kham’s hands together but only succeeded in separating them by a few inches.  Then they snapped back together again.

“You, whatever your name is,” said Kham to Holden.  “You know how to use a pistol, right?”

“Well, I’m really more of a rifleman, but—“

“Shoot my fingers off,” said Kham, his tone deadly serious.

“Kham I don’t think that’s going to work,” said Quintus.  “Your pistols are not very precise.”

“It’ll work,” said Kham, his forehead beading with sweat.  “Just shoot them off.  Come on, do it!”

Holden began rummaging through his scrolls.

“There’s no weapons in there,” said Kham.  “Just take one of my pistols from my holster.  Do it!”

Quintus stepped forward between them.  “Calm down.  There’s got to be a better way.”

“There is no better way!” shouted Kham.  “I’m stuck in this insane place without access to my pistols.  I’m as good as dead like this!”

“He’s right,” said Ilmarė.  “I’ve got a knife.  I can saw his fingers off.”

Vlad put one hand on Kham’s shoulder.  “I think you should take a deep breath.”

“No!  You take a deep breath!” shouted Kham.  “I’ve got to get these things off fast! It’s the only way! You, grab one of my pistols and—“

“Lubricus!” shouted Holden, reading from a scroll.

Kham’s hands were covered in a strange, slippery substance.  Kham struggled for a moment, and then the two rings slipped off his fingers and onto to the cavern floor with a tinkle.

The Val shook the goo off his hands.  Without saying another word, Kham stalked off down the southern passage.  

A muffled explosion boomed behind them.

“Another of the strike teams has collapsed a tunnel,” said Holden. “We’d better get moving.”

“Well,” said Quintus, “south it is.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 3: The Bridge is Out*

The passage went down a ways before opening up into a small chamber.  It had a wide and fast moving underground stream slicing through it. 

“I don’t have time for this,” muttered Kham.

The stream was 40 paces wide and the current flowed quickly and violent through it from one of the chamber to another.  The passage would normally not have been a problem, as a wide, wooden footbridge had been built to cross over it. But someone had destroyed the center portion of the bridge.

“Freaking Ymandragorans,” Kham said, pulling out a length of rope.

Only ten feet of each side of the bridge remained.  The current was so forceful that it rattled the cavern.  Kham could feel it through his feet.

He tied a rope to one end of the bridge.  Then he took ten steps backwards.  Then twenty.  With a running start, he hurled himself across the chasm, landing on his feet on the other side of the bridge.  

Kham turned and speared his scimitar into the soft earth of the tunnel.  He tied the other end of the rope to the hilt.

“I want my scimitar back, Quintus!” he shouted over his shoulder.

And then, still muttering curses to himself, Kham stalked off down the passage.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4a: Inner Conspiracies*

Kham stopped at a large door, more ornate than any of the others along the corridor.  Blast burns lined the walls, indicating that perhaps one of the other strike teams passed that way already. He could hear voices conferring in hushed tones.

The Val craned his neck to listen. 

“We have little time to conclude this.  My Master believes the Harvesters sent to capture the boy have failed, as no word has come from them.  But his plans are too far along to postpone them now.”

A sibilant voice responded.  “Master Orata’s plans are known to us, Commandant.  Should he succeed…”

The other cut him off.  “…your people will know power undreamed of.  Help us at this critical juncture and you will be the savior of your race.”

After a moment, the other voice responded.  “Agreed.  We will send our most talented.  I have already seen to the neutralization of the mold.  Gemellus Pravus will not live to see the next morning.”

“Excellent.  With his death blamed on one of the other Fingers, Ymandragore will be awash in paranoia as rivalries turn into bloody war.”

“I have agents assembled, ready to assist your servant,” said the softer voice. “How will we know who to assist?”

“You shall know him,” the other voice said cryptically, “by his smile.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4b: Inner Conspiracies*

Quintus walked up to Kham and in his usual booming voice, said, “Here’s your scimitar back. What have you discovered?”

Kham put one finger to his lips. Then he put two fingers up and pointed at the door.

Something heavy thudded on the other side of the door.  

“They’ve heard us,” said Ilmarė. “It sounds like furniture is being moved.”

Kham shook his head at Quintus.  “Do you have to shout everything?”

“What?” boomed Quintus.  “This is my usual speaking voice.”

“No help for it now,” said Vlad.  “I’m going in!”

He kicked the door open and charged forward, only to discover an antechamber with another door half-open.

Vlad ran up to it and peered in. A long corridor opened into a larger room.  “I don’t see anyone inside, but the desk is turned over.”

“Something’s wrong,” said Ilmarė, standing hesitantly at the first door.  

Quintus ducked in behind Vlad, shield up.  “I don’t see anyone either.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s no one here,” said Holden, taking up a position to the left of the second door with rifle in hand.

Kham shrugged.  “I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this damned place.”  He disappeared out of sight down the hall.

“Fulgur sagitta!”

There was a horrible pop as a bolt of lightning tore its way through the corridor.  Quintus hunkered down behind his shield, but the electrical energy blasted right through him.

When his vision cleared, Vlad was leaning against the corridor, smoke billowing up from his armor.  Quintus had managed to avoid the brunt of the blast thanks to his shield.  Holden fired back into the room with his rifle at the unseen attacker. Vlad stumbled backwards.  Someone ducked behind the overturned desk.

“Well,” said Quintus, rising to his feet.  “There’s definitely somebody in there.”

“We’ve got to press him!” shouted Vlad.  “Quintus, come on!” With gritted teeth, the warrior spun back into the corridor and charged down it.

“Ilmarė, Holden, cover us!” shouted Quintus.

Holden was busy reloading his rifle but he grunted in affirmation.  There was no sound from Ilmarė.

A cold, hard knot fell to the bottom of Quintus’ stomach.  He looked over his shoulder.

“Ilmarė…?”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4c: Inner Conspiracies*

Kham came skidding to a halt in front of a scene of total carnage.  Inside the room, Quintus stood frozen, torn between attending to the fallen Elorii in the hall or joining the battle further beyond the antechamber.

Ilmarė lay just outside of the doorway, her flesh still smoking from the blast.

“Whoa,” said Kham.  “I’m gone a minute and you lose the elf?”

“Kham…” Quintus croaked, tears in his eyes. 

“Go do what you do best,” said Kham.  He crouched down to get a better look at Ilmarė’s wounds.  “I’ll take care of her.”

The elf’s delicate features were contorted in pain.  Ilmarė’s right hand was a blackened claw.  Her left arm had a wound where the electricity had jumped out of her flesh.  The leather on her thighs was blackened, with two burn wounds bigger than Kham’s fist.  It was bad.  

But she was still breathing.  Kham cradled Ilmarė’s head in the crook of his elbow and lifted a healing potion to her lips.  

The liquid trickled over cracked lips and onto her teeth.  Kham was amazed any of the potion made it into her throat.

The blackened wounds started to close.  Ilmarė convulsed and coughed.  Her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey baby,” said Kham, smiling down at her.  She was inches from his face. “Come here often?”

Ilmarė slapped him with her good hand.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4d: Inner Conspiracies*

“Letum infernus!” shouted Quintus, charging ahead with his shield and spear raise.

Vlad was ahead of him as the resounding CRACK! of Holden’s rifle echoed in his ear.  The bullet sparked off of the now-visible wizard’s head as if it had struck stone. The Ymandrake wore thick dark robes and a golden circlet about his brow.

“You are either very brave,” said the Ymandrake, “or very stupid. Magicus telum!”

The Ymandrake was crouched behind a heavy, inlaid desk that he had flipped over. Shearing bolts of black energy sliced into Vlad.  It spun the big man sideways.  He gasped in pain.

“He’s enchanted his skin,” said Holden.  “I can’t hurt him!”

“I’ll take care of this personally,” said Quintus with a snarl.

He hopped up on the desk.  It was littered with recently burned scraps of paper.  Quintus speared downward, the tip of his weapon skittering across the Ymandrake’s upraised arm.

“Fool,” he hissed.  “You cannot harm me!  Magicus telum!”

The spiraling bolts tore right through Quintus’ shield and into his chest.  He fell backwards off the desk, dazed from the pain.

Vlad rose to his feet as the Ymandrake stepped out from behind the desk.  

“You don’t know when to give up, do you?” asked the Ymandrake.  “Let me convince you: fulgur sagitta!” 

The wizard extended both hands and bolts of lightning sheared from his hands.  It sparked across the room, sizzling through Vlad and arching towards Quintus.  Vlad, trapped in his plate armor, fell to the ground.  Smoke rose from his unconscious form.

Quintus’ hand twitched as the electricity flowed up his spear and into his arm.  It exited out his other hand, through his shield.  He dropped both, numb.

“Have you had enough?” the Ymandrake asked, dusting himself off.  “Or shall we continue this folly while the place falls around us?”

Holden kept his rifle trained on the Ymandrake.  “Your call,” he said to Quintus.

Quintus stepped over to Vlad.  He was still breathing.  

“Let him go,” said Quintus. 

“Pathetic,” sneered the Ymandrake.  He leaped onto one wall like a fly and stuck there.  “This place will be your grave.” 

Quintus met his gaze.  “Mark my words,” he said, “there will be a reckoning.”

The Ymandrake laughed.  “Then I shall reckon with you another time,” he said.  From his perch on the wall, he vaulted over Holden’s head and out through the corridor.

A few seconds later, Kham poked his head in.  “Now I’ve seen everything,” he said.  “Some guy ran past us. On the ceiling.” He dragged Ilmarė into the room and closed the door with his heel.  

Quintus was visibly relieved.  “Ilmarė!” He turned to Kham.  “Is she all right?”

Kham rubbed his chin.  “She’s her old self again. Listen, I don’t mean to break up this happy reunion, but we’ve got bigger problems.”

“Like what?” asked Holden.

Something heavy slammed into the door of the antechamber.  A chorus of angry shouts accompanied it.

“Like that,” said Kham.

After checking on Ilmarė, Quintus saw to Vlad’s wounds.  

“Vlad’s not going to be enough,” said Kham. He drew two pistols and ran behind the overturned desk.  “I counted over ten of them out there.”

Quintus pulled out a satchel full of scrolls.

“What are you doing?” asked Holden. 

“Calling for reinforcements,” said Quintus.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 5a: To Take a Black Ship*

“Break down that door!” shouted Dinvinatos Salavinto, a woman garbed in dark robes.

The sailors continued to pound on the door to the antechamber.  

“This is insane,” said Solano De’laventas. He was obviously a dark-kin, his skin resembling wet paper, peeling and sloughing off at his slightest movement. “I don’t care what the Commandant said, we should just bury them here.”

“They have access to the mirror,” said Dinvinatos.  “And the papers.  Vladimir did not destroy them all before he left.”

“You expect me to risk the lives of my men for papers?”

“Those documents contain the names of a few Ymandrake agents working in secret in Milandir and the Coryani Empire,” she said.  She left out that they also contained lists of all the men, women and children processed through the base in the past year.

The captain grunted as Dinvinatos chanted, “tenebrae!” 

Darkness engulfed them.  Only dark-kin could see through it.  Solano charged forward as the door broke down.

The baying of a wolf pack reached their ears.

“Did I just hear wolves?” asked one of the sailors. 

Then the captain shouted a command and they plunged through the darkness into the room beyond.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 5b: To Take a Black Ship*

“Where the hell did those things come from?” asked Kham, marveling at the slathering wolves that bounded into the darkness. 

“You are correct,” said Quintus, watching the pack of jet-black canines tear into the sailors.  Screams of confusion and horror erupted from the darkness. They barked and yipped as they attacked, and their panting sounded suspiciously like laughter. “They are Illiir’s Hounds of War.”

After a couple of yelps from wounded wolves, four sailors spilled out into the room.  With a shout, Vlad waded into the melee.

“He’s surrounded!” said Kham, taking aim at one of the sailors.

“No he’s not,” said Holden. His rifle was slung over one shoulder.  He pointed both palms at the sailors.  “Fuco aspergo!”

A coruscating cone of colors washed over the sailors.  They collapsed to a man.

“Nice job, Sebastian,” said Kham.  “I don’t suppose you can cast any of those lightning spells.”

“No,” said Holden.  “That’s why I have this.” He snatched up his rifle again and aimed it at the doorway.

The entire room shook.  Pieces of the ceiling fell to the ground around them. 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” said Quintus.

The globe of darkness retreated down the hall.  “Forget the papers!” shouted someone at the other end. “Seal them in!”

Quintus rose to his feet.  “Time to go! Kham, Holden, fire on my command.”

Holden took up a position next to Kham and aimed at the door. Kham held both cocked pistols at the ready.

“Vlad, after they fire, you and I will clear a path.”  Quintus and Vlad stepped to either side of the doorway. “Ilmarė, you follow behind.”

Ilmarė rose to her feet.  “You don’t tell me what to—“

“Fire!” shouted Quintus.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 5c: To Take a Black Ship*

With a final turn, the passageway they’d been following opened up at last to the docks.  The brackish smell of the briny sea battled for dominance with the acrid odors from expended blastpowder and the burning ozone residue of lightning spells. 

“Some of the teams made it!” said Holden.  Far fewer grizzled adventurers that had stood with them at Balamshal remained.  The survivors were heavily engaged with the sailors that crewed the Black Ships. 

“Where are all the ships?” asked Vlad.

The cove was huge. All about, a few of the black ships were listing badly, with one in particular mere moments away from becoming a fixture on the sea floor.

“There!” shouted Ilmarė.  

There was an unmanned ship close by, its crew decimated by the attack in the Harvester lair.

Quintus took one final looked around.  None of the other teams were near the ship.  

“It’s up to us,” said Quintus.  “Let their sacrifice not be in vain.”

And then with a roar, Quintus charged towards the ship.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Conclusion*

In the hold of the Black Ship, demonic beings sat on benches, chained to each other.  As soon as Kham entered, they rose to their feet.

“You are not Ymandrake!” one hissed.  It was massive, easily as wide as a man’s height.  “I will rip you in half and be free of this place!”

Kham held one hand up.  A single gold ring sparkled in the dim light of the hold.  The demon sat down immediately.

“What is your bidding, master?” it snarled.

“Row,” said Kham.  “Row as if your lives depend on it!”

“And if we don’t?” asked another demon.

Kham glared at him.  “I was being nice.  Your lives depend on it. Now row!”

The ship lurched ahead, entering the open ocean.  There, they saw the proud ship known as the Way of the Pearl holding the line of the mouth of the cove, two sinking Black Ships a testimony to their prowess in battle.

Kham commanded the Infernals in the hold to guide the ship up to the Pearl Maiden’s vessel.  Y’vigne and Master Ecor were on the prow, waving enthusiastically.

Quintus and Holden stood atop the Black Ship’s deck, staring out at the chaos they left behind them.  No one else had made it; a few other Black Ships had attempted to sail out but were sunk.

“For the first time in the history of Onara,” said Holden, “the Arcane has found and wiped out a nest of Harvesters upon the shores.  We finally brought the battle to them.”

Cheers went up from the other ship as the Black Ship moved closer.

“The commandant got away,” said Quintus. “The celebration is premature.  What we have accomplished here is only a small step to our greater goal.”  

Vlad lowered a plank between the two ships as sailors lashed the vessels together.  

“Come,” said Quintus.  “We have much to do if we are to defeat Lucious Orata’s plans.” 

“Is he always this cheerful?” asked Holden to no one in particular.

“Always,” said Ilmarė, staring after Quintus’ back.  “But we wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

Then she followed him onto the Way of the Pearl.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears (Part 2) - Introduction*

This is the second round of hard point 6 in Year 1 of the tournament module, "Assault Upon the Gate of Tears," written by Henry Lopez and Nelson Rodriguez and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Quintus Ingatius (human clr4) played by Michael Tresca: http://michael.tresca.net 
·	Vlad Martell (human ftr3) played by Matt Hammer
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Holden Ash’ur (human ranger/wizard) played by Robert Taylor: http://www.storyboardz.net 

Sean Smith was Dungeon Master for this session, allowing Rob to play along side us as the Milandisian grenadier known as Holden.  

We played these two rounds back to back. Hopping from one adventure, which was a pure hack-and-slash survival-fest, to one of intrigue took a bit of adjusting.  

Quintus did some role reversal with Kham, being the more talkative of the two.  At this point the plans started to seem a bit suicidal. The party bought into stealing a ship, dropping off the boy-bomb, and rescuing the old elf.  Stopping an assassination attempt seemed a little over the top.

We also were tapped out.  Our scrolls and potions were used up.  We were in enemy territory, way over our heads, and not entirely sure that we would survive.  Ironically, this session actually went easier because of one crucial difference: the big battle was outside.  When Kham has the freedom to move and Quintus has the freedom to stay put, things go much better.

And of course, this time we all made sure not to line up in a row.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Prologue*

The meeting inside the Way of the Pearl’s quarters was somber and tense.  Gone was the jubilance and excitement of the victory over the Harvesters.  All were focused upon the Elorii known as Sevestia.  Her icy tones, though low, managed to drown out the celebration still going on upon the ship’s deck.

“With a Black Ship in our possession, you now have a chance to slip into the harbor of Ymandragore without being destroyed outright. At the top of the stairs from the harbor there are places where the Harvesters come to sell whatever they cannot use.  These slavers, I’ve been told, are a suspicious lot and have actually created a ritual about the transfer of goods.  What these phrases and counter phrases are is unknown to me, but you have proven yourselves to be a resourceful lot.”

“Gee,” said Kham.  “Thanks.”

“You should be able to pass yourselves off competently, if not with one, then with another of the slavers there,” said Sevestia.  “Once the boy has been handed off to begin his infection, you have but one more task before leaving Ymandragore: Free my father from Orata’s grasp.”

“Where is this Orata?” asked Quintus.

“Orata will be finalizing his plans upon the Ordainer’s isle off the coast of the Isle of Tears,” said Sevestia. “Which of the hundreds of archipelagos that dot the Gulf of Yarris, I do not know.  But my father does.  He has been there many times and can easily guide us there.”

“And your father?” asked Holden.

“When I last saw my father, he was casting a spell to teleport me away, when Orata and his cronies burst in.  They could not stop the incantation, but I’m sure they captured my father and are holding him, probably within Orata’s manse upon Ymandragore.”

Ilmarė met the other Elorii’s gaze.  “How can you be sure he is not dead?”

“He is not dead,” said Sevestia matter-of-factly. “My father has been on the island for too long and is too well known for him to be sold or used as a power node.  He will most likely be imprisoned, out of sight, until Orata’s plans either succeed or fail.”

“So we drop the kid off and then hope that we find your father, who we hope isn’t dead, somewhere in Orata’s house?”  Kham looked around at the others.  “This is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

“If you deliver him back to me, I will guarantee his cooperation in divulging the information he has on Orata,” said Sevestia, staring down her nose at Kham.

Before Kham could say more, Master Ecor cleared his throat. “I am sorry that such a frightful task has fallen upon you,” he said. “You have proven yourselves beyond what any of us could hope or expect.  Rest here for now.  Your best hope is to sail into the harbor in the dead of night.  Tomorrow will be soon enough.  It would be foolhardy to send you into Ymandragore now.”

“Foolhardy is not the word for it,” said Ilmarė. “And how will we go undetected amongst the Ymandrakes?  I do not exactly…” she hesitated. “…fit in.”

“Before you set sail in the morning,” said Ecor, “I will cast a spell that will allow you to understand and speak Ymandrake for one day. You will be wearing Harvester robes we found in the hold.  They should provide you with enough time to arrive, attend to your task, and leave that place.”

“I am familiar with Yamandragore,” said Holden. “So I can help.”

“A word of caution,” said Y’vigne.  “The boy grows sicker by the day.  I fear that he will not live much longer.  He seems to be radiating the disease now; not by casting spells, but by his mere presence.  We believe that for the safety of any sorcerer traveling with the boy, that they refrain from casting any spells while in his presence.”

Kham adjusted his lenses.  “I am not a sorcerer,” he said.  It didn’t sound very confident. They all looked at Holden.

“Nor am I,” said the grenadier.  “I was taught my art.”

With a final goodbye, Y’vigne and Ecor turned and left without another word.  Only Sevestia remained.  

After a long pause, she said, “I have lived upon that malignant tumor of a place for two of your centuries, regarded more as an experiment than a sentient being.  My father and I have always held great contempt for the lesser beings of Arcanis, especially humans.”

“Join the club,” said Kham, careful to not look at Ilmarė.

Lowering her eyes for a moment, Sevestia fought back tears.  “My father is the only being who has ever cared for me.  I have never depended on anyone but him.  Ever.  Bring him back to me and I shall be forever in your debt, both in this incarnation and those that will come.”

Kham shook his head.  “For a being that’s been around a long time, you sure haven’t thought this out very well.  I just hope your father is where you think he is.”

Sevestia glared daggers at him.  “If you fail, I will become all that you fear from Orata and so much more.”  Without another word, she turned and closed the door.

Kham raised one hand. “Who votes for ditching this mission and letting the snooty elf chick—no offense Ilmarė—find her father for herself?”  

“I will see this mission through to its end,” said Quintus.  “And Cassicus shall be granted a hero’s death.”

Ilmarė sighed.  “I understand Sevestia’s pain.  I will go.  Not because it’s a good plan, but because any Elorii life is precious.”

“You’ll need me,” said Holden.  “I knew what I was getting into when I signed up.”

Vlad scratched the back of his head.  “I’m doing it for the money.  I think.  Did anyone ever mention if we’re going to get paid?”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 1: Where the Wise Fear to Tread*

The speed with which the Infernals rowed the ship was nothing short of amazing.  The prow of the Black Ship sliced through the waves as if it were a charger racing down an evenly paved path.  The seas outside became choppier as they closed with Ymandragore. A wall of rain formed a curtain around the island, shielding its craggy shores from view.

“And that,” said Holden, pointing at the perpetual storm, “is one of the reasons they call it the Isle of Tears.”

Fortunately, the demons knew the way unerringly.  Kham had them navigate the rocky reef and other hazards with practiced ease. 

“It is said of Ymandragore: ‘It was as if the world itself was pained that such a blemish had grown upon her delicate skin and cried so that its tears might wash the stain away,” said Ilmarė. 

The rain lessened slightly as the Black Ship approached the harbor entrance.  Every drop felt like cold needles.  All of them were cloaked in the heavy robes of Harvesters, which proved a tool of intimidation as well as protection against the unforgiving climate.

A rattling cough drew Vlad’s attention to their deadly cargo.  Cassicus was getting worse with each passing moment.  

Vlad kneeled down next to him. “You okay?”

Cassicus straightened his shoulders and gave a wan smile.  “I’ll hold out. Don’t worry.”

“The boy has courage,” said Quintus.  “Let us hope it is enough to see us through.”

Though it was the dead of night by the time the ship sailed into the harbor, the activity of the area was as busy as the port of Savona during the Saturnalia.  Kham commanded the creatures below to ease into an empty slip as dozens of dockworkers threw their mooring lines to secure the vessel.

A burly man with a busy uni-brow scowled as he approached the ship.  “Who commands this vessel?” he yelled.

Kham climbed up to the deck just in time to see Quintus nod at him.  

Kham pointed at himself. “Me?” he asked in confusion.

The Dock Master turned to Kham.  “Why are you entering the harbor at this hour?  You’re not scheduled to be here!”

“Uh…” said Kham.

The Dock Master’s eyebrows furrowed. “Where’s your crew?”

“We encountered some resistance,” said Quintus, jostling Kham aside.  “We have some very special cargo.” He pointed at Cassicus, who seemed to have folded in upon himself.

The Dock Master rubbed his chin. “Special cargo, hmm? Why isn’t the boy chained?”

“He was seasick,” added Kham.  He pulled out a pair of manacles he picked up from the Harvesters’ lair.  “Didn’t want him puking all over the deck.”  He clapped the chains on Cassicus, who offered no resistance.

The Dock Master hesitated.

“Look,” said Quintus.  “We lost a lot of men to bring the boy here.  Now you can let us through or you can deal with the consequences.”

The Dock Master frowned.  “Fine,” he said.  “But let Gorman know I helped.”

Quintus nodded.  “You’ll get what you deserve,” he muttered as they disembarked.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 2: The Courtyard of Rebirth*

They mounted the staircase that led up to the city proper.  The section of the island appeared to have been excavated in tiers.  The lowest was the harbor and dock area.  The next highest was not the main plateau.

“This is the Courtyard of Rebirth,” said Holden.  “Harvesters bring their victims here to be put on the Stage and sold to the highest bidder.”

Kham looked bout the small tier.  The buildings were an amalgamation of styles and shapes.  They were arranged around a central square.  At the center of the square was a state of a bare-chested, powerfully built man, his arms outstretched. Around the statue were three small structures that looked like shrines.  In one, a man kneeled as if in prayer before it. 

“And that?” Kham nodded in the direction of the statue.

“Those are the Blessing Houses,” said Holden.  “That statue is of the Sorcerer-King.  Harvesters who tithe their magic in prayer receive a blessing in return.”

“A religion that gives something back for once,” said Ilmarė.

“Come on,” said Quintus.  He made entered one of the buildings, where Harvesters and others moved in and out.

The room was luxuriously decorated with plush pillows, thick area rugs and tapestries.  Incense burned in two hanging bowls.  Strategically placed light globes illuminated the chamber.  

Seated upon a plush pillow was a huge man flanked by two grim and deadly looking guards.  The obese man wore a large, flowing robe that threatened to rip at his slightest movement.  Jewelry adorned his neck, wrists and fingers, but they had been on for so long that the fat had grown around them.  A thin sheen of sweat covered him from his shaved head to his pudgy, porcine fingers.  The musty smell of human stink was thick in the air.

“Gorman,” said Holden out of the side of his mouth.

At their entrance, Gorman looked up from a scroll and gave a toothy grin.  He chuckled, sending ripples cascading through his many chins.

“Welcome, blessed Harvesters,” said Gorman in an effeminately high voice.  “I trust the harvest has been fruitful and plentiful.  I see you have liberated another from the infidels.”

“We have indeed,” said Quintus, squeezing Cassicus’ shoulder.

“Blessed is the offering that we deliver to His Sorcerous Majesty,” said Gorman.  “Who have you brought to my House?”

“This is Cassicus val’Tensen,” said Quintus in measured tones.  “He is the son of Augustus val’Tensen, a Coryani senator.”

The fat around Gorman’s eyes wiggled.  “An excellent prize indeed!” He leaned forward, and pillows slid out from beneath his bulk.  “Fear not, boy.  Your life will now begin anew.”  Gorman looked up, a false smile on his lips.  “Who delivers him to his salvation?”

Quintus thought for a moment.  “Flavius.”

“Flavius?  I’ve never heard of you.  Of what Finger?”

“The fourth one,” said Quintus confidently.

“The fourth what?” asked Gorman.

“Wine Drinkers,” whispered Holden behind Quintus.

“Flavius of the Wine Drinkers,” said Quintus. “It was all I could do not to tear the boy’s throat out myself.  He is bursting with energy.”

Gorman leaned back, satisfied.  “The boy looks sickly.  He may not survive the indoctrination.”

“He is well enough,” said Quintus.  “Stand up straight, boy!”   He shoved Cassicus forward.

Cassicus tried to straighten up, but his weariness was visible.  

“Turn around!” snapped Quintus.

Cassicus, slowly, wearily turned in a full circle.  When he faced Quintus, there was a grim smile of satisfaction on his lips.  It disappeared just as quickly as he turned back to face Gorman.

“Hmm,” said Gorman.  “The most I can give you is 50 Cerventens.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” snarled Quintus.  “150 Cerventens!”

“150?  You drive a hard bargain.  110.”

“125.”

“Done,” said Gorman.  He waved one jiggling limb of fat to his guards.  “Take him away.”

A pouch was thrown to Vlad by the other guard.  He caught it and looked inside.

”Steel?” said Vlad, surprised.

“Treat it like gold,” said Holden. “It’s Ymandragore’s currency.”

“Let us toast to your glorious find,” said Gorman.  He clapped his hands, causing an earthquake of fat to wave across his body.

The guards threw a wineskin to Kham.  Kham looked around, shrugged, and downed much of its contents as Gorman slurped from a goblet.

“And now we have other business to attend to,” said Quintus.  He whirled, and the others followed.

“You did well,” said Holden.

“Too well,” said Ilmarė.  “You sent a child to certain death. You did not have to make the boy dance.”

“I gave a senator’s son a glorious end,” said Quintus, keeping his eyes straight ahead.  “I did not ask you to come.”

Kham took another swig of the wineskin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  For once he was silent.

He looked back over his shoulder at the statue of the Sorcerer-King.  Then Kham swallowed the rest of the wine in the wineskin.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 3: The House That Lucius Built*

Holden led them up to the next tier, the city proper. Buildings of all sizes and architectural styles crowded thoroughfares that haphazardly opened up into plazas before spiraling away as streets, alleyways, and narrow dogtrots.

Heading off towards the east, Holden followed a path that meandered for quite a few miles.  Their disguises helped shield them from the curious.  

“Nobody makes eye contact,” said Vlad.

Everyone they passed in the various squares and plazas did their best to remain as inconspicuous as possible.  

“It’s a way of life here,” said Holden.  “It’s best to avoid attention from Harvesters, even in their homeland.”

The drizzle became a small deluge as they arrived at their destination.  There, on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by a high stone wall, was the personal villa of Lucious Orata, Master of the Ordainers.  A wooden gate was the most obvious means of entry.  

Quintus pushed it open.  Beyond was a well-kept lawn and a Coryani-style manse.  

“Interesting,” said Holden.  “Looks like Orata liked Coryani so much he recreated it here.”

“Yeah, real interesting,” said Kham.  A marbled portico, held by many fluted columns, surrounded the southern and eastern sides of the villa.

The manse itself was a two-story affair, with formidable bronze double doors filling the main entrances.  

“No windows,” said Vlad.  “It’s built like a fortress.”

Kham walked up to the door and pulled a dagger from the folds of his robe.  “I’ll take care of this.”

The hilt of the dagger popped out to reveal connected lockpicks.  Kham inserted a series of them into the lock, one after the other.  After a series of clicks and snaps, the door sprung open.

Kham smirked over his shoulder.  “Piece of CAAAAH!”

Two large claws yanked him through the doorway and out of sight.


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4a: The Grand Hall*

The immense hall was pitch black, with only a light afterglow coming from the side hallways.  Pinioned between two columns was a large, white sheet that extended from the second story landing to the floor.  It flowed languidly from some unseen breeze.  A set of stairs leading to the second floor was directly north of the entrance.  Before the entire spectacle was Kham with a panther on his back.

“Get it off me!” he shrieked. The panther’s rear claws dug in over Kham’s gut, tearing through the Harvester robe. Only the Sicarite leather that he had recently purchased saved him from being disemboweled.

Quintus unfolded his longspear from beneath the folds of his cloak.  Another panther roared a charge and leaped at Vlad; it was all the warrior could do to keep his shield between them. 

“Holden, you’re with me. Ilmarė, help Vlad!” said Quintus.

Kham stopped moving.  The panther snapped its jaws towards his neck…

Only to meet the bayonet at the end of Holden’s rifle.  Then Quintus rammed the panther hard with his shield, forcing it off of Kham’s body.

The Elorii had her bow out in a flash.  An arrow flashed across Quintus’ field of vision as she fired.  It was met with a howl from the other panther.

The first panther hissed as it regained its footing and prepared for another leap.  Quintus crouched and waited.

It launched itself into the air, only to be met by Quintus’ longspear.  The panther howled piteously as it impaled itself on his spear.  Then it fell silent.

Vlad walked back towards his companions, his blade wet with panther blood. Even a panther’s claws were no match for Nierite full plate.  He looked down at Kham.

“Is he…?”

Quintus the back of one hand to Kham’s throat.  “He’ll survive…by Illiir’s Grace,” he said.

“Thanks for your help,” Vlad said to Ilmarė.  “But I really didn’t…” he noticed she still had another arrow knocked.  

“Don’t look now,” she whispered. “But we’ve got company.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 4b: The Grand Hall*

Quintus loomed over one of the goblin servants.  It was so terrified that it was groveling, rolling around on the ground with limbs spread in supplication. Huddled behind it were over a dozen of its companions.

“Don’t hurt us!” it squealed.  “Don’t hurt ussss!”

“Get up, I can’t talk to you like that.”

The goblin shakily rose to his feet, but it refused to look up at Quintus.  “It won’t hurt usss, will it?”

Quintus sighed.  “Where is your master?”

“The Master left three risings ago.”

“Risings?” asked Holden.

Ilmarė seemed amused.  “I think that’s goblin for days.”

“Yes, yes, risings!” the goblin repeated.

“Three days,” said Quintus. “Did he leave with anyone?”

“Oh yessss,” the goblin said.  “The Master left with the strange man with a large head.”

“Large head?” Kham winced as he sat down to lean against a nearby wall.  “As in, big ego?”

The goblin blinked.  The concept of an ego may as well have been formulated in another dimension.

“Was an Elorii with them?” asked Quintus.  He pointed to Ilmarė. “Like her?”

The goblin shook his head furiously.  “N-no. We have not seen one like her for many, many, many risings.” The goblin cringed at having to provide a negative answer to Quintus. “Please don’t hurt ussss!”

Kham spat out some blood on the floor. “Are there any more beasts like the ones that attacked us?”

“No, none!  At least, not down here…”

Vlad joined Quintus to loom over the goblin. “But upstairs?” 

“We don’t go upstairs!” said the goblin.

“Ghosts,” whispered one of the other goblins.

“Yes, ghosts,” murmured the pack of them, each whispering to each other in turn.  

“The ghost is upstairs!” It pointed one tiny bony finger at the flapping sheet. “The sheet protects us!” 

Quintus stared up at the ceiling.  “How do you know there’s a ghost?”

There was a long, low noise from the ceiling.  It was the sound of something rolling across the second floor.

“We are doomed!” whispered the lead goblin. He was met with wails of “doomed!” and “woe is us!”

“Stop that!” shouted Quintus.

They immediately became silent.  Some of the goblins tried to cower behind the others in front.

Quintus picked up his longspear and shield again.  He looked over at Kham.  “Are you up to ghost hunting today?”

Kham stared back at Quintus for a long moment, arms crossed.  Finally, he said, “Fine.  But this time, YOU open the door.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 5a: Imprisonment!*

The door before them appeared to resemble all the others in the manse.  Before Quintus reached the handle, the strange rolling sound began again.

Kham drew two of his pistols. He smiled sweetly at Ilmarė.  “Ladies first.”  

She muttered something in Elorii at him. The rolling noise stopped.

Quintus tried the doorknob.  “It’s locked.”  He turned to Vlad.  “Vlad, unlock it.”

Vlad snapped the visor of his helmet down with a nod.  With a roar, Vlad kicked the door just above the doorknob.  The combined weight of his plate armor and force splintered the door open.  He entered with shield and blade at the ready.

“Looks like you’re out of the lock picking business,” said Ilmarė.

There was the sound of splintered wood and Vlad stumbled back out of the doorway with a fist-sized dent in his shield.  “Something big,” he said.  

“And angry,” said Kham, pointing at the thing that shambled through the doorway.

It looked as though it had been constructed from a grisly assortment of decaying human body parts. They were all stitched and bolted together into a form taller than a living man.  

“Golem!” shouted Ilmarė.  

Quintus stabbed it in the chest with his spear, but the golem kept coming.  It swatted at Quintus with a huge hand that was attached backwards to its wrist.  

With a metallic clang, Quintus slid backwards from the impact.  He absorbed the brunt of the blow with his shield, but the blow still numbed his arm.

An arrow bounced off of the golem’s head. 

“Get clear!” shouted Holden.  He kneeled and aimed.  

KA-BLAM!

The golem pounded out of the cloud of smoke in the aftermath of the rifle’s shot.  Its chest was blackened, but the leathery flesh was still intact.

“It’s immune to weapons!” shouted Vlad.  He stabbed at the golem, but his blade bounced off the sutures across its back.  It swung a fist at him, just missing his head.

“Amateurs,” muttered Kham.  He upended a vial of viscous oil into a pouch full of bullets.

Holden dropped his rifle and pointed his fingers in a fan-like gesture towards the golem. “Incensio terum!”

A wide gout of flames washed over the golem.  Bits of its hair burnt off, but it didn’t even flinch.

“We need magic,” said Ilmarė through gritted teeth. “Even dwarven quality is not enough to stop this thing.”  She drew Captain Bezyli’s knife, but it looked like a toothpick in comparison to the golem’s hulking form.

Vlad nodded and drew the magical dagger from his belt.  “I’ll keep it busy,” he said.  

The warrior leaped onto the back of the golem as it clumsily swung at him again.  The blow missed and smashed through the plaster wall. Then he stabbed it again and again as the golem whirled around in rage.

BLAM! BLAM!

Two smoking holes opened in the golem’s chest.  Sutures tore at the wounds.  The golem collapsed in a pile of brittle body parts.  

Vlad’s gauntleted hand stuck out from the pile. From somewhere in the morass of flesh and stitches came, “nice shot Kham.”

Kham grunted as he stepped around the pile into the room.  “Maybe you should leave the door opening to me.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 5b: Imprisonment!*

It was clear the room was once used as a private study, but most of the furnishings and accessories had been removed.  Only a pair of empty bookcases remained.  Upon one of the shelves was a glass globe the size of a human fist. 

“I think there’s something in that globe,” said Ilmarė, pointing at the glass sphere.

“Something?” asked Vlad.

“It looks like…a little person.”

“What’s he doing?” asked Holden.

Ilmarė picked up the sphere and held it to the light.  Then she shook it.  “Not much. He’s dead.”

“Let me see it?” asked Vlad. She threw it to the warrior.

Suddenly, the thrumming, rolling noise started again.  Another of the glass globes rolled on the floor towards Kham.  A being was vigorously running inside of it.

“If that’s a hamster, I’m leaving,” said Kham.

Within the glass sphere was an Elorii, pounding furiously at his prison.  He was yelling at the top of his lungs, but it was nearly impossible to hear due to his reduced size.  

Kham picked it up and put his ear to the sphere.  “I think he’s saying, ‘Trees free at brunch’.”

“Give me that!” Ilmarė snatched the globe from Kham and listened.  Then she threw it to the ground. The globe shattered on impact.  

“He was shouting ‘Free me at once!’” said Ilmarė. “Idiot.”

The enchantment that shrank the Elorii was undone.  Before their very eyes, the being grew to full size…and then even larger.  

“Did someone overdo the enchantment?” asked Vlad.

“Show some respect,” snapped Ilmarė.  She curtsied low before the Elorii as he unfolded himself.  “Elorii grow with age.”  He towered over them at nearly eight feet in height.

“Then he must be really old,” said Kham.

“Who are you and why are you here?” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

Quintus stared up at him defiantly.  “Who are you?”

“Who asks Xerxes such a question?” boomed the Elorii.

“Well that answers that,” said Kham.  

“We’re here to rescue you,” said Holden.  “Your daughter, Sevestia, sent us.”  

Xerxes relaxed a bit.  “Very well.  You may rise,” he said to Ilmarė.   She rose to her feet.  “I cannot leave,” he said.  “Not yet.”

“Why not?” asked Kham.  

“Because we have an assassination to stop,” said Xerxes. He strode out the door past them.

Ilmarė followed behind him without looking at the others. Holden sighed and followed after.  Kham and Quintus exchanged looks.  

There was a crack behind them.  Vlad looked down at the corpse that was formerly encased in the sphere, now enlarged to its full size.  

“That’s weird,” said Vlad.  

Quintus kneeled down to inspect the corpse. 

“What?” asked Kham.

“That looks like the corpse of Master Theron,” said Vlad.

“Didn’t we just see him a few days ago?” asked Vlad.

The legionnaire rose to his feet.  “And it looks like he’s been dead for months.”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Part 6: Ambush*

“So, why are we doing this again?” asked Kham as they followed Xerxes through the maze that was Ymandragore.  

“Gemellus Pravus is marked for assassination by Orata,” said Ilmarė.  

“And that is…?” asked Vlad.

“The second to the Sorcerer-King,” said Holden.  “When Gemellus was taken to the Isle centuries ago, it was Xerxes that began his training and groomed him for the position he now holds.”

Though Xerxes towered over the citizenry, the people seemed to be paying more attention to scurrying in and out of shops and awnings to escape the incessant downpour than spending time gawking.

“The boy also tempers the Sorcerer-King’s rule,” said Ilmarė.  “Orata gloated that Gemellus’ death will be the harbinger of a bloodbath the likes of which Ymandragore has never seen.”

“And he’s not going to leave until we try to stop it,” said Quintus with a note of resignation.  

“Right,” said Ilmarė.

Even the occasional Enforcerer seemed to pay little notice to them.  “Gemellus’ one fault is that he is a being of habit,” said Xerxes over his shoulder.  “Every evening, he takes his walking throne and makes a small circuit of the interior of the city.  He thinks it keeps him in touch with the goings on of the city.”

“Orata is counting on his habitual movement through certain squares and marketplaces for the assassination,” said Ilmarė. 

They splashed through a puddle-strewn alley when Xerxes abruptly called them to a halt.  Kham peered around the corner.

It was a medium-sized plaza.  Though not mobbed with people, there were some Ymandrakes looking through merchant wares or getting a late night drink in the square.  More than enough to serve Orata’s purposes.

“He’s coming,” said Ilmarė. 

From the far end, they could hear the slow and steady steps of Gemellus’ walking throne.  

“Who’s that?” asked Kham, pointing at a man whose skin was mostly scabs, with burns covering most of his body.

“That’s a highly placed member of the Order of the Green Flame,” said Holden as he loaded his rifle.  “They excel at fire magic.  In fact, they burn their own bodies to fuel it.”

“He’s smiling,” said Kham.  

“From the looks of it, he has no lips,” said Vlad.  “He’s always smiling.”

“That’s our assassin!” shouted Kham, drawing both pistols.  “I’m on him!”

The assassin drew a sword that burst into flames just as Gemellus’ magical chair strode into the square.  At the same time, a loud explosion sounded off from beneath Gemellus’ chair.

The Green Flame sorcerer turned towards Xerxes.  ”Casses!” he said as he pointed at the Elorii.

An expanding stream of webbing ensnared everyone but Kham.  He ran low to the ground, zigzagging in and out across the stalls.

Gemellus was bleeding from the ears and nose, unconscious in the wreckage of his throne.  

There was the twang of a crossbow string and a bolt thudded into the cobblestone near Gemellus’ head.

“Sniper on the roof!” shouted Kham, pointing with one of his pistols at another man wielding a heavy crossbow.  He was busy reloading. Kham fired.

BLAM! The crossbowman hunkered down behind the edge of the building he stood on.

The Green Flame sorcerer pulled a wand from his robes.  

“Ah crap,” said Kham.  He dove to the side as a fan of flames streamed from the wand and ignited the webbing.  Quintus and Vlad struggled to free themselves from the flaming web, but most of it burned off.

As Kham rose to his feet, a blade whistled towards his head.  He ducked just in time.  

“How many of you guys ARE there?” asked Kham.  He fired on his newest opponent but the bullet ricocheted off of his buckler. “Vlad, a little help?!”

Vlad pounded up behind the third assassin.  The assassin spun just in time to block Vlad’s slash, stumbling backwards into a pile of stacked fruit.

Quintus’ longspear stabbed at the first assassin, forcing him to roll to the ground. 

“Let’s see how you do without your wand,” snarled Quintus.  

SPTANG!

A bolt struck Quintus’ shield and then with a whirring squeal, it burrowed its way through it to the other side.  

“Magic bolts,” said Quintus.  “Careful!”

Something struck Vlad’s armor.  He grunted as the bolt spiraled through layers of plate and leather.  Blood welled out of the hole.

The crack of a rifle shot echoed across the square.  The Green Flame assassin clutched his thigh. Vlad used the distraction to stab him in the throat.

Kham ran over to Gemellus.  “I don’t know who you are, but you better be worth it.”  He dragged the man out of the wreckage. 

Qutinus pointed at the sniper on the roof.  “Stop him!” he shouted.

“I can’t get a shot!” shouted Ilmarė. 

Holden finished reloading and aimed his rifle.  “Me neither.”  He began rifling through his satchel. “So we’ll have to hit him with a broader blast.”

“You’re going to throw a grenade at him?” asked Xerxes in disbelief.

Holden sparked his flint and steel and something hissed in response from his satchel.  “Not a grenade,” he said.  “All of them.”

“Get down!” shouted Ilmarė.

With a mighty hurl, Holden tossed the sizzling satchel at the sniper.  

The explosion rocked the plaza as blackened fruit, tents, and clothing of all sorts drifted down around them.  

Kham stood up.  He had just finished administering a healing potion to Gemellus. “And they worry about me?”


----------



## talien

*Assault Upon the Gate of Tears - Conclusion*

One moment Gemellus and Xerxes began to have a conversation. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the next moment Gemellus stood before them, fully restored.

“What just happened?” asked Vlad.

“Time-distortion magic,” said Ilmarė. 

“Xerxes has informed me that I have you to thank for my continued health,” said Gemellus in a voice brimming with barely controlled anger.  “For that I thank you.”

“We did what we had to,” said Quintus.  “For the greater good.”

“My former mentor has also informed me of the plot of Lucious Orata and his subsequent imprisonment,” said Gemellus. “Xerxes is no longer safe upon the Isle until the traitors can no be ferreted out.  I will allow you to leave with him.”

“I don’t think you could keep him here if he wished to leave,” said Ilmarė with a sneer.

“Know this: should you ever step foot upon my homeland again, or cross paths with my people, our parting shall not be as cordial,” said Gemellus.

Quintus met his gaze without wavering.  “I’m counting on it,” he said.

Peering into an ornate amulet around his neck, Gemellus said, “ah, there’s your ship right now.”  He turned to Xerxes with a slight smile.  “I will miss you, my old friend.  Thank you for all your years of…instruction.”

“YOU’RE! WELCOME!” shouted Kham at the top of his lungs.

Gemellus passed his hand in their direction and…then they were on the heaving deck of the Way of the Pearl.

Shout of surprise quickly turned to cheers of glee as Hawk and Shield members on deck realized they returned.

Within moments, Master Ecor and Y’vigne were on deck.  

“We’re alive!” shouted Kham.  “And look who we brought with us!”  He grabbed Y’vigne and kissed her on the lips.  She squealed in protest but, fortunately, didn’t slap him.

Xerxes looked about the ship.  Sevestia climbed from below decks and smiled uncertainly at her father.  The two held each other wordlessly. The crew parted to give them some privacy.

Holden debriefed Ecor and Y’vigne.  “Thanks to them,” he nodded towards Quintus and the others, “the plot of the traitor Orata has been foiled.  We have put the members of the Hawk and Shield in a position to deal with him personally.”

Y’vigne smiled at Kham.  “Know that you have our undying gratitude.  Should you ever have need of us, show this and we will aid you as best we can.”  She pressed a golden emblem of a Hawk with its wings spread, perched upon a shield, into Kham’s hands.  There was one for each of them.

“I don’t get it,” said Vlad.  “We stopped the assassination, but the corpses of the assassins turned featureless.” 

“Doppelgangers,” said Holden.  “Lucious’ plan was to create a civil war by having the assassins pose as high-ranking Harvesters.”

Above deck, Ilmarė and Quintus stood next to each other, staring out at the sunrise.  

“Another pin,” said Ilmarė, turning the hawk over in her hand.  “I’m running out of places to put them.”

“I can hold them for you, if you like,” said Quintus, looking straight ahead. “I don’t have much of a home yet, but I hope to acquire a small property, maybe a farm…” he trailed off.

“I had forgotten what having a family is like,” said Ilmarė.  “Sevestia and Xerxes reminded me of feelings I have not had in a very long time.”

“Yes,” said Quintus.  “In times of war, love can be a weakness or a strength. It all depends on whether the object your affection is at your side…or at your back.”

Ilmarė smiled sideways at the human who stood beside her.  “I think it’s a strength.”

They said nothing more.  With the dawning of a new day, the Way of the Pearl headed back to the mainland and away from the foulness that was the Isle of Tears.


----------



## Thanediel

Very nice! As a relatively-new LA player, I love being able to read stuff about modules I missed and which are now retired.

Are you going to continue posting about more recent adventures or is this SH now at an end? I confess I would miss Quintus and Kham most if that happened


----------



## talien

We ain't done yet!

The good news is that the campaign is now on Chapter 32 and we just completed Chapter 12.  There's a LOT of story yet to be told.

That said, the campaign's tone will shift when I took over as primary DM, with more of a Cthulhu-esque emphasis on cults in Freeport.  You'll see that shift as we delve into the Year Two Living Arcanis adventures.

Unfortunately, this does mean that the Kham/Quintus rivalry and the Ilmare/Quintus romance don't get as much time because I'm not playing Quintus.  Rest assured, the events that take place in the Living Arcanis adventures continue to play out.  Here's a sneak preview of what happens two our gang in Year Two:

* A Senator asks for help, then gets the gang in a lot of trouble. 
* Quintus gets one step closer to owning that farm he always dreamed of.
* Quintus and Ilmare's relationship gets...awkward.
* Beldin goes back to his roots to deal with issues of succession.
* Kham catches up with his estranged father.
* And more!

Thanks for your feedback, the players love to hear what people think of the game.  Trust me, Kham's player pays very close attention to what I write and soundly chastizes me when I get it wrong.


----------



## Kham Val'Abebi

*Are you happy now!?!*

Hey Talien are you happy I finally got a freaking account!!! LOL

I wanted to see how much you posted...Wow its crazy to read all that old stuff... as I was reading I couldn't help noticing our Levels, How the heck did we survive all that madness... and then I considered where we are now and I think I'd rather be back with that Island with the harvisters, rather than on the island we' re on now, looking for what we' re looking for. Man!!

-Kham


----------



## talien

*Chapter 13: Death in Freeport - Introduction*

This is the first in the Freeport series of modules, "Death in Freeport," written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Vlad Martell (human ftr3) played by Matt Hammer
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf brd5) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Naruis Drilian (human rog1/rgr2) played by Mike Best

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session.  

I wasn’t sure how this would go, given that it’s not our usual tournament type adventure. The good news is that it went just fine.

This was one of those instances where the party really clicked.  At one point, the party’s synergy comes together in such a way that you could feel everything lock into place.  Which is pretty amazing, given that Mike had just joined us.  Thanks to combined efforts of the rogue types, they managed to pull off an incredible heist. All that, and they unearthed a cult too!

This adventure was upgraded to make it suitable for their level (normally, this adventure is for 1st level PCs).  I replaced the relatively weak serpent people from the Freeport adventure with Ssanu from the Ssethregore supplement.  I discovered three of them in one adventure is plenty!

This is the first true city adventure without a linear plot that our group played.  As a result, in most cases the party needed a little prodding to move in the right direction.  Also, there are quite a few red herrings (everyone was positive the staff had something to do with Lucius), and since we play in four-hour blocks it was critical that the adventure keep moving.  The good news is that it did.  

There was intrigue, role-playing, plenty of grandstanding, lots of amazing rolls and best of all, stuff for Vlad to chop up at the end!


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 1: The Press Gang*

Nauris Drilian stepped off of the Shrike.  Or rather, he hopped off it after the crazy pirate captain threatened to make him sing a song to “prove he was all right.” 

Dril was dressed in a full body cloak, the hood of which concealed his features.  He scanned the docks. The note he had taken off the impostor’s body spoke of a “pit” in Freeport.  If there were other Ssanu posing as Altharins, Dril planned to root them out. 

The action on the docks was mesmerizing.  There were ships in port from all over the world, carrying every manner of exotics goods.  Sailors and merchants of all races and backgrounds mingled on the wharves; money changed hands so fast he could barely even follow it.  The sights and sounds were so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice a group of men gathering around him.

Dril’s hand darted under his cloak to his scimitar, which he had taken off the Shining Patrol impostor.  

They were all scarred and crusty sailors armed with saps and belaying pins.  The leader of the scurvy dogs, a toothless man with tattooed knuckles, smiled crookedly.

“You’ve just volunteered for an exciting life at sea,” he cackled.  “Do you want to go the easy way or the hard way?”

“I just got off a boat,” said Dril through clenched teeth.  “I don’t intend to get back on it.”

The crowd parted around them, but no one moved to help.

“Oh I don’t think you understand,” said Toothless.  “I’m not asking.  Well, okay I was asking.  But you don’t have a choice.”

He was surrounded.  There were men behind him, slapping saps into open palms.  Dril crouched slightly, feeling the comforting touch of his dagger against his right thigh.  

Dril’s other hand ducked under his cloak. “You’re making a mistake.”

Toothless’ sap whistled towards Dril’s head, but it never connected.  The wicked point of a scimitar blade protruded from the grizzled sailor’s back.

Then everything became a blur.  Dril’s other hand slashed upwards, slitting a sailor’s throat open.  
Flashes of pain reverberated across Dril’s back and shoulders, but none struck his head.  He considered himself lucky.  Hi whirled, his cloak snapping into the faces of those behind him.  He crouched down and away, making himself as small as possible.  Two sailors fell for it.  They advanced, saps raised high, only to find unforgiving steel in their bellies.  

Dril rose like a ghost from docks, his cloak slithering backwards off the blood and corpses.  “Anyone else?” he asked, breathing hard.

The remaining sailors turn and fled.  Dril sheathed his weapons as a large man in full plate armor clanked awkwardly down the docks towards him. 

“That’ll teach them to pick on newcomers,” he said with a smile.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Dril.  “They made me an offer.”  He looked down at the corpses at his feet.  “I refused.”

“Then perhaps you will take this offer instead,” said a man behind them.

Both of them turned to see a slight, bearded man in robes.  “And who are you?” asked Dril.

“Where are my manners?  I’m brother Egil.  Are you with Kaiyem?”

“Who?” asked Dril.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Egil.  “I thought because you were an Altherian that you were with my friend.  I sent him an urgent message.”

“Kham,” Vlad said the name slowly, because he was no longer sure if he was saying it correctly, “told us to meet him at the Pale Plate.”  He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.  “Perhaps we should talk there.”

“Yes,” said Egil.  He turned to Dril.  “If you are true to your Altherian brothers, you might be interested in what I have to say.” His eyes darted to the long, covered rod that was strapped beneath Dril’s cloak across his back.

“You’re a priest of Althere?”  Egil nodded. “Then I will listen.”

They stepped over the bodies as looters darted in, stripping the bodies bare and tossing the corpses off the pier.  

“Is Kaiyem at the Pale Plate?” asked Egil.

“Not yet,” said Vlad.  He looked embarrassed.  “I’m not sure where he is…”

Egil nodded sagely.  “He’s probably hung over.”

“So you know him,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 2: An Offer of Employment*

Kham stumbled into his old stomping grounds, the Pale Plate, more than a little hung over.  When he entered, everyone stopped talking: the Illirian priest sermonizing to the half-conscious drunk, the two mercenaries talking heatedly in the corner, the bartender wiping the bar, and his erstwhile adventuring companions.

The bartender nodded to Kham.  Kham nodded back.

Before he joined Ilmarė, Vlad, Dril, and Egil, a barmaid placed an orange-colored drink in a glass before the remaining empty seat.  

“Kaiyem! You came!” said Egil, rising to his feet.  “My friend, it has been a long time.  I’m glad you got my message.”

Kham stumbled into the seat.  “Yeah, hi.”

“You’ve been here before, I take it,” Ilmarė said coolly. 

Kham waved at the beautiful Elorii, his mind too fogged over to make even a witty retort.  His hand returned to his forehead.  The other reached for his drink.

Egil sat again.  “As I was saying, a librarian from my temple disappeared.  You remember Lucius, don’t you Kaiyem?”

Kham grunted. 

“I’m concerned that evil may have befallen him.  I’m willing to offer you 50 Imperials, 10 now and 40 on completion of the mission if you can find him and return him to the Temple of Althares.”

“Why can’t your…priests find him?” said Ilmarė, sneering at the word “priests.”

“It’s complicated,” said Egil.  “After Brother Oriku’s betrayal, I suspect the Temple has been infiltrated by spies.  I’m not sure whom I can trust there.  But I know Lucius, and I know he would not just abandon his duties.”

“It’s either booze, a woman, or he’s dead,” said Kham.  “One of the three, I’m betting.”

“It’s not like Lucius,” said Egil.  “We all take vows of abstinence and poverty upon joining the Temple.”

“And that’s why I’m not a priest of Althares,” said Kham.

“I will provide you with any information I can,” said Egil. “Will you help?”

Dril’s eyes brightened as Egil plopped 10 Imperials in four stacks before him.  “I’m in,” he said.

Vlad took his coins.  “Me too.”

Ilmarė smiled.  “I killed the first traitor,” she said sweetly.  “I will be happy to kill more of the traitorous priests of your false gods.”

Egil blinked uncertainly at the Elorii.

“You know I’ll help,” Kham said to Egil.  He looked over at Dril, adjusting his purple lenses.  “Would anyone mind telling me who this guy is?”


----------



## Thanediel

talien said:
			
		

> Egil nodded sagely.  “He’s probably hung over.”
> 
> “So you know him,” said Vlad.




ROFL!


----------



## talien

It's true, Kham has a drinking problem.  Believe it or not, that's the least of his vices. 

In one adventure, he went through most of it totally stoned.  In the most recent chapter (I think we're up to chapter 34), he was blitzed out of his mind. 

That's our Kham...always contributing his full 10% to the party!


----------



## Kham Val'Abebi

How was he to know... everyone wanted to know what the potion did… they didn’t have time to get it checked and it was in the guys bed room. How was Kham suppose to know it was an addictive hallucinagenitic drug… Opps.. Don’t blame him.. he is a man of action… besides he is too busy saving he world to bother saving himself. But that is yet to come, I don’t want to ruin anything.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 3: House of Lucius*

They made their way towards Lucius’ home to look for clues as to his whereabouts.  

“Whatever happened to Lucius?” asked Kham as they walked through the winding streets of Drac’s End.  “I haven’t seen him for over five years.”

“Something strange,” said Egil.  “One day Lucius was my friend of many years and the next he was a complete stranger.  He asked bizarre questions, seemed to remember nothing of our friendship, and treated the temple like his own personal library.  A few months later he was caught violating the sanctum and was expelled from the temple.  Shortly thereafter, he left Freeport entirely.”

“And then he showed up four years later?” asked Dril.

Egil nodded.  “When Lucius reappeared, he was like his old self.  He came to the temple and begged to be readmitted.  He said that he had no memory of the previous five years.  Thuron, our high priest, was adamant about refusing Lucius’ petition, but he changed his mind after a private meeting with him.”

“Curious,” said Ilmarė.  

“Lucius returned to the temple and for a little while at least, it was just like old times.  But after a few months, he started having problems sleeping.  Then Lucius began asking questions about what he had been like right before his expulsion, as if he didn’t remember any of it.  I was worried he was going insane. Two days ago, Lucius failed to come to the temple,” said Egil.  “I went to Lucius’ home.”  He nodded at the small dwelling before them.  “It was empty, but you’re welcome to look.” 

“Being a librarian’s not a lucrative job, is it?” asked Kham.  He pushed the door open to Lucius’ small home. 

Lucius’ home was only the ground floor, consisting of two rooms.  A trapdoor led down to the basement.  Kham and Ilmarė went downstairs while Dril and Vlad searched the main room. 

Most of the main room was cluttered with books, scrolls, quills, inkpots, and other tools of the scholar’s trade.  A cot was jammed into one corner, with a small desk under the front window.

“Anything?”  Vlad shouted down the basement door.

“Nothing good,” said Kham.

Dril pawed through the books and scrolls.  He picked up a title, “Of Dwarves and Men: The Lands of Onara,” and flipped through it.  A note floated out from between the papers to the floor.

Vlad picked it up.  “Hmm.”  He handed it to Egil. “Does any of this make sense?” 

Brother Egil looked at the note curiously.  “Well, it does mention sleeping.  Poor Lucius, he must have been exhausted.  And he did have a fondness for turnips.  But this last part, about visiting Captain Scarbelly—“

“Scarbelly?” asked Kham.  He clumped back up the steps of the basement.  “He’s bad news.”

Egil nodded.  “He’s the captain of the Bloody Vengeance.  It’s crewed by orcs.”

“I have heard of this orc,” said Ilmarė.  “He claims to have killed twenty nine men in hand-to-hand combat.”

Vlad slapped one hand on the hilt of his longsword.  “Let’s make sure he doesn’t hit thirty.”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 4a: The Bloody Vengeance*

The Bloody Vengeance was a crudely built orc ship, roughly 90 feet long.  It was battle-scarred but seaworthy.

“Interesting,” said Dril, looking out the dirty window of the Rusty Hook. “No other ships are moored nearby.”

The ship’s sail was furled, but the crow’s nest held an orc lookout armed with a shortbow.  Two other orcs guarded the gangway, their scowls and jagged swords encouraging passersby to keep walking.

Kham walked back from the bar to join them at the table.  He spun a chair around to straddle it.  “Captain Scarbelly deals in ‘safe transportation of items of importance’.  So I figure I’ve got just the thing for him to transport.”

“Like what?” asked Vlad.

“Me,” said Kham with a grin.  

“Kham,” said Ilmarė, her voice rising.  “What are you up to?”

“I’m just going to take a tour of the Bloody Vengeance.”  Kham nodded to Dril.  Then both Altherins got up and left.  Vlad and Ilmarė saw them head towards the orc ship when Kham suddenly disappeared.

A few seconds later, Captain Scarbelly came into the Rusty Hook.  Or rather, he stumbled in along with four of his orc compatriots.  He was a brooding hulk with straggly black dreadlocks and a tattered cloak.  An axe hung from his belt in open view—no one seemed inclined to challenge him about it.

Scarbelly and his orcs sat down at a table, kicking drunken patrons out of the way.  “Gimme sumtin’ t’eat!” he shouted.

The bartender hopped into action.  Sloshing plates of gruel were slapped onto the table.  Mugs of ale appeared in front of each of the orcs.

Scarbelly downed a mug in one shot.  Foam dripped from his lower fangs. 

“More!” he shouted.  

The bartender brought another round of mugs.  The second time, he whispered in Scarbelly’s ear.

Scarbelly turned to look at him.  “What? Ye think this be a freakin' escort service? 'ere be dis guy?”

The bartender looked back to scan the crowd.  

Ilmarė tensed up.  “They’re looking for Kham.”

The orcs slurped their meals, practically taking bites out of the wooden bowls as they did so.  

“Well?” shouted Scarbelly.  “Ye get me all excited about some treasure an' now th' guy doesn’t show up?”  

“If they get back to the ship while Kham is on it…” said Vlad. 

Ilmarė closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”

Vlad looked at her in bewilderment.  “Do what?”

With a shout, Ilmarė hopped up onto their table.  Throwing her arms wide, she began to sing:

“Oooooooh, WHO LIVES IN A GROTTO DOWN UNDER THE SEA?”

There was a moment of shocked silence.  Then Scarbelly and his orcs began whooping it up.  They sang back:

“LEV-I-A-THAN!”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 4b: The Bloody Vengeance*

“So what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” said Kham, patting himself down until he found the potion he was looking for.  “You must be new.  I don’t do plans.”

“Okay,” said Dril.  “Well, I can’t see you any more.”

Kham faded from site as a result of his invisibility potion.

“And here I thought our first date was going so well,” said Kham.  “Keep the guards busy.”

Dril shook his head and slowly strode out to the dock where the Bloody Vengeance was anchored.  There were two orcs standing guard at the end of the gangplank.

“Hey!” said one of them as Dril approached.  “That’s far enough!  Bugger off!”

“Easy,” said Dril, with his hands up.  “I heard your Captain at the Rusty Hook talking about transporting items of importance.  I’m new in town.”

“An’ I’m Lord Drac,” said the one orc.  They broke into snorting laughter.  “I don’t care who th' hell ye be, get ou' o' here.”  He pointed his bow for emphasis.

“I may have something he’d be interested in transporting, but if you want to tell him you passed up on a thousand Imperials, that’s fine with me.”  Dril turned to leave

“Wait,” said one of the orcs.  “Th’ Capt’n does carry some stuff.”

“Like magic staves,” said the other orc.

“Shut up!” said the first orc.  “Th' Capt’n told us nay t' tell anyone ’bout dat!”

The second orc ignored him.  “So what do ye be havin' in mind?”

A light breeze wafted past Dril, stirring his cloak.  “Nice plan,” whispered Kham.  “Keep them busy.  I’ll meet you back at the docks.”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 4c: The Bloody Vengeance*

Kham padded into the officer’s quarters.  He had already searched aft castle, only to discover the crew slept there instead of the captain.  Being in the front of the boat, even a galleon, meant it would rock like crazy during choppy waters.  Not usually the place the Captain of a ship would choose to sleep.  Kham attributed the strange bedding arrangements to orcs being complete morons.

The cabin beneath the forecastle was small and cramped.  There were two beds, a table, and a chest large enough to hold a person.  In one of the beds, covered by a sheet, was a very large figure.  His chest rose rhtymically to titanic snoring.  Two massive orc feet protruded from the edge of the bed, tipped with ugly yellow toenails.

“I hope you’re not in there, Lucius,” thought Kham to himself.  “Because that means you’re probably dead.”

He leaned close to the chest to listen to it.  It was covered with sea charts and navigational equipment.  A large iron lock was clearly visible.

Kham pulled his trusty dagger from his jacket.  With a twist, he turned the hilt and lock picks sprung out.  After feeling each of the picks, Kham decided on one and inserted it into the lock.

There was a soft click.  “Piece of cake,” Kham though to himself.

Then his left arm went numb.  Something had pinched the top of his hand while he was fiddling with the lock.  

Poison!  Kham knew he had to work fast.  He put the dagger back in his overcoat and slowly lifted the lid.  It was heavy, heavy enough that he had to strain to keep it from slamming open and dumping everything on top of it to the floor.

There was a low, rolling sound.  An Altherian compass, undoubtedly taken off the body of an Altherian captain, wobbled its way across the lid…

Kham snapped his right hand out to catch the compass just as it would have hit the deck.  His left arm was still tingling.

There was a five-foot long staff inside.  It lay atop a pile of Imperials.  Keeping the chest propped open with his shoulder, Kham reached in and gently pulled it out.

The staff was carved with a scale motif.  Kham didn’t take time to inspect it.  It looked important, and that was enough for him.

He made his way to the porthole and slowly, carefully opened it.  Amazingly, it didn’t squeak.  

Kham paused.  Leaving the chest unlocked would definitely arouse suspicion.  He wanted to be long gone by the time the orcs figured out they had lost the staff.  

We padded back to the chest.  Checking himself, he carefully placed the compass back on the lid.  He turned away…

And turned back.  They would surely notice the padlock unlocked.  But his arm was tingling worse than before.  The sensation had traveled all the way up to his shoulder.

It was simple.  He could do it easily with his right hand.  All he had to do was lock the padlock back together.  

“Piece of…”

CLICK.

The figure under the covers sat bolt upright.  “RUH?!”

Kham threw the staff through the porthole.  

The gigantic orc’s bleary eyes focused on Kham.  “What the…?”

“Guess the potion wore off,” said Kham.  He kept his head tucked tightly between his extended arms and dove out the porthole.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 4d: The Bloody Vengeance*

Inside the Rusty Hook, the orcs kept singing.  Scarbelly was leading the chorus.

“Got dis staff from Kenzil, we’re keepin' 't safe!
Yo, ho, he pays really well! 
I’m wearin' nay loincloth an' these britches chafe! 
Yo, ho, he does really smell! 
We tookst up this freak an' pillaged some towns! 
Yo, ho, he pays really well! 
Four voyages later an' he’s still around! 
Yo, ho, he’s really nay well! 
He asked me some questions an' I told 'im nay lies! 
Yo, ho, he’s really nay well! 
But th' fool saw 't all wi' his own bloody eyes! 
Yo, ho, he can go t' hell!”

The pirates erupted into drunken cheers.  Vlad made it a point of buying them a steady supply of drinks.  Whenever the orcs’ interest seemed to lag, Ilmarė would whip them up into a frenzy.  She hopped from table to table, sloshed ale around in mugs, and occasionally winked at Scarbelly.

She was…acting like a pirate wench.  Vlad was agog.

Then a huge, muscular orc ran in.  He was wearing a chain shirt and little else. 

“Intruder!” he shouted.  “What’s wrong wi’ ye! I`ve been shoutin' t' th' rooftops!”

The singing stopped.  Ilmarė hopped down from the table.

“What th' hell be wrong wi' YOU?” shouted Scarbelly.  “We be jus' havin' some fun wi' that juicy morsel o'er there,” said the captain.  His tongue licked one of his protruding fangs as he looked Ilmarė up and down. 

“Thar be an intruder in me room!” shouted Aggro, the first mate.  “I saw th' lad wi' me own eyes!”

“This better nay be another one o' yer bad dreams,” said Scarbelly.  

“Shut up! 't wasn’t about seagulls!” shouted Aggro, who towered over Scarbelly.  

Scarbelly took up his axe.  “Fine, we’ll check 't ou'. You,” he pointed at Ilmarė.  “Ye wait right here.  I’ll be back fer ye.”

Ilmarė blanched, but nodded.

The orcs stumbled out of the Rusty Hook.  Vlad watched them make their way to the Bloody Vengeance.

“Should we help Kham?”

“At this point,” said Ilmarė, “I think we need to help ourselves.”

A few seconds later a bell rang loudly from the Bloody Vengeance.  

“Time to go!” said Ilmarė.  She skidded to the front door.  An archer from the crow’s nest of the ship drew a bead on her.  

Ilmarė ducked as an arrow shivered in the Rusty Hook’s door, where her head had been.  She dashed off down the docks, clearing a shipping crate with one leap.

Vlad, in full plate armor, struggled to do the same.  Ilmarė turned as he scrabbled over the crate like a crab. 

“Stupid human,” she yanked Vlad over the top of the crate.  He fell on the other side as arrows thudded around them. “When are you going to learn to stop wearing such heavy armor?”

An arrow KA-TANGED off of his armor.

“When people stop shooting things at me,” said Vlad.  Then they took off into the heart of Freeport.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 5: The Temple*

They stood in front of an impressive structure, with a vaulted frame that soared up over a hundred feet.  Large bronze doors stood open, revealing a tiled atrium.  Statues of the god indicated that the chamber was the center of worship, but balconies line with books reached all the way to the frescoed ceiling.  It was much library as temple; rows of silent scholars working in the balconies attested to its importance as both.

“I don’t get it,” said Vlad.  “What’s the staff got to do with Lucius?”

“I’m not sure,” said Kham.  “I’ve left it in safe hands for now.  But if we’re going to get questions answered, I figure we should go to the source.”  He nodded in the direction of the Temple of Althares. 

“If I heard the orcs correctly,” said Ilmarė, “Scarbelly and his crew were responsible for ferrying Lucius around during his ‘manic’ period.  Perhaps Egil can shed more light on his friend’s behavior.”

They had left Dril to watch the Bloody Vengeance in case anyone came calling for the staff or Lucius showed up there.

Kham strode up to the young man standing at the front door.  He exchanged words with the temple novice, who disappeared to fetch someone else.

A few minutes later, a slight man with pince-nez huffed up to Kham.  “I’m afraid you cannot thee Brother Egil,” he said with a strong lisp.  “He’th buthy.  I’m Miloth.  If you have quethtionth for him, you can talk to me.”

Kham looked back at Ilmarė as if to ask, “Is this guy for real?”  Then he turned back to Milos.  “Okay, Miloth—“

“Miloth,” said Milos.

“That’s what I said,” said Kham.  “Miloth.”

“No, MiloTH,” said Milos.

“Look, whatever your name is.  We had some questions for Egil regarding Lucius.  You remember Lucius, right?”

“Why yeth, yeth I do.  Brother Lucthiuth was an exthellent librarian.  Unfortunately, he made theveral poor choiceth during his thtay.  He wath away from the temple until rethently.  Brother Lucthiuth hath not been here in a couple of dayth.  I have no idea where he ith.”

“Was he acting strangely before he left?” asked Dril.

Milos adjusted his pince-nez.  “He appeared increathingly haggard over the patht theveral monthth.  He altho began athking some very thrange quethionth.  The high prietht himthelf had a talk with him.”

“Questions?” asked Ilmarė.  “What kind of questions?”

“He theemed to have forgotten why he was exthpelled from the temple.  As if he weren’t there himthelf!  No one neeth to be reminded that Luthiuth violated the thanctum.”

In the background, Kham could see Egil.  He was doing his best to pretend he didn’t know them.

“What exactly is involved in violating a sanctum?” asked Kham aloud.

“Look, I’m thure you have thomething better to do with your time.  I’m thorry your friend ith mithing.  We don’t have the rethourceth to mount a thearch partieth for every librarian who failth to come to work.  In any cathe, there’th no evidenthe of foul play.  I’m sure Luthiuth ith jutht thleeping off a hangover thomewhere.  Good day.”

He spun on his heel and left in a huff.

“Well fine!” said Kham to Milos’ back.  “Be sure to tell Egil that it’s over between us!”

They all looked at him in shock.

“What was that all about?” asked Vlad.

“Nothing, I just didn’t want to get Egil in trouble for asking all of those questions.  He’s obviously being watched.”

“And THAT made it MUCH better,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 6: Yellow Shields at Sunset*

The sun was setting in the west, silhouetting the Lighthouse of Drac beautifully with its dying rays. 

“They call that Milton’s folly,” said Kham, staring upwards at the lighthouse.  Just three months to go, but it took ten years to build.”

There was the unmistakable THWACK! of crossbows discharging.  As bolts flew through the air, a group of warriors carrying yellow shields burst out of a nearby alley, swords drawn.

The leader, accoutered in black studded leather, stepped forward with two thugs.  

“You’ve got a nice bounty on your head, Cam,” said the leader.  “We’re here to collect.  And we’ll take that staff back too.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “The Yellow Shield gang.”

“You know these guys?” asked Vlad.

“Yeah, that leader’s Rittoro,” said Kham.  He pulled two pistols from his overcoat.

Ilmarė spun on her heel.  “We’ve got more company.”

A bald sorcerer with eyebrows dyed bright red stepped into the alley with another mercenary.  

“That’d be Belko, the sorcerer,” said Kham.  “Now that we’re all acquainted, let me introduce you to the ladies!”

Vlad roared a challenge and slammed into the yellow shield of the leader.  Rittoro grunted in surprise from the force of the blow and than retaliated by hacking at Vlad’s head.  Shield met axe and sword met shield as the two clashed again and again.

Ilmarė drew her elven thinblade in a flash, just in time to parry a Yellow Shield’s short sword.

Belko stepped towards them.  “Enough of this: Incensio terum!”

A fan of flames arced from his extended fingertips.  Kham dove forward and rolled underneath the fire even as the flames washed over Vlad’s armor.

Kham rolled to his feet behind Belko.  Belko looked over his shoulder in surprise.  “Oh sh—“

BLAM! BLAM!

Two gaping holes appeared in the sorcerer’s chest. He fell to the ground, dead.

Kham rolled to the side just as a blade sliced at his head.  He hopped up to his feet and pulled a scimitar and Flesh Ripper from their sheaths. 

“If I were you,” said Kham.  “I’d leave.  The bounty on my head just isn’t worth it.”

Ilmarė dodged to the right as the mercenary’s shorter blade slashed forward.  She flicked her blade and drew blood.  

There was a SPTANG! as a crossbow bolt bounced off of Vlad’s helmet.  “Someone take care of the sniper!” he shouted.  

“I can’t!” said Ilmarė, skipping backwards from a clumsy swipe.

Rittoro took advantage of the distraction and smashed Vlad sideways with his axe.  The big man went down in a clatter of plate armor.

Kham dodged another sword strike and came in low.  Then Kham crossed his arms and, with one smooth scissor motion, used his two blades to cut the mercenary’s legs out from under him.  He slid backwards into the alley wall in a smear of blood.

Up on the rooftop, the Yellow Shield sniper struggled with his crossbow. 

“Let me help you with that.”

The mercenary looked up just in time to see Dril’s scimitar and dagger stab into his chest.  He fell backward off the roof, tumbling into the alley.

Rittoro and the remaining mercenary had enough.  They took off in opposite directions.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Dril.  He took careful aim with his dagger.  Rittoro huffed down the street.

Ten paces.

Twenty paces.

Thirty paces.

The blade went whistling through the air, end over end.  It skewered the Rittoro in the back, stopping him in his tracks.  He spun, one hand struggling to remove the blade, and fell flat on his face.

“Nice shot,” said Kham.  He stepped over to Rittoro.  “Now, where were we.  Oh yeah, you were going to tell us who hired you.”

Dril hopped down from the rooftop into the alley.  Rittoro looked groggily up at Kham.  “Who didn’t?”

Kham put one foot on Rittoro’s head.  “Elaborate.”

“Well, words out about that bounty on your head at the Rusty Hook.  And then there’s Scarbelly.  And Enzo.”

“Nice plan,” said Ilmarė to Kham.  “Who’s Enzo?”

“Enzo.  Little weasel.  I’m supposed to meet him at the Black Gull tavern in an hour with proof of completing the mission.”

Dril leaned down to snap a pouch off of Rittoro’s neck.  He emptied its contents on top of Rittoro’s back, then took out a crumpled piece of paper and read it.

“Directions.  Good.  So,” he yanked the dagger out of Rittoro’s back.  The mercenary leader grunted in pain. “I recommend you leave before our friend here,” he nodded over at Vlad, “gets up and remembers what happened.”

Rittoro got to his knees.  “Forget this town, I quit.”  He pushed his yellow shield away.  “Hey Cam, no hard feelings.”

Kham twitched. “It’s pronounced KAI-YEM!”  

The last thing Rittoro saw was Kham’s boot in his face.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 7: The Bricked-Up House*

Somewhere in the Eastern District of Freeport, a man with hands bound and a hood over his head ran willy-nilly down the street.

“You think he’s going to survive Freeport like that?” asked Vlad.

“His odds are considerably better than with the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s lucky we didn’t kill him outright.”

“The elf’s right,” said Kham.  “Enzo was an errand boy.  You don’t send a tailor as your go-between for a hit unless he’s expendable.”

“Fortunately, he’s quite talkative,” said Dril, returning his knife to its sheath beneath his full-body cloak.  He nodded towards a bricked up house.  “This is it.”

The house was nondescript, which made it the perfect hideout.  The dilapidated exterior was made of wood, but the windows were all bricked up.  Two steps led up to a stout-looking wooden door.

Dril tried the door.  “Locked,” he said.

Kham stepped up to the task.  A moment later, it sprung open. 

Inside, the place was a wreck.  There were piles of masonry and garbage everywhere.  It was impossible to tell how many rooms the place may have once had.  

“There’s a trapdoor,” said Ilmarė.  “There.”  She pointed at a wooden trapdoor in the floor.

Vlad led the way down the trapdoor to an old wine cellar.  The walls were lined with nine large casks made of oak, each about six-feet tall and nearly eight-feet long.  

“No dust,” said Kham, wiping one finger along the top of one of the barrels.  He rapped on one of the casks with his knuckles.  It sounded hollow.  “This is the entrance.  Vlad, wanna knock?”

Vlad stepped up to the barrel.  “My pleasure.”  It took only two hacks before the wood splintered, revealing a stone passage and more stairs leading down. 

“Who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the cult headquarters first?” asked Kham.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 8a: Intersection*

“Well,” said Ilmarė, staring down at Vlad flat on his back in a pit.  “There goes our element of surprise.”

Dril and Kham dropped a rope down to help Vlad out of the pit trap.  The two men strained as Vlad took hold and began pulling himself up. 

“Althares!” cursed Kham.  “You must weigh another 50 pounds because of that armor!”

They were at a T-shaped intersection, with a door before them and another to their right.  

“Which way?” asked Dril.

“Forward,” said Vlad, climbing out of the pit.  “I’m really in the mood to hit something right now.”

“Okay, great,” said Kham.  “So you go be angry in the lead.  I’m going to hang back a bit, just in case we get ambushed.”

“That’s a relief,” said Ilmarė.  “I feel much safer now.”

Vlad kicked the door.  It slammed opened and nearly closed again from the force.  

Dril pushed the door open.  A long corridor with doors on either side veered off in the distance.

“Strange,” said Dril, “if this is a Pit, I would expect to encountered resistance by now.”

“What do you mean by Pit?” asked Ilmarė, looking at him sideways.

Dril didn’t answer her.  He walked over to the left door and listened to it.  “I don’t hear anything.”

Vlad blinked.  “I don’t either.  Speaking of which…why is Kham so quiet?”

They turned to look.  

Behind them, framed in the open doorway, Kham stood frozen in profile.  His expression was blank, his eyes wide.

“Kham?” asked Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 8b: Intersection*

Vlad leaped through the doorway in front of Kham, only to be yanked out of sight of the doorway.  Dril followed fast behind him with scimitar and dagger at the ready.  Ilmarė drew her bow and peered around the doorway.

Two snake-like creatures with humanoid arms hacked and hissed at Vlad and Dril.  Their heads were triangular and snake-like, reminiscent of that of a massive viper.  Their bodies glistened, reflecting a myriad of fine scales that covered their forms.  Their eyes, like golden orbs, glowed in the ambient light.

Each snake person wielded a scimitar in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.  They darted, as fast as any serpent, bobbing their heads and coiling their bodies around the slower humans. 

“Ssanu!” shouted Ilmarė.  

“Don’t look at their eyes!” said Dril.  He kept his gaze focused on the creature’s torso as he parried a scimitar strike and retaliated with his dagger.

Frustrated and unable to get a clear shot, Ilmarė turned to focus on Kham instead.

Kham continued to stare off into space, his eyes glazed over.  The look of surprise when the ssanu entered from the secret door was still etched on his face. 

She slapped him.  Hard.

Kham nearly spun around from the blow.  “Ow,” he said. 

Vlad hacked at the head of one of the ssanu, dropping it.  The other had its coils around Dril.  It sank its teeth into his right forearm.

Dril grunted and stabbed the ssanu through its lower jaw with his dagger.  It silently expired, slumping off of the Altherian.

“You handle yourself well,” said Vlad, kicking the corpse of the ssanu away from him.  

“Not that well,” said Dril.  His arm already looked purplish.  It hung limply at his side.  “If you don’t mind,” he said, pulling his cloak back with one hand, “could you grab the fifth potion from the right out of its holster and put it in my left hand?”

Vlad hesitated, but did as he was told.  Dril wore a bandolier across one shoulder filled with vials of potions of a variety of colors.  He popped the cork with his mouth and smeared the viscous liquid on the wound.  Dril hissed in pain as pus oozed out of the two puncture marks.

“You’ve fought these things before?” asked Vlad.

“I have,” said Dril.  “I’ve been on the trail of one of the ssanu from Altheria.”

Ilmarė examined the corpses.  “These ssanu are young.  But they have no business being here, this deep in human lands.  I fear the worst.”

Kham rubbed his cheek.  “It can get worse?”

“Are you all right?” Vlad wiped his sword on one of the dead ssanu. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have,” said Ilmarė.  “Creatures like these created my race.”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 9: Treasury*

“Now what?” said Kham, his features concealed in shadow by the flickering torchlight.  “We just keep walking until something kills us?”

“This is clearly a passageway the ssanu use to move from place to place,” said Dril.  “If we follow it, we may be able to find the heart of the Pit.”

“I’m not so sure I WANT to find the heart of this Pit,” said Kham.  “There’s just four of us, remember?”

“Speak for yourself,” said Vlad.  “I’ll take on whatever these snakes can dish out.”

Ilmarė agreed with him.  “If the ssanu are here in Freeport, then they are more powerful than we imagined.  If we don’t stop them here, they may spread.”

“Better to cut off the head of the viper in its lair,” said Dril.

“Oh, very symbolic,” said Kham.  He leaned on part of the tunnel.  “You guys go ahead and kill yourselves.  Let me know how it works ouAAAAH!”

A piece of the tunnel slid away behind Kham, opening into another room.  Kham fell into a garish purple curtain and promptly found himself wrapped up in it.

Kham felt blindly in front of him.  His fingers touched cold metal. “That’s a chest!” he shouted.  “This is their treasure room!”

“Whoa,” said Vlad behind him, peering into the room.  “Good job.”

The sound of clattering of bones surrounded Kham.  He stretched out his fingers again.  This time he felt something cold and rough.

“You may want to move back, Kham,” said Ilmarė. 

Kham tugged the cloth from his face, just in time to see a bastard sword swing down at his head. 

He ducked and rolled, coming up next to a chest.  There were four skeletal corpses, all armed with swords and shields.  They turned to advance on the others.

Kham whipped his dagger out…

…and immediately set to using the lockpicks hidden in the pommel to pick the lock of one of the chests.

“Kham, what are you doing?” asked Ilmarė as she ducked a clumsy swing.  “Shoot them!”

“You guys can handle those things,” said Kham.  There was a gratifying click as he twisted the dagger in the lock.  “I’ll take care of the chests.”

“We’ve been broke for awhile,” said Vlad.  He blocked a sword blow with his shield.  “He spent it all on potions. And alcohol.”

“Remind me to hurt him later,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 10: Cave of the Degenerates*

Kham struggled behind everyone else, dragging two chests as he walked.  They made a horrible screeching noise with each step.

“If we ever had any hope of the element of surprise, it’s long gone now,” said Dril ruefully.

“Well,” said Vlad, admiring his new shield, “the shield is nice.”  It had an image of a serpent upon it, with arrows flying towards it.

They were in a large, irregular cavern.  It was different from the other rooms in that it was both older and more primitive.  The cave was scattered with bones, refuse, and filth.  The lapping of a dark pool echoed from one corner.  

“That leads to the ocean,” said Ilmarė.  “It has a current.”

“You know, all this water makes me have to pee.”  Kham wiped his forehead.  “Can we go now?”

“No,” said Ilmarė.  She walked up to a part of the cavern wall and pressed on it.  “The ssanu must be eliminated.  Every last one.”

The wall popped open into a much larger room lit by blazing torches.  They had reached the heart of the Pit.  

It was a large chamber flanked with pillars.  Each pillar had a giant stone snake coiled around it and the motif continued on frescoes along the walls and floor.  The room was large enough to house another structure, a grandiose hall, within it.

Kham dropped both of the chests.  He turned to look at Dril.  “They’ve been here for awhile, huh?”

Dril nodded, muted by the spectacle.  The craftsmanship involved would have taken decades.

“Well,” said Kham, “we may as well see if anyone’s home.”  He drew two of his pistols and jogged up the steps to the front of the hall.  Dril and Vlad followed close behind.

Kham peered around the corner into the room.  An altar of black basalt stood at the far end of the hall and a strange yellow symbol was inscribed on the wall behind it.  There was a statue of a tentacled horror in front of it.

Two figures in robes lurked behind the far pillars, loaded crossbows at the ready.  Behind the pillar stood a small man wearing red and black robes with a full hood.  A skull-shaped mask covered his face.

“You are the firth outthiders to ever reach the Temple of the Unthpeakable One,” said the unmistakable voice.  “Your achievement detherveth congratulationth.  It ith altho your doom!”

“Is that who I think it is?” asked Vlad.

“Althares help us,” said Kham.  “It’s Milos.”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 11: Temple of the Unspeakable Oath*

“You mutht learn rethopect!” shouted Milos.  

“How can anyone possibly respect you when you talk like that?”  Kham shouted back, pistols cocked.

BLAM! BLAM!

Both shots ricocheted off an invisible shield that surrounded Milos.  

“Damn,” muttered Kham.

Milos pointed at Kham with his staff.  An expression of horror crept over Kham’s face.  Then he turned and fled through double doors at the other end of the hall.

Vlad and Dril stood on opposite sides of the temple’s opening.  They watched Kham run screaming past them.

“Our turn,” said Dril.  “Keep your eyes down.”

With a shout, Vlad and Dril charged forward into the temple.  A huge pool was at its center, surrounded by tiles patterned in the form of coiled serpents.  

One of the temple attendants pointed at Vlad with his mace.  The warrior froze in mid-step.

Dril kept coming.  The other attendant pointed at him, but the Altherian was unaffected.  His scimitar sliced through the unarmored attendant’s torso and jutted out of his back.

Ilmarė fired an arrow at the other attendant, who was forced to duck behind one of the pillars.  A crossbow bolt answered her attack but went wide.

“Vlad!” shouted Ilmarė.  “Snap out of it!”

Vlad stood, dazed.  He was oblivious to the combat that raged around him.

Suddenly, Ilmarė’s clear voice pierced the din of battle.  “_Cuiva Vlad!_” she sang, demanding him to awaken.

Dril pointed his dagger at Milos. “I’m coming for you next!”

“_Tira nottolya,_” sang Ilmarė.  She asked them to face their foes.

“Oh, really?” asked Milos.  He pointed with his spear at Dril.  “Kneel before your mathter.”

“_Tulta tuolya,_” sang Ilmarė.  She asked her allies to summon forth their strength.

Sweat broke out on Dril’s brow, as the magic forced his knees buckle.  He fell to one knee.  Then his other slowly bent until both knees touched the ground.  Dril’s neck was on fire; he fought it with all his might, but the magic was too powerful for him to resist.  He bowed his head in supplication before Milos.

“_An mauya mahtie,_” sang Ilmarė.  They had to fight!

Dril was at war with his own body.  “Where…” he grunted, “is Lucius?”

“Why you are tho interethted in that librarian, I’ll never know,” said Milos.  He sauntered down the steps from the altar to where Dril was kneeling. 

“_Ter oiomornie,_” sang Ilmarė.  They would battle through endless darkness.

“He ith inthignificant in the thcheme of thingth,” said Milos, “but you are welcome to die for him.”

“_Ter ondicilyar,_” sang Ilmarė.  They would battle through chasms of stone.

Vlad shook his head, clearing the cobwebs.  He raised his shield just in time to block another shot from a crossbow.  The bolt hovered before the serpent shield as if caught in a net.  Then it dropped to the ground.

“Whoa,” said Vlad, staring down at his shield.

“_Mettanna!_” sang Ilmarė.  They would fight to the end.

Vlad bellowed a charge and, filled with the hope and glory of Ilmarė’s song, slammed into the attendant in a rage.  The man was unprepared for the full force of a fully armed warrior.  He went down with little resistance.

Milos raised his spear, ensuring he would inflict a killing blow on Dril.

“_Nurunna!_” sang Ilmarė.  They would fight to the death!

The music sliced through the haze that had taken control of Dril’s body.  Dril rolled to the side as the spear came down where his head would be.

Milos looked up as Vlad stalked towards him from one side and Dril rose to his feet on the other.  He ran back to the center of the altar.

With arms outstretched, he shouted, “By the Yellow Thign, we will rule!” 

Then an arrow shivered at the center of his forehead.  Milos turned and fell forward from the raised altar into the serpent pool with a splash.  

“Remind me not to make you angry,” said Dril over his shoulder to his Elorii companion.

As the cultist’s eyes glazed over in death, a terrible transformation took place.  His skin and bones rearranged themselves in a most unnatural way. His human visage was gone.  Milos lay revealed as a monstrous creature, a serpent man with scaly skin and forked tongue.  

“Another ssanu,” said Ilmarė.  “I wonder how long he carried on this deception.”

“More importantly,” said Dril, “are there others like him in Freeport?  We’ve only encountered three ssanu.  There would be many more in a Pit of this size.”

Vlad climbed back down the dias with an unconscious Lucius in his arms.  “It looks like he’s hurt, but I think he’ll survive.”

Dril blinked.  “Speaking of survivors…where’s Kham?”


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Part 12: Initiation Chamber*

Kham ran down the hallway and threw open the nearest double doors.  In his feverish mind, putting as many barriers between him and Milos was paramount.  The doors seemed like a good place to start.

Within the octagonal chamber, the entire room was painted black.  The ceiling shimmered with stars like the sky at night.  There was a circular depression in the center of the room, some ten feet deep.  On the far wall was a sturdy table covered with ritual paraphernalia: a gong, incense burners, two candelabras, and some other items he couldn’t make out.  No one was in sight.

And just as suddenly, the terror wore off.  

Kham straightened and smoothed his jacket.  Running from a cultist was understandable, but running from a lisping idiot like Milos was unforgivable.  He would be sure to let the ladies have a chat with Milos, Altherian-style.

Then he remembered his bladder.  The fear had nearly caused him to wet his pants.  

“So Lucius violated an inner sanctum of Althares,” said Kham with a smirk.  He unbuttoned his pants.  “Well, Milos, let’s see what your ‘Unthpeakable One’ thinks of this!”

And with that, he peed on the altar, the gong, the incense burners, one of the candelabras, and anything else in range.

When he was finished relieving himself, Kham buttoned his pants back up.  He turned to go…

Above him, the stars seemed to twinkle as if they really were the night sky.  Then he felt a presence—and the circular depression erupted with yellow tentacles. 

One look at them confirmed Kham’s worst fears.  He was staring at the Unspeakable One itself, and his bleary, tired, and more than a little hung over mind was in no shape to stare into the blasted abyss.  With a shout, he ran screaming from the room.


----------



## talien

*Death in Freeport - Conclusion*

“So everybody lives happily ever after, right?”

Kham was already halfway through a bottle of wine at the Pale Plate.  

“Apparently, Milos sent Lucius on an errand to that Pit,” said Dril.  “Milos tortured him, asking questions after question about his memories and nightmares.”

“When a cult like that takes an interest in you, it’s never a good thing,” said Vlad.

“No, it isn’t,” said Dril.  “I’m going to keep an eye on Lucius.  I don’t trust him.”

Ilmarė nodded.  “And I will monitor the priests of Althares,” she said grimly.  “It would be like the ssanu to use your false gods as a front for their cult.”

“You two do that,” said Kham.  “I uh, have to leave town for awhile.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the bounty on your head, would it?”

“Which one?” asked Kham.  “I’m starting to lose track. What about you, Vlad?”

Vlad shrugged.  “I’ll go where the money is.”

“Speaking of which,” said Dril, “I thought Brother Egil said all priests of Althares take a vow of poverty.”

“So?” asked Vlad.

“Then where,” asked Dril, staring out the window at the docks, “did he get the money to pay us?”


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Introduction*

This is a free adventure that takes place in Freeport, written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can download the adventure at: http://64.17.155.164/gr_files/focus05a.pdf. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Vlad Martell (human ftr4) played by Matt Hammer
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf brd4/ftr1) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Naruis Drilian (human rog1/rgr2) played by Mike Best

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session.  

This short adventure focuses on a pirate captain, so it wasn’t much of a leap to flesh out Baldric’s personality a bit more and give him something else to do besides chew scenery and make people sing sea chanties.  I also made some tweaks to tie it into the overall plot of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.  Even though it’s a short adventure, everyone had their chance to do their part—Dril especially, being that he’s the “urban guy.”

I got to use quite a few props, as you’ll see in the pictures.  I also increased the hit dice of the main bad guy at the end considerably, but the poor monster (who doesn’t even have a name!) still had a rough time of it.  And oh yeah, the reason the dire rat is so huge is…well, because I don’t have a mini that matches the size of your usual dire rat, so I beefed it up considerably.


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 1: A Knife in the Back*

It was a bright and sunny day in the city of Freeport. The city was abuzz with activity because it was Swagfest, one of the city’s most important holidays. Celebrating the Great Raid of Sea Lords Drac and Francisco, in which the fleet of Freeport terrorized the maritime nations for three months and brought back loads of booty, Swagfest was a daylong party that shut the city down with revelry.

Dril shook his head as he entered the Pale Plate, exchanging glances with Ilmarė.  “No luck,” he said.

The beautiful elorii sighed.  “I lost track of the librarian as well,” she said.  “I don’t know how we could lose them so quickly.”

“Not that hard,” said Vlad as Dril pulled up a chair.  “The city’s so crowded, I’m lucky I was able to find my way here.”

“There’s not much to do,” said Dril, “besides wait until Swagfest’s over. Maybe Lucius and Egil will show up drunk somewhere.”

“Captain Baldric’s launching Swagfest in a few minutes,” said Ilmarė with a grimace.  “If you think it’s crowded now, just wait until he gets going.”

“We may as well see what Baldric’s up to,” said Vlad.  Out the window, Vlad could see Baldric standing on a temporary stage near a long pier.

“As long as he doesn’t try to make me sing anything,” muttered Dril.

“Seems the Captain has his eyes on something more than music,” said Ilmarė.  “I hear he’s pushing for a seat on the Captain’s Council.”

Vlad got up and walked to the door.  “That explains why he’s suddenly so excited about Swagfest.”

“You two go on ahead,” said Dril. “I’m going to try to get a better view from the docks.”  He weaved his way into the crowd and disappeared.

Ilmarė joined Vlad as a trumpet sounded.  Captain Baldric, a big fellow with long scraggly hair and an eye patch, stepped forward.

Baldric raised his hands to address the crowd. “Arrr, mateys, an' welcome t' Swagfest! 't be me honor t' begin th' festivities this voyage. As ye well know, Sea Lord Drac be busy wi' his lighthouse, so 't falls on yer humble cap’n t' take this duty. Be ye ready fer plunder an' pillage?”

The crowd roared its approval.  Ilmarė rolled her eyes.

“I said, BE YE READY FER PLUNDER AN' PILLAGE?”

The crowd shouted even louder, and this time Vlad hooted along with them.  Ilmarė glared at him.

“Two bucketfull o' voyages ago,” shouted Captain Baldric, ” th' fleet o' Freeport first tookst t' th' waves. Two mighty captains had we, an' th' landlubbers shuddered as th' captains gave ‘em fire an' Freeport steel!”

“What was that?” asked Ilmarė.

“What?” Vlad asked back. The din of the crowd was so loud that he couldn’t understand her.

“I saw someone slip towards the rear of the stage,” said Ilmarė.  

“What?” shouted Vlad, louder this time.

“I said,” Ilmarė shouted back, “I think there’s someone on the stage!”

“You mean Baldric?” asked Vlad.

“No,” said Ilmarė.  She pointed at the stage in exasperation.

Just then, Dril whistled past them.  “Assassin!” he snarled, scimitar and dagger out.

The crowd parted like water before Dril, but it was too late. A cloaked woman stepped out from the curtain and stabbed Baldric in the back.  He went down, hard.

Screams erupted as panic gripped the gathered masses of pirates, sailors, and common folk.  Vlad lifted his heavy crossbow off of his back.  It automatically loaded itself with a bolt as he took aim.

Ilmarė’s bow was out in a flash, but the crowd jostled her, ruining her shot.  

Dril slashed at the assassin’s legs. She hopped easily over his swipe.  Then she took a few steps backwards.

Ilmarė gave up trying to draw her bow.  “She’s going to—“ 

The assassin launched herself into the air, clearing the ten feet from the pier to the water.  With the skill of an accomplished diver, she plunged gracefully into the water with barely a splash.

“Jump,” finished Ilmarė.

“Wish I could jump like that,” said Dril.

Ilmarė struggled to get to the stage.  She threw up her hands in disgust. “Vlad?”

The big man took his shield off of his back.  “OUT OF THE WAY!” bellowed Vlad.  Then he rammed forward, abruptly sweeping men and women to the side.

Ilmarė finally made it to the stage, where Baldric lay face down in an expanding pool of his own blood.  

Dril stood over the fallen captain.  “He’s hurt,” he said.  “Bad.”

The elorii waved him off.  She put her hands on the Captain’s coat and whispered something to the spirits of the sea. 

There was a low groan.  Then Baldric struggled to his feet. Dril helped him up.  

“Now then, 'ere be I…” said the Captain, scanning the milling crowd.

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė.  “Someone just tried to assassinate you!”

“Do you have any enemies that would want you dead?” asked Dril.

“Now I wouldn’t be a very good seafarin' hearty if I didn’t be havin' any enemies who wanted me dead,” said Baldric with a sneer.  “Besides, 't’s nay like I haven’t been stabbed in th' aft before. Thank ye fer savin' an old salt.”  He winked at Ilmarė.  “I always spake ye be me lucky charm.”

Baldric harangued the crowd into coming back.  “Thar be ten kegs o' grog headin' this way, if only ye`ll stay!” 

With that, everyone calmed down and returned.  

“Stand by me an' we’ll be havin' a fine tide yet,” Baldric said to Dril.  Then he turned back to the crowd. “Francisco be nay th' only cap’n wi' a knife in his aft,” joked Baldric. “Now, while we wait fer th' grog, let Swagfest commence!”

Ilmarė shook her head in disbelief.  “Stupid humans.”


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 2: Fun for Everyone*

“As ye all know, th' Great Raid did Freeport proud,” said Baldric. “An' nay shipmate did more than One-eyed Jack. Lashed t' th' mast o' Cap’n Drac’s flagship durin' a storm, he fought off o'er a dozen fishmen o' th' deep wi' only a belayin' pin. Truly a salt t' be reckoned wi'. Now, be ye ready fer One-eyed Jack’s Stand?”

The crowd once again roared its approval.  Captain Baldric made his way to the scene of the first event and he motioned to Vlad to follow him. A short distance away was a circle of packed earth with a large stone obelisk at its center.  A rope dangled from the top of the obelisk.

“An' me good matey Vlad will go first. Let’s give th' lad a hand!”

Vlad blinked and looked around in surprise. “Wait…what?”

“Th' rules o' th' game be simple,” Baldric continued. “Contestants take th' role o' One-eyed Jack. Ye be tethered t' th' pole wi' th' rope an' get a club. A dozen jacks play th' fishmen an' they be armed wi' harpoons. Th' fishmen attack One-eyed Jack until they be all defeated or Jack be unconscious.”

“Real harpoons?” asked Dril, watching the crowd.

Ilmarė shook her heard.  “The club’s padded.  The harpoons are just padded staves.” She rubbed her forehead.  “Osalian help us, I didn’t think it was possible, but Swagfest is even more ridiculous than the Saturnalia in Sweet Savona.”

“Th' contestant that defeats th' most fishmen wins,” shouted Baldric to the crowd. “Anyone that defeats all twelve fishmen wins automatically. Anyone that takes off th' tether automatically loses. Be ye ready Vlad?”

Vlad was still in his full plate armor, the armor that had once belonged to a Nierite.  It was painted over black, but the red shown through in places where a blow had connected.  The overall effect was that Vlad’s armor appeared to suffer from a series of jagged wounds.

Vlad dutifully tied the tether about his ankle. After hoisting a padded club and his wooden shield, he nodded at Baldric.  “I’m ready.”

“Begin!” shouted Baldric.

They all came at him at once.  Vlad whirled and cleared a path as several staves crashed down from above, from below, from all sides.  

WHAM! He connected with an upward swing.  Teeth and spittle shot into the air and a sailor was out cold.

The crowd cheered.  “That’s one!” shouted Baldric.

Vlad shoved one of the sailors off of him with his shield, but another immediately filled the hole.  The big Milandisian lurched forward and struck another sailor along the side of his head.  The man stumbled backwards into the dirt.

“That’s two!” shouted Baldric.  The crowd hooted in response.

Vlad’s assailants stepped up their attacks.  Blow after blow landed against his helmet, on his arms, on his back. Someone was even trying to stub his toe.  He grit his teeth and tried to focus—the hammering he was taking made a terrific din on his helmet.  It was all he could do to lift his arm up to swing.

Think!  He had to fight smarter, there was no way he could win through brute force alone.

Vlad lowered his a bit to give a sailor to his left an opening.  The man couldn’t resist and lunged into the space with his stave. Capturing the staff with his arm, Vlad pulled it down and then slammed upwards with his shield.  It connected with a CRACK into the man’s jaw.

Somewhere amidst all the shouting came, “Three!” Betting abounded as men, women, and children waged for or against Vlad.

Vlad thrust his leg in between the legs of another sailor and twisted.  The man stumbled.  Vlad smacked him with the club and he went down.

“Four!”

Vlad’s back was to the pylon, but it didn’t provide much protection.  A staff slammed him from over his shoulder.  He resisted the urge to turn and face his assailant.  It was a lucky shot.

Suddenly, there was a great weight on his shield.  The men were dragging it away from him!  Vlad snarled and dug his heels in for a moment as two of the sailors put their backs into it.

Then Vlad let it go. The sailors tripped over themselves, giving him an opening.  He kicked one in the side.  The man was dragged out of the fracas.

“Five!”

Vlad pressed the advantage on his fallen assailants and struck down hard.  He connected with something soft and was rewarded with an “oof!”

“Six!” 

Sweat poured out of Vlad’s armor as he swung clumsily around him.  The normally pleasant climate had become stifling hot in a relentless combat with no opportunity for rest or retreat.  He took a clumsy step backwards, only to realize his gambit had left his back unprotected by the pylon.

Then something cracked against the side of his helmet, and Vlad didn’t worry much about pylons, sailors, or One-Eyed Jack.

As he slid into unconsciousness, Vlad wondered what he might have earned if he won the contest.


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 3a: Chasing the Rat*

The ale carts had finally arrived and the crowd’s mood only got jollier as alcohol flowed.  Out in the harbor, several ships performed reenactments of famous engagements of the Great Raid. Throughout the day, inns and taverns did a brisk business with those more interested in hard drinking than fun and games. 

Vlad nursed a drink at the Pale Plate, along with his aching head.  “Did I win?” 

“No,” said Ilmarė.  “Somebody beat your score by one. That’s the most ridiculous contest I’ve ever seen. And for what? You can barely walk.” 

“I’ll be fine,” said Vlad. “I just need a few more drinks.”

“I’ve asked around,” said Dril.  “It appears Egil and Lucius were last seen together with a dwarf, heading towards Scurvytown.”

“What in the world would those two idiots be doing in Scurvytown?” asked Ilmarė.  “They can barely survive outside of their homes, much less the roughest part of Freeport.”

“Speaking of ridiculous contests,” said Dril, “it looks as if another one is about to begin.”

“Count me out of it,” said Ilmarė.  

Dril shrugged and stepped out of the Pale Plate to watch Captain Baldric mount the stage again.  Vlad didn’t even bother to get up.

The crowd cheered for the old captain. Baldric hoisted a tankard and toasted the rowdy citizens of Freeport. The crowd responded with many shouts of “long live the Cap’n!” 

He smiled, exposing his terrible teeth, and cleared his throat. “Alright, lads an' lassies, time fer some more fun. Ye all know that Captains Drac an' Francisco chased th' fat rats up an' down th' sea lanes. Well, now 't’s yer turn!” 

Baldric pointed at a man-sized keg that three sailors slowly rolled up to the stage.  He undid several latches and with a creak, the front of the keg fell open.

In the darkness, two beady red eyes glared out at the crowd.

Ilmarė joined Dril to stare into the keg.  “Oh no, he didn’t,” she said.  “He’s not going to let that thing loose, is he?”

“Th' first salt t' brin' me back th' fat rat gets th' booty,” shouted Baldric. “An’ remember, he’s worth more alive than dead!”

With that, the huge rat launched itself into the midst of the crowd, nearly flattening a particularly ugly woman.  

Ilmarė pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Of course he is.” When she looked up, Dril was gone. 

“Dril went after the rat,” said Vlad, nodding off in the direction of overturned carts, screaming children, and a trail of chaos. “If anyone can catch that thing, he can.”

“But why would anyone want to?  That crazy captain just released a monster into the streets.”

“Well let’s hope he catches it soon,” said Vlad. “Because it’s heading towards Scurvytown.”


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 3b: Chasing the Rat*

Dril was hot on the rat’s trail, but it wasn’t very hard to track.  The thing left a wake of terror and more than a few gnawed limbs of those too slow to get out of its way.  Dril kept pace easily with the crowd, pulling ahead even as other sailors behind him cursed and laughed.  Most of them were drunk.

Then he saw the girl.

Her parents had carefully hoisted her up on a crate, out of the path of the rat and the men.  But what they didn’t count on was the rat’s mad dash, its tail thrashing behind it.  The long pink tail snapped like a whip and toppled the crate, leaving the girl in shock in the mud.

Right in the path of the crowd.

Dril knew there was no way he could stop them in time.  He lowered his arms as he ran and scooped her up.

“Eek!” she squealed.  She wasn’t as light as Dril had hoped.  “Let go of me!”

Dril had to slow his pace even as some of the sailors jogged ahead of him.  He placed her on a nearby wagon.  “You’re welcome,” he said.  The girl stuck her tongue out at him.

The Altherian ignored her and resumed his jog.  A moment later, he had passed the sailors who ran ahead of him. They had all stopped in their tracks and were staring ahead.

Dril ran past them, but his moment of triumph was short lived.  He stopped running and turned to face his rivals.  “What’s wrong?” 

“That’s Scurvytown,” said one of the sailors.  He spat.  “I wouldn’t be caught dead there, but you will be if you keep chasing that rat.”

Dril shrugged.  “I can take care of myself.”

“But just in case,” said Vlad, hobbling up from behind the throng of men.  “We’re going with you.”

“We?” asked Dril.

Vlad tugged Ilmarė behind him.  “Yes,” he said. “We.”


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 4a: A Bigger Problem*

“The rat went in there,” said Dril. He pointed at a basement window in a dilapidated building.  The window had once been boarded up, but something large had gnawed its way through.  

Ilmarė cocked her head.  “Something’s in there.”

“Squeaking?” asked Vlad hopefully.

“No,” said Ilmarė.  “Clicking.”

“I found a door,” said Dril.  “But it’s boarded up.”

“Vlad,” said Ilmarė, pointing at the boarded up door.  “Mind knocking?”

Vlad grinned and slammed his bulk into the door, shield first.  It splintered apart.

He rubbed his shoulder afterwards.  “Ouch,” he said. 

They climbed down steps into the basement.  Vlad went first.

He stopped abruptly at the opening.  “Well, the good news is we’ve found the rat,” said Vlad.

They found the rat all right, but he was in no condition to fight back.  The room was filled with arcing webs, and the rat was firmly caught amongst them. His jaws worked futilely as he tried to gnaw his way free. Around the room were several large cocoons, some as large men.

 “What’s the bad news?” asked Dril.

Deep in the shadows a pair of red eyes glowed. An arachnid form was just visible in the webs. As mandibles clicked, a raspy voice emerged from the abomination. 

“If you leave now, I’ll let you live,” it whispered.

Dril drew his flintlock rifle. “Never mind.”


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 4b: A Bigger Problem*

Dril handed Vlad a lit torch.  Firing at the spider was nearly impossible, given the tough webbing that blocked their path.  Dril’s flintlock make a lot of noise but had little effect.

“It’s like the Isle of Tears all over again,” said Vlad, igniting some of the webbing.  It hissed and crackled.  “I’ll just clear out these webs, then we can get the rat and get out—“

A white beam of light struck Vlad’s torch.  His hand, along with the torch, was instantly encased in ice.  They were plunged into darkness, with only a thin shaft of light from the basement window to guide them.

“Oh,” said Vlad.

“You burned enough of a path,” said Dril.  He stepped around Vlad into a space not completely covered by webbing…

Only to be completely covered by a strand of webbing.  The cottony stuff so ensnared him that he fell to the ground.

Vlad stepped behind him, only to find himself ensnared as well by the spider’s webbing.

Ilmarė drew her bow.  She fired, but the arrow was caught in more webbing. “A talking spider?” she asked to no one in particular. She decided it was an aranea.

Vlad burst out of the webbing with a roar.  “Look, we just want the rat!” he shouted.  He began hacking at the other strands that were anchored to pillars, walls, and floor.

Dril slashed his way out of the cocoon with scimitar and dagger.  The white webbing sloughed off of him as he stalked forward.  He looked like an enraged corpse, shedding its burial shroud as it clawed from the grave.

The aranea whispered something and two bolts of energy spiraled into Dril.  

“That’s not going to work, beast,” Dril said with a sneer.  “Just give us the rat and we’ll leave you be.”

Ilmarė peeled back the webbing on one of the cocoons.  

“I’ve found Lucius,” she said.  “He’s alive.  Barely.  I’m guessing that other cocoon is Egil.”

Vlad lifted his crossbow from his belt.  “That changes everything,” he said.  The crossbow magically loaded itself with a click.

Dril stalked into the funnel hole where the aranea had retreated.  There was a furious struggle. Then something screeched horribly, an inhuman sound that should never have come from a spider.

The Altherian emerged, ichor dripping from both of his blades.  “It will terrorize Freeport no more,” he said triumphantly.

“That’s great,” said Ilmarė.  “Now how do we get this huge rat back to Baldric?”

“I have an idea,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Part 5: Bedlam Hour*

The aranea had done the hard work for them.  The rat was poisoned, so weak that it could barely move its head.  It was tightly cocooned, so it couldn’t escape.  They wrapped some webbing around the dire rat’s head and Vlad dragged it down the street.

Their human cargo was transported in much the same way.  Egil and Lucius were far too weak to walk, so they were dragged in makeshift stretchers made of webbing.  Ilmarė dragged Egil while Dril dragged Lucius. Slung over Ilmarė’s back was a smaller cocoon of the aranea’s possessions.

Then three men stepped into their path.  Three more blocked the way behind them.

“Give us the rat,” said the scruffy-looking leader, “and we’ll let you live.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Ilmarė.  

“Look,” said Dril.  He lowered Lucius to the ground. “We went through a lot of trouble to get this rat.  We’re not giving it up without a fight.”

The man spat.  “Stupid Altherians.  You think you know everything, don’t you?  Well, this here is Scurvytown, and you’re on our turf.  That rat’s worth a fortune and we plan to collect.”

Dril drew both of his blades with a SHING!  Vlad shrugged and let the rat drop the ground.  It squeaked as it hit the cobblestone.  Ilmarė put her fists on her hips.

The thugs drew their scimitars.  Vlad drew his sword and unbuckled his shield. 

“Let’s make this quick,” said Vlad.  “The alcohol is starting to wear off.”

The two groups eyed each other warily. Then Dril struck like lightning.  Two men fell backwards, bleeding from their thighs.   

Vlad beaned one of the thugs with the flat of his blade.  The thug fell backwards onto his rump.  The other men danced around, looking for an opening.

“You do realize that all you win for capturing the rat is a case of exotic spices?” asked Ilmarė.

The thugs stopped in their tracks.  “What?” said the leader. The other men stumbled to their feet.

“It’s a case of spices,” said Ilmarė. “That’s the prize.  That’s it. Spices.  You don’t think Captain Baldric’s going to give away a king’s ransom during Swagfest, do you?  He’d be broke by the end of the day.  He was a pirate, after all.”

A few mutters of “it’s not worth it” and “ah forget this,” the men scattered.

They all resumed dragging their respective cargo down the street out of Scurvytown. “How did you know that Baldric’s offering spices?” asked Dril.

“I didn’t,” said Ilmarė with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Holiday in the Sun - Conclusion*

They returned to a cheering crowd. 

“I knew you’d win out all along!” said Baldric.  “And here’s yer treasure!” 

Two men dragged a heavy chest of exotic spices up to the stage. Vlad accepted it graciously.

“You were right,” Dril said to Ilmarė, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“I’ve studied human history,” said Ilmarė. “The majority of Captain Drac’s booty was exotic spices.  He raided trading ships, and very few ships carry bars of gold. So it stands to reason that the treasure was a case of spices.”

“I suppose so,” said Dril.  “And what of Lucius and Egil?”

“They’re back at the Temple,” said Ilmarė.  “I’ve told them not to trust any more dwarves promising them information about Lucius’ nightmares.”

“Strange,” said Dril.  “I didn’t find a dwarf’s body anywhere in the spider’s lair.”

”You wouldn’t,” said Ilmarė.  “That was an aranea, a shapeshifter.  It used its dwarf form to lure the two idiots to the basement.  The equipment we found was all dwarf-sized.”

“Oh?” asked Dril.  “What kind of equipment?”

“A sword, a pair of boots, and leather armor.  It’s all dyed purple, with a yellow sign burned onto it.  It’s the same sign that was on the temple wall.” She showed him the scabbard.  The wavy triskelion was emblazoned in yellow on the purple leather, leather that came from no natural beast.

Dril was silent. Behind him, the crowd was cheering and carrying Vlad, no longer in his armor, aloft. Vlad’s defeat made him more popular than if he had actually won the One-Eyed Jack contest.

“Dril?” asked Ilmarė, concern in her voice.

“I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection before,” said Dril.  “The aranea whispered something which might have been addressed to me…or maybe it was just muttering to itself.”

“Whispered what?” 

Dril didn’t respond.

“Dril?” asked Ilmarė, losing patience.  “What did it say?”

When Dril finally responded, his gaze was unfocused, his features cold.  “It said:

“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”
“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”
“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 15: The Senator’s Seal - Introduction*

This adventure is soft point 2 in Year 2 of the tournament module, "The Senator’s Seal," written by Michael S. Webster and Team Paradigm, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Vlad Martell (human ftr4) played by Matt Hammer
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf brd4/ftr1) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Naruis Drilian (human rog1/rgr2) played by Mike Best

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session.  

I knew the short adventure wouldn’t be enough to fill out the evening, so I decided to use The Senator’s Seal.  This is a tough adventure for our group…lots of problem solving, not nearly as much combat.  It worked nicely as a bookend to Holiday in the Sun though, which was all action, no problem solving.

This adventure is actually all just a set up for another adventure, so I didn’t mind it.  Unfortunately, this is another adventure that goes horribly awry…our heroes don’t do so well this time around. It’s my fault too—I played at a higher Average Party Level (APL 6) when the party was actually APL 4. Even then, Jaleon was down to 10 hit points in the last fight before he got away.

The players are about to read what happened when they were helpless and unconscious.  Lesson learned: Grand Coryan may look prettier than Freeport, but that doesn’t make it a nicer place.

P.S. Vlad recently learned the Blind Fight feat.  See if you can tell.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Prologue*

“Well, at least it’s better than Freeport.” Vlad stood at the prow of the Shrike, staring out at Grand Coryan.  After the assassination attempt, Captain Baldric was eager to leave town for a while.  He took them up immediately on an offer to visit Grand Coryan.  

“Senator Okpara’s note said a ‘mutual associate’ recommended us to him,” said Dril. “I wonder who.”

“Quintus, of course,” said Ilmarė.  There was a hint of admiration in her voice. “Being a legionnaire has its advantages.”

The capital city was a bustling hive of activity as half of the population tried to sell something to the other half.  

“I’ve never met this Quintus,” said Dril.  “Who is he?”

Ilmarė’s expression flickered with surprise at the inquiry.  Her icy exterior quickly returned.  “An acquaintance,” she said coolly. “Quintus Aurelius Ignatius served under Senator Tensen-Balin.  He also led an attack on Ymandragore.”

Dril looked at the Elorii sideways.  “Quintus sounds like a good man to have around in a pinch.”

Vlad chimed in.  “He is.  I’ve fought at his side before.”

Correctly interpreting Ilmarė’s demeanor, Dril avoided the subject after they disembarked.  “I’ve done some research on Okpara.  He is a senator of the Toranesta province and not particularly well-liked.”

“What senator is?” asked Ilmarė.

Dril had never been to Grand Coryan before but was curious about it.  Altherians looked upon Coryan with a mixture of admiration and disdain.  Their efficiency and organization was undeniable, but all of it was bent towards war--a waste of Altheres’ gifts.

After a few discreet inquiries to locate the Senator’s villa, they arrived at Okpara’s home.  His aide showed them into a chamber adorned with many plush and ornate cushions.  

“Please, make yourself at ease,” said the aide.  

“I hope this pays well,” said Vlad to Dril.  “We went through a lot of trouble in Freeport without much to show for it.”  Vlad’s bruises from the beating he suffered at the hands of the sailors in One-Eyed Jack’s Stand were only starting to fade.

“Speak for yourself,” said Ilmarė.  She wore converted purple leather armor emblazoned with a yellow sign on the center. 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to wear that armor in public?” asked Vlad.  “Isn’t that the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?”

“This, from the Milandisian who wears painted over Nierite armor?” 

Vlad coughed. “Point taken.” 

Behind them, Dril idly stroked the yellow sign seared into the purple boots he wore.  But he kept it to himself.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 1: Senatorial Meeting*

Moments later, they were escorted into an inner chamber that obviously served as the Senator’s office.  A pair of men resided within; one with the bearing of a professional soldier, the other reclining upon a luxurious divan.

The nobleman was dressed in fine silken clothing, in the style commonly seen in the Toranesian province of the Empire.  There was a clear air of confidence and authority about him.

With a curt nod from his employer, the soldier closed the door. “I am Jaleon, the Senator’s personal bodyguard and this is Senator Okpara val’Inares.”

“So we gathered,” said Ilmarė. 

“The Senator has lost something of importance—“

“What my man means to say,” interrupted Okpara, his rich voice filling the room, “is that something very vital to me and the Senate has been stolen.”

Jaleon poorly masked his annoyance at being interrupted, but continued nonetheless.  “The Senator would like you to recover his Seal of Office.  In the wrong hands, it could cause considerable trouble.”

“Trouble? Trouble indeed!” shouted the Senator.  “It would be disastrous in the wrong hands! Not only to my political well-being, but to the Empire itself!”

Jaleon cleared his throat.  “The SEAL,” he continued, glaring at his superior, “is a golden cylinder about six inches long.  On one end is the sigil of the Senator’s area of responsibility in Toranesta; on the other is a star sapphire. The Seal is not just valuable monetarily, but more so for its political significance.  Even the knowledge that it is lost would be quite damaging to His Excellency.”

The Senator crossed his arm and sneered down at them.  “Quintus says that your discretion can be relied upon.  Will you aid me in its recovery?”

“Do you have any idea who might want to steal it?” asked Dril.

“Anyone who would want it for the gold or the sapphire,” said Okpara. “Just the jewel alone is worth thousands of Imperials!”

“Anyone else besides a common thief?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Its true worth lies in its political power,” said Jaleon. “Anyone could use it write permits or other documents permitting the movement of any number of things: slaves, taxes, or even armies within Toranesta.  By the time the documents are verified as forgeries, the damage to the Senator’s career would be irreparable.”

“Who would most benefit from your humiliation?” asked Dril in even tones. 

“A Senator has many enemies by virtue of his position,” said Jaleon. His expression was carefully neutral.

“How much?” asked Vlad. 

“500 Imperials each,” said Jaleon.  

“But you must retrieve the Seal and vow to keep this matter quiet,” said Okpara.

Dril opened his mouth but was cut off by Vlad.  “We’re in.”

“Good,” said Jaleon.  “The Senator was at the bazaar looking at a rug merchant’s wares—“

“When I was accosted by a farmer,” snarled Okpara. “He was a freeman and well-dressed, if unfashionable, fellow. He also smelled.”  The senator rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.  “He smelled like an animal.  Cattle, perhaps.”

“When the Senator checked his pouch afterwards, he discovered it had been lifted,” said Jaleon.

“He was the only person to touch me,” said Okpara.

“Names?” asked Dril.

“I don’t know the name of the farmer,” said Okpara.  “But the merchant is named Aljandros.  A strange fellow, he’s very fond of rugs.”

Ilmarė started.  “No, it can’t be.”

“What?” asked Dril. 

“Let’s just say Kham may be a customer of this merchant,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 2: The Fabric Merchant*

As they made their way through the marketplace the next morning, they found the fabric merchant assisting a middle-aged woman looking at some cotton cloth. 

Taking the bolt of cloth over to a table, Aljandros noticed Dril.  He nodded, acknowledging his presence.  

Then he measured several yards of cloth and handed it to the slave-woman.  She passed him a few coins in return. He put the bolt back in its proper place before approaching.  

"You are looking for a rug, yes?" Aljandros said, sidling up to Dril.  "I give you good rug.  My rugs are very nice."

Dril frowned at Aljandros, who looked a bit like an overeager puppy.  "I am not interested in rugs, merchant. I’m looking for a seal."

“Seal?  I do not know of such things.” Undeterred, the merchant tried Ilmarė next.  "A rug for the pretty lady?"

The Elorii stared the merchant down.  "What would I do with a rug?" she said after he backed away.

"What a question!  A rug will keep you warm.  It will keep you soft.  I give you good rug."

“Has anyone been by who smells like cattle?” asked Vlad.

“I am not sure,” said Aljandros.  The merchant rolled out a variety of furry-looking rugs.  "Touch, see?  Feel the softness."

Dril sighed.  “Fine.  I will buy a rug, merchant, and I expect it delivered quickly.”

"Oh yes, yes!" Aljandros said excitedly. "I give you great rug.  It keep you warm at night!" He began rifling through a pile of furs and cloth.  

"Stop encouraging him," said Ilmarė.  "You'll have us all buying rugs by the time he's done."

“So about that person who smelled like cattle…”	

“Oh yes, yes!” said Aljandros, stroking his beard.  “There was a man, a landowner.  He lives outside city.  Purchased some silk for his wife.”

“Do you know him?” asked Vlad.

Aljandros shook his head.  “I have never seen him before in my life.  Why are you seeking him?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Dril.  “Don’t forget to deliver that rug to this address.” He slipped the fabric merchant a piece of parchment along with some Imperials.

They turned and walked away, unaware of the worry that flashed across the normally jovial merchant’s face.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 3: The Stockyards*

A city as grand as Coryan required an impressive amount of meat to feed it.  As a result, the stockyards were enormous.
They smelled the stockyards long before they saw them.  The stench of offal assailed their nostrils.  

Vlad sniffed the air. “Reminds me of home,” he said.

“Remind me to never visit Milandir,” said Ilmarė with a scowl. 

The bleats and cries of animals awaiting slaughter greeted their arrival.  Dril sent a slave to fetch the “wealthy farmer.”  A man named Dardanus stepped warily up to them.

“Can I help you?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

“Yes,” said Dril. “We come on behalf of a Senator. Do you mind if we speak in private?  It’s an urgent matter.”

“Of course, of course,” said Dardanus, his brow furrowing with concern.  

The farmer led them to a house that was affordable only by a successful businessman.  They sat down in the dining room.

“We are investigating the theft of a particular item, and we’re concerned you may have come into possession of it,” said Dril.  “You might have purchased it recently, from a merchant named Aljandros.”

The farmer, an older man with, leaned back in his chair in surprise.  Then he looked at the open doorway over his shoulder.  “My wife will be sick with worry. Oh, this will ruin everything.”

“Maybe if you tell us what you purchased, we can get to the bottom of this,” said Ilmarė impatiently.

“Yes, I was at Aljandros’ stall this morning,” said Dardanus.  “My daughter is to be married and my wife wanted silk from which to make her wedding dress.”

Vlad and Dril exchanged glances.  “Did you remember anything else of note?” Dril asked.

“I do recall a rather rude man of some means.  I inadvertently bumped into him.  I apologized of course.”

“Of course,” said Dril.  “Go on.”

“That’s it,” said Dardanus.  “Should I tell my wife to stop work on the dress?”

“No, that’s fine,” said Dril. “I think you’re cleared of any wrongdoing.  Thank you for your time.”  He got up to leave. 

“Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding,” Vlad said, shaking Dardanus’ hand.

Ilmarė looked down as she stepped into the foyer. She was standing on a brightly hued rug.  “You have many rugs, one in every room.  Do you visit Aljandros’ shop often?”

“I do,” said Dardanus with an embarrassed grin.  “Although I buy fabric for my wife from time to time, I have a fondness for Alijandro’s rugs.  He’s certainly passionate about them.”

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed.  “He certainly is.”

They stepped out of Dardanus house.

“Finally,” said Vlad, punching a fist into one palm, “now I get to do some ‘investigating’.”


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 4: The Pawnbroker*

Aljandros dangled from the delicate fabric of his carefully woven vest.  Vlad held him off the ground with one hand.

“You lied,” said Ilmarė. “Dardanus has patronized your shop before.”

“This is about the small rod of gold!” Aljandros practically shouted.  He was visibly sweating.  “I found it, yes.  In a velvet bag.  But I did not steal!”

“Well, I’m not convinced,” said Vlad, shaking the man a bit.

“I sold it!”

“To whom?” asked Dril.

“Pawnbroker!  I give you directions!”

As it turned out, there were many pawnbrokers within the city, and a few within easy walking distance of the fabric merchant’s shop.  They found the shop where Aljandros said he sold the seal.  It was a rather non-descript structure filled with an array of items, ranging from toys to cookware to weapons.  The proprietress of the place was a lithe middle-aged woman with a patch over one eye.

“Did you buy something from a fabric merchant named Aljandros?” asked Dril menacingly.

“Don’t know,” said the women, glaring back.  “My memory’s foggy.  But I have a fine array of items here you might be interested in purchasing if you’re so inclined.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Stupid hu—“

“I’ll take that dagger,” said Vlad, pointing at a blade ensconced in a gilded sheathe.  

“That’s better,” said the woman.  Her grimace turned into a welcoming smile.  “Name’s Melosia.”  She wrapped up the dagger in cloth.  “I do remember your friend.  He had a small golden rod.  Don’t they all?” she said, snickering in Ilmarė’s direction.

Ilmarė didn’t laugh.

“Anyway, I didn’t buy it from him.  Something like that is too rich for my blood.  I suggested he get it melted down for the gold. I told him to visit Iphicles the Fat; he’s nearby and reasonably honest.”

“You better not be lying,” said Dril.  “Finding this…item…is trying my patience.”

Melosia sneered back at him.  “Altharian rabble, always making threats they can’t follow up.  Good luck in your search.  You’ll need it with an attitude like that.” 

She turned away from them. Vlad rubbed his forehead as they walked out.  

“If we keep visiting merchants like this, I’m going to go broke.”


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 5: The Gold Merchant*

Gold merchants were much less common than pawnshops.  Iphicles the Fats’ establishment was more akin to a fortress than a workshop.  Its high stone walls had nothing but the smallest of windows, more than fifteen feet high in the air.  Impressive metal doors stood open and a pair of guards of intimidating stature blocked the doorway.  

One of the guards eyed Vlad warily. “Only two at a time,” he said.  “The rest of you will have to wait.”

Ilmarė nodded.  “Vlad, stay here.”

Her directive was met with a shrug.  “I’m sick of talking to merchants anyway.”

Within were two more stout and formidable guards.  Such precautions were understandable, as there was a prince’s ransom in jewelry on display.  Fastidiously arranging an array of fine gold chains was a thin, middle-aged man with short graying hair and a delicate, almost effeminate touch.  Despite his name, he wasn’t fat at all.

“Welcome!” said Iphicles.  “Such worthies as yourselves are certain to find items to your liking in my humble shop.”

Even to the untrained eye, the level of craftsmanship was quite extraordinary.  The light filtering in from the small windows reflected off of the mirrors of polished gold to bathe the room in a warm, argent light.

“Look, merchant,” said Dril.  “It’s been a long day.  Did Aljandros come—“

“You have a lovely neck,” said Iphicles, sidling up to Ilmarė.  “Long, pale.  It looks naked without these amethyst earrings.  They would go perfect with your hair.”

Ilmarė watched the merchant through half-closed lids.  “Fine. I’ll take them.” She counted out Imperials from a pouch at her belt.

“Ah yes,” said Iphicles. He pulled up a stool and led Ilmarė to it. “I remember Aljandros coming in earlier in the day.  He wanted something melted down into ingots.”

“Yes, we know that already,” snapped Dril.  “Did you melt the item?”

“No,” said Iphicles.  He deftly pulled Ilmarė’s silver and purple hair into a bun. “We are too busy on other projects for the Cathedral to take on such work.”

“Why didn’t you just give him ingots you already had?”

Iphicles placed the two earrings on Ilmarė’s ears.  “Magnificent!” he said.  Then he turned to Dril.  “We don’t have the time to refine the gold from the item, and the ingots we have are earmarked for other projects.”

Ilmarė stood up and admired herself in the mirror.  “Not bad,” she said.

“I did recommend another goldsmith farther into town, Fabiro the Slim.” Iphicles smiled congenially and gave them the directions.  “By the way, why do you ask?”

“I’m sure a busy merchant like yourself has no time for a long explanation,” said Dril.  And with that, he abruptly stalked out of the shop.

Vlad was chatting with the guards outside.  He joined them in the street.

“So?”

“Another dead end,” said Dril.  “We’re being led in circles.”

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

“Now we find Fabiro the Slim,” said Dril.

“Why do I get the feeling,” said Ilmarė.  “That Fabiro’s not very slim either?”


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 6a: There is No Honor Among Thieves*

Their path to Fabiro the Slim took them down an alleyway.  It stank and had mysterious brown stains in the street.

“This seems a strange place to place a gold merchant’s shop,” said Ilmarė.  

Several large men stepped out into the alleyway.  “We hear you’ve been looking for us.  What do you want?”

Vlad’s reached for the hilt of his sword, but Dril stayed his hand. 

“The Cafelan Cartel,” said the Altherian.  “Took you long enough.  I assume your boss has what we’re looking for?”

One of the thugs shook his head.  “We’re not here to answer questions.  If you want questions answered, you’ll have to speak to the boss.”

“Right.  Raven.”

“Who?” asked Vlad.

“Raven,” said Dril matter-of-factly. “The quarter’s Savonan boss for this area.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Ilmarė.

“I have my ways,” said Dril.  He turned back to the men.  “Well?”

“Fine,” said another of the thugs. “But you will have to be blindfolded.”

“Now wait just a minute—“ protested Ilmarė.

“You’ll have to trust me,” said Dril. “This is the only way.”

“Don’t worry,” said Vlad.  “I’m a trained night fighter.”

Ilmarė took a deep breath.  “Fine.  But if I feel one hand touch anywhere but my blindfold, that man will no longer be able to clap.  Do I make myself clear?”

The Cafelan thugs chuckled.  “We’ll be nice as long as you’re nice,” they said.

“Then we’re screwed,” said Vlad.  Ilmarė was blindfolded before she could glare at him.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 6b: There is No Honor Among Thieves*

They moved down a flight of steps for what must have been the hundredth time, but this time the temperature continued to fall.  Footsteps echoed off of close walls. Voices in the distance rose in volume, then suddenly stopped just as they became comprehensible.  As they were finally brought to a halt, snickers echoed around them. Their blindfolds were removed.

They had been brought before a large wooden chair, carved in great, curving scrolls.  Sitting atop the chair was a dark-skinned woman.  Raven’s steel-gray eyes critically evaluated Dril.  

“This him?” she asked in a smooth voice.

A young boy nodded his head. “Yah, these ‘em are the one’s I o’erheard askin’ for us.”

“Way to keep the mission secret,” Ilmarė said to Dril.

“So now that you are here, what do you want?” asked Raven. 

“Stop playing us for fools,” said Dril.  “You know what we want.”

“The seal,” said Raven with a slight smile.  “Yes, I am aware of it. Two of my employees…acquired it from that idiot merchant.  He should never have had it in the first place.”

“So you stole it from him?” asked Vlad.

Raven continued.  “Unfortunately, they were attacked while bringing it to me—so that I could return it to its proper owner, of course.”

“Of course,” said Dril.

“The attackers were quite efficient,” said Raven.  “In the process, one of my friends was slain and the other seriously wounded.  They made just one mistake.”

She tossed a scrap of torn cloth on the ground.  The weave was very fine.  Part of a family crest was visible on it.

“That’s the sign of the personal guard of Senator Janthi val’Sheem,” said Ilmarė.

“Very perceptive,” said Raven.  “As much as I would like to, I cannot exact revenge for this affront.  At least, not in a manner that we would most desire.” Anger tinged her voice.  “However, revenge is more than a dagger slipped between the ribs.”

Dril nodded.  “What would you have us do?”

“I will help you foil this Janthi val’Sheem’s plans.  Recover the seal and return it to the rightful owner.  Just the public attention of his involvement in stealing the seal will hurt him politically.  Avoid permitting harm to come to him; attacking a Senator is a capital offense in Coryan, regardless of crimes he may have committed.”

Raven sat back into her chair, signaling with but a nod to the thugs that brought them there.  

“Not the blindfolds again,” said Ilmarė with a resigned sigh.

“Did I mention I’m a trained night—” asked Vlad as the blindfold was applied.

“Yes!” said Ilmarė and Dril.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 6c: There is No Honor Among Thieves*

They were led around for what seemed like hours.  Suddenly, they stopped.  They could hear the sounds of a conversation. 

In muffled tones, a powerful voice said, “with only a few orders to key people, Okpara’s career in the Senate will be over.  You will be handsomely compensated for your efforts, to be sure.”

Then they were shoved out of the alley.  Ilmarė tore the blindfold from her face.

They were just outside an ornate door. Dril took his own blindfold off and looked up at the crest on the door.

“Senator Janthi val’Sheem’s office,” said Dril.  

“You know, if I were attacked right now I could totally fight like this,” said Vlad.

“Take off the blindfold, Vlad,” said Ilmarė.  “We know all about your night fighting skills.”

Just then the door opened.  An aide poked his head out.  “Can I help you?”

“No,” said Dril. “Just getting our bearings.”

The door slammed shut.  

“We’re going to have to find another way in,” said Dril.  “We heard that conversation from the alley, so there must be a window…”

There were windows in the alley, but they turned out to be narrow slits.  The otherwise featureless alley had no obvious exits.

“Well,” said Dril, “I’m out of ideas.  We can’t very well force our way in there.”

Ilmarė was staring over Vlad’s shoulder.  

“What?” he asked.

“There’s the outline of a door in the wall behind you,” she said.

“Where?” asked Vlad.  He felt around the wall with his fingers.  “I don’t feel anything.”

“Right here,” said Ilmarė.  She pushed on something that clicked.

With barely a sound, the wall spun and swallowed up the Elorii.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 7a: Battle for the Seal*

Senator Janthi’s back was to Ilmarė.  He was a short, round man, seated comfortably at an ornate table.  Across from him was none other than Okpara val’Inares’ personal bodyguard, Jaleon.  The object of their search rested on the table between them: Okpara’s imperial seal.

Janthi saw Jaleon’s eyes widen at the Elorii’s entrance.  He stood abruptly and pointed at Jaleon.  “You are a traitor to the Empire!  This is a betrayal on every level!” He spun to face Ilmarė.  “You must help me!  I order the arrest of these men in the name of the Empire!”  

Suddenly, Ilmarė realized that there were several armed men in the room.

“By Neroth’s breath, I’ll have your heart!” shouted Jaleon.  He leaped across the table to attack Janthi.  

Ilmarė dove to the ground and rolled in an attempt to grab the seal, but her timing was off.  She ended up accidentally kicking the table over, separating the Senator from the traitor.  For a brief moment, she was glad her two companions didn’t see her embarrassing blunder.

Then she desperately wished they were there as Jaleon’s blade nearly sliced her in two.  

The aide ran screaming out of the room as Vlad swung through the secret door.  He immediately engaged Jaleon, who battered him back with his gladius.

Dril entered next, only to duck as an arrow shivered in the wall where his head had been.

“There’s too many!” shouted Ilmarė, huddled behind the table with the Senator.  

“I’ll fix that,” said Dril.  He drew his scimitar and dagger and, with a shout, leaped over the table.

Ilmarė drew her bow and fired at the archer across the room.  He was better armored than she. 

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” said Ilmarė to the traitorous bodyguard.  

“You have no proof,” said Janthi with a sneer.  “Besides, it’s my word against yours.”

Vlad blocked Jaleon’s blade with his shield, but he was hard pressed to keep up with him.  Jaleon was an experienced warrior.

“Go back to your canton, Milandisian,” said Jaleon through gritted teeth.  “You’re no match for a Coryan legionnaire.”

There was a wail as Dril spun and skewered one of Jaleon’s henchmen with both of his blades. The man fell backwards even as another stepped forward.

“You’re a dead man,” said Vlad. “Even if you beat us, you’ll never make it out of the city alive.”

Jaleon easily parried Vlad’s blade with his gladius. “Don’t be so sure,” he said.  “A senator’s seal can cover many sins.  Senators are the real power here—although they’re all snakes anyway.” He shouted over Vlad’s shoulder. “I’m coming for you next, Janthi!  Do you hear me?”

An arrow whistled towards Vlad, but it stopped dead in tracks a few inches from his shield and fell to the ground.  

“Need reinforcements,” said Ilmarė.  She called to Osalian for help…

His answer came in a glowing canine that flashed into the room.  It immediately charged Jaleon.

An arrow pierced Dril’s shoulder and he spun to the ground.

Jaleon turned his shield to fend off the canine, giving Vlad enough time to back out of the bodyguard’s reach.

Ilmarė rose again to fire at the archer but a teeth-rattling blow knocked the wind out of her.  She caught an image of one of the henchman raising his bloodied mace—her blood—over his head.  Then everything went dim.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 7b: Battle for the Seal*

The big man finally went down like the stupid bull that he was.  Collectively, the elf, the Altherian, and the Milandisian had taken out two of Jaleon’s best men.  Only his archer survived.

“Now,” said Jaleon, stalking towards the senator, “we have unfinished business.”

Janthi backpedaled across the floor.  “I was only trying to throw them off the track—“

“Sarish’s ass!” cursed Jaleon.  “You we’re trying to sell me out! And you have the gall to call me a traitor? I’ll show you what Coryan does to traitors!”

“Perhaps another time,” said Janthi as he reached for a slight depression in the wall.

“Shoot him!” shouted Jaleon to his archer.

The arrow only bounced off of the wall where the Senator had been moments before. He had used the secret door.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Jaleon.  He looked around for the seal.

“The vigiles will be here any moment,” said the archer.

“I know, I’m looking for—ah!” He found it behind the table.  “Let’s go, we can use this to buy us passage out of the city.”

Jaleon and his henchman jogged out of the Senator’s office.

A moment later, the wall swung back again.  Janthi slunk over to Ilmarė’s unconscious form.  Blood trickled from a wound at her temple. 

The Senator put the back of his hand to her mouth. She was still breathing.

He pulled a dagger from its sheath at his belt.  “Too bad they all died trying to defend me,” said Janthi.  “A stab wound in the chest should speed this up.”

Janthi lifted up the dagger…

Only to freeze, horrified by what he saw on Ilmarė’s armor.

“The Yellow Sign!” he whispered to himself.  Janthi’s eyes darted everywhere.  He spotted it again on Dril’s boots.  A check on his pulse indicated that the Altherian was still alive as well.

The Senator beat at his own temples with his fists.  “Think, think!  Can’t kill them, the Brotherhood will retaliate.”  He looked down at Dril’s potion bandolier strapped across his chest.  “Ah yes…one of these.”

The contents of a potion were poured into Dril’s lips until he sputtered awake.  “Quickly!” said Janthi.  “You can still catch him!”

He walked over to tend to Ilmarė.  “I’ll take care of them.  Go!”

Dril shook his head to clear the cobwebs.  He rose unsteadily to his feet.  “What…”

“Go!” shouted Janthi.  Spurred by the Senator’s words, Dril stumbled out of the doorway into the street.  

“And remember who saved you,” Janthi whispered to himself.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Part 7c: Battle for the Seal*

Jaleon jogged down the street when he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him.

He pointed at Dril.  “Stop them!” he snarled.

The archer turned and drew his bow.  

Dril dove to the side and a man pushing a cart was skewered in the throat.  He kept coming.  “I owe you a death!” Dril shouted.

The archer fumbled to draw his blade, but not in time.  Dril speared him with scimitar and dagger beneath his mail coat.   Then he kept on running.

Jaleon looked over his shoulder.  Dril was catching up.  He turned back only to see two horses pulling a cart in front of him.  He dove down into the muck and slid beneath it without missing a step.

Thanks to the power of the aranea’s boots, Dril cleared the wagon with one leap.

There were screams of dismay as Jaleon zigged and zagged down the street.  He elbowed a pile of fruit into Dril’s path, but the Altherian easily cleared them.  Then they passed Aljandros’ stall.

Aljandros was nowhere to be found.  Jaleon grabbed a nearby torch, for night was nearly upon them, and lit the fabric of the merchant’s stall on fire.  Then he kicked it, hard enough to top it over into the street.

Dril hesitated, only to have Ilmarė leap through the flames ahead of them, unharmed.  

“The armor!” she shouted, thumping her torso once.  She tore another piece of fabric from a nearby stall and beat the flames out before they could spread.

Vlad pounded past both of them just as Jaleon skidded to a halt. Vigiles had lined up with firehooks at the other end of the street.  He ducked down an alley…

Only to stop at a dead end.   Jaleon spun on his heel as Vlad advanced. He drew the dagger he purchased from Melosia.  Jaleon was too well armored to fight with swords in such close quarters.

“Come on then!” he spat.  “If I go down, I will take you with me!”

With a roar, the Milandisian barreled down the alleyway towards Jaleon.  The two collided with a horrendous din of metal on metal.  The impact was such that it backed Jaleon up against the crumbling wall. 

“I know a legionnaire,” said Vlad, inches from Jaleon’s face. “And you’re no legionnaire.”

When they separated, Vlad’s dagger was slick with Jaleon’s blood. Jaleon’s pupils dilated as his life slipped away from him.  Blood smeared against the wall behind him. His lips pulled into a rictus grin.

“Death before dishonor,” he whispered.  Then Jaleon’s head slumped forward. His grip finally loosened on the seal.  It rolled, with a hollow clatter, across the pavement until it hit Vlad’s boot. He picked it up before the vigiles arrived.


----------



## Azgulor

Great story hour!  You seem to be blessed with a good group of players and you know how to tell a good story.  You and your fellow DM also seem to handle the absence of some players and the introduction of new players very well.  Any pointers?  Handling those two occurences never go as smoothly for my campaigns as I'd like.

Again, great story hour.  Keep 'em coming please.

Azgulor


----------



## talien

Hi Azgulor,

There are a variety of factors that help make things go smoothly.  I often think of better reasons for why characters aren't there for the story hour (as opposed to just before the game).  Here's a few things that I think contribute to keeping the story moving without getting too tripped up by the character appearances/disappearances:

1) Know who your core players are.  There are three consistent characters: Vlad, Ilmare, and Kham.  Ilmare is played by my wife, so I pretty much know when she'll be around.  Vlad is played by a coworker, so we're in constant contact.  And finally, Kham is played by an old friend who really likes to play D&D and is happy to travel to a game if need be. I focus the plots on these three characters most of the time, thus ensuring that the other characters who come and go aren't missed too much.

2) There are always good excuses for PCs to not adventure. Really, it seems like all heroes do is run around being heroes.  So I use these absences as reminders that life sometimes life isn't all monster-killing and treasure-grabbing.  Sometimes this is just a basic duty, like Quintus having to serve as a legionnaire and Vlad serving Duke Adolphos val'Tensen as a bailiff.  But other times it's tragedy or, my personal favorite, "recovering from really bad wounds".  You'll see this happen a bunch going in the upcoming story hours:
* Catching a disease and falling ill while the PCs try to find the cure.
* Getting "hurt real bad" and spending time recovering in a secret location so that said PC is not assassinated.
* Being kidnapped by a cult (this has happened to two different characters now), sometimes for weeks at a time.
* Imprisoned. *COUGH* Kham! * COUGH*
* Working on the creation of a new magic item.
* Doing research on an esoteric subject.
* Investigating bad guy activity on their own.

3) The adventures are Living Arcanis RPGA adventures.  They're meant to be played in the span of four hours or less and thus go quickly.  This means that PCs are never so committed to an area (like say, a dungeon) that they can't get out of it. We're planning adventures in other dimensions and such that will make PC comings and goings harder.

As for new players, having a well-defined world really helps.  We don't have too many crazy anomalies...there's no minotaur fighters showing up in the world that I have to explain.  Probably the most fantastic/strange is Bijoux, who is literally one of a kind (a flying catfolk race that came from one of the first Living Arcanis adventures) and Calactyte, a big lizardfolk. Both of those characters sometimes have difficulty fitting in, especially the horror-themed adventures; it's hard to be scary when you've got a big scaly superhero beating up bad guys. On the other hand, they are both intricately tied to the world; lizardfolk are considered a menace in most parts of Arcanis and Bijoux is a representative of a world that fought the Unspeakable One and failed.  So even the anomalous characters serve a purpose. 

Of course, we haven't had a new character join since Dril.  Dril fit in easily enough because he was a character that made sense in Arcanis: he's an urban ranger/rogue who serves in the Shining Patrol, hates ss'ressen and lizardfolk, and is from Altheria.  Which means he's got ready made conflict (wait til Dril meets Cal!), an allegiance to a homeland, and plenty of motivation to help people out.  

And of course it helps that I have a great bunch of players who are generally all interested in party unity.  The story hours help reinforce that, elaborating on each character's background and history while at the same time encouraging them to do things that "fit the story."  I should point out that all the players are intensely aware of this story hour and want all the moments to "look good in it."  It's almost like they're on a reality show, so that definitely helps people get along.

Thanks for your comments!  It's good to know someone's reading this story hour.


----------



## talien

*The Senator's Seal - Conclusion*

They returned to Senator Okpara val’Inares’ villa and were led into his personal office.  Upon seeing them enter, he quickly concluded his business and bid his guests farewell.  

“Tell me,” he said anxiously, “how did you fare?”

“We have retrieved the item, as you requested,” said Dril, handing it to Okpara in a wooden box.  “It was no small task.”

Okpara popped the box open.  The tension drained out of his shoulders as he looked upon the seal.  The golden glow of the seal on the Senator’s face cast him as some wicked incarnation of avarice.  

“Well done!” he said.  “Quintus’ faith in you was well-placed!  Who stole it?  Was it the farmer?”

Dril shook his head.  “You did not pay us to discover who the thief was, only to retrieve it.”

“Indeed, I did not,” said Okpara, turning back towards his desk.  

Vlad cleared his throat.  “About that payment.”

“This is one reward I will gladly pay,” said Okpara.  He passed over a few small leather bags, but kept his hand on them.  “Your discretion in this matter must be inviolate.”

“Of course,” said Dril.  He took the bags and tossed two of them to Vlad and Ilmarė.

“One other thing,” said Okpara.  “I would like to send you on a brief vacation.”

Ilmarė paused in counting the Imperials.  “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all,” chuckled Okpara.  “But given the nature of your pursuit, I think it’s best if you leave town for awhile.  I have a friend, Gaius Phillipus, who owns a villa in Vestalanium.”

“Never heard of it,” said Vlad.

Okpara’s stared at him for a moment.  “Of course you wouldn’t.  It’s one of the most exclusive of all Coryani resort towns, nestled along the Corvis River. I’m sure adventurers such as yourselves would enjoy such an opportunity to get away from the bustle of the city.”

Ilmarė stretched, rubbing the back of her neck.  “It would be nice to get away from it all.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Okpara.  “Please gather your things immediately.  The river barge leaves tomorrow.”

As they walked out of Okpara’s office, Dril looked back over his shoulder.  “Why do I get the feeling we never had a choice in the first place?”

“We didn’t exactly succeed in our mission,” said Ilmarė.  “That was a very public chase.  People died.  Goods were destroyed.”

“Speaking of goods,” said Vlad, “Aljandros wasn’t at his stall and hasn’t been back to claim it, or what’s left of it.  It seems he packed up and left town.”

“I’m sure he did,” said Dril.  “Perhaps the vacation isn’t such a bad idea after all.  He may have been just a fabric merchant, but Aljandros knew what he was doing.”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  “He was a liar, and a thief. You sound like you almost admire him.”

“True,” said Dril.  “But even with the Cafelan Cartel, senators, and legionnaires nipping at his heels, he was sure to deliver my rug before he left town.”


----------



## Thanediel

talien said:
			
		

> The adventures are Living Arcanis RPGA adventures.  They're meant to be played in the span of four hours or less and thus go quickly.  This means that PCs are never so committed to an area (like say, a dungeon) that they can't get out of it. We're planning adventures in other dimensions and such that will make PC comings and goings harder.




Call me curious but I've noticed that some of your adventures involve only 3 PC. Aren't RPGA-LA modules for 4 PC minimum?

Or are you running LA modules in a home campaign?


----------



## talien

That's correct, these are all home games.  We often tweak the adventures as well so they are more relevant to the PC situations, so I've changed last names or even swapped out NPCs when it makes sense.  

We've also played a few LA games with too many PCs, which is...interesting. As you saw in Senator's Seal, when you play with too few PCs it can get sticky.  I should have adjusted the APL down but didn't.  On the other hand, the best part of LA games is you can adjust on the fly, so if a party is too powerful or weak, you just go up or down an APL.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 16: Deus Ex Machina - Introduction*

This adventure, "Deus Ex Machina," is a free download from Green Ronin’s Focus on Freeport page, written by Jeff Quick and set in the Freeport setting. You can download it at: http://www.greenronin.com/freeportfocus.shtml. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com 
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net 

This adventure is a lot of fun, but it had several challenges for me as a DM.  For one, the original plot is all over the place.  I won’t go into the details, but it involves a humorous plan by a trickster deity and his minions.  This is all fine and good, but the adventure hook wasn’t strong enough to make anyone want to get involved, so I changed it dramatically.

I changed all the clerics of the trickster god became cultists of the Unspeakable One.  This doesn’t change a whole lot other than to make them bad guys who are out to steal something for a cause, as opposed to kleptomaniacs who think it’s funny. 

For another, I changed the final construct at the end to something tied to the Unspeakable One.  In this case, the adventure involves a short story by John Tynes set in Carcossa, titled “Ambrose.” Check it out at: http://members.fortunecity.com/johnsilence/ambrose.htm. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time to have the players read the short story.  I summarized, but that didn’t really make the connections stand out in the players’ minds, so I really had to make it obvious by the end of the adventure (or face TPK due to my poor explanation).

Finally, the protagonists in this adventure originally had taken over a temple dedicated to the God of Retribution. In the Arcanis setting, I changed this to Illiir.  Two clerics go in to the temple to take care of business, and one of them should sound familiar.  This will explain where that PC was for the past three adventures.

This is also the first time I’ve moved an adventure out of order for purposes of the story.  Technically, we played this the weekend after we played “As Cold and Gray as Stone.” Since “Deus Ex Machina” doesn’t change the campaign drastically except to explain a character’s disappearance, it fits in nicely.  

P.S. The Killing Joke is one of my favorite comics.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Prologue*

Quintus looked up from the ground.  Small people dressed in pallid masks and robes were ripping off his clothes. They were gnomes or dwarves. They poked and kicked at Quintus.

“Up!” they shouted over and over.  “Up!  Up!”

Quintus snarled.  “I’ll kill you!”

He punched one of them in the face.  It fell back, a bright red stain appearing on the pallid mask.  Then one of them touched him with a crackling hand.  Pain jolted throughout his body.  He fell back down to the ground. 

“Finish stripping him!” said one of the gnomes.

The other gnomes pulled all of Quintus’ clothes off.  Something was fastened around his neck. It was a dog collar.  Quintus got a glimpse of the leash before one of them yanked hard.

“Up!”

They led Quintus through the abandoned Illiirite church to the altar.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see rows upon rows of pews, piled up in the moonlight.  

“Where are you taking me?” he snarled.

They stopped pulling him along. 

“Down.”

“What?”

The other gnomes yanked Quintus down by the leash.  “Down!”  He fell to his knees.  

The shock hit him again.  It was a spell.  Quintus knew it was a spell, he’d seen it before.  It convulsed him.  He collapsed to the ground.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” Quintus hissed through clenched teeth.  

“Oh, that would be too simple,” said a sibilant voice. 

Quintus looked up.  It was a bald man with a broad grin. He was sitting on the Illirite altar, using it as a makeshift throne.

“You!” snarled Quintus. “I remember you…”

Quintus had traveled to Freeport with the others but had no intention of staying.  When the Illirite priest, Parsippus, asked for his help, Quintus couldn’t say no.  They were supposed to simply throw out squatters.  

Parsippus shouted and then Quintus saw stars before his eyes…

“Memories?” said the man. “Oh, I would advise against them.  They don’t call it the past ‘tense’ for nothing, you know.” He laughed at his own joke. “Memories are so treacherous.  They remind us, over, and over, and over again, just how insane this world really is! Memories can be vile, repulsive little brutes,” he grinned over at his strangely attired servants. “Like gnomes, I suppose.”  

“What did you do with Parsippus?”

The man rose and started down the steps towards Quintus.  He looked almost concerned.

“Fear not, legionnaire.” He patted Quintus on the head.  “My name is Khorbon and I am here to set you free.  I am your savior, and I have come to you with a new holy word.” He sat down on one of the steps, just above Quintus’ eye level. “Can a man live without remembering?  I say they can!  But ah, you say, memories are the foundation off our reason.  If we can’t face them, we deny reason itself.  That is so very true, an excellent point.  But I say, why not deny reason?  Where has reason gotten us?  You are not contractually bound to reason!”

“You’re insane,” said Quintus. 

“Most definitely,” said Khorbon. “But that changes nothing.  And everything.  When you find yourself heading for those places in your past where the screams are unbearable, there’s always madness!  Madness is your emergency exit.  You can just step outside and close the door on all those dreadful memories.  Lock them up forever, and walk away a new man.  Happy, mad, and free”

“When your gnomes aren’t looking, Khorbon, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands,” said Quintus.

“Kill me? Kill me?”  Khorbon gestured at the gnomes behind Quintus.  “Did you hear that?  He’s going to kill me?  Well, he’s very confused, isn’t he?” He leaned forward to look Quintus in the face. “It’s quite the other way around, I’m afraid.  You see, my memories have a home and the key is Ambrose.  I’m not sure how, but Ambrose got out of Carcosa and he’s working very hard to get back. We’re going to follow him through a portal to a very important party. But you can’t go to a party without bringing a gift, can you?”  He lifted his arms up.  “Of course not!  You, my stalwart friend, are going to be my gift to the King.  A gift of madness! And he will make me Prince of Carcosa, as I am destined to be.”

Khorbon nodded to one of the gnomes, who pulled Quintus’ leash.

“Come.”

Quintus looked back and forth from the gnome to Khorbon.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Go with these gentlemen, my new friend,” said Khorbon. “I have a party to prepare for.”

Then they put the mask over his head.  And the nightmare began.


----------



## talien

*Part 1: Nothing is Sacred*

“Now Cal, do you understand your instructions?” asked Lucius.

The big lizard, topping over six feet, nodded.  

“Repeat it back to me,” said Lucius in the boldest tone he could muster.  “Please.”

“Take this note to Ilmarė,” said Cal, waving a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand, “in the western arm of Drac’s End, near the Merchant and Temple Districts.” 

“And?”

“And no one else is supposed to read it.  Not even me.”

Lucius nodded, satisfied.  “Not even you. I found many disturbing things in the notebooks of Garniss the Sage, but that note is the most disturbing of all.” 

Cal nodded. “What do I tell Ilmarė when I find her?”

“She’ll know what it means,” said Lucius.  “She’s read the story before.”

The ss’ressen turned to leave.

“I would not normally entrust such a mission to you,” said Lucius, “but your particular talents make you the best…man for the job.”

“Because I’m big and strong?” asked Cal.

“Because you can’t read.”


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 2: The Heist*

Cal didn’t have much to fear from Freeport.  In fact, it was one of the few places he felt comfortable.  Although people openly stared, he preferred it to the nervous side glances of more polite cities.  In Freeport, if someone didn’t like you, they let you know it.  If they feared you, they let you know that too.

So it was surprising when a woman approached him.  Few locals dared.  The thugs large enough to threaten him had learned his lesson.  Besides, Cal was perpetually broke anyway.

“Blimey!” she said, looking up at Cal. “Yew 'ook like a big strappin' fellow. Might I be able ter offer my services? Nuff said, yeah?”

Cal’s pupiless eyes blinked.  He sniffed tentatively in the woman’s direction. Her eyes and lips were painted extravagantly.  Her clothes were too tight, especially the top part.

“Orww, right, come on now. I know I don't 'ave a look like much, but I fink I can 'andle the likes of yer. Wotcher say?”

“No thanks,” said Cal.  

The woman awkwardly stroked one of Cal’s scaly forearms.  He pulled away from her.

“Psst!” shouted someone from a nearby alley. He was in front of a two-story rough stone building with a drainpipe up the side. “Over here,” said a voice concealed in shadows. 

Cal was only too happy to put distance between himself and the prostitute. 

“Down here!” shouted a voice somewhere around Cal’s knee.

He looked down.  A confident-looking short little man with shifty eyes was staring up at him. 

“Listen,” said the man.  “My name’s Harcourt. Resseka spends a bit of time 'ere. She lost one of 'er children at sea more than year ago, and 'as no brass. I try ter wotch out for 'er, but sometimes she goes a wee too far wiv 'er propositions.”

“Maybe she should go look for money from someone else,” said Cal.  

“Cal!” shouted a familiar voice.  He could make out the svelte form of Ilmarė the elorii and the squat silhouette of Beldin the dwarf walking down the street towards him. They had hopped a portal to Freeport upon receiving urgent word from Lucius. 

When Cal looked back, Harcourt and Resseka were gone.  “What the…”

“Stop, thief!” shouted someone else, jogging past them.  Chemb was a big man with blonde hair, tan skin, and a perpetually startled expression.  He pointed towards the roof. “He’s getting away!” A female gnome named Claret, who pointed in tandem with the big man, accompanied him.

Cal looked down at his belt, which was basically a rope holding up his loincloth.  The note was gone!

“My note!” he shouted. 

Harcourt clambered up the drainpipe.  Chemb tried to climb after him.

”Cal, what is going on?” asked Ilmarė.  “Whatever Lucius wanted better be good; I interrupted my vacation for this.” Beldin’s axe was out in his hands.  

“I have something for you from Lucius,” said Cal.  “I’ll go get it.”

Then, using one claw after the other, Cal dug himself footholds and began climbing the sheer surface of the stone building.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 3a: The Chase*

The little man ran across the rooftops as fast as his little legs would carry him.  He easily sped across a four-inch wide plank onto a two-story stone building.  

Harcourt spun around to kick the plank. It clattered into the alley below.  

Harcourt flashed a brief smile at the ss’ressen that was pounding after him.  It was a good ten feet distance between the two buildings.

Then the lizard was gone. Harcourt spun around…

Only to nearly smack right into Cal.  “Give me back my note,” said the lizard with a hiss.

Harcourt took a step backwards.  Cal stepped forward. The roof groaned under the three hundred pound lizard man’s weight.  Then it gave way.

Cal collapsed up to his chest.  He was stuck.

The thief laughed and ran right up to Cal.  Then, using the ss’ressen’s head as a stepping-stone, Harcourt launched himself over the broken rooftop.

With his formidable forearm strength alone, Cal lifted himself out of the hole.  He crawled across the rooftop just in time to see Harcourt crossing to the next building on a tightrope. 

Just to show how dexterous he was, the thief walked backwards across the tightrope while facing Cal.  “So long, yer big alligator!” shouted Hargrove. “Right!” 

Then a whistling axe snapped the tightrope in half.

Harcourt shrieked as the tightrope collapsed.  He grabbed on to the edge of the roof, struggling as much as Cal to maintain his balance.  

From the alley, Ilmarė pointed one finger at the note. It was hastily stuffed into Harcourt’s belt pouch, and part of it was still visible.

“I believe that’s mine,” she said. The note floated down out of Harcourt’s pouch towards Ilmarė.  

A roiling mist filled up around the alley. From out of the mist, a tanned arm snatched the note out of the air. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” shouted Chemb.  

“I’m really getting tired of this,” said Beldin.  He caught sight of the female gnome.  “You!” he said.  “You two were in on it!”

Claret squeaked as Beldin reached for a throwing axe.  She backed up to the wall of the stone building. 

Beldin hurled the hand axe. The blade whistled end over end. Instead of skewering Claret in the forehead, she disappeared into the wall, eyes crossed as the axe embedded itself in the stone.  

“I hate gnomes,” muttered Beldin.

The big man was running for his life.  “Oh no you don’t!” shouted Ilmarė.  She drew her bow…and then relaxed.

Chemb looked over his shoulder and flashed Ilmarė a quick smile.  He was going to escape.  

Then he ran into something big, green and angry.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 3b: The Belfrey*

“Are you sure Harcourt ran into this old church?” asked Ilmarė.  She hopped down to join the others at the bottom of the belfry.

Cal nodded.  His tongue flicked out. “I can smell his fear,” he said.  

“I hope this note was worth the trouble,” said Beldin.  “What’s it about, anyway?”

Ilmarė put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. There was a door at either end. “It’s an invitation to a party for someone named Ambrose.  I’ve read about him in Garniss’ books.”

“Who?” asked Cal.

“Ambrose is a fictional character.  The invitation is exactly as it was described in the story that Garniss the Sage wrote.  Now I’m not so sure that he was the original author.”

“So why did they try to steal it?” asked Cal.

“I don’t know what they would want with a note,” said Ilmarė.  “They could have forged the invitation themselves if they’re that desperate.  Perhaps it’s magical.”

“That’s odd.” Beldin peered at the ceiling. 

Cal and Ilmarė looked up.  There were two pairs of parallel grooves running from one side of the ceiling to the other, right above each doorway.  

“It looks like tracks of some sort,” said Beldin.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.  And I should know, the dwarves of Solanos Mor are known for their stone craftsmanship.” 

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “There’s something else.” She pointed at a large symbol, a strange triskelion with tentacle-like arms.  It was painted in yellow over a burning gladius engraved on the wall, the symbol of Illir. “This was once a Temple to Illiir. But that’s the Yellow Sign, so the Brotherhood must be here.”

“You’ve mentioned them before,” said Beldin.  “What would they want with that invitation?”

There was a strange whirring from the other side of one of the doors. A horrible screeching, the sound of metal that had become unaccustomed to moving after decades of neglect, tormented their ears.

Ilmarė drew her bow and faced the door.  “Did I mention that Ambrose was a master of clockworks?”

The door burst open.  A tall figure in dark clothing, moved jerkily through the doorway. It walked funny, with movements that were broad and exaggerated. 

“Now you tell us,” said Beldin.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 3c: The Marionette*

“Down!” shouted Ilmarė.  

A whistling blade flew through the air, boomeranging around the confined belfry.  Cal ducked down just as the blade returned to its owner’s hand.

It was a life-size marionette, dressed in ochre and purple robes, with china hands and face. Chains hung down from a dozen points on its body, leading up to metal ball bearings nestled in the tracks above them. 

With a roar, Cal hacked at the marionette with incredible force.  The marionette snapped sideways and spun, its arms flailing about helpless.  It spun around and around, twisting its chains so much that it lifted upwards towards the ceiling.

“Cal,” said Beldin, “I don’t know if that was such a good idea.”

Slowly at first, the marionette untwined itself.  It whirled faster and faster, until it whistled through the air at cyclonic speeds.  Then it trundled forward towards them.

Beldin held up his shield, only to be rewarded with a rapid-fire series of strikes.  Sparks jumped where the marionette’s spinning blade met his shield.

Ilmarė fired an arrow at its emotionless features.  The head tilted slightly from the impact. 

“How do we stop it?” asked Ilmarė.

“Aim for the chains!” shouted Beldin.  He was pinned down.  It was all he could do to keep the marionette from slicing through the shield.

Cal hacked at it again, higher this time.  The spinning stopped for a brief moment and the marionette bounced sideways.  Then its haphazard arms surged forward.  The big lizard barely ducked the swipe of its throwing blade.

Beldin dropped his axe and unhooked his morningstar.  The marionette was preoccupied with Cal, advancing again with slow but relentless swipes of its blade. He lifted the morningstar over his head…

The marionette’s head spun around 180 degrees to look at Beldin.  Then its body snapped around to face him.

Beldin smashed downward with the morningstar, towards the center of the marionette’s body.  Unlike the slashing attacks of the axes, the marionette felt the full force of the morningstar.  One of the chains snapped and the marionette’s arm holding the blade went limp.

“Now Cal!” 

The huge axe that Calactyte wielded sliced downward at an angle.  More chains snapped.  The marionette collapsed, lifeless.

Beldin looked down at it. “Unbelievable,” said the dwarf.

“I know,” said Ilmarė. She stared down at a dead body dressed in the robes of a priest of Illiir. It was sprawled across the doorway to the room where the marionette came from. “It looks like Illirite priests tried to reclaim this temple.”

“Quintus with them?” asked Cal.

Ilmarė turned the body over.  The man’s face was frozen in a rictus grin.  It was not Quintus.  

The elorii exhaled.  She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath.

“This is amazing craftsmanship!” exclaimed Beldin, completely unphased by the fact that a puppet had nearly murdered them. 

Ilmarė rolled her eyes. “Let’s get going before someone else pulls our strings.”


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 4a: Psychological Torture Chamber*

Every day, the cultists entered Quintus’ cage wearing expressionless, pallid masks.  

Khorbon nodded towards one of the gnomes.  “Whillispur, if you please?”

Suddenly, loud, hard music blasted all around him.  The world spun.  Psychedelic colors flashed everywhere.  

The pallid masks appeared; hundreds of them, floating in space.  They surrounded him.

Whenever Quintus tried to close his eyes, he was poked with the shocking wands.  

“There’ll be no closing your eyes,” said Khorbon.  “I have so much to show you.”

The world spun.  Quintus struggled mightily to keep from vomiting. His head throbbed.

“Illusionists are really marvelous, aren’t they?” asked Khorbon.  Quintus couldn’t respond.  “When they really get going, they can be downright dangerous.  For example, we’ve been digging through your mind for quite awhile.  And look what we found!”

Images appeared.  A woman.  Her faced covered in sweat, her eyes bloodshot.  Her hair was matted all around her.  She was dressed in a simple white robe, but her lower half was spattered with blood.  

“Oh, I know you’re confused, you’re frightened.  Who wouldn’t be?  Lets face it; you’re in a hell of a situation.  Life’s a bowl of cherries, and these are the pits, but remember,” he took a deep breath and began to sing.

“Along the shore the cloud waves break, 
The twin suns sink behind the lake, 
The shadows lengthen 
In Carcosa 
Strange is the night where black stars rise, 
And strange moons circle through the skies, 
But stranger still is 
Lost Carcosa 
Songs that the Hyades shall sing, 
Where flap the tatters of the King, 
Must die unheard in 
Dim Carcosa. 
Song of my soul, my voice is dead, 
Die though, unsung, as tears unshed 
Shall dry and die in 
Lost Carcosa
The stars that burn their charcoal death
Shrink back, they feel the hoary breath
Of he who ransoms 
Great Carcosa
He flees where queen and prophet meet
Where twin suns fall but never set
Escapes the tomb of 
Lost Carcosa.”

The images flickered faster and faster, from faces of the pallid mask, to that of a woman, her eyes glazed, blood vessels burst beneath her delicate skin.  Blood stained her distended stomach.  Her legs were limp.   

“Baebiana!” screamed Quintus. 

Then the pallid masks surrounded him.  The music stopped.  

Khorbon bent down to peer into Quintus’s face.  “Poor bastard.  It’s a shame they don’t let legionnaires marry.  Got her pregnant, then she died on him in childbirth. “

Quintus didn’t move.  His eyes were open.  Tears stained his cheeks.  Quintus’ breathing was slow and shallow.

“Well, we cracked him.  He’s catatonic,” said Khorbon from behind his mask. “I think he’ll make an excellent gift for the King in Yellow.”

Then he left.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 4b: Psychological Torture Chamber*

An eternity passed. Quintus lay there in the darkness until the door opened again.

“Quintus!  Are you…are you okay?

Ilmarė opened the cage.  Quintus didn’t come out. She went into the cage with him.

“Quintus,” said Ilmarė.  She touched him on the arm. 

Quintus blinked.  Slowly, he turned to focus on her.  “Gods…” he said. His voice was hoarse from screaming. He clutched the elf to him.

“It’s okay,” said Ilmarė. 

“Khorbon…that bastard!” said Quintus. “He killed Parsippus.  He tried to drive me mad.”

“You’re safe now,” said Ilmarė.  “Beldin and Cal are with me.  I can stay here if you need me.”

Ilmarė took off her cloak and put it around Quintus.

“No!  No, I’m okay.  You have to go after the Brotherhood,” he let her go, staring into Ilmarė’s eyes. “They’re opening a portal to a place called Carcosa.  They’re using Ambrose to do it.  You’ve got to stop them!”

“I’ll do my best,” said Ilmarė.  She looked at the naked legionnaire with concern.  He had lost weight.  Quintus’ face was haggard and drawn, with over a week’s worth of beard.

“How long have I been in here?”

“I don’t know,” said Ilmarė.  “I haven’t heard from you in three weeks.  I thought,” she fumbled with the words.  “I thought that maybe you had changed your mind.”

Quintus shook his head. “Three weeks!” He looked around, too weak to move, as if his eyes could release him. “It was supposed to be a quick favor for the Church of Illiir before I set out for home…you have to stop them!”

“I’m leaving you some food and water.  I’ll be back for you.”

Quintus grabbed her arm.  “You have to show them.  You have to let them know that it didn’t work!  I’m still sane!” Quintus’ voice was hoarse.  “I’m still sane!” he shouted again, his eyes unfocused.

“I will,” said Ilmarė slowly.  Then the crash outside of the room forced her to abandon him once more.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 5: Collapsible Room*

Cal sniffed tentatively into the empty room. It was covered in flagstones.  Ilmarė had padded across through a doorway on the same wall.  She was talking to someone; he thought he heard a man’s voice on the other side.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Beldin, swatting at Cal’s twitching tail with his shield.  

Cal tilted his head to listen.  “Quintus?”

He took a step forward.  Something creaked beneath him.

“Don’t…move,” said Beldin behind him.

The big lizard didn’t move.  His black pupils darted everywhere.  “What?”

“Those flagstones are trapped,” said Beldin.  “They’re loose.  Ilmarė was too light to set them off.  But you,” he took in Cal’s three-hundred plus pound frame, “are heavier.”

“Now you tell me,” said Cal.  

“We’re going to move slowly off the stones, one foot at a time.” The dwarf had both arms out, trying to maintain his balance.  The flagstones creaked beneath them.

Someone shouted from the other room.  Calactyte’s tail twitched in agitation. Beldin’s eyes crossed as he watched the lizard’s long, whip-like tail sway back and forth in front of him.

It was too much.  Two of the flagstones collapsed beneath Cal.  He fell through the hole up to his waist and clawed for purchase.

“Stop!” shouted Beldin.  But it was too late.

More flagstones fell in.  To Beldin’s horror, the collapsing flagstones radiated outward.  Cal disappeared with a yelp.  

Beldin caught a glimpse of Ilmarė sticking her head out of the doorway.  Then the ground fell out from beneath him.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 6a: Maze*

“Ouch,” said Cal. He rose out of the rubble, shrugging off several large wooden panels.  

They had fallen into the room below, a maze of sorts.  Wooden panels, eight feet tall and five feet wide, supported each flagstone above them.  They were connected to sturdy wooden poles.

“I told you to keep that tail under control!” muttered Beldin from beneath a pile of wood and debris.

Ilmarė landed next to them.

“Why didn’t you set off the trap?” asked Cal.

“Osalian blesses my steps,” said Ilmarė with a sniff.  “I have nothing to fear from such things.”

Just then, the sound of chanting reached their ears. 

“That can’t be good,” said Ilmarė.  “Let’s go.”

She turned down a corridor flanked by the wooden panels. The sound of many small balls clattered along the floor. 

Ilmarė windmilled as she stepped on them.  Beldin caught her on his shield.

“Your god still blessing your steps, huh?” the dwarf said gruffly.

“Very funny,” said Ilmarė. She looked around. “Now where did Cal go to?”


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 6b: Maze*

Cal stalked in the opposite direction, sniffing as he went.  He turned the corner just in time to see a woman dressed in bright yellow robes and a pallid mask toss marbles beneath one of the wooden panels.  

“You!” shouted Cal.  He took his axe off of his back strap.

“Ahh!” shouted Orpen.  She blurred sideways as Cal’s axe rent a gash in the floor.  “You’ll bring down the ceiling if you keep that up!”

Cal swung again, but she blurred backwards.  “Stop doing that!” he shouted.

The woman shrieked and ran down through the maze. “Druf!” she shouted.  “Druf, shoot him!”

Cal caught a glimpse of her profile as Orpen looked straight ahead.  She was preparing herself for something.  

He swung his axe downwards again but she blurred forward, out of reach.  When Cal turned the corner, he saw Orpen clear a long pit.

She spun to laugh at the big lizard.  But he wasn’t there.

There was a thud behind her.

Orpen slowly turned around to look.

“I jump good,” said Cal, grinning a saurial grin.  

“Down!” shouted someone from within the pit.  

Orpen ducked, and a crossbow bolt thunked into Cal’s shoulder.  The lizard looked down at it in disdain. 

Orpen dove past him.  She grinned back at Cal and turned, only to smack into Beldin’s shield.

The cultist fell backwards and raised her hands.  “I give up!” shouted Orpen.

Beldin lowered his morningstar to point it at the woman’s head.  “Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” said Orpen.  “None of us will.”

Then the hilt of Captain Bezyli’s dagger appeared in her forehead. 

Beldin whirled.  “What did you do that for?”

Ilmarė, her hand still extended from the throw.  “She hooked her foot around a pole.  She was going to pull down the ceiling.”  Sure enough, the edge of the woman’s foot was just underneath the wooden panel.

“The chanting,” said Cal, peering into the pit.  Another crossbow bolt thudded into his chest from below.  He didn’t seem to notice. “It’s coming from somewhere down below us.”

“We’ve got to find a way down there,” said Ilmarė.

Cal lifted his axe and roared.  Then he jumped headlong into the pit. 

A geyser of blood splashed upwards.  Whoever was in there had surely been cleaved in twain by the combined force of Calactyte and gravity. Some of the gore spattered on Ilmarė’s boots. 

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” said Ilmarė with a look of disdain.


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

I like Cal.


----------



## talien

Calactyte, played by my brother, is played a bit like a superhero.  He's big, he's friendly, and nobody understands him.  He's also a barbarian, so he gets to be really, really violent.

Cal's back story will be fleshed out quite a bit as the story hour progresses.  Especially when we go back to his village and learn about his tribe.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 7a: Training Room*

Ilmarė and Beldin carefully wended their way down the steps. 

“Be ready for anything,” said Ilmarė.  “Who knows what the Brotherhood is capable of?”

A huge axe blade jutted from the wall.  Ilmarė hopped backwards in surprise.

Two more hacks and the wall smashed open.  Cal stood in the opening, covered in blood and dust.

“Oh, hi Cal,” said Ilmarė.  “Nice of you to join us.”

“Hi,” said Cal.  He sniffed the air.  “We’re not alone.”

The room was filled with all manner of clockworks.  Abandoned mechanical horses, limp humanoid bodies, and large clocks of all sorts lay forgotten and unused.  Something whirred at the far end of the chamber.

“The orrery is almost ready!” said the voice of an old man across the room.  “Now if I could just find the invitation…”

The orrery was about the size of a merry-go-round, but in place of the colorful roof and all the prancing horses and noble carriages there were a set of brass globes mounted on sturdy metal arms. The arms joined at the center, where Ambrose tinkered up an elaborate set of gears and cogs that moved the globes around in great ovals. 

Standing in front of the orrery was a large, white shape.  It was too far away to make out, cloaked in the shadows of the room. An older man was moving back and forth behind it, dressed in a workman’s apron.

“That’s got to be Ambrose,” said Ilmarė.  She drew her bow. “And if he’s working on an orrery, that means he’s opening a portal to Carcosa.”

“What’s the invitation to, anyway?” asked Beldin.

“It’s a costume party,” said Ilmarė.  

A clanking man-sized marionette swung into view, blocking their path to the room beyond.

“He’s going as a puppet?  Stupid costume,” said Cal. 

Ilmarė knocked an arrow.  “Take it out!  We’ve got to stop Ambrose before he finishes making that orrery!” 

The marionette winched forward as Cal and Beldin advanced on it, axes raised.

“You know the routine Cal,” said Beldin, shield raised.  “You go high…”

Cal hacked at the marionette’s head, slicing downwards.  It spun sideways, but not fast enough to avoid the blow.

“And I’ll go low!” shouted Beldin.  He rushed forward, swiping his axe towards the marionette’s torso.  It smacked upwards so hard it hit the ceiling.

“Too easy,” said Cal.

Then the marionette swung back, whirling as it went.  It gashed open Cal’s arm and hit Beldin’s shield so hard that it knocked him backwards.

An arrow ricocheted off of the marionette’s head. 

The big lizard crouched and slapped the marionette with his tail.  It spun sideways, its blade ricocheting off of the ceiling.

Cal raised his huge axe up to finish the marionette off.  Then he froze in place.

“Cal?” asked Beldin.

The marionette stopped flopping around awkwardly.  It moved with all the precision of a man.  Mimicking Ilmarė’s throw from before, it hurled its curved blade at Beldin.

Beldin ducked as the blade SPTANG-ed off of the dwarf’s shield. 

“There’s someone else in the room!” shouted Ilmarė.  “There!”

Beldin got a glimpse of a portly, balding man with a wide grin.  Then the room burst with gray sticky strands.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 7b: Training Room*

Beldin struggled in the web.  He reached for his smaller hand axe and began hacking at it.  

“Cal!” shouted Beldin.

Cal was trapped within the webs, but he had been frozen long before that by Khorbon’s magic.  Another smaller creature, a gnome, was in the opposite corner, dressed in yellow robes and wearing a pallid mask.  It was the gnome who cast the web.  Behind them, Ilmarė was completely concealed by the strands.

The marionette started spinning backwards, entwining the chains that held it up.  Beldin knew what was coming next.  He hacked more urgently at the strands.

The marionette’s whirling slowed to a stop.  Then, with its blade outstretched, it began to whirl clockwise, faster and faster.

The marionette was spinning so fast that it hummed. Its arms and legs had transformed into a blurring top.  All that Beldin could make out was the outstretched blade, which was visible as a steel-colored smear at the outer edge of the marionette whirlwind. 

“Cal, wake up!” shouted Beldin.  

“This is going to be grand,” said Khorbon.  “The Unspeakable One will be so pleased when we arrive at his party.”  

The gnome giggled.  “Now give us the invitation.”

The marionette whirled closer.  Web strands began snapping off one at a time.  

“Ilmarė has it,” said Beldin.  “And she’s on the other side of your web.”

“No problem,” said Khorbon.  “We’ll just let the marionette clear a path.”  He grinned.  “After it cuts through you of course.”

“Cal!” shouted Beldin.  He was barely able to insert his shield between the marionette and the web.  

The marionette’s blade began searing through the shield, shooting sparks everywhere.  The shriek of metal on metal was deafening.

Beldin’s shield was slowly, painfully, pushed out of the way from the force of the marionette’s attack.  The sparks edged closer to his face.

“CAL!”

All Beldin could see over his shield was Khorbon’s face.  He was looking up at something in fear.  

Inside his helmet, Beldin smiled.  He knew what Khorbon was looking at: one big, pissed off lizard.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 7c: Training Room*

With a roar, Cal tore out of the sticky strands.  He hit the marionette with his axe so hard that it snapped free from its moorings and smashed into the giggling gnome.  They both lay crumpled in a heap.  

Cal’s earflaps were spread wide and his pupils dilated.  He bared his fangs and roared again.

“Cal!” shouted Beldin.  “The web!  Cut me down!”

Another mighty swing dropped Beldin to his feet.

“Now,” said the dwarf, advancing on Khorbon.  “You and I have some unfinished business.”

Khorbon pulled a flute from his robes.  “Yes we do,” he replied.  “I don’t think you’ve heard the Unspeakable One’s call. Let me play you a few notes, you can dance to it.” He put his lips to the flute.

A throwing axe shivered in Khorbon’s chest before he could finish.  

“Dwarves don’t dance,” said Beldin.  

Khorbon fell on his face, dead.

Ilmarė finished burning her way through the webs.  She looked thoroughly irritated.

There was a crash as a large white and red blur, armed with an axe larger than Cal’s, slammed into the big lizard.  They struggled back and forth, two axe hafts pressed against each other.

“What the hell is that?” asked Beldin.

“That,” said Ilmarė, “is Ambrose’s costume.”


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Part 8: Casting Room*

The clockwork minotaur had a head formed of painted carousel horses, separated it into two halves.  Portions of other horses were added to widen the whole thing. A pair of gilt unicorn horns jutted from its head.  A great many ornaments--metal roses and fine brass fittings--were worked into the head so they spun and moved to draw the eye. The ears turned this way and that. Its fine mane was made of curtain tassels that tossed to and fro as it walked. The minotaur wore a cloak made of red velvet curtains on its back.

It tossed Cal off like a ragdoll.  Before the ss’ressen could react, the clockwork minotaur slashed outwards with its axe.  Cal spun backwards, face first into the webbing.  He hung there, dripping blood.

Beldin snarled.  “Never seen anything like it,” he said, drawing his morningstar.  “It’s got to have a weak spot.”

“Beldin, no!” shouted Ilmarė.  

Beldin smashed his morningstar into the minotaur’s knee with both hands.  The blow should have at least chipped it.  

There was a terrible creak as the minotaur’s head swiveled to look down at Beldin.  

“Magnificent,” was all the dwarf got out.  Then it backhanded him, swatting Beldin into the webbing.

The clockwork minotaur turned its head again.  It focused on Ilmarė.  The minotaur whirred to life, stomping towards her one plodding step at a time.  

“We can’t beat it,” said Ilmarė, her eyes wide.  “We can’t…wait!” She fumbled in her pack as the albino minotaur advanced towards her.  It was so close that she could hear the ticking of its gears.  

She found it.

Ilmarė thrust the invitation up over her head.  “Ambrose, I have your invitation!” 

The clicking continued, but nothing happened.  

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” said Ambrose.

Ilmarė peeked out behind the note.  The clockwork minotaur’s axe was inches from the note, stopped in mid-swing.  

Ambrose climbed into his orrery.  As the globes whirled about, the patterns of their movement created a force that pushed the orrery off the ground. Ambrose pushed the bellows on the massive heads to push it towards Ilmarė.

“Now I can go to my party!” said Ambrose.  The orrery silently floated over to the clockwork minotaur’s back.  He tapped it once with a tool, and the back opened up.  Then Ambrose got in it.

The minotaur immediately whirled to life.  It lowered the axe, turned around, and stepped onto the orrery.  

Ilmarė peeked into the room.  A glowing portal was at its center.  

Beyond the portal, she could make out a city with strange, alien towers. It loomed over a misty lake.  A rising moon appeared to be in front of the towers instead of behind it.  And when she looked upon it, she knew.

“Carcosa,” whispered Ilmarė.

The flying orrery, the clockwork minotaur, and Ambrose floated through the portal.  It winked closed and was no more.


----------



## talien

*Deus Ex Machina - Conclusion*

Ilmarė stood there for an eternity.  Someone put a hand on her shoulder.  

It was Quintus.  He was wearing clothes that were not his.  Several of the Sea Lord’s guard stood behind him.  Some were tending to Cal and Beldin’s wounds.  The webs had long since melted away.

“They’re dead,” said Quintus.  He kicked Khorbon’s corpse.  “Good.  Looks like you didn’t need our help.”  He addressed Ilmarė with a slight smile, but she knew it was all a bluff.  He had been through too much to not be disappointed.  Quintus would have killed Khorbon with his bare hands if he had the chance.

A guard handed Quintus a rolled up piece of parchment.  He unrolled it.  “Looks like the plans to build some kind of crushing machine,” he said.  “I wonder what he was building it for?”

Ilmarė finally found her voice.  “They were stringing Ambrose along, promising him an invitation to a party,” she said.  “Whatever he built for them, it was not meant to be in our world.  

“Well, he’s gone now.  And the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign is either dead or fled.”  Quintus encompassed the room with a sweep of one hand.  “I will help the priests of Illiir rebuild this place.  That’s the best revenge of all.”

Ilmarė was silent.

“What’s wrong?”

“I delivered the note to Ambrose,” she said.  “But now I’m not so sure that I should have.”

“Why?” said Quintus.  “He’s gone.  Khorbon’s dead.  The Brotherhood is scattered.  What more is there?”

“I just can’t help but wonder,” said Ilmarė, looking over her shoulder at where the portal once was. “What happens when Ambrose gets to that party?”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 17: Adventus Regis - Introduction*

This adventure, “Adventus Regis,” is converted from the Miskatonic University Library Association monograph, "Ripples from Carcosa," written by Oscar Rios. You can buy the adventure at: http://catalog.chaosium.com/product_info.php?products_id=640. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Bijoux (fihali druid) played by Melissa Gendron
·	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

Michael Tresca (that’s me) was Dungeon Master for this session.  

I pulled out all the stops for this adventure: cardboard props, music from Requiem for a Dream, chocolate coins, Mega Miniatures’ Town Folk (I used them in groups of eight) and liberal use of my Battle Box from Fiery Dragon Productions.  Did I mention I love my Battle Box?

I didn’t tell the players that this was a Call of Cthulhu adventure, but it didn’t take long for them to become completely freaked out.  I should point out that this adventure is fairly disturbing, which helped put our PCs in some moral quandaries. As my brother is fond of putting it, “this is SO Resident Evil.”

I tried a bunch of different writing styles with this story hour.  There are references to several of Campbell’s King in Yellow stories (specifically, what happens to Cal and Kham).  The descriptions of the byakhee are straight from Lovecraft’s “The Festival.”  And of course, there are the verses from Blish’s “More Light” version of the play.  It’s a bit difficult to understand what’s going on without the context of the play itself.  After all, this adventure kicks off a horrible inevitability—the birth of the King in Yellow, a play that drives to madness all who witness it.

The end fight was a tough battle, but perfectly balanced…a rarity.  Fortunately, they did not take on the Avatar of Has--I mean the Unspeakable One. But then, any day when you can put down two byakhee (two very large, advanced byakhee) is a good day indeed.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Prologue*



> _UOHT: You have been looking at Carcosa again.
> 
> CASSILDA: No…Nobody can see Carcosa before the Hyades rise.  I was only looking at the lake of Hali.  It swallows so many suns.
> 
> UOHT: And you will see it swallow so many more.  These mists are bad for you; they seep into everything.  Come inside.
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​_



Though Grand Coryan was the center of the Empire and arguably the most exciting city in the known world, it was good to get away, and the trip promised to be a wonderful vacation. Taking a luxurious river barge up the Corvis River, Ilmarė arrived at the town of Vestalanium.  

To her surprise, Cal and Bijoux were on the barge as well. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked.  They were easy to spot in a crowd, and on a crowded ship they were impossible to ignore.

“Quintus invited us,” said Bijoux.  “Sebastian is here as well, below decks.”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  “Quintus didn’t say anything about any of you.”

Calactyte tilted his saurian head to look quizzically at the Elorii. “You are sad he’s not here?” 

“I didn’t say that,” she snapped back at the big lizard.

Sebastian joined them shortly thereafter.  “I didn’t know you were on board,” he said in his usual half-whisper.  “Dodging trouble?”

“What makes you say that?” asked Ilmarė.

“Because that’s what I’m doing,” said Sebastian.  “Beldin sent for me.  It seems that Elabac has summoned the best and brightest of Solanos Mor once again to train his replacement.  Beldin wishes to have no part of it.  Vestalanium seems to be a good excuse to lay low until a successor is chosen.”

Known for being one of the most exclusive of all Coryan resort towns, Vestalanium was nestled amid rolling green hills dotted with date and olive orchards.

“Quintus sent for us as well,” said Bijoux.  “We were attacked in Freeport. He thought it best that we spend a week in Vestalanium until things settle there.”

“Hopefully, Dril and Vlad can handle the Brotherhood,” said Ilmarė. The Milandisian and Altherian had journeyed northwards to Freeport to keep an eye on Brother Egil and Lucius. “As for me, I’m taking a well-deserved vacation.  I did a favor for a senator.”

“One doesn’t just get into Vestalanium,” said Sebastian. “Quintus pulled some serious strings.”

The level of exclusivity of the town was evident as soon as they arrived.  Just after dark, slaves and servants of the resort villa of Ravulus met them at the docks.  They were loaded onto a littler with their baggage and carried to the resort. Double the amount of slaves were assigned to the big ss’ressen. 

They were shown to beautiful rooms, given a glass of fine wine, and then slept upon a marvelously comfortable bed.

It was the best rest Ilmarė had in a long time.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 1a: The Silence of Serenity*



> _CASSILDA: I am not sure, my Prince, that Carcosa is in the world.  In any event, it is certainly fruitless to talk about the matter. _
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



The next morning, they awoke well rested and hungry, eager to see the town and what it might have to offer in the way of shopping and distractions. After all, it was a vacation.

A young slave girl named Tula summoned them to the dining area for breakfast.  

Calactyte was already sucking down his meal when Sebastian joined them. A breakfast of dates, bread and wine mixed with honey was served.  Ilmarė poked tentatively at the dates while Bijoux lapped from a bowl of wine and honey. Two musicians played flute and kithara while a lovely dark-haired woman sang softly.  

Sebastian scanned the room.  “Is that…”

“Yes,” said Ilmarė.  “Thralen Vodric val’Ossan,” she said in low tones.  “He has not shown any interest in us as of yet.”

“Thralen?” asked Sebastian, speaking a little louder.  “Is that you?”

Thralen was a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair.  He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt.  The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery.  Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet.  Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.

He looked from his seat across the room.  “Sebastian?  Why, it is you!”

Ilmarė snorted.  “I’ll grant him that there are a few purpled-haired Elorii,” she looked at Cal and Bijoux.  “But you two…you’re hard to miss.”

Bijoux pointed at a side table set for children.

“Then that must be…”

“Hi Cal!” said Emric, bounding up to him.  “How are you?”

“I’m good kid,” said Cal, flashing the boy a mouthful of teeth.  “How are ya?”

“I’m going horseback riding!” responded the boy. It was obvious the boy greatly admired the big lizard.

“Back to your seat, Emric,” said Thralen.  He looked displeased.  

“Awww.”

“No talking back young man.  Back to your table.  Now.”

Emric sulked back to the table with the other children of the other resort guests, where an older, matronly woman attended him.  

At the close of the meal, the musicians performed a set of three songs, the woman joining the pair of men with tympani. 

“I thought you were taking Emric to Milandir?” asked Sebastian.

Thralen looked flustered.  “Recent events have made it evident that--let’s just say it’s safer in Vestalanium,” said Thralen.  “I thought it best I give the boy some fresh air.  The air in Milandir is…thick.”

“I understand,” said Sebastian. “The air is similarly thick in Freeport.”

“And Grand Coryan,” added Ilmarė with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 1b: Silentium Serenitatis*



> _CASSILDA: The people!  Who are they?  You care as little for the people as Uoht does.  Thale, I know your heart, and his as well.  All the diadem means to either of you is your sister.  There’s no other reward now, for being a king in Hastur.  As for black stars, enough!  They radiate nothing but the night._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



A well-dressed man arrived, his hair short and gray.  His eyes were sharp and his smile seemed comfortable upon his face.

“Honored guests, welcome.  Welcome to Ravulus, my humble home.  I am Gaius Phillipus, your host here during your stay in Vestalanium.  I hope the food and music was pleasing to you all?”

He shook each of their hands and greeted them by name.  Ilmarė noticed a tattoo of the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior worn proudly on his forearm.  It was the same tattoo that Quintus wore.

“I have taken the liberty to arrange a full day of amusement and indulgences for you all.  Tula will be your guide about Vestalanium.  She knows the town very well and is at your command for the duration of your stay with us. Now then, to start your day off she will take you about town.  We have many fine shops, a wonderful public garden and our bathhouse is second to none in the whole empire.”

“A bath,” said Ilmarė wistfully. “I haven’t been able to take a bath in months.”

“You have a reservation at the bathhouse at the sixth hour. Tula will make sure you aren’t late, because you might not get in otherwise.  They are booked days in advance.”

Gaius looked at Cal. “If you should become hungry there are many fine eateries in town as well.  Tula can guide you to any of them.”

Cal’s head snapped up.  His nostrils flared.  Then he went back to eating his dates.

“But do not fill your bellies completely, because I have a wonderful dinner planned. At the eighth hour we will all board my private barge and enjoy an evening feast upon the river.”

“Sounds nice,” said Sebastian.

“I have much entertainment planned for us.  From Milandir, the magician Coelius will astound you.  Then you will laugh to the antics of Dives and Muffin, a man and his amazing trained dog.  I have also imported two of the finest dancers from Altheria, dark beauties that will steal your heart.”

Ilmarė and Bijoux exchanged glances but chose not to interrupt.

“Then, to finish our dinner, a matched pair of gladiators will entertain us with a fighting display. Not bad for your first day in Vestalanium, eh?  But what of tomorrow?“

Gaius paused dramatically. 

“Surely you have heard of the new play debuting tonight, the work of the famous Livius Carbo and his new troupe.  This will be play like no other, a first in the empire.  Fully reserved for weeks, but I have invitations for all of you to attend the show tomorrow night!”

The other guests applauded. Cal looked around in confusion at the sound.

“After the show,” continued Gaius,” we will have wine and a reading of poetry here, in the dining room.  Our wonderful staff will play music, of course.  But before you begin your day of activities, our players have prepared a special set to welcome you to Vestalanium.  I give you,” he bowed low with arms spread wide,” the players of Ravulus!”

At that point, the musicians and singer began their final set of the morning.  Gaius exited the room.

“Well, looks like we’re on our own,” said Sebastian.  “Where would you like to go?”

“Did he mention eateries?” asked Cal.

“The Shopping Square it is!” said Tula.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 2: The Murmurs of Madness*



> _CAMILLA: No, no.  Please. You cannot give the diadem to me.  I will not have it.
> 
> CASSILDA: And why not?
> 
> CAMILLA: Then I would be sent the Yellow Sign._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



There was much to see and do in Vestalanium.  Most buildings in town were constructed of fine white marble and columns abounded. Street traffic was light—the town was far too exclusive to have noisy crowds.  The weather was perfect with blue skies and the sound of the Corvis River never far away.

Sebastian scanned the square.  “I think I should like a pastry,” he said.

Dozens of shops lined the spacious square.  All the varied goods of Coryan were offered there, minus the crowds.  Food and drink was available from various numerous carts and performers were at every corner.  

“Why can’t you leave that axe behind?” asked Ilmarė in irritation.  “The rest of us are pretending we’re civilized.”  They had all changed into the best clothes they could afford.  

Shoppers parted at the strange sight of a lizard man and cat woman.  Cal and Bijoux seemed oblivious to the attention, although the staff was far too polite to mention it.

Cal patted the bearded axe on his back. “Just in case,” he said, bobbing his head.  

The dark-kin stepped over to one cart brimming with confections of all types.  He bumped into someone who was staring at Calactyte.

“Oh I’m sorry…” he blinked as he took in the man before him.  He wore the clothes of a patrician, but his features were undeniable.  As were his purple lenses. “Kham?”

“Pardon?” said the man, taking a step back. “My name is Katticus Maximus Val’Abebi.” He looked around to see if anyone noticed him.  Then Kham took off his lenses and winked at Sebastian. “And I have never met you before in my life. I’m just an ordinary nobleman vacationing in this fine town.”

A crier wandered about, dropping metal tokens in peoples’ hands.  He dropped one in Kham’s hand.  “Come see a play like none before!  Come, see the story for yourself!”

Cal sniffed in Kham’s direction.  “That guy smells familiar,” he said.

The crier dropped another token into Sebastian’s hand.  “The royal family plots and plans, the true king arrives!  It is a tale of wonder and mystery.  Who will prevail?  The story unfolds under the stars!”

The crier placed more tokens in the palms of Ilmarė and Bijoux. He carefully circumnavigated Cal.

“Come see one thousand lamps illuminate the final act!  Beautiful actresses!  Handsome actors!”

Cal pointed at Kham.  “Hey, that guy looks just like Kham.”

The crier wandered away.  “Costumes like none on Onara!  Come see Adventus Regis!”

Sebastian looked down at the palm of his hand.  It had a sickly feel to it, as if the metal was not only cold, but damp as well.  The yellow sign upon it was actually yellow, even though no paint appeared to have been applied.  It was a three-armed symbol emanating from a central point.  

The three arms of the Yellow Sign undulated toward him, reaching out as if calling to him. The world swam as Sebastian was overcome with dizziness and nausea…

With a shout, he dropped it to the ground and stomped on it several times. 

“Did you see that?” Sebastian asked Kham.

But Kham was transfixed.  His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

“That’s Fleshripper, right?” asked Cal.  

Kham took his hands off the cursed sword at Cal’s words.  He looked up at Sebastian. Whatever he was thinking, it was concealed behind his shaded lenses.

“Nope,” he said slowly.  He deposited the token into his belt pouch. Then he grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby cart and took a swig.

“He even drinks like Kham,” muttered Cal.

“I think,” said Sebastian, “I should like to leave here.  Immediately.”

“Perhaps the gardens will be more to your liking,” said Tula. “Many of our visitors find it quite soothing.”

“I would like that,” said Sebastian.

“Will you be coming with us…Katticus?” asked Tula.  Her demure smile indicated a familiarity that would normally be scandalous between slave and patrician.

Kham took another swig and smiled back, but he was unconvincing.  “Oh sure, why not.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 3: Public Gardens*



> _CAMILLA: But mother, there IS something new; we do not need a stately wedding yet.  That’s what I came to tell you, just before the old quarrel started up again.
> 
> CASSILDA: And what is that?
> 
> CAMILLA: Mother, there’s a stranger in the city._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



The garden was filled with rows of beautiful flowering plants, fruit trees, and numerous fountains depicting all manner of fantastic mythical creatures.  The paths were twisting and lined with white gravel.  Benches were plentiful, as were vendors of fruit and wine. Musicians were placed just out of earshot of one another, playing upon flute or lyre.

Ilmarė stretched.  “It is so rare that I get to appreciate Osalian’s gifts,” she said.  “His miracles are everywhere.”

Sebastian wandered over to a stone bench and sat down.  “Yes, it is beautiful,” he said.  “Although I worry about the little girl.”

“Who?” asked Cal.  He was sniffing fruit hanging from a tree.

“A centurion asked about a little blonde girl named Nelaria,” said Bijoux.  “She ran off from her father earlier today.  They think she might be in the gardens.”

Kham, having finished off his bottle, was already patronizing another wine vendor.

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” said Ilmarė.  “Human children tend to get lost easily.”

Sebastian placed one palm on the bench.  It felt wet and sticky.

When he looked at his hand, it was covered in red.  Blood.

There was a trail down the side of the bench, across the gravel path, and around a rosebush.  Sebastian stood up and followed the path.

Hidden from view was the little girl, sitting on the ground off the main path.  Her white toga was spattered with blood.  In her hands was a dead kitten, its head dashed in against the side of another stone bench.  Her arms slowly swung out, striking the body of the dead animal against the stone bench.  Over and over and over and over.

“Mother, there is a stranger in the city,” she muttered.  “Mother, there is a stranger in the city…”

Sebastian took one step back. Then he came to his senses and grabbed the girl by the arms.  “Stop that!” he shouted.

The little girl dropped the dead kitten. It fell to the ground with a plop.

The dark-kin kneeled down to look the girl in the eyes.  “Is your name Nelaria?”

Her eyes were unfocused. “My name is Camilla,” she said.

“We’d better get you back to your father,” said Sebastian.  He brought her out from the hedge.

The rest of them looked on in shock as Sebastian walked out with a little girl spattered in blood.  

“What happened?” asked Ilmarė.

“I’ll send for the guard,” said Bijoux.  She spread her wing flaps wide and leaped over the hedge out of sight.

“I don’t know, exactly.  She battered a kitten to death,” said Sebastian.  “It’s back there.  Cal, can you retrieve it?”

“Sure,” said Cal.  He hunched down behind the bushes.

It didn’t take long for Nelaria’s father to arrive, along with the guards.  He scooped her up into his arms.

“That’s your daughter?” asked Sebastian.  “She said her name was Camilla.”

“She must be confused,” he replied.  “This is Nelaria. Thank you very much for your help in finding her. Nelaria was out of my sight for just a few minutes when the troupe started rehearsing the play.”

“The play?  Adventus Regis?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Yes, that’s the one,” responded the father.  “The chariot races were postponed until next week because the play has taken over the arena.  All four thousand seats are reserved for tonight’s performance. Nelaria was playing with her kitten in the stands while I was working on setting up the lamps for the play.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “About that kitten—“

Cal came out from behind the hedge. “Well, I didn’t find a kitten.” He dangled a bloody mess of fur and meat.  “But I did find whatever this used to be.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 4: The Bathhouse*



> _NOATALBA: Unfair, unfair!  It was Alar invented the Pallid Mask!  Aldones--
> 
> THE KING: Why should I be fair?  I am the living god. As for Aldones, he is the father of you all.  That is the price: the fixing of the Mask.
> 
> ALL: Oh!
> 
> CASSILDA (bitterly): Not upon us, oh King; not upon us!_
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



The bathhouse was a lavish structure staffed by nearly a hundred attractive slaves.  Separate bathing areas were available for both men and women.  There was also a well-supplied shop, full of lotions, soaps, soft cotton towels and robes, sandals, snacks, wines and tonics.

“You may choose a slave attendant to serve you,” said Tula, ushering them into the bathhouse. She leaned in to Kham. “I got you the most attractive.”

Two female slaves arrived to usher Ilmarė and Bijoux into a separate area.  

“Mind the hair,” said Ilmarė.  

Bijoux’s eyes widened when she saw the blades, called strigil, that the slaves used to scrape off the massage oil. “Yes,” she added, “mind the hair.”

“No attendant is necessary for me,” said Sebastian.  “I will bathe myself, thank you.”

“Well that’s a first,” said Kham.  He craned his neck to look at Cal.  “What about you?”

“I’ll take three slaves,” said the Ss’ressen.  Three burly male slaves looked on in dismay as Cal pointed a clawed digit at each of them.  “My scales need a lot of work.”

A beautiful, dark-skinned slave stepped into view.  “This is Samara,” Tula said to Kham. “She will take care of you.”

The bath was soothing, but Kham couldn’t relax.  His mind kept wandering back to the voice he had heard in his head, the voice that he had never heard before and hoped he would never hear again.

Kham moved on to the massage room, where Samara rubbed him down with oils.  She buffed off the oils with a rough stone, leaving his skin tender.

He had seen the Yellow Sign before, in Freeport.  Kham had even encountered a manifestation of the Unspeakable One. But he had never heard a voice.  

Samara next massaged him with thicker, heated oil.  She then began to scrape it off with a bladed strigil.

Kham lied to Sebastian.  He did see the three arms of the Yellow Sign squirm towards him like the tentacles of an octopus.  But it was the voice that unnerved him.

It had said, “_Kill them for your king_.” And Kham knew, with certainty, that it was the voice of Fleshripper speaking to him.

A warm liquid, warmer than the oil, was dripping onto his back.  Kham turned his head to see what Samara was up to.

The beautiful slave girl stood beside the table, her eyes appearing full of loss and hopelessness.  The wide, flat blade she held was drenched with blood, dripping off of it onto the tile floor, the massage table, and Kham’s back. Her left arm was held outward and upon the bare forearm there were two very deep cuts, radiating out from a gash at the inside of her elbow.  

“What in Althares…” said Kham, spinning onto his back.

She lifted the strigil again to her arm, pushing it bone deep into her flesh without so much as flinching.  Before Kham could react, she began to lower the blade of the strigil, carving a third deep cut into her flesh.

Kham backpedaled off the table, only to slip in her blood and the oil, slapping to the ground.  It stunned him.  He yelped from the pain and shock, and then struggled to his feet.

Samara raised the strigil over her arm again.  Kham grabbed her by the wrists.  “Stop that!”

Her hands went limp.  The strigil dropped to the cold stone of the floor with a clatter.

Sebastian skidded into the room, a towel around his waist.  His forked tail flicked in agitation behind him. “What’s wrong?”

Kham didn’t have to explain. The blood streaming from her arm had mingled with the oils on the floor, turning the scene into a sanguine-colored nightmare.  

“Here,” said Sebastian, grabbing a towel from a shelf on the wall.  It was then that Kham noticed just how jagged and yellow Sebastian’s claws were.  Suddenly, he understood why the dark-kin always wore gloves.  “This should help stop the--”

He never finished.  Samara became frantic, thrashing madly at Sebastian.  Kham got something in his eyes.  He touched his face to wipe it away, only to discover Samara’s blood on his fingertips.

Sebastian was slammed against the table.  Samara began to wail. 

“Let me die!” she screamed. “Just let me die!  It’ll be better this way! I beg you, show pity.  I didn’t hurt the man, only myself!  Please, let me die!”

Sebastian shook his head to try to focus.  “This is madness,” he said. Then he pointed at Samara with open palms. “Fuco aspergo!”

A coruscating cone of colors beamed from his hands into Samara.  She shrieked once more, and then collapsed to the ground.

“Finally,” said Sebastian.  He looked over at Kham.  “Are you all right?”

“I-I’ll be fine,” said Kham.  But he would not be fine ever again, for Samara had shrieked something else.

“Not upon us, oh King,” she said.  “Not upon us!”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 5: The Metalworker’s Shop*



> _CASSILDA: Nobody, nobody these days goes about Hastur but the hearse-driver.  Sensible people hide their faces even from themselves._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



When they passed through the shopping square, one of the shops was closed.  It had a small wagon and a horse in front.

“Beldin!” said Sebastian.  “You made it!”

The dwarf stood outside of the shop, looking perturbed.  “Yes, my bath was interrupted by some madwoman. It will take days to get my beard dry.” Droplets of bathwater still clung to his facial hair.

“We know,” said Kham.  He wandered over to another wine shop.

Ilmarė peered in the window.  “There’s four teenaged humans inside,” she said.  “They’re sweeping something up.”

“Mopping up blood,” Sebastian said morosely.

“I doubt it,” said Beldin.  “It’s common for a metalworker’s shop to sweep up the filings from the day.”

“That doesn’t explain why the shop is closed in the middle of the day,” said Bijoux.

Just then, the oldest of the boys left the shop.  He started loading three large baskets onto the wagon.

Sebastian walked over to the wagon.  The boy was clearly in a rush and sped up loading the wagon as Sebastian came closer.  As the dark-kin closed, the horse whinnied and fretted.

“Whoa,” the boy said to the horse, “whoa.”

“You seem to be having some difficulty,” said Sebastian with a sly smile.  “Mind if we ask you some questions while you pack?”

“Guess so,” said the boy.  “Never seen him like this.”

Beldin joined them. “Who owns this shop?”

“Selvius,” said the boy.  “I’m his son, Sevius.”

Ilmarė looked down into the basket.  “You make those pendants for the play?”

“Yes,” said Sevius, struggling to keep his horse calm.  “This is the last batch.  We’ve already delivered four batches to the arena.”

Kham came back with a half-empty bottle of wine. “Why are you closed?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.  “My father hasn’t been sleeping well the past two nights.  His work had become sloppy during the past week and he seemed nervous all last night.”

“It’s getting late in the day,” interrupted Tula.  ““If I don’t return you before half past the seventh hour, I will be punished.”

Kham swayed a bit from side to side.  “So you closed because your father was nervous?”

Sevius clambered up on top of the wagon.  “No.  We’re closed because my father is dead.  He hung himself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”

And with that he rode off.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 6a: The Murmurs Become Whispers*



> _CASSILDA: I…suppose it is too late to be afraid.  Well then; I am not.
> 
> STRANGER: Well spoken, Queen.  There is in fact nothing to be afraid of._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



They all washed up, changed their clothing, and readied themselves for the dinner cruise.  Litters waited to take them to the town’s dock.

“A word,” said Sebastian to Thralen. 

The older man raised his eyebrows but stepped away from the other guests to speak with Sebastian.

“Yes?”

“Don’t go to the play,” said Sebastian.  “I have seen…signs that something is not right. Do not go to see it. Stay here at Ravulus, with the children.”

Thralen’s brow furrowed.  “You mean Adventus Regis. Do you expect trouble?”

“Yes,” said Sebastian.  “Worse than in Freeport.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is,” interjected Kham, clearly drunk.  “The local prefect, Octavius, will be there.  The place will be surrounded by Coryan’s best and brightest.”

“That bad.” Thralen’s gaze wandered to Emric, who was being entertained by a freed slave.  “You have saved Emric once.  I will abide by your wishes.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian.  “I hope that I am wrong and can apologize to you later.”

The ride was smooth, quick, and free of incident.  People dressed in their finest clothing moved through town towards the arena.

Ilmarė craned her neck to look up at Cal. “Are you bringing that thing?” 

“What?” asked Cal.  “Oh, you mean the axe?  Yes. Why?”

“Because it scares people,” said Ilmarė.

“HE scares people,” said Kham.  “Leave him alone.” He patted the scabbard on his hip. “I have to carry Fleshripper anyway.”

“Why?” asked Cal.

“Because Fleshripper won’t have it any other way,” he replied ruefully.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 7a: The Barge*



> _CASSILDA: The city had four singularities.  The first singularity was that it appeared overnight.  The second singularity was that one could not tell whether the city sat upon the waters, or beyond them on the invisible other shore.  The third singularity was that when the moon rose, the towers of the city appeared to be behind it, not in front of it._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



They arrived at the dock to behold a wondrous sight.  Moored at the dock was a barge like they had never seen.  The decks were all polished wood, artistically carved handrails, posts and columns.  A cotton canopy, brightly dyed in a variety of colors, covered nearly a third of the vast deck.  Six marble couches, piled high with pillows and cushions, were nestled beneath the canopy.  Beside each couch was a table with a bowl of fruit and a glass of wine.  A slave stood near each couch with a large fan of ostrich feathers.  A dozen black oars jutted out from the lower decks.

Beldin and Sebastian exchanged glances.  They knew well that the slave demons of Ymandragore powered the black-sailed ships.  Surely, Gaius used regular slaves?

“Welcome!” shouted Gaius, leaning over the rail.  “Welcome to my ship.  Come aboard, watch your step my friends.  Come now, we have a whole evening of feasting, entertainment and excitement planned.”  He was well-dressed, as always, with his trademark smile.

The slaves carried them onto the barge to the couches. In no time, they were moving slowly up the Corvis River.  The musical trio who performed at breakfast began singing and playing.  They were treated to a view of olive orchards and prosperous farms amid the Coryan countryside.

Sebastian stepped over to Gaius. “What powers this ship?”

“Hmm?  Slaves, of course,” he replied.

“You mean human slaves,” said Beldin, joining them.

“Yes, of course!” Gaius snapped back.  “I am no Ymandrake.”

“Of course,” said Sebastian.  “We meant no insult.”

Gaius’ ready smile returned.  “None taken. I choose my slaves very carefully.  There are no demons down there, I can assure you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be below decks.  Please enjoy the first act, Coelius the Magician!”

“I am…COELIUS THE MAGICIAN!” boomed a bearded man in robes and a turban.  He snapped his fingers and flames danced about.

Sebastian snorted.  “Simple pyrotechnics,” he muttered to Beldin.

Suddenly, the barge lurched.  There was the sound of timber groaning and snapping.  The ship twisted in the water, as if snagged upon something, and the craft shuddered.

A few moments later, Gaius arrived from below deck.

“My friends,” he began, “we’ve had a bit of trouble below decks.  It seems our clumsy pilot has steered onto some rocks near shore and knocked a small hole in our hull. There is no danger, none at all, but we must stop to make repairs.”

Ilmarė squinted at Gaius. “Something’s wrong.”

“Our captain knows a flat field just around the next river bend where we can stop.  We shall simply move the dinner and show onto the shore. I promise you will hardly notice the interruption.  To apologize for this embarrassment, your stay at Ravulus will be extended an additional day, without charge of course.”

Sebastian leaned over to Ilmarė.  “What is it?”

“Blood,” said Ilmarė.  “On the bottom of Gaius’ tunic.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 7b: The Barge*



> _CASSILDA: Misfortunate prince.  Well then, the fourth singularity was that as soon as one looked upon the city, one knew what its name was.
> 
> CHILD: Carcosa._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act One​



The crew of the barge skillfully grounded the vessel onto shore.  In moments, a small army of slaves and servants poured out from below deck.  They were all helped onto the riverbank and led to the nearby field.

“Gaius,” said Ilmarė, “there’s something you’re not telling us.”

Gaius blinked.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s start with the blood on your tunic,” said Sebastian.

Gaius’ smile dissipated into a snarl.  “Keep your voices low!”  He pulled both of them away from the crowd.  His men were hastily erecting a pavilion tent in the field. “One of our largest slaves went mad,” said Gaius, regaining his composure.  “He knocked the crewman manning the tiller unconscious and then steered the barge onto the rocks.”

Gaius’ men moved the heavy couches inside the pavilion tent.

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Why didn’t someone stop him?”  

“I told you,” said Gaius, his voice dripping with contempt, “he was very large.  Panicked crewmembers tried to stop him, but he would not release the tiller.  I had to bludgeon him to death with a crock pot.”

Torches were set along the path between the tent and the barge. 

“Can it be repaired?” asked Ilmarė.

“Yes,” said Gaius, “but only the simplest patch job.  It will be enough to get back to town tonight, but the ship will need more serious repairs in the coming days.  I knew I shouldn’t have bought that slave from the arena. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” The smile returned and Gaius spread his arms wide towards the magician. “Coelius will now perform feats of wonder that will astound and amaze!”

Ilmarė and Sebastian returned to their couches to consume the first course of bread and soup.

“You seem quiet,” Sebastian said to Kham. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Kham said, his eyes on the magician.  He had just spewed a gout of flames into the air. 

“You saw the tendrils on the token move like I did, didn’t you?” 

Kham took a long gulp of wine.  “Maybe I did.” He turned to bark at a slave.  “More wine!”

The second course was an appetizer of boiled crab and raw vegetables. Dives and his trained dog performed tricks and a comedy routine.  Muffin was a small black and white dog with a curled tail. Bijoux was not amused. 

“Why can’t you get rid of Fleshripper?” Cal asked Kham. 

“Because I can’t.  I’ve tried.”

“Ever just try dropping it?” the big lizard said.

Kham rolled his eyes.  “I’ve tried to sell it.  I’ve tried to break it.  I’ve tried to lose it.  Fleshripper won’t…let me.”

“I could always take it from you,” said Cal, extending one long pointed claw to point at the sword.

“Not without killing me,” he said.  “Until Elabac figures out how to remove this curse, I’m stuck with the damned thing. More wine!”

Sebastian folded his gloved hands before him. “At least your demons can be put away,” he said.  

Beautiful twin Altherian dancers performed next.  The third course was oysters and vegetables.

Gaius leaned over to whisper to Kham. “The dancers can be sent to your room for the night,” he said.  “It would only be a small additional fee of, let’s say, eight hundred Imperials?  Have we a deal?”

Kham took another gulp of wine.  “Absolutely.  It will be paid in full in my account back at Ravulus.  But you should send them to my friend Sebastian,” he nodded towards Sebastian, who sat engrossed in the display.  “He needs them more than me.”

“Deal,” said Gaius.  “I will collect the first four hundred Imperials when we return.” He turned back to the audience.  “And now, for the final stage of our entertainment this evening, a pair of gladiators will do battle!  Would you like an armed or unarmed combat?”

“Armed!” shouted Ilmarė with uncharacteristic vigor.

Gaius grinned at her.  “The Elorii wishes to see blood.  Will it be to the death then!”

“Yes!” Ilmarė shouted as Sebastian shouted “No!”

“That will be an additional six hundred Imperials,” said Gaius.

“Oh. Never mind then,” said Ilmarė.  “I don’t put that high a price on human suffering.”

As the gladiators did battle, the final course was served: chilled berries with cream and honeyed pastries. By the time dessert and the gladiators were finished, all was ready.  The camp was struck, and everyone and everything was moved back onboard.  The barge set off for Vestalanium.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 8: The Whispers Become Screams*



> _NOATALBA (pointing): Look, look!  Carcosa—Carcosa is on fire!_
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



The smell of smoke was the first thing they all noticed.  To the south, Vestalanium was illuminated by a strange orange glow that lit the night sky.  The barge sailed slowly towards a turn in the river, around a set of hills that blocked all view of the town.  The decks slowly filled with people looking south.

Bijoux sniffed the air.  Her ears flattened against her head. “The taint! I can smell it on the wind!”

“I hear screams,” said Cal. 

The wind shifted, carrying with it a sound out over the water: a long, shrill scream.  The sounds became louder and more frequent as the barge slowly drifted further down driver.

Rounding the bend in the river they could see that much of Vestalanium was in flames.  Boats moored at the docks were afire.  People ran everywhere, some with torches, others with makeshift weapons.  Screams filled the night air and bloodstains covered the white marble of many buildings.

“Illiir have mercy!” shouted Beldin.

The town was gripped in madness.  A woman jumped to her death off of a rooftop. An old man doused himself in lamp oil, and then leaped onto a burning cart.  A howling gang armed with knives rushed after a handful of fleeing women and children.  Death was everywhere.

“Turn her about!” Gaius shouted to the crew.  “We are not landing.  Take us back up river, NOW!”

“Good riddance,” said Ilmarė. “I didn’t like that town anyway.”

Sebastian had one hand over his mouth in a silent scream.  “The villa,” he half-whispered. “I told Thralen to stay there with Emric…”

“They are in pain,” said Bijoux. “We must save what who we can.” And with that, she leaped onto the rail and launched herself into the air.  She easily cleared the thirty feet from the barge to the shore.

“Pull us closer!” shouted Kham. 

“Are you insane?” Gaius shouted back. “I’m not bringing us anywhere near there!”

“Pull us closer,” Kham said, his hand moving towards the hilt of Fleshripper, “or I will steer this boat myself.”

Several of Gaius’ crewmembers stepped up behind him, clubs in hand. “I don’t think…” His eyes widened.

Behind Kham, Cal was gripping his massive bearded axe.  “Do it,” he said.  “The dwarf can’t jump very far.”

Gaius gave the command and the barge drifted close enough for them to close the gap.  As soon as they cleared the distance, the barge floated away.  

“We’re a half mile outside of Vestalanium,” said Bijoux, sniffing the wind.  

“We must get to Ravulus,” said Sebastian.  “The boy is my responsibility.”

“That’s two miles away from the villa,” said Bijoux. “Our path will not be easy.”

“Screw the kid, I want my pistols back!” shouted Kham.  “Do you have any idea how much the ladies are worth?”

And with that, he jogged off into the town.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 9: Hope is Lost!*



> _THE KING: Hencefore, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known.  And war between the masked men and the naked shall be perpetual and bloody, until I come again….or fail to come._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



There were several three- and four-story buildings on the block, none of which were yet on fire.  At least two-dozen people had already leaped from the rooftops or hung themselves out of the upper story windows.

“Steel yourselves,” said Beldin, a dagger in his hand.  “We have to cross that.”

Between them was a sea of shattered and moaning bodies.

Kham was already ahead of them.  Someone reached out and grabbed his ankle.

“Let go of me!” he shouted.  When the woman refused to relinquish her grip, Kham drew Fleshripper. “This is your last warning!” His eyes were wild.  “Let go of me or—“

“Kham!” said Sebastian.  “No!”

With a roar, Kham gripped Fleshripper with both hands and hacked downward.  He struck again and again with an inhuman shriek.  The death grip on his ankle was finally released.

“Kham…?” asked Ilmarė.

The Val was shuddering with rage.  His lenses were off, such that they could see the whites that served as his pupils.  

A well-dressed man stood on the edge of a nearby rooftop.  “All hope is lost!” he screamed. Then he leaped to his death, crashing through a cart full of grapes.

The spectacle caused Kham to shriek at the top of his lungs. Then he turned and ran further into Vestalanium.

“We’d better catch him,” said Beldin, “before he kills again.”  

“Where is he headed?” asked Bijoux.

Sebastian's features were a grim mask of determination.  “Ravulus.  We’ve got to get to the villa before he does.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 10: We Have Seen Him!*



> _ALL: No!  Mercy! Not upon us!
> 
> THE KING: Yhtill! Yhtill! Yhtill!_
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



A crowd of crazed men and women rushed around the street corner, howling like animals.  They were all armed, injured, and bloody.

“We have seen him!” the mob shouted over and over.  “We have seen him!”

They hit Kham first.

Fleshripper’s whisper was a pounding, insistent command in his head.

_“The war between the masked men and the naked shall be perpetual and bloody!” _ it said.  _“Kill them all!”_

Kham cut them down like wheat before a sickle.  

_“Yhtill.”_

A former guard stumbled backwards, his small gladius useless against Fleshripper’s superior reach.

_“Yhtill!”_

A barmaid fell, gurgling from her slit throat.  

_“YHTILL!”_

An old man, limping on his good leg, had it hacked out from beneath him.  

Fleshripper was judge, jury and executioner, and all who dared cross its path paid the price.

Over and over, Kham focused on retrieving the only things that mattered to him: his pistols. They were all just getting in his way. 

Somewhere deep inside, Kham wept.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 11: He is Here!*



> _THE KING: Henceforth, Hastur and Alar will be divided forever.  Forever shalt thou contend for mastery, and strive in bitter blood to claim which shall be uppermost: flesh or phantom, black or white.
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​_



A group of men and women pitched torches into a doorway as the building slowly began to catch on fire.  They had piled broken chairs and tables just inside the building.  

“Kham’s gone mad!” shouted Sebastian.

On the other side of the street were four people with brushes and ladders painting a huge yellow sign upon the side of a  building.  Each of them also had the Yellow Sign painted on their tunics and togas.  

“Cal, you’re in front.  Beldin, take the back,” commanded Ilmarė. “Everyone else stay in the middle.”

They were almost clear of the street when a screaming man rushed out in front of them.

Cal advanced, but Ilmarė put out one hand to stop him.  

The man was naked and covered in cuts and gashes.  Blood ran off of him and a layer of broken glass clung to his flesh. 

Bijoux stepped forward.  “Are you…” she spotted a bed of broken bottles, carefully prepared, covered in blood. Beside the pile was the man’s carefully folded toga and discarded sandals. “Hurt?”

The man ran away, screaming, “He is here! He is here!”

Bijoux crouched to pursue.

Ilmarė grabbed her wrist.  “Let him go.”

“But he will die,” Bijoux said, her slitted pupils focused on the man’s retreating back as he zigzagged through the street.

“He’s dead already,” said Ilmarė. “We need to focus on the living.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 12: Give Us Your Children!*



> _THE KING: But think: Already you own the world.  The great query is, Can you rule it?  The query is the gift.  The King in Yellow gives it into your hands, to hold…or to let loose. Choose, terrible children._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



They had finally reached the hills where the more well appointed villas were located.  They arrived just in time to witness a crowd of crazed townspeople battering down the barricaded door to a villa.  Servants threw out furniture from the second floor windows onto the mob, in a vain attempt to drive them away. It was clear that the mob would overcome the barricade in minutes.

“Stop them!” shouted Ilmarė.

The mob was armed with many torches.  Most of them had gathered around a wagon filled with barrels of lamp oil.

“Give us your children and they shall be spared!” shouted the crowd. 

Cal thudded towards the crowd with his axe.  He slammed one aside with the flat of the blade, then two more to his right.

“Get that oil away from the torches!” shouted Sebastian.

Beldin rolled underneath the wagon and, with his back to the wall, pushed against the wagon with his feet.  The wagon creaked but barely moved.

An older man screamed, “The Last King demands your children!”  Then he lit himself ablaze.

The flailing conflagration stumbled towards…

“The wagon!” shouted Ilmarė.  “Stop him Cal!”

The big lizard turned, but it was too late.  The man threw himself onto the cart.  In seconds, it would explode.

There were pleas from the people inside.  The cries of children.

Cal bellowed an ear-splitting roar, louder than the screams and the crackling of the flames. His earflaps stood straight up.

“Not him too!” said Sebastian.  “If we lose Cal…”

“Cal has not gone crazy,” said Bijoux.  She watched with careful interest.  “He’s just angry.”

Cal seemed to puff up another full foot.  His claws extended as he pounded towards the smoldering wagon. With a mighty heave, the Ss’ressen grabbed the front of the wagon and lifted it over his head.  He spun, his dilated eyes scanning the terrain for a place where it would be safe to throw it.

“No,” said Beldin through gritted teeth. “He’ll never get away in time!”

“I don’t think he plans to get away,” said Ilmarė. 

With the wagon nearly on his back, Cal strained towards open ground.  He almost made it.

The explosion was powerful enough to knock the sane and insane to the ground. Bits of flaming debris showered down around them.

And at the center of the wreckage, a blackened form lay still.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 13a: The Screams Become Silence*



> _THE KING: Until then, Carcosa will vanish; but my rule, I tell you now, is permanent, despite Aldebaran. Be warned.  _
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Inside the villa were a wealthy couple, their six children, and more than a dozen servants and slaves.  They were all sane and unharmed.

“Will he survive?” asked the woman of the house.

Cal was a blackened shell of himself.  His scales were scarred and flaking.  The great chest rose and fell in slow, shuddering gasps.

“He’ll live,” said Bijoux.  “Onara heals her children.”

“He does this all the time,” said Ilmarė. 

“What happened here?” asked Sebastian.

“We saw the first fires just after dark,” said the male owner.  “Then we started hearing the screams.  We closed the gates and barred the doors, but it wasn’t enough. The mobs came into the hills, storming villa after villa.  They were looking for children! We hid them, we did, and we tried to stop the mob but there was just too many of them.  They dragged them out of the hiding place and outside to the woman.”

“The woman?” asked Ilmarė.

“She was tall and thin, dressed in white robes.  On her breast was a large pendant with that sign, the yellow one from the play.  She wore a pale mask and rode in upon a horse like some fiend.  When the children were gathered before her she talked to them for a few minutes, and then blew a conch horn.”

“That’s when the monster appeared!” said one of the slaves.

“Monster?” asked Sebastian.

“It dropped out of the sky like a hawk.  It was like a cursed union of bat and man, with horns like a ram.  The thing grabbed the children and flew off into the night.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Beldin.  “We’ve got to get to our equipment, fast.”

“We could hear the woman saying one of them might be chosen by the Nameless King for a great honor and that they were being taken to him for judgment.  Then she rode off towards the arena.”

“We’ll need horses,” said Ilmarė.

“Done,” said the man of the house.  “We can spare two horses, the rest we’ll need to leave town ourselves.  They’re yours.”

“That’s not enough,” said Beldin.

Cal slowly rose to his feet.  The soot flaked off of him as Bijoux’s healing magic took hold.

“No horse will allow me to ride it,” said Sebastian. He looked Cal up and down.  “It’s enough.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 13b: The Screams Become Silence*



> _THE KING: Thou wert promised a Dynasty by Truth, and in truth shalt thou have a dynasty.  The kingdom of Hastur was first in all the world, and would have ruled the world, except for this: Carcosa did not want it._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Ilmarė arrived at Ravulus first.  The villa was ransacked.  

She climbed two steps at a time to the second floor, to their rooms. The Elorii caught a glimpse of someone hacking down a door.

BLAM!

Ilmarė knew the telltale sound.  It was the sound of one of Kham’s pistols firing.

Kham fell backwards into the doorway.  The shot had gone wide, glancing off his shoulder.  His pupiless eyes started, his face twisted into a hideous snarl.  Then he bounded back into the room with Fleshripper raised high.

“Kham, Thralen!  Stop it!” shouted Ilmarė.

Thralen, his back against a dresser, drew another of Kham’s pistols.  He rolled to the side just as Fleshripper hacked a furrow of splinters into the dresser.  

“Drop the pistols!” shouted Ilmarė

“Are you mad, woman? He’s trying to kill me!” 

Thralen took careful aim at Kham’s head.  This time he would not miss.

The Val lifted Fleshripper over his head…

“Radius Incensio!”

A gout of flames from Sebastian’s outstretched hand blasted Kham sideways. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Thralen kept two of Kham’s pistols trained on his prone form. “Easy,” said Ilmarė, lowering his arms by pushing down on the pistol barrels.  “He went a little mad.  Osalian knows he had good reason to.”

All energy drained out of Thralen then.  He dropped the pistols.  “They took Emric.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 14: To the Arena*



> _THE KING: Also be promised: He who triumphs in this war shall be my—can I be honest?—inheritor, and so shall have the Dynasty back._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



As they rode along the western road out of the hills, there was a scream of terror. It came from above, out of the inky night sky.

Ilmarė pointed upwards. “There!” 

Emric flew through the air, flailing frantically.  He cried out for help. 

But then it became clear that he was not moving of his own accord.  He was being carried.

Matching the night with its midnight black fur was a creature that could only be the thing the servants described at the villa.  With huge wings, long claws and curved ram’s horns, the creature stared down at them all.  It tilted its head, its eyes filled with intelligence and curiosity as it quietly flapped its wings.

Bijoux launched herself into the air, claws outstretched.

She almost snagged Emric’s pant leg.  But then the thing flew higher.  It vanished from sight into the night.

“No!” shouted Bijoux as the updrafts failed her.  She glided back to join the others. “I almost had him,” she sobbed. “I almost had him.”

“We saved him once,” said Ilmarė.  “We will save him again.” 

“I will not lose him!” said Bijoux, her delicate features filled with determination.  She took a running leap and glided off ahead of them.

“Let’s go,” said Beldin, “before we have another Kham on our hands.” He clucked his horse into a trot.

Kham rode up the rear, his pistols all in their proper place and arrayed in his usual overcoat.  Fleshripper was strapped across his back.

“Whoever this King is,” said Kham, “he’s about to experience a coup.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 15: The Arena*



> _THE KING: Hence, thereafter, Hastur and Alar divided; but those in Alar sent you from Aldebaran the Phantom of Truth and all was lost; together, you forgot the Covenant of the Sign.  Now there is much which needs to be undone._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



A strange quiet had fallen over the ruins of Vestalanium.  From their vantage point on the road, they could see that the fires were starting to burn themselves out.  Few people moved along the streets, with only the occasional howl sounding a human presence.  

The road eventually led to a large circular stone building; the arena.  There was debris and blood everywhere, as well as a scattering of slowly cooling corpses.  The gates remained open.  Above them hung an enormous banner.

It read, “Adventus Regis,” and the three-armed symbol of the king seemed to glow in the darkness.  Flags and banners still fluttered in the night wind.

Bijoux was perched on top of the banner, peering down into the arena.  “It flew into the arena,” she said.  “Emric’s in there somewhere.”

They dismounted their horses and cautiously entered a scene of utter carnage.

The inside of the arena was deserted.  Blood, debris and scattered bodies littered the place.  It was obvious a riot had broken out.  Graffiti was scattered her and there, mostly written in blood.  “The Last King,” and “Carcosa is now!” were common.

“I’m going to scope out the arena,” said Kham.  And with that, he vaulted over the edge of the arena wall into the lamp-lit pit. Many of the thousand lamps set up all around the arena were still list, filling it with shadows. 

There were many dead.  Everywhere, they littered the benches.  The air was thick with the stench of spilled blood.  

The majority of the bodies wore the uniforms of the city guard.  More than a few of them had thrown themselves on their swords, while others must have turned upon each other or on the crowd.

Sebastian pulled out a scroll.  “I don’t like the looks of this.  I’m going to scout ahead.”  He read from the scroll and whispered, “invisus.”  Then he disappeared.

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  She unshouldered her bow. “Well I’ll guess the rest of us will provide a distraction.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 16: The Stage Upon the Sands*



> _THE KING: In due course of starwheels, this strife will come to issue; but not now; oh, no, not now._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Down in the center of what was usually the chariot course was a stage.  It was untouched. The stage was set with the furniture of a throne room.  Numerous figures, all dressed in strange costume, lay dead.  

“They look like rag dolls,” said Kham, kneeling down to inspect one of the corpses.  “No wounds.  The entire cast is dead.”

If it were not for the looks of sorrow and terror frozen on their faces, they could have been asleep. 

Something landed behind him.  It was heavy.

“Cal?”

Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of the lamplight, there flopped rhythmically a hybrid, winged thing that no sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly remember. It was not altogether crow, nor mole, nor buzzard, nor ant, nor vampire bat, nor decomposed human being; but something Kham’s mind recoiled at the mere sight. It flopped limply along, half with its webbed feet and half with its membranous wings.

Then it came for Kham. He could barely make it out, but he could feel its presence.  He put his pistols back in their holsters.

“You don’t deserve to be shot,” said Kham.  “I’m going to take you apart.”  He drew Fleshripper and his scimitar.  “Slowly.”

And then Kham faced down the darkness.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 17a: The Senator’s Box*



> _THE KING: Hastur, you acceded to, and wore, the Pallid Mask.  That is the price.  Henceforth, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Cloaked by his magic, Sebastian crept to the senator’s box.  Two skillfully worked columns flanked a stout open door.  The seal of Coryan was carved onto it surface.  Upon the seal was painted the triscalion symbol of the strange King, his yellow sign.  The paint still appeared wet and glowing, almost pulsing as if it were alive. A single red rose hung above the seal, secured to the door.

Sebastian slipped through the open doorway.

Inside, a short, heavyset man and a tall, beautiful woman knelt on the floor. They were well dressed, in robes of white embroidered with the yellow sign.  Pale masks lay beside them on the carpet.  A third man, Livius Carbo, was seated at a desk beside a large padded settee, busily writing.  His hand moved quickly, making notes and corrections, glancing towards the couch as if waiting further instructions.  All three appeared in rapture.

Draped over the couch was the dead body of the local prefect, Octavius.  But something horrible had happened to it.  It oozed and flowed over the settee, one foot spilling onto the carpets.  It appeared boneless and unnatural, like an octopus hauled onto the deck of a fishing boat.  

Although he did not fully understand what was happening, Sebastian knew that the book Livius was writing in must have been very important.  It didn’t take him long to decide what to do.  It was a spell he had used before, dumping a chamber pot on an overzealous thug.

“Magis attrecto!”

The book flew out from underneath Livius’ quill and spiraled into the darkness of the arena.  It landed with a light plop.

With a shriek of horror, Livius dove after it, right off the balcony onto the soft sand.  

Slowly, the eyes set into drooping sockets turned towards Sebastian, focusing on him despite his invisibility.  The tongue twitched as it wheezed.  It drew breath into itself and spoke in a groaning, deep voice.  “It seems we are interrupted.  Welcome to my court.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 17b: The Senator’s Box*



> _THE KING: The Phantom of Truth shall be laid.  The scalloped tatters of the King must hide Yhtill forever.  _
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Sebastian backed out of the room as quickly as he could.  It had seen him.  He wasn’t sure how, but the unnatural thing’s eyeballs had turned to focus on him.  He suppressed a chill.

Colia Thalna, the tall beautiful courtesan, strode out of the chamber.  “Where are you hiding?” she snarled.

Dulius Decula, a fat man dressed in a fine toga, followed behind her. Both had wavy-bladed knives out.  

But there was no sanctuary for Sebastian.  On the other side of the stands was another of the massive beasts, an insane amalgamation of vermin, corpse, and reptile.  It slithered and snapped, first at Cal, then at Beldin.

Bijoux whirled her sling overhead, but Cal put out his arm.  “Back!” he hissed.  “Too dangerous!”

Ilmarė sang, firing arrows into the thing even as she mouthed each note. “O môr henion i dhû.” She sang of the darkness, and how she understood the night.

Colia, witnessing the combat, closed her eyes and lifted her arms. “Iä! Iä! Hastur!” she chanted.

Ilmarė’s head snapped around to look at the new threat.  Colia’s words were guttural, awful, offensive.  It didn’t seem possible that the sounds could come from within a human form.

“Ely siriar, êl síla.” Ilmarė sang of dreams, and shining stars. 

Colia chanted louder. “Hastur cf’ayak ‘vulgtmm, vulgtmm, vulgtmm! Ai!” 

“Ai! Aníron Aldebaran.” sang Ilmarė.  She spoke of the desire for the star to return.

“Ai! Hastur!” Colia chanted back.

“Stop that blasphemy! Osalian take your breath for speaking such words,” said Ilmarė. “Dîn!”

And suddenly, Colia couldn’t say anything at all.  

Sebastian panicked as he realized Dulius was looking right at him.  He charged, knife raised, even though no sound came out of his mouth.  It was all he could do to draw his own dagger.  They struggled in silence.

Dulius slashed downwards, tearing Sebastian’s robes.  He twisted away from the fat man and blindly stabbed outwards.  He felt something warm splash on him as Dulius recoiled.  Sebastian’s panicked strike had found its mark, but the man was so fat that it barely penetrated.

A huge maw bit downwards, tearing the seats apart in great stone chunks.  Beldin rolled to the side and struck at the outstretched head.

But it was too fast.  A paw batted at Cal, snapping him sideways into the arena.  Then another pinned Beldin between its claws.  Only the space between the seats saved him from being crushed to death.

It reared back its head, preparing to chew Beldin’s head off.  

There was a loud CRACK!

Then the thing collapsed, rolling over and over until it flopped, dead, into the arena.

Ilmarė looked from Bijoux to the monster’s corpse in shock.  “Did you do that?”

“Duck!” said Bijoux.  Ilmarė ducked.

Dulius stood over Sebastian, both hands on the hilt of his blade, poised for the final blow.  A red blot appeared on his forehead as Bijoux’s second sling stone found its mark.  His fat corpse fell on top of Sebastian.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Ilmarė said to Bijoux.


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 17c: The Senator’s Box*



> _ALL: No!  No, no!
> 
> THE KING: And as for thee, we tell thee this; it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living god._
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Kham landed with a thud.  The wind was knocked out of him from the blow, but he was still alive, and that was something.

He looked up from the dirt to see Livius Carbo staring back at him.  Between them lay a book emblazoned with the Yellow Sign.

They both dove for it.  Livius grabbed it first and kept running.

“Oh no you don’t!” shouted Kham, rising to his feet to pursue.  But the winged thing landed between them. Kham lost sight of Livius after that.

Cal landed next on his feet next to Kham in the arena.  The great head of the beast snaked back and forth, choosing a target.  

“Hey!” shouted Kham.  “Over here you big ugly bastard!” 

“But Kham--” began Cal.

“I’ll keep it distracted!” said Kham.  “Kill that thing in the senator’s box.” When Cal didn’t move, he shouted again.  “Go!”

Kham’s command spurred Cal into action.  He bounded across the arena and hurled himself towards the balcony.  The Ss’ressen’s powerful legs propelled him halfway up the arena wall.  He dug in his powerful claws and climbed, scaling it foot by foot. 

Cal cleared the rim. He scrambled up into the senator’s box, axe in hand. There was nothing there but a drippy corpse.

The liquid eyes turned to focus on him.  As their gazes locked, Cal’s mind recoiled in horror…

Suddenly, he was engulfed in darkness. It was only when Cal felt the King envelop him in his cold soft grasp that he cried out and struggled with deadly fury, but his hands were useless.  Cal felt as if he had been struck full in the face. Then, as he fell, Cal heard Kham’s cry and even while falling he longed to follow him, for he knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only Yig to cry now.

Cal collapsed into the arena, unmoving. Behind him, Kham raised seared eyes to the fathomless glare of the King. 

And then Kham saw the black stars hanging in the heavens, and the wet winds from the Lake of Hali chilled his face.  And then, far away, over leagues of tossing cloud-waves, he saw the moon dripping with spray; and beyond, the towers of Carcosa rose behind the moon. 

Then Kham heard the voice, rising, swelling, thundering through the flaring light, and as he fell, the radiance increased, increased, poured over him in waves of flame. Then he sank into the depths, and he heard the King in Yellow whispering to his soul: 

_"It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living god!"_


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Part 17d: The Senator’s Box*



> _THE KING: YOU thank ME?  I am the living god!  Bethink thyself, priest.  There is a price, I have not as yet stated the half of it. _
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



Things were getting desperate.  Cal had fallen from the ledge of the senator’s box onto his back, unmoving. Kham had collapsed next to him.  And the beast in the arena advanced.

Ilmarė touched the amulet at her throat.  She loathed using it, but it was their last chance.  It was a thing of rage.  She prayed to Osalian that she would not lose her mind as Kham did to Fleshripper.

The amulet pulsed around her throat and her limbs felt fantastically strong.  She drew her bow again.  The first to die would be the whore.

Ilmarė turned and fired two arrows with lightning speed into the silenced Colia.  She fell without a sound.

Then she turned to the thing in arena.  Arrow after arrow flew from her bow.  It turned and hissed, leaping into the air to close the distance.

But Ilmarė’s rage was unabated.  Her arm drew arrow after arrow and each time Ilmarė fired, she found her mark. Before the thing could scrabble onto the seats, six arrows jutted from its face.  It screeched and fell backwards, collapsing onto its dead brother.  Then it too, lay still.

She whirled, another arrow knocked, aimed at Beldin’s head. Someone was shouting something.

“Ilmarė!” said Sebastian.  “Stop! It’s us!”

“Forever shalt thou contend for mastery and strive in bitter blood,” said a voice in her head.

“No!” shouted Ilmarė.  She threw her bow to the ground.

Just then, the first rays of the sun pierced the leaden sky. The Aldebaran star sank below the horizon.  The corpse that was once the prefect Octavius turned into a thick oozing and foul-smelling slime.  And just as quickly as he had come, the King in Yellow returned to Carcosa.

Bijoux came up from the depths of the arena with a boy in her arms.  “I found Emric,” she said.  “And forty-one other children.”


----------



## talien

*Adventus Regis - Conclusion*



> _CHILD: I am not the Prologue, nor the Afterword; call me the Prototaph.  My role is this: to tell you it is now too late to close the book or quit the theatre.  You already thought you should have done so earlier, but you stayed.  How harmless it all is!  No definite principles are involved, no doctrines promulgated in these pristine pages, no convictions outraged…but the blow has fallen, and now it is too late. _
> 
> --The King in Yellow: Act Two​



“Some of the children were returned to their families,” said Quintus, standing with his battle standard in full regalia.  “There are many orphans.”

“What about the rest?” asked Sebastian.  “Some of the citizens ran off into the hills.”

Quintus nodded.  “My legion is cleaning up the area.  We’ll be hunting down roving bands of murderers and lunatics for weeks.”

Beldin looked out at the smoking ruin that was once the town.  “There’s almost nothing left.”

“And that’s how it will stay,” said Quintus.  “We have orders that Vestalanium is to never be rebuilt.”  

Behind him, they could see soldiers knocking down structures with hooked fire poles.  Other soldiers heaped piles of timber.  But it wasn’t just timber.  Arms and hands jutted from beneath the pile as well.

Ilmarė stood and held herself, staring at the wreckage that had been a town hours before.  

Quintus took a hesitant step towards her.  “I must apologize.  I had no idea…”

 “How could you know?” she said. “The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign was planning this for weeks.”

Quintus put one hand on Ilmarė’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he said softly. “For you.” He turned to look at the others.  “What of the rest of you?”

“We will survive,” Sebastian said with a weak smile.  “The politics of Solanos Mor seem a lot more appealing these days.” Beldin grunted in agreement.

“I like Freeport better,” said Cal.  

“What of Emric val’Ossan?” asked Quintus.

“Emric saw things that would snap a child’s mind like a twig,” said Bijoux. “But he grew up under…different circumstances.  He is resilient. He will survive.  The others were not all so lucky.”

“I have my own unfinished business,” said Quintus.  “Gaius Phillipus was my friend.  He abandoned his duties at a time when Vestalanium needed him most.” His eyes narrowed with smoldering rage.  “I’m going to personally bring him to justice.”

“You’re quiet, Kham,” said Sebastian. 

Kham took another swig from yet another bottle of wine.  “I’ll get over it,” he said in a voice hoarse from screaming. He threw the bottle into yet another pile of debris.  “There’s just one thing that bugs me.”

“What’s that?” asked Quintus.

“Livius Carbo was once a great playwright.  He escaped on the back of one of those things.”

“We’ll find him,” Quintus said confidently.

“Sure you will,” said Kham.  “But he was taking notes from that…thing in the senator’s box.  What was he writing?”

“We did find this,” said Quintus.  He unrolled a piece of parchment from his belt pouch and held it up. 

It read: “The King in Yellow.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 18: Grains of Sand - Introduction*

This is the second hard point in year 2 of the Living Arcanis campaign, written by Brian Schoner and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Robert Taylor (http://www.storyboardz.net) 
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human cleric) played by Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)

Grains of Sand is one of those adventures where if you make an innocent mistake like say, chase one set of bad guys instead of waiting for hours for another set to show up, you can really botch the adventure.  Fortunately, Rob’s a great DM and knows when to kick us in the butt to keep the action moving.  He also confined the action to one room, keeping the adventure from bogging down into a slow dungeon crawl.

The group has come a long way since the early adventures.  Now, Ilmarė fires arrows with the intent of disrupting spellcasters, Quintus memorizes spells to assist his companions, and Kham actually uses a feint tactic to sneak attack with his pistols.  They’re all starting to act like a mid-level party (levels range from 4 through 7) and our tactics are beginning to gel.  Nevertheless, Quintus soundly got whupped when the Big Nasty Thing From Beyond Space showed up.

This is another adventure that I moved out of the order of play (we played it after finishing the Freeport trilogy) for two reasons: it makes a great introduction for Jarel the Encali dwarf and also gets Quintus his farmland.  Additionally, the last time we saw Quintus, he was tortured for three weeks by cultists of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.  That kind of treatment will change a man, and it’s here that we see Quintus begin to have a change of heart about his allegiance to the Empire.

To say that, “Quintus nearly bought the farm” is a terrible pun, but it’s quite accurate too.  Not his proudest moment, but Quintus has other things on his mind besides killing for once.  He’s thinking about settling down, and a farm seems like a great way to start.  If he ever survives the legion, that is.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Prologue*

Coryan’s cities were too often places of intrigue and danger, where the poor were oppressed while the wealthy play their deadly games of power with one another.  It was rare, and thus welcome, to find a city in the great Empire in which the citizens seemed to be at peace with one another.  Manteii, nestled at the eastern edge of the forest known as the Golden Boughs of Saluwe, seemed to be just such a city. 

Quintus and Ilmarė walked along its pleasant streets, beneath the shade of trees whose leave were showing their autumn colors.

“You seem fond of this place,” said the elorii, looking at her human companion sideways.

Quintus nodded.  “If a man were to retire in Coryan, he could do far worse than this pleasant and peaceful place.”

They had come to Manteii for the popular harvest festival.  After several days of wonderful food, excellent wine, and extremely pleasant hospitality, the festival had more than lived up to its reputation. 

“Why Quintus,” said Ilmarė with mock surprise, “you surely can’t be contemplating retirement so soon in your career?”

“I never said that,” Quintus said quickly.  “But recent experiences have made me think about the future.”  His rigid legionnaire’s posture sagged a bit.  “Besides, it’s not that soon in my career.  I have not advanced in the legion’s ranks for some time.”

“That’s no fault of yours,” said Ilmarė.  “If it weren’t for Flavius’ constant machinations against you, you’d be High General by now.”

Quintus snorted.  “Nevertheless, I must be realistic.  I had dreams of a farm once.  A place I could call home.”  

Ilmarė stopped in front of a villa.  “Taking on more mercenary work for Gratian val’Holryn seems like an odd way to achieve that dream,” she said.  

“Don’t be so sure,” said Quintus.  “If all goes well, I will send for you and the others back at the Bounty of Saluwe.” And with that, he walked into the atrium of val’Holryn’s villa.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 1: Setting the Trap*

At last, a servant escorted Quintus to a small meeting room off the atrium, where he was provided with flavorful wine and fresh, delicious apples. The legionnaire seated himself on one of the many pillows scattered throughout the room.  

After a few moments, a pale, blond-haired val of perhaps fifty years limped into the room. He seemed healthy enough, but one foot was bent at an odd angle as he walked.

“Don’t get up,” he said as he slowly lowered himself onto one of the pillows.  “I am Gratian val’Holryn.” He poured a small glass of wine for himself, looking Quintus over as he did so.  “I’m not certain how much you know about the situation here.”

“I know that several caravans of grain and other foodstuffs, bound for Abessios, have been attacked and their cargos stolen,” said Quintus.  “But not much more than that.”

“Over the past two weeks, three grains caravans were robbed on the road east of Manteii, on the edge of the Forsaken Wastes.  Apparently, a group of hobgoblins—or possibly orcs, the survivors aren’t entirely sure—ambushed the caravans and demanded the wagons and their cargo as tribute.”

“That cannot be allowed to continue,” said Quintus.  “You were wise to contact me.”

“That is not the only reason I contacted you,” said Gratian.  “You have a reputation for…circumventing government bureaucracy.  You’ve finished tasks that entire legions took months to complete.”

Quintus’ brow furrowed. “Go on.”

“Legionnaires from governor val’Dellenov in Panari are on their way.  But in the meantime, I need someone who can find out where the wagons and grain are being taken.  The legionnaires can handle the problem at its source once they arrive.”

“I find it hard to believe hobgoblins could take on a well-armed caravan,” said Quintus.

“The first caravan was very lightly guarded, since the road was historically very safe.  The hobgoblins had archers up on ridges to either side of the caravan, plus a few individuals on foot in front of the lead wagons.  The workers were outnumbered and surprised, so they surrendered their cargo without a fight, and thankfully no one was injured.”

“And the second caravan?”

“As the caravan members were walking back to Manteii, they encountered my caravan and warned them about the attack.  They didn’t return for more guards, since my caravan master though the hobgoblins wouldn’t mount a second attack so soon.” Graitan’s faced twisted into a grimace.  “He paid for his error with his life. He tried to make a break for it in the lead wagon, and was shot full of arrows for his trouble.  The rest of the caravan surrendered in short order. That brings me to another reason why you were recommended for this mission.”

“Recommended?” asked Quintus.

Gratian ordered his servants out of the room.  As the door closed, his face grew serious.  “I have ties to a certain organization, one which I believe you support as well.”  He folded back a part of his toga to reveal a small pin in the shape of a hawk perched upon a shield. “In addition to the grain, the second caravan contained several important items that were being delivered to a Sanctorum in Abessios.  That is why Otho, the caravan master, died in the second ambush; he was trying to ensure that the delivery made it through, whatever the cost.”

“And this delivery is…”

“I cannot say,” said Gratian.  “There is a hidden compartment bolted to the bottom of one of the wagons, the one with the hubs of its wheels painted blue.” He pulled a key from a chain around his neck and handed it to Quintus. “This key will unlock the compartment. Inside is a small, sealed box.  Do not, under any circumstances, break the seal or open the box.”

Quintus stood up.  “I will retrieve this item for the Sanctorum.  I swear upon it.”

“I knew you would,” said Gratian with a slight smile.  “I have a few items here that should help you recover the box safely.  He handed Quintus a potion.  “This will render you invisible and also difficult to hear. It will last roughly half an hour, so use the time wisely.  And in case you are spotted, I also have this.”  

Gratian pulled out a small copper medallion on a leather thong.  When he placed it around his neck, it instantly became a necklace of brilliant gold, with three golden spheres hanging from it.  “If you detach one of these spheres and hurl it, it will explode into a ball of fire wherever it lands.  The smaller two should do enough damage to kill most hobgoblins, while the larger one is significantly more powerful.”  Gratian removed the necklace, which immediately reverted to its plain appearance, and handed it to Quintus.  

Quintus took the necklace. “Now in return, I must ask something of you.”

“I’ve pooled my resources with the other affected merchants,” said Gratian, anticipating his question.  “We’ll give you each fifty imperials just to begin the investigation.  If you can find out where the wagons have been taken, it’s worth a hundred more apiece.  We can also loan you horses if you don’t have any.”

“I’m sure my companions will take the gold,” said Quintus. “But I do not seek treasure.  I wish to own land.”

“Ah,” said Gratian.  “Farmland.”

Quintus nodded.

”That will take some doing.  The Five Families do not easily let those into their ranks, Quintus. They’ve been managing the grain trade for generations on behalf of the val’Dellenovs.  Any house that solves this problem will certainly look good.”  

Quintus’ steadfast gaze did not waiver.  After a moment, Gratian sighed.  “I will do my best, but I can make no guarantees.  Discovering the source of the problem will certainly go a long way towards securing a grant of land in any case.”

Quintus shook his hand.  “Then we have a deal,” he said.  

 “I have assembled a decoy caravan, a small number of wagons carrying sacks full of sawdust rather than grain,” said Gratian. “It will be leaving town tomorrow morning, and I expect that the caravan will be robbed as the others have been.  I have instructed my employees to surrender without a fight.  Follow the caravan at a discreet distance and see where the hobgoblins take the grain after capturing it.  Then return here and report to me.”

Gratian struggled again to his feet, and this time Quintus rose at the same time.  He escorted Quintus to the door, where a servant was waiting to user him out.

“Just out of my own curiosity,” said Gratian, “why farmland, exactly?”

“I’ve my own crops to grow,” said Quintus.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 2: Caravan Duty*

The predawn air was crisp as they find their way to the eastern gate of Manteii, where the caravan was forming up for travel.  A dozen or so large wagons, drawn by four draft horses each, were laden with sacks of “grain.”

Vlad had switched to studded leather instead of his usual plate, a concession to the brutal heat of the Forsaken Wastes. “They look nervous,” he said.

In sharp contrast to the smiling faces they saw elsewhere in Manteii, the men and women of the caravan appeared grim.

“Certainly understandable,” said Beldin.  Most of the caravan members wore some sort of makeshift armor and many carried weapons.  All of their equipment looked as if it’d been in an attic for decades.

A balding, pale-faced man wearing worn leather walked down the row of wagons, tossing fresh handfuls of grain into the back of each one.  

”What are you doing?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Masks the smell of sawdust,” said Varus, the caravan master.  He dusted his hand off before offering it to Quintus to shake.  “I hope this plan of Master Gratian’s works.  I’ve seen what those hobgoblins can do to a man when they have a mind to, and I wouldn’t want to see what happens if they figure out they’ve been tricked.”

Quintus offered little comfort.  His eyes were scanning past him. “You’ll be fine,” he said.  “Where’s Kham?”

A swaying figure answered Quintus’ question.  “Oh, hi guysh,” said Kham. 

“Kham,” said Quintus, “are you ready to go?”

“Ready for what?” asked Kham.  He looked around in confusion. 

“You didn’t get my note? I left it at the inn.”  

Beldin slapped his forehead.  “Drunk again.”

“The Bounty of Shaluwe?” asked Kham. “Oh, I haven’t been back there shince yeshterday. The grain wine they’ve got here ish the besht!”

“Figures,” said Ilmarė.  “We’ve got an extra horse for you, but I suppose you won’t be needing it.”

Kham drunkenly waved off the sentiment, gesturing in the wrong direction.  “Oh, no, no, no.  I’m fine.  Here, shee?  I can ride a horshe…” He stumbled up onto the mount.  After the third try, he managed to drape himself over the saddle.

Varus tried to not look at Kham, but ended up staring at him the entire time he conversed with Quintus.  “I’ll give you a signal when we start getting near the area where we were ambushed the last time. I’ll take my hat off and fan myself with it; how does that sound?”

Quintus nodded.  “That will do.  We’ll stay back far enough so we shouldn’t be easily spotted, but close enough to keep you in view.”

“I sure hope this works,” said Varus.  He looked away from Kham.

Kham looked up from his saddle, his bloodshot eyes concealed by his lenses.  “Don’t worry, we’re professhionalsh.”  Then he sank back into unconsciousness as the caravan left the safety of Manteii.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 3: Well, It’s About Time…*

By the third day of travel, the green hills of Balantica had given way to the rocky badlands of Abessios.  The Forsaken Wastes were a pale blanket to the north of the road and the constant hot wind blowing from that direction was gritty with sand and heavy with the smell of salt. The road wound among weathered rock formations and through rugged valleys.

“Perfect terrain for an ambush,” said Vlad.

Ilmarė shielded her eyes.  “Varus agrees with you.  He just gave the signal.”

“Get ready,” said Quintus.  

About ten minutes later, the caravan ground to a halt.  They couldn’t see anything beyond the caravan due to the wagons and the dust, but a loud voice echoed back down the canyon, shouting in broken Low Coryani.  “You stop!  This Salt Devil land.  You no bring wagons here!  We keep wagons and horses.  You leave or you die!”

“So articulate,” said Ilmarė.  

As he spoke, a multitude of hobgoblin archers appeared on the ridges to either side of the caravan.  There were perhaps two-dozen hobgoblins on each ridge, each with an arrow nocked and ready to fire. 

Kham lifted his pistols, one in each hand.  “So…what are we waiting for?”

The caravan workers began to get down from their wagons. 

“We have to follow where they take the caravan,” said Quintus.  “So long as they do not harm them, we can afford to wait.”

The caravan workers left the wagons and started walking back towards Manteii, unmolested by the hobgoblins.  Then the entire caravan disappeared in a globe of blackness.

“Whoa,” said Vlad.  “Maybe we should investigate.”

Quintus put one hand out.  “Hold.”

Led by the hobgoblins, the caravan slowly rode out of the canyon and into the Forsaken Wastes. 

“Now we follow,” said Quintus.

Ilmarė’s companions didn’t notice her grimace as she clucked her mount further into the boundaries of the Wastes.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 4a: The Road to Nowhere*

As the caravan workers made their slow way back to Manteii on foot, they turned northwards, away from the road and into the Forsaken Wastes.  It was clear how the land got its name: the ground was baked dry where it was not covered with sand, and no hint of grass or water was visible anywhere.  

“Feel like we’ve been traveling through a sea of long-dried tears,” said Kham, wiping his brow.

The smell of salt hung heavy in the air. It was not the fresh smell of the ocean, but a stale tang that mixed with the sand and the oppressive heat.

“That’s because you haven’t been keeping yourself hydrated,” said Quintus.  “Legionnaires traverse terrain a thousand times worse than this every day.”

“Which is why I’m not a legionnaire,” said Kham.  He dabbed at his forehead again.  “All we’ve been looking at for days is hills and sand, sand and hills.  I say we just kill the hobgoblins and be done with it.”

“The hobgoblins seem to have a clear destination in mind,” said Beldin.  

They had set a brisk pace across the Wastes.  Despite the rough terrain, they were following a route that was sufficiently wide, flat and level for the horses and wagons to travel without undue difficulty.  

“Even the hobgoblins have better sense than us.” Khan nodded towards Beldin, who wore studded leather armor like Vlad.  “They know when to get out of their armor.”

Once they were out of sight of the road, the hobgoblins made a brief stop to take off their armor, an understandable decision given the broiling heat of the Wastes.

“Ilmarė,” said Quintus, “you’ve been quiet.  Are you all right?”

Ilmarė’s features were pale and drawn.  “It’s not the heat.  It’s this place.”

“This place?” asked Vlad.

Kham had a handkerchief over his head, but it did little good.  “This is where our gods killed their gods.” He licked his crusted lips. “But don’t be fooled…it’s the heat.”

Then Ilmarė slipped off of her mount to the ground.

“Ilmarė!” shouted Quintus.  He nearly leaped off his mount to be at her side.  Fortunately, she had landed on the soft sand. “She’s not sweating,” he said, panic in his voice.  

“Get away from me,” whispered Ilmarė.  She pushed weakly at him with open palms.  

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” said Quintus.  “You’re suffering from heatstroke.”

“I will not…” she shivered as if a cold wind had blown through her, even though she was in the midst of stifling heat, “be healed by a false god…on sacred land…”

Quintus put his hands on her forehead and whispered a prayer.  The flush from Ilmarė’s cheeks dissipated and her breathing steadied.  She closed her eyes. 

“She will survive,” said Quintus with a sigh of relief. 

“How about me?” asked Kham.  “My god won the battle here and I still feel like my brain is on fire.”  He took another swig from his wineskin.

“That’s because you’re dehydrated,” said Quintus.  “Stop drinking wine!”

“This isn’t wine,” said Kham, “it’s…oh wait, it is wine.  It’s so weak it tastes like water to me.”

“Fine,” said Quintus.  “Let Illiir decide.”  He put both hands up in Kham’s direction and whispered another prayer.

Kham blinked.  “I don’t feel any different.”

“Then Illiir, for reasons I will never understand, sees fit to keep your drunken carcass alive for another day.” Quintus lifted Ilmarė back onto her mount and strapped her feet into the stirrups.  She was barely conscious, but aware enough that she could sit upright.  “You should be grateful.”

“Grateful?” said Kham with a sneer. “Althares gifts us with knowledge.  If Illiir was such a merciful god, you’d think he’d dim the sun a bit.”

Quintus chuckled.  With a shake of his head, he led Ilmarė’s mount on foot. 

“What’s so funny?” asked Vlad.

“Quintus is laughing,” said Beldin, “because Illiir IS the sun.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 4b: The Road to Nowhere*

After dark, the hobgoblins made a brief stop to wear their armor.  Then they pressed on.

“It’s been four hours,” said Ilmarė.  “If they don’t do something with this caravan soon I’m just going to shoot one of them.”

The hobgoblins led the wagons between yet another set of massive stone outcroppings, into a large flat area that was bounded by a rough ring of rocky pillars.  They led the wagons into a circle.

“Well,” said Quintus, “it looks like they’re going to make camp for the night.” 

After a few minutes of drinking water and resting by the wagons, the hobgoblins set off again.  With hardly a backward glance, they headed eastward into the darkening desert—sans wagons, horses, and cargo.  

“Should we follow?” asked Vlad.

“I’m not sure,” said Quintus.  “Perhaps we can track them…”

Left alone and unguarded in the middle of the moonlit Wastes, the horses whinnied softly to one another as the hobgoblins hiked off into the desert.

“The shifting sands will cover their tracks,” said Beldin.  “We will never find them.”

Kham wheeled his mount around.  “Look. I didn’t travel all the way out here just to attack those things now.  They left the wagons in this stone circle for a reason.  I say we wait.”

Quintus was about to say when Ilmarė pointed.  “There!”

A face peered out from one of the stone columns above them.  It appeared to be a man, looking down from inside the rock itself through a small and previously unseen hole, perhaps thirty feet above the desert.

“Down!” hissed Quintus.

“Did he see us?” asked Vlad.

Suddenly, a human voice echoed through the still night air from somewhere above: “KHABAT MERAH APESH!”

There was a faint rumbling.  The ground vibrated as the sand in the center of the stone circle began to shift, as though something huge and ancient was stirring beneath the earth.

“That’d be a no,” said Kham.  

After a moment, a huge shape began to emerge from beneath the sands.  Twenty feet wide and a hundred feet long, it jutted up from beneath the sands at an angle, like some ancient serpent rising to wakefulness after centuries of sleep.  The horses stared stupidly at it, but did not run.

“That’s our signal,” said Quintus.  “I’m going in.”  He popped the cork off a vial.

“Where did you get that?” asked Kham.  He looked at the others.  “Who let Quintus play with potions?  Only I’m allowed to do that.”

Finally, after rising some twenty feet at its highest point, the shape stopped. 

“It’s a stone lid,” said Beldin.  The lid was a huge, rectangular box of yellowed stone, carved with worn glyphs and ancient runes.

At one end of the box, a massive set of double doors swung soundlessly open.  A group of perfectly ordinary looking humans emerged from it.  Fifteen in number, they moved directly toward the wagons.  Behind them gaped the torch lit entrance to a stone corridor, sloping down below the sands.

“This is my mission,” said Quintus, “so I will investigate it personally. I won’t risk all of you going in without some intelligence as to what’s inside.” Then he swigged the potion and faded from sight.

“Yeah, real stealthy.” Kham pulled a potion from his coat.  “I can still see your footprints in the sand, Quintus.”  He drank his own potion and disappeared. 

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  “Now we’ve got two idiots running around in there.  I guess that leaves…” she looked for the dwarf and the Milandisian, but they were already sneaking towards the opening.

Ilmarė rubbed her temples.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 4c: The Road to Nowhere*

Several of the workers went immediately to the horses, giving them small amounts of food and water and checking their hooves for stones.  Two others checked the back of each wagon and soon found the pay chest, which they hauled out and laid on the ground.  

“Oof!  This is a heavy one,” said the younger of the two.  “You sure we can’t just keep a bit of it?”

“Bite your tongue lad,” said the older of the two.  “This will keep the hobgoblins doing our work for us.  Or would you rather take the blame for this yourself?  We’ll be well rewarded soon enough…in the meantime, keep your mouth shut.”

“That goes for you too, Alban,” said a third man who checked the horses on a nearby wagon. “Less talk and more work.  The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’re out of this blasted wasteland.”

In short order, the horses were all checked and the newcomers boarded the wagons.  They drove them into the massive stone tunnel and down into the desert below.

Once again, the voice echoed from above, “KABAT MERAH SHUUL!”

The stone doors at the end of the newly revealed passage swung soundlessly shut and the entire structured groaned as it began to sink once more beneath the sands.  In less than a minute, there was no sign that the passageway, or indeed the wagons, was ever there.

Inside, Kham whispered to Quintus.  “I’ve heard of this place.”

“Kham?” Quintus whispered back.  “Is that you?”

“You’re new to this whole stealth thing aren’t you?” asked Kham.  “Yes it’s me.  Doesn’t it sound like me?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Yeah I can’t see you either.  But I can see your footprints.  Try to avoid stepping too heavily in the dust.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Listen, this place…I remember it from the legends of Matesh.  It’s a hidden Myrantian fortress that controlled the lands around the Wastes over two thousand years ago.  Enemies never took the fortress because they could never find it.  Nobody believed it even existed anymore.  I thought it was a myth…until now.”

“Very interesting,” said Quintus.  “We’re looking for a particular wagon with blue wheels.  It will have a secret compartment beneath it.  Inside is a box. We must find that wagon.”

“Why?”

“Because I require the box.  That’s all you need to know.” 

“Oh really.”  Kham felt Quintus’ hand on his shoulder.

“Kham, this is very important.  You must not, under any circumstances, open that box.  Do you understand me?”

Kham pulled away from him. “Yeah, yeah,” his voice came from beyond a wall to Quintus’ left. “Don’t open the box.”  

“Kham? You’re inside a wall.”

“That’d be an illusion,” said Kham.  “If you bothered to use your eyes, you’d notice there’s no dust on the wall.  It’s fake. You can walk right through it.” There was the sound of thumb on metal. A coin flipped through the air and appeared at the border of the wall, glistening in the sand between illusion and reality. “Hopefully, the elf will notice the coin when she comes through.”

“Speaking of which,” said Quintus, “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to get out of here.”

“Me neither,” said Kham.  “But it might interest you to know that I just found a room full of wagons.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 5a: Castle in the Sand*

“Khabat merah apesh,” said Ilmarė.

The great stone lid slowly ground up again.  

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” said Beldin.  “They’re going to hear the walls open.”

“You two don’t seem to have any better ideas,” said Ilmarė.  “So this is how we’re going in.  It’s been long enough that they should be away from the entryway by now.”

She darted down towards the opening.  Vlad shrugged at Beldin and followed after her.

Sand crunched underfoot in the long stone corridor.  Its cracked walls and floors were covered with yellowed Myrantian hieroglyphs.

“Kabat merah shuul,” said Ilmarė.  The opening began to close.

Beldin huffed in behind them just as the doors shut.  

“I thought you’d never make it,” said Ilmarė with a bemused smirk.

“And miss this?” asked Beldin.  He pointed at the wall. “You’ll need a dwarf’s eye if you’re going to survive this place.  It looks as if those hieroglyphs were designed to ward off invaders from the fortress.”

Vlad froze in mid-step.  “Uh…”

“Don’t worry,” said the dwarf.  “They no longer have any magical power.”

The walls, floor and ceiling of the passage changed from the yellowed Myrantian hieroglyphs to strange tiled square containing an unsettling carved image of a many-tentacled creature resembling a starfish.

“Something feels wrong,” said Ilmarė.  

When they were a ways in, the stone tiles began to hum and glow a pale violet color.  

“A dwarf’s eye, huh?” Ilmarė shot Beldin a glare.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 5b: Castle in the Sand*

The walls and ceiling of the massive room were plain and unornamented, but the sheer size of the place made such decoration unnecessary.  Several dozen grain wagons were lined up in neat rows along the walls, with enough space for many more.  There were no horses hitched to the wagons.

“Oh, man…” said Kham.	

Quintus understood what the val meant.  Every one of the wagons, except for the most recently acquired caravan, had blue wagon wheels.

A woman dressed in leather with a scimitar at her hip conversed with a man dressed in lorica segmentata.  Two men, twins from the look of them, stood idly off to one side.  A fifth man dressed in spiked chainmail stood at an exit to another room, overseeing the unloading of the wagons.  

Quintus and Kham, incapable of seeing each other, padded off in different directions. 

The new wagon was taken off down a different corridor, while horses were unhitched and taken away towards the man in chainmail.

Kham darted from wagon to wagon, his fingers playing over the sandy planks of wood that made up the bottom of each of the wagons.  He rapped on each one, listening carefully to the sound.

Finally, he hit something that sounded hollow.  Kham dove underneath the wagon and discovered a small lock.  He pulled out his trusty dagger and twisted the pommel, releasing a series of lock picks. A few seconds later, and the panel slid back to reveal a small box of carved gray stone.

Kham pulled the box out and scrabbled to his feet.  It was roughly eight inches on a side and weighed maybe five pounds.  Its lid was sealed with reddish-brown wax on all sides and the wax itself was incised with arcane marks.  

“Hey Quintus!” whispered Kham to nowhere in particular.  “I think I found…” he locked gazes with the man in spike chainmail, “…it. Uh oh.”

“What do you mean uh oh?” whispered Quintus.  “Give me the box.”

“I can’t see you,” said Kham out of the side of his mouth.  He slowly reached for another potion in his coat.  “But I think someone can see me.”

“INTRUDER!” shouted the man at the top of the lungs.

“Yep,” Kham swigged another invisibility potion. “He saw me.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 5c: Castle in the Sand*

“No help for it now,” said Quintus to no one in particular, but possibly to Kham if he were nearby, invisible.  He grabbed one of the globes from the necklace around his neck and hurled it at the cluster of enemies.

The ensuing explosion rocked the cavernous room.  Several of the wagons caught on fire.  

“Whoa,” came Kham’s voice from behind Quintus, scaring the daylights out of him.  “I want one of those!”

“You can’t have it,” said Quintus.  “Now give me the box.”

“In a minute,” said Kham.

Quintus’ reply was cut off as a vertical column of fire roared down around him.  

Kham spun to spot the source, but he wasn’t looking at their opponents at the time.  The man in spiked chainmail was shouting and waving on the workers into another room. Each time some of the workers passed behind him, a ring on his left hand would flash and the workers disappeared, gated to some unknown destination.

Kham decided he was a likely candidate.

BLAM! BLAM!

The man stumbled backwards as two pistol blasts struck him in the chest. He shouted, “Keep going!” over his shoulder and then turned back to face the now visible Kham.

The twins were at the center of the Quintus’ blast were relatively unharmed.  They spread out, gladiuses at the ready, just in time to meet the charge of Vlad and Beldin.

The large man dressed in lorica segmentata immediately ran off down another hallway.  

The woman whistled.  “Soma!” she shouted.  “Come!”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all,” said Ilmarė

Unlike Kham, she saw who had unleashed hell on Quintus.  It was not the man in spiked chainmail at all, but actually the woman who, Ilmarė guessed, had just called to something big and ugly.

“There’ll be no more whistling,” said Ilmarė. “Dîn!” 

Then all became silent.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 5d: Castle in the Sand*

Quintus was still trying to put out the flames around him when he suddenly couldn’t hear his own heartbeat.  He saw something metallic flash out of the corner of his eye and ducked just in time to avoid being beheaded by a scimitar.

Quintus drew his own gladius.  He parried blow after blow, but it took all his concentration.  For one, he had only recently put out the flames on his tunic.  For another, he couldn’t hear a thing.  He was fighting in utter silence.  

The legionnaire thrust his gladius at the woman’s head, but she batted it away with a wooden shield.  She was dressed in leather armor—no match for Quintus’ lorica segmentata, but flexible enough to give her a slight advantage.  Judging from her clumsy blows, she wasn’t a trained warrior.

If only he had his scutum and signum!  He would never have let her get so close.

The silence meant no prayers to Illiir. So then, bare steel was how they would finish their quarrel.

Quintus caught the sight of a great striped cat leap with all four claws onto Vlad’s shield.  It nearly bowled the big Milandisian over.  It was all he could do to keep it at bay.

The distraction almost cost Quintus his life.  He twisted just as the scimitar silently thunked into the wooden wagon near his head.  He would have to pay more attention.

Quintus made the woman pay for her bold attack with a series of wide swings.  Her wooden shield easily blocked the attacks, as he intended.  The gladius wasn’t meant for large gashes.  It was a stabbing blade, and Quintus knew how to use it.

Behind her, Vlad and Beldin made short work of their opponents.  Ilmarė’s arrows stuck out of several of them.  

Quintus pressed the attack, forcing the woman to raise her shield up again and again. The shield was heavy, even a wooden one.  Her upper body strength was no match for his.  It was only a matter of time.

He waited. One of her shield blocks was a bit lower than the first.  Quintus kept up the brutal pace, hacking away at her shield with steady, measured blows.  His hand was starting to numb, but he was sure his opponent could barely feel her arm.

Then he saw it: her shield arm faltered from exhaustion.  He stepped into her reach.  

The scimitar’s wide slashing motion was halfway completed, but Quintus was too close and his aim too practiced.  With a practiced stab, he shoved the gladius through her throat.

She fell to the ground in a silent gurgle. With her death, the magical cone of silence dissipated. 

“—OOOOOOOOOOOOO!” screamed the man in spiked chainmail as he watched the woman die at Quintus’ hands.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 5e: Castle in the Sand*

Vlad threw the tiger off of him and incapacitated it with one fast stab to the abdomen.  The beast wailed until Vlad put it out of its misery.

Beldin hurled an axe down the hallway towards a fleeing man.  Judging from the dwarf’s satisfied expression and the subsequent yelp, Kham guessed he hadn’t gotten far.

Kham clucked his tongue as his opponent screeched in horror at whatever it was he just witnessed.  Kham didn’t know what happened, but guessed it had something to do with Quintus.  Which wasn’t that surprising, as Quintus tended to have that effect on people.

Kham lined up the shot.  It was too easy.

BLAM! BLAM!

And just like that, it was over.  

“Well, that’s a first.” Kham began picking up one of his emptied pistols.  “I unloaded all five of the ladies at one target. He was a tough one.”

“I think I heard someone crying for help down the hallway,” said Beldin.  “I’m going to go check it out.”

“I’ll go with him,” said Ilmarė.  She nocked another arrow and followed after the dwarf.

Vlad kicked over one of the twin’s corpses. “They’re well-equipped for mercenaries.”  

“Too well-equipped.” Kham took a copper ring carved in the shape of two clasped hands off of the man’s body.  The clasped hands held the symbol of a black cat. “I think we just killed some legionnaires, Quintus.”

Quintus didn’t respond.

“Quintus?  The elf’s silence wore off.”

Quintus was on his knees, staring at the corpse of the woman he had slain.

Kham walked over to Quintus.  “What’s wrong?”

“They’re not legionnaires,” said Quintus.  “Legionnaires can’t marry.”

“What’s your point?”

Quintus gingerly held the dead woman’s hand in his, almost as if he were proposing. On her second finger of her left hand was a similar copper ring, carved in the shape of two clasped hands holding the symbol of a black cat.

“This is a wedding ring,” said Quintus.  He slowly turned to look at the dead man, his spiked armor still smoking from Kham’s shots. “I just killed that man’s wife.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 6: Enter Jarel*

As the door swung open, a black-bearded dwarf looked up.  He was manacled to the rear wall, but still had an aura of dignity about himself.  

“And just who are you, now?”

Beldin peered curiously at the middle-aged dwarf.  “Encali, hmm?  I’m Beldin Soulforge of Solanos Mor.  What are you doing here?”

“I am Jarel of Encali.”  He wiggled one of his manacled hands.  “I don’t suppose you can help me out of this?”

Beldin grunted. Then he lifted his axe overhead.

To Jarel’s credit, he didn’t flinch when an axe blow came down on each manacle, severing them neatly without harming the dwarf’s wrists. 

“Thanks.” Jarel stroked one plait of his forked beard. “I’m a jeweler by trade.  I was captured by House Otrecto to craft magic rings for them.”

“Magic rings?” asked Ilmarė, stepping in behind Beldin.  “What kind of magic rings?”

“A few months ago, I was contacted by a Coryani family, and shown a very old, strange ring.  It was Myrantian in design and obviously enchanted; it looked like it was created to activate some particular magical effect.  Calvus wanted me to make more rings that would activate the same effect, but only for members of his family.”

“His family, hmm?” asked Beldin.  “What family?”

“House Otrecto,” said Jarel.  “I told Calvus I’d do it—he certainly offered to pay well enough–but that I’d have to see whatever the ring was intended to activate, so I could match the dweomers properly on the new ring.  He wasn’t happy about that, but he agreed, and once I had the new ring almost completed, he brought me here.”

“You didn’t get suspicious?” asked Ilmarė.

Jarel shrugged.  “It was a tedious trip, but I’m not comfortable with the outdoors so I stayed inside my wagon.  They were all very secretive about it too.”

“We saw Calvus use the ring to transport people away,” said Beldin.

“That’s right,” said Jarel.  “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.  It’s vaguely similar to a portal of Anshar in some ways, though not nearly as powerful.  Once I saw the room they used to transport people, I was able to complete the ring in a day or so.”

“And this is how they repay you?” asked Ilmarė.

“I turned the ring over, expecting to collect my pay and go home.” Jarel nodded at the broken shackles on the ground. “That was the thanks I got. I don’t know what they were up to, but they were almost apologetic about the whole thing.  Calvus promised that I could go home soon and that he’d pay me extra for my troubles.  Not that I really believed a word of it, mind you, but they fed me and kept me alive, so that’s something at least.”

“Well, let’s get you out of here,” said Beldin.  “I’ve seen enough of this place to know that I don’t like it.”

“Agreed.” Jarel hesitated.  “I assume you’ve freed the girl too?”

“Who?” Ilmarė arched an eyebrow. It was obvious the room was empty.

“It’s…hard to explain.  You’ll have to see her to understand what I mean.  If she’s still alive, that is.  Follow me.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 7: The Well of Visions*

The small circular chamber was covered in handwritten verses, scrawled by a mad hand.  Sheets of paper lay strewn upon the floor, in some places inches thick, covered in the same rushed script.  

“What the…” said Beldin.  A sheet of paper floated down from above.

Above them was a young woman, her head cast back, swirling high around the chamber.  She was writing madly upon a sheaf of paper, stopping only long enough to rip off one sheet to scribble on the next.  

“That’s her,” said Jarel.  “They don’t like to talk about her much, but I think she’s a Larissan priestess.” 

Beldin reached for the girl.

“Wait,” Jarel’s hand grabbed Beldin’s shoulder.  “Can you feel the energy in the room?  She’s trapped.  She’s been doing this for weeks, without food or water.  Sometimes they throw writing materials in.” 

“But not ink,” said Ilmarė.  The woman was dipping the stylus into her arm.  Both forearms were a mottled mess of fresh bruises.  

“We can’t just leave her here,” said Beldin. 

Jarel shook his head.  “She’s already dead.  Whatever that well is doing to her, it won’t release her.  I’ve seen men try to drag her out and they were fried on the spot. It’ll take powerful magic, magic I don’t think you have.”

Beldin bent down to pick up some of the paper that had been strewn on the ground. “What’s she writing?”

“Good question,” said Ilmarė.  She picked up a piece of paper and read aloud:
“One million grains of sand can wear away a diamond.
The cat plays with the bird until it is ready to pounce.
One thousand years is not forever.
When the sword sows only bones, the scythe reaps only blood.
One whisper in the silence can shake the pillars of heaven.”

Beldin was still focused on the girl.  “Perhaps if we throw a rope around her…”

Suddenly, the walls around them rumbled.  Rocks and dust rained down around them. It was followed by intermittent, wet sounds of something heavy heaving and lurching through the halls.

Ilmarė and Beldin exchanged worried glances.  Then they sprinted off to join their companions.


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Part 8: The Spawn of Tizzhet*

Writhing purple tentacles with no discernable body strained and struggled to drag a bloated mass into the room. 

Kham gaped in the midst of bending down to pick up his last pistol. It was an eldritch horror the subject of nightmares.  The purple tentacles, slick with slime and marbled with red veins, pulsed and writhed as the creature pulled its bulk towards it prey with terrifying speed.

“Kham, look out!”

Quintus slammed Kham out of the way just as a tentacle lashed out, arrayed with triple rows of suction cups.  It wrapped around Quintus’ legs with terrifying strength.

Quintus hacked at the thing, but another tentacle shot out and grabbed him by the head.  “Use the neck—“ was all he got out before slime foamed over his mouth.  The thing lifted Quintus up like a rag doll and dangled him overhead.

“A Spawn of Tizzhet!” Beldin skidded into the room. “It must have been awakened by the glowing tiles!”

“Spawn of whozit?” asked Kham.

“Tizzhet of the Many Limbs, an ancient being from the far realms,” said Ilmarė.  She fired two arrows into it, but they melted and smoked in the acidic flesh of the thing.

“How do we stop it?” asked Vlad.

Kham dove to the side as more greedy tentacles grasped for him.  What was it Quintus was trying to tell him?  Use the neck what?

Upside down, Quintus’ flesh was seared red from the acid where the tentacles were gnawing away at him.  Smoke spiraled from where it touched his armor.  And Kham had made fun of him for wearing his lorica segmentata in the desert. It sharply contrasted with the necklace he attacked the…

The necklace!

Kham hopped over another tentacle swipe and snatched the necklace off of Quintus’ throat. It came apart easily, weakened by the acid from the Spawn’s tentacles. Two globes were left.  They would have to do.

He tore both globes from the necklace and hurled them into the hulking starfish-like monstrosity. With frightening speed, two tentacles snatched them out of the air.

Kham dove to the ground and put his hands over his ears.  “Everyone down!”

By now, his companions knew better than to question Kham warning of an impending explosion.  Vlad and Beldin hunkered down behind their shields. Ilmarė stood behind them, biting her lip.

There was a small flash inside the Spawn.  A shockwave rippled through its body, causing all the tentacles to grotesquely shudder.  Some acid seeped from its many mouths. 

The second explosion was much larger.  A bright yellow and red blast, muted by the body of the Spawn, ballooned inside of it for a split second—then it burst free, spewing gibbets of purple and red gore in every direction.  

Ilmarė ran over to Quintus. He lay in a heap of smoking flesh.  The elorii placed both hands upon him. A whispered plea to the spirits of the air, and Quintus’ eyes fluttered open.

Kham wandered over, having finally found his last pistol in the mess. “He okay?” 

“He’ll live,” Ilmarė sad softly. She wiped some ichor away from Quintus’ face, which was covered in red splotches.  

“Oh yeah.”  Kham dug out the box from his coat and tossed it onto Quintus’ chest.  “Here’s the box you were looking for.”


----------



## talien

*Grains of Sand - Conclusion*

Quintus matched Gratian’s slow and painful descent to the pillows strewn about the atrium. 

“Where are the legionnaires?” asked Quintus.

“They still have not arrived,” said Gratian.  “But I am confident they will be here any day now.  What have you discovered?”

“We found the underground fortress,” said Quintus.  His face was puckered and scarred from the Spawn’s attack.  “We managed to clear it out.  The wagons are there for your retrieval, although some of them were…damaged.”

“I see.  And you’re sure it was House Otrecto?”

“Yes. Here’s your proof.” Quintus flipped one of the rings he had found to Gratian.  “You can identify the bodies when the legionnaires arrive.”

“I sent watchmen to the office of the Otrecto representatives here after I received your note, but there was no one to be found.  It looked like they left in a hurry.”

“I’m sure they did,” said Quintus. 

“Well, House Otrecto’s involvement is treasonous.  You’ll be happy to know that the val’Dellenovs stripped them of their lands and titles.  Several ranking members of House Otrecto were executed or imprisoned.”

“I take no pleasure in their misery,” said Quintus.  He looked tired. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Gratian placed a rolled up scroll with the val’Dellenov seal on it before Quintus. “Governor Elana val’Dellenov of Panari assigned you a tract of Otrecto’s seized lands.  You now have your farmland.”  He pushed a small chest forward.  “I assume the imperials will satisfy the rest of your companions.”

Quintus took both without comment. 

“And finally…did you find the box?”

“I did,” said Quintus.  He placed the box down and slid it towards Gratian across the floor.

Gratian smiled and carefully picked up the box.  He didn’t say anything else. 

Quintus started to rise when Gratian interrupted him. “It’s amazing that a house would stoop to banditry to undermine its competitors.”

The legionnaire, slowly, painfully rose to his feet.  “It was not simple banditry.”

“Oh?” asked Gratian.  “What other motive could they have for stealing grain?”

“An army travels on its stomach.”  Quintus turned his back on Gratian.  He paused at the exit.  “They were preparing for war.”

“War?  That’s ridiculous.”  Quintus could feel Gratian’s gaze burning into his back.  “What war?”

“Let’s hope we never find out,” said Quintus.  Then he limped out of the val’s home.


----------



## Azgulor

Wow.  Just wanted to say what a great story hour you've got here.  I haven't started the Grains of Sand chapters yet, but I had to chime in after reading the _King in Yellow_  story.  Great mix of creepy horror culminating in a climactic battle.

Great stuff!

Azgulor


----------



## talien

Hi Azgulor!

Thank you for the compliment.  I know there must be many lurkers out there who read the story hour, what with it getting over 200 hits every time I post, but it's nice to hear that someone's reading it. 

This King in Yellow thread is actually a major campaign arc.  I didn't plan it that way -- the main bad guy was genuinely meant to be killed, but circumstances allowed him to escape...and an entire campaign was born out of it.  The next few adventures are a bit of a divergence, delving into the backgrounds of Beldin and Kham.  Then the King in Yellow thread will resume in Chapter 23.  Stay tuned and thanks for reading!


----------



## talien

*Chapter 19: As Gray and Cold as Stone - Introduction*

This adventure is hard point 1 in Year 2 of the tournament module, "As Gray and Cold as Stone," written by Brian Schoner, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Quintus Aurelius Ignatius (human cleric) played by Michael Tresca
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 

Robert Taylor was Dungeon Master for this session: http://www.storyboardz.net 

I’ve gotten accustomed to having a fighter around, be it Cal the crazy barbarian, Beldin the stalwart dwarf, or Vlad the meat shield.  We didn’t have any of those guys this game, which means Quintus was supposed to be the fighter type guy.  Unfortunately, I didn’t shift my spells to reflect that change. When push comes to shove, Quintus gets his butt kicked all over the place.

On the other hand, the one time a fight does happen is when none of us are prepared for it.  Quintus is effective in armor hiding behind a shield with a longspear.  Not in a nightshirt with a gladius. 

There’s a lah-HA-HA-ot of talking in this adventure.  The politics bored Kham considerably.  Fortunately, he got to shine by completely screwing up.  You’re surprised, I know.

By far the highlight of this adventure is when the Emperor notices Quintus.  As Ilmarė put it: “We’ll never hear the end of this.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Prologue*

Ilmarė lifted a flower from one of the trees on Quintus’ estate.  The citron tree was only about ten-feet in height. It had intensely green foliage and long, well-concealed thorns to defend the fruit. Oval in shape and yellowish-green when ripe, the fruit was rough-skinned and highly perfumed.

“I’ve never smelled something so pleasant,” said Ilmarė.  “What do you call it?”

“Citron,” said Quintus.  He was carefully pruning another tree.  “My slaves have make all kinds of dishes from it: candied fruit, flavoring for dessert dishes, syrup for beverages, and even a liqueur.  I shall have them prepare something.”

Ilmarė inhaled the flower’s scent.  “Amazing,” she whispered.

Quintus stood up to look at the pretty elf.  She was dressed in a simple purple peplos, with her hair down.  It was a rare unguarded moment.  

“I’m hoping to grow more citron trees instead of the usual wheat crops, but it’s slow-going. The citron tree is very delicate.  It must be carefully cultivated.” He smiled at Ilmarė, though she didn’t see his expression.

A slave interrupted their dialogue.  He bowed low before Quintus and presented a scroll.

“What is it?” asked Ilmarė.

Quintus’ eyes scanned the scroll.  “A letter, from Elandre val’Assante.”

“The weak human woman, husband of that disgusting Gaius.”

“The same.  She’s also the daughter of Acastus val’Assante, the Prelate of Grand Coryan,” said Quintus. “She’s invited you—us—to her father’s villa in Grand Coryan on the twenty seventh day of Vires at sunset.”

“For what?” asked Ilmarė. 

He kept reading.  “A party, apparently.  Influential and prominent persons will be in attendance.”

Ilmarė narrowed her eyes.  “That’s all? Just a social invitation?”

Quintus cleared his throat.  “Ah yes.  She also mentions in the letter something about assisting her in a personal matter.”

The elorii sighed.  “Nobody ever invites us to parties for our company anymore.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 1: Arrival at the Villa*

Their journey to Grand Coryan was as uneventful as such a trip could possibly be, given the countless travelers, merchants, beggars, thieves, thugs, nobles and folk of all descriptions who surged constantly in and out of the city like Yarris’ unceasing tide.  Episodes of minor trouble and opportunities for small heroic deeds had both presented themselves from time to time during the trip, but nothing of particular note happened by the time they reached the outskirts of the city late on an autumn afternoon.

As always, the roads into Grand Coryan were thronged with people.  Farmers and tradesmen on their way into the city jostled with caravans of merchants bound for the far corners of Onara.  Quintus and Ilmarė didn’t follow them, however.  Instead, they turned onto a road of old but well maintained gray flagstones, which led north around the walls of Grand Coryan.  On the hills above, bright in the glow of Illiir’s light, red-tiled roofs emerged from behind walls of smooth white stone.

“The villas of Grand Coryan’s wealthy elite,” said Quintus, nodding towards them.  

They made their way over to a large villa with its gate prominently marked with the symbols of Illiir. It was buzzing with activity.  Servants and slaves moved frequently in and out of the gate, bringing in all manner of parcels and goods before heading out empty-handed for more.

Two guards, with the balanced stance and watchful eyes of veterans, observed them with unsmiling faces. “Halt,” said one of them.

Quintus recognized that tattoo on one of the guard’s arms.  “Legion of Radiant Glory,” he said with a smirk.  “Great legion.”  He cleared his throat.  Ilmarė took a step back and waited out the introduction. “I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.  I have received an invitation from Lady val’Assante.”

“Great legion,” said the guard with a nod.  “Go on through.”

The bustle of activity became more obvious as they passed through the gates into the outer courtyard.  One slave was carefully trimming the hedges that line the outer wall while another followed behind him, carefully pick up each cut twig and fallen leaf.  Other slaves were polishing the white marble steps and washing the walls of the villa, while still others decorated the lawn and front doorway with brightly colored summer flowers.  

“To be in full bloom this late in the year, those flowers must have been brought all the way from Altheria,” said Ilmarė.

“A considerable expense,” said Quintus.  “It speaks volumes about our hosts.”

“Which volume is that?” Ilmarė eyed the servants.  “That they’re pretentious boors or prissy nobility?”

“Perhaps a combination of both,” said Quintus as a fat man with an ill-fitting wig and a powdered face flounced up to them.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 2: You Take the High Road…*

“Guests!  Oh wonderful!  I’m Clavius, the majordomo,” he lisped.  “I must apologize, the festivities are not scheduled to begin for another few hours.”  Clavius shouted at one of the servants. “No, no, you LIFT them.  LIFT the leaves!  We want it all to be spotless.  We need more pep, more smiles.  Everyone smile!”

“Let’s kill him now before he escapes the summoning circle,” said Ilmarė.

Quintus hushed her.  He turned back to Clavius.  “Lady Elandre invited us.  Do you know the occasion?”

“Oh yes,” said Clavius, “Lady Elandre said as much.  I’m afraid she’s unavailable at the moment, but she would like to meet with you in her parlor in an hour or so. As for why we’re having the party…” he whirled, lifting his chubby arms to take in the beautiful surroundings, “what better reason to celebrate when you live in luxury at the center of the civilized world!”  He leaned over conspiratorially to Quintus, who struggled not to take a step back.  “Master Acastus says that he will be making an important announcement this evening.”

“An announcement?” asked Ilmarė.  “She’s not getting married to another lout, is she?”

“Oh, yes,” a sad expression came over Clavius’ face.  He spoke quietly.  “A sad day that was, my lady.  Gaius val’Tensen was killed during a hunt.  A terrible pity.”

“How…abrupt,” said Ilmarė with a smirk. 

Quintus arched an eyebrow.  He had personally seen to it that Gaius was brought to justice. 

“None of us know what this party is about,” said Clavius. “But it IS exciting, isn’t it? So many important guests!”

“Important guests?” asked Quintus, suddenly interested.  

“Oh, yes, yes.  The Patriarch himself is expected to be here.” Clavius seemed nervous and excited at the same time.  “Also, several generals will be attending—friends from the days when Master Acastus served in the Legion of Radiant Glory.  General Menisis was too busy to attend, unfortunately.”

Quintus looked crestfallen at the news. 

“We’ve also been told that a group of honored guests from Milandir will be here, though we don’t know exactly who.  Beyond that…well, who can say?” Clavius’ extremely short attention span was distracted once more.  “You must polish that marble in a SMOOTH motion!” he sang.  “Smooth.  Up and down, left and right.  That’s it, that’s it!”  

The fat man floated away to pep up another servant, all of which were studiously ignoring him.

“Osalian help us,” said Ilmarė, rubbing her temples.

“I know,” said Quintus.  “He’s really quite annoying.”

“Not that,” said Ilmarė. “One of the ‘important guests’ just arrived.”

“Kham!” shouted Quintus with a broad smile.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 3: Meeting With Elandre*

“I didn’t know you were invited,” asked Quintus.  They were standing in Elandre’s parlor.

“Call me Katticus Maximus Val’Abebi,” whispered Kham, “I’m just another guest.  A shame about Gaius though.”

“I see you’ve heard,” said Ilmarė.

“Yeah,” said Kham.  “Very…abrupt.”

The far door opened and Lady Elandre emerged.  She was a tall and beautiful young woman with long, golden hair and fair skin.  She wore the gold striped toga of Coryani nobility. 

Elandre looked around the room and smiled at each of them in turn before seating herself on a comfortable divan.  She motioned for them to be seated as well.  Elandre looked at both doors to ensure that they were closed.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice sweet and melodious.  “I am sorry that my letters were rather vague, but I assure you that I have my reasons.”

“Don’t we all,” said Kham, reclining on his own divan.  He had already managed to find a wine bottle.  It was half empty.

“I…I need your help,” said Elandre.  She looked down at the carpet for a moment to gather her thoughts.  “At the celebration this evening, my father is going to announce my betrothal to Roderick val’Tensen.  He is the son of Adolphos val’Tensen, the Duke of Moratavia in Milandir.”

“Another lout,” said Ilmarė.

Elandre blushed. “I am sure that the Duke and his son are good men, but I have no desire to live in Milandir.  I have no idea why my father would agree to such a marriage.”

“Acastus is a reasonable man,” said Quintus.  “Have you spoken to him about this?” 

“I have asked him about it, but he has been unwilling to answer any of my questions and that is very unlike him.  I almost feel as though he doesn’t want me to marry the Duke’s son either, but for some reason he’s insisting that I go through with it.”  She looked up again.  “I would like you to find out why my father wants me to marry Roderick val’Tensen.  I cannot defy my father’s wishes, but if you can find a socially acceptable reason for the marriage to be called off, I would be profoundly grateful.”

Kham hopped up off of his divan.  “Let me get this straight.  You want us to stop a wedding, but without using force?  How exactly are we supposed to do that?”

“I’m sure my father’s been exchanging letters with Duke Adolphos about the betrothal. My father keeps his study locked whenever he’s not there, but he’ll be busy entertaining guests once the party starts.  If you could get into his study, that might provide some clues.”

Quintus looked perturbed. “You want us to break into your father’s study? That doesn’t seem very appropriate.”

Elandre blushed again and looked down at the ground.  “I know that, and I had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.  But you must understand…I’m worried that something is very wrong with him.  He is not himself lately.  I think he needs help, but he’s too proud to ask for it.  I don’t want anyone to do anything illegal or dishonorable, but if that’s what it takes to help my father, it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“Well then I’m your man,” said Kham with a broad smile.  He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in Quintus’ direction.  “The legionnaire here isn’t good at this sort of thing, but I’m sure we can work something out.”  

“You might be able to overhear something during the party itself,” she said, addressing Quintus.  The legionnaire crossed his arms in disapproval.  Quintus didn’t like what he was hearing.  “You’ll need to be careful though, since no one knows about the betrothal yet except my father, Adolphos, Roderick, myself, and now you.”

“How much?” interrupted Ilmarė.

“I can offer you 200 Imperials each to find out the reason for the betrothal.”

Ilmarė turned to Quintus.  Quintus’ nostrils flared.  He stared sideways at a wall.  Then he nodded.

“We’re in,” said Ilmarė.  

“Me too,” said Kham.

“Thank you very much for your assistance,” said Elandre.  “Remember, no one else knows the real reason you are here.”

“They’re not the only ones,” muttered Ilmarė.  

“Please try not to attract too much attention to yourselves.”  Elandre looked Quintus up and down.  “I’m sure you’re accustomed to carrying weapons and wearing armor, but that would be very inappropriate at a party such as this.”

Quintus’ brow furrowed. “I know how to conduct myself.  I’m a legionnaire, not a mercenary.” 

“Of course,” said Elandre.  “I will be at the party, at least for awhile, but I will be busy acting as hostess. I will probably not have much time to talk.  If you find anything out, try to get my attention and I will meet you when I can.”

With that, Elandre exited through the same doors she came in.  

“Sorry ladies,” said Kham, speaking to the pistols concealed beneath his overcoat.  “Looks like you’re going to rest this one out.”

“Still got Fleshripper?” asked Ilmarė.

Kham patted a wrapped up tube on his back.  “Like an old friend, he never leaves my side. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to freshen up for the party.”

After he left, Quintus shot Ilmarė a worried look.  “Since when did Kham start referring to his sword as a ‘he’?”

“The man refers to his pistols as ‘ladies’,” said Ilmarė.  “Stupid human.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 4: The Party Begins*

As they entered the central courtyard of Acastus’ villa, it was clear that he had spared no expense in preparing for the party.  Garlands of flowers hung from every wall and curtains of golden silk screened off alcoves, which might be used for more private conversations.  Servants stood attentively around the room, carrying trays of filled wineglasses or plates full of exotic fruits and cheeses.

In the center of the courtyard was a fountain of white marble, polished to a brilliant shine.  Crowning the fountain was a magnificent statue of Illiir himself, one hand outstretched in benediction while the other held aloft the Light of Illiir, a golden orb that glowed visibly beneath the moonlit sky.

A few guests mingled around the courtyard in small groups, most wearing the gold-trimmed togas of the Patrician Imperialis.  

“Judging from the amount of food and drink we saw being brought in earlier, there must be more guests yet to come,” said Ilmarė.

Their host, Acastus val’Assante, approached.  He was a middle-aged man with curly blonde hair, wearing long golden robes and a large sun ring.  

”Welcome to my home, honored guests,” he said.  

Quintus shook his hand.  “It’s good to see you again, Acastus.”

“I am terribly sorry that I was not available to greet you when you first arrived. So many things to prepare…I do hope you understand.”

“Of course,” said Quintus. Ilmarė nodded politely, holding onto Quintus’ arm.  

“Elandre should be along presently as well.”  He turned to a tall, brown haired woman beside him.  “May I present General Nicia val’Dellenov, commander of the Legion of the Mighty Oak?”  Nicia smiled back at Quintus.

Acastus glanced toward the main entrance to the courtyard.  “I fear I must beg your pardon once more.  More guests are arriving and I must make them welcome.  Kindly excuse me.”  With that, Acastus was gone.  

Nicia laughed quietly as Acastus departs.  “He certainly seems to be on edge tonight,” she said.  “He’s as nervous as a celibate in Savona.”

Ilmarė blinked.  “Charming,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Quintus.

“I suppose we shall have to finish our introductions ourselves.  You are…?”

Quintus took a deep breath.  “I am Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun,” he smiled.  Ilmarė squeezed his arm after a moment. “Oh, yes, this is Ilmarė Galen—“

Ilmarė interrupted Quintus.  “Ilmarė Galen, Larestri from Entaris.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m standing in a puddle of Quintus’ drool.”

Quintus blinked. “What?”

Ilmarė disappeared into the steady stream of dignitaries, lesser church figures, local politicians and other gentry.

From the main entrance of the house, the majordomo announced the arrival of a new guest.  “Hemin val’Tensen, General of the Legion of Radiant Glory.”

The general was a fit, fortyish man with close cropped iron gray hair and a hawkish nose that looked like it had been broken at least once.  He had a stern, almost scowling face, but it broke into a wide smile when he saw Acastus.  They embraced each other like very old friends.  

Hemin made his way over to Quintus and Nicia, interrupting their conversation.  

“What’s the matter?” Kham asked Ilmarė, leaning against one wall.  “Your boyfriend not paying enough attention to you?” Despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing his overcoat, he managed to be invisible nonetheless.  No one seemed to notice him.  

“The Vessel of Illiir, Felician val’Mehan, Most Holy Patriarch of the Mother Church of Coryan!” announced the majordomo.

The guests and servants nearest the doorway all dropped to one knee.  Acastus kneeled and kissed the Patriarch’s ring. Quintus got in line to do the same.

The Patriarch himself was an older, white-haired man.  His tanned face was weathered by the sun and creased with smile lines.  He wore the golden robes of a priest of Illiir.  While they were finely made, his robes were somewhat plainer than the robes Acastus wore.

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Too many humans with titles they don’t deserve,” she nodded towards Quintus.  “He’s loving every minute of it.”

The newest guest was introduced as “Gerrius val’Borda, General of the Legion of the Watchful Hunter!” A short, barrel-chested man with olive skin and black hair entered.  He greeted Acastus with a brief but heartfelt embrace before moving towards the corner where the two generals were in deep conversation.

“All you’ve got to do is keep them busy,” said Kham. 

The majordomo’s voice cut through the din of conversation. “Roderick val’Tensen, Margrave of Moratavia and party!”  The other guests murmured as the young nobleman entered the courtyard, clad not in a toga but in the finest of Milandisian fashions.  He was perhaps eighteen years of age and accompanied by a quarter of other similarly dressed young men.  

Roderick bowed politely to Acastus as he entered.  A knowing glance passed between them.  As Roderick and his party arrived, Elandre quietly slipped out of the courtyard and headed back towards her chambers.

Quintus meandered his way back to the generals, a goblet of wine in his hand.  He was talking excitedly with the female general.

Kham nudged Ilmarė in the ribs. “You remember how to do that, right? Talk to other people and pretend that you don’t want to throw up?”

Ilmarė’s lip curled in irritation.  Then she looked over at Roderick.  “Yes, I think I do remember how to do that.” Her sneer transformed into a dazzling smile.  She adjusted her hair.  “You might want to leave now,” she said to Kham.  But he was already gone.

The elorii shrugged.  Then she strode across the room towards her prey.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 5: Study Break*

The noisy conversation and laughter of the guests faded behind Kham as he slipped down the hallway towards Acastus’ study.  No one else was in the halls; those servants who weren’t tending to the guests were staying out of sight so to not offend the sensibilities of their betters.  

Kham didn’t realize how much he would miss Fleshripper.  It was easily within a hundred paces, but the magic that bound it to him and he to it was not to be denied.  Kham kept fighting the urge to go back to it, if only to see that the sword was still where he left it. 

He was being ridiculous.  Kham shook his head to clear the cobwebs and tried to focus on the task at hand.

The door was of plain, but sturdy oak.  It was well-polished and thoroughly locked. 

Kham drew his trusty dagger from within his tunic.  He pushed the butt of it against the door and an array of lock picks popped out of it.  Then he went to work. 

After wrestling with the lock for much too long, he was rewarded with a quiet click. Kham pushed the door open and ducked inside, gently closing it behind him.

The larger study was unlit and dark. A few moonbeams came through the windows and gleamed off the dark polished wood of Acastus’ desk and bookshelves.  

Kham lit a tindertwig and held it up over his head to look around.

The shelves were crowded with books, most of them religious in nature.  Atop the desk were a few unfinished documents, as well as several blank sheets of vellum, a writing kit.  There were also a variety of small paperweights, including a statuette of Illiir.  There were several drawers in the desk, one of which appeared to be locked.

“They always put it in the false drawer,” said Kham with a knowing smile.  Another few minutes of fumbling with the hilt of his dagger and the drawer popped open.  

Inside were a variety of letters, most of which dealt with fairly mundane church matters.  All except for two.

Kham scanned the letters.  His eyes went wide as he finished.  “Holy crap,” he whispered.

Then the door creaked opened.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 6a: Love at First Sight*

“Quintus, have you ever thought of joining the Mighty Oak?” asked Nicia with a smile.  “We could use a man with your experience.”

Quintus smiled.  “You are very kind, lady val’Dellenov, but my first love is my legion. Did I mention the time when we took on the Nierites in Ventaka?  We were outnumbered…”

Ilmarė’s keen hearing picked up on the conversation from across the room.  She was struggling to keep focused on the idiots before her.

“That is SO fascinating!” said Roderick, staring not quite into her eyes.  “I’ve always wondered about the Elorii culture.”

“Yes,” said Brendis, one of Roderick’s pack.  Or as Ilmarė thought of him, Idiot Number Four.  “Tell us more, dear lady.”

Ilmarė patted Roderick’s arm.  The boy’s eyes lit up at the touch.  “Enough about me.  Tell me more about you,” she said.  

“Oh, nothing nearly as exciting as you,” said Roderick.  “Do all elorii have purple hair as beautiful as yours?”

Ilmarė smirked.  This was too easy.  “Sometimes I’m not sure which color is my original hair,” she said, twirling one silvery curl around her finger.  “But yes, it’s my natural color.”

The constant murmur of conversation grew suddenly louder near the main entrance to the villa.  Then it abruptly fell silent.  

The majordomo’s voice rang out to announce the arrival of another group.  “The Light of the World, by the grace of the Pantheon, Emperor of Coryan, Calsestus val’Assante!” 

The assembled worthies began to bow before the Emperor—the Milandisians not quite so deeply as the Coryani—and Ilmarė finally got a look at the most powerful man in the Empire. Ilmarė bowed about as deeply as the Milandisians.

Calsestus was perhaps forty years old, dressed in a purple toga with intricate gold trim.  He wore a benevolent and slightly smug smile as he surveyed the assembled guests.  

“Her Majesty, Queen Alezha,” shouted the majordomo. Upon his right arm, moving with an almost catlike grace, was a petite and stunningly beautiful woman with dusky skin, night black hair and deep amber eyes.  A small but ornate tiara nestled with her long hair, set with emeralds that matched the green silk of her dress.  

“Lady Verina val’Sheem!” On the Emperor’s left arm was another beautiful black haired woman.  This one was taller than Alezha, with the olive skin of a Cafelan and the steel gray eyes of a Val.  

“Lady Aconia val’Dellenov!” Walking a pace behind the Emperor was a third woman, also breathtaking in appearance.  She was the tallest of the tree, and her brown hair curled in ringlets around her face.  

As the Emperor and his consorts entered the courtyard, a dozen guards, courtiers and servants filed in afterwards.  

Roderick and his boys openly gaped at the crowd and in particular the consorts.  Ilmarė cleared her throat.  She moved from Roderick to Brendis’ arm and began to steer him towards Quintus. “Tell me more about your homeland,” she said.  “I find it interesting.” 

She didn’t even know where the young fool came from.

They came face to face with Quintus.  The legionnaire’s expression registered surprise and then a flicker of something else.  Was it jealousy?  Ilmarė smiled sweetly at him.

“Hello, Quintus.  I’d like you to meet my new friend…”

The Emperor passed by them.  The whole party paused for a moment.  Quintus, who was in mid-gesture as he spoke to the other generals, froze in place.  Then he immediately bowed low.

Calsestus seemed alternately amused and satisfied by the gesture.  “We will be watching your progress carefully, Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.” Then he moved on.

”Osalian help us,” said Ilmarė, lifting a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose.  “We’ll never hear the end of this.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 6b: Love at First Sight*

A small bell chimed three times near the fountain in the center of the courtyard.  Conversation died down as all eyes turned in that direction.

Acastus stood expectantly by the fountain with a large goblet of wine in one hand.  Once the courtyard quieted down, he spoke.

”Glorious Emperor, beloved friends, honored guests!  I have invited you here tonight for two reasons.  First, I am always honored to open my home and share the bounty which Illiir has given me with such illustrious guests.”  Acastus smiled as a wave of polite applause rippled through the assemblage.

“Second, I wish to make an announcement.”  A hush fell over the crowd.  Even the servants watched intently.  “You have doubtless noticed that among our guests tonight are several visitors from Milandir, our northern neighbor, which shares so much of our beloved Coryani heritage.” 

Standing at Roderick’s side, Ilmarė could see the boy’s thin smile.  Several murmured comments whispered through the crowd.  

“I am always pleased to welcome such visitors to my home, but tonight’s visit has special significance.”  Acastus’ voice took on a more formal, almost ceremonial tone.  “Roderick val’Tensen, Margrave of Moratavia, I hereby offer you the hand in marriage of my daughter, Elandre val’Assante.  Will you take it?”

All eyes turned towards Roderick. He realized Ilmarė was holding his arm and pulled himself away from the elorii.

Roderick stepped forward among the murmuring of surprised, even shocked, voices.  He bowed formally to Acastus.  When he rose, there was a self-assured smile on his face.

“Master val’Assante, you do my nation and myself a great honor here tonight.  The goal of bringing Coryan and Milandir together by bonds of marriage, rather than by force of arms, is a laudable one. However, I cannot…” his voice trailed off as he stared across the courtyard.  The smug grin on his face had disappeared.

“I…cannot…”

Elandre had returned.  She stood framed in the archway, wearing a long dress of white silk that caught the moonlight.  She didn’t look happy, but that did not change the fact that she was a remarkably beautiful woman.

Ilmarė slapped her forehead.  She hadn’t managed to get that kind of reaction out of Roderick.  

Roderick’s jaw worked soundlessly for a few moments as he stared at Elandre.  Finally, he spoke again, his final words tumbling out in a rush. “…imagine a more beautiful woman in all of Arcanis.  I accept your offer with pleasure.”

A festive cheer erupted from the crowd and a surge of well-wishers moved towards Elandre, with the Emperor and his party at the forefront.  

Acastus and Roderick headed into the back part of the villa amidst much backslapping and cheering from Roderick’s companions.  Acastus had Roderick’s shoulder clamped in a grip that looked more angry than fatherly as they passed through the archway.

Ilmarė sighed.  Roderick and his cronies had left her standing alone.  She grabbed a silver tray from a servant and inspected her purple and silver tresses.  Then she lifted her chin and looked back at her image.  “Still the prettiest,” she said.  

“…and that’s how we defeated the Harvesters of Ymandragore,” said Quintus.  He was starting to slur his speech.  He showed almost no interest in the wedding announcement, far too concerned with regaling the generals with tales of his glory.  The generals were politely interested, but there was a limit to how polite they were willing to be.

“Stupid human men,” said Ilmarė. Then she went to rescue Quintus from himself.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 7: Meet the Parents*

Kham got a quick glimpse of Acastus’ reaching for the statue of Illiir.  He tapped it once and it glowed with the brilliance of daylight.  Then he ducked down again to avoid being seen.

The door closed behind them. As soon as it was closed, Acastus snarled at Roderick.  “What treachery is this, boy?  Your father and I had an agreement!”

Kham hung from the windowsill by his fingertips.  

“Yes m’lord,” said Roderick, nervous.  “And believe me, I had every intention of rejecting your offer, just as my father instructed.”

It was cold outside.  Kham’s arms were beginning to hurt.

“Then what in Illiir’s name happened?”

Kham made the mistake of looking down at the tindertwig he had hastily discarded.  It tumbled down the slope.  That’s when he realized he that the villa was built into the side of a hill.  It was a long way down.

Roderick walked over to the window to look up at the moon.

Don’t look down, Kham screamed mentally as hard as he could.

“She is beautiful, my lord,” Roderick said simply.  “Beautiful beyond words and her eyes shine like those of Larissa herself.  When I saw her face, I knew in that moment that I could not bear to turn her away from me.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  He’d been there, but the kid was sappier than most.

“You idiot!” shouted Acastus.  “There are greater things at stake here than your loins, you damnable lout.  And now that you’ve done this in public—in front of Calsestus no less—it’ll be hell getting out of it.”

“I still don’t understand, Acastus.  If you did not want me to marry your daughter, why offer me her hand in the first place?”

Acastus laughed bitterly.  “if you ever plan to succeed your father as Duke, boy, you’d better learn to think.  The Emperor ORDERED me to offer you Elandre’s hand.  He wants you to marry her in order to keep General Menisis from attacking your father’s lands again.  Menisis has been a friend of my family for years, and he won’t risk a war if Elandre might be endangered.  She’s a hostage for the General’s good behavior.”

“Holy crap” mouthed Kham.

Roderick’s voice grew cold.  “All the more reason that I SHOULD marry her, then! My father’s lands do not belong to Coryan, nor will they ever.  If Elandre’s presence will keep Menisis from spilling more blood, I will be doubly glad to wed her.”

“Do you honestly think the Emperor cares any more than Menisis does for your homeland?  Calsestus would see all of Milandir rejoined to the Empire as a captive province once more. And if he forces the Mother Church to reunite with the Canceri heretics, there will be enemies on both sides of your nation, ready to crush you in the middle.”

Kham had to admit he had a point.  Although he would have felt much more agreeable if he could still feel his fingertips.

“Menisis is the only one in Coryan who can oppose the Emperor.  If this marriage goes through, Calsestus’ position on the Alabaster Throne will be secure…and Milandir doomed as much as Coryan.  I have explained all of this to your father, and he saw the wisdom of my reasoning.  And now your adolescent lusts have ruined everything.”

There was a pause.  Roderick turned away from the window to reply.  “What would you have me do?”

“Go back to the courtyard and try to put a good face on this.  Surely, even you are capable of that much.  I’ll be here trying to come up with a way out of this mess. “

Althare’s ass!, thought Kham.  Acastus was going to be there all night.  

Kham’s arms were numb, it was cold, and he had just finished an entire bottle of wine.  All this conspired against him.

And finally, Kham’s fingers decided they had enough.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold as Stone - Part 8a: A Restless Night*

Quintus and Ilmarė entered the parlor, only to find Elandre pacing there.  There was no trace of her practiced smile. 

“What have you learned?” she demanded.

Quintus rubbed the back of his head.  “Well, actually we didn’t—”

“—have a problem digging up the evidence,” said Kham as he limped into the parlor.  He was covered in dirt.

“Oh?” said Elandre. 

“Yes,” said Ilmarė with a smirk.  “Do tell.”

Kham dusted himself off.  “From what I was able to find, Adolphos val’Tensen made a deal with your father to reject your hand in marriage. Basically, it was a ploy to say no to the Emperor without publicly dishonoring your family.”

“Katticus…” said Ilmarė.

Elandre’s eyes narrowed and her lips curled angrily.  “So, father would use me as a pawn in his political games, would he?”

“But then I suppose you knew that already,” continued Kham.  

“Katticus…” said Quintus.

Elandre resumed stalking up and down the parlor floor. “Dangle me as bait to keep the Emperor happy, hoping to snatch me away before the jaws close on me?”

“I mean, Roderick would have to be an idiot to marry you.  Going along with the marriage is tantamount to a hostile takeover.”

“Kham!” shouted Ilmarė.  “Roderick went through with the proposal!”

Kham coughed into one fist.  “Oh.”

“And now his failure means I’m doomed to a miserable life with that damned Milandisian,” said Elandre. “I’ll kill him.” Elandre remembered she still had an audience.  She smiled, once again appearing to be the perfect congenial hostess.  “I’m sorry.  You have done well, and I thank you. Please stay in the villa tonight as my guests; I will have your payment ready in the morning.  For now, I must go speak to my father.”  With that, she left.

Kham shook out his hair.  A few leaves fell off.

“What happened to you?” asked Quintus.

“Let’s just say it was much faster getting out of Acastus’ study than getting into it. He’s still in there.”

“Fell out the window again?” asked Ilmarė.

Kham rubbed some dirt off of his nose.  “Anyway, I didn’t tell her everything.  There’s this other note,” he waved the note in Quintus’ direction.

Ilmarė snatched it from Kham and read it.  Then she handed it to Quintus.  “Well,” he said.  “Looks like the holier than thou Acastus is actually in league with a cult.”

“All to prevent reunification of the Mother Church with the Dark Triumvirate,” said Kham.

“This is troubling,” said Quintus.  “We should—“

“How DARE you?” Elandre’s voice was brimming with barely controlled fury.  They could hear in the parlor, even though she was with Acastus in the study.

“You will not speak to me in such a tone, girl,” replied Acastus.

“I have, and I will again.  You have made me a pawn in your games with the Emperor. And when you lose the game, I am the one who pays the price.  You could have at least warned me—“

“And if I had warned you,” Acastus interrupted, “what would you have done?”

“Tried to bring you to your senses!” yelled Elandre.  “We could have figured out some other way together, a way to avoid defying the Emperor—“

“There IS no other way, Elandre.  I know you’re angry, but I am still your father, and I am still the one who decides what is best for my family and my country.”

“What’s best for YOU, you mean,” said Elandre.  “You don’t care a grain for Coryan or for me.”

“Elandre—“

“Which is why I suppose you’re just as happy to banish me to some cold, gray wasteland with a fool for a husband.  That way, you won’t ever have to trouble yourself over me again.  Well, if that’s what you want, so be it.  The next time you see me father, it will be over your grave.”

The argument ended with Elandre violently slamming the door.  

“Awk-ward!” sang Kham.  “Well that was fun.”  He grabbed a bottle of wine from a pedestal.  “I’m going to bed. Wake me when she kills him.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 8b: A Restless Night*

Some hours later, Ilmarė was awakened by a loud crash from the back part of the villa, followed by a heavy thump.  After that, silence descended once more.

Ilmarė lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.  She really didn’t want to investigate the disturbance.  But she knew she should.  And she knew that things would only be worse if she didn’t get up.

Ilmarė drew her trusty throwing dagger from beneath her pillow.  She had never given it back to its original owner, Captain Bezyli, but with good reason; it had saved her life and ended the lives of others on more than one occasion. 

“Quintus!” she hissed.  “Wake up!”

Quintus was still dressed in his party attire in a bed on the other side of the room.  Ilmarė was sure that an unmarried female sleeping in the same room as an unmarried male would offend human sensibilities, even if she were elorii.  But she didn’t care.  

Or at least, she told herself that when she shook her companion awake. People had just assumed, and Ilmarė was not inclined to disabuse them of the notion.

“Get up, Quintus!  I heard a noise.”

Quintus’ eyes fluttered open.  “Wha?”

“A noise.”  Ilmarė threw his sheathed gladius to him.  He was too groggy to catch it, so it thumped into his stomach. “I think it came from Acastus’ study.”

That got the legionnaire to his feet.  He opened the door and poked his head out.  “There’s a light under the door.”

Ilmarė crept past him and made her way over.  She peered into the darkness on the other side of the lit doorway.

“Kham?”

“Oh, hi.” Kham held Fleshripper pointed towards the ground.  “Did you two just come out of the same bedroom?”

Quintus didn’t bother to answer.  He kicked the door open with his bare foot.

Acastus’ study was dark, but light from the hallway revealed a ransacked mess.  Books and papers were strewn everywhere, and bloodstains dotted the floor in several places.  The curtains in the window swayed gently in the still night air, but there was otherwise no movement or sign of life.

“Show yourself, intruder!” bellowed Quintus.

Suddenly, a hideous figure leaped out from behind the desk, snarling from its sharp-toothed mouth.  It wore a bloodstained toga.  A bloody wound still gaped open at its throat.  By far its most horrible feature was its face; it leered, pallid skin stretched tightly over the skull, its eyes as gray and cold as stone.

“It’s Acastus!” shouted Kham.

Quintus lifted the amulet at his neck and lifted it towards the thing that was once Acastus. “Foul creature of Neroth’s rage, back to Beltaine’s embrace!”

Acastus’ lips peeled back in a feral snarl.  Then it leaped at Quintus with claws outstretched.

There was a flash of metal, and Acastus stumbled.  Kham held Fleshripper with both hands.  Gibbets of flesh dripped from the blade.

“I saw someone escape out the window,” said Quintus.  “Keep going! I’ll take care of this!”

“How?” asked Kham.  “By shouting at it?”

The ghoul launched itself again at Quintus.  He drew his gladius in time to run the thing through.  Its claws gripped Quintus’ face.

Then Captain Bezyli’s dagger jutted from Acastus forehead.  And for the second time, he was still.

Acastus slumped to the ground, eyes wide, jaw slack.  

Ilmarė kneeled down to pluck something out of Acastus’ mouth.  “Here’s the problem.”  She flipped a coin to Kham.

Kham snatched it out of the air.  “Canceri coin,” he said, holding it up to the moonlight.  

“A Coin of the Soul’s Travails,” said Ilmarė.  

Kham pocketed the coin. “If I had a light I could tell you more…say, where’s the statue?”

“What?” asked Quintus.  

“The statue.  There was a statue of Illiir in here and now it’s gone.”

“So we have a murderer and a thief,” said Ilmarė. “Whoever assassinated Acastus wanted to ensure he could never be brought back.  They didn’t just violate his corpse…”

“They violated his soul.”  Quintus’ nostrils flared.  “Whoever did this will pay dearly. Let’s go.”

Quintus hopped up on the windowsill. 

“Uh, you may want to—“

The legionnaire disappeared over the edge.  Kham winced when he heard the sound of legionnaire tumbling down the steep hill. It was followed by a loud curse. 

“Never mind,” said Kham.  

Ilmarė leaped easily onto the windowsill.  “Child’s play for a child of Osalian,” she said.  She waved at Kham and then stepped backwards off of the sill. 

“You do that,” said Kham.  “The children of Althares take the steps.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Man, Kham gets all the best lines.   

Just finished reading through the whole backlog. Brilliant! The Cthulhuoid stuff works very well in a fantasy setting, the way you do it.


----------



## talien

Hi Fimmtiu,

Thank you for your kind words! 

It's true, Kham does have all the best lines.  This is a combination of the person playing his character (Jeremy Ortiz, who can be quite witty when he wants to be) and my conscious decision to make Kham the "everyman."

I am convinced that what went wrong with the later versions of Star Wars was the lack of Han Solo.  Han Solo wasn't just an outsider to the established hierarchy of the Star Wars universe, he was a skeptical outsider who talked like us.  In other words, he was the person you could relate to most because he was most similar to the audience.  He wasn't a wide-eyed farm boy learning to use magical powers or a headstrong princess or a giant furry alien. 

In this story hour, Vlad is our Luke Skywalker. He's the newbie, but it's hard to see things through his eyes if you're an experienced player.  Matt (Vlad's player) was new to 3rd edition, so everything was new to him.  Kham, on the other hand, is our Han Solo -- experienced, jaded, and a wiseass with all the good lines.  And of course Ilmare is the Princess Leia type, full of sarcasm and telling everyone what to do.

I could keep making the parallels (Dril = Lando, Cal = Chewbacca, Quintus = a more aggressive version of C3P0, etc.), but these character tropes existed long before I came along. 

I have a soft spot for Cthulhu monsters.  I don't know why.  We played every King in Yellow adventure I could get my hands on.  In fact, we're kind of King in Yellow-ed out.  But it made for a great series of villains.  

This is just the INTRODUCTION of the King in Yellow.  There will be repercussions throughout the story hour.  In fact, the events you just read about will be a very important part of the conclusion of the story hour.

Stay tuned!


----------



## Azgulor

Conclusion of the story/chapter and not the story hour, I hope!


----------



## talien

Sorry, I edited my post for clarity.

The story hour is complete.  It runs 60 something chapters or so.  I'm just posting them now in installments.  After rewriting the final chapter several times to wrap up a bunch of plot lines, I'm finally happy with the finished product. Overall the players are happy too.

There is the possibility of an additional chapter involving Sebastian (you'll see why later), but that's been complicated by a couple of factors:
* My son was born, which pretty much derailed all gaming for months (we have to travel 2 hours to game together, and he's not always happy about that).
* The switch to 4th edition is right around the corner, and I'm starting to sell my books to Noble Knight.  I've held onto the ones that are still relevant to the adventure but I'm not going to hold onto them for much longer.
* We're starting a D20 modern conspiracy-type game and the players really want to start that rather than play D&D.

So it really depends on whether or not we can squeeze in one or two more D&D 3.5 sessions.  If not, I'm content with the ending as is. 

Rest assured, at the posting rate of about one every four or five days, you guys will have plenty to read for a long time to come.


----------



## Azgulor

Congratulations on the birth of your son!  I'm glad to hear we still have lots of Arcanis-based adventure in store, as well.

Hopefully, your D20 Modern game will merit a story hour as well.


----------



## talien

Azgulor said:
			
		

> Congratulations on the birth of your son!  I'm glad to hear we still have lots of Arcanis-based adventure in store, as well.
> 
> Hopefully, your D20 Modern game will merit a story hour as well.



Thanks!  He already has a big fuzzy 20 sided die near his crib. 

The d20 Modern game doesn't just have a story hour, the story hour is part of the game.  I've started writing up the introductory fiction for each character (based on each PCs description and background) to explain how they get involved with Majestic-12.


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 9: Pursuit and Vengeance*

The hilly ground outside Grand Coryan was dark, and the night air was cold as Quintus rode forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of his prey.  There was little light though, and many possible hiding places.  

“You do realize the odds of us catching the killer at this point are slim,” said Ilmarė.

“Illiir’s vengeance will not be stopped,” said Quintus.  “He will give us a sign.”

“Yeah, right,” said Kham.  “Now Althares gives signs BEFORE people have their throats cut.”

Suddenly, a burst of light, as bright as Illiir’s own, shone out from behind a nearby hillside.  

“There!” shouted Quintus.

The light was quickly doused.

Kham laughed out loud.  “The idiot must have accidentally tapped the statue.  When you touch it, it lights up.”

“Is there any statue of Illiir that DOESN’T light up?” asked Ilmarė.

Quintus dismounted and walked towards the clearing, gladius drawn. His fist glowed with it’s a light as bright as the statue.  “Come out and show yourself, coward!” 

Kham drew Fleshripper.  “I’m sure he’s going to show himself now—“

A humanoid form shimmered as it plunged a crossbow bolt jutted out of Quintus’ back. He whirled, the bolt still jutting from his finger.  

“You!” snarled Quintus. 

“Brendis?” asked Ilmarė in surprise. The assassin was one of Roderick’s pack. 

“You’ll pay for that!” Quintus pointed at the assassin with his gladius. “Bow down before Illiir’s might!” 

Brendis laughed at him.

Kham lined up a shot with his sole pistol. “You know this guy?” 

BLAM!

A chunk of terrain exploded where Brendis was standing.  He rolled to the side.

“He’s fast,” said Ilmarė.  

“Kneel, criminal, and be judged!” shouted Quintus. Nothing happened.

“Are you going to shout him to death?” asked Kham.  “Stab him with something sharp!” As if to emphasize the point, Kham ran into the fracas.  Brendis tried to block the attack with his rapier, but Fleshripper skipped off of the guard and gashed his upper left arm.  

Brendis feinted left, then slashed downward.  Kham yelped but held his ground.

Outnumbered, the assassin turned to run.  He made it a few steps before Ilmarė’s dagger jutted from his thigh. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg.

Quintus caught up with him first. He sheathed his gladius and lifted Brendis up by his chain shirt.  Brendis’ arm was bleeding far more than any wound should. “Whom do you work for?”

Brendis spat at him.  

Kham pointed at the assassin’s upper left arm.  “I think that speaks volumes.”

Visible in the open tear of Brendis’ chain mail was a tattoo.  It was in the shape of a flaming sword topped with a crown and surrounded by clouds.  

“A Nierite,” said Quintus.  He wiped the spittle off of his face with his other hand.  

“Leonydas val’Virdan, the Sword of the Heavens, who invaded Canceri, to be exact,” added Ilmarė.

Quintus pulled the younger man closer to his face.  “You will tell me everything.”  His pupils took on a golden sheen.  “Tell me who sent you.”

Brendis broke out in a sweat.  He tried to look away from Quintus’ gaze, but he was transfixed. “You already know.”

“And your mission?”

“To kill Acastus val’Assante and ensure that he could not return from the dead.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” said Brendis.  Quintus forced the man to his knees. “It doesn’t matter.  The Sword of Heavens has triumphed. ”

Quintus drew his gladius with a loud SHING!

“What are you—” asked Kham.

“Illiir finds you guilty!” Then he slit Brendis’ throat.

“Althares!” shouted Kham.  “What did you do that for?”

Quintus eyes stopped glowing.  He knelt down to pick up the statuette of Illiir dangling from Brendis’ belt.  “Illiir judged him. He told us everything he knew.”

Kham looked at Ilmarė.  She shrugged back.  

“I know this type of man,” said Quintus.  “He would not allow himself to be taken alive.” He walked away to mount up.

Kham shook his head.  “Yeah, I’m sure you know all about fanatics.”

Ilmarė stared down at Brendis’ spreading pool of blood.  “I’m not so sure that was the only reason he killed him,” she said.


----------



## Mahtave

Excellent SH Talien.  I was sad this morning when I thought I had caught up in reading this story.  But then I was happy to see another update this afternoon!  Hurray!  

Of course now that I have read it, I am sad again... 

Seriously though, I am enjoying this immensely.  Kham so far is my favorite PC; mostly due to him getting most of the good one-liners.


----------



## talien

Thank you!

I respond well to encouragement, so just for that I'm posting another installment to wrap this chapter up!


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 10: Conclusion*

Elandre received them in her father’s study. She listened carefully to their report, struggling to keep a tight rein on her emotions.  

“Thank you again for all your efforts; if I had some inkling of this plot against my father’s life, I believe that you could have saved him as well.  I only wish my last words to him had not been so…harsh…” She trailed off, looking at the floor.

“We’ve all taken loved ones for granted sometimes,” said Ilmarė.  She shot Quintus a glare.  “Your father loved you and you loved him; nothing you said changed that.”

Elandre nodded.  “I have your payment here.” She wiped her eyes and handed out three sacks of gold.  

“We retrieved the statue,” said Quintus in low tones.  He held it up in the light.  It was spattered with Brendis’ blood.

“I would like you to keep it, Quintus,” she said with a wan smile.  “Perhaps it will light your way in dark times.”

“I would be honored,” he replied. 

“However,” said Elandre, “I would ask one more favor from you.”  Before anyone could response, she continued.  “I cannot reject the marriage my father had arranged; it would be seen as a rejection of him and would dishonor his memory now that he is…gone.  Also, now that I know the Emperor is behind the marriage, I am sure that he would find a way to compel me to go through with it.”

“Your father didn’t want you to marry Roderick,” said Kham. 

“I know that now,” she said.  “And now that he is gone, I will be needed here more than ever.”  She turned to Ilmarė.  “Will you talk to Roderick and ask him to reconsider, to cancel the marriage?” Ilmarė started to speak but Elandre interrupted her. “You have already done so much for me; may I ask you for this one final favor?”

“Don’t look at me,” said Kham.  He jingled the purse in Elandre’s direction. “I’m heading back to Freeport. I don’t plan to ever step foot in Coryan again if I can help it.”

Ilmarė took a deep breath.  She put one hand on Quintus’ shoulder.  “WE’LL talk to him.”


----------



## talien

*As Gray and Cold As Stone - Epilogue*

“Call off the wedding,” said Quintus in his usual brusque manner.  “Elandre does not want to marry you.”

Ilmarė frowned.  “What Quintus is trying to say is that this marriage is not under the best circumstances.  You barely know her.”

Roderick looked from the human to the elorii and back again.  “But I love her!”

“Your father and Acastus are—were—both against the marriage,” said Quintus.

“There are different kinds of love,” said Ilmarė.  “Yours will fade.  If it still remains after some time apart, then you may want to court her.”

“Court her?”

“Yes,” said Quintus.  “Love is an exchange.  You must earn her love. And she must love you back. Declaring it doesn’t make it true.”

Ilmarė looked sideways at Quintus.  “And marriage doesn’t guarantee love.”

“You sound as if you speak from personal experience,” said Roderick.

“That’s not the point,” said Ilmarė, flustered.  “The point is—“

“The point is that you should call off the marriage,” Quintus repeated.  “And perhaps, if you are worthy of her love, she will come to you willingly one day.”

“It would be a sacrifice,” said Roderick, rising to his feet.  “A noble sacrifice, but one that I must bear.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “If that makes you feel better about it, yes.”

“I will call it off,” said Roderick. “And who knows,” he added with a sly smile, “she may come to love me yet!”

Ilmarė patted Roderick on the shoulder.  “Good man.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change out of these clothes.”  She exited.

Roderick watched her leave. “You’re a lucky man,” he said to Quintus.  “Ilmarė is beautiful, almost as pretty as Elandre. And she’s very wise. I hope one day to have Elandre love me like Ilmarė loves you.”

Quintus blinked.  “Legionnaires cannot marry,” he said slowly. “We are married to our legion.”

Roderick gave him a pitying look.  “At least you have a choice. You can always quit your legion.  I’m going to have to work hard to court Elandre.” He hustled Quintus out of his room. “Anyway, thanks for your advice.”  

Once he was in the hallway, Quintus took a long hard look at the statue of Illiir.  It was a golden statuette, perhaps six inches tall, depicting Illiir with one hand outstretched in benediction, while the other held the orb of the sun overhead.  

He tapped it once.  The light went on.  The legionnaire of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun was silhouetted by the statue’s glow. 

“At least I have a choice,” he whispered to himself.

Quintus tapped it again.  The light went out.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 20: Hand of the Master - Introduction*

This adventure is soft point 5 in Year 2 of the tournament module, "Hand of the Master," written by Jeffrey Witthauer and Jeffrey Meehan, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Bijoux (fihali druid) played by Melissa Tresca
·	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca (http://www.creepyportfolio.com)  
·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.dreamscupltor.com) 
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
·	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure was an important but short chapter in the evolution of Beldin and Kham.  For Beldin, it put him firmly on the adventuring map.  I hinted at Beldin’s competition with another dwarf for apprenticeship to Elabac; in this adventure, that competition comes to a head.  And of course, Fleshripper is a character in its own right, so it’s only appropriate that the wicked blade evolves right along with Kham.

Poor Kham.  The one character that wants to jump around and fight, and he (as Jeremy puts it) carries a ten-pound brick around.  Well, it’s not a brick anymore.  By the end of the adventure, Fleshripper takes center stage.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Prologue*

“What do you mean you can’t remove it?” 

Kham was trying to remain calm, but he hid his displeasure poorly. Alsef fidgeted nervously next to his master and legendary dwarven smith, Elabac. 

“I’m sorry…” wheezed Elabac.  “Fleshripper is not…a curse…but a condition.  Although it painful…this fever will pass…and at the end…you will be stronger for it.”

Kham slapped both palms down on the table.  “This sword is ruining my life!” The other dwarves looked over at Kham.  He took a swig from a nearby wineskin and lowered his voice.  “Elabac, please.  You have to separate me from it.  It made me do…” his eyes lost focus, “some horrible things.  I’m afraid what I might do next.”

Elabac smiled but shook his head.  “This is…your burden to bear, I’m afraid.  It is possible…that with the right gemstone…I may be able…to strengthen your bond—”

“Strengthen it? I don’t want to be closer to the damn thing!  I want you to remove it!”

“I understand…” said Elabac. “But things must get worse…before they will get better.” The old dwarf leaned forward, his gray whiskers brushing against the table.  “Kham…Fleshripper chose you…for a reason.  Your fates are intertwined.”

“Jarel can provide a gemstone that might work,” interjected Alsef.  “I will ask him on your behalf.”

Kham took another long swig.  “Jarel owes me,” he said.  “In the mean time, maybe I’ll just stay here.” He patted the hilt of Fleshripper, jutting from his hip in its sheathe.  “Maybe it will be a good incentive for all of us while we figure out the ‘reason’ Fleshripper chose me.”

“Don’t threaten Elabac like that!” said Alsef, rising to his feet.  “Illiir knows we have enough problems.”

“Problems?” asked Kham.

“Enough,” said Elabac.  “Alsef worries too much…I will…be fine.  He merely frets…that I will be pressed…into service again…for someone else’s…selfish ends. Now if you will…excuse us…we have much…work to do.”

Alsef helped the wizened dwarf slowly rose to his feet. 

Kham raised one finger to make a retort, but then thought better of it. 

“In that case,” he muttered, “I guess I’m not much different.” Then he took another swig of the wine.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 1a: Wild Geese and Red Herrings*

Alsef led Calactyte the lizard-like ss’ressen, Bijoux the cat-like fihali, and Vlad the human-like human down the streets of the dwarven city.  One example of superb stonework after another appeared before them, blurring together into a single magnificent tapestry.  Such was Solanos Mor.

“For little hairy people,” Cal looked up at the looming structures around them, “they build everything big.”

“They used to be big,” said Vlad.  “Dwarves were giants once.”

Soon, a large structure bellowing gouts of smoke and soot came into view.  

“The Legendary Blades forge,” said Vlad, a hint of awe in his voice.  “Master Elabac’s home.”  

Alsef waited patiently outside the building for a few moments until Beldin came out of the shop.

“Beldin!” said Vlad with a smile.  “Good to see you.”

Beldin nodded but did not return the smile.  He and Alsef began murmuring in eerie synchronization as they led them down a side street just before the shop.  They were ushered inside to a humble abode.  

Sebastian, the dark-kin, rose to his feet at their arrival.  Kham remained seated.  The two dwarves stopped chanting. 

They exchanged pleasantries.  Kham greeted them sullenly. 

“This is my home,” said Alsef.  “While you stay here, it is yours as well.”  He nodded to Beldin.  “You already know Beldin.  I have duties with my master, but Beldin shall serve as your escort within Solanos Mor.  He knows of my suspicions and can answer all your questions.  Good day, my friends, and may Illiirr illuminate the truth.”

Alsef bowed and left the house.  Beldin stepped forward to address them.  

“So what’s the problem?” asked Vlad.  “You think someone’s going to harm Elabac?”

“Alsef is a good dwarf and a master smith,” said Beldin.  “Elabac has trusted him to be his chief apprentice, and most feel he will succeed Elabac when the Master…passes on.”

“It’s amazing the old coot hasn’t passed on already,” muttered Kham.

Sebastian shot him a glare.  Beldin continued.  “However, Alsef’s skill is in the forge, not the mind.  He seems so certain that Elabac is in danger, but I have seen little to indicate this.”

“Indeed,” said Sebastian, “since Elabac’s return from Ventaka, he is under tighter guard than ever.”

“The only dwarves who could assault Elabac are his apprentices and Jarel, and they are all beyond reproach.  I fear Alsef’s hatred of the Reavers colors his thoughts.”

“He’s not the only one who hates Reavers,” said Vlad, rubbing his side.  “I remember Jarel. He should be able to help Elabac considerably.”

“Not as much as he might have in the past,” said Beldin. “Jarel recently suffered a terrible accident; his hands were crushed.  The cruel dwarves of Encali shunned him, as he was no longer of any use to them.  Jarel made his way through the tunnels to Solanos Mor, where he found redemption among the penitent. He now faithfully worships Illiir, and although his hands are crushed, his mind still functions.”

“Jarel’s been assisting Elabac,” said Kham.  “He’s been giving some of his enchanted jewels to be set in Elabac’s weapons.”

“Thanks to Jarel’s gems, Elabac’s blades seem to have improved even further,” said Sebastian.

“Wow,” said Vlad.

“Try to pick your jaw up off the ground,” snapped Kham.  “Sheesh, you don’t even get that excited about women.” 

Vlad closed his mouth.  “I already have a blade crafted by Master Elabac.” The big Milandisian’s hand patted the hilt of his longsword.  “There’s no finer weapons in the world.”

Beldin nodded. “We hope that Jarel and Master Elabac’s united efforts will be the key to unlocking the curse.”

“Curse?” asked Bijoux.

“That’s right, you’re not from Onara,” said Sebastian.  “Briefly, the dwarves you see before you were once giants among men, literally.  Illiir cursed the dwarves for their hubris, encasing them into their current forms. But there is hope: the first enclave to craft the perfect item will be released from the curse. Master Elabac is Solanos Mor’s best hope at achieving the perfect item.”

“But only one enclave is released from the curse?” asked Cal.

“Correct,” said Beldin.  “This is why the Encali enclave wars with us.  They are heretics, refusing to be penitent before Illiir and instead holding Sarish as the salvation of the dwarves.”

“That kind of thinking also created the Reaver enclave,” said Kham. “They permanently encase themselves in armor, so that if the curse were ever to be lifted they would be crushed by the transformation from dwarf to giant.”

“Reavers are no friend to Alsef,” said Beldin.  “They killed his parents and destroyed their soul shards.  It is the one bitterness that mars Alsef’s kindness.  It is that shared hatred that unites Alsef with Jarel.”

“I want to see Jarel,” said Kham.  “He and I have some business to discuss.”

Then he walked out of Alsef’s home.  

After a moment, Vlad said, “So why exactly is Kham here again?”


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 1b: Wild Geese and Red Herrings*

Beldin led them into the main forge, where the clanging of metal from dwarven hammers resounded in a deafening ring throughout the rooms.  Dwarves, mostly bare-chested and powerfully built, forged metal, working towards the creation of the perfect item. 

In the center of it all watched a corpulent older dwarf.  Jarel’s pitch-black beard was woven into two forks, each one capped with a beautiful gold crown.  His jovial face was out of place with the rest of his sinister features.  Most noticeable were his hands: both were twisted and gnarled, the fingers bent at unnatural angles.  

Beldin walked towards him, and in the loud room it was impossible to make out what they said. Eventually, Jarel nodded and walked outside of the forge. 

“Beldin says you desire to speak with me,” he said in a deep voice. “Come with me and we shall go to my home.”

Jarel and Beldin led them down the main thoroughfare, where the chants of penitent dwarves resounded of the walls of the vault.

Bijoux’s ears were flattened against her head.  “Why are they always chanting?”

Sebastian leaned over to whisper.  “I thought you knew.  While in the streets of the city, it is considered a high offense to utter any words that are not the Catechism of Light.”

Bijoux was about to respond, but Sebastian put one finger to his lips.  She kept silent.

Eventually, Jarel led them away from the main road to a modest stone house. Once they were all seated inside, Kham got right to the point.

“Long time, no see Jarel.  Still smuggling jewels in from Encali?”

Jarel chuckled.  “Smuggle is such a strong term.  I crafted the jewels; they are mine to give as I please.  However, my former brethren in Encali do not appreciate my new friendship with Solanos Mor.”

Beldin seemed unconvinced.  “Why are you helping our enclave?”

“Like most in Encali, I once reviled Illiir as the one who cursed the dwarves.  However, when I was turned out of Encali for being useless to them, the dwarves of Solanos Mor took me in.  They helped me where no others would.  I had a revelation.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “If only Quintus were hear to soak this up.”

“I realized the error of my ways,” said Jarel.  “I became a true follower of Illiir.  I believe Elabac has the best chance of creating the perfect item, and I see it as part of my penance to help him however I can.”

“If you’re such a follower of Illiir,” said Bijoux, “how come you weren’t chanting the Catechism of Light?”

Jarel appeared taken aback. After a nervous glance at Beldin, his voice became as steel. “You are mistaken, I assure you.  My faith is as strong and pure as any here in this enclave.”

Beldin glanced at Jarel, and a flicker of suspicion crossed his eyes.  

They left soon after.  

“I know what I heard—“ Bijoux began, but Beldin hushed her and resumed chanting the Catechism of Light.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 2a: Shadows in the Night*

It seemed like an eternity before they were able to speak again.  Beldin ushered them into Alsef’s abode.

Kham took his usual position in the corner of the room while the others stood around Bijoux and Beldin.

“I know what I heard,” said Bijoux.  “Or didn’t hear.  Jarel was not chanting.”

Beldin gazed at the ground.  “I hardly know where to begin.  I took an oath not to speak of this, but in light of recent revelations…I think perhaps there is a danger to Master Elabac.  If my suspicions are correct, I must speak, regardless of promises made.”

“What?” asked Sebastian.  “You knew something and didn’t tell me?”

Beldin couldn’t look Sebastian in the eye. “I swore an oath,” he said.  “And I stood by it, but Bijoux’s suspicions have confirmed my worst fears. Jarel has been gifting Elabac with his gems, but there is one, his finest, that is still in Encali.  He said he would retrieve it tonight and meet Elabac and Alsef in the tunnels between Solanos Mor and Encali to deliver it.”

Kham jolted out of his chair. “He’s doing that for me,” said Kham.  He looked around at the others, a little sheepish. “I need that gem.”

“I can’t believe you would not share this with me!” said Sebastian.  The dark-kin’s hands curled into fists. 

“Jarel asked that it be kept secret, for the dwarves of Encali would be furious if he knew their plans,” said Beldin.  “Alas I fear…I am afraid…perhaps his intentions were not so honorable.”

“No kidding,” said Kham.  “If you lie, you cheat.  If you cheat, you steal.”

“By now, Elabac and Alsef must be nearly there,” said Vlad.  “Do you know where the meeting is?”

“I do,” said Beldin.  “Come with me!”


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 2b: Shadows in the Night*

The tunnels may very well once have been grand.  Or perhaps they were always as dank.  

“These tunnels are rarely used,” said Beldin. “They are relics from a bygone era when Encali and Solanos Mor lived in peace.”

Despite their worn nature, the tunnels were free of vermin and filth that often congregated in such places.  Their trip, while far from pleasant, was not disgusting.

Beldin lit a torch and moved quickly, forcing the rest to hurry to keep up.  Tunnels branched out in many directions, but Beldin seemed to know exactly where he was headed.

Eventually, Beldin slowed and then stopped, motioning for the others to do the same.  The tunnels provided a strange acoustic effect, allowing them to hear voices as if they were very close.

Elabac’s voice said, “Jarel…is late.  I do hope…nothing…went wrong.”

“I am sure he is fine,” replied Alsef’s voice.  “He is very capable.”

They resumed walking, only to hear a set of heavy footsteps followed by Jarel’s deep voice.  “Elabac!  Well met, my brother.”

“Well met…Jarel. Thank you…for offering this…gift.  May I…see it?”

“You would be able to,” Jarel began, his voice turning sinister, ”if it existed.”

Beldin gasped.  “My worst fears are realized.  We must help them!”

As they moved forward, they heard Elabac’s demand.  “What is…the meaning…of this…Jarel?”

“It is simple, dear Elabac,” said Jarel.  “Tonight I take my revenge, both on my rival and on those who wronged me.”

They turned the bend in the passage to see a frightened Alsef standing next to an angry Elabac.  Armed dwarves burst from tunnels around them, quickly surrounding the two.  The dwarves had long black bears twisted into two forks, each capped with a golden crown like Jarel’s.

Elabac was furious.  “Encali!  What treachery…is this…that the Encali…would accost me?”

As the Encali dwarves cut off all avenues for Elabac to escape, one turned to Jarel.  “Good work.  This will be a great victory for the Encali.”

Jarel looked white as a sheet and shocked.  “What is the meaning of this?  This was not part of the plan!”

“Plans have changed,” the Encali dwarf said with a chuckle.  “Kill the apprentice, take the master.”

Alsef let out a yelp and ran back down the tunnels.  “I must get help!” he shouted.  “I must warn Solanos Mor!”

The noise he made caused the ring of dwarves to focus on Beldin and his companions. “Interlopers,” said the leader.  “You will not get past the Encali.  Take the Master.  Kill the rest.”

The line of dwarves separating them from Elabac, Alsef, and Jarel turned towards them, weapons drawn.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 2c: Shadows in the Night*

Kham flipped the cork off of a vial and lifted it to his lips. 

“Can’t you save the drinking for later?” asked Sebastian.

“Very funny,” said Kham.  “But this isn’t alcohol.”

Vlad drew his sword.  “What is it then?”

“Something way better,” said Kham.  “Just stay out of my way.”

With a bellow of rage, Beldin barreled into the midst of the dwarves.  He batted one dwarf aside with the flat of his axe and shouldered into another.  Vlad ran behind him, following up on Beldin’s momentum with his own flurry of blows. Cal looked around, shrugged his shoulders, and waded in after them.

“Beldin fights like a man possessed,” said Bijoux.

Sebastian stepped forward, palms spread outwards. “If Elabac dies, it will be on his head.  Fuco aspergo!”

A coruscating cone of colors sprang forth from his palm, encompassing the dwarves.  Two went down, clutching their eyes.

“I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about you,” said Kham to Sebastian. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my life back.”  With a mighty leap, Kham launched himself into the air.  The potion’s magic did its job, landing him on the other side of the dwarves.

Elabac was gone.

“What the hell?” he shouted.  Alsef’s body lay shattered on the ground.  Jarel had collapsed, weeping.  Kham leaned down to stare him in the face. “Where did they go?”

Jarel raised his voice in lament.  “What have I done? What have I done!” 

“You were releasing me from this damn sword.”  Kham took off his purple lenses, revealing pupiless white eyes. “I’m not going to ask you again.  Where did Elabac go?”

Jarel pointed at the wall.  “I have brought doom upon us!”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Kham put his lenses back on.  “Another secret door, great.” He began feeling all along the wet stone of the tunnel.  An Encali barreled up to him, axe raised…

Only to bounce off an invisible field.  The dwarf blinked in surprise while Kham muttered to himself about dwarven engineering, completely oblivious to the failed attack.

Beldin hacked the Encali dwarf down.  

“We’re too late,” said Sebastian, leaning over the body of Alsef.  “Alsef’s dead.”

“What of his soul shard?” asked Beldin.  Kham continued to run his fingers along the tunnel wall.

“His what?” asked Vlad.

“Soul shard,” repeated Beldin.  “Our souls are encased in them.  We can never truly die so long as our bodies are still intact.”

“They took it,” said Sebastian grimly.  

Beldin took a deep breath.  “This will mean war.  Solanos Mor will march on Encali.”

“It was not the Encali who were responsible for the attack,” said Jarel.  “It was the Reavers.  Always the Reavers.”

“Reavers, Encali, who gives a crap!” snarled Kham.  “If I could just figure out how to open this door…”

Beldin reached out and pressed a slightly discolored rock on the cave face.  The wall slid away to reveal a dark passage.

Kham glared at Beldin.  “Stupid dwarven construction,” he muttered.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 3: Mountains from Molehills*

“That passage will do you no good,” said Jarel.  “They have a teleport scroll.  You will never reach them in time.”

“We must try,” said Sebastian.  “And you will help us.”  He took a menacing step forward.

“Why would you betray Elabac?” asked Beldin.  “He took you in.  He trusted you!”

Jarel wiped tears from his eyes.  “I was jealous,” he said.  “Jealous of his prestige.  Of his influence.  My spies told me that he would be traveling to Ventaka, so I informed some contacts I had in the Reavers.  They set up an ambush, but…”

“But we stopped them,” said Vlad.  

Jarel nodded. “I sold my services to the House Otrecto, who betrayed me.  After you rescued me from their hideout, I returned to the Reavers with the expectation of a warm welcome. Instead, they accused me of betraying them to Elabac and crushed my hands as punishment.” He held up his gnarled and twisted hands.  “To get revenge on Elabac and regain the respect of the Encali enclave, I informed the Reavers that I could again deliver him to them.”

Kham spat.  “You’re not the brightest tool in the shed. You told Beldin, of all people, about your plans.”

“I intended you to hear about how Reavers attacked us in the tunnels and killed Elabac,” said Jarel.  “Once Solanos Mor found out, and especially if outsiders like you,” he nodded towards Cal and Bijoux, “knew about it, Solanos Mor would be forced to wage war on the Reavers.  The Reavers would be wiped out in the process and Solanos Mor would be weakened.”

“But the Reavers were one step ahead of you,” said Beldin.

“They disguised themselves, and now I have brought doom upon my own enclave! The Encali enclave is not strong enough to resist Solanos Mor.”

Cal sniffed in Jarel’s direction.  “I haven’t eaten in awhile,” he said.  “Let’s kill him.”

“Wait!” said Jarel.  “I can help.  When I was in contact with the Reavers before, I took the liberty of obtaining a scroll of teleport, keyed to their encampment.”  He pulled a scroll and a blood red gem out of his vest.  When Jarel held the gem up, it refracted in the torchlight. 

Kham snatched the gem out of his hand.  “This is what Elabac came for.”  He blinked.  “Gods be damned!  Now I’ve got the gem and not the dwarf!”

“If you hold up the gem and spill your blood upon it, you will be transported back here.  However, you must be outside of any structure to use it.”

Sebastian took the scroll from him.  

“Why would they take him alive?” asked Bijoux.  “What good is Elabac to them?”

Kham sighed.  “The leader wants to force Elabac to make finer weapons.”

“That’s true,” said Jarel. “The leader of the Reavers is a master of Nol Dappan weaponsmithing.  Considering the Nol Dappans craftsmanship almost equals Elabac’s, the commander will want to combine his expertise with Elabac’s skill to create the ultimate weapon.” He looked curiously at Kham.  “How did you know that?”

“You’re not the only one guilty of being selfish,” said Kham in low tones.

Then Sebastian read the scroll and they disappeared.


----------



## talien

*Part 4a: Blade and Scythe*

It appeared that they were still in the Corlathian Mountains, though they were outside in a secluded rocky gorge.  The narrow path before them opened into a natural clearing amidst the jagged peaks, just large enough to hold a small Reaver camp.  Their tents were visible, and every so often they could catch a glimpse of one walking to and fro.

Bijoux clasped her claws over her ears and closed her eyes.

“What…?” asked Vlad.  Then he heard it too.  Screams.

Elabac was still alive, it seemed, for they could hear his unmuffled cries echoing throughout the camp.  

Sebastian put one hand on Bijoux’s shoulder. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”

Bijoux nodded and pointed to the north side of the camp.  Then she clasped her hands over her ears again.

Kham popped another vial.  “I’ll take care of this personally.”  He swigged the contents and promptly faded from sight.

Beldin moved to follow but Sebastian stopped him.  “Your armor will give us away,” he said. Sebastian frowned at Vlad. “You too.”

“I will not stand by listening to this,” said Beldin.  His face was turning red.  

“We have a better chance if we strike with stealth first,” said Sebastian.  “Cal and I will sneak into the camp.  Stay with Bijoux. When the alarm is raised, come as quickly as you can.”

“That’s not much of a plan,” said Vlad.

“No,” said Sebastian with a weak smile, “but it will have to do.”

Then the unlikely duo ducked into the gorge and out of sight.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 4b: Blade and Scythe*

Elabac was stripped from the waist up and tied to a wooden chair.  On either side of Elabac was a dwarf holding a hot poker. Burns on Elabac’s flesh testified to the torture.  

A sinister-looking dwarf stood in front of him.  His ruddy brown skin was encrusted with grime and ash.  He was shaven and beardless. A scar ran down the back of his scalp.   Two more dwarves flanked their leader.

Kham recognized him.  It was Lorund Ranenor, a Nol Dappan dwarf. 

Lorund cleared his throat.  “I tire of your stubbornness.  It is obvious your ages spent over the forge have toughened you.  How willing would you be to allow one you loved to be sent to oblivion?  Will you craft a trophy for me?”

Elabac looked up, defeat in his eyes.  But still he wearily shook his head.

“Pity,” said Lorund.  As he pulled his arm back, Kham could see Alsef’s soul shard on an upright log before him. 

A powerful blow from the cruelly shaped blade shattered the gem into a multitude of fragments.  Even before some of the shards imbedded themselves in Elabac, he let out a scream of newfound terror and anguish.  

The scream was joined by Lorund’s bellow of surprise as Fleshripper jutted from his side.  Kham appeared next to him.

The guards spun to retaliate, only to face a wave of colors emanating from Sebastian’s open palms.  Two of them collapsed, blinded.

Cal waded into combat with a roar.  The two dwarves flanking Lorund were momentarily surprised, but the ss’ressen’s charge snapped them out of it. 

Lorund spun to face his attacker, but Kham had collapsed to the ground, Fleshripper in hand.  He raised his axe, only to recognize the armored Milandisian who entered the tent.

“You!” shouted Lorund.  “You killed Neyadis!  I’ll gut you from crotch to craw!”

With a bellow of rage, the dwarf charged towards his opponent, stepping over Kham. And all the while, Kham dreamed.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 4c: Blade and Scythe*

The moment Fleshripper pierced Lorund, the world around Kham faded away.

Kham felt as if he were rushing very fast, the wind whistling by him, stinging his eyes.  Fleshripper was the only thing that felt solid anymore, its weight secure in his hands, anchoring him in its reality. He found comfort in its presence.  

The blood from the dwarf was still wet upon the blade, and yet Fleshripper called out for more.

Kham could hear its voice in his ear, goading him to rid the world of the evil creatures.  He felt new power, almost an awakening surge from Fleshripper.  

Then, with a jolt strong enough to almost throw him to the ground, he found himself exactly where he was before.  On the battlefield, with scarcely a moment having passed.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 4d: Blade and Scythe*

Vlad yanked his blade out of Lorund’s corpse. 

“Now that I know about these soul shards,” Vlad placed Lorund’s soul shard on the log where Alsef’s had been shattered, “I’m going to be sure that the next time I kill a dwarf, he stays dead.” He raised his sword overhead.

“Please,” wheezed Elabac.  Sebastian worked to free him from the chair.  “Haven’t we had…enough…carnage?”

“Take their shards,” said Beldin. “We will hand them over to the Solanos Mor authorities.”

Cal pawed through the bodies.

Bijoux’s head poked into the tent.  “I do not mean to alarm you, but the Reavers now know of our presence.”

Kham rose unsteadily to his feet.  “Maybe the sight of a flying cat gave us away.”

Bijoux seemed unflustered.  “Perhaps they noticed that the screaming had stopped.”  She looked with sympathy upon the old dwarf.  “I know I did.”

“No time to debate,” said Vlad. He slashed open the back of the tent.  “Let’s go.”

Kham stepped through the opening. “You wanted blood, Fleshripper? You got it.” He cut his palm on Fleshripper’s blade.  His hand dripped with blood.

Then he pull out the red stone from his pocket and they were gone.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 5a: Vengeance is Mine*

As soon as Kham’s blood hit the gem, he felt a sensation like a jerk at his gut.  He suddenly had a terrible notion that he was experiencing what it would be like for a dwarf’s soul to enter a soul shard.  It was cold, dark and terrible.

But then he saw a light that expanded and spread over millions of facets, like a diamond.  It filled his whole consciousness.  He broke through the facets and found himself standing back in Jarel’s house, with Jarel himself before them.  The gem had pulled all of them with Kham; judging from some of their reactions, they found it even less pleasant than Kham did.

Jarel looked at each of them, then at Elabac.  His eyes filled with tears and he threw himself at Elabac’s feet, overcome with grief.

“Forgive me, Master!” he cried.  “I see now.  I see now what I’ve done!”

Elabac looked at Beldin, Sebastian, and Kham.  “We shall have…to do something…about him.  He seems… to finally…have discovered…true sorrow…for his wrongs.  Perhaps…he could be brought…to Illiir’s light.  What do you think…my friends?  What shall we do…about Jarel?”

Sebastian frowned.  “He betrayed all of us under the guise of repentance.” He avoided looking at Beldin.  “He used Solanos Mor’s people against itself and nearly caused a war.  If that doesn’t deserve death, I don’t know what does.”

Beldin shook his head.  “Illiir is a merciful god.  If Jarel wishes for a second chance, then he should have it.”

Elabac turned to look at Kham.  “That leaves you…Kham.”

Kham bit his lip.  “Everybody has their problems,” he said after a long moment.  “Sometimes, the pain’s so bad you’ll do anything to make it stop, no matter who suffers.”  He took a swig of a new wineskin.  “I’m no more innocent than Jarel in that regard.  If the dwarf says he’s sorry, let him live.”

The old dwarf patted Kham affectionately on the back.  Much was said without being spoken.

“So be it,” said Elabac.  “Jarel will be…allowed to search…for the peace of Illiir.”

“Thank you for your mercy!” Jarel fell to his knees, weeping.

“You have passed…a test,” said Elabac to Kham.  “Now…we must perform…the bonding ritual…”

“Ritual?” asked Kham.


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Part 5b: Vengeance is Mine*

The ritual seemed to take forever.  Elabac and Beldin stood in front of a kneeling Kham.  Blood from Fleshripper—Lorund’s blood—was smeared on Kham’s forehead.

“As Fleshripper has been anointed with the blood of Solanos Mor’s enemies,” said Beldin, “so too have I anointed you, Kham val’Abebi.” He lifted up the blood-red gem and placed it into a groove on the hilt of Fleshripper.  “I place the Gem of Sarish’s Oath into Fleshripper; as Sarish’s Oath merges with the blade, may the blade merge with your soul, so that together become a tool of Illiir’s vengeance.  Henceforth, let Fleshripper be known as Grizaldrengi, ‘Slayer of Poor Meat’ in dwarvish.”

As the Gem of Sarish’s Oath was set into Fleshripper, it seemed to expand to fill his whole consciousness.  The many facets of Kham’s world shattered into a smoky image within.  

Through the haze and mist of what he was sure must be centuries, Kham could see a barrel-chested dwarf, his face contorted in rage and hate, his body taut with muscle from years of passionate training and denial.  Fleshripper was in his hands.

Before him, hordes of Reavers came, and Fleshripper slew them all.  Fleshripper almost glowed with what seemed to be a holy light at is cut through the ranks of the evil Reavers.

The scene became smoky again, and Kham could see the dwarf, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies, finally succumbing to his wounds and falling.  A female val walked up to him; Kham was certain she was a paladin.

The paladin kneeled, tears running down her cheeks. She closed the lifeless eyes of the dwarf. Though Kham could not hear her voice, he was certain she was performing last rites. 

Then she looked at the last Reaver killed, Fleshripper still impaled in the dwarf’s chest.  It had driven a hole through his welded armor.  With a look of determination, she took Fleshripper, lifting it high, as it hummed with holy power.  

Then the scene became smoky again and Kham was back in Solanos Mor.

”Great,” said Kham.  “More baggage.”


----------



## talien

*Hand of the Master - Conclusion*

With Elabac’s safe return and the true threat revealed, the dwarves of Solanos Mor returned to their normal lives.  They were on a ship bound for Freeport at the behest of Brother Egil.

“Congratulations,” said Vlad to Beldin.  “I heard you were made Elabac’s apprentice.”

Beldin nodded.  “It is not the way I would have preferred to gain the position,” he said.  “But it is an honor nonetheless.”

“We should be congratulating you,” Sebastian said to Vlad.  “Scouting parties reported that the Reavers abandoned the camp with the death of their commander.”

Vlad shrugged.  “I had no idea that crazy elf I killed back in Freeport was the commander’s lover.  What she saw in that dwarf, I have no idea.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time an elf took a liking to someone unlikable,” said Kham with a smirk. 

“Perhaps we all owe our gratitude to you, Kham,” said Beldin.  “Jarel has been quite a boon.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement.  “He revealed all he knows of the Reavers.  Many dwarves are still angry at the Reavers for twice attempting to kill Elabac, but nothing can be done until they are found again.”

“Jarel finally seems to have found peace,” said Beldin.  “And what about you, Kham?  Did you find what you came to Solanos Mor for?”

Kham took a deep breath.  “I wouldn’t call it peace, exactly.”

“What did you find then?” asked Bijoux.

“War,” said Kham, patting the hilt of Fleshripper.  “I found war.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 21: Terror in Freeport - Introduction*

This is the second in the Freeport series of modules, "Terror in Freeport," written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Bijoux (fihali druid) played by Melissa Tresca
·	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca (http://www.creepyportfolio.com)  
·	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
·	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Ah, Freeport.  Freeport’s an adventurer city, ill defined (except that, ya know, it has pirates and cultists) but accepting of everyone, including Calactyte the big ss’ressen lizard and Bijoux the weird flying cat girl.  So it’s only natural that those two should make it their home.

More importantly, it’s Kham’s home turf.  That can be a good or bad thing, depending on the circumstances. 

The highlight of this adventure was the death trap.  I put the pressure on by using an hourglass, pounding music, and screaming, “NEW ROUND!  WHAT DO YOU DO?” Fortunately…well, you’ll see for yourself.

I like this adventure less than the first in the Freeport trilogy, mostly because it has a bit more railroading and gullibility on the part of the PCs. There’s nothing quite like having a plot device lead to a certain death trap, and somewhere in between you track an impostor through a sewer to a temple that just happens to be under the main bad guy’s house. Okay, sure, whatever.

Mostly, this adventure is just a set up for the third adventure in the series.  Given how it ends, you really can’t just have the PCs leave town without questioning their sanity. Not that any of them are necessarily sane…


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Prologue*

“Nice sword,” said Kham, admiring his Milandisian companion’s blade.

Vlad beamed like a new father at his reforged longsword, laid out on the table at the Pale Plate.  “Elabac called it ‘Grungronazharr.’ It means ‘Forged of Fire.’”

“He gave all of us weapons,” said Beldin at his side.  A dwarven waraxe was strapped to his axe.  “Master Elabac was very generous.”

“At least this time he didn’t turn down immortality,” muttered Kham. 

“Speaking of past mistakes,” said Vlad.  He nodded towards a man who had just entered the room.  

Brother Egil hailed them with a stiff wave of his hand.  He crossed through the tables, moving quickly, his eyes darting from patron to patron.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Egil, taking a seat against the wall.  He addressed Cal. “Lucius asks after you.” He turned to address the others.  “I trust you are all well.”

“I do not believe we have been formally introduced.  I am Sebastian Arnyal.” Sebastian indicated his dwarf companion with the back of his hand.  “This is Beldin, recently Master Elabac’s apprentice. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Kham leaned back in his chair.  “Speak for yourself.”

“Likewise,” said Egil.  “Where is Ilmarė?”

“With Quint—“ said Kham.  Vlad elbowed him. “Not here.”

“Oh,” said Egil.  “I am glad that any of you came at all.”  His gaze wandered.

“Your note was urgent,” said Kham, irritated by Egil’s lack of focus.  “What’s up?”

Egil took a deep breath and leaned close.  “Forgive me for being distracted.  I believe someone is trying to undo the good work you’ve done for Freeport.”

“What do you mean?” asked Vlad.

Egil glanced nervously around the room before continuing.  “Things…have been happening.  I’m not sure I can be any more specific than that.”

Kham took a sip from his mug.  “Try.”

“Over the past month, I’ve been sensing a change in the atmosphere. I’ve lived here all my life, but now the city feels strange to me.  The street seems full of eyes but not faces.  I notice movement at the limits of my vision.  I see shapes at the window when I’m alone in a room.”

“You hear footfalls behind you on the street.” Kham peered at Egil over his lenses. “But when you turn there’s nothing.  Right?”

Egil looked at Kham curiously.  “Yes.”

“I know the feeling,” said Kham.

“Perhaps it’s only nerves,” said Sebastian.  “Freeport can do that to you.”

“I could almost believe that,” said Egil.  “But then there was the intruder.”

“Where?” asked Vlad.

“I was with Lucius when I saw it.”

“How’s Lucius?” asked Cal.

“Lucius has been…well, it’s been difficult for him to readjust.  I’m sure you can understand.  First the possession, then the kidnapping…we try to make him as comfortable as possible, but there are some things beyond even prayer.  For days he has been collapsing at his desk—he becomes feverish and faints dead away.  One of us always takes him home after such a spell.”

“Yeah, tough life,” said Kham.  He waved the waitress over to refill his mug. “You were saying?”

“Last week was my turn.  I laid him down on his cot and sat to catch my breath.  I just closed my eyes for a moment—then all of a sudden I was awake, and it was the middle of the night. I started to rise, but some instinct told me not to.  I sat with my eyes half-open, waiting for them to adjust to the dark. I felt its presence before I saw it: a patch of dark gliding across the room like the shadow of a cloud.  I was too terrified to breathe. “What air I could force down carried a curious odor—something clean but…dense.  Something like water on rocks.  Something like…”

Egil’s gaze wandered over to Calactyte.  

The big lizard blinked back at him.  “What?”

“Like a serpent,” Egil said quickly.  “I watched this figure move about the room.  Poking through drawers.  Examining books.”

“Well, we know it wasn’t this serpent,” said Kham, referring to Calactyte’s illiteracy.

“Huh?” asked Cal.

“I couldn’t imagine what it wanted to steal, since our order takes a vow of poverty.  Then it found what it was looking for—a long roll of parchment.  It stashed the parchment in the folds of its cape and left as silently as it had come.”

“Did you tell Lucius?” asked Vlad.

Egil shook his head.  “I can’t bring myself to tell him.  I fear it may destroy what’s left of his sanity.  I am afraid for myself also, and for the city.”

“Freeport?” asked Bijoux.  “It seems like a tough city.”

“You suspect the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign,” said Sebastian.  “Don’t you?”

“I don’t believe the Council really is cleaning out the former lair of the Brotherhood,” said Egil. “I suspect something sinister at work here, more than mere carelessness.  Milos lived among us too long in a false shape.  He convinced my order that he was a dedicated worker—not to mention human.  Who knows how many other forms he took, how many other people he deceived?  And who knows how many others of his kind are here now?”

“You’re starting to sound like Dril,” said Kham.  He indicated Cal with a slosh of his mug. “Not all the scaly folk are bad.” 

Cal’s eyes narrowed to slits.  “The ssanu are,” said the ss’ressen. “If they’re here in Freeport, I’ll hunt every one of them down.”

“Thank you,” said Egil.  “I cannot rest until this matter is settled.  I would like to engage your services once again—to find out the real situation at the ssanu temple and to uncover just what kind of inroads Milos made in town.”

“How much?” asked Vlad.  

Egil looked taken aback.  “One hundred imperials each, plus expenses.”

“We’ll do it,” said Kham. “Sounds like the gator’s in for free.”

“And you, Kham?” asked Egil.

“Just pay my tab,” he said.  He leaned closer to whisper to Egil.  “And then when this is all over, I want you to share how you can afford nearly seven hundred imperials when the Brothers of Althares take a vow of poverty.”

Egil merely nodded back.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 1a: The Marquis Moon*

The Marquis Moon was two stories of haphazard brickwork in the Old City.  Inside, the mood was subdued.  

“You sure this is the place?” asked Vlad.

Kham nodded.  “There are better places to eat and sleep in the city, and everybody knows it.  But Milos went by the name of Devlin, and I traced the room he rented to here.”

Two drunken dwarves conferred quietly in one corner.  

“Oh, hi Kham,” said a scowling fellow behind the desk.  “Haven’t seen you here in awhile.” He never bothered to make eye contact, instead preferring to pick at his fingernails with a knife.  He seemed to get a leisurely kick out of it. 

“Hi Ficca.  We need to see Devlin’s room.”

“That’s nice,” said Ficca.

Kham sighed and plunked some coins on the table. Keys flew back at him so fast that he barely snatched them out of the air. 

“Great security,” said Vlad as they climbed the steps to Milos’ former room.  “No wonder they had snakes living here.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 1b: The Marquis Moon*

“Seems like the snakes like things neat,” said Kham, looking around the room.

The quarters were small; a single room perhaps twenty feet by twenty feet. 

“I get the impression he drew a map of it when he moved in to use every inch efficiently,” said Sebastian.

The walls were invisible, hidden behind bookcases heaped with scrolls and shelves arranged with half-melted ritual candles, leaden icons and a large collection of brightly polished rocks.  Staves, canes, and other ornamental trifles filled every alcove and fit snugly against the masonry.  

Bijoux sniffed the air.  “Incense,” she said.  She pointed one claw at the stove in the center of the room. 

There was little furniture. No bed, for one thing; the floor near the stove was strewn with thick, tasseled pillows.  There was no desk either, although there was a portable writing stand pushed against one of the bookcases.  Milos’ clothes were folded neatly and stacked against one wall.

“Spread out,” said Beldin.  “Look for anything unusual.”

It didn’t take long.  Sebastian held up a book. “I found this behind the shelves.”

The book was titled, “An Accounte of Metalls Base and Pure.”  Sebastian handed it to Beldin.

“I’ve read this book before,” said the dwarf.  “But it didn’t have this on the back.” He displayed the back cover.

Sketched onto the back page of the book was a full-page drawing of a lighthouse, covered with arcane mathematical formulas; arrows pointed to a number of blocks on the structure.  In the margins was a recurring doodle: the letter “V” superimposed on a circle.

“Some of the books have been replaced,” said Bijoux.  She ran one claw along the spine of “A Monthe Among the Horse-Rats.” “Some are covered in dust, others are not.”

“I think we need to have another chat with my friend Ficca,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 1c: The Marquis Moon*

“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone go into Devlin’s room?” asked Kham.  He was waffling between shooting the man in the face and bribing him with more gold.

Before Ficca could provide another lame excuse, a dwarf staggered over to them.  “Hey, Beldin!  Congratsh! I heard you were jusht made Elabac’s apprentish!”  The dwarf threw one arm around Beldin, who looked less than pleased at the attention.

“Uh, thanks.  Do I know you?”

“Oh shure, everybody knowsh you!” said the dwarf, completely misunderstanding Beldin.  “I couldn’t help hearin’ you ashkin’ after goingsh-on upstairsh.  Could be I know a thing or two.”

Kham was about to say something, but Sebastian interrupted.  “I know how to handle dwarves,” he said with a smirk.  “Ficca, please refill mister…”

“Rottenjonesh,” said the dwarf.  “You can call me Rottenjonesh.”

“Mister Rottenjones’ mug.”

Ficca shrugged and refilled Rottenjones’ mug with something from a pitcher.  

“I wash headin’ up to me room one night, maybe a couple o’ weeksh ago, when I bumpsh into a couple of shtrange-lookin’ fellersh leaving that room.”

“Did they say anything?” asked Kham.

“They told me to shod off, is what they shaid.  They shaid they wash on official Council business.” Rottenjones rolled his eyes.  

Sebastian ordered another mug for the dwarf.  

After a long, slow slurp, Rottenjones continued.  “I remember shomethin’ elshe now.  Took me back to my boyhood, it did.  They shmelled like the tunnelsh of Sholanos Mor.”

“Let me guess.” Kham jabbed a thumb in Cal’s direction. “They smelled like him?”  

Rottenjones nodded vigorously. 

“Hey!” said Cal.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 2: A Shout in the Street*

“Help!” shouted a plaintive cry in front of the Marquis Moon.

Vlad searched for the source.  “There!” he pointed at a spindly-looking teenager clutching a messenger’s satchel.  He was surrounded by three grinning orcs with very large weapons.

Kham leisurely inserted himself into the crowd.  “Hey now, let’s everyone calm down a second.”

The kid ran behind Beldin and cowered.

“Calm down?” asked one of the orcs.  He laughed, long and loud.  “This be none o’ yer business. If ye know what’s good fer ye, ye’ll stay ou’ o’ ‘t.”

Kham sighed.  “You really don’t want to do this.” Vlad and Cal stepped up behind him, weapons drawn.  

The messenger took off down the street at a full clip in the opposite direction.

One of the orcs swung at Kham’s head with his axe, but Fleshripper was out in a flash to block the attack. 

“This is ridiculous,” said Sebastian.  “Fuco aspergo!”

The two orcs to either side of the leader went down hard as Sebastian’s color magic washed over them.  Then Kham lunged, and Fleshripper pierced the leader’s shoulder.  The orc fell to the ground.  

”This is too easy.” Kham pulled back from the melee to look around.  “Something’s wrong.”

“The book!” shouted Beldin.  “It’s missing!”

“Damn it, the oldest trick in the book,” muttered Kham.  He took off in pursuit of the kid.

“Bijoux,” shouted Sebastian, “track that boy down!”

Bijoux launched herself into the air.  

Sebastian huffed alongside Kham.  “Why would they steal that book?”

“I don’t know,” said Kham, easily keeping pace. “But I bet the kid will.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 3: Stonewalling*

They worked their way through side streets until coming upon the rotting hovel that once held a terrible secret.  It hadn’t changed much since they saw it last—a one-story structure of knotted plans with bricks for windows.  The only difference was the street scene.  Three soldiers were standing guard at the front entrance.

Bijoux landed lightly at the top of the bricked up house.  She pointed downwards with one claw.  The fihali had tracked the boy’s scent to this location.

Sebastian stepped up to the three guardsmen.  “Let us pass.”

“Says who?” asked the leader of the guardsmen.

Sebastian squinted at the armband on the guardsman’s left arm.  A “V” was superimposed on the city seal.  He hesitated for a moment.

“Chief Councilor Verlaine,” interjected Vlad.  

“Yes,” Sebastian repeated.  “Verlaine.” Sebastian indicated the large ss’ressen and the stumpy dwarf that flanked him on either side.  “I’m not going to ask you again. Let us pass. We are in pursuit of a criminal. Surely, you saw him run through here.”

The guards exchanged looks.  

“You are wasting precious time,” snarled Sebastian, all business.  “Or we can just report to Verlaine that you delayed us in apprehending a fugitive.”

Finally, the leader nodded and let them pass.

Inside the former temple, not much had visibly changed.  Bijoux was sniffing the ground while Kham kicked up dust.

“How did you two get here so fast?” asked Sebastian.

“Secret entrance around the back,” said Kham.  

“I flew in through a hole in the roof,” said Bijoux. “Look here.  There are faint footprints and marks on the floor.”

There were pinpoint holes in the dust where toes should be, indicating keenly sharp claws and big, sweeping grooves that could only be made by a tail.

Kham looked down.  “And they’re clearly not human.”

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

“Now we go to my favorite place,” said Kham.

“And that is?” asked Sebastian.

Kham walked down the steps out of sight. “The wine cellar.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 4: The Temple of the Unspeakable One*

“Well, it all still looks the same,” said Vlad.

The erstwhile seat of the Unspeakable One’s cult sat empty—yet somehow it was more ominous for all that.  The altar and statue had been hauled off, with gashes in the stone floor marking their exit.  The yellow symbol that once graced the far wall was chiseled away and removed.  There was even some preliminary chipping at the frescoes lining the room. 

Something heavy dropped to the ground.  Two ssanu dumped what they were carrying: a large chest.  Behind them, a human woman garbed in black leather pointed a staff at them.  “Intruders!  Kill them!”

“How authentic.  They got every detail right,” said Kham with a wry smile, “down to the raving cultists.”  

Calactyte lifted his axe overhead.  His earflaps fanned outwards; muscles bulged.  With a bellow of rage, Cal charged towards the four ssanu.

“What’s wrong with Cal?” asked Sebastian.

“The big lizard don’t like snakes,” said Kham.  “Go figure.” 

Kham’s usual smirk suddenly faded. With slow precision, he grabbed Fleshripper and lifted it overhead, mimicking Cal’s actions. Then he charged after the cult leader.

“Not Kham too!” shouted Sebastian.  “What’s gotten into everybody?”

Beldin and Vlad looked at each other.  “Careful,” said Vlad.  “Don’t look into their eyes.” Then Milandisian and dwarf waded into the fray, weapons held high.

Sebastian blinked.  “Why?” he asked, peering at the melee.  “I don’t see…”

One of the ssanu’s head bobbed.  Its coal-like eyes focused on Sebastian.  They locked gazes. 

“Kneel before the Unssspeakable One’sss glory!” it hissed.

Bijoux blinked and began to kneel. 

“Your mind powers will not work on me, snake,” shouted the dark-kin. “Ustilo radius!” Two beams of fire coruscated from his outstretched fingers and blasted the ssanu square in the face.  It flailed backwards with a hiss.

Bijoux stopped in mid-kneel and shook her head.  “What just happened?

“An old ssanu mind trick,” muttered Sebastian. “Don’t meet their gaze.”

Kham ducked the sweep of the lead cultist’s lajatang.  “The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign will bring the Unspeakable One to Onara!” she shrieked.

“When you see him,” Kham pulled back Fleshripper. “You can tell him I said ‘hi.’” Then he plunged the blade through the woman’s torso.  With another wail, she slipped off the blade in a pool of gore.

When Kham finally calmed down to look around him, the other ssanu were all dead.  Cal continued to hack at the bloody corpse of one of them.  Beldin was crouched over the chest they were carrying. 

The dwarf held up a brick to the light.  “There’s a seam in the middle of these bricks.” He snapped it with some effort. In the center of each half was a replica of the temple’s strange yellow symbol, printed in shimmering gold ink. 

“Bricks?” asked Vlad.  “What does the Brotherhood want with bricks?”

“They’re building blocks for a summoning circle,” said Sebastian.  “Verlaine’s book had drawings of a lighthouse. They’re going to use it to summon the Unspeakable One!”

“There’s an address on the side of the crate,” said Beldin.  “100 Wave Avenue.”

“Of course.” Kham wiped the gore of Fleshripper with care and sheathed it.  “Of course it would be that address.”

“You know where this place is?” asked Vlad.

“Yep,” said Kham.  “That’s Chief Councilor Verlaine’s house.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 5: Office of Public Records*

“I’m not sure why you’re carrying that thing around,” said Kham to Beldin.

“I’ve never seen a weapon like this before,” said Beldin of the sickle-shaped lajatang. “It could come in handy.”

They were standing in the Office of Public Records, a grandiose title for a disorganized collection of papers stuffed into an old storehouse in the Warehouse District.  

“I didn’t know pirates kept records,” said Sebastian.

“They don’t,” said a beady-eyed man.  “What’s here be mostly recent history.  What’s ‘t t’ ye?”

Sebastian smiled at him. “We heard you were the ship’s cook on the Shrike under Captain Baldric.”

“Aye.”

“And that you got kicked off for trying to boil a cat.”

Reed’s beady eyes shifted to Bijoux.  “Aye,” he said a little more slowly.

“Captain Baldric mentioned that you might have access to records about a certain Councilor.”

“Which one?”

Sebastian lowered his voice.  “Verlaine.”

“Aye.  I’ve got records on th’ lad.”

“So then can we see them?”

“No.”

Sebastian slid two imperials towards Reed. “How about now?” 

“Ye`ve got t' be kiddin' me,” Reed didn’t even look at them.  “That`s nay enough t' pay fer a drink.”

Kham plunked down two pieces of metal next to the coins. 

Reed squinted.  “What’s that supposed to be?”

They were bullets. Reed’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Who do ye think ye be—Verlaine’s thugs?”

BLAM!

“Ye shot me!” Reed fell to the ground, clutching his thigh. “Ye shot me in th’ leg!”

Kham’s picked up the two bullets from the pile.

Sebastian shook his head in disbelief.  He leaned down and put one sympathetic hand on Reed’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, he’s a little hot-headed sometimes.  This healing potion will make the pain go away.”

Kham inserted one bullet into one of his pistols, staring at Reed the whole time.

Reed reached for the potion vial, but Sebastian held it out of his reach. 

“I’m sure you’ll be so grateful that you’ll show us the records we were looking for.” Behind Sebastian, Kham inserted the other bullet into one of his pistols. “I recommend you make up your mind quickly.”

“Aye,” said Reed.  The record keeper gulped down the potion’s contents.

Cal turned to Bijoux. “And they say I’m scary.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

The thing I like best about Kham is how subtle he is.


----------



## talien

I was pretty shocked myself when Kham's player shot the guy.  At that point he was getting aggravated with the railroading part of the adventure, and the guy was so detestable that he didn't seem worth time.

What really was hilarious was how Sebastian stepped in as the "good cop" and offered the guy a healing potion afterwards.  This has become a running joke in campaigns since.  

I should point out this is just the beginning.  When a major NPC in Freeport goes after Kham...well, you can probably guess how he reacts.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 6a: The Shakedown*

“From what I can gather from the records,” said Sebastian, “Verlaine’s men were looking fro street maps in the Eastern District and Scurvytown. They wanted to see how the sewers in the Eastern District match up with the Merchant District and the rest of town.”

They stood in front of the Office of Public Records.  Most of the city’s denizens gave them a wide berth.

“Let me guess,” said Kham.  “They lead right from the bricked up house to Verlaine’s home.”

“I’m afraid so. As for Verlaine…”

“What about him,” said Kham. “Verlaine took office right after Anton Drac was assassinated. Before that, he was just a typical sailing merchant. Drac’s lackey through and through.”

Beldin swung the lajatang around thoughtfully.  “Verlaine diversified his holdings too, including a big chunk of Freeport’s masonry trade.  Strange business for a ship merchant to get into.”

“Unless you’re looking to build a lighthouse,” said Vlad.

“Right,” said Sebastian.  “According to the records, Verlaine is currently overseeing a number of projects for the Sea Lord, including construction of the lighthouse. But that’s not the bad part.”

“There’s a bad part?” asked Vlad.

“Milos was the main consultant on the project.”

“Of course he was,” said Kham.  

“Company,” said Cal.

Six guardsmen led by a captain were approaching.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” said Sebastian.  “What seems to be the problem?”

“Your presence is requested at the Courts by Chief Councilor Verlaine in connection with your unlawful entry into a restricted area!”

“He’s right,” Kham said nonchalantly.  “We did do that.” His hands inched towards the folds of his jacket.

“You are also charged with impersonating an officer,” said the guard captain.  One hand was on the hilt of his sword.  “Now will you come peacefully or do we have to use force?”

Kham’s pistols were out in an instant, pointed at the guard captain’s chest. BLAM! BLAM!  

The captain fell backwards in a red and black spray of blood and smoke. His hand reached for his sword, but Kham had two more pistols out in the blink of an eye.  

BLAM! BLAM!

Everyone froze in shock.  Then Cal, Beldin, and Vlad drew their weapons, just in time to face off against the angry guardsmen.  Bijoux leaped back and swung her sling overhead.

“What did you do that for?” shouted Sebastian.  He pointed his palms towards the guards. “You just shot a Captain of the Guard!”

“Relax,” said Kham.  “They’re just more of Verlaine’s thugs.”  He returned the two pistols to their holsters and drew two more.  “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Fuco aspergo!” shouted Sebastian.  Two guardsmen fell to the ground, unconscious.

Only one guard was still left standing.  He fled for his life.

“Now we’re in for it,” said Vlad.  “They’re going to come looking for us!”

“Over here!” said a familiar voice.  It was Brother Egil, waving to them from an alley.  “Kham, I’m so glad I found you in time!  I don’t know what those brutes intended for you, but I can only assume it was what they have planned for poor Lucius.”

“Lucius?” asked Cal, pulling his axe out of a guard’s corpse.

“Yes,” said Egil.  “The ssanu have taken him.”

“Damn it Egil,” said Kham, reloading his pistols.  “You lost Lucius again?”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 6b: The Shakedown*

Egil glanced both ways down the street, and then urged them down a quiet lane. They were making their way towards the Eastern district.  

“It all happened so quickly.” Egil looked around nervously.  “I was just down the hall from Lucius when I heard a short, sharp cry.  I raced to his chamber to find papers on the floor, the desk upended—chaos.  I hurried into the street but saw nothing.  I knew you were my only chance, but when I asked at the Pale Plate, they hadn’t seen you in some time.”

“We were busy,” said Kham. 

“I knew the ssanu could not have taken you by force, as they took Lucius; it had to be some human agency, even if it was disguised.  Once I discovered there was an order out for your arrest, I knew I had to reach you before Verlaine’s guards did.”

“You’re a little late,” said Vlad.

“There’s no time to lose,” said Egil.  “Time for Lucius is running out.  I fear the serpents intend to complete the job they started a month ago.  I think I know where they’ve taken Lucius,” said Egil. ”It should be right…here.”  He pointed at a pile of trash.

Cal tore at the pile with his claws, removing scrubby weeds to reveal an old sewer access.  

“Well,” said Vlad.  “I guess we’re going in.”

Kham shuddered. “The sewers are where Freeport dumps everything too unsavory for Freeporters.  Think about that for a minute.”  

“I’d rather not,” said Sebastian, covering his nose.

Bijoux gagged several times before making her way in. The stench was overpowering and took a moment to get accustomed to.

“Breathe through your mouth,” said Beldin.  “It might help.” 

“You can’t smell it like I do,” said Bijoux.  She looked like she might throw up.  

They were in a damp, dripping tunnel with a narrow walkway on either side and a river of effluvia oozing down the middle. The walkways were enough for single file. 

Cal cocked his head.  “We are not alone,” he said.

Bijoux pointed at claws marks on the walkways.  “The ssanu are down here.”

At the edge of the Merchant District, an iron grating blocked the passage. It was cemented in place.

“Stand back,” said Cal, flexing his claws. “I’ll open it.”

“No need.”  Bijoux walked over to the bars and with a firm yank, removed them.  

“You’re stronger than I thought,” said Cal.

Bijoux dusted her hands.  She didn’t bother to point out that the bars had been sawed through in the middle and then replaced.

Beyond the grate there was…

“A dead end,” said Vlad.  “Looks like the tunnel’s been bricked up.”

“Not quite,” said Beldin.  He pushed on several of the bricks and the wall swung open to reveal a thick, dusty darkness.

“You first,” said Sebastian to Egil.  He leaned closer to whisper in his hear.  “I don’t care if you’re Kham’s friend or not; if you betray me, I will find you and kill you, like I killed the other Altherian traitors before.”

Egil gulped and stepped first into the darkness.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 7a: Rocks and a Hard Place*

They were crowded into a small room, barely ten feet high.  Massive shapes, indistinguishable in the dark, were scattered about.

“These are rocks,” said Beldin.  They were piled up around the edges of the room, though a few boulders were lying loose on the floor.

Bijoux sniffed the air.  “The air smells strange.”

“Chalk dust,” said Cal, sniffing beside her. 

Beldin spun on his heel. “That’s the same dust from these rocks!”

Then the door slammed shut behind them.

Sebastian whirled.  “Egil, if this is a trap so help me…” but Egil was nowhere to be found.  

The room began to shake.  The roar of machinery boomed all around them.

“What the hell is that?” asked Kham.

“I think I know what device Ambrose was building for the Brotherhood,” said Beldin.  “The records said Verlaine diversified his holdings…”

“Into masonry,” said Sebastian.  “Which is what we’re about to become if we don’t get out of here fast. Everyone spread out!  Find an exit!”

Some rocks slid from the heaps.  

“The ceiling above is hinged,” said Beldin, pointing upwards with the lajatang.  “It runs through the middle.”

“I don’t think that’s an exit,” said Vlad.

The machinery roared louder.  The room heaved and rock piles collapsed all around them.  

“I hate to share this,” said Beldin at the far end of the room, “but this wall is hinged too.”

“So?” shouted Kham, to be heard over the din of the machinery.

“That’s not the bad news,” Beldin shouted back. The flat of his palm was against the wall.  “There’s something big and heavy pounding on the other side.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 7b: Rocks and a Hard Place*

As if on cue, the floor began to tip and the hinged wall hung partially open.  Beyond the hinged wall were two grinding cylinders, mechanically pounding up and down. 

“Everyone!” shouted Beldin.  “Grab hold of something!”  He lifted his axe high overhead and then slammed it into the floor.  The floor of the crushing machine was no match for Elabac’s superior craftsmanship. The blade bit deeply and held.  

Vlad did the same with Grungronazharr, which pierced the metal like butter.  Kham speared the ground with Fleshripper. Cal and Bijoux dug in with their claws.

Rock heaps started to slide downward into the crushers.  They were pounded into dust.

“I see something!” shouted Sebastian.  He could make out a small opening where a man’s silhouette stood in front of a lever.  He pointed his palms forward. “Fuco aspergo!” 

The coruscating cone of light struck the opening.  The figure slumped forward, but the machinery continued to grind away.

The floor tipped to a 45-degree angle.  Rocks slammed into Sebastian.  He plunged into the void towards the crushers…and then stopped as his forked tail wrapped around Kham’s leg.

“So that’s why you always wear those robes!” shouted Kham.  “You have a forked tail!”

“Now is really not the time!” Sebastian shouted back.

Beldin pulled the lajatang off of his back and hurled it down into the mechanism.  The polearm bounced around inside the gears and then caught.  There was a horrible shrieking noise as metal and bit into metal.  The polearm’s magic resisted the irresistible force.

“Bijoux!” shouted Beldin.  “You have to get to the—“

Then the lajatang cracked in half and was engulfed in the machine. The noise became deafening.  Large masses of rocks bounced around in the crushers and all over the bin.  A steady pile of rocks and debris slammed into Calactyte’s snout.  He turned his head, but the rocks kept piling up.  A small mountain piled up in his face.

“Cal!” shouted Bijoux, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.  “Hold on!”

Cal clawed desperately for purchase.  His hind claws tore furrows in the floor, but it was no use.  A huge boulder as large as a man slammed into him and he disappeared into the crushers.

Vlad was shouting something to her and pointing at the opening.  Bijoux couldn’t make out what he said; the infernal pounding was rattling her teeth.  It was so loud that it was becoming impossible to think.

Then a pile of rocks smashed into Vlad and he disappeared, flailing, into the machine’s maw.

Bijoux blinked back tears.  It was hopeless…

Or was it?  She could jump further than any of them.  

Bijoux crouched as a pile of rocks slid towards her.  She dove to one side and spread her wing flaps.  She passed Sebastian, who was dangling helplessly from Kham’s leg.

She hopped forward again.  A big gray stone bounced to one side, just missing her head.  Bijoux passed Kham, clinging to Fleshripper.

A pile of gravel pelted her in a swarm.  She turned her face away; shielding her eyes with one of her arms would drop her back into the bottom of the machine.  Bijoux passed Beldin.  He couldn’t spare the time to look at her—he was starting to lose his grip.

Finally, she reached the small opening.  The operator was unconscious, so there was no one to stop her.  But she couldn’t fit through the hole.  A lever was barely visible through the opening.  If she could just reach it…

She stretched out her fingertips.  The bin began to shudder violently.  Bijoux knew why.  The machine was shaking loose any remaining rocks.

Her fingertips brushed the edge of the lever.  She couldn’t reach it!  Unless…

Bijoux extended one claw and hooked the lever.  Then she yanked back with all her might.

The machine slowly righted itself and ground to a stop.  Bijoux collapsed in relief.

“Remind me to take you everywhere, cat girl,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 8a: The Serpent’s Nest*

Ilmarė had tracked Egil while he was on an errand for the Temple of Althares.  He disappeared down an alleyway and she lost track of him, only to discover he had been spotted in the street near the Office of Records.  She tracked him to the sewers and found a piece of Egil’s robe

The elorii’s superhuman senses immediately detected the outline of a door.  But it was too easy.  The door was a trap, placed to lure the unwise into certain doom, she was sure.  Only a fool would fall for it.

There was a bang.  Ilmarė could hear a muffled, familiar voice on the other side of the door.  She opened it.

Out spilled Beldin and Vlad.  They blinked up at Ilmarė.

“Ilmarė!” said Vlad with a smile.  His armor was rent in several places.  It looked as if the Milandisian had been dumped into a meat grinder.

Bijoux and Sebastian dragged out the mangled form of Calactyte.  Kham sauntered out behind them.

“What happened to you?”

“Remember the crushing machine that Ambrose designed for the Brother of the Yellow Sign?” asked Beldin.

Ilmarė nodded.

Beldin dusted himself off. “Now we know how it works.”

Ilmarė bent down to inspect the ss’ressen.  “He’s still alive?” she asked in disbelief.

Bijoux nodded.  “I have done the best I can.  We must get him to the Temple of Althares so he can recuperate.”

“Maybe not,” said Sebastian.  “Egil betrayed us. I don’t know if we can trust anyone at the Temple.”

“Egil?” asked Ilmarė. “He was in there with you?”

Vlad rose to his feet. “At least, someone we thought was Egil.” 

“Here.” Kham handed Bijoux a card.  “Show this at the Pale Plate.  They’ll put you up in a safe house.”

”I’ll go with her,” said Sebastian.  “It will take two of us to carry him.”

They both put one arm under Cal’s bloodied shoulders.

“I think I know where the real Egil is,” said Ilmarė. “And judging by the scraps of clothing I’ve found, there won’t be much left of him if we don’t hurry.”

“If Egil is still alive, I bet the impostor is with him.” Kham loaded two of his pistols to explain what he would do when he found him.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 8b: The Serpent’s Nest*

The room at the end of the hall was a good hundred feet high and at least as wide, dripping with stalactites, its walls formed of stone that seems to bend impossibly in upon itself—perhaps a trick of the light, perhaps a result of the abhorrent evil that was transplanted there. 

Looming before them, at the other end of the chamber of horrors, was a gargantuan statue of the Unspeakable One.

Kham was invisible, thanks to another one of the Emerald Society’s invisibility potions.  His Society contacts were always happy to provide him with the latest magical concoctions for a fee, but seemed strangely silent on the subject of Fleshripper.  Kham was starting to think they wanted to see what he did with it…or what Fleshripper did with him.

He recognized some of the items on the altar, remnants of the original temple they had wiped out before. Unfortunately, one of them included Egil.

Egil was strapped to the altar.  A hooded figure lifted a dagger over him while four ssanu chanted, their tails and heads swaying in unison. Egil also stood in the corner, cleaning his nails. The impostor.

“We sacrifice this priest to you, Unspeakable One!” shouted the cultist.  

BLAM! BLAM!

The cultist’s headless body slumped to the floor.  

Kham winced as he turned visible. Fleshripper got him so caught up in the thrill of battle that Kham sometimes forgot to worry about his own safety. 

Ilmarė skidded into the room.  “There you are!”

“Took you long enough,” said Kham.  “Didn’t you hear the signal?”

“What signal?”

The fake Egil spun on Kham with drawn blades.  He faced two more of Kham’s pistols.

BLAM! BLAM!  

“That signal,” said Kham.  He holstered his pistols and drew Fleshripper.  

Beldin and Vlad charged into the fray, facing the ssanu head on.  

Kham dodged the swipe of one of the ssanu’s curved blades and hopped up onto the altar.  “You okay Egil?”

Egil moaned, barely conscious.  The Altherian priest was bruised all over.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He jumped over another ssanu’s slash; the blade just missed Egil’s nose.  With a flick of his wrist, Kham sliced Egil’s bindings apart.  

“Be right back.” Kham hopped over another ssanu.  It spun to face him, but Vlad intervened.  

“Pick on someone your own size,” snarled Vlad.

The ssanu obliged and Kham hopped back onto the altar.  He rolled Egil off of it and popped open another vial with one hand.  He lifted it to Egil’s lips.  “Drink,” he said.

Egil swallowed the contents as the sounds of hisses and metal echoed behind them. His eyes fluttered open.  

“Better?”

Egil nodded.  “Yes.  Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“They ambushed me,” said Egil.  “I think they were planning to brand me, but I’m not sure why. The only thing I remember clearly was a voice saying: After tonight, your kind will be out of the way for good.”

The sounds of combat stopped.  Kham peeked over the altar.  

All the ssanu were dead. 

“So does that mean all of humankind?  Or all of the Brothers of Althares?”

“I don’t like either choice,” said Vlad.

“That’s odd,” said Ilmarė.

Vlad looked around.  “What?”

“The incense smoke.” Ilmarė pointed at the sputtering candles and smoking brazier.  “It’s flickering.  There’s an opening to the surface around here somewhere.”

Beldin grunted.  “Yep.”  He pressed one of the screaming faces on the statue of the Unspeakable One.  A door slid open behind the statue.  A ramp led up into darkness.

“You’d think with these two on our side, we wouldn’t fall into any traps,” said Kham, shaking his head.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 9a: Verlaine’s House*

The door at the other end of the long ramp opened into a large cellar, well stocked with interesting vintages.     

“We’re in Verlaine’s house,” said Kham.  He took a bottle off the shelf and popped the cork with one hand.

“How can you be sure?” asked Vlad.

Kham pointed at an open create with his boot.  “The Bierce Vintners stamp was on the crate we found in the old snake temple too.” He took a swig. “This is where they’ve been delivering the crates of magical bricks, disguised as bottles of wine.”  

“So Verlaine’s in on it too,” said Egil.  “This is very troubling.”

“This whole city is a mess,” said Ilmarė.  She peered up the steps.  

“Actually, Freeport’s usually like this,” said Kham.  “Only there are less snakes.”

Ilmarė hushed him.  She craned her neck to listen.  

“Combat.  Upstairs.”

There was a cry of agony. Kham took a swig of a potion and rushed up the steps.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 9b: Verlaine’s House*

Kham crept his way towards the door across from the stairway.  He eased the door open.

The room was a mess.  Books from the bookcases lining the room lay scattered on the floor.  A big, dark wood desk was similarly ransacked. 

Kham locked gazes with McNeil, a mercenary of some note.  Or at least, Kham thought he did—McNeil was staring through him at Vlad, who stood in the doorframe behind him.

Vlad charged ahead, heedless of his companion’s presence, and it was all Kham could do to spin out of the way.  Then Ilmarė screamed in pain. Kham ran out into the hallway after her.

The elorii lay on the ground with Egil tending to her wounds.  A masked figured covered in black from head-to-toe was backpedaling, a rapier and wicked dagger in both hands.

“That assassin…” gasped Ilmarė. “I recognized her…she tried to kill Baldric!”

Kham recognized her too.  It was the notorious Jesswin, the deadliest assassin in Freeport.  He decided the Brother of the Yellow Sign was much more influential than he first thought—they were hiring expensive killers.

Kham padded after her.  He would teach this Jesswin a thing or two about assassinations.

Jesswin cocked her head.  She heard him.

One hand disappeared into the folds of her bodysuit.  A black globe skittered out onto the wooden floor in front of Kham.  

He dove forward just as it burst into flames.  The flames cut Kham off from the others.  It didn’t matter; Kham was exactly where he wanted to be.

He slowly drew his two pistols from their holsters, resisting the urge to just charge after her with Fleshripper, screaming bloody murder.  Some days, it was harder to resist the blade than others.

Jesswin wasn’t fooled.  She crab-walked sideways until her back was against a wall, eyes darting left and right.  Then she slid into another room. Kham pursued her.

They were in a bedchamber, done up in dark oak and lined with heavy wardrobes, with a canopy bed in the center.
Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been a warm, comfortable hideaway. But it was turned into an abattoir. 

The bed held what was left of Councilor Verlaine; on the carpet laid four members of his personal guard. All have been hacked almost beyond recognition.

Kham took careful aim at Jesswin’s head with both pistols.

BLAM! BLAM!

Jesswin ducked just as the triggers on his pistols clicked.  The blast shattered the windowpane behind her.  

“Thanks, Kham” said Jesswin from behind her mask. 

The assassin back flipped out of the window and landed on her feet two stories below.

Kham swigged another potion and dove out of the window after her.  He landed a second after Jesswin, who dodged and weaved through the crowd.  

Kham rolled to his feet and came up with two more pistols.  He fired, but only succeeded in killing a cantaloupe and a merchant’s stall.

Vlad huffed up to him.  “Did you get her?”

Kham shook his head.  “Worse.”

“Worse?”

“The most dangerous assassin in Freeport now knows my name,” he said dourly.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 10a: The Temple of Althares*

“We found this in the ssanu temple,” said Beldin.  He handed over a document to Thuron, the high priest of the Temple of Althares. The dwarf discovered it while Kham was off rescuing Egil.  

“And we found this map in Verlaine’s house,” said Vlad.  He handed over a crudely sketched map of what looked like the Temple of Althares. 

The old priest folded the documents carefully. His voice was subdued but troubled. “I’ve known this day had to come, since I first learned of the activities of the Brotherhood in Freeport. There was no way any human agency could destroy them. They would return to seek vengeance on those who would hinder their diabolical schemes.” He waved the ssanu text that Beldin had found. “This document proves it.”

“What does it say?” asked Ilmarė. She was irritated that a human priest had more knowledge of an enemy than she.

“Should we survive this night, I will tell you what is contained herein. But there is no time now. They will be upon us—soon, and in force. We must secure the temple.”

“Agreed,” said Vlad.  “If that map is any indication, they’re planning on attacking from all three sides.”

Thuron nodded towards Egil. “Egil, wake the clergy and have them begin spells of protection.” Egil hustled off to do the high priest’s bidding. Thuron turned back to Kham. “I will not abandon this holy place to the Brotherhood’s loathsome depredations. And I will not have the order hunted down and murdered one by one. We will make our stand, and we will trust in Althares to protect us.”

“He’s kept me alive this long,” said Kham.  “Don’t see any reason to stop now.”

Thuron turned to the others. “My friends, I would ask you to stay and help. I will give you all the rewards this simple order can spare. We may have the god on our side—but steel never hurt, either, as you well know.”

Vlad picked up his shield and drew his sword.  “I’ve got the south entrance,” he said.

“I’ve got the west,” said Beldin.  He hoisted his battleaxe and stumped away.

“Kham?” asked Thuron.

Kham drew both of his pistols with a smirk.  “I’m going to go pray,” he said.

“And what of you?” asked Thuron.

“I’m going to stay here,” said Ilmarė, standing between the pews at the center of the temple.

“That is wise,” said Thuron.  “Surely, if we pray hard enough, perhaps Althares will protect us.”

Ilmarė snorted.  “You misunderstand.” She hopped up onto one of the pews and drew her bow.  “I can kill humans better from this vantage point.”

Thuron was about to say something when curtains to either side of the altar to Althares were pulled aside.  

“What the—“ shouted Vlad from the other side of the huge temple.  His voice echoed.  “Those entrances aren’t on the map!”

Ilmarė drew a bead on the leader of the intruders.  “And they call them the Brotherhood of Knowledge.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 10b: The Temple of Althares*

There were nine brothers in total, all of them suffering sporting wicked wounds.

Kham drew his pistols and pointed one to either side of him.  

“Start talking,” he said.

“We were out picking up groceries and dry goods for the temple,” said what appeared to be a leader, the female.  “While passing through a darkened street in the Old City, we were ambushed by shadowy figures in robes, carrying long, crooked knives.”

“Go on,” said Kham. Thuron and Egil walked over behind him. 

“Everything happened too quickly to see anything. We got away, but I’m sure we were being followed.”

“We split up to try to throw off our pursuers,” said one of the other brothers to the left of Kham. 

“These little sheep yours?” asked Kham over his shoulder.

“Yes,” said Thuron slowly.  “They are brothers and sisters of this temple.”

The various lay brethren began arguing amongst themselves.  Some advocated evacuating the temple; others voted for calling the Watch.  

“I don’t like this,” said Egil over the din. 

Kham turned, his back to the altar to Althares. “Me neither.” He nodded towards the female cultist.  “Say, Thuron?”

“Yes, Kham?”

Everyone stopped talking.  Kham hadn’t lowered his pistols.  He was focused on the Althares sister.

“Doesn’t your order take a vow of poverty?”

“Yes,” said Thuron.

“Thought so,” said Kham.  

BLAM! BLAM!

One brother fell backwards, clutching his face.  The female priestess swore as the blast hit her full in the chest.  Instead of collapsing, she morphed into a ssanu’s serpentine form, wielding a wickedly curved blade. The other priests drew daggers from their robes.

The brotherhood priests surged forward with clubs, led by Beldin and Vlad.  

K’Ral spun and decapitated a brother of Althares in one smooth motion.  She hurled the head at the altar.  “Thissss temple sssshall fall before the Brotherhood!”

Ilmarė fired an arrow at K’Ral, but the shot went wide.

“A sssslave?” hissed K’Ral.  “Truly thisss will be a gloriousss triumph,” she drew her own bow.  It was carved in the shape of two snakes, their mouths biting the bowstring.  “Two of our mortal enemiesss dessstroyed in one night!”

K’Ral fired back at Ilmarė.  The elorii ducked just in time.  The arrow shivered in a pew behind her.

“My people broke free of your slavery a millennia ago,” snarled Ilmarė.  She loosed another shot at K’Ral.  “Stop living in the past.”

K’Ral fired another arrow.  “That may be,” said K’Ral, “but we have a new god leading ussss.”

A brother of Althares shrieked and fell to the ground behind Ilmarė, an arrow jutting from his face.  

Ilmarė ducked behind a pew and touched the amulet at her throat.  Energy pulsed through her veins as rage washed over her.  

When she rose up again, Ilmarė pulled back her bow so tightly that it creaked.  She loosed four arrows in quick succession.  

K’Ral was in the middle of drawing her own arrow when she was hit in the thigh.  She hissed in pain, but was interrupted by two more arrows that struck her in the arm and torso.  The last arrow struck the ssanu in the forehead, and then she stopped hissing altogether.

Ilmarė stepped over to K’Ral’s corpse.  All the other cultists were dead. 

She kicked the dead body. “Stupid ssanu cultist.”

“How did you know they were impostors?” Egil asked Kham.

Kham plucked a ring off of K’Ral’s hand and flipped it with one thumb towards Egil.  

Egil caught it. It was a heavy gold ring.  “Your order takes a vow of poverty, remember,” said Kham.  “Besides, that’s a ring of mind shielding.  You don’t wear it unless you want to keep secrets.”

“How do you know of such things?” asked Egil in awe. 

Kham wiggled his ring finger at Egil, “Because I’m wearing one.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Once again, Kham gets all the good lines.


----------



## talien

This scenario was Kham's "shoot everything that moves phase" The fact that they had the two rings in common was something Kham's player pointed out, and I had to make a quick decision as to whether or not magic items "all look alike."  

The truth of the matter is that the PLAYERS were paranoid by that point.  I mean, they're primed for an attack and then something suspicious happens -- unlike in the movies where the protagonists believe everything everyone says, players know better, and are a hair's trigger away from blowing up anybody who seems even slightly out of the ordinary.  

The rings being in common were what they Kham's player used as an excuse for shooting him.  Mind you, just having the same ring doesn't necessarily imply guilt -- the idea was that the ring was made of gold, odd for a brotherhood that takes a vow of poverty.  And yet, Egil was rewarding people with lots of gold too.  Where'd he get it from?

We find out in future story hours.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Conclusion*

Once Thuron was sure the temple was secure, he led Brother Egil and the others to the temple tombs. 

The tombs were cold, dark, and deathly still, but the feeling was reverent rather than grim. A luminescent moss hung from the marble wall, giving off a hint of sandalwood and a gentle yellow glow. 

Thuron ran his hands along the moss and chuckled softly to himself. Then he lowered his eyes. “Here I must make a confession. I have lied to you all. I went astray for the best of reasons—but nonetheless I went astray. I can only swear to you I had no part in what you are about to see.” 

“Why do I get the feeling,” said Kham, hands in his coat pockets, “that I am not going to be happy about what I see.”

With that, Thuron spoke a few hushed syllables in prayer and slid open a crypt. There was a rush of air, a billow of incense, and they found themselves looking at the body of—Thuron! He seemed eminently peaceful in death. 

“Serpent!” snarled Ilmarė.  Her blade was out in a flash. 

Thuron held up both hands. “I am not Thuron, as you can see. My name is K’Stallo. I am the last priest of Yig.”

“Why shouldn’t we kill you right now?” asked Kham.  He had yet to draw his pistols.

“Let me explain,” said K’Stallo.  “Please.”

Ilmarė sighed and lowered her blade, but she did not sheath it. 

“The Brotherhood was not the only serpent people to survive the destruction of Valossa with their intellects intact. Yig preserved some of his faithful in the farthest corners of the world. But evil—and stupidity—have a greater attraction over the centuries than does peaceful worship.”

“I’ve noticed,” said Ilmarė.

“Many of my number reverted to simple animals, or worse yet, joined the Brotherhood. Lucius found us, during his wanderings, in a small mountain village far to the north. I realized the knowledge he had accumulated might be able to lead us to a closer communion with Yig—an understanding of the divine that has all but faded away over the centuries. So I followed him during his search. I followed him home.”

“So you were the one rummaging through Lucius’ home,” exclaimed Egil.

Thuron nodded. “I snuck into Lucius’s chambers one evening to see if he had held onto any others. I believe I startled you, Egil. For that I apologize. “

Egil sputtered.  He didn’t know what to say.

“That doesn’t explain how you became Thuron,” said Ilmarė. 

“I slipped into this temple in human guise one evening to look through the scrolls Lucius had brought back from his wanderings. While I was searching, I discovered Thuron dead at his desk. His heart had given out during the night. At that moment I made a fateful choice. Perhaps not a wise one, or even a brave one, but one that made the most sense. I took Thuron’s place and devoted myself to the study of the scrolls.”

“That explains a lot,” said Ilmarė.  “This temple has been a pit of snakes ever since. First Oriku, then Milos.”

“I should have spotted Milos at once,” said Thuron, “but I was too engrossed in my work. When I learned of Oriku’s betrayal, I should have abandoned my charade. But I was too greedy for knowledge.”

Kham shrugged.  “Althares is a god of knowledge,” he said.  “Seems like you’re perfect for the job.”

“Thank you Kham.”

Egil took a deep breath.  “I too will keep your secret.  For now.  We need a leader more than ever.  We will take whatever help we can get.”  He blanched, looking Thuron up and down, as if he would sprout fangs at any moment. “No matter what form it might take.”

Thuron relaxed somewhat.  He took out the documents Vlad and Beldin had handed to him before. “Now I will render you the only service I can—far too little, far too late.” He pointed at the letter written in ssanu. “This document promises great danger for Freeport—and for the world.”

“What is it?” asked Vlad.

“It is a public speech, an explanation of tonight’s events. I will translate it without remarking upon the obvious—it is all lies: This evening, Councilor Verlaine and the clergy of the Althares have been slain. Their murderers are the adventurers who of late discovered the caverns beneath our town: Beldin Soulforge, Bijoux, Calactyte, Ilmare Galen, Kham Val’Abebi, and Vlad Martell. After an investigation by the Council and the City Watch, we have pieced together the truth. 

“Chief Councilor Verlaine, that great servant to the city of Freeport, heard rumors about town of unwholesome activities at the temple to the God of Knowledge. He hired the wandering mercenaries to investigate. They made a tremendous discovery: The temple and its priesthood were a cover for the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, a grotesque cult of serpent people. The mercenaries joined the temple to gain its secrets, but they proved treacherous to both masters. They revealed the caves beneath the city and threatened to expose even more secrets unless the Brotherhood paid them a fortune in gold. 

“The Brotherhood agreed to their demands, on condition that the mercenaries accept one final task for their serpent masters—assassinating their erstwhile employer, Councilor Verlaine. The double-crossers carried out the grim job, but they quickly found themselves double-crossed. The Brotherhood refused to pay them their blood money. The mercenaries went mad with rage and slaughtered the cultists, but were killed themselves in the battle. 

“We mourn the loss of Councilor Verlaine, but his efforts brought this menace to light—and rooted it out of town, once and for all.” K’Stallo looked up, concern etched in his face. “It is the next part of the document that troubles me the most.”

“There’s more bad news?” asked Ilmarė.

“I’m afraid so.  You see, the note is addressed to the Sea Lord—”

Vlad slapped his forehead.  “So this goes all the way up to Drac.”

“Of course,” said Kham.  “And I’m sure it involves his lighthouse too.”

“Milton’s Folly,” said Beldin.

“You didn’t let me finish,” said Thuron. “Drac’s name is marked with the Yellow Sign.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Conclusion*

Once Thuron was sure the temple was secure, he led Brother Egil and the others to the temple tombs. 

The tombs were cold, dark, and deathly still, but the feeling was reverent rather than grim. A luminescent moss hung from the marble wall, giving off a hint of sandalwood and a gentle yellow glow. 

Thuron ran his hands along the moss and chuckled softly to himself. Then he lowered his eyes. “Here I must make a confession. I have lied to you all. I went astray for the best of reasons—but nonetheless I went astray. I can only swear to you I had no part in what you are about to see.” 

“Why do I get the feeling,” said Kham, hands in his coat pockets, “that I am not going to be happy about what I see.”

With that, Thuron spoke a few hushed syllables in prayer and slid open a crypt. There was a rush of air, a billow of incense, and they found themselves looking at the body of—Thuron! He seemed eminently peaceful in death. 

“Serpent!” snarled Ilmarė.  Her blade was out in a flash. 

Thuron held up both hands. “I am not Thuron, as you can see. My name is K’Stallo. I am the last priest of Yig.”

“Why shouldn’t we kill you right now?” asked Kham.  He had yet to draw his pistols.

“Let me explain,” said K’Stallo.  “Please.”

Ilmarė sighed and lowered her blade, but she did not sheath it. 

“The Brotherhood was not the only serpent people to survive the destruction of Valossa with their intellects intact. Yig preserved some of his faithful in the farthest corners of the world. But evil—and stupidity—have a greater attraction over the centuries than does peaceful worship.”

“I’ve noticed,” said Ilmarė.

“Many of my number reverted to simple animals, or worse yet, joined the Brotherhood. Lucius found us, during his wanderings, in a small mountain village far to the north. I realized the knowledge he had accumulated might be able to lead us to a closer communion with Yig—an understanding of the divine that has all but faded away over the centuries. So I followed him during his search. I followed him home.”

“So you were the one rummaging through Lucius’ home,” exclaimed Egil.

Thuron nodded. “I snuck into Lucius’s chambers one evening to see if he had held onto any others. I believe I startled you, Egil. For that I apologize. “

Egil sputtered.  He didn’t know what to say.

“That doesn’t explain how you became Thuron,” said Ilmarė. 

“I slipped into this temple in human guise one evening to look through the scrolls Lucius had brought back from his wanderings. While I was searching, I discovered Thuron dead at his desk. His heart had given out during the night. At that moment I made a fateful choice. Perhaps not a wise one, or even a brave one, but one that made the most sense. I took Thuron’s place and devoted myself to the study of the scrolls.”

“That explains a lot,” said Ilmarė.  “This temple has been a pit of snakes ever since. First Oriku, then Milos.”

“I should have spotted Milos at once,” said Thuron, “but I was too engrossed in my work. When I learned of Oriku’s betrayal, I should have abandoned my charade. But I was too greedy for knowledge.”

Kham shrugged.  “Althares is a god of knowledge,” he said.  “Seems like you’re perfect for the job.”

“Thank you Kham.”

Egil took a deep breath.  “I too will keep your secret.  For now.  We need a leader more than ever.  We will take whatever help we can get.”  He blanched, looking Thuron up and down, as if he would sprout fangs at any moment. “No matter what form it might take.”

Thuron relaxed somewhat.  He took out the documents Vlad and Beldin had handed to him before. “Now I will render you the only service I can—far too little, far too late.” He pointed at the letter written in ssanu. “This document promises great danger for Freeport—and for the world.”

“What is it?” asked Vlad.

“It is a public speech, an explanation of tonight’s events. I will translate it without remarking upon the obvious—it is all lies: This evening, Councilor Verlaine and the clergy of the Althares have been slain. Their murderers are the adventurers who of late discovered the caverns beneath our town: Beldin Soulforge, Bijoux, Calactyte, Ilmare Galen, Kham Val’Abebi, and Vlad Martell. After an investigation by the Council and the City Watch, we have pieced together the truth. 

“Chief Councilor Verlaine, that great servant to the city of Freeport, heard rumors about town of unwholesome activities at the temple to the God of Knowledge. He hired the wandering mercenaries to investigate. They made a tremendous discovery: The temple and its priesthood were a cover for the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, a grotesque cult of serpent people. The mercenaries joined the temple to gain its secrets, but they proved treacherous to both masters. They revealed the caves beneath the city and threatened to expose even more secrets unless the Brotherhood paid them a fortune in gold. 

“The Brotherhood agreed to their demands, on condition that the mercenaries accept one final task for their serpent masters—assassinating their erstwhile employer, Councilor Verlaine. The double-crossers carried out the grim job, but they quickly found themselves double-crossed. The Brotherhood refused to pay them their blood money. The mercenaries went mad with rage and slaughtered the cultists, but were killed themselves in the battle. 

“We mourn the loss of Councilor Verlaine, but his efforts brought this menace to light—and rooted it out of town, once and for all.” K’Stallo looked up, concern etched in his face. “It is the next part of the document that troubles me the most.”

“There’s more bad news?” asked Ilmarė.

“I’m afraid so.  You see, the note is addressed to the Sea Lord—”

Vlad slapped his forehead.  “So this goes all the way up to Drac.”

“Of course,” said Kham.  “And I’m sure it involves his lighthouse too.”

“Milton’s Folly,” said Beldin.

“You didn’t let me finish,” said Thuron. “Drac’s name is marked with the Yellow Sign.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 22: Madness in Freeport - Introduction*

This is the third in the Freeport series of modules, "Madness in Freeport," written by Chris Pramas and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
·	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
·	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

We played this adventure immediately after “Terror in Freeport,” in an 10 hour marathon gaming session.  Tiles were used, miniatures were used, music was used…it was great. 

This adventure consists primarily of four scenes.  The first is a fancy ball, heavy on role-playing.  It was very interesting, actually, as Kham, Vlad, and Ilmarė were able to get themselves into (and out of) quite a few sticky situations.  Mostly, Beldin chased around a frog (trust me, it makes more sense in the story)

The second scene takes place in flooded caverns.  This part was long and painful because Quintus wasn’t with the party.  It’s also the beginning of Beldin getting seriously messed up, as his stats are drained.  And drained.  And drained.  Kham, our resident pirate, boater, and sailor, tries hard but doesn’t really do much besides let people take on traps.  As I’ve mentioned before, our party isn’t all that good at standard dungeon crawls.

So by the time they got to the third scene, the underwater temple, everybody was pretty cranky.  The quest was standard “find widget A to get widget B,” which can be a bit boring.  That, and Beldin was still a mess.  And killing ghosts is hard.  

The fourth scene is the payoff though.  The battle to the top of the tower was great, especially because we used e-Adventure Round Tower tiles.  Ironically, the main bad guy was much less of a threat than his bodyguard N’Tal, who nearly killed the party off by pounding them with evocation spells.

Still, we get a cinematic finish…and you gotta love any adventure that ends with a bang!


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Prologue*

“How’s he doing?” asked Kham.  They were at one of the special back rooms at the Pale Plate.  Calactyte the ss’ressen was wrapped from head to toe in bandages.

“He is doing as well as can be expected,” said Bijoux, the feline fihali.  “His wounds were quite serious.  Egil’s healing magic is not much stronger than my own. He has not disclosed our location to anyone, even the priests of the Temple of Althares.”

“With good reason,” said Ilmarė.  “The ssanu made the ss’ressen race.  It’s likely Thuron doesn’t want to consort with Cal’s kind.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bijoux.

“Didn’t we tell you?”  Kham took a swig from a wineskin.  “Thuron’s a snake. Literally.”

“Whatever the case,” said Sebastian, the dark-kin, “Cal is not going to be in any shape to go anywhere soon.  What did we miss?”

“There was a very public,” Kham put two pairs of fingers up in the air to emphasize air quotes, “cleansing held at Verlaine’s home.”

“The militia destroyed the ssanu temple beneath it,” said Beldin.

“And an edict was issued to remove Verlaine’s name forever from the rolls of the Captains’ Council,” said Ilmarė.  “All his former holdings were seized.”

“That opens up the Council position, doesn’t it?” asked Sebastian. “Captain Baldric will be pleased.” 

Vlad waved a rolled-up scroll with one hand  “Drac drafted a proclamation explaining the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign’s treachery.  He blames it all on Verlaine.”

“Very convenient,” said Sebastian. 

“We found evidence that Drac is behind it all.” Ilmarė pulled up a seat. “He even drafted a letter blaming us for Verlaine’s murder.  Looks like he just tweaked the draft a bit when we decided not to die so easily.”

“I find it strange that your name wasn’t in that letter.” Beldin said to Sebastian. “It’s as if he doesn’t know you’re in Freeport.”

The dark-kin’s forked tail twitched in agitation.  Now that everyone knew he had a tail, he no longer tried to disguise it.  “I believe the Shield is responsible for concealing my identity from Drac.”

“The who?” asked Beldin.

“The Shield.” Kham took off his lenses and placed them down on a round table next to the bed.  “A society of mages that protect the magically gifted from Harvesters.” 

“I am a Bondsman,” said Sebastian with a slight incline of his head, as if he was introducing himself for the first time.  “I have taken the Oath of Nurion.”

Beldin’s eyes were wide.  “I did not know.”

“It seems we both have our secrets,” said Sebastian ruefully.  “But that’s not important now.  What’s important is that we have to leave Freeport.  I fear Calactyte will be finished off if we do not move him. I know of a Haven where we can take him.”

Bijoux put one claw on Cal’s arm.  “I will not leave him.”

“That’s probably for the best anyway.” Kham threw an envelope onto the bed near Cal’s foot. “You wouldn’t exactly fit in where we’re going.”

Ilmarė took a note out of the envelope.  She scanned it with a frown.

“What is it?” asked Vlad.  “A death threat?”

“Something far more dangerous,” said Ilmarė.  She turned the contents towards Vlad so he could read it. “An invitation to a formal ball.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1a: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

The Sea Lord’s Palace was located in the center of the Old City. At five stories high, it was by far the largest building in the area. 

A fifteen-foot-high stone wall enclosed the grounds of the palace. Twin large, black, cast-iron gates faced the street and allowed access to the courtyard. Four guards stood watch over the entrance, checking invitations. 

Ilmarė handed her invitation over to the guard with one purple-gloved hand. She was dressed in a bell-shaped, gored skirt that fit close to her waist and gradually widened to the hem, beneath which was a single ruffled petticoat. Her bodice was close fitting, with a low-cut neckline and puffed sleeves. Her hair was simply styled, drawn up in a knot on the top of her head and dressed with violets. 

“And your escort?” asked the guard.

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed.  “What?”

“Your escort, m’lady,” the guard asked.  His eyes darted to Vlad.  “Did you come with your husband?”

Ilmarė sneered at him.  “I do not require a husband to attend a ball.”

The guard’s head bobbed.  “If you are unmarried, then an escort is required.”

The elorii was about to say something else when Kham waved his invitation in the guard’s face.  He was dressed in a black tailcoat, white shirt, white bow tie, and white vest. He also wore white gloves. “Let’s pretend I’m her escort for the evening, okay?”

The guard, who was only too happy to stop the awkward conversation, took Kham’s invitation without incident.

“I’ve never been to a ball before,” said Vlad out of the corner of his mouth.  He wore a vest of leather studded with polished brass rivets. Over the armor he wore a military coat that ended just above the knee, snug gray pants beneath, and black riding boots. Vlad also wore black gloves and a top hat. He wore his sword belt, but his weapon was left at the door.

The landscaping within was well tended, with tall trees and numerous gardens of flowers. They traversed a white stone path that led from the gates to the palace beyond.

“It’s easy,” said Kham.  “Smile and ask women to dance.  They’re not allowed to say no.”

Ilmarė snorted.

“Really?” asked Vlad.

“Really,” said Kham.  “It’d be impolite.”

The guard escorted them to a sitting room in the palace.  

“This is nothing like a Coryani formal event,” said Beldin, stroking his beard.  He wore a green leather doublet with a single-breasted closure and gold trim. For pants, he wore a pair of black breeches, a white cotton shirt, and a matching green cotton velveteen feathered cap.

“Yeah,” said Kham, “no elephants.”

The door swung open, and a short man hustled into the room, breathing heavily. He took a minute to hike up his black pants over his protruding belly and smooth out his silver buttoned jacket. 

After bowing deeply, he said, “Greetings heroes! Milton Drac welcomes you to his home. I am Tomas Fleetfoot, High Chamberlain of the Sea Lord’s Palace. You are to be honored tonight at the ball for your deeds in defense of Freeport. We don’t have much time, so please pay attention.”

Vlad raised one finger.  “Uh…”

The short man cut him off. “In a few minutes, I will lead you into the hallway as a speech is made in your honor. The Sea Lord will then introduce you to the gathering, and you will enter the ballroom and approach the dais. The Sea Lord will present you all with the Order of Drac, a very great honor you know, and the ball will begin. Any questions? Good. Let’s go.” 

“Great,” said Ilmarė. “As if the ball isn’t torture enough, we have to be honored too.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1b: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Tomas led them all into the hallway. The gold double doors stood open, revealing the large ballroom. There were two single golden doors on either end of the room, in the middle of each wall. The floor was covered with polished black marble. At the far end of the room, a semi-circle of windows, about half as wide as the room itself, jutted out into the garden outside the palace. 

In front of the windows was a dais with thirteen polished oak chairs.  “That’d be the Council’s chairs,” said Kham. One chair in the middle was larger than the others. “And that’s Drac’s chair.”

“Don’t tell me,” said Ilmarė. “That was Verlaine’s.” The chair directly to the right of larger chair was draped in black cloth. 

The guests were spread out around the room, at round tables. The center of the room had no tables, leaving room for dancing. A group of minstrels sat to the right of the dais. Many colorful tapestries depicting various maritime scenes covered the walls. Large glass spheres hung from the ceiling. They glowed with a yellow light that illuminated the room. 

Kham bowed, Ilmarė curtseyed, and the others followed his lead a half-second afterward.

Standing in the center of the dais was a tall man with an angular face. He wore a long, light green robe with a jeweled belt. He looked toward Kham and then addresses the guests, “Thank you all for coming to this grand ball to celebrate the completion of the lighthouse. Soon all the world will speak of the greatness of Freeport. As a glowing beacon, the lighthouse shall shine forth to all peoples, proclaiming the unspeakable power of our glorious city. Tonight, however, we honor the heroes who have saved us from the traitor Verlaine and the dark Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. If not for their vigilance, our fair city might have fallen under the domination of unfathomable evil. Come forward, my friends, and accept the Order of Drac and our sincerest gratitude.” 

The room erupted in applause. Milton handed each of them a gold medal with a pirate ship engraved on it.

Vlad and Beldin accepted their award without comment.  Ilmarė’s lip curled, but she kept her tongue.

“Nice speech,” said Kham. 

Drac merely shook Kham’s hand with a smile.  They were shown to a table near the dais, and the music and merriment began.

“Now what?” asked Vlad out of the corner of his mouth.

“Now,” said Kham, “you learn to duel without your sword.”  He grabbed a bottle of wine, two glasses, and disappeared into the crowd.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1c: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

"Shall I have the honor of dancing this set with you?" 

Ilmarė smiled back at a tall man with short, blonde hair and blue eyes.  He wore green pants, a white shirt, and a green jacket.  

“Marcus Roberts, Captain of the Black Dragon,” he said with a booming voice that reminded her of Quintus.  “I’m sure you’ve heard of me?”

Ilmarė blinked. “I…” Marcus took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor before she could protest. “I’m Ilmarė Galen,” she said.  

The music began and the captain whirled her around in the first part of a fast waltz. 

“You must be on the Captain’s Council.”

“Of course,” said Marcus. 

“Since you’re a Councilor, I’m sure you have an opinion about Drac’s lighthouse,” she said with lowered lashes.

Marcus needed little encouragement.  “That lighthouse is draining valuable resources away from the city. You see that fellow hovering near Drac?” He spun her about so that she could look at Drac’s companion.  “That’s Melkior Maeorgan.”

Melkior was a large, muscular man in black pants and shirt, covered with a gleaming breastplate.  He had jet-black hair to match.  A curved dagger in a jeweled scabbard hung from his belt.  

“He looks friendly,” said Ilmarė. 

Marcus laughed out loud.  “He’s Drac’s crony.  Drac recently sent Melkior to the mainland and came back with something strange.”

“What kind of strange?”

“Candles made of yellow wax and engraved with magical symbols.”

“Summoning candles,” said Ilmarė.  She squinted over at Drac, who was in deep conversation with Melkior.  

“That’s what I fear,” said Marcus.  His frown shifted to a broad smile. “I used to support the Sea Lord, but these past few years, he’s really turned out to be quite the snake.”

“You have no idea,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1d: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Vlad caught sight of Thuron and Captain Baldric chatting together at a table.  With a nod, he advanced towards them. 

“Nay dancin’ me boy?” asked Baldric with a crooked grin.  “Thar’s plenty o' pretty lasses, ye ought be ou' on th' floor!”

Vlad shook his head.  “I prefer a battlefield to a dance floor any time.”  He took a seat next to them.

Thuron smiled, but it was a strained smile.  “Youth is truly wasted on the young.”

“Ye got that right!” hooted Baldric.  He elbowed the ssanu-in-disguise in the ribs.  Thuron didn’t look too pleased.

Vlad looked over at the Council seats arrayed in the center of the room. “Which seat is yours?” 

Baldric hushed him.  “About that. Listen, lad. I may be havin' overstated me candidacy fer th' Captain’s Council. I thought I had a lock on 't, but now thar’s an e'en greater chance that I might get th' position.”

Vlad took a sip of a wine glass that a servant placed in front of him.  “How?”

“Ye know,” Baldric whispered, “now that one o’ them be gone.”  He raised his voice when Thuron looked over.  “Nay t' speak ill o' th' dead, praise be Yarris!”

Vlad shook his head.  “Politics.”

“It is said that in politics,” said Thuron, “your enemies can’t hurt you, but your friends can kill you.”

Baldric laughed nervously and changed the subject.  “This party’s very important fer me, lad. If I’m seen wi' th' right swabbies, 't could help me get th' position. So don’t…ah, me good matey Hector! Come sit wi' us!”

A swarthy fellow with a curly, black beard and hair in a red frock coat sat down with them.  He had a gold earring in his right ear as well as on each of his fingers.

“Baldric me old friend!”  He plunked himself down and ordered a drink.

“This here be Captain Hector Torian,” said Baldric. “He’s th' captain o' th' Silver Ghost.”

“And what do you think of Drac’s lighthouse?” asked Vlad with frank curiosity.

Hector took a swig of a mug.  “I owe me seat on th' Captain’s Council t' Drac.” He slammed the mug down on the table. “He helped me get th' position twelve voyages ago when he be a nobody. But eyeball th' lad now!” He took in the room’s festivities with the sloshing mug. 

“You don’t think it’s draining too much money from the government’s coffers?”

“Ever' investment requires some cash up front.” Hector slurped again from his mug.  “Wi' th' trade th' lighthouse ought t’ generate, we’ll make 't back in nay time!”

Thuron crossed his arms.  “The blood of the innocent does not wash easily from coins, no matter how many times they change hands.”

Baldric shoved a mug in front of Thuron’s face.  “This one’s on me,” he said in grim tones.  “Yarris knows we both need it.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport: Part 1e: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Kham zeroed in on a pretty blonde in a midnight blue gown.  A single gold ring adorned her right hand.

“That’s a beautiful stone,” he said, sidling up to her.

She met him with a ready smile.  “You’re too kind.  I’m Petra Fricke.”

“Kham val’Abebi,” said Kham, kissing her hand in greeting.  "Shall I have the pleasure?"

“I’d be delighted,” she said with the same sparkling smile.  

They made their way to the dance floor as the next song commenced.  It was a slow waltz.

“It’s funny you should mention stones,” said Petra.  “Are you a craftsman?”

“I know many trades,” Kham turned her slowly about.  “Why do you ask?”

“I’m the leader of the Craftsmen Guild in Freeport,” she said.

Kham held up one of Petra’s manicured hands as she waltzed around him.  “You don’t have the hands of a craftsman.”

Petra giggled.  “Alas, we have not received much work in the past three years.”

“Don’t tell me.”  Kham caught her by the waist and resumed the waltz.  “This has to do with the lighthouse.”

“It does indeed,” said Petra with a coy smile.  “The craftsmen are being left out some lucrative work.  Instead, Drac brings in orcs from outside of Freeport.”

The music slowly faded to a stop.  Kham bowed before Petra.  “Thank you very much for the dance.”

Petra put one hand to her mouth and tittered.  “I think we shall meet again, Kham val’Abebi.”

He led her off the dance floor. “I certainly hope so,” said Kham with a wink.  Seconds later, Kham walked straight towards a green-haired beauty at the other side of the room.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1f: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Another dance was announced. Ilmarė didn’t have to wait long.

An elorii wearing dark-green breeches with a black, tight-fitting shirt approached her.  His shoulder-length, blonde hair was held away from his angular face by a slim, golden circlet.  He cut a dashing figure, complete with a rapier at his side.

"Will you honor me with your hand for a quadrille?" he asked.

“You’re Berokene.” Ilmarė identified the elorii’s lineage with a hint of approval. “Yes, I think I will.”

He led her to two other men and a lady on the dance floor. 

When the music commenced, he bowed. Ilmarė responded with a courtesy and the dance began.

“My name is Arias,” he said.  “Arias Soderheim.”

Arias moved toward Ilmarė and, in passing her, presented his right hand.  Ilmarė did the same.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Ilmarė with the hint of a smile.  “I’m—“

“Oh I know who you are,” said Arias.  “How could I not?  You’re the most beautiful lady in all of Freeport.”

They changed places. “You’re too kind.”  Ilmarė would have rolled her eyes, but Arias mustered the compliment with deadly sincerity.  

After giving Ilmarė his right hand, Arias left her to turn behind her, and gave his left hand to that of Ilmarė, who took the place of the other lady. 

“And what is it you do, Arias?” 

“I’m on the Captain’s Council.”  He flashed a smile.  “I represent the Entaran naval fleet in negotiations. Milton’s a much better choice than the previous Sea Lord, don’t you think?”

Their conversation was interrupted as they switched places in the quadrille.  Ilmarė had to wait until she was facing Arias again.

“You mean Anton?” Ilmarė turned caught Arias’ hand again.  He was an excellent dancer. “Wasn’t he assassinated?”

“Yes,” said Arias with a frown.  “Milton’s much more interested in a neutral Freeport, and that’s turned out to be a rather lucrative arrangement for our people.”

“Lucrative how?”

“We have exclusive rights to all shipping for material to build that lighthouse of his,” said Arias. 

“Whatever would the Sea Lord want with a lighthouse?” asked Ilmarė, feigning ignorance.  

Arias laughed.  Ilmarė hated the sound.  “I have no idea, but it doesn’t really matter.  As you well know, m’lady, long life has its advantages.  We’ll enjoy the Sea Lord’s money long after he’s dead!” He laughed again, as if the jest wasn’t in appalling taste.

“Charming,” said Ilmarė. 

The music ended. Arias thanked Ilmarė for the pleasure of her company and walked her to her seat. 

“Are you interested in music? I’m quiet the talent you know.”

Ilmarė decided she was tiring of Arias.  “I am trained in the bardic arts,” she said.  

Arias’ eyebrows shot up.  “Really?  That’s fantastic!  You must sing for us!”

Ilmarė blanched.  “Oh, no, I don’t really think…”

Arias shouted to the musicians.  “Do you know the Song of the Five Princes?” The musicians smoothly switched from a structured dance set to something much more melancholy. “I’ll sing the basso.”

“I…” she struggled to remember the words.  Ilmarė did remember the song; it was so long ago.  But when she sang, the words came to her as if it were only yesterday.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1g: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

The entire ballroom stopped to listen to Ilmarė and Arias’ duet.

“A leben caun thar Ennui Aeair!” sang Ilmarė.  She sang of the Five Princes beyond the western seas.

“Nay a dancer, eh?” asked a tall man in red leggings and a black jacket. 

“Dwarves don’t dance,” said Beldin with a sniff.  “Not these kinds of dances anyway.”

“Calad ammen i reniar,” sang Arias.  He sang of a light to wander by.

“I know what ye mean. Th' name’s Xavier Gordon, captain o' th' Bloody Sea.”

Beldin nodded back at him.  “Beldin Soulforge. The Bloody Sea, hmm?  That’s the name of your ship?” He continued to sip from his mug.  

Xavier chuckled.  “Aye. Tho I suppose ye wouldn’t know o' such things, bein' a dwarf an' all.”

“Mi 'aladhremmin Onara,” sang Ilmarė.  She spoke of wandering amid the tree-woven lands of Onara.

“Don’t be so sure,” said Beldin.  He peered into the contents of his mug. “I’ve had my share of sharks.  Even eaten sea urchin once.”

Xavier’s dour attitude changed instantly.  “So ye BE a man o' th' sea,” he clapped Beldin on the back. “Sailin' th' seas be 'ere a man belongs!”

Arias sang, “a Osalian Gilthoniel.”  He spoke of Osalian, the Star-Kindler.

“So you’re a pirate then?” asked Beldin.

Xavier’s expression soured.  “I prefer privateer. I’ve got th' interests o' Freeport at heart.”

Beldin took another swig from his mug.  “Oh right. Like Captain Baldric.”

“I chin a thûl lín míriel,” sang Ilmarė.  She described Osalian’s eyes and breath like shining jewels.

“Let me ask ye something,” said Xavier.  “Ye’re a dwarf, ye know about stone works. What do ye think o' this lighthouse Milton be building?”

“I think it takes a dwarf half the time it takes men to build such things,” said Beldin without hesitation.  “And it takes men with something to hide four times as long.”

“Et Eärello Onara utúlien,” sang Arias.  Out of the Great Sea to Onara came Osalian.

“Aye,” said Xavier.  “Somethin' t' hide indeed. Two days ago I saw somethin' e'en stranger.”

“Oh?” asked Beldin.

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta,” sang Ilmarė.  In his new home, Osalian would abide with his heirs, until the end of the world.

“Thar be a mysterious ship that slipped into a secluded area near th' lighthouse in th' dark o' night. 't be offloadin' cargo an' passengers.”

“That is strange,” said Beldin.

Ilmarė curtseyed and Arias bowed.  The crowd broke into wild applause.  Some people were sniffling back tears.  Beldin and Xavier were too preoccupied to notice.

“That’s nay th’ strange part,” said Xavier.  “One o’ th’ passengers had a long, reptilian tail.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1h: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

The musicians resumed their set as a throng of admirers crowded Ilmarė and Arias. 

“Will you give me the pleasure of dancing with you?” asked Kham of the green-haired, green-eyed woman in a tight-fitting aqua-colored gown.

She smiled back at him with no hint of shyness.  “Certainly.”

Kham led her onto the dance floor.  “I’m Kham val’Abebi.”

“Sister Gwendolyn,” she replied.  A jeweled miniature trident hung from a silver necklace.

“A priestess of Yarris?” Kham bowed as the music began.  “I am doubly honored!”

“You flatter me.” The priestess curtseyed back.  “But enough of niceties, tell me of the heroism that earned you such a prestigious award.”

“A little of this, a little of that.” Kham spun her into another waltz. “As a priestess of Yarris, surely you have an opinion about Drac’s lighthouse.”

“I do indeed,” said Gwendolyn.  “I’ve heard many odd things.”

Kham slowly spun her out and then brought her back to him.  “Such as?”

“Strange noises and lights from the top of the lighthouse,” she said.  “And strange dead things at the bottom.”

“Now that’s interesting.  What kind of dead things.”

“Two horrible creatures with the head of an owl and the body of a bear,” she said with the slightest hint of a frown.  

Kham couldn’t keep from staring at her hair.  It really was a dark shade of green. “Owlbears,” he said matter-of-factly.

“The librarian at the Temple of Althares said he had never seen one before,” Gwendolyn replied. “I suppose it only makes sense that one as well-traveled as you would know of such things.  He said they were well-known on the continent.”

“That must be Lucius,” said Kham.  He took a deep breath.  Gwendolyn had a scent about her that reminded him of the fresh ocean air.  It was intoxicating.

“You know Lucius?  You do know everybody, Master Kham.”

“Not everybody,” said Kham, “but I’m glad to hear Lucius is staying out of trouble.”

Gwendolyn watched Kham with lidded eyes as they came to the end of the waltz.  “I get the impression you know all about trouble.”

Kham led Sister Gwendolyn off the dance floor and over to her seat.  “Unfortunately, trouble knows all about me.”

A bow and a grin later, and Kham disappeared into the crowd.


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 1i: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Another fellow joined Vlad, Thuron, Baldric, and Hector at the table.

“Be havin’ enough room fer another sea dog?” 

Baldric grinned widely.  “Of course!  We haven’t seen you in awhile, Brock.  Have you met our resident hero, Vlad?”

The overweight Brock wore a black tricorn, white hose, and black pants.  He flumped into a seat.

“Nay personally,” he said, grabbing another mug.  “But I know enough about th' lad t' drink wi' him.”

Vlad smiled uncertainly back at him.  He wasn’t accustomed to so much attention.

Brock took a long swig from his drink while Baldric and Hector discussed the legends about the dreaded Cult of Leviathan.  

“Speakin' o' cults,” said Brock, “I think I’ve stumbled upon something.”

“Oh?” asked Thuron. Hector looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Can I speak wi' ye, Vlad?” He glanced over his shoulder to see Baldric and Thuron leading forward intently.  “Alone?”

Vlad excused himself and left the table with Thuron.

When they were in one of the sitting rooms, Brock took off his hat.  “I know ye’ve jus' met me, but I felt ye be me best hope. I think ye understand that…thar’s a situation wi' th' lighthouse. I think ye can appreciate that.”

Vlad nodded.  “I sure can.”

“I tell ye, lad, th' lighthouse be a powerful, magical device. I think th' Sea Lord plans t' use 't t' summon an army o' monsters t' attack th' mainland an' brin' glory t' Freeport. But I don’t think he can control 't. I don’t know if he can dictate what comes through th' gate, or e'en control what comes ou' o' it.”

Vlad was taken aback.  He suspected something was wrong with the lighthouse, but nothing as drastic as Brock described. “Have you spoken to anyone about this?”

“I tried once,” said Brock.  He scratched the top of his bald pate.  “Drac threatened t' kill me whole family. `Tis got me up nights, that`s th' truth.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Brock began to pace with his arms behind his back. 

“Th' right decision. Sometimes 'tis hard t' figure ou' what that be. Ye understand?”

Vlad nodded.

“I think thar’s only one way. We’re goin' t' be havin' t' kill th' lad. Here. Now.”

Vlad squinted at Brock. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. I know ye can do 't. I can lure Drac into this room. Ye follow th' lad in, do what ye need t' do, an' then escape ou' one o' th' windows an' climb o'er th' wall. When things calm down, th' truth about Drac be sure t' be revealed. Ye’ll be hailed as heroes fer thwartin' his plan.”

Vlad crossed his arms.  “I don’t know about this.”

Brock put one hand on Vlad’s shoulder. “Ye be havin' t' be sure. Think hard, Vlad. If we’re goin' t' move on this, thar canna be th' least wee shred o' doubt. I need t' know if ye be havin' proof that Drac’s behind all this.”

“I do,” said Vlad.  

“Would ye be willin' t' swear before a judge an' jury…e'en take an oath before Sarish himself?

“I’ve seen the proof with my own eyes.”

“That's what I thought,” Brock’s lips became a grim line. “Then we have' t' kill him.”


----------



## talien

*Terror in Freeport - Part 1j: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

There was a knock at the door.  

Brock drew a knife from his belt and backed up against the wall.  He nodded to Vlad.

Vlad opened the door.  Standing in the doorway was…

A pimply faced teen. Thuron had his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Young Master Bedwyr here wanted to meet his hero,” said Thuron, his eyes scanning the room.  “I thought you might have time to speak to him.”

“Uh…now’s really not—“

Bedwyr stepped into the room and out of Thuron’s grasp. “Wow are you really Vlad Martell?!”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  He looked over at Brock, who stepped out from behind the door.

“I’ll be going,” said Brock.  He lowered his voice so only Vlad could hear. “If ye change yer mind, let me know.” Then he ducked out of the room. 

“What was that all about?” asked Thuron.

“Nothing,” said Vlad.  He smiled down at Bedwyr.  “Yes, I’m Vlad.”

“Did you really cut all those peoples’ heads off with one swipe of your sword?  I read that in The Shipping News.  Is that true?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“I think it’s great!” said Bedwyr.  “On behalf of Freeport’s pure of heart, I would like to thank you for saving us from those horrible snake people.”

“I think my reputation for killing people is a little exaggerated.” 

“I hope to be a hero myself one day,” said Bedwyr.  “Are you looking for a squire?”

Vlad pushed past Thuron and Bedwyr. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

Bedwyr watched Vlad’s retreating back. “He seems sad.”

“There’s a fine line between a warrior,” Thuron nodded towards Vlad, “and a murderer.”  He focused on Brock, who had slunk over to the bar. 

“What’s the difference?”

“His surroundings,” said Thuron.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1k: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

Kham was on his way to the bar when a raven-haired beauty intercepted him.

“I know you,” said the young woman with a lopsided smile.  “You’re Kham, the adventurer!”

“That’s one of my professions,” said Kham, gesturing for two drinks from a nearby servant.  “But I don’t have the pleasure of your name…”

A servant handed Kham two goblets

“You can call me Margy,” she chirped.  “Margy Roth.”

Kham inclined his head, amused.  “Daughter of Torsten Roth, the head of the Merchant’s Guild?”

“The same,” said Margy.  Her smile widened into a grin as Kham handed her one of the goblets.

“As a genuine hero of Freeport, you must tell me all about your adventures!”  She took a long slurp from the mug.  “Surely you must have come across quite a bit of baubles as you loot dragon lairs, steal from titan treasuries, pilfer from kings...”

Kham nearly coughed.  He looked around.  “Isn’t that your father over there?”

Margy refused to look over her shoulder.  “Oh, is he?  I didn’t notice.”

Kham smirked.  He knew exactly what she was doing.  An aristocratic young lady with a man of ill character such as himself would certainly cause a stir, especially with her father. 

Kham was only too willing to oblige her. “You’re not even slightly interested in Drac’s lighthouse, are you?”

“That silly old thing?” Margy dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand.  “Goodness, no.  I’m much more interested in you.”

Kham put one arm around Margy and wheeled her to one of the private rooms.  It just so happened that the path was in front of Torsten.  “Then you and I have much to talk about.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1l: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

“Master Soulforge, a moment if you please.”

Beldin whirled around to see an older man with brown hair and eyes in a red robe.  He walked with the aid of a gnarled staff. “Yes?”

“I was just talking to my apprentice Glenfield here,” he gestured to a fidgety gnome, who peeked out from behind the wizard’s taller form, “about the quality of summoning stones in a structure and I thought you might know something about it.”  The older man smiled.  “I’m sorry, where are my manners?  I’m Tarmon, High Wizard of the Wizard’s Guild.”

Beldin excused himself from his conversation with Xavier.  “Nice to meet you Tarmon.”

“Glenfield, get Burkhart, we’re going to be leaving in a few minutes.  These late night balls are for the young.”

Glenfield darted over to a small cage in one corner of the room.  Beldin watched him open it to retrieve the toad.

“Who’s Burkhart?” asked Beldin.

“Oh, that’s my toad familiar.” Tarmon made a sympathetic noise.  “Poor thing hasn’t aged well.  He’s just not all there anymore.”

Behind Tarmon, Glenfield looked up with a horrified expression. The toad wasn’t in its cage.

“So as I was saying, I was wondering what a dwarf might think of summoning stones in structures.  It’s been quite the topic of debate in wizardly circles.”

Beldin had difficulty focusing on the conversation.  “What in particular would you like to know?”

Glenfield made eye contact with Beldin.  He put his hands together in the dwarf’s direction, as if in prayer.  Then he made a rotating motion with his fingers.  He wanted Beldin to keep Tarmon busy while he looked for the toad.

“Well, some of the wizards believe that summoning stones placed in a structure would actually turn the structure itself into a gate of sorts.”

Beldin nodded, answering both Tarmon and Glenfield at the same time.

“I’m of two minds,” said Tarmon.  “On the one hand, I think the effect of summoning stones will be diluted by the irregular form of said structure.”

Glenfield started running from table to table, peeking under the tablecloths.

“That’s possible,” said Beldin.  “The dwarves of Solanos Mor have long used stones to control gates to realms of darkness.”

Glenfield turned towards Beldin and threw up his hands in frustration. Something gray and wet hopped quickly behind him.

“On the other hand, it’s possible that enough stones will actually enhance the power of the building, by focusing towards a convergent point.”

Beldin tried to indicate the toad’s direction with his chin, but he succeeded in just wiggling his nose.

“Are you all right?” asked Tarmon, concerned.  “You seem to have an itch.”

Glenfield understood.  He spun around to look.

Beldin covered it with a cough.  “Sorry, I’m not accustomed to the Freeport air.”

“It’s the moisture,” Tarmon nodded sympathetically. “I feel it more and more in my bones as I get older.”

Glenfield pointed in the direction of where the toad had hopped, one hand over his mouth.  

Burkhart hopped right under the skirts of a throng of young women, huddled deep in conversation about Kham.

Then somebody screamed.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 1m: The Sea Lord’s Palace*

The music came to a sudden halt as a man wearing a long, brown robe tied by a dirty rope-belt shuffled into the room. He wore the green mask of a yawning serpent. 

Vlad and Beldin nodded to each other from across the room and began shoving their way through the crowd towards the intruder. 

People move aside as the stranger reached the center of the room. In a raspy voice, he spoke. “Heed me well! The words of an old man should not be ignored. In the ancient scriptures of Yig, it is written:

The Yellowed Sign once again shall appear.
Then the time for Yig’s revenge will be near.
As the finger of evil rises toward heaven,
One must pay heed to the calling of his brethren.
Search below the waves for that which was unmade,
And return with the Serpent carved of Jade.
When the madness is unleashed upon the land,
The icon of jade alone shall stand.
The end of the creature from outside
Contained within the Serpent deep inside.”

The masked man took in the room with a sweep of one hand.  “Remember these verses well, citizens of Freeport. The prophecies of Yig do not lie.”

Then he turned into a snake. A guard stepped forward to stab the serpent with a spear, but it vanished in a puff of smoke.

Thuron caught up to Vlad and grabbed him by the elbow.  “That was no accident.  I may be able to interpret that prophecy, but I must return to the Temple of Althares to do some research first.  Meet me there.”  The disguised ssanu made his way towards the exit.

Drac shouted a command and the band struck up a tune.  Many of the party guests seemed to determine to resume their festivities. 

Beldin met Vlad at the door.  Ilmarė pulled a half-dressed Kham behind her.  

“Time to go,” she said.

“But I was busy,” grumble Kham.  He blew a kiss to Margy.

“I know what kind of busy that was,” said Ilmarė.  “And we’re after a different kind of serpent. Let’s go.”

And with that, she half-dragged Kham out of the ballroom.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 2: Gareth the Old Sea Dog*

Kham stood before a two-story building made of wood, with three windows facing the street on each floor.  

”Well, we’re at 45 Masthead Lane, so this must be the place.”

“And we’re sure this Gareth knew Black Dog?” asked Vlad.

Kham shrugged.  “Thuron believes Black Dog the pirate found the entrance to a sunken ssanu temple.”

“That assumes that the temple hasn’t been swept out to sea,” said Ilmarė.” And that the Jade Serpent of Yig is still within it.”

“Only one way to find out,” said Kham.  The knocker on the door was carved in the shape of a three-masted ship. He used it to knock on the door three times.

A moment later, the door creaked open a crack. A squinty-eyed elderly man in his seventies hobbled up to the opening.  He had a huge scar across his left eye.

“Who be it?”

“We’re here to—“

“Nay interested!”  The door slammed shut.

Kham sighed.  He looked at Ilmarė.  “You’ve got breasts.  You talk to him.”

“What?”

Kham stepped sideways and nudged Ilmarė towards the door.  She glared over her shoulder at the val.  Then she knocked.

The door creaked open again.  “I told ye I don’t want…” The old man’s tone changed as he took in Ilmarė’s form.  “Well, hello thar lass.  What can I do fer ye?”

Ilmarė sighed.  “We’d like to speak to you about Black Dog’s Caves.”

“O’ course ye do.  Well, come in then.”

Gareth turned and hobbled away from the door.  His left leg was replaced with a peg. Gareth walked with the help of a crutch under one arm. 

“I know what ye wants. 't’s th' booty o' Black Dog 'tis. I reckon me days wi' th' lad well. We frightened ever' merchant from here t' th' mainland. Heh! Them be th' days!”

He grunted and groaned as he led them to a small, cramped room, with just one stool.  Gareth hopped up onto it.

“O' course me accident set me back fer a while. I fell through th' riggin' ye know. Damn near broke me back, I did. That’s why I be havin' t' use this crutch an' all. Now I be getting’ old, an' I don’t be havin' much treasure.

“I know where this is going,” said Kham. He fished around in one of his many belt pouches.

“I could tell ye 'ere th' caves be, but what good would that do me? I be only a poor, old jack wi' a half-broken back an' nay much treasure left. Can ye spare some coin fer a crippled, old man? I won’t steer ye wrong.”

Kham took out two bullets and placed them on the remaining stool. Gareth squinted at the bullets in confusion.

Ilmarė put one hand out.  “I don’t think that’s necessary.” She turned back to Gareth.  “You seem ill at ease.”  She smiled a dazzling smile. “I would like to sing for you, with your permission.”

Gareth seemed surprised.  He nodded his assent. 

Ilmarė sang.  Her voice soared. Higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dared to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into the drab little cage of Freeport and made the walls dissolve away...and for the briefest of moments—every last man in Old City felt free.

Gareth and Vlad wiped tears from their eyes. Kham adjusted his lenses.  Beldin just snorted in disbelief at the whole thing.

“I be havin' nay idee what ye jus' sang about,” said Gareth. “Truth be, I dasn't want t' know. Some things be best left unsaid. But I like t' think ye be singin' about somethin' so beautiful that 't canna be expressed in words, an' 't makes me heart ache on accoun' o' o' 't.” 

Gareth leaned forward and patted Ilmarė’s hand.  “Thank ye very much. Now, th' trick t' findin' th' caves be th' tides. Ye be havin' t' go only a wee miles west along th' coast until ye be seein' two tall stones stickin' up ou' o' th' water. They be tall, almost a full mast high. When th' tides be low, a cave will appear on th' isle, arrr. All ye be havin' t' do be get yer boat in th' cave. Once inside, I can’t be much help t' ye. I be nere let inside, but I know 't’s dangerous. Black Dog sure did love his booty!”

They thanked Gareth and stepped out of his ramshackle home.

“That was beautiful,” said Vlad to Ilmarė.  “What did you sing about?”

“It was actually a satire about farmers,” she said.  “Not that he could tell the difference, since he doesn’t speak elorii.”

“See?” said Kham.  “Never underestimate the power of breasts.”

Ilmarė smacked him upside the head.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 3: A Swift-Moving Current*

The tunnel beyond the cave entrance was narrow and damp. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the sound of the surf echoed all around them. 

“Nice of Baldric to let us borrow his boat,” said Vlad.

Beldin held on for dear life as they entered the partially submerged tunnel.  Kham held the rudder while Vlad rowed.  Ilmarė stood at the prow.

“Yeah,” said Kham.  “Well, Baldric’s got his eyes on the Captain’s Council.  The more Councilors we eliminate, the more likely he’ll have a shot at getting elected to one of the open slots.”

After traveling a short distance, the sound of rushing water became deafening as their boat began to move quickly in a swift current. 

“Hold on!” shouted Kham. 

The tunnel wound to the left and then back the right as the boat careened wildly down into darkness.  The rowboat slammed hard into a rock in the water.  The boat jerked sideways.

There was a SPLOOSH! 

“Beldin?” asked Kham from the back.

Beldin blinked and looked over the edge.  “That wasn’t me.”

Ilmarė’s reply could be heard further down the tunnel.  “Kham, you are the worst sailor ever.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 4: The Watcher*

The boat was thrust out of the narrow tunnel and into a large chamber. Stalactites dotted the ceiling at least fifty feet above the surface of a dark, underground lake. There were tunnels leading out of the chamber on either side. Another tunnel was barely visible at the far end of the cavern. Two beaches flanked the tunnel to the left. 

“There’s something glittering on that beach.” Beldin pointed to the closest beach.

“Forget the beach,” shouted Vlad. He threw a lasso out to the elorii, who was treading water. “Grab Ilmarė!” 

Two eddies of water plowed right towards her from either side of the lake.

“Grab the rope Ilmarė!”  Vlad and Beldin took hold.

Ilmarė slipped the rope around her waist.  “Got it.”

“Okay, now we’re going to—“

Vlad and Beldin were both nearly yanked out of the boat as Ilmarė disappeared into the murky depths.  

“PULL!” shouted Vlad.

Milandisian and dwarf yanked hard on the rope.  Ilmarė appeared, sputtering. 

“Are you two trying to tear me in half?  There’s something trying to eat me down there!”

“PULL!” shouted Vlad.  Ilmarė was unceremoniously flopped up onto the prow of the boat.

“Well, at least you're safe—“

WHAM!  The boat spun around in lazy circles as the boat hit something, hard.

“Kham…” said Ilmarė.  

“Don’t look at me.” Kham peered down into the water.  “There are no rocks in this part of the lake.

“Your friends aren’t giving up so easily,” Vlad said to Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shook out her hair.  “That’s very helpful, thanks.”

“Make for the shore,” said Bledin. “I saw something glittering over there.”

Kham turned the rudder hard.  “I don’t know about this guys. You can’t just figure that’s the Jade Serpent of Yig sitting out on the beach.”

WHAM!  The boat nearly tipped over that time.

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Ilmarė.

Kham shrugged.

“Then Beldin, Vlad,” Ilmarė said, taking her bow from the boat and knocking an arrow. “Row like your lives depend on it!”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 5: The Shining Saber*

As they rowed closer to the beach, they could see what was glittering from far off.  It was a saber, stuck in the sand. The saber appeared to be untarnished, and it reflected light. 

“Uh, guys,” said Kham. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

The boat thumped against the beach as it landed.  Whatever was in the lake had decided to leave them alone for the moment.

“It’s just a saber,” said Beldin. He hopped out of the boat, happy to be on dry land.

“It’s not the saber I’m worried about.” Kham pointed at the beach. The beach was littered with skeletons, some of which still wore rusted armor and wielded corroded weapons. “That’s nature’s way of letting you know that you shouldn’t mess with shiny things on beaches.”  He patted Fleshripper in its scabbard.  “Trust me, I speak from personal experience.”

Beldin harrumphed. “It’ll be a dark day before a dwarf becomes afraid of picking up a ready blade.”  He yanked the saber out of the corpse it was sticking out of.  He held it up, waiting for the corpse to react.

Nothing happened.  Beldin kicked the skull and it rolled into the water’s edge.  “See?  Nothing.”

Then he heard the babbling.  It was a persistent muttering whine that threatened to upend Beldin’s universe.  He had a brief, irrational moment where he seriously wanted to run himself through with the saber.

“Dîn!” shouted Ilmarė.  All became silent.

Beldin looked down at the sword.  If it had been the blade, the elorii’s magic shut it up.

The dwarf looked up at his companions, still on the boat.  They were gesturing frantically and pointing behind him.

He whirled, only to stare straight into the face of madness itself.  A wafting cloak of darkness in the vague shape of a death shroud undulated before him.  It reached out and through him…

And then he was Black Dog’s first mate, Ironfoot.  He saw Ironfoot slowly become warped with paranoia, convinced that everyone was out to steal the saber from him.  Eventually, it made him so paranoid that he killed his lover, Isabella.  Overcome with grief, Ironfoot killed himself by driving the saber through his chest.

Beldin shook his head.  Vlad had lassoed a rope around him and they were dragging him away from the beach.  They were mouthing something, but the magical silence prevented him from hearing it.

Then he left the sphere.

“Drop the saber!”

“Drop it!”

“Drop the saber you greedy idiot!”

Beldin tossed the saber back onto the beach. The apparition didn’t follow him, wailing silently over the weapon.

Vlad pushed with one of the oars and they were back in the underground lake, safe and away from the madness, if only for a moment.

Kham looked down at Fleshripper and shivered.  “I have got to get rid of this thing.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 6: Illusion Trap*

They emerged from a narrow tunnel into a large, natural cavern. A slim strip of beach lay along the far wall. Ten large, ironbound chests sat on the sand. 

“I’ll go this time,” said Ilmarė.  Beldin was still weak from the attack, confused and muttering to himself about a woman named Isabella.  

“Once again,” said Kham, “THAT is a sign that we should not go onto this beach.” He pointed at a skeleton that lay half in the water and half on the beach. Its arms were stretched longingly toward the chests.

“We need to find the Jade Serpent of Yig,” said Ilmarė.  “And I don’t see how we’re going to do it by sitting in the boat.”

Kham shrugged.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ilmarė huffed.  “Fine.  You warned me.  Now, I’m off to find the statue.”  She hopped out of the boat onto the beach. 

A blast of electricity arced from the wall behind the chests, sizzling the elorii.  She fell backwards into the water.

When she arose, her hair was frizzed out in all directions.  Ilmarė put one finger up.  “Not a word.  Not ONE word.”

Kham wisely didn’t say anything.

Ilmarė took another step onto the beach, but this time nothing happened.  When she reached for the chests, her hand went right through them.

“An illusion!” she shrieked.  “I don’t believe this!”

“Well, actually,” said Kham, “we did believe it or we wouldn’t have fallen for the trap in the first place.”

Ilmarė clambered back into the boat and crossed her arms.  “I hope Black Dog’s really dead.  Because if he isn’t, I’m going to kill him.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 7: Deadly Spikes*

A huge, natural chamber loomed before them. Sand filled the floor of the chamber, and the water lapped against it rhythmically. 

“Okay,” said Vlad, “so according to Kham, this beach is also trapped.” He nodded toward the right. 

Near the shore off to the right was a skeleton impaled by a large stake jutting up out of the sand. As more of the chamber came into view, they could see at least two more skeletons impaled the same way.

“Spike traps,” said Kham.  “Buried in the sand.”

“Great,” Ilmarė smoothed down her hair again. “Since you’re the expert on traps, you tell us what to do.”

Kham took off his lenses and polished them on his jacket.  “I’m an expert at avoiding traps, not setting them off.  That’s Beldin’s job.”

“Okay!” said Beldin.  He stepped off of the boat.  

“No, Beldin wait!” shouted Vlad.

The dwarf squinted to his right.  “I think I see the outline of a secret door.” He began to wander over to it.

FWHIP!  A long stake sprang up to the left of Beldin. 

“Beldin, stop moving!”

FWHIP!  A long stake sprang up to the right of him.  The dwarf continued, heedless of all warnings.  

“I think that ghost rattled his brain,” said Kham.

FWHIP! Another stake would have impaled him in the head, had he been the same height as a human.  Beldin touched on the wall and part of it slid away.

“Yep, it’s a secret door all right,” he said with one too many nods.

Vlad and Ilmarė glared at Kham.

“What?  He found the secret door, didn’t he?”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 8: Black Dog’s Treasure*

When the huge door was opened, a low moan seemed to come from the walls of the chamber itself. There were nine chests lining the walls.

“Finally,” said Beldin.  “This must be the real treasure!”

Vlad pulled out his crossbow.  “Careful Beldin.  Stand behind me.”

The dwarf looked over at him in irritation.  “Why should I?”

“Because you’re not feeling well,” said Ilmarė.  “And your judgment seems to be impaired.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Beldin.  

The moaning continued until suddenly a figure rose up through the floor, glowing with an eerie, greenish light. He wielded a saber, wore tall boots, a long frock coat, and a hat with a feather in it.

“So that’s what Black Dog looks like,” said Kham.  “It’s just an illusion, ignore it.”

Floating in the center of the room, the apparition pointed its saber at Kham and spoke in a loud, booming voice: “Who dares disturb th' booty o' Black Dog? Ye cannot hope t' stand before me! Leave now, an' nay harm will come t' ye. Stay t' seek yer fortune, an' ye be doomed t' everlastin' damnation!”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “Very convincing. He’s harmless.”  Kham stepped around the specter and walked towards one of the chests.

The specter growled and floated over to Kham.  

“Kham,” said Ilmarė, “I’m not so sure—“

The specter swung its saber at Kham’s head.  It bounced off an invisible shield.  The val didn’t seem to notice.

With a roar, Beldin charged forward with his axe.  Vlad fired his crossbow.  Ilmarė unleashed a barrage of arrows from the shortbow that once belonged to the ssanu cultist K’Ral. 

“Now how to get these chests open,” Kham muttered to himself as his comrades engaged the specter.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 9: The Serpent Portal*

The boat landed on a beach facing a wide, curved, jade wall covered by a mural depicting two ssanu in red robes, standing on the summit of a jade tower shaped in the form of a coiled snake. The hands of the ssanu were raised to the sky, and far below a throng of serpent people looked on. 

“Well, Black Dog’s treasure didn’t have the statue,” said Vlad.  “So I really hope it’s behind this door.”

Between the two robed figures was an enormous, stone doorway. In the center of the door, a bas-relief cobra was carved out of the green stone. The mouth of the cobra jutted out further than the rest of the relief, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Beneath the cobra was writing in some strange script.

Ilmarė scanned the text.  “It reads, ‘All those who would enter the temple must pass the test of the fangs.  Reach into the mouth of Yig, and your courage will be rewarded.’”

Beldin stepped up to it.  “Obviously, this is a trap only a dwarf can handle.  I’m sure it’s poisoned.”  He thrust his hand into the serpent’s mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Vlad.

“YAAA!” Beldin jerked his arm out of the door, flailing backwards.  A stream of green liquid sprayed from the serpent’s mouth into Beldin’s face. 

“Beldin!” shouted Ilmarė.  “Are you all right?”

The dwarf was pale.  “Contact poison,” he whispered, licking his lips.  “Tastes like…dragon bile.”

“Great.  Half his mind was gone already.” Ilmarė helped the dwarf to his feet. “Now he’s poisoned.” She glared at Kham. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?  I didn’t tell him to touch the door!”

“You know he’s not right in the head!” she shouted.  “He keeps opening traps because he thinks he’s the only one brave enough to withstand them.”  She looked back at the dwarf, whose eyes were glazed over. Ilmarė patted Beldin’s hand.  “I’m starting to think he’s right,” she said softly.

Vlad took an antidote from his belt pouch and poured it down Beldin’s throat. “He’s the toughest dwarf I know,” said Vlad.  “He’ll make it.”

“Oh, fine, fine.”  Kham rolled up one sleeve.  “I’ll do it.”  He walked up to the door and took a deep breath. “Here goes everything.”

Kham thrust his arm into the serpent’s mouth.  It felt as if the jaws of the serpent were closing over his arm.  Pain shot up through his fingertips and pulsed at his shoulder.  Kham’s fingertips brushed the edge of a doorknob.  He strained his fingertips outward.

Every instinct screamed for him to remove his arm. It felt as if the flesh were peeling off his bones. Then he got hold of the doorknob.  He turned it hard and the door opened.

Kham jerked his hand out of the serpent’s mouth.  His hand was fine.

“Dwarves have stubby arms,” said Kham.  “Maybe I should stick to taking care of the traps from now on.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 10: The High Altar of Yig*

They emerged from the water into a circular room. Spaced along the walls every ten feet were carved serpent heads with balls of glowing light between their fangs. To your left was another ramp leading down. A marble altar carved with serpents sat in the center of the wall. Numerous large, round pillows were spread about on the floor of the room. They gave the place a damp, musty smell.

Vlad shook his head to get the water out of his ears.  “Well, at least we have something to show for our efforts this time,” he said.  He held up a golden chain with an amulet shaped like a serpent’s head. 

“This place is haunted by a lot of old memories,” said Kham.  “I’m surprised we haven’t encountered more.”

“Speaking of spirits…” Ilmarė nodded towards a barely visible shape in front of the altar.  

The ghostly ssanu’s head jerked up.  It turned to them in a low, moaning voice, its words in a heavily accented version of the common tongue. “At lasst. At lasst living ssoulss are come to help uss. Yesss. Help uss you can. Alissstar is my name, and the high priest I wass of thiss temple.”

“So uh, Alissstar,” Vlad had his longsword out, still dripping wet from the watery chamber they traversed to get to the altar room, “you’re not going to attack us like the others?”

“Not I,” said Alissstar. “The othersss are filled with rage. Ssince the day of desstruction, me and my brethren have wandered thesse hallss. Doomed to exisst for all time. Doomed to live with our failure. Yig has abandoned uss!”

Ilmarė squeezed water out one of her sleeves.  “Serves you right for enslaving my people.”

“But you can help. Yess, you can. Do as I wissh, and I will give you what you sseek.”

“And what you wish is…?” asked Kham.

“If I can complete a ritual to Yig, it will lift the curssse.  To accomplisssh thisss, I must have four itemsss: the Amulet of the Ssserpent which I sssee you have found already, the Fangsss of the Ssserpent, the Venom of the Ssserpent, and the Ssscales of the Ssserpent.”

“And in return you will give us the Jade Serpent of Yig?” asked Vlad.

“Yesss.”

“Why should we trust you?” asked Ilmarė.  “Who’s to say you won’t just disappear with the artifacts once we find them?”

“We mussst trussst each other.”

“Uh huh,” said Kham.  “Fine.”  

Vlad threw the amulet to Alissstar.  It flew right through him and landed on the altar.  “Oops, sorry,” said Vlad.

“Where are these artifacts anyway?” asked Ilmarė, rubbing her temples.

“I do not know their exact locationsss,” replied Alissstar.  “I sssuggessst you asssk the other priessstsss you meet in the temple.”

“You’ve been down here for hundreds—maybe thousands—of years,” Ilmarė began to pace. “You’ve basically got nothing to do with yourself but mope around down here.  These four artifacts are the only things that can put you to eternal rest. And YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE?” Ilmarė threw up her hands.  “Now I know why the elorii overthrew your people,” she shouted.  “Because you’re a bunch of idiots!”

She stalked out of the room and down the ramp.

Vlad smiled sheepishly at Alissstar.  “She’s been having a bad day. We’ll bring the artifacts back to you soon.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 11: Prayer Room*

The long room followed the curve of the outside wall of the temple. The walls were covered with a mosaic of a large serpent. Its tail began near the door, and the body wound along the outside wall, culminating in a fanged head at the far end of the room. 

Kham lowered his lenses.  “Any artifacts in here?”

Ilmarė sighed.  “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to come running just because you asked.”

“Whoa,” said Kham.  “Don’t look at the snake’s eyes.”

“What snake?” asked Beldin. 

“Vlad,” said Ilmarė, “cover Beldin’s eyes too.”

Before Beldin could look, Vlad looked down at the ground and covered Beldin’s eyes with one hand.  

“What?” muttered Beldin in confusion.

The eyes of the mosaic serpent glowed with a green light. In front of the head was a stone table on which a large book rests. Kham gingerly stepped past four large piles of dust shaped like serpents.

When he reached the stone table, Kham lifted the book off of it.  The volume was written entirely in Valossan.  “The Society should like this.”  

Ilmarė had her eyes closed.  “What’s the problem?

“I had the overwhelming urge to kill you all,” said Kham, returning to the entrance with book in hand. “Now, I have that urge a lot these days.  But usually it’s when Fleshripper is in my hands.  I think it had something to do with the snake.” 

“Think that’s the Scales of the Serpent?” asked Ilmarė hopefully.  The book was covered with mottled serpent skin.

“No,” said Kham.

“Damn it!” shouted Ilmarė.  She stomped off down the hallway.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 12: Infirmary*

The walls on either side of the room were lined with rotting sedan chairs. Along the far wall was a stone table with a shelf above it holding various jars.

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  “More snakes.”

Most of the chairs were empty, but two of them contain the shadowy forms of Valossan serpent priests. 

“Come clossser,” said one of them.  It motioned with barely visible hands for them to advance. 

“One of you had better have an artifact of the Serpent,” said Ilmarė.  She drew her serpent bow and knocked an arrow.  “Don’t let the bow fool you, I have no love for your kind.”

“We will make an exchange,” said another.  “We will ssshare information in exchange for a quick death.”

Ilmarė lowered her bow, surprised.

“It must be torturous, living like this,” said Vlad. “You’ve got a deal.”

“If you ssseek the Ssscalessss of the Ssserpent, you mussst defeat Vrosssh, the warrior priessst.  He wearsss the Ssscalesss.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “Kill them and let’s get out of here.”

“Not ssso fassst,” said the first ssanu shade.  “The armor makesss him invulnerable.  There isss a missssssing ssscale jussst under the right breassst.”

“Anything else?” asked Kham.

“The Avatar of Yig isss a giant ssserpent located in the lowessst level of the temple, inssside a great pit usssed for holy sssacrificesss. That isss all we know.”

Kham nodded.  “That’s more information than we’ve gotten from every other rotten thing in here.”

Ilmarė looked as if she were about to say something. Instead, she left the room.  When she called Beldin’s name, he followed after her.

The Milandisian looked around.  He was alone with the shades. The dark smears that passed for the shades’ eyes looked at him piteously.  He hefted Grungronazharr. 

“I don’t think Master Elabac had this in mind for my blade,” he said to no one in particular.  “But I believe it will affect even you.  Please lower your heads.”

And for the first time, Vlad’s beheading reputation was well deserved.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 13: The Serpent Scales*

The large room looked like some sort of gymnasium. Rotted matting covered the floor, and various combat dummies were scattered throughout the area. The walls were lined with racks that held rusting and tarnished weapons of all sorts.

Standing in the center of the room was a shadow ssanu holding a crackling spear and wearing a suit of green scale mail. 

“Finally!” said Ilmarė.  She drew a bead on the ssanu.

In a loud, deep voice, Vrosh spoke. “Come, young onesss. Come for your lessson. You mussst be ssstrong to fight for Yig.” With that, he assumed a fighting stance, brandishing his spear.

An arrow fired straight towards the weakness in Vrosh’s armor but he slapped it out of the air with his spear.  After spinning it a few times, he waved them on.  “That isss not ssstrong enough, young one.”

Beldin rushed him.  His waraxe was deflected sideways by Vrosh’s spear. The dwarf stumbled past the ssanu.

Kham struggled to draw his pistols, but Fleshripper’s call was too great.  He drew the wicked blade with both hands and bore down on the waiting ssanu warrior.  Vrosh stepped aside and smacked Kham in the back of the head with his spear.

“Clumsssy,” Vrosh chastised. 

The ssanu turned to face Vlad, only to discover Grungronazharr jutting just below his right breast.

“A worthy ssstudent,” said Vrosh.  “You have done well.” 

Then he disappeared into mist.  The scale armor and spear collapsed to the ground. 

“Fool.” Ilmarė grabbed the armor.  “This must be the Scales of the Serpent.”

“Don’t mock him,” said Vlad.  He reached down to pick up Vrosh’s weapon.  “He fought with honor.”

“And suddenly you’re Quintus?” asked Kham.

“Leave him be,” said Beldin.  “Vlad’s just remembering who he wanted to be.”

The dwarf left the room. 

“Man,” Kham shook his head.  “He is seriously messed up in the head.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 14: Sseth’s Prison*

Peering through the portal, Kham could see a room completely bare but for the Valossan writing covering every square inch of wall, in many different styles and sizes. 

“Looks like a prison,” he said over his shoulder.

A voice called out from the gloom. “Enter Foolsss! Help you Ssseth can. Yesss! You may be the onesss.”

The same voice responded. “NO! Ssseth isss not sssure.”

“Yesss!” came the voice again. “In you mussst come!”

“Is that thing rhyming?” asked Vlad.

Kham struggled with the door.  Then he stepped back and made a welcoming gesture to Vlad.  Vlad obliged him by bashing the door open with a swift kick.

The room beyond the sealed stone door was crescent shaped and completely bare of any furnishings. 

A voice called them from the back of the room, “to Ssseth you mussst come, young onesss. Ssseth alone can help you. Need you do the Venom of the Ssserpent. Have it Ssseth does.”

“But no!” the same voice said. “Give it to them Ssseth will not!”

Ilmarė rubbed her temples.  “They’ve all gone mad.”

“Who is he arguing with?” asked Vlad.

“Himself,” said Kham.

“Yesss!” said Ssseth. “You mussst!”

“No!”

“Yesss! Yess, give it to you Ssseth sssshall. Only if they anssswer the riddle. Yesss! Only if they anssswer the riddle.”

“No!”

“Yessss! Anssswer it they mussst!”

“I hate to interrupt this conversation,” said Kham.  “But do you by chance know where the Venom of the Serpent is?”

Sseth responded with a riddle: 
“I create life and also nourisssh it.
I contain life and the future for sssome.
I am firssst, although some sssay I came lassst.
I am fragile, yet ssstrong enough to hold preciousss cargo.
What am I?”

“An egg,” said Ilmarė without hesitation.  “You ssanu are dumber than a bag of rocks, I swear.”

“Very good,” said Ssseth.  “You will find the Venom of the Ssserpent in the tail of the ssstatue of Yig on thisss floor.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “Don’t let us interrupt your conversation.”  

He closed the door again behind him.

“I told you the riddle wasss too easssy!”


----------



## Nebulous

Ha, that was funny as hell.


----------



## talien

My wife is a funny gal, and quick-witted too.  On the other hand, I sympathize with anyone putting a riddle in a scenario, especially if it's necessary to succeed.  You don't want to make the riddle too hard, since figuring out a riddle is largely an out-of-character skill. 

The answer to the riddle will have much deeper implications, as you will see.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 15: The Servants of the High Priest*

Kham decided to explore on his own while the others fiddled with the statue of Yig.  He opened a door into a circular chamber. 

The room’s furniture had been separate in a very deliberate fashion. Both sides of the room had a single desk, chair, mattress, and closet. A line was drawn down the center of the room with white chalk. 

“Hurssst is a traitorousss lying ssson of a toad!  You mussst kill him before he betraysss you!  I will help you find the treasssure of the temple!”

Standing on either side of the line were two shadow serpents shouting and pointing their fingers at each other.

“Arnesss is a yellow-bellied dirt eating sssack of ssslime.  He ssseeksss to trick you into doing hisss bidding and killing me.  Kill him firssst before he leadsss you into a trap!”

Kham looked back and forth between the two ssanu.

Then he closed the door.

“Good news.” Vlad caught up to Kham in the hallway.  “That crazy snake was right.  We found the Venom of the Serpent. That makes three items.  What’s in there?”

“Nothing,” said Kham. 

“Now all we need is the Fangs of the Serpent.”

“Why do I get the feeling that the fangs aren’t just lying on a table somewhere?” asked Kham.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 16: Yet Another Statue of Yig*

Kham disappeared again into one of the rooms while Beldin and Ilmarė examined yet another statue of Yig.

It was a tall statue of a coiled snake with its fangs bared. Yellow light shone across the hallway from its eyes. The light fell on a set of double doors with an elaborate carving of a snake upon it.

Vlad walked back from the double doors.  “Locked.  They won’t budge.”

“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.

”What?”

“You’re standing in the path of the light, but it goes right through you,” said Ilmarė. “Nothing seems to block its path to the doors.”

Vlad looked down at his torso.  Then he stepped out of the way of the light.

“The eyes,” said Beldin.  “They have lids. Lower them.”

Vlad climbed up the side of the statue and pulled down on one of the statue’s eyelids.  Stone ground on stone as the lids slowly closed over the eyes and the light winked out.

As the light from the serpent’s eyes was covered, the huge double doors creaked open to reveal a large chamber beyond. 

Kham peeked out around the hallway.  “Oh good, you got the door open.”

“Where were you?” Ilmarė asked.

“Nowhere,” said Kham.  He tucked something white and round into the folds of his jacket.  “Just securing some precious cargo.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 17: The Pit of the Great Serpent*

Beyond the double doors lay an amphitheater shaped like a half-moon. There were five tiers of steps leading down to a shallow pit. The steps were covered with rotting cushions, and long faded tapestries adorned the walls.

“Let me ask you something,” Vlad said to Kham.  “If this cave is only visible when the tide is low.  Doesn’t that mean when the tide rises again, the exit will be underwater?”

Kham blinked.  “Yes.”

“And how long is it until high tide?” 

“I’m not sure,” said Kham, “but it’s been hours since we’ve been in this stinking pit.”

At the center of the pit was a gigantic snake. Its skin was yellow with decay. It reared it head as they entered, baring a set of gleaming white fangs.

“This is the manifestation of Yig, right?” asked Vlad, his blade out.  “How powerful do you think it is?”

“Prepare yourself,” said Beldin.  “It likely wields magic beyond our reckoning.”

“Do you hear yourself?” asked Ilmarė.  “You just used the word ‘reckoning.’ I fear you mind is more scrambled than I thought.”

The snake reared backwards as Vlad and Beldin advanced.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Kham.

BLAM! BLAM!

The snake’s head exploded as Kham’s bullets shattered its rotten skull.

“Someone grab the Fangs and let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 18: Receiving the Jade Serpent*

Alissstar was overjoyed to see them.

“Thank you! Thank you for doing asss I asssked. Pleassse put the artifactsss there on the altar.”

Kham dumped the armor, the vial, and the fangs on the altar.  “There.  We’re kind of in a rush, so if you could speed this up a little…that’d be great.”

“I ssstill need your help,” said Alissstar.

Ilmarė slapped her forehead.

“Due to my ethereal nature, I cannot perform the physssical partsss of the ritual. One of you mussst sssacrifice sssome blood ssso that my people can be sssaved.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Ilmarė.  “The snakes left my people nothing but misery in pain.  You can rot here until the end of time for all I care.”

“It isss true, we will be consssigned to an eternity of sssuffering,” said Alissstar.  Then he added, “but you will never get the Jade Ssserpent.”

“That’s really helpful,” Kham said to Ilmarė.  He turned back to Alissstar.  “Look, can’t we use a substitute or something?  I spend most of my time trying to keep my blood in me.”

“There isss no other way,” said Alissstar. “Be warned, thisss sssacrifice will be great. You will lossse a part of yourssself permanently.”

Vlad stepped forward. “I’ll…”

Beldin interrupted the Milandisian’s decision by placing his axe in Vlad’s path.  “I’ll do it,” he said.

Vlad began to protest but Beldin silenced him with a shake of his head. 

“Beldin,” said Ilmarė in gentle tones she rarely used, “you’re not right in the head.  This is ridiculous.  You don’t know the consequences of your actions.”

Beldin shook his head again.  “I appreciate your concern.  But I remember a time when I was trusted with the guardianship of mankind.  My betrayal of Illiir’s trust led me from gianthood to this twisted form.”  Beldin strapped his axe onto his back and opened his palms.  “The ghost of Ironfoot showed me just how much humanity is suffering.”  He looked into the eyes of Kham and Ilmarė.  “You both saw what happened to the town of Vestalanium when they were shown the Yellow Sign.”

“Vestalanium?” asked Vlad.  “Never heard of it.”

“That’s because it no longer exists,” said Beldin. “The madness that ensued destroyed the entire town.  I will not let that happen again.”

There was a roaring sound above them. The sound of the surf.

“Uh guys,” said Kham, “we don’t exactly have a lot of time here…”

“Then let usss being.” 

Alissstar performed all of the extensive verbal and awkward somatic portions of the ritual. The Scales of the Serpent were laid on the altar as Beldin donned the Amulet of the Serpent. Alissstar instructed Beldin to take the Fangs of the Serpent and use one on each wrist to draw blood. 

Beldin slit each wrist with the fangs and mixed the dripping red blood into the Venom of the Serpent. He poured the mixture onto the Scales of the Serpent.

 “IT IS DONE!” proclaimed Alissstar.

The building began to shake. Alissstar made a motion with his hands, and the Jade Serpent rose from the center of the altar and floated before Beldin. He grabbed it, his wrists mysteriously healed over with jagged scars in the shape of serpents.

Kham took the Jade Serpent of Yig from Beldin.  “Let’s go!”

“And now, finally, we are at peace,” whispered Alissstar.  He waved a goodbye as Kham led the charge back towards the boat.  

Beldin hesitated, tears in his eyes.  “I have saved a few,” he whispered.  Then he scooped the artifacts off of the altar and followed after them.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 19: Milton’s Folly*

As the first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, the harbor was illuminated, revealing an amazing number of ships and boats of every kind. 

“I don’t think the harbor’s ever been this crowded,” said Kham in disbelief.

Ilmarė pursed her lips.  “Drac’s planning to throw Freeport a party it’ll never forget.”

A dark shadow stretched across the water, growing longer and longer with the rising of the new day’s sun.

Beldin gazed upon the source of the blackness.  “And that’s how Drac plans to kick off the celebrations.”

Milton’s Folly loomed over Freeport Harbor. The scaffolding that encased its walls was gone, and the white marble of the lighthouse gleamed in the sunlight. The waters around it were kept clear by a patrol of four Sea Lord cutters filled with marines.

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

“First, we get back to the Temple of Althares.  I need to deliver a package to them.” He patted his coat pocket.

“And then?” asked Beldin.

“Then,” said Kham, “maybe we go to the top of that lighthouse and tell the King in Yellow that his subjects are revolting.”

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.  “They really are, too.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 20: The Hall of Columns*

“I sure hope this plan works,” said Vlad.

“This is the best time to strike,” whispered Ilmarė.  “There is no moon tonight; we should not have been spotted.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Kham.  “There’s a warrant out for our arrest.  We’re enemies of Freeport now, according to Drac.”  He spat on the ground in disgust.  

The lighthouse was guarded by a roving patrol of four fast-moving ships full of marines, circling the island.  The lookouts that watched from within the lighthouse by day were not on duty at night. They approached in total darkness. 

“Does anyone else find it strange that there are no guards at night?” asked Beldin.

“Whatever Drac’s doing up there, he doesn’t want any witnesses,” said Ilmarė.  “We can use that to our advantage.

“Yes, we can,” said Kham, “but that involves everyone keeping their mouths shut.”  He craned his neck against a set of stone double doors.  Two great iron pull rings were fastened to the center of each door. 

“Those doors will make a lot of noise when you open them,” said Beldin.  Through the darkness he could make out an intricate relief on their surface, depicting the lighthouse shining streaks of light over the harbor.

“That’s why we brought the elf along,” said Kham.  He nodded to her.

Ilmarė whispered one word: “Dîn.”

Even the crashing of the waves on the reef became silent.  Vlad and Beldin battered the door until the wood that barred the doors from the inside splintered apart.  It fell noiselessly to the ground.

Kham made a gesture that the others should wait for him.  Then he slipped in and pressed himself to the wall. 

The second set of doors was not barred.  He peeked around the corner. 

Kham returned and pointed at his eyes with two fingers. Then he lifted four fingers.  He drew Fleshripper.  The others drew their weapons and followed behind him.

To their right, four cultists stood around the foot of a staircase.  They were huddled around a crate, playing cards. Some imperials were scattered on the makeshift table.

Kham stepped out of the cone of silence, only to plunge Fleshripper through the back of one of the cultists.  The cultist adjacent to him rose to retaliate, but a crossbow bolt shivered from his chest and he fell down. The third cultist stumbled backwards with a yelp, but an arrow in his throat cut off any further cries.

The last cultist ran for the stairs, only to fell back down, a throwing axe in his back.

Kham pointed up the steps and waved them on.  He followed up after them.

A few seconds later, he came back and swept the imperials off of the crate.  Then he went back up the steps.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 21: The Water Shrine of Yarris*

“You’re sure this is it?” asked Vlad. He wiped blood off of his sword, a result of another confrontation with cultists.

They faced a dais with a statue of Yarris wielding a trident. To the right of the door was a round, stone basin filled with water. Four square stone pillars spaced ten feet apart flanked the pool.

“Yes,” said Beldin.  “Near as I can tell, there should be two mechanisms that open the door blocking the stairwell.  The first mechanism was the statue of Hurrian’s lance.  We had to pull it down.”  

Kham stood over the basin, shaking his head.  “Oh, Margy.  You stupid, stupid girl.”

Draped over the lip of the basin was the body of a young woman. The shaft of a crossbow bolt protruded from her back. She was dressed in leather armor.

“Looks like your companion was not all that she seemed,” said Ilmarė.  “You should be careful what you say to the impressionable.”  She glared at Kham.  “You nearly got Beldin killed before with your careless words.”

“I didn’t tell her to go here!” said Kham.  “She was so interested in my adventures.  Now I know why—I was her mark.”

Beldin reached up and pulled down on the trident. There was a grinding noise in the direction of the stairwell.

“A fitting end for a liar and a thief,” said Ilmarė.  “This is what your tales of glory brought her to. Perhaps one day you will learn to be responsible for your actions.”

“Let’s go,” said Vlad. The others left.  

Kham turned Margy over in the basin and placed her hands on her breast.  He closed her eyes.  She looked almost peaceful.

“May Althares give you the wisdom you lacked in life,” whispered Kham.  Then rifled through her possessions for something he could use against Drac.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 22: Lair of the Gibbering Mouther*

When Beldin opened the trapdoor, his senses were assaulted by the hideous stench of decaying flesh. The floor was smeared with dried blood, and bones lay scattered all around. Four square stone pillars were spaced twenty feet apart in the center of the chamber. 

“Well, I think this…YAAAH!”

Beldin stumbled backwards at the sight of a thing of pure madness.  It was all eyes and mouths, teeth and pupils.  The thing babbled to itself, whispering, slurping, giggling, laughing, moaning, groaning, sighing, and screeching.  

“What is that?!” shouted Beldin.  He clutched his ears.

“Dîn!” 

All became silent.  One of the mouths convulsed and spewed a spray of vomit at Vlad.  He lifted up his shield just in time to avoid the splash.

Kham scrabbled out of the trapdoor and circled around to one of the pillars.  His comrades watched in disbelief as Kham ignored the imminent danger; without the benefit of sound, he never even saw the gibbering monstrosity.

Ilmarė shook her head and then pointed at the amalgamation of eyes and teeth. Vlad and Beldin advanced on it.

The cone of silence dissipated.  

“Good news guys,” said Kham. “I found some ladder rungs inside this pillar!” He pointed at one of the open pillars.  

Eyeballs and teeth were scattered all over the place. Vlad and Beldin were spattered with gore. Ilmarė glared at him, hands on her hips. 

“So now we can…climb…oh…”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 23: The Tower Stairs*

Opening the trapdoor released a shaft of sickly yellow light that washed over Kham’s face. A five-foot-wide, railed staircase hugged the walls, rising clockwise all the way to the summit of the tower, a hundred feet above their heads. The light emanated from the walls of the tower and the hundreds of ritual candles that lined the railing. 

“Well,” said Beldin, “I guess Tarmon was right.” The Yellow Sign within each of the bricks was throbbing with magical energy, illuminating the whole tower with an eerie light. 

Near the top of the staircase, almost at the summit of the tower, were six people looking over the railing and down at them. One of them was clearly Milton Drac. The other five were ssanu were dressed in robes. 

Drac spoke in a booming voice that echoed off the walls of the chamber, “Well, well, well. I see that you have dispatched my pet. No matter. The ritual is almost complete. Soon the Yellow Sign will return to Freeport and drive all the unfaithful masses to madness!”

Kham struggled to reach for his pistols, but his hands gripped the hilt of Fleshripper instead.  “Damn it, Fleshripper, not now!”

“Your ridiculous attempt to stop us ends now,” said Drac. “Farewell, friends. What a pity that you have come so far only to fail in the end.” With that, he turned to the ssanu next to him on the stairs and said, “I leave them to you, N’tal. They should provide some amusement. Don’t take too long though. I wouldn’t want you to miss the glorious arrival of our master, the Unspeakable One.”

Drac tossed something down on the ground before him and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Dramatic,” said Kham.

N’tal threw off his robe and flew into the air. The other ssanu drew their bows.

“Uh, I don’t remember you saying anything about the snakes being able to fly,” Vlad said Ilmarė.

“I didn’t,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s a sorcerer!” 

“I am indeed, ssslave,” hissed N’tal.  “Now feel the might of a true sssanu: Incendiariesss globusss!”  He pointed and a pea-sized ball of flames flew towards them.  

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.  Vlad knew the spell.  He’d seen it once before, when the insane elorii Neyadis had nearly slaughtered his companions with a fireball.  He had to get in front of it…

He drew Grungronazharr in one motion and skidded into the spot where the fireball would land.  Vlad raised the weapon up before him: Elabac said that Grungronazharr meant “forged in fire” and that if he bonded with the weapon, they would both emerge from the flames stronger than ever.  

Vlad had no idea if it would work.

Fire exploded around him, but the blast arced away from Grungronazharr in a hemisphere that protected him and his companions.  When the fires died out, a circle of soot outlined the edges of the blast.  

“What?!” shouted N’tal.

Kham swigged two potions in quick succession.  “Keep him busy,” he said to Vlad. “I’m going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“Scatter!” Ilmarė dove to the side.  “I’ve seen what a sorcerer can do, don’t let him line you up…”

“Fulgur sssagitta!”

A bolt of electricity arced from N’tal’s finger into Vlad and then Beldin.  They fell to the ground, twitching. 

Ilmarė rolled to her feet and fired an arrow at one of the other ssanu on the steps.  It plunged to its death.

Beldin struggled to his feet.  “That’s it,” he snarled.  “Now I’m really angry.” 

Arrows whistled past Vlad’s shield, but they were slapped out of the air by an invisible force. He stood in front of Beldin.  “Follow my lead!” They charged up the steps to attack the ssanu in hand-to-hand.  

Ilmarė looked around. The lightning bolt had missed Kham.  Where was he?

She looked up overhead.  Hopping from wall to wall like some sort of tree frog, Kham covered the distance between the ground and the flying ssanu.  N’tal was too focused on Vlad and Beldin to notice.

“Glaciesss imber!”

Hailstones rained down on Beldin, Vlad, and the three remaining ssanu.  The two warriors were stalemated, forced to hide beneath their shields as the hailstones pounded down upon them.  One of the ssanu lost his balance and fell to his doom.

There was a blur and something rammed into N’tal hard from the side.  The ssanu sorcerer hissed in surprise, only to find Fleshripper jutting out of his torso.

They spun crazily, bouncing off wall and then another.  With a horrible crunch, Kham, N’tal, and Fleshripper smashed into the floor near Ilmarė.

Ilmarė looked up.  Beldin and Vlad stirred, covered by snow and ice. The ssanu around them were frozen, bloody pulps, pounded to death by their own leader’s spell.

She inspected the crumpled heap of val and ssanu. For a moment she thought they were both dead.  Then Kham slowly rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose.  He yanked Fleshripper out of N’tal’s corpse. 

Kham slowly, painfully, began to climb the steps. “Let’s finish this,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Part 24: The Yellow Sign*

Vlad burst open the door.  They had last reached the summit of Milton’s Folly. 

The ceiling was angled toward the center of the room and ended in a six-sided glass enclosure that stuck four feet above the stone roof. A raised platform supported a slender stone column upon which rested a crystal that shone yellow light through the glass and out into the night. 

Milton Drac, Melkior Maeorgan, and a ssanu stood in front of the platform. The tower shook ominously, and the platform and column began to glow with a bright, yellow light. The stone throbbed with magical power as a beam of light shot through the crystal and out into the night sky. It blinded them for a moment

“As I said,” said Drac, “you are too late. The Yellow Sign is now corrupting the minds of all those fools in the harbor below. Soon they will leave here and spread the glorious madness of the Unspeakable One throughout all of Onara! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“I don’t believe it,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s monologing.” 

They caught a glimpse of what the lighthouse was projecting on the clouds: the Yellow Sign hung in the air over Freeport.

“Now, we can turn our attentions to you,” continued Drac. “Since I have been trying to kill you for many months now, an agonizing death seems more than appropriate. Which do you prefer? Being flayed alive or slowly bleeding to death as carrion pick at your bodies?”

“Is this some sort of quiz?” asked Kham.  “How about D, none of the above.”

“I guess we shall just have to kill you now!” shouted Drac.  “Get them!”

Melkior crossed his arms and drew two wicked-looking knives from their sheaths.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The ssanu lifted a crossbow. “You ssshould have lissstened to me when I offered you that deal, Vlad,” it said.  “I would have granted you a merciful death.”

“Brock?” asked Vlad in disbelief.  A crossbow bolt warped away from Vlad’s magical shield.  “I knew it was a trick!”

“The name isss Gorn,” said ssanu formerly disguised as Captain Brock Wallace. “Remember it well.  It isss the lassst name you will ever hear.”

Beldin charged forward, only to have Melkior block his path.  “Not so fast, stumpy,” he snarled.

“Let’s see how hardy you really are, dwarf,” said Drac, “When your blood is turned to poison!”  He pointed at Beldin.

The Amulet of the Serpent around Beldin’s throat glowed green.  Nothing happened.

“What?” said Drac in disbelief.

“Looks like not all ssanu agree with you,” said Beldin. He blocked one of Melkior’s knife strikes with his shield.

With one bound, Kham cleared the distance to the crystal.  

“I know what you’re trying to do,” snarled Drac.  He pointed a finger. “But it will be difficult if you’re bli—AAGH!”

One of Ilmarė’s arrows shivered from Drac’s shoulder.  She had interrupted the spell.  “Stop that wench!” he shouted.

Beldin faced off against Gorn.  The ssanu swung high with its falchion, but Beldin blocked the blow with his shield and retaliated by slicing Gorn’s arm with his axe.

Vlad shoved Melkior backwards with his shield so he could have room to maneuver.  In close combat, Melkior had the advantage with his daggers.  But with enough distance…

Kham kicked the yellow crystal off of the pedestal.  

“No!” shrieked Drac.  He dove through the air and caught it just before it hit the ground. 

The energy that had been focused through the crystal, without anything to channel it, warped and snaked through the air towards the top of the lighthouse.  A shockwave blasted outward.

Everyone was knocked flat as the glass enclosure exploded.  

Kham struggled to his knees.  The energy pulsed outwards in an invisible wave, making each crawling step an effort.

He reached the pedestal a second before Drac did.  Then with a slow smile, Kham placed the Jade Serpent of Yig on the pedestal.

“Nooooo!” shouted Drac.

The energy from the lighthouse surged through the idol of Yig.  Suddenly, the yellow light transformed into a calming, green glow.  

Another blast of energy exploded outwards from the pedestal, but this time only Drac was affected.  The blast hurled him out of the lighthouse.  Drac withered even as his body flew backwards, disintegrating in the ocean air.

Gorn and Melkior were dead.  There was nothing but silence. Even Freeport was quiet.  Kham limped over to look out at his city.

Vlad walked over beside him.  “Is silence a good thing?” 

Ilmarė bit her lip. “If this is anything like Vestalanium, they won’t be silent for long.”

There was a low roar.  It was the sound of people, thousands of them, shrieking and hollering.  

Beldin fell to his knees.  “We are too late.”

Kham started laughing.  

“Have you gone mad too?” asked Ilmarė.  “The Yellow Sign has destroyed their minds!  We’ll be lucky if we can get out of here alive!”

Kham was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.  Finally, he calmed down enough to speak. 

“You don’t understand.  That’s not Freeport going insane.  That’s Freeport partying!  We just gave them one hell of a show!”

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  “Freeport was crazy enough to begin with.”


----------



## talien

*Madness in Freeport - Conclusion*

The throngs on the ships below and jammed into the streets had no idea how close they came to unending madness.  They didn’t know exactly what they’d seen, but they knew it was one amazing head-trip. 

“Speaking of which,” said Vlad. “We still technically killed the Sea Lord.  Maybe we should go before Freeport wakes up from its hangover.”

“Good point,” said Beldin. The green pulse had finally died down and the energy stopped flowing from the Jade Serpent.  He gently scooped the statue off the pedestal and put it in a cloth bag.

“Squeak?” 

“Did you say something?” Ilmarė asked Kham.

Kham blinked back at her.  “What?”

“I thought I heard you say something.”

“Not me,” said Kham.  “I was just—“

“Squeak?”

Beldin peered at Kham. “That definitely came from you.”

Something wriggled in Kham’s coat. Kham lifted a tiny serpent out of the folds of his pockets. 

“What the…”

“Khaaaam,” said Ilmarė. “What did you mean by ‘precious cargo’ before?”

“I uh,” Kham swallowed hard.  “I found this egg in the snake temple.  I figured I’d make myself some breakfast.”

“Squeak!” squeaked the little snake.

“Then I felt bad about it.  I was going to leave it with Thuron but I forgot.”

“Squeak.”

“The energy from the Jade Serpent must have hatched it,” said Beldin.  

Vlad squinted down at the little creature in Kham’s hands.  “That’s not a snake,” he said.  “It has arms and legs too.  That’s a baby ssanu.”

“It looks like you’re about to learn some personal responsibility after all,” said Ilmarė.  She clapped Kham on the shoulder.  “Congratulations, Kham. You’re a father!”

“Ah, crap.”

“Squeak!”


----------



## talien

*RIP, Gary Gyax*

Out of respect for Gary's passing, the grandfather of all we hold dear on these boards and the man who changed my life for the better, there will be no update Wednesday, March 5.  A virtual moment of silence, if you will. Posting will resume on Thursday, March 6.

I was working on a non-fiction book about the history of gaming and had hoped to interview him, so this is particularly crushing on both a personal and professional level.  My condolences to Gary's friends and family.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 23: Herald of the Yellow King*

This is the second in the Ripples from Carcosa series of modules for Call of Cthulhu, "Herald of the Yellow King," written by Oscar Rios and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best

This adventure was originally created for Call of Cthulhu, so it’s always an interesting exercise in converting it over to a D20 system.  For one, Call of Cthulhu has plenty of combat (at least as much if not more so than Dungeons & Dragons), but doesn’t deal with any details.  So when insane villagers attack, they’re just assumed to attack from nowhere.  When the monster fights the PCs on a bridge, you have no idea how wide the bridge is, etc.  To rectify this, I built the various villages from the ground up with paper miniatures.  This helped tremendously, especially in the first encounter.

What’s so refreshing about Call of Cthulhu adventures is that they’re not afraid of putting characters into dire moral quandaries, often with no means of getting out of it.  There is no “right” choice in many cases. 

I did a lot to beef up this module for a party of 4th through 7th-level characters.  Wolves became winter wolves, villagers became 2nd-level commoners with the maniac template (from D20 Modern), and the Spawnling of Hastur became a Chuul (which nearly ate the entire party).  

Isolated, with almost no healing magic, no means of reequipping themselves, and alone in the wilderness, we learned very quickly that our party isn’t just bad in dungeons…they can barely survive in the wilderness.  With a relentless snowstorm dogging their every step, in a frozen land where losing your horse can be a death sentence, the party suddenly realized why it’s so important to have a warm fire and a roof over your head.  In that regard, I think the adventure was definitely a success.

That, and they’ve lost a taste for beef stew.  BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King: Prologue*

Pallidus settled over the Duchy of Moratavia, as it had all of Milandir.  Harvest was over weeks before, provisions stored and the yuletide was only a fortnight away.  It should have been a time of rest in the castle of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.  Some surely were enjoy a restful morning…unfortunately, not Vlad.

Vlad greeted Ilmarė and Kham at the front gate.  They had rode hard from Naeraanth to the Duke’s castle.  

“I don’t get it,” said Kham.  “Why did the Duke summon you all the hell away from Freeport?  Doesn’t he have someone else to boss around?”

“I’m his bailiff.”  Vlad suppressed a yawn. It had been a long trip. “He only calls me in when he wants something discreetly handled in Milandir.”

“You mean, when he wishes to jerk your strings,” said the elorii with a sneer.  “I find it odd that whenever you are involved in the politics of another country, the Duke calls you back.”

“I noticed it too.” Vlad frowned. “I think he does it just to vex the Coryani nobility.”

“Which is strange,” said Kham, “because he’s from Coryan, isn’t he?”

Vlad nodded. “Duke Adolphos has ruled over the lands for almost a decade, but he still clings to most of his native Coryani ways.  The court speaks Low Coryan, the fashions are Coryan, and even the food served most times is Coryan.”

“Well, we needed an excuse to get out of Freeport anyway,” said Kham.  “I wonder how the big lizard is doing.”

“We can visit Sulfurmarsh right after we finish here,” said Vlad.  “At least Beldin was willing to go on ahead to let Sebastian know we’re coming.”

They were ushered into the great hall of the Duke’s castle.  Ilmarė and Kham stood back while Vlad was allowed to approach the throne.

“Good morning, Vlad,” the middle-aged baron greeted.  

“Good morning, your grace.”  Vlad bowed low. “How may I be of service?”

“It seems there has been another problem with the locals. One of my villages, Derek’s Holding I think, has sent a delegation voicing a complaint from its oldest member. The Moratavia lords who ruled these lands before me had promised this man that a certain tree was not to be cut down until after that man died.  That particular tree was harvested this summer when we were enlarging the feast hall.”

“Stupid human nobility,” said Ilmarė to Kham.  “No respect for Osalian’s creatures.”

“The delegation reminded me that I swore to uphold this proclamation when I took possession of these lands.” The Duke shrugged.  “I have no memory of such a thing, but it seems they have my signature on a document stating just this.” He sipped his goblet for a moment, obviously annoyed.  “The old man is very respected in the village.  In fact, he is the oldest man in all of Milandir.  He has seen more than a hundred winters, if you believe his claims.  Some sort of pagan mystic or poet, claiming the tree—an oak I think—was sacred.” Duke Adolphos rolled his eyes.  “It’s drivel, I know, but he’s demanding and apology and it seems the whole of the village is behind him. That is why I summoned you here.”

“He summoned Vlad all the way from Freeport to plant a tree?” asked Kham.

Adolphos steepled his fingers.  “I am concerned.  There is a persistent rumor about a civil war brewing.  In fact, I believe you discovered evidence of just such a prophecy in the Forsaken Wastes.” Vlad was about to say something, but Adolphos cut him off.  “I’m sure you had good reasons for not sharing that information with me.  But nevertheless, the peasants do so love their superstitions.  And we can’t have Moratavia be the center of a rebellion.  At least, not yet anyway.  I don’t need this old man to be a martyr to their cause. Do you understand me, Vlad?”

Vlad nodded. “I do, your grace.”

“Good.” Adolphos gestured to his steward, who stepped forward and handed Vlad a scroll sealed in wax and stamped with the emblem of val’Tensen.

“I command you to journey to Derek’s Holding and visit with this man.  Cael Grebyard, I believe he is called.  I am told he can no longer walk, sees poorly, and hears very little.  Give him this official apology for cutting down his precious tree before his death.  Inform him that come spring a new oak will be planted in its place.  It’s a simple matter really, as his health is failing; I doubt he will survive the winter.”

Vlad took the scroll from the steward. “Yes, your grace.”

Adolphos rose with a sigh.  “Now I am off for a fitting.  My lady wife wishes me to have new clothes for the holiday celebration.  Have a safe journey and a speedy return.” He leaned forward in his throne.  “And remember, you speak in my name; see that all goes smoothly Vlad.”

And with that, Vlad was dismissed.

“He was as unpleasant as I expected,” said Ilmarė.

Kham nodded in agreement.  “Maybe he’s upset that his son Rurik nearly ended up marrying Elandre val’Assante.”

“But they didn’t get married,” said Vlad.  “The marriage was called off.”

“It’s a long story,” said Ilmarė.

“So we traveled over a week by ship just so you could deliver an apology?” Kham skipped ahead of Vlad as they exited the great hall.  “I mean, we all had to get out of Freeport anyway until the investigation over the death of Drac is over, but still…this is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

Vlad sighed. “Well, right after this we can visit Calactyte, Sebastian and Bijoux in Sulfurmarsh. It’s not too far from here.  I’m glad you both made the trip, but you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be fooled,” said Ilmarė to Kham.  “Like all good masters, the Duke has just smacked his dog on his nose for not barking at the right time.” 

Kham rolled his eyes.  “The only thing I hate more than Coryani nobility is bitter exiled Coryani nobility.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1a: Derek’s Holding*

The trip to Derek’s Holding took about two hours of travel.  Snow began falling steadily and the weather worsened as they got closer to the village. It was a cold and uncomfortable trip, even on horseback.

Derek’s Holding was a collection of about twenty modest dwellings.  The homes had thatch roofs, stone walls, and dirt floors.  Snow-covered fields surrounded the village and a well was at its center.

“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“There’s no smoke coming from any of the houses.  Not a single fire in the village is lit.”

“Oh well, I guess no one’s home,” said Kham.  “Can we leave now?”

“I see someone.” Vlad leaned forward on his horse. He blinked. “Is that…Dril?”

Nauris Drilian, swathed in but a brown cloak with a flintlock rifle strapped across his back, stumped his way through the snow over to their mounts.  “Well, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Vlad. “What are you doing here?”

“Tracking Cael Greybeard.”  Dril looked over his shoulder at the eerily quiet village.  “He lives in this village.”

“We know,” said Ilmarė.  “Vlad’s trying to deliver an apology to him.”

Dril arched an eyebrow.  “I’m after him for a different reason. When that fireworks display went off in Freeport, Cael was on stage.  It was touted as his last performance.  All the performers on stage were facing Milton’s Folly when the lighthouse projected the Yellow Sign on the clouds.  The audience had its back to it.”

“So you’re tracking down some old guy because of his performance?” Kham dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby tree.  “You’re a tough critic.”

Dril shook his head.  Snow fell off of the hood of his cloak.  “All the performers on stage who were witness to the Yellow Sign’s manifestation in the sky slowly went mad.  Some committed suicide.  Others…” he looked sideways and Dril’s voice became a whisper, “I had to take care of personally.  Cael’s the last of them; he slipped my grasp and took a ship out of Freeport before I could stop him.”

Vlad smacked one fist into an open palm. “I knew that Yig symbol wouldn’t fix everything!”

“Where are you going, Kham?” asked Ilmarė. Kham had walked ahem of them into the village. 

“I see an open hut in the middle of the village.  You three can argue about Yig and the Other Guy all day, I’m going to try to find shelter before this snowstorm gets worse.” 

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Dril said to Kham’s back, but he was out of earshot.

“What’s in there?” asked Vlad.

Kham’s curse brought them running.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1b: Derek’s Holding*

Inside the house was a scene of horror.  The bodies of six or more villages lay torn and savaged upon the floor.  Chairs and tables were overturned.  Snow had blown into the house.  

“You couldn’t have warned me about this before I got in here?” asked Kham in disgust.

“I tried.” Dril stood up from where he was inspecting the tracks. “They finally broke down the door.”

“They?” asked Vlad.

“Wolves.”  Dril pointed at the bodies.  They had all been fed upon, some to the bone in places.  The entire room carried the stench of a wolf den.

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.  “So the wolves killed them all.”

“No,” said Dril. “I’ve broken into a few of the other homes.  There are scratches and gnaw marks on some of the doors, but they didn’t get in.  You’re right about one thing though: they’re all dead.”

“Dead of what?” asked Vlad.

“I’m not sure,” said Dril.  He turned to look out the doorway.  The snow fell heavier than before.  “They were all frozen solid.  Every corpse had a swollen tongue, sunken eyes, and cracked and broken skin inside their mouths. It’s almost as if they died of thirst.”

“How is that possible?” asked Vlad.  “We passed a well coming in.”

Dril shook his head.  “That well has been filled in.  There was something else too…not a single container was in anyone’s home.  No cups, no pots, no water skins, nothing.”

“So we’ve got a case of wolves and thieves.  That’s not that uncommon,” said Kham, “especially in a little armpit of a village like this.”

“Oh, I found the containers.  They were buried in a mound out in one of the fields.”

“This doesn’t make any sense at all,” said Vlad.  “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Dril. “All I do know is that Cael’s not here. I found his dwelling.  Someone painted the Yellow Sign on one of the walls.”

“Well then, I think we have our answer as to what happened,” said Kham. “Can we go home now?”

Vlad gulped.  “I will have to make a report to Duke Adolphos.”

There was a loud, mournful howl in the distance. Everyone stopped speaking to listen.

The first howl was answered by a second, much closer.  It sounded like it was right behind the hut.

“We’ve got bigger problems,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1c: Derek’s Holding*

Ilmarė and Vlad ran outside into the snow, weapons at the ready.  The snow whipped up, making it practically impossible to see anything but white and gray.  

“Vlad!” shouted Ilmarė over the howl of the wind.  “We have to get inside!  Staying out here is suicide!”

“You don’t understand.” Vlad shielded his eyes from the snow.  “These were Milandisians.  I owe it to them.”

“Stupid human,” muttered Ilmarė.  She turned to go back inside…

And came face to face with a pair of crystal blue eyes and a white snout.  The snow-white wolf was five feet tall at the shoulder. 

The wolf’s lips curled backwards to reveal teeth dripping with gore.  Ilmarė slowly reached for her elven thinblade.

Then it was on her, barking and snarling.  The weight of the thing slammed into her, hard.  It was easily the size of a horse, and for a moment Ilmarė blacked out as the wind was knocked out of her.

Fetid, hot breath scalded her neck.  There was the sharp retort of two pistols firing.  When Ilmarė opened her eyes, it was gone.

Ilmarė struggled to her feet.  She thought she had seen three large white shapes darting through the snow.  But the wolves had disappeared.

She could barely make out Vlad in the blowing snow. “I told you this was a bad idea,” she said to him. 

Vlad didn’t respond.

Ilmarė took a closer look.  Vlad was encased in ice, sword raised high to strike an unseen foe. 

“What’s going on?” shouted Dril.  “Was it the wolves?”

Ilmarė pointed at Vlad’s frozen form.  “Worse,” she said.  “Winter wolves.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1d: Derek’s Holding*

“What the hell happened to Vlad?” Dril helped lug Vlad’s flash-frozen body into the hut.

“Winter wolves.”  Ilmarė stood at the center of the hut facing the doorway, her bow drawn.  “They can breathe frost. I think there were three of them.”

“But they had the advantage,” said Dril.  He unshouldered his rifle.  “Why did they run away?”

Kham, leaning on the doorframe, reloaded one of his pistols.  “They’re reloading.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.”  Kham reloaded another of his pistols. “They could have killed one or two of us just now, but we would have killed a few of them as well. The wolves are eating snow so they can spew their breath at us again.  They’ll keep it up until we make a mistake.”  He nodded towards the unforgiving snowstorm outside.  “They can afford to be patient.”

“Well we can’t.”  Dril tipped a healing potion up to Vlad’s frozen lips.  “Vlad’s in bad shape.  In this snow, we can’t even see them until they’re right on top of us.”

“And it reeks of wolf in here.” Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.

“We’re in their den,” said Kham.  “To the wolves, we’re the intruders.”

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  “So we stay in here until we starve to death like these pathetic fools?”  She kicked one of the torn limbs.

Kham took off his lenses.  For a moment his pupiless eyes sharply contrasted with his silhouette, framed against the white snow beyond the hut.  “I’m not going to die in here.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Dril.

Kham holstered both of his pistols and patted himself down. “I think Quintus needs a new wolf pelt.”  Then he walked out into the snow.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1e: Derek’s Holding*

Kham closed the door behind him.  The wind howled, whipping the snow into a blinding wall of whiteness.  He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him.

Even though the wolves were easily the size of horses, they were all white.  The only part of them that contrasted at all was their crystal blue eyes, and even that was hard to make out until it was too late. 

Kham was looking for something else this time.

A nearby howl told him they were coming. They weren’t trying to hide anymore.  The wolves knew they had their prey trapped.

Kham crouched and eased back his coat so that he could have easy access to his pistols. When Kham had faced off against Zainat Zameri, he wasn’t ready.  Kham found it ironic that it was literal wolves he was dueling; he had much more experience with the kind that wore human clothing. 

There was another howl, off to his right.  Kham tried to concentrate on his breathing.  He had a split second to react once he saw the bloodstain from where he tagged the alpha wolf the first time.  One second too late and he would end up like Vlad…only this time they would shatter him like a fragile sculpture and eat the bloody chunks.

Kham had been a statue before.  It wasn’t so bad. 

He spotted a flash of red through the blinding snow.  The damned thing was actually zig-zagging, completely unhindered by the knee-deep snowdrifts. They were a lot smarter than he thought.

Another wolf howled behind him.  Kham would not be deterred.  He knew enough about wolves to understand that his standoff against the alpha wolf was all he had to worry about.  

Snow churned up in short bursts as the alpha wolf closed the distance at maximum speed.  

Kham kept his hands steady, fingers twitching over the holsters.  Steady…

The alpha wolf stopped short, plowing up a furrow of snow.  Then it started padding slowly, confidently towards him.

Steady…

The wind was freezing Kham’s skin where it was exposed.  Some of it trickled down his back and under his coat.  

Kham suppressed a chill.  The alpha wolf was challenging him.  

He couldn’t look away. It came closer.

Steady…

The alpha wolf was mere feet away.  Its blue eyes gleamed with a feral intelligence.  The beast was gauging him, waiting to see what he would do next.  It knew the things he had at his hips could hurt it, as evidenced by the bright red blood that left a staccato pattern in the snow.

The crack of gunfire echoed behind him.  Something yelped, nearly in Kham’s ear.

Then everything happened at once. The alpha wolf’s features twisted into a snarl as it opened its mouth to unleash a hoary blast.  Kham’s gloved hands snatched at his pistols as lightly as if they were extension of his arms.  In one smooth motion, he lifted them and fired down the throat of the alpha wolf.

The explosion practically blew it apart.  It reared up and backwards, spraying blood and ice.  Then its twitching body collapsed into the snow.  A grim halo of red spread out from around the corpse.

Kham looked over his shoulder.  Another wolf lay dead, a bullet hole through the side of its skull.

“Nice shot,” said Kham to Dril through the latticed window.  

Dril pulled his rifle back from the opening.  “They were bluffing you.  While the alpha wolf kept you busy, another wolf was creeping up behind you.  I thought I should even the odds.”

Kham reholstered his pistols, grateful that they had fired when he needed them most.

Ilmarė opened the door. “That was foolish. Why would you do such a stupid thing?”

Kham patted Fleshripper.  “To prove I still could,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2a: The Village of Dunover*

When they returned to Duke Adolphos’ castle, the herald was directing the hanging of certain banners around the hall.  Each banner was adorned with a different set of colors, depictions and patterns, and each one represented a different noble person.  

“Nice banners,” said Kham.

“The noble families invited to the winter solstice celebration will know where to sit by gathering at the tables closest to the banner of their lord,” explained Vlad.

“No,” called out Duke Adolphos.  “Move Lord Andreas further up towards high table; his family always brings that wonderful jester to entertain.”

Just then, the duke noticed Vlad waiting.  He nodded a greeting and moved to a side table.  Vlad apologetically explained what they had witnessed.

“I am rather disturbed by your news,” said Adolphos, “and even more so because I do not know its cause.  I command you to travel to Dunover and Brighton, the next two villages closest to the castle.  Learn what they might know of this madness or plague.” He turned away, then hesitated and turned back.  “This time, take some supplies and warm clothing.  The quartermaster will send you with two bottles of wine to present to the heads of the villages.  Yule gifts might loosen their tongues.”

“And what of Derek’s Holding, your grace?” asked Vlad.

“Speak not of what you witnessed,” Adolphos said with a frown.  “It will be a small matter to replace the peasants once spring comes, but a more difficult one if the lands get a reputation for being cursed.”  He leaned closer to Vlad.  “Or rebellion.” He straightened up and spoke louder for the benefit of those eavesdropping.  “Leave at once and travel with all haste.  I’ve instructed the stable master to issue you two mounts, a sleigh, and a horse to pull it as well.  Come directly to me upon your return.”  He leaned forward again.  “Report to none but me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your grace,” said Vlad.

“Excellent.  I expect you back in time for the Yule celebration in five days.  Some of my guests might inquire as to where my Bailiff is, and I don’t wish to explain your absence.”

He nodded to Vlad with a serious look.  Then he returned to his herald and the preparations for the Yule celebration. 

Once Vlad was out of sight of the Duke, his shoulders sagged.

“Amazing,” said Kham.  “He’s like a Milandisian version of Quintus.”

“Don’t chide him too much.” Ilmarė stared pointedly at Fleshripper hanging from Kham’s hip.  “We all have our burdens to bear.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2b: The Village of Dunover*

As they approached the village, it was clear that all was not well long before they arrived.  

A murder or ravens circled overhead in the distance.  Strange shapes littered the fields and roadside nearer the village.  The ravens were gathered around some of the shapes, working hard to remove strips of flesh.

“Don’t tell me…” said Kham.

Ilmarė blanched. “More dead villagers.”

The villagers all lay dead, each as naked as the day they were born.  The bodies were filthy, with mouths, hands, and feet caked with dirt.  

Dril hopped down off of his horse.  “Strange.”

“Could this get any stranger?” asked Kham.

“It’s their stomachs,” said Dril.  “They’re distended.  You see that sometimes in corpses that have been dead for a while.  The vapors in the stomach expand—“

“We get the idea,” said Ilmarė.  

Dril coughed.  “Anyway, these bodies are stiff as nails.  Decay hasn’t set in.  So something else caused this.”  He leaned forward to inspect the body of a woman.  “It looks almost as if they were eating…grass.”

Dril remounted and joined the slow procession into the eerily silent village.  All throughout, there were frozen, naked corpses of men, women and children.  Many of the houses were in total disarray, with filth and waste covering the floor in places.  There were no livestock to be found.

They stopped at the entrance to a barn. Vlad peered inside.

“Well,” said Vlad. “I think we can confidently state that the Yellow Sign did this.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Dril.

Vlad clucked his horse back to let Dril look inside.

It looked as if there had been a mass gathering in the farmhouse.  Bales of hay were arranged like benches and a platform was created from some planks.  A frozen mug of ale sat half-drunk on the planks of the crude stage.  Piles of clothing were everywhere.

But what transfixed their collective gaze was the Yellow Sign, painted on a cloak and hung behind the stage like a banner.

“Cael strikes again,” said Kham, quickly looking away.  “He must have put on quite a show.”

“We’re too late,” said Vlad.  “Again.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Ilmarė.  “Look.”

In the entire village of over a dozen homes and farms, only one house had a line of smoke coming from it.  Without a word, they spurred their mounts towards the lone home.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2c: The Village of Dunover*

“Hello?” shouted Vlad.

The house appeared shut and intact, but Vlad received no response.

As they approached the house, they were assaulted by a cacophony of animal-like screeches and howls.  A group of naked, filthy villagers rushed from around the corner of the building.  They growled and slavered, charging forward with lust and murder in their eyes. 

“Try not to hurt them!” shouted Vlad.  “They’re Milandisians!”

Ilmarė sighed.  “Fine.” She pointed at a cluster of the crazed villagers. “Îdh!”

Four of them stumbled in mid-step and collapsed into the snow, unconscious.

Dril pointed at Kham. “You may want to tell him that.”

Kham had dismounted and was swinging Fleshripper overhead, shouting like a madman.  It was difficult to discern who was crazier: the villagers or the val.

“He’s gone mad again!” shouted Vlad.  “Ilmarė, do something!”

Ilmarė shook her head.  “I can’t stop him.”  A villager was nearly sawed in half by Kham’s blow.  “I can just get some of these pathetic fools out of his way.”  She pointed at the villagers again.  “Oltha!”

Four more of the villagers froze, oblivious to Kham’s butchering behind them.  They stopped gibbering and turned to look at the elorii.

“Get inside that hut,” said Ilmarė.  “And lock the door.  It’s not safe out here.”

The four villagers turned and walked into one of the open homes.  Then the door slammed shut behind them.

Kham ran Fleshripper through an old woman.  Then he kicked her corpse off of the blade.

“Well, at least they’ll be safe inside,” said Vlad.

They could hear a mournful howl inside the hut.  Only the shadows of figures locked in struggle could be made out through the block glass window.  

As Ilmarė’s magic wore off, the villagers turned on each other. Blood splashed on the window. A few more shrieks and screams later, and the hut was silent once more.

“I’m not so sure that was the better choice,” said Dril.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2d: The Village of Dunover*

“Well, there’s definitely someone inside.”  Dril’s ear was pressed against the front door. “I can hear movement in there.”

“Hello?” shouted Kham, pounding on the door.  Blood drenched his boots and mixed with the snow wherever he stepped.

“Maybe you’re not the best person to answer the door,” said Vlad.  “Let me try.” He knocked on the door again.  “I am Vlad Martell, Bailiff of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.  I have been sent to ensure your safety.  Please let us in, you will not be harmed.”

“Quintus would be proud,” said Kham with a smirk.  He wiped Fleshripper off in the snow.

“You have a better idea?” asked Dril.

“Yeah.”  Kham sheathed Fleshripper.  He strode over to the door and drew a dagger.

“Planning to open the door with that little blade?” asked Ilmarė.

“Big things come in small packages,” said Kham.  He bumped the hilt of the dagger against the door and lock picks popped out of it.  A few twists and a click later, and the door swung open.

“Hello?” asked Vlad.  “Is anyone here?”

An old woman with a bowl of steaming hot porridge in her hands worked busily in her simple dwelling. She showed no signs of noticing them.

“Hello? Ma’am?”  Vlad put one hand on her shoulder.

The woman shrieked and jumped backwards, dropping the porridge.  

“Oh my!” she said, looking around at them all.  “Well, aren’t you a strange bunch.  Have you dealt with all the madmen?”

“Sorry, didn’t meant to startle you,” said Vlad.  “Yes, we…” he looked askance at Kham, who was staring hungrily at the porridge, “…took care of them.”

“Eh?” said the old woman.

“I said,” said Vlad.  “You’re safe now.”

“What?” 

“I SAID,” shouted Vlad, “YOU’RE SAFE NOW!”

“Oh,” said the old woman, blinking back at the force of Vlad’s shout.  “Well, why didn’t you say so?  Come on in and have some porridge.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Now we know why she’s not crazy like the rest of them.”

“Why is that?” asked Dril.

“Because she couldn’t hear Cael’s tale of the King in Yellow.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Am I the only one getting flashbacks to the blind hermit scene in "Young Frankenstein"?


----------



## talien

The comedy (and the madness) is just beginning.

Who says I can't milk a joke for several installments?!


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2e: The Village of Dunover*

Old Mother Esther continued to putter around the kitchen while she talked, setting a place setting for each of them around the crowded table.  

“The bard came a few days ago,” she said.  “He was a handsome man, dressed in the colorful cloak and tunic of the bards from back when I was just a little girl.  My grandson told me he wanted to tell stories to us.”

“I bet he did,” said Kham.

“Everyone was so thrilled, we gathered together in the big barn, making it up like a theatre.  Everyone was there.  He told maybe five or six stories, but I couldn’t tell you what they were.  My hearing isn’t what it once was.”  

“You don’t say,” grumbled Vlad.

“My grandson said he would tell me the stories later, after we got home.  But it was wonderful, sitting there, with everyone, watching a real bard working his magic.  I hadn’t seen such a thing since I was little, when Cael Greybeard performed at my sister’s wedding.”

“Wait,” said Dril.  “I thought the bard who drove everyone mad WAS Cael Greybeard?”

“Eh?” Esther set a plate down in front of Kham, who began slurping it up hungrily with a spoon. 

“I said,” Dril took a deep breath, “YOU’RE SURE THE BARD YOU SAW WASN’T CAEL GREYBEARD?”

“Oh no, certainly not,” Esther put a plate before Dril. “This man couldn’t have seen more than twenty winters.  Cael Greybeard was an old man when I was a girl.  He seemed as skilled as Cael, I’ll give him that. Certainly, he never carried a banner around before.”

“What kind of banner…” asked Ilmarė.  When she realized Esther didn’t hear her, she just shook her head.  “Never mind.” 

Esther smiled at Ilmarė and put a bowl of porridge in front of her.  “Aren’t you a beauty?” she said with a gap-toothed smile.  “After the bard hung that banner, everything went wrong.  There was this rune on it that made people feel funny.  Some started to cry; it made me fell dizzy, like when I get up too fast.”

“The Yellow Sign.” Dril ate a spoonful of porridge.  It was quite good.

“The bard started telling another story.  My grandson told me what it was called before the bard got too far into it.”

“The King in Yellow,” said Vlad and Esther at the same time.  Esther didn’t hear him.  She plopped a plate down in front of Vlad.

“Everyone was staring at the bard, listening to the story.  I wish I knew what it was about, because they hung on every word.  When it was over, people started jumping around, stripping off their clothing, and running around like animals!” She shook her head.  “Some even started rutting in the dirt, right there in front of everyone!”

“Stupid filthy humans,” said Ilmarė in disgust.  She hadn’t touched her porridge.

“We’re not all like that,” said Vlad.

Kham lifted the bowl up to his lips.  “Speak for yourself.”  He poured the last of the porridge down his throat.

“I started to pull my grandson away,” said Esther, ”but he tried to bite me.  He was as mad as the others.  I ran home, but not before I saw the bard walking away.  I called out to him for help, but he didn’t even turn to look at me.  I think he was crying.”

Vlad finished his porridge.  “We’ve got to get her back to the castle.  She’ll never survive out here by herself.”

There was a mournful wolf howl in the distance.

“Let’s go,” said Dril.  “Before a different kind of animal shows up.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2f: The Village of Dunover*

As the mounts and sleigh began traveling the road away from Dunover, something strange flashed in the corner of Kham’s eye.

A large building of black stone, maybe three stories high, with an adjacent tower even taller, sat at the bottom of a cobblestone path off the main road. It was impossible to have missed such a thing on the way into the village.  The structure was like none he had ever seen.

Kham called out to Dril. “Do you see that?” 

A gust of winter wind blew, filling the air with a cloud of icy snow.

“What?” When Dril looked, all the end of the cobblestone path was an empty snow-covered field, with the silent forest beyond.  He turned back to Kham. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Damn it, I saw something!” said Kham.  “And it’s not because of Fleshripper either!”

“We’re all a little edgy,” said Vlad.  “Once we get Mother Esther to the castle we can visit Brighton.”

“If Cael is still out there,” said Ilmarė, “we’ll need to move fast.”

“Why are you so interested in the plight of humans anyway?” asked Kham. “Aren’t we all supposed to die in a war or something?”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  “Don’t misunderstand.  I believe this Unspeakable One has a name.  My people have known it for centuries.”

“Really,” said Kham, intrigued.  “Care to share?”

“You would not know He Who Waits in Darkness,” said Ilmarė with a sneer, “because its name was stricken from all human records.  The elorii name for it is Umor.  It was Umor who brought the first humans to our shores. It was Umor who stole away our goddess Belisarda to the dark moon Yhtill.  And it was Umor who betrayed the elorii gods to your foul deities.”

“Interesting,” said Dril.  “I’ve studied The Illuminated Perfection.  There’s a very different take on what happened between our gods and yours.”

Ilmarė smirked.  “Of course there is.”

“According to the third scroll,” said Kham, “Illiir was forced to sacrifice the elorii deities so that His pantheon would have enough power to defeat Umor, just as Umor had absorbed Belisarda’s life force to defeat the human pantheon.”

“Propaganda and lies,” spat Ilmarė.  “Say what you wish to soothe your conscience—your deities are murderers.”  She nodded towards Kham. “And a murderer’s blood runs in your veins.”

Esther patted Ilmarė’s hand, completely oblivious to the conversation.  “That’s nice, dear.  You shouldn’t worry yourself too much about all this, I’m sure it will work out in the end.”

“For the sake of both humans and elorii,” said Vlad, “I hope so.”

“You mentioned Yhtill,” said Kham.  “I think I’ve seen it. Or I should say, I’ve seen a city from the dark moon.”

“Carcosa,” said Ilmarė and Kham at the same time.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3a: The Village of Brighton*

Vlad was questioned at length about what had happened in Dunover and, predictably, Duke Adolphos was not pleased.  He ordered them to rest the remainder of the day, but demanded they visit Brighton as soon as possible.  The house guard was put on alert and armed men began patrolling the castle grounds.

“Well, at least Mother Esther will be all right,” said Vlad from his mount. “It turns out she’s actually a great aunt of a member of the kitchen staff.”

“How wonderful for her,” said Ilmarė. Snow had begun to fall steadily.  “Osalian is displeased.  A snowstorm is brewing.”

At long last, they saw the village of Brighton through the falling snow.  Smoke rose from most of the chimneys and people were moving about chopping wood, running errands, and tending to chores.  While smaller than Derek’s Holding and Dunover, Brighton boasted larger and better-made furnishings.  

Kham sniffed the air.  “I smell fresh-baked bread,” he said.

“Do you ever think of anything besides your stomach?” asked Ilmarė.

“Sometimes a little lower,” said Kham. 

The steady rhythm of a blacksmith’s hammer punctuated the play of children in the snow.

“It’s an improvement,” said Vlad.  “After the horrors we experienced in the last two villages, it’s good to come to a place of life and normalcy.”

Peasants came out to greet and welcome them.  The mounts and sleigh were taken into the village’s largest barn and the animals were brushed and fed. 

Vlad was ushered into the reeve’s home. 

“Welcome!” said a large, loud man.  “I am Bannen, Reeve of Brighton. How can I help you?”

Vlad spoke in as imperious a voice as he could muster. “I am Vlad Martell, Bailiff of Archduke Adolphos val’Tensen.” He indicated his companions with a nod of his head. “These are my sergeants.”

Bannen smiled.  “I am much pleased by your presence, but I can assure you that all is in order in Brighton, as it has been for the past several months.”

“Have you seen anything strange?” asked Dril.  “A storyteller perhaps?”

“None tell stories here,” said Bannen, “except to each other over a warm fire.”  He grinned.  A large fireplace crackled behind them.  “There was a boy who saw a strange man, however.”  He ordered another villager to fetch the boy.

A dirty boy, not more than twelve winters, was dragged in from the outside.  Vlad caught a glimpse of the snow, which was so piled up in front of the door that it was becoming difficult to open.

“Tell them what you saw,” said Bannen.

“I was gathering firewood when I saw a strange man,” said the boy.  “He was lurking around in the woods near some old hunter’s lodge.”

“How was he strange?” asked Ilmarė.

“He wasn’t from around here,” said the boy.  “And he wore a colorful cloak.”

“I’d like to see this lodge,” said Dril.

“Of course, of course.”  Bannen waved the boy off.  “But night is fast approaching and the storm is getting worse by the minute.  It’ll have to wait until morning. You must stay the night.”

“I don’t think—“ said Vlad.

“That’d be great,” interrupted Kham.  “Got something to drink around here?”

“I like your sergeant already!” The reeve patted Kham on the back.  “We recently slaughtered an ox in town in preparation for our holiday feast.  We have two rooms available with a roaring fire in each. Please, make yourselves at home.”

“I don’t like this,” said Dril.  “Something’s wrong.”

“I don’t see why,” said Vlad. “This is what village life should be like.”

“Whatever,” said Ilmarė.  “All I know is that the rest of you can sleep in a separate room.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3b: The Village of Brighton*

Much preparation was made in the large, warm hall.  Tables were set up around a huge open fire in the center of the room.  From the adjacent kitchen came the delicious smells of stews and roasting meat.  Two kegs were tapped as they entered.

Kham led the way and sat down.  Villagers showed Dril, Vlad and Ilmarė to their places at high table, where several bottles of wine sat besides loaves of fresh-baked bread, bowls of salt, and platters of cheese and nuts.  About thirty villagers were gathered to celebrate the coming holiday.

The reeve called for silence.  He held up a mug.  “A toast!  To Duke Adolphos and his royal emissaries!  We welcome you and wish you health!”  A friendly cheer raised from the gathered peasants and the feast began.

A huge fire filled the center of the room, with tables set around it.  

“I’ve got to tell you,” Kham tore off a piece from a loaf of bread and popped it in his mouth. “I could get used to this life.”  He washed it down wine. 

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose. “You eat far too much meat.”  She picked at the cheese platter as ox stew was served. “They serve it with everything.”

“You’re in my country now,” said Vlad with a smile.  He took a generous helping of stew.  The gibbets of meat steamed in his wooden bowl.  “It’d be only polite to eat something.”

Sausage with bread was placed on the table.  Dri speared a sausage with his knife.  They weren’t supplied at the table; in Milandir, one was expected to bring his own knife to dinner. “Where are the plates?”

Vlad cut a trencher in half that was set between them.  “That’s your plate,” said Vlad.  “The bread absorbs the juices.  You can eat it when you’re done.”

The final course was a serving of roast beef.  Vlad carved the meat and offered it to Ilmarė.  She passed it on to Dril, who sat next to her.  

Dril looked at the meat curiously.  “Actually,” said Vlad, “Ilmarė should cut the meat and serve it to Dril.”

“I serve no one,” said the elorii with a sneer.

“It’s okay,” said Dril.  “I’ll serve myself.  And if I’m following Milandisian custom, I cut the meat for Kham, right?”

“That’s right,” said Kham with a twinkle in his eye.  “Serve your val master.”

“Very funny.”  Dril slapped a hunk of meat on Kham’s trencher.  

A keg of ale was tapped, along with one of mead and several bottles of wine.  The villagers feasted, drank, and had a merry time.  Kham took up the slack on behalf of Ilmarė to consume enough food and drink for two people.

After the meal, a few villagers took up instruments.  Music filled the air.

A pretty, plump village lass curtseyed before Vlad.  “Will my lord join us for a dance?”

“Oh shure!” said Kham.  He stumbled to his feet.  “C’mon Vlad, it will be jusht like Shavona.  Only without all the kisshing.”

Vlad coughed and rose to his feet.  They joined in a circle, holding hands with ladies to either side of them and executing exact steps, as well as Vlad could remember them.  Kham didn’t know the steps, but he compensated by being very, very drunk. The dances were done with much handholding, flirting eyes, and smiles until late evening.  

“Not the dancing type are you?” asked Dril.

“Not in this filthy place.” Ilmarė sipped a mug of mead.  “I find it curious, though, that they never open that door.”

Dril looked over to see a door at the far end of the hall.  “I hadn’t noticed. You suspect foul play?”

“With humans,” said Ilmarė, “I’ve learned to always expect foul play.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3c: The Village of Brighton*

Ilmarė had no need for sleep.  Elorii meditated for hours, but they didn’t sleep or even dream. She had on occasion had nightmarishly vivid visions, but those were the exception and her meditation had been uninterrupted of late only by distractions of a more mundane nature.  She sometimes envied humans of their blissful rest; the squeaking of rats or the caterwauling of squabbling cats disturbed her rest.  But that night, she was glad for Osalian’s gift.

Ilmarė stepped out into the hallway.  Something that sounded suspiciously like a man vomiting assaulted her ears.  She knew that sound: Kham.

She padded down the steps, her thinblade at the ready.  Whatever was behind that door, Ilmarė planned to find out.  

The hall was quiet.  Only the crackling of the fire greeted her. Fortunately, it was a full moon out, so moonlight illuminated the hall. 

It was almost too bright. Ilmarė peered out a window to look at the sky.  

Two moons were visible in the night sky.  They were completely alien, neither the size nor color of the moon she was familiar with.  Clouds rolled in, and then snowfall blocked her view of it.  

The elorii made her way along one wall and up to the door.  She tried the handle.  It was locked.

Ilmarė drew a large pin from her hair.  Her silver and purple locks tumbled down around her.  She brushed the hair out of her face and then twisted the pin in the lock.  A moment later, the door creaked open.

As the door swung open, Ilmarė beheld a sickening sight.  It was clear that the home had undergone a drastic change recently.  All the furniture was removed. The room was freezing cold; ice and snow was packed all around the floor, much of it bloodstained.  In one corner of the large room stood a worktable, behind which stood a rack of mallets, hooks, knives, cleavers, and saws.  In an opposite corner were several barrels that reeked of brine.

Ilmarė swallowed hard.  She inspected one of the barrels.  After a moment, she tried to pry open the lid with her thinblade.

It was stuck.  She wrenched harder.  Just a little more…

Something wet dripped on her shoulder.

Ilmarė looked up.

The ceiling was a forest of butchered corpses.  About thirty naked bodies hung face down from hooks fastened to the rafters.  They were all eviscerated, with the internal organs completely removed.  The tops of the skulls were sawed open, showing an empty converse bowl where a brain once sat.  The meatier parts were missing from a half-dozen corpses.  

“Stupid human cooking.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3d: The Village of Brighton*

Kham was emptying the contents of his shoes into a hole on the second floor.  He had long ago voided whatever was in his stomach.  Whenever he was convinced he had nothing left, nausea overtook him again.

Kham’s head went back down into the hole.  It didn’t smell all that great either.

Just as he leaned down again, he heard something thunk above him.  When he looked up, a meat cleaver jutted out just above his head.

The plump lass who had asked him to dance hours before yanked it out of the wood.  

“Nrrrraaaah!” she shouted.  Her eyes were crazed, mere pinpoint pupils in a sea of white. She kicked the door closed behind her.

“Look, I know I’m not a great dancer but—” Kham stumbled backwards as she clumsily swung at him again.  

Fleshripper was propped in its sheath in the other side of the cramped privy.

Kham lifted one arm to fend the woman’s attack, but she nicked him with the cleaver.  Blood dripped everywhere.

The lass took a moment to lick the blood off her cleaver.

“Althares’ ass!” Kham dove for Fleshripper.  

The woman charged at him just as he unsheathed the blade.  She fell on it, skewering herself on Fleshripper’s jagged edges.  

For once, Kham was grateful that Fleshripper was so wickedly forged.  The woman’s ribcage caught on a particularly vicious hook.  Kham rolled aside as she lunged forward again, completely impaling herself.

Kham yanked the blade off the woman and shoved her down the privy hole.  

Someone knocked tentatively on the door. 

“Occupied!” shouted Kham.

“You okay Kham?” came Vlad’s voice on the other side of the door. “The villagers turned on us.  We killed a few of them.”

“Yeah,” said Kham.  “I’m just great.”

“In that case you might want to know about your dinner,” said Ilmarė.

“What about it?”

“All that meat you ate was actually human flesh.”

Kham decided to use the services of the privy once more.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3e: The Village of Brighton*

Dril came in from the cold.  

“Well, they got to the horses. Looks like they poisoned them.”

Vlad punched the table.  “Damn it!”

“How long will it take to walk back?” asked Kham, dreading the answer.

“If we leave now, we should be able to get to the castle some time after nightfall,” said Vlad.  “But that’s just an estimate, I’ve never walked it before.”

“We’ve got to get to Duke Adolphos before Cael does,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s probably on his way right now.”

“Let’s gather up all the supplies we can find,” said Vlad.  It was left unspoken that they wouldn’t be taking any food.  “We’d better get moving.”

“There’s more bad news,” said Dril. 

“More bad news?” asked Kham.

A howl spoke for Dril.

“The wolves are back.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 4a: Returning to the Castle*

The snowfall had become blinding.  White was everywhere.  The unforgiving wind whistled and shrieked around them. Whenever they felt like resting, the wolves caught up to them, circling and howling.  It made for a great incentive to keep moving.

“Aren’t you cold?” Dril shouted at Ilmarė. The elorii traveled with only a thin, hooded cloak to protect her from the elements.

“I am a child of Osalian,” said Ilmarė.  “I have nothing to fear from him.”

“Look!” shouted Kham.  “Everyone look this time, I want to be sure I’m not going crazy!”

He ran over to a life-sized, bronze statue of a beautiful woman on the side of the road.  She had a scepter in one hand and a rose in the other.  The statue stood atop a six-foot tall platform of carved onyx.  

“We came this way before,” said Vlad.  “I never saw this.”

“Me neither,” said Dril.

“Can you read what it says?” Kham asked Ilmarė. There was something written on the base of the statue.

She shook her head. “The inscriptions are illegible.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “Well all I know is that it wasn’t here before.  Something strange is going on.”

“You mean like that?” Dril pointed at something dark that loomed out of the endless white.

A great arch, two stories high, straddled the road.  It was made of stark black stone.  A long banner hung below the top of the arch, snapping in the wind.  

“That’s Duke Adolphos’ emblem,” said Vlad.  “But I know we would have seen that on the way in.”

The banner snapped again, and this time it showed the Yellow Sign instead.

“It’s happening,” said Ilmarė.

“What’s happening?” asked Dril.

“Carcosa is merging with Moratavia,” she said.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 4b: Returning to the Castle*

They arrived to see that the chaos plaguing the duchy had come to the castle as well.  While many of the castle’s features were the same, some were altered, while others were gone completely.  The castle appeared larger, wither several towers and wings added since the last time they were there. All of the stonework was black, and a large black banner emblazoned with the Yellow Sign hung above the main entrance.  

“Well, that can’t be good,” said Kham.

The drawbridge, which once spanned a twelve-foot moat, had become a marble bridge crossing dark, mist-shrouded waters.  Snow swirled about the long bridge spanning the distance between the castle and land.

As they cross the bridge, Ilmarė lifted one finger.  “I hear something.”

Suddenly, from just ahead of them, the icy surface of the water exploded into movement.  Four long tentacles whipped out of the water, reaching over the span of the bridge.  They frantically flailed towards Vlad.

“Get back!” shouted Ilmarė.  

The creature below them was like nothing they had ever seen.  Larger than a draft horse, it was both insect-like and snail-like, with features of a squid as well.  Its four grasping tentacles whipped around Vlad and dragged him towards a pair of vicious-looking claws.  A forest of eyes adorned its head.  Two pairs of legs that ended in grasping digits gripped one of the pylons raising the bridge above the water.  A vertical, fish-like tail flapped wildly as it climbed higher, slowly moving onto the bridge.

Vlad struggled briefly as the tentacles whipped around his limbs, but then he slumped forward, his features twisted in a rictus of horror. 

“Don’t let its tentacles touch you!” shouted Kham.  

Dril unshouldered his rifle and ran across the bridge to the other side.  He kneeled and fired.

The crack of the rifle caught the thing’s attention.  It turned and began to crawl its way along the side of the bridge towards Dril.  

“Uh oh.”  Dril frenetically struggled to reload his rifle. 

Vlad dropped from its tentacles and slid onto the icy surface of the river below.  

Dril dropped his rifle and drew his scimitar and knife.  He hacked at one tentacle and slapped another aside with his blade, but the other two snaked in under his defenses and lifted him up by the ankles.  Dril hung limply, paralyzed.

Ilmarė fired an arrow at it. The shaft merely stuck out of the thick carapace.  “How do we stop it?”

“The more important question is…” Kham took a potion out of from the many pockets in his overcoat and swigged it.  “How do we stop Vlad?”

Vlad’s rigid body slipped towards the hole in the ice through which the beast had erupted.  Rushing black water boiled beneath it, oddly out of place for a normally sedentary moat.

With a running leap, Kham dove onto the surface of the ice.  He slipped across it and collided with the paralyzed Milandisian.  It was enough to send Vlad skittering across the ice and safely away from the hole.

Ilmarė dragged Vlad off the ice. 

Kham struggled to his feet, only to see a large shadow loom over him. 

“That’s right,” said Kham.  “Come get the stupid human bait.”

Kham whirled just as the tentacles whip-cracked where he was standing.  He skated along the ice, further out, where he could see the black water beneath the ice. 

The thing followed him.  It claws click-clicked their way across the surface, digging into the ice for purchase.  The claws snapped reflexively and its mouth-tentacles undulated, almost as if the thing was fretting over the escape of its prey.

It put another claw forward.  A spider web of cracks appeared beneath it.

“Come on.” Kham drew both of his pistols.  “I’m right here!” 

The thing skittered tentatively towards Kham, lifting one clawed leg at a time.  It loomed over him, tentacles flailing.

“Kham,” shouted Ilmarė, “What the hell are you doing?” 

Kham pointed his two pistols at the ice between him and the creature.  He cocked both hammers back…and fired.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 4c: Returning to the Castle*

The effect was instantaneous.  Ice exploded in a great geyser of black water, churning up a froth that caused a chain reaction across the ice. Spider web cracks appeared in a halo around the creature and then gave away completely, sheering a hunk of ice downwards into the rushing moat. The lobster-fish monstrosity slipped down one side and out of sight.

“Thank Althares,” said Kham.  “We got—“

The thing broke water at the far end of the chunk of ice, rising with a great whooshing noise.  It rose vertically, towering overhead, blocking out the sun.  The claws reached forward.  The beast, in all of its monstrous glory, fell onto the ice with a shattering crash, narrowly missing Kham.  It drove the far end of the ice underwater; the river sucked hungrily at it.  

“Kham!’ shouted Ilmarė.  “Hold on!”

“To what?” Kham shouted back.  The tentacles whipped from side to side.  Kham floundered backwards away from it.

Kham clung to the top of the ice sheet for dear life, even as it began to tilt downwards. 

“Thoron, im toltho le!”

The tentacles snapped irresistibly at everything: great chunks of ice fell into the insatiable maw, blindly churning away.

Something tugged at the back of Kham’s jacket.  It was a golden eagle, its claws deep in his collar.  

The creature’s great head weaved side to side. The ice was at a treacherous incline, slippery with water.  

Below Kham on the ice, the thing lunged again, shifting weight so that the ice listed to the side.  Water from the moat splashed upwards, soaking Kham’s legs.

Dril shook himself out of his stupor.  The paralysis had worn off.  He looked around for his rifle.

The beast lunged again.  The tentacles licked at Kham’s heels. 

Dril seized his rifle.  He braced himself and aimed, taking a bead at an opening in-between the thing’s carapace when it bent over the ice. 

Kham clambered as far from the thing as he could. He was forced to climb higher and higher as the ice slowly sank beneath him.

Dril fired. 

With a muffled boom, the lobster-like creature was suddenly blown apart in a geyser of green.  A gigantic convulsion slipped the thing’s mangled body into the river.  Relieved of its weight, the ice snapped back into a horizontal position, hurling Kham onto dry land. 

Vlad, Dril, and Ilmarė stood over him.  

“He saved my life,” said Vlad.

“And mine,” said Dril. 

Ilmarė shook her head in disbelief. “You have to be the stupidest human I have ever met.”

He threw one arm over his face to shield his eyes from the falling snow.  “That’s because I’m not human,” gasped Kham.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 5a: The King in Yellow*

The main door was open, with light and the sounds of merriment spilling out into the night.  Once inside, a portcullis dropped down, followed by the main castle door slamming shut.

“The fate of the Duchy of Moratavia is now in our hands,” said Dril.

As the warmth of the castle welcomed them, the strangeness of it was oddly repulsive.  The ceilings vaulted thirty feet above them.  The stonework was mostly black, and everywhere yellow candles flickered, casting a haunting illumination.  

“This hall is definitely larger than I remembered,” said Vlad. 

Suddenly, mist erupted from a wall.  It swirled and caressed like a living thing, soundlessly moving over the stone.  When it cleared moments later, the wall became an archway.

“Let me guess,” said Kham, “that’s our invitation.”

Vlad entered and his companions followed.  Beyond the archway lay a spiral stairway leading upwards into a tower.  Hanging on either side of the archway were a pair of heraldic banners.  Their dimensions and quality denoted that they were the banners of a king.  A single, enormous Yellow Sign was in the center of each banner, contrasting with the rich sable material.

“Welcome back!” called a merry voice from behind them.

Kham spun, both pistols leveled at…a jester in a yellow mask.

The jester’s clothing was rich and parti-colored in black and gold, decorated with jingle bells.  He wore a hat with three long tips and his shoes were curled upwards at the toe.

“Clowns.”  Kham didn’t lower his pistols.  “Why did it have to be clowns?”

“Oh, you’ll get used to things like that,” said the jester.  “Please, follow me.  The King wishes to see you.  I’m to guide you to the feast hall, otherwise you might get lost.  And we can’t have that now, can we?”

“No,” said Ilmarė slowly.  “We can’t have that.”

The jester led them along a winding course, up and down stairways, across halls, and around several turns.  As he pranced ahead of them, the jester chatted about the acts and courses of the feast they missed.  “The best has yet to come.  You arrived just in time!”

“Can you hear that?” Ilmarė cocked her head to listen.

It soon became apparent that the sound traveled throughout the castle, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once.  They could hear carols, musical numbers, singers and choirs, toasts and laughter, even the stamping of dancing feet. 

“Young Cael,” shouted Adolphos’ herald, “Bard of Lost Carcosa.”

The jester leaped up and down, clapping his hands.  “Oh he’s my favorite!  Have you heard his story yet?  It’s the rage all over the kingdom.”

“Ah, crap,” said Kham.  

“No?” asked the jester.  “Well, you’re going to love it, I promise you.  Hurry now, if we move quickly we can get there in time for the end!”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 5b: The King in Yellow*

Cael spoke of several traditional tales as they traveled to the feast hall.  His voice was clear and strong, skilled and youthful.  

“Cael is quite skilled,” said Ilmarė, “and apparently much younger than we thought.” She grabbed one of the candles. 

After each story there was much applause and toasting to the bard’s health.

“What are you doing?” asked Vlad.  

The hot wax was easily crushed in the elorii’s hand.  “Old Mother Esther survived Umor’s Tale only because she could not hear.  We must deafen ourselves if we are to survive.  Quickly now!” She balled up two pieces of wax and put them in her pointed ears.

Cael’s voice changed, sad and world-weary.  “Hear me now, gathered host, as I tell a tale of sadness, beauty, and loss.  I speak now the tale that should not be spoken, the tale of He Who Should Not Be Named.  I speak now the tale of Lost Carcosa and the coming of the King in Yellow.”

Dril and Vlad grabbed candles and plugged their ears with wax.  

The crowd hushed.  Kham didn’t move, listening intently. 

“Kham?” asked Vlad.  “Why aren’t you using the wax?”

“There’s only one way to figure out this thing,” said Kham.  “I think I have to experience this story for myself.”

“What?” asked Dril.

Kham nodded to the jester, who waited expectantly.  “Lead on,” he said. “This is one vassal who is tired of taking orders from his King.”


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 5c: The King in Yellow*

The tale was hauntingly beautiful and horrible. When Kham listened to Cael narrate, each voice took on a distinct tone until they were completely separate entities in his mind. 

The King in Yellow dealt with the inhabitants of a decadent alien city, adjacent to Aldebaran, which was prominent in the night skies.  The main characters belonged to the royal family of the city, including the Queen, Cassilda, Camilla, Uohot, Thale, and Aldones. Most of the play dealt with their squabbles over the line of succession to the throne of Hastur. 



> _“Mother,” said Thale, “must the Dynasty die only because you are bored?  Only a word from you, and the Black Stars would rise again.  Whatever your soothsaying, Alar could not stand against them; you know that.  It would be—it would be an act of mercy to the people.”_



During one such squabble, the royal folk heard a stranger in a pallid mask who openly wore the abhorrent Yellow Sign and who, carried by byakhee, recently arrived in the city.  Coinciding with the stranger’s arrival were visions of an illusionary ghost city on the opposite shore of the Lake of Hali, a city whose uppermost towers appear to be obscured by one of the planet’s twin moons.



> _“A stranger!” said Cassilda.  “Now living god, hear that.  You all have the mists of Hali in your brains.  I know every face in Hastur, and in Alar, too.  Camilla, how many people do you think there are in the living world?  A spate of handfuls, and I’ve seen them all.”_



The Queen and her children summoned the stranger before them.  Their haughty questioning of the masked being elicited much confusing allegory but few coherent answers.  He claimed to provide a means of averting the arrival of the King in Yellow, or the Last King, through the masquerade.



> _“Not so fast,” said the stranger.  “I would not kill you, or myself.  I propose a masque, if you will pardon me the word play.  All will wear exactly what they choose, except that all will also wear the pallid mask.  I myself shall wear the Yellow Sign, just as I do now.  When you are all convinced, the masks shall be doffed; and then you may announce the Succession, all in perfect safety.”_



Later, at the masked ball, everyone unmasked except the stranger, who revealed that his pallid mask was no mask at all.



> _“I am the Pallid Mask itself,” said the Stranger. “I, I, I am the Phantom of Truth.  I came from Alar.  My star is Aldebaran.  Truth is our invention; it is our weapon of war.  And see—by this sign we have conquered, and the siege of good and evil is ended…”_



The ghostly city of Carcosa and the King in Yellow appeared in flames.  The Stranger, claiming to be the Phantom of Truth, sought to repel the King in Yellow, but was easily cast aside.  The hoary, tattered Yellow King informed them that only one city would exist on the shores of Hali, and that city was Carcosa. 

Kham squinted in disbelief as a child stepped out in front of him on a stage.  His companions, the jester, the castle…all were gone.







> _“I am not the Prologue, nor the Afterword,” said the child.  “Call me the Prototaph. My role is this: to tell you it is now too late to close the book or quit the theatre.  You already thought you should have done so earlier, but you stayed.  How harmless it all is!  No definite principles are involved, no doctrines promulgated in these pristine pages, no convictions outraged…but the blow has fallen, and now it is too late.  And shall I tell you where the sin lies?  It is yours.  You listened to us; and all the same you stay to see the Sign.  Now you are ours, or, since the runes also run backwards, we are yours…forever.”_


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 6a: The End*

They arrived at the entrance to the feast hall, a feast hall made from the wood of a scarred oak, as the horrible tale ended.  

Ilmarė took the wax out of her ears and drew her bow.  The others did likewise, although there was no sign of Kham.

Cael sighed.  “So spoken, so ends my tale.  And so too ends all else.”  

After the echo of the last word faded, the hall erupted into screams of madness.  Mists and shadows filled the room.

The jester bowed deeply, sweeping his arms toward the macabre scenery that had transformed the feast hall.  

“See, we are just in time,” he said merrily. “I have brought you to the King, as I promised.  I present to you The Last King, The King in Yellow, He Who Should Not Be Named…my master, and yours.”

The jester peaked up from his bow and suddenly collapsed, like a marionette whose strings was cut. It lay motionless at Vlad’s feet.

Dril raised his rifle, but he wasn’t sure what to aim at.

A handsome Ardakene elorii walked towards them as he exited the hall.  He was dressed in a brown tunic embroidered with the Yellow Sign, and a multicolored cloak.  He was weeping, wiping his tears as he exited.  Behind him, a menacing figure coalesced from a plume of mist filling the center of the room.  

“So Cael was an elorii in disguise all along,” said Ilmarė.  “What have you done?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye to the oak before I left this guise,” said Cael.  “I sacrificed three human lifetimes protecting this duchy from horrors like that!” He pointed at the King in Yellow raging behind him. “Duke Adolphos promised me it would stand until I passed, but he cut it down to make a feast hall for his drunken warriors!  The sacred Oak, center of the Order of Belisarda, cut down to make a feast hall!  For months I waited for an apology and it never came!”

Vlad blinked.  “An apology? We have it here!”  He dug the scroll out from a pouch at his belt and handed it to Cael.

As the elorii read the letter, it was as if a great weight lifted from him.  The range and despair that haunted his eyes faded.  But then fresh screams erupted in the feast hall behind him.  

The King had no face and was twice as tall as a man.  It wore pointed shoes under its tattered, yellow robes, and a streamer of silk appeared to fall from the pointed tip of its hood.  It morphed and changed, at times winged, at others, haloed. 

Cael turned to see the King in Yellow and the color drained from his face.  “What have I done? I broke my vows, I betrayed the Order of the Twelve Oaks…in the name of all that is good, what have I done?”

“You’ve got to do something!” said Dril, keeping his rifle trained on the swirling mass of yellow cloth at the center of the hall.

Behind the King in Yellow, the wall of the feast hall vanished.  Instead, there appeared a huge sculptured shield, in a shape suggesting a double-headed axe of onyx, upon which the Yellow Sign was chased in gold.

“I fear it is too late to stop this,” said Cael.

“You were once a defender of Milandir,” said Vlad.  “I understand how hard it can be to protect people who don’t appreciate you.  But if you fail now, all of Moratavia—maybe all of Onara—will be lost.  The Unspeakable One took advantage of your rage.  You brought him into this world…you’re the only one who can send him back!”

The young man looked over at Vlad and took a deep breath.  Suddenly, he stood taller; fear and uncertainty drained away from him.  He was once again Cael, a bard and a Knight of the Order of the Twelve Oaks.  When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and true.

“We have but one chance.  There is a magic I know that can banish the King in Yellow from our world.  The risks are great and I will require your help.  I cannot do this alone.  Even with your help, the magic might fail.”

Just then, Kham charged out of the confused mass of nobles and servants with Fleshripper held high, screaming like a madman at the top of his lungs.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King - Part 6b: The End*

Dril blocked Kham’s blow with his rifle.  

“Now what?  I don’t want to hurt him!”

“He’s gone mad!” shouted Cael.  “He heard my tale. The King in Yellow has taken him!”

Ilmarė bit her lip.  “I will try to reach him.”  She put her bow away, closed her eyes, and lifted her hands up. 

In the midst of all the madness and grief, the elorii’s voice rang out.

“_Anírach únad egor gurth hen,_” sang Ilmarė.  She knew Kham wanted nothing more than death.

Kham paused, uncertain, the blade still in his hands.

“Join hands in a ring around me!” shouted Cael.

Cael began chanting, the words racing from him.  

“_Han cenin vi chen lín,_” sang Ilmarė.  She could see it in Kham’s eyes.

Cael gasped for breath between chants, speaking the words clearly and unbelievably quickly. 

“_Egor ú-erin le devi_,” sang Ilmarė.  She could not let Kham harm them.

In moments, Cael began to wither.  His strong form twisted and shuddered, feeding the magic he summoned.   “It’s not enough,” he shouted.  “We need one more!”

Ilmarė released Vlad’s hand to reach out to Kham.  He slowly lowered Fleshripper.  The elorii gripped Kham’s wrist.  Vlad took the val’s other hand.

“_Tellin men achae_,” sang Ilmarė.  They had come too far.

Suddenly, there was a tugging on their very souls.  The air crackled with energy.  Cael spoke faster and faster and the room started to spin. Mists arose all around them, lashing like serpents, but they were unable to approach the ring.

“_Gerin men anann,_” sang Ilmarė.  They must hold together a bit longer.

As the power of the spell surged, it felt as if their hearts might burst.  Cael stood vibrating in the center of the circle, barely able to hold himself upright. Yet his voice never weakened and the chant never wavered.

Kham’s arm twitched.  He was muttering feverishly to himself. A titanic battle struggled in his mind.  Ilmarė knew that if he let go of the circle, the spell would be ruined and they would all surely die.  She kept singing, a beautiful accompaniment to Cael’s sturdy baritone. 

“_Rago! Ú-erich leithio,_” sang Ilmarė.  Kham could not let go.

Suddenly, the King in Yellow launched himself at the circle.  Razor sharp yellow strands lashed out.  Eyes filled with madness and menace bore down on them, but the awesome power of the King in Yellow was turned aside.

“_Ú-erich o nin gwanno,_” sang Ilmarė.  She pleaded with Kham not leave her.

“You cannot turn me back, Cael Greybeard,” shrieked a ghostly voice. “You opened the way; you invited me into your world.  Such an invitation cannot be rescinded.  Moratavia is mine! Carcosa is mine!” 
The King in Yellow reached up and drew away the Pallid Mask.  “Look upon me, foolish mortals.  Look upon me and despair!  I am your King now!”

“Don’t look at it!” shouted Cael as he finished the spell.

The yellow tatterdemalion danced about in rage, thwarted.  Its prize, the Duchy of Moratavia, was lost.  The King in Yellow screeched a horrific howl as all that had come to pass was undone and it was hurled away from Onara and back to Carcosa.


----------



## talien

*Herald of the Yellow King -  Conclusion*

Kham awoke slowly, days later, in bed within the castle of Duke Adolphos val’Tenson.  Vlad, Dril, and Ilmarė stood over him.

“He’s awake!” exclaimed Vlad.  He sat down on the bed.  “How are you feeling?”

Kham blinked.  “So it was all a dream?”

“Not quite,” said Ilmarė.  “It seems we all collapsed just after we were summoned to deliver an apology to the oldest man in Milandir.”

“Collapsed?” asked Kham.  “I wasn’t even drunk!”

“Others undertook the task for us,” said Dril.  “They said the old storyteller died in his sleep the night before.”

“And the villages?”

“Derek’s Holding, Dunover and Brighton are whole and intact,” said Vlad. “I visited myself to be sure.  The peasants are all tilling the land and living their lives as if nothing happened.”

“But something did happen…didn’t it?”

“You’ve been out a long time, Kham,” said Dril.  “My guess is that whatever we did warped reality.  The King in Yellow is gone.  For a little while, anyway.”

Kham stared at the elorii.  “I…you…” He struggled to come up with a wisecrack.  “Thanks.”

Ilmarė said nothing.  She just smiled at him and patted the val on one hand.  “Stupid human,” she whispered.  

“We’ll leave you be,” said Vlad.  “You’ve been unconscious for days.”

Alone with his thoughts, Kham moved to rub his forehead when he noticed something.

It was a scar, almost a brand.  On the back of his hand was a mark in the shape of an acorn.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 24: Cut Throat's Gold - Introduction*

This is one of a series of adventures in Tales of Freeport, "Cut-Throat’s Gold," written by Graeme Davis and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Bijoux (fihali druid) played by Melissa Tresca
•	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca (http://www.creepyportfolio.com)  
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure is notable for the fact that it had nearly every player in the campaign, which makes things alternately confusing and exciting.  Unlike previous adventures where I was surprised by how many PCs showed up, I was ready for them this time.  

The PC levels ranged from 5th through 7th level (the adventure is for a party of levels 4-7), but I boosted every monster’s stats in anticipation for a much larger party.  I used all the Challenge Rating calculation rules and was pleasantly surprised to discover they really do work.  By the end of the adventure, things were grim and we finally had our first PC death.  I’ll let you guess who.

This adventure is essentially a series of battles with not a whole lot of plot thrown in.  As a result, the PCs took over (with eight people, they’re practically their own adventure!) and I let them run free with the role-playing.  Then I beat the crap out of them with everything the Sulfur Marsh had to offer.  Or not offer, as the case may be.

I’ve also learned the beauty of using terrain and weather to seriously disadvantage characters.  When coupled with a monster or five, it turns a bad situation to worse.  But that’s okay, there’s eight PCs, they should be able to handle it, right? 

Probably the biggest challenge in running this adventure was convincing everyone to go.  You’ll see that Dril doesn’t particularly like ss’ressen (as well he shouldn’t), that Sebastian sympathizes with the racial biases against them, and that Calactyte really doesn’t care one way or another.  This is Cal’s adventure—it’s his home village, after all—but it doesn’t mean he is necessarily in control.

I used Saltmarsh from the DMG II, placed it in Milandir at the edge of the Sulfur Marsh, and renamed it Sulfurmarsh.  The rest fit perfectly, right down to the lizardfolk embassy and the lizard-friendly inn.  I use the DMG II more than I use all of the other core rulebooks combined.

A few things I learned: Death Masters (from the first volume of the Dragon Compendium) kick ass.  Entombers are hysterical.  And all those necrotic spells from Libris Mortis are really, really nasty.

P.S. Did I mention Death Masters kick ass?


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Prologue*

A beautiful elorii and a man dressed in a dark blue overcoat stood outside The Lizard’s Boat, an inn and tavern.  An intricate sign built to resemble a sailing ship that had caught on fire hung above the main entrance.  Magical flames danced on the faux ship, making the sign particularly easy to spot from a distance. A half-dozen small lizards were perched atop the sign, snatching moths that were attracted to the flames.  

“This place stinks,” said Ilmarė.  

“Tell me about it,” said Kham.  “That’s sulfur you’re smelling.  That means,” he patted the many pistols beneath his coat, “the ladies have to be quiet for awhile.”

“That explain why the guards were so hesitant to let you in.”

Kham peered over his green lenses at her. “I think it had more to do with you than with me.  I haven’t seen many elves around these parts.”

“Sulfurmarsh is a little backwater spit hole,” said Ilmarė. “If there are no elorii here, I’m sure it’s by choice.”

Kham shrugged.  “This isn’t my turf.” A large Milandisian and a smaller Altherian with a rifle strapped across his back strode up to them. “Judging by the faces of those two, it’s not theirs either.”

“Well?” asked Ilmarė.

“No luck,” said Vlad.  “The shopkeeper wouldn’t sell us any potions at all, much less anything else.”

“I tried to impress upon her the importance of the hero who stood before her,” said Dril, annoyed, “but the damn woman wasn’t interested.”

“Did you show her the dolphin pin that Thralen Vodric gave you?” asked Kham.  The look on Vlad’s face jarred his memory.  “Oh wait…I forgot.  Never mind.”

“That’s about as useful as letting her know that he saved Moratavia from becoming part of Carcosa,” said Ilmarė.  “Nobody but us remembers that.”

A messenger finally broke the uncomfortable silence.  “Message for Kham val’Abebi from Sulfurmarsh Sendings.”

“That’s me,” said Kham.  He peered over his lenses at the boy.

“I was instructed to go directly to this location and speak to no one else,” said the messenger.  He handed Kham a small scroll.  

Kham flipped him an imperial.  “Thanks.”  He unrolled the scroll and scanned it. Then he cursed.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“It’s a message from Thuron.  They’ve lost track of the baby ssanu that hatched in Freeport.”

“Good riddance,” said Dril.

Kham caught himself before he unleashed an angry retort.  Instead, he just tucked the note into his belt and entered the Lizard’s Boat.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 1a: Starting the Adventure*

The Lizard’s Boat was a fairly clean and comfortable establishment.  Lizard motifs continued inside the tavern, with carved lizards on the bar and walls, and lizards painted on the dishes and tables.

Dril took it all in, his hands never leaving the hilt of the scimitar that dangled at his side. “There’s far too many lizards here for my liking.”

“BRIIIIIIIIBIIIIIIT!” 

Ilmarė checked over her shoulder to confirm that Kham was still behind her.  

“Excuse me!” A dark-kin in one corner of the tavern put a gloved hand to his lips.

“Sebastian!” shouted Vlad.  He walked over to the smaller man and vigorously pumped Sebastian’s hand.  “It’s good to see you again!”

Sebastian smiled at them all.  “And you.”  He nodded towards Dril. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

Dril nodded back.  “My name’s Nauris Drilian.  My friends call me Dril.”

Vlad patted Dril on the back.  “Dril helped us defeat the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

“Then you’re my friend as well,” said Sebastian.

Kham sat down next to Sebastian and kicked his feet up.  A one-handed elorii female brought over three mugs in one hand.  Her hair was cut extremely short and the tip of one of her ears was missing.  She wordlessly placed the mugs down on the table.  

“Thank you, Kailee,” said Sebastian. 

Kailee flashed Sebastian a brief smile.  Then she returned to the bar.

“Still popular with the ladies I see.” Kham gulped the contents of one of the mugs.  “And elorii ladies no less,” he said specifically for Ilmarė’s benefit.

Ilmarė snorted but merely sat down on the other side of Sebastian. Vlad and Dril joined them.

“Where’s Beldin?” asked Vlad.  “I thought he was sent ahead of us?” 

“He was.”  Sebastian looked sideways at a lone dwarf at the bar.  

“Is that a lizard laying underneath the bar?” asked Ilmarė.

“Yes,” said Sebastian.  “That’s Sticktongue.  He’s both bouncer and mascot.”

Kham twitched. “I think one of the lizards just crawled across my leg.”  

“Charming.” Ilmarė sniffed tentatively at a mug and then pushed it away in disgust. “If one touches me,” she fingered a knife at her belt. “I’m going to stab it.”

“That’s why I brought Calactyte here,” said Sebastian. “Kailee is a friend to all reptiles and to the Black Talon ss’ressen in particular.”

Dril rose from his chair.  “Ss’ressen?  You’re friends with a lizard?”

Vlad put one hand on Dril’s shoulder.  “Relax.  Cal’s a friend.”

Dril slowly returned to his seat, perturbed. 

“Why is Beldin sitting by himself over there?” Kham took another swig.  “Beldin!” he shouted to the dwarf.  “Get over here!”

The dwarf slid off his stool and grumpily stumped over to the table, axe in tow.

“Guys, guys, guys,” said Kham. “Come on.” He slid a chair over to the table by hooking it with one foot. “You two have to kiss and make up.”

Beldin sat down on it with a huff but refused to look at Sebastian.

“Listen,” said Kham.  “I understand you’re mad at each other.  But Sebastian, Beldin swore an oath to Jarel to keep a secret, and you have to understand that means he’ll make a loyal friend.”  He took another swig.  “And Beldin, I know you’re mad that Sebastian never told you that he belongs to the Shield, but maybe he was doing it to protect you.” He took a long gulp, completely finishing the contents of his mug.  “As for me, I…” Kham stopped talking.  He blinked.

“Oh dear,” said Sebastian.  “I’m afraid this is going to be a big one.”

Kham held up one hand. His eyes started to water.

“Big what?” asked Vlad.

“It’s the Blue Frog Brew.”  Sebastian moved his seat away from Kham.  “It’s flavored with sweet marsh blueberries. It causes extreme—”

“BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBBIT!” Kham’s burp was so loud that it blew Ilmarė’s hair back.  The val gasped for breath afterwards. 

“—gas,” finished Sebastian.

The elorii glared daggers at Kham. “Thanks for the warning.”

“That,” Kham wiped his lips with the back of one hand, “is some nasty stuff. I get the frog part. But why do they call it blue frog?”  

Vlad struggled to keep from laughing. The back of Kham’s hand and his lips were entirely blue.

“Never mind.”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 1b: Starting the Adventure*

“We’ve come a long way to see Cal,” said Ilmarė.  “How is he?”

Sebastian frowned.  “His recovery has taken far longer than it should.  Cal has been in and out of consciousness for weeks.”

“And what of Bijoux?”

The dark-kin smiled.  Dril noted that his fangs were visible.  “The fihali has not left his side.  She has brewed a new concoction I’ve never seen before, from the Sulfur Marsh plants.  I’m hopeful that it will wake the ss’ressen from his stupor.”

Just then, the six-foot tall lizardfolk came down the steps, escorted by a feline-like being with winged membranes between its arms.  The odd couple slowly made their way over to the table.

“Cal!” said Vlad.  He stood up to shake Cal’s hand.  “How are you feeling?”

The lizard’s head swung from person to person, sniffing the air.  “Better.”  Calactyte put one hand out and patted the big man on the head.  “Good to see you too.”

“It seems my stew worked.” Bijoux clung to Cal’s arm as if she alone were holding him up.  

“I had a vision that my tribe was in trouble,” said Cal in a gruff voice.  “Something about a Chosen One.  They need my help.  I’m going to go visit my village.”

“I’ll go with you, Cal,” said Sebastian.  “It’s not that far from here.  If Kialee’s estimations are correct, it shouldn’t be more than two day’s walk.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “Well, I’ll go too.  There are rumors of pirate treasure in the Sulfur Marsh…”

“I’m in,” Vlad said quickly before Kham finished.

“Maybe we can get rich while Cal reunites with his family,” said Kham. “Or whatever it is lizards have.” He threw one arm around Beldin.  “I’m sure Beldin will go too.  Because he’s such a good friend.  Isn’t that right, Beldin?”

The dwarf grunted.

It was unspoken that where Cal went, Bijoux would go with him.  The two outcasts had become quite attached to each other.  

That left Ilmarė.  They all turned to look at her expectantly. 

“Fine,” said the elorii, throwing up her hands.  “If the big lizard needs our help, we’ll help.”

Dril shook his head in disbelief.  “I don’t believe it. You’re all going to go with this…thing?”

Kham took his lenses off to look Dril squarely in the eye.  “Look, I know he looks like one of the Ssethregorans.  But he’s all right. Saved my life once, as a matter of fact.” 

Dril snorted.  “I expect it from them, but you…you’re an Altherian!”  He turned to address Cal, who watched him impassively.  “No offense, but your people slaughtered my people.”

“How is that statement not offensive?” asked Ilmarė.  

“Easy,” said Kham.  He turned to Ilmarė.  “Your people slaughtered my people. You keep threatening to wage a war on all of humanity, so I don’t see how this is any different.”

Sebastian put down his mug. “You shouldn’t judge people by appearances alone. Just because someone has a forked tongue, or fangs—“ 

“Or a tail,” added Kham.

Sebastian looked sideways at Kham.  “Or a tail, doesn’t mean that they’re necessarily monsters.  It’s what’s on the inside that counts.  We’ve fought with Cal at our side before and he’s a stalwart ally.”  He looked over at the dwarf.  “Reliable friends are few and far between.”

Cal shrugged.  “You guys can do whatever you want.  I’m leaving.”

The ss’ressen grabbed his axe from behind the bar and made his way to the door.

Dril took a deep breath. “Fine.  But if any of those things give me a reason, I will not hesitate to ends its life.”

Kham rose to his feet and adjusted the two bandoliers that crisscrossed his chest. “You’ll fit in just fine,” he said.  “You sound just like the elf.”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2a: Landfall*

The Sulfur Marsh was a steaming, stinking pile of vegetation, mounds of earth, spiky brush, and trees with arching roots.  Small clusters of islands were huddled together here and there.  All throughout, the stench of sulfur suffused the air.

“So…why aren’t we taking a boat into Sulfur Marsh?” Ilmarė gingerly stepped from sucking pool of water to bubbling puddle of mud.

“Won’t work,” the ss’ressen shook his head.  “The water is deep in some places, shallow in others.”

“Great,” Kham looked over at Dril.  “Well, judging by the stench of this place, we’re going to have to be very careful about firing any flintlocks.”

“Why?” Vlad had sheathed the dwarven-forged blade Grungronazharr in favor of the ssanu Vrosh’s spear. He used it to poke about in the marsh and shove aside vegetation.

“Sulfur is a key ingredient in blackpowder,” explained Kham.  “Mix it with the explosion from a pistol and we all go boom.”

Dril adjusted the rifle over his shoulder. “If it comes to that, I’ll take my chances.”

“That’s why the Black Talon ss’ressen live here,” said Vlad.  “No Milandisians want this territory.”

Sebastian stumbled along behind the rest of them.  “I can see why.” He scratched at himself every few seconds. An array of oddly colored bumps were scattered over his face.

“I told you not to touch anything,” said Cal.  “The ashûussaalliiss plant can’t penetrate ss’ressen skin.  But it can hurt weaker races.”

Dril shot Cal a glare. “Weaker races?”

Bijoux’s head hung upside-down in front of Dril. “He means races that are not as hardy.”  She was gliding from branch to branch above them.

“Bah!” said Beldin, stumping along up to his chest in the muck.  “Dwarves could survive in the swamp.  They just don’t want to. The elder races knew where to make their homes, right Ilmarė?”

Beldin was answered with silence.

“Ilmarė?”

Everyone turned to look.  There was only a small pool of bubbles where Ilmarė had stood moments before. 

“Thûdhiis!” snapped Cal.

“What?” asked Dril.

“Quicksand!” shouted Beldin just before he too went under.

“Damn it,” shouted Kham. “Did we lose the elf again?”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2b: Landfall*

Kham clambered up on a mat of floating vegetation.  “I’m going after her!” Without hesitation, he put his hands together and dove into the muck.

“Nobody move,” said Cal.  “The thûdhiis will suck you down if you struggle.”

“Hold on!” shouted Sebastian to Beldin.  He reached out to grab one of Beldin’s arms, still visible above the surface of the muck.

Beldin bobbed to the surface, sputtering. “Don’t worry about me,” he shouted back.  “Worry about the elf!  I’m fine.”

Everyone grabbed branches and weapons, trying to extend something for Ilmarė to grab onto.

“Strange,” said Cal.  He stood calmly with the slime up to his thighs, staring into the impenetrable morass that was the Sulfur Marsh.  “We have yet to be attacked.”

“Attacked by what?” asked Vlad.

“Creatures of Sulfur Marsh use thûdhiis as a trap to catch their prey,” said Cal matter-of-factly.

“There's something alive down there,” interjected Beldin.

“That's your imagination,” said Vlad. ”Don’t listen to Cal.”

“Something just moved past my leg,” said Beldin.  He peered down into the dirty water. “Look! Did you see that?”

“What?” asked Sebastian.

Beldin was suddenly yanked under the surface. 

“Beldin?” shouted Sebastian.  “Beldin!”

Beldin surfaced with a gasp of air and thrashing of limbs. A sprig of mossy green vegetation was wrapped around his throat.

“Beldin!” shouted Bijoux. She extended a long branch toward him. “Beldin, grab a hold of this.”

“Shoot it!” shouted Beldin.  

“I’m not sure if I should,” said Dril. 

Beldin’s face was getting red.  Whatever it was started to squeeze him. “Just shoot it!” 

“Where?” asked Dril.

“Anywhere!” shouted Beldin. 

Dril hesitated.  Firing his rifle could kill them all.

Before he could shout more instructions, Beldin was pulled back into the muck. 

“Beldin!” shouted Sebastian, hands wide in preparation to cast a spell.  

Beldin bobbed to the surface. 

“Grab him!” shouted Bijoux.

Just then, foliage sprung out of the water, dripping slime.  It was a pile of rotting vegetation loosely shaped in humanoid form.

“Rrhiillîissaa!” snarled Cal. He advanced on the thing with his axe.

“I don’t need that translated,” said Sebastian. “Ustilo radius!” Two beams of fire coruscated from his outstretched fingers and sizzled into the monstrous plant. He was rewarded with a feeble hiss of smoke as the damp vegetation failed to ignite.  

Beldin surged out of the water with his axe.  “Attack me, will you?”  He hacked off what might have been a limb, but tendrils of roots and leaves twisted to replace it.

“We’re lucky,” said Cal.  “It’s not raining.”

With a shout, Vlad speared the shambling mound where its head would be. It collapsed into the water. 

Dril was busy reloading his rifle.  “You consider that luck?” he asked in disbelief.  “That thing nearly killed Beldin!”

Vlad stood triumphant over the defeated plant matter, Vrosh’s spear crackling with electrical energy. 

“The rrhiillîissaa is most active during storms,” lectured Cal.  “They are attracted to the lightning.”

Vlad looked sideways at the spear.  “Why is that?”

“Because electricity makes them stronger.”

“Ah, crap,” said Vlad.

The shambling mound reared up again, this time bigger than before.  The matted vegetation was suffused with sticks and rocks.  It had definitely become more powerful.

Beldin roared and hacked at the thing like a woodsman gone mad. 

“Give me a break!” Vlad looked around helplessly.  “I’ve never used this spear before!”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2c: Landfall*

Kham surfaced with the unconscious Ilmarė.  He spat out a mouthful of swamp water. 

His companions were gasping for breath.  All around them were bits and pieces of vegetation.

“Is she all right?” asked Vlad.

“She’ll be fine.” Kham leaned over Ilmarė.  “She just needs a little mouth to—“

Ilmarė grabbed Kham by the jaw and shoved him away.  “I’m fine, thanks.”

Kham rubbed his jaw.  “So what were you all doing while I was rescuing the damsel in distress?”

“Fighting a rrhiillîissaa,” said Cal. 

“A ree-WHAT-sa?”

“But it dove under the water just now,” said Beldin.  His beard was dripping wet. “Maybe you scared it off.”

“Yeah, right,” said Kham.  

Bijoux cocked her head.  “Listen.”

The Sulfur Marsh was normally a tremendous din of strange creatures croaking, chirping, burbling and growling.  But it had become eerily quiet.

“I don’t hear anything,” said Dril.

“Exactly,” said Bijoux. 

Far away, something large and slimy leaped out of the water onto an overhanging branch.  The branch didn’t hold and it fell back into the water with a squeal.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Kham.

A bit closer, a swarm of beetles clambered their way up several thin reeds and stayed there.

“Ssliish râashuu!” shouted Cal.

“In a language we can understand, please,” said Sebastian.

“Ripper fish!” shouted Bijoux.  “Climb! Quickly!”

The water started to bubble around them.

“Get onto dry land!” shouted Cal.  “Hurry!”

Sebastian pulled a wand from his belt and pointed it at the bubbling water near him.  A blast of flames caused the swamp water to hiss and steam.  Several small, cleaver-shaped fish with wickedly sharp teeth floated belly-up to the surface.

They managed to scramble onto two soggy islands. 

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

“Now we wait,” said Cal.  “The ssliish râashuu follow the frhiillîissaa.  They are looking for leftovers.”

“Great,” said Ilmarė.  “So we’re stuck here for the moment.”

Kham upended one of his pistols.  A stream of swamp water flowed out of the barrel.  “How do I put this Cal…”

“Your homeland sucks,” Dril finished for him


----------



## talien

*Cut Troat's Gold - Part 2d: Landfall*

Sebastian’s bat familiar, Dracuul, glided through the Sulfur Marsh night sky with glee.  The marsh was filled with flying insects of all kinds; he had already caught quite a few juicy morsels.

His master had ordered him on patrol once he bedded down for the night.  Dracuul didn’t mind.  

He wasn’t entirely sure what to look for though.  For one, just about everything in the swamp cooed, tweeted, ribbited, growled, hissed, or screeched.  For another, there was nearly double the amount of predators at night.

A crackling fire ensured that Dracuul always knew where his master was.  Not that he needed it; he had long ago learned Sebastian’s echolocation signature.  Dracuul liked to think he could find his master anywhere, from the darkest cave to the dankest swamp…

Which was pretty much Dracuul’s current situation.  He flapped to gain some lift and then glided down towards a creature he knew would taste delicious.

Dracuul loved spiders.  He didn’t often get the chance to eat the kind that crawled around on the ground.  The ones that spun webs were just not worth the trouble.

It was a little black hairy spider standing on a tree branch, smaller than Dracuul’s head.  He would just swoop by and snatch it up.  It would be delicious!

Dracuul circled his prey.  It was alone. Probably a spiderling that had fled from home before something bigger ate it.  Well, it had good reason to be worried.

The bat swooped in for the kill.  Using his hind claws, he snapped the membrane between his two feet upwards, scooping the spider off the branch into the air in front of him.  He flapped his wings forward to guide it to his gullet.  With a gulp, it was in his mouth.

Two more crunches later and it served at Dracuul’s dessert for the night.  

It didn’t taste like the other spiders at all.  They were hairy and crunchy on the outside, and gooey on the inside.  The spiders he normally ate were all legs, with the body barely worth the effort.  In comparison, the marsh spiders were a veritable feast.

But there was something else.  Dracuul knew it immediately.  Poison.  It wasn’t strong, because it was a spiderling, but it was bad enough.  An adult could harm his master.

That’s when he saw them: dozens of spiders, hundreds…more than Dracuul knew how to count.  More than he’d ever seen in his entire lifetime.  Too many!

The marsh spiders ranged from tiny to one the size of his master’s head.  The arachnids boiled out of a hole from one of the trees near where he’d eaten the spiderling.  They were crawling in an orderly fashion down the tree, following a huge spider that must have been their mother.  Crawling towards…

“Master!” squeaked Dracuul.  “Master wake up!”

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open.  “What is it, Dracuul?”

“I was hunting a spider and they’re not as tasty as the ones I normally eat but they’re much meatier and then I ate one and it’s not all that good but I saw—“

“Slow down,” said Sebastian.  “What did you see?”

“Spiders!” He squeaked.  “Many of them, coming for revenge!”

Sebastian chuckled.  His perspective was often wildly out of proportion with the rest of the world.  

“I’m not sure that spiders understand…the concept…” his eyes lost focus as he saw the crawling mass of black making its way down the tree. “…Wake up everyone!” he shouted.

Sebastian rolled to his feet and whipped out a ruby-tipped wand.  The carpet of spiders completely concealed a stump, creating a grotesquely shaped pile of arachnids.

The others stumbled awake and away as Sebastian blasted flames in the direction of the marsh spiders.  But even as a hole opened up where he incinerated the spiders, it filled in again with even more.

“Im toltho I duaewen!” chanted Ilmarė.

Dracuul flapped around in agitation.  He wanted to help, but what could one bat do against so many?

Suddenly, the air was filled with bats.  They squeaked in confusion, not entirely sure how they’d gotten there or what they were supposed to do.

Dracuul turned to face the chaotic mass of foreign bats.  “Follow me!” he squeaked.

The bats rallied.  Dracuul dove down and scooped up one spider, just as he had before.  The bats understood.

One after another, they dive-bombed the marsh spiders, scooping them up and eating their fill.  Wherever the swarm of bats struck, no spiders were left behind.

Again and again they struck, chasing the spiders wherever they went.  Between his master’s fire and the bat army, Dracuul made short work of them. 

One word from Ilmarė and the bats dispersed.  Dracuul was a little disappointed.  He landed on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“You did well,” said his master with a smile.  “It seems you’ll be a great leader one day.”

Dracuul bobbed his head.  He was pleased.  

“Since when did you start talking to that thing?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Since he started talking back,” said Sebastian with a smirk. 

“Speaking of talking animals,” said Kham, “where’s Cal?” 

“Master,” squeaked Dracuul.  “Look down.”

The log that the spiders had swarmed over wasn’t a log at all.  It was Calactyte, still snoring peacefully.  He was unharmed. The spiders weren’t able to penetrate his scaly hide.

“Cal’s right,” said Vlad.  “Only the ss’ressen are tough enough to live in this forsaken place.”

“He can keep it,” said Dril.  “Let’s get out of here.”

Sebastian crossed his arms.  “It’s the middle of the night.  I’m not about to go traveling now.  And I didn’t have enough time to finish my meditation.  I’ll need to start again.”

“Start again?” said Kham.  “Are you kidding me?”

Sebastian shrugged.  “If you would rather continue on without the assistance of my sorcery…”

“Fine, fine,” said Ilmarė.  “But this time, can we post an actual guard instead of flying vermin?”

Safe in a tree high above them all, Bijoux’s tail flicked in agitation at the comment.  She refrained from commenting.

“I’ll stand guard,” said Dril.  “I don’t think I can sleep in this swamp anyway.”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2e: Landfall*

Dril struggled to stay awake.  The marsh was warm and the repeated trilling of the tree frogs and other creatures created a strange rhythm that lulled him to sleep.

Something highly offensive assaulted his nostrils.  Dril straightened up, rifle in hand.  He wasn’t sure what explosive marsh gas smelled like, but he knew it had to smell different than the rest of the awful odors that offended him throughout the day.

He looked around.  Dril knew that marsh gas could kill. If it were really marsh gas, there would be dead animals nearby.

Then he saw something that made him forget about the gas.

A massive dark olive-brown serpent coiled itself around Cal, who continued his blissful sleep unabated.  It had large oval black spots arranged in two alternating rows along its back, with smaller white-eyed spots along the sides. Its belly was whitish, spotted with black spots.

Dril lowered his rifle and took aim.  It wasn’t moving very quickly.  He could take one shot and end the thing’s life.  There was a grim satisfaction in putting his reptile-killing skills to good use…

But the smell!  What if it was sulfur gas?  He’d blow the whole camp to smithereens.

Dril cursed.  “Wake up!” he shouted.  “We’re under attack!”

Vlad and Beldin hopped to their feet.  They had taken to wearing their armor to sleep, an uncomfortable but necessary tactic, made all the easier by the fact that Vlad had finally sold his full plate in exchange for studded leather armor.  They grabbed their weapons and charged the beast.

What had been a roiling, slow-moving mass of serpent muscle turned into a coiled spring.  It spiraled up around Cal and hissed at its attackers.  

Beldin was slapped sideways by a blur of its tail.  The massive fangs snapped at Vlad, sinking into his wooden shield that ironically had a snake on it.  He was forced backwards into the muck.

Cal’s eyes snapped open. “Kri’kla!” 

Kham woke up next.  Two pistols were out in a flash.

“No!” said Dril.  “The gas!”

Kham looked at him sideways.  “Are you sure?”

“No,” said Dril.  “Are you?”

Kham cursed and holstered his pistols.  

“No need…to panic.” Cal gasped for breath as the giant anaconda squeezed. “I’ve got it…under control.”  

Ilmarė fired two arrows into the pebbly flesh of the serpent.  “I don’t know why I’m bothering.”  She threw down the bow in the shape of two serpents and drew her elven thinblade.

Kham pulled out an amulet from the folds of his shirt.  It displayed a coiled snake. “It’s a good thing Thuron let me borrow this.”  He rapped on it with one hand as he drew Fleshripper with the other.  

“You wear a symbol of Yig?” said Dril, incredulous.  “Why?”

“Because Yig saved Freeport,” said Kham.  He gripped Fleshripper with two hands.  “Come on, you scaly bastard!”

“Not…funny,” gasped Cal.

The snake’s head swiveled towards Kham.  

“Oh crap,” he said.  

Kham dove to the side as the head collided into the muck where he had been standing.  The snake shook its head and hissed at him.

“That’s right, get angry!”  Kham dove and tumbled to the side, completely unhindered by the marsh foliage.  “Vlad!  Beldin!  Get ready!”

Beldin roared a challenge at the anaconda, but he had to be content with its rear end.  Vlad circled around it, splashing all the way.

The snake dove again towards Kham, right past Vlad.  Kham hopped backwards just as the great, arrow-shaped head lunged for him.  

It stopped, pinned through the head by Vlad’s blade, Grungronazharr.

The coils loosened and Cal fell out from between them, gasping for air.

“We ss’ressen deal with things like this…all the time,” he said. Then he fell down into the muck face first.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 3a: The Ss’ressen Settlement*

Atop an island of higher ground in the middle of the swamp were the ruins of an ancient city.  

“Ssanu built this city,” said Beldin.  “It bears the same architecture.”

“We’re lucky Cal told you how to find it,” Sebastian said to Bijoux. “We would never have made it here otherwise.” Because of the dense foliage, it was almost impossible to see the city until they were right on top of it.

Vlad and Beldin carried Cal along on a makeshift stretcher. He had suffered several crushed ribs from the encounter with the anaconda.  

“This is Cal’s village?” Ilmarė looked around.  “It’s a dump.”

All around them were ruined buildings, occupied by huts and tents that took advantage of the existing foundation.  Dril took out his rifle and kneeled behind a crumbling wall.

“What are you doing?” asked Vlad.

Dril didn’t say anything else.  He just cocked his rifle.

His target immediately became apparent.  A larger ss’ressen carrying an elaborate greataxe stood proudly before them.  Next to him was a small, wizened ss’ressen that blinked at them like a frog.  Six other ss’ressen fanned out with large clubs, spears, and tridents.

“Thepa sorr!” said the leader.

“If I see any of them raise a weapon,” said Dril. “That bootleather dies.”

“Thepa thit tosa sstresh,” said the smaller ss’ressen.  He held a gnarled staff from which two gourds dangled.

“I don’t suppose anyone speaks lizard,” said Vlad.  He looked to Ilmarė.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t speak the slave language!” she snapped back.  

“Nor do I,” said Bijoux.  “Cal only taught me a few words.”

“The big one’s getting closer…” Dril tracked the ss’ressen with his rifle.  

“Wait,” said Kham.  He put himself in the chieftain’s path.  “We’re friends!” He pointed at Cal, unconscious on the stretcher.  “What’s the word for ss’ressen?”

“Cal said it was thepa,” said Bijoux.

“We’re friends of thepa!” said Kham.  He held up the amulet of Yig.  “See?”

There was a collective gasp.  Then the ss’ressen lowered their weapons. After a moment, Dril lowered his rifle.

“Okay, we’re making progress.  Now if I could just remember the words for ‘Please give us food and shelter.’”

“I will try to wake him again.” Bijoux pulled something that looked suspiciously like an onion from her belt pouch.  

Vlad and Beldin lowered the stretcher.  Bijoux waved the onion in front of Cal’s nostrils.  

“Squeak!”

“I didn’t know Cal squeaked,” said Vlad.

“He doesn’t,” said Kham.  “That can only be…”

“Squeak!”

A tiny little humanoid snake crawled out of Cal’s loincloth to address the other ss’ressen. 

“Squeak!” it said.

The ss’ressen all began to bow low and chant one word over and over.

“I don’t believe this,” said Ilmarė.  “That little thing must have stowed away when we left Freeport.”

“And then hopped from me to Cal when we were in The Lizard’s Boat,” said Kham.  

“That’s not what worries me.”  Dril walked over to join his comrades, staring at the collective ss’ressen in disbelief.  More were joining them, creeping out from huts all over.  “It’s what they’re chanting.”

“What?” asked Vlad.

“Listen.”

Over and over, the ss’ressen chanted. “Yig!  Yig!  YIG!”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 4: The Ruined Temple*

They were taken to the front of a partially collapsed temple.  The sagging columns had been shored up with tree trunks and stacks of stones salvaged from other buildings. Both inside and out, the temple was covered with elaborate carvings of ssanu enjoying the blessings of Yig and supervising ss’ressen in the building of the city.

“This is Krisharr,” Cal put one hand on the shoulder of the squat ss’ressen.  “He is our shaman. He wishes us to meet Yig.”

“Yig? As in the god?” asked Ilmarė.

“I don’t know,” said Cal.  “But he is in the there.”  He pointed at the temple. Cal followed Krisharr in.

“I’m not going in there,” said Dril.  

Kham shrugged and followed after Cal.

At the far end of the temple was a high altar with a statue of Yig looming over it in the form of an immense hooded cobra.  The altar was heavily stained with blood and had clearly been used for sacrifice recently. In front of the altar stood a crude, stone-lined fire pit containing of ashes and burned bones.

The shadowy silhouette of a ssanu materialized out of the statue. 

“Hello Kham,” it whispered.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“Alissstar?” asked Kham.  “You get around, don’t you?”

“I wasss needed here,” said the ghostly ssanu.  “Before I took over the temple in Valosssa, I wasss the lassst priessst of Yig in thisss city. Thessse new children of Yig are not familiar with hisss waysss. I am merely here asss a witnesss to tessstify concerning Yig’sss light, ssso that through me all sss’resssen might believe.”

“So it was you who was calling me in those dreams,” said Cal. 

Alissstar nodded. “I am sssorry.  It ssseemsss I put you in a trance for longer than I anticipated.”

“But you are not Yig?” asked Cal.  

“I myssself am not the light; I come only as a witness,” said Alisstar.

“Then who are you?”

“I am the voice of one calling in the marsssh,” said Alissstar.  “Make ssstraight the way for Yig.” Alissstar pointed at the little creature hopping up and down on Cal’s shoulder.  “Thisss wasss he of whom I sssaid, ‘He who comesss after me hasss sssurpasssed me becaussse he wasss before me.”  

Kham slapped his forehead.  “That thing?  You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You, Calactyte,” said Alissstar, “are hisss firssst disssciple. You mussst protect thisss tribe ssso that we may raissse him in the waysss of Yig.”

“I will do as you ask,” said Cal. “But what of the child?”

The baby ssanu crawled the considerable distance down Cal’s shoulder onto the ground. He made his way to the statue of Yig and bowed low.

“He hasss nothing to fear in hisss mother’sss houssse,” said Alissstar.

Kham rolled his eyes. “Wait,” he said. “Yig’s a woman?”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 5: Tribal Huts*

They all stood around the remnants of a tower.  Though segregated from the ss’ressen, it provided a suitable resting place for Sebastian to finally meditate.  The others took time to clean themselves by the river and replenish their supplies with what foodstuffs they deemed edible by non-ss’ressen.

“Did you notice?” Bijoux whispered to Ilmarė.

“Yes,” replied the elorii.  “They all have sores on their bodies.  Disgusting creatures.”

The ss’ressen of Cal’s village all had strange, black buboes somewhere on their hides.  

Bijoux’s ears flattened.  “I think they are hurt.  In a way I cannot heal them.”

“That may be,” said Ilmarė.  “That’s what they get for rolling around in the muck and grime all day.”

“Cal says that there is a Cancerite who has taken over the eastern end of the acropolis,” said Bijoux.  “He lures people here to attack the ss’ressen, then he animates the corpses.”

“They’re strong enough to take on one Cancerite,” said Ilmarė.  “Even if he has an army of undead at his disposal.  Why don’t they attack them?”

“I’m not sure,” said Bijoux.

They were interrupted by a shout.  A warrior ss’ressen stumbled into the camp. 

“Sstresh!” shouted the warrior.

“He’s in trouble,” said Vlad.  “We should help.”

“I don’t like this,” said Dril.  “It could be a trap.”

Beldin grabbed his axe.  “You can stay here and cower all you want.  I’m going to help him.” He stumped over to the ss’ressen.

“Vethe!” shouted the chieftain from the other side of the clearing. “Yeshor kri’kla!”

“Kri’kla?” repeated Ilmarė.  “That’s what Cal called the anaconda. It means ‘lurker’.”

“Beldin!” shouted Sebastian.  “Step away from him!”

Beldin was too far away to understand.  “What?” He was looking at the wounded ss’ressen.  When the warrior turned, they could see that a massive buboe encompassed much of its head.

The ss’ressen shrieked and clutched its face.  Beldin stood back, uncertain what to do. 

With an ear-splitting scream, the ss’ressen’s body exploded in a shower of gore. 

Beldin was spattered with black ichor.  He wiped some of it off his beard.

Vlad grabbed his blade and shield. “So that’s what ss’ressen look like on the inside.”

“No it’s not.”  Dril picked up his rifle.

Beldin turned to look at them.  “I’m all right,” he said.

Behind him, the entrails of the ss’ressen’s corpse undulated.  Intestines shot out towards the dwarf, encircling his wrists.  An amalgamation of the ss’ressen’s head, one of its arms, and most of its digestive tract slurped and slithered along with an unholy life of its own.

There was a resounding BOOM!  The pustule of flesh, bone, and ichor splattered across the ruins.

Dril lowered his still-smoking rifle, satisfied that he’d gotten to kill some ss’ressen after all.

“I’ve seen this magic before,” said Sebastian. “If any of them come near the Cancerite’s camp, the wounds explode with necromantic energy.”

“How do you know that?” asked Bijoux.

“Because I’m from Canceri,” Sebastian said grimly.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 6a: The Lair of the Necromancer*

Cal picked his way through the ruins.  “You did not have to come,” he said to Dril.

The Altherian shook his head.  “I’m no friend to ss’ressen.  But what the Cancerite is doing to your people…” He shuddered. “I wouldn’t even do that to a dog.”

Excepting the wailing wind that occasionally swept through the ruins, they were otherwise silent. 

There was the sound of exploding earth in the distance.  It echoed around them in quick succession, one after the other.  The sound started to their left and moved in a circle around them.

“That’s not good.” A bass-pitched hum issued from Kham, eerily akin to many deep-pitched voices. The sound grew in a second from hardly noticeable to as loud as a strident shout.

Vlad jumped back from Kham.  “What the hell is that?”

Behind his lenses, Kham’s eyes burned with silver flame. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepish grin.  “As my powers get stronger it’s harder to suppress the side-effects.”

“Kham has the right idea,” said Sebastian. “Magis loricatus!” A shield shimmered around the dark-kin and then faded away.

Beldin shifted the grip on his axe.  “A fat lot of good it will do you.  There’s no enemy we can even deal with yet.”

“Vell,” shouted a pale man dressed in armor composed entirely of bleached bones.  He wore a horned helmet. “It looks like ve have visitors, Herbert.”

The creature the Cancerite addressed was hunched over, with a shovel in its hands.  Herbert’s mouth was sewn shut.  

“Tomas Hariot!” shouted Sebastian.  “Did you grow tired of being Vervain’s lapdog?”

“Ah, dat vould be Sebastian Arnyal, de freak,” sneered Tomas.  Two long-dead ogres flanked him.  “I vill have you know dat I am here on Lord Vervain’s business.”

“Uh, guys…” Kham had both of his pistols out.

Dril scanned the openings between the ruins with his rifle. “I see them.”

All around them, corpses in various states of decay shambled forward.  Some were rotten to the core, leaving only gleaming white bone.  Others still had leathery strips of flesh that hung off in great peeling sheets.  

“How did we not notice them before?” asked Bijoux.

“An old necromancer trick.”  Sebastian had his hands free, almost as if he were a gunslinger ready for a shootout.  “They were buried behind us. Tomas is a Magister Mortis.  He will be a formidable challenge.”

“That explains his armor, “ said Beldin.  “I’m not sure how he can cast spells with it on.”

“He uses blood in some of his spells,” said Sebastian.  “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Did you find my treasure map?” shouted Tomas.  “I’ve been using it to lure fools like you here to veaken the lizards.  Dey come seeking treasure and dey kill each other. As you can see,” more corpses encircled them, “I vin no matter vhat de outcome.”

Kham cursed.  “Well, so much for the treasure.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Sebastian.  “Tomas is here for a reason.  I bet it has something to do with the ruins.”

“I see dat you brought a fresh lizard vith you.  No matter, I vill send his corpse back as a reminder to de others.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Ilmarė loosed an arrow, sending it straight towards Tomas’ forehead.  “Don’t you ever shut up?”

The arrow bounced off a glowing field of chaotic, multicolored hues.  “Your aim stinks.”  Tomas chortled.  “But you vill find dis spell stinks far worse. Rancidus nebula!”

A nauseating bank of fog boiled up out of the ground as the corpses closed in.

“Ah, crap.” Kham started to gag.  “Not again!”


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 6b: The Lair of the Necromancer*

The horrible cloud reeked with sulfur.  Vlad and Sebastian were incapacitated, retching helplessly as the stench overcame them.

“Bijoux!” choked Sebastian.  “As we rehearsed!”

The fihali spread her arms wide and closed her eyes.  “Onara is displeased.” A deep purr emanated from Bijoux. “She will not tolerate your desecration, necromancer.”

The undead corpses flailed as the creepers and vines that had suffocated the crumbling masonry sprang to life.  Long-dead limbs were entwined; some of the dead were lifted up in the air like helpless marionettes.

Tomas sputtered in rage.  Half his army had been decimated in mere moments. “I’ll show you desecration! Atrum pampinea!”

Rubbery black tentacles sprang forth from the earth, entwining Ilmarė, Cal and Dril.  

Kham dove to the side as a tentacle sprung up and then flipped underneath another one that nearly decapitated him with a violent swipe.  He navigated through the briar patch of weeds and vines, sidestepping just in time to avoid a trapped skeleton’s swing.  

He landed on his feet.  Kham looked up, only to see a hunched man in gravedigger’s attire.  “Don’t tell me, you’re the lackey.”

Herbert’s arms were over his head, gripping a large shovel.  “Hnnnnh!”

Then the shovel came down on Kham and he didn’t see anything at all.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 6c: The Lair of the Necromancer*

Beldin spit bile out of his mouth and charged around the brambles.  Two large, very dead ogres stumped towards him with huge clubs in their hands.

“Come on!” shouted the dwarf with a feral grin.  “I know how to fight your kind!”

The first ogre slammed downwards, but Beldin rolled tightly in a ball to the side and came up next to its leg.  With a mighty swing, he nearly hewed the ogre’s foot off at the ankle.  A living ogre would have been fatally incapacitated.  But these were no living ogres.

The second one swung at Beldin, but it was too slow. Instead, it ended up smashing into the other ogre.  Beldin took the opportunity to roll out of the way.  

When he rose up, the dwarf hurled a throwing axe at the back of the head of the other ogre.  Again, it would normally have been a killing shot.  The ogre spun, Beldin’s axe still protruding from its head, and moaned in a feeble approximation of rage.

“I could use a little help!” shouted Beldin as the two ogres turned to face him.

There was a primal roar as Cal’s earflaps sprang up.  The tentacle strained and then was torn in half as he burst free from its confines.  

The ss’ressen turned to Dril, who met his gaze with eyes wide. 

Cal advanced on him. Dril’s arms were pinned.  He was helpless. 

Claws ripped into the tentacles.  With a mighty burst of black ichor, the tentacle squeezing Dril gave out.  It twitched wildly and then fell to the ground as Dril slipped out of its grip.

A long claw, dripping in black goo, pointed at Ilmarė.  “Help her,” said Cal.  “I’ve got work to do.”

Dril watched in disbelief as the enraged ss’ressen barreled straight towards Tomas, heedless of all the obstacles in between.  With a mighty swing of his tail, the remains of a wall were slapped out of the way. Two corpses moved to intercept, but Cal swept them aside with a slash from his two-handed axe.  A third looked up at him and moaned pathetically before Cal bit down on its head and worried the corpse like a dog with a bone.

It was all the second ogre could do to block the ball of reptilian rage’s axe with his club.  The force of the blow dug up furrows at the ogre’s feet.

“Better,” said Beldin.  He dove between the first ogre’s legs and hacked upwards, cleaving its hipbones in twain.  The dead ogre split apart at the seams, collapsing in a pile of dusty bones and leathery skin.

With another bellow, Cal hacked the head of the ogre clean off its shoulders.  It too collapsed into its component parts.

Beldin was too busy watching Cal’s feat of strength to notice Herbert creeping up behind him.  He caught a glimpse of a shovel whistling towards his head.  Then all was dark.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 6d: The Lair of the Necromancer*

Kham decided being six-feet under wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  Thanks to his ring, he was completely unhindered; by tentacles, by brambles, by dirt.  It gave him time to focus.

Kham concentrated as he was briefly slicked with a translucent, shimmering substance. His heart pounded with new energy as his entire metabolism sped up.  He was going to need it.

With a mighty leap, Kham launched himself out of the shallow grave, Fleshripper in both hands.  

Tomas’ back was to Kham, but as the val came down he stepped aside.  “You’re not dead?  Vell, let’s fix dat.” He pointed at Kham.  “Pavor!”

Kham felt a momentary wash of fear flow over him.  It passed as quickly as it had come.  “I’ve fought gods before,” said Kham.  “I’m not going to run away from a wuss like you.” He took another clumsy swing at Tomas.  

The necromancer stepped out of the reach of his blade. “You are really beginning to irritate me.  Terreo!” 

Kham felt another moment of panic for a split-second.  It was enough to make him miss Tomas with another swing, but it wore off immediately.

Tomas blinked.  “Let’s see how you react to de chill of de grave! Exanimus attingo!” The necromancer’s hand crackled with black energy.  He reached out to touch Kham…

But was stopped short by an invisible shield.  Kham swung Fleshripper in a wide arc, nicking Tomas’ armor.  A piece of bone chipped off of it.

“Damn it!  Vhat de hell are you?” Tomas pointed at Kham again. “Sopor!”

This time the spell took hold.  Kham blinked and fell to his knees.  Then he fell backwards, unconscious.

“Finally!”  Tomas whirled, aggravated.  “Dis is taking too long.  You minions are useless!  De only one I can rely on is Herbert.  So let’s find another use for you.”

He extended one hand, and one by one, the corpses who were entangled in Bijoux’s briar exploded into dust.  Black bolts of energy surged from the evaporated bodies into Tomas.  

“Much better.”  He flexed his hands with renewed strength.  “And now, Herbert, it’s time you cleaned up dis mess.”  He pointed at Herbert and a crackled bolt of necromancy flew into Tomas’ minion. 

The much smaller Herbert blocked the blow from Cal’s axe with ease.  The ss’ressen looked on in disbelief as the sewn-lipped henchman batted him aside with his shovel.  Cal collided with a piece of masonry that collapsed on top of him.

Vlad finally broke Ilmarė free of the last of the tentacles.  “Kham’s down!” She gasped for breath.  “But he’s not dead.  He’s asleep.”  Kham had collapsed right behind the necromancer. “If we can wake him…”

“Bijoux!” shouted Sebastian.  “You’ve got to summon something to wake Kham!”

The fihali, ears flat against her head, was balanced on one of the ruined walls. “Onara’s creatures shun this place. I have no magic that will…wait a minute.”  She reached into her belt pouch to pull out a small green snake.  “Espion.  I would ask for your help.”

The snake bobbed its head in response. 

“Go,” she said, dropping it to the ground.  “Find Kham and wake him.”

“That’s the best you can do?” said Dril in disbelief.  “You sent a snake to save us?”

“Yig works in mysterious ways,” she replied.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 6e: The Lair of the Necromancer*

Tomas pointed at the cluster of enemies in the distance.  “Acervus adfero vulna levis!”

A black blast of energy exploded around Cal, Vlad, Dril, Bijoux, and Ilmarė.  They fell to their knees as the necromancy sapped their vitality. 

Sebastian pointed two fingers at Herbert, who stumped towards the helpless Cal.  “Ustilo radius!” 

Two entwined rays of fire engulfed the undead servant.  “Hnnnnh!” said Herbert.  Then he fell into a smoldering heap.

“Nooo!” shrieked Tomas.  Beldin struggled out of the ground as Tomas raised one palm.  “You killed Herbert! You vill pay for dat vith your LIFE! Algor…” 

From across the field, Sebsatian knew he was doomed.  He had seen Tomas use that same spell on his enemies before.  A blast of ice would spew from his palm, flash-freezing anything in its path.  And the only thing in its path was a dark-kin with no magic left to protect him.

“…conus!” Beldin charged into Tomas’ line of sight just as the spell went off.  

It was as if Tomas held a snowstorm in the palm of his hand.  Ice and sleet blasted outwards, creating windswept icicles in Sebastian’s direction.   And yet, he was alive.

Tomas blinked down at a jagged blade that jutted from his ribcage.  Kham stood behind him.  The necromancer fell to the ground, dead.

But it was too late.  A frozen statue stood in front of Sebastian, shield up in front of him, axe at the ready.  He glistened in the sunlight, completely encrusted in ice.  

“Beldin!” Sebastian ran over to the dwarf.  The others gathered around him.  

Dril kneeled down to inspect Beldin’s body. He rose slowly and shook his head.  “I’m sorry,” he said to Sebastian. “No one could survive that.”

“He sacrificed his life to save mine,” said Sebastian, tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

Vlad put one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.  “It’s not too late,” he said softly. “We may still have a chance.”

“What?” asked Dril.

”Of course!” Sebastian hopped to his feet.  “Quickly, gather all the healing potions you can find.  We must administer them to Beldin.”

“He’s gone,” said Ilmarė.  “We must honor his death by accepting it.”

“You don’t understand!”  Sebastian wiped the back of one sleeve across his eyes.  “Beldin can come back!”

“How?” asked Dril.

“We must heal him before the day is out.  His soul is in his soul shard.  If we can heal his corpse before sunset…” Sebsatian patted himself down and pulled out one small vial.  “It’s not…” he poured it into Beldin’s mouth.  “It’s not enough.”

“The sun is setting…” said Vlad.

Sebastian looked around, pleadingly.  “Please.  We owe it to him.”

“He sacrificed his life to save my people.”  Cal tore a gourd off from the rope that acted as the belt for his loincloth.  “For that, I will be forever grateful.” He threw it at Beldin’s feet. Bijoux silently added another gourd from her own belt pouch. 

“He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”  Vlad dropped a vial at Beldin’s feet.

“What he said.”  Kham dropped what looked like a tiny wine bottle to the collection.

“I didn’t know him very well,” said Dril.  “But I saw enough to know that he’s a good man worth saving.”  He tossed a vial into the mix.

All eyes turned to Ilmarė.  She took a deep breath.  “When elorii die, our souls are reborn in the womb of another elorii.  Poor Beldin is trapped forever in this form. Here is my contribution.”  She placed a delicate vial in Sebastian’s open palms.  Then she closed his hands around it.  “May it find you both peace.”

“I hope this works,” said Vlad.

“It has to!” Sebastian bit his lip, overcome with emotion.  “Help me pours these vials into his mouth. We haven’t much time.”

Dril and Sebastian set to work removing administering the potions to Beldin as the fading light disappeared over the Sulfur Marsh.


----------



## talien

*Cut Throat's Gold - Part 7: Conclusion*

“You have returned!” said Krisharr.  “Asss wasss foretold by the prophecy!”

Cal returned to the village triumphantly, with Bijoux at his side.  The corpse of Tomas Hariot was slung over his shoulder.  

Next came Vlad and Dril, carrying sacks over their shoulders.

Kham sauntered by, along with the ever-graceful Ilmarė.  

Finally, two figures brought up the rear.  Sebastian helped a limping Beldin into the village.

“Squeak!” said the little ssanu, hopping up and down at the foot of the Yig temple. Krisharr stood next to him. 

Cal dropped the corpse of Tomas at the foot of the steps.  “I have killed the enemy.”  He bowed low.  “We are free of the Cancerite.”

A cheer went up around them.  Or rather, strange, sibilant hissing that the non-reptilians assumed was a reasonable substitution for applause.

“Rissse, champion,” said Krisharr.  “You and your companionsss have done well.  We have but one lassst tasssk.”

Dril and Vlad exchanged nervous glances.  They just wanted to go home.

“The parentsss mussst name our young sssanu.”

“Squeak!” replied the ssanu enthusiastically.

“Parents?” asked Dril. 

“Yesss.” Krisharr waved his staff towards Kham. “You are asss much a guardian as Calactyte.”

Kham pointed at himself.  “Me?  No way, I’m not…” he looked nervously over at Dril, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Do you not carry the amulet of Yig?” asked Krisharr.

“Well, yes, but—“

“It wasss foretold that he who carriesss the sssign of Yig would be rousssed from hisss ssstupor in a time of need by a ssserpent.  Did thisss not happen to you both?”

“Yes,” said Cal.  “I was attacked by a kri’kla while I slept.”

Kham bit his lip as he considered lying.  “Well, yes, something did bite me, but Hariot knocked me out—“

Bijoux’s tail flicked back and forth.  She made no comment.

“Then it isss sssettled.  You are hisss,” he said a word none of them could understand.  “Choossse a name.”

Cal straightened up.  “We have decided on Emric.”

“What?” asked Kham.  “But that’s…ah, forget it. Fine.”

Krisharr nodded.  “Emric it isss.  Bow before Emric, Chosssen One of Yig!”

The other ss’ressen kneeled in supplication, chanting “Emric” over and over.

“Squeak!” said Emric.

“I don’t believe this,” Dril said to Kham.  “Are you that thing’s parent now?”

Kham shrugged.  “Stranger things have happened.” He turned back to Krisharr.  “There’s someone I’d like you to speak with in Freeport, my home.  His name is K’Stallo.  You can communicate with him through Sulfurmarsh Sendings. Hariot was plundering your heritage, ancient Valossan secrets that he was going to give to the Cancerites. It’s more than we can possibly carry back. Ask Alissstar to translate whatever you find.  It’s high time we brought this tribe up to date.”

Krisharr nodded.  “We will alwaysss be in touch,” the squat ss’ressen said, nodding at the amulet Kham wore.  “Yig hasss great thingsss in ssstore for you.”

“That’s…great,” said Kham. “Well, I’m going to get out of Milandir.  I think we’ve spent enough time out of Freeport that things should have died down.  And I’d like to show this stuff to K’Stallo.”

“So you’re actually helping the scalebacks now?” asked Dril. 

“No,” said Kham slowly.  “I’m helping my friends.”  He smiled over at Beldin and Sebastian.  “They’re few and far between.”

“We will stay,” said Cal.  “Bijoux can help heal their wounds now that the Cancerite’s necromancy is no more.”

“What was that word Krisharr used to describe Kham?” Bijoux asked Cal.

“In Low Coryan it means ‘father’,” he replied.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” said Ilmarė.  “If Kham’s the father, then what does that make you?”

Cal grinned a crocodile’s grin.  “MOMMA’S COMING!”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 25: The Last Resort - Introduction*

This is one of a series of adventures in Tales of Freeport, "The Last Resort," written by Graeme Davis and (loosely) set in the Arcanis setting. It also includes elements from “Tatters of the King,” a Call of Cthulhu adventure written by Tim Wiseman. Finally, Three-Dragon Ante is an important part of this adventure. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

This adventure is actually a combination of two adventures, combining the prologue of Tatters of the King by Time Wiseman with The Last Resort.  It required some tweaking.

First, I had to get the PCs back to Freeport.  This commenced with a letter from Egil imploring Kham to return and act as a character witness on Lucius Roby’s behalf.  It turns out that Lucius’ brother, Grahame Roby, accused him of the murder of his father and sister.  Egil hopes Kham’s influence in Freeport can bail Lucius out from life in the Tombs.

As a result of Milton Drac’s death, the owners of the Pale Plate have finally had a turn of luck.  Drac hated them, knowing that they sometimes harbored Freeport dissidents.  When he died, the pressure was off and business boomed, such that the owners (Bobbin Brandydale and his brother, Edgar) decided to buy The Last Resort.  

As a favor to the Brandydales, Countess d’Amberville (a madam of the Salon du Masque) decides to generate some of her own business.  She proposes a masquerade at The Last Resort to kick off the grand opening of a new play debuting at the Freeport Opera House by Talbot Estus, titled “The Queen and the Stranger.” Since the play ends with a masquerade, and the Countess never takes off her mask, this seems fitting. 

To start with, the adventure is very much a character piece, so I wanted the characters to be memorable.  Rather than introduce a slew of NPCs that would be quickly forgotten, I decided to combine and replace several plots. 
Plot 1: Thralen Vodric val’Ossan and Emric Ossan-Drac have returned, in secret, to lay claim to the Sea Lord’s throne. These two replaced a King and his daughter from some random nation. 
Plot 2: Aljandros Haddon, who was last seen running for his life, moved to Freeport only to discover that his wife Imelda is having an affair with Thomas Rhymer at The Last Resort. 
Plot 3: Henry Tranco, the only named NPC to remain basically unaltered from the original adventure, is hosting a high-stakes game of Three-Dragon Ante as a favor to the Brandydales to attract rich clients.
Plot 4: Two rival cults of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign believe Egil to be the Chosen One, someone whom they must sacrifice at midnight.  Their lack of coordination shows just how badly disorganized the cult is with the loss of Milton Drac.
Plot 5: Speaking of Egil, we finally discover how he’s managed to pay the PCs up to this point.  Hint: He borrowed the money from the wrong people, and said people want it back…with interest.  Egil’s flat broke of course, so it’s up to the PCs (who technically were the beneficiaries of the money originally) to help him pay it back.
Plot 6: As proof of Emric’s claim to the throne, Thralen wears the Seal of Drac.  The ring is not easy to duplicate.  Little does he know that someone already knows he’s at The Last Resort and plans to steal it.
Plot 7: Captain Baldric, who happens to be staying at The Last Resort, is about to find out that Captain Wendron Krubach is not so forgiving about the theft of his treasure.  Even though he’s dead.
Plot 8: Edward, who took over captaining duties of the Shrike, got his hands on something from the Valossan city (where Calactyte lives) that he shouldn’t have. He plans to sell it. The cargo has other plans.
Whew! I get tired just writing about it.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Prologue*

The Shrike sat languidly on the docks of Sulfurmarsh as Kham reread the note that Egil had sent him. He had taken off his lenses in a rare unguarded moment, enjoying the glittering trail of the setting sun on the ocean’s surface. 

His pupiless eyes scanned Egil’s tight scrawl: “…a terrible incident occurred and Lucius’ father and sister were left murdered. His brother only recently arrived in Freeport and accused him of the murder, whereupon Lucius was committed to The Tombs… I know you are a friend of Lucius, as am I. Together, perhaps we can save him from certain death in The Tombs.”

“You must really be a good friend to Lucius,” said the dark-kin, Sebastian, over his shoulder.

Kham shrugged.  “I owe Egil a favor,” he said. “Besides, deep down, Lucius is a good kid.  I don’t believe he really killed anybody.”

Sebastian nodded.  “You’d be surprised what we’re all capable of, when pressed,” he said solemnly. “But I understand your loyalty,” he smiled distantly at his dwarven companion, who was busy trying not to get sick at the other end of the boat. “Good friends are hard to find.”

Kham put his green lenses back on. “So why are you going?” 

It was Sebastian’s turn to shrug.  “I have Shield business in Freeport.”

“Right,” said Kham.  “Forgot about that.  Well, you probably won’t see very much of me.  I’ve been away from Freeport for too long.  I’ve got my own business to take care of.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said with a smirk.  

“That doesn’t explain why the elf’s going.”  Kham nodded in the direction of Ilmarė, who stood wistfully at the front of the Shrike.  “She almost looks sad.”

“I think the elorii had to make a difficult choice,” said Sebastian.  “We have not heard from Quintus in some time.”

“Yeah, life’s tough,” said Kham. He patted Fleshripper, the bloodthirsty blade that never left his side.

Sebastian was about to say something when several men clambered up the gangplanks behind them.  He turned to watch Edward, the temporary captain of the Shrike, usher his crew up the gangplank. They were all winded and sweating.  

“Well it’s about time,” said Kham.

“We had some last minute cargo to stow,” said Edward in his usual monotone.  “We’ll be off in a few.”

“Good,” said Kham.  “We need to get to Freeport quickly.  A man’s life may depend on it.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 1a: Opening Night*

Ilmarė crossed her arms, aggravated. They were standing in line to see a play at the Freeport Opera House.  Judging from the fliers tacked up all over, it was titled “The Queen and the Stranger.”

“This play better be good,” she said.  “Kham said Egil was going to meet us outside here, but I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him.”

“Me neither,” Beldin looked around.  “Not that I could pick him out of the crowd.” The audience was drawn from all social classes, dressed in their best.  

“I know,” said Ilmarė.  “Humans all look the same to me too.”

Beldin frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” 

The doors finally open.  As they entered, Beldin and Ilmarė were handed a playbill along with a cast list.

The interior of the theater is gloomy, with illumination coming from lamps evenly set around the red-painted walls and from the foot lamps below the stage’s edge. The theater was less than half full—there are about a hundred people present.  

The elf and dwarf were ushered in, pressed by the expanding crowd.  Ilmarė’s eyes scanned the page.  

“Oh no,” she said.

“What?” asked Beldin.  He looked around, hand resting on the axe at his belt.

“Look at the cast list.”

Beldin stared at the piece of paper still in his hand.  It read: “The part of THE KING IN YELLOW will be played by MR. TALBOT ESTUS.”

“We’d better go.” Beldin stood up to move, but then the orchestra stuck up a tune, the curtains rose, and the audience could do nothing but watch.

In the first scene, Queen Cassilda discussed matters of succession with her three children: Uoht, Thale and Camilla.  The sons argued and complained to their mother, but Cassilda did not give them the attention they wished, and in the end she wearily sent them away.  

In the second scene, Cassilda read aloud from a scroll a report that named her city as Yhtill and her kingdom as Hastur and talked of an ongoing war against the Kingdom of Alar.  A child with jeweled fingers entered. It was unclear if the child was another of the queen’s sons, although he talked to her with familiarity and even bullied her.  They spoke of Carcosa, a wandering dream-like city which is a place of several unusual aspects: it appeared overnight, it is either on or beyond the waters below the palace, Hali; the towers of the city slip behind the moons at night and on seeing the city, one knows its name.  A fifth singularity, no one spoke of. 

In the third scene, the queen greeted a white masked stranger, who appeared indifferent to her status.  It was then that the stranger threw up his arms to reveal the Yellow sign painted on breast and sleeve. 

Behind them, someone screamed.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 1b: Opening Night*

“We should leave,” said Ilmarė.  She put her hand on the hilt of her thinblade.  “Now.”

“We can’t,” said Beldin.  “There’s too many humans in the way.” 

A couple of audience members appeared to have been overcome by mild hysterics and there was muffled sobbing from more.  One or two gentlemen were conversing rather loudly about the play in deprecating terms as though seeking support.  But many other audience members appeared to be spellbound.  

She snorted.  “So? We’d only have to kill a few to get out…” Before she could finish speaking, the curtains rose again.  

A masked ball was taking place on the palace balcony. The guests were finely dressed, intricately masked and they moved to music played by the house orchestra.  It took a moment to see the Stranger; he wore a bone white mask and moved stiffly and without gaiety. 

After awhile the revelers began to take off their masks.  Their eyes looked bright and their actions were extravagant, unrestrained.  The stranger kept his mask—rather, he wore no mask!  He grasped the Queen by the arm and she collapsed.  

Another figure appeared in tattered robes.

“The King in Yellow,” snarled Ilmarė.  

He was huge and he held a sword and a torch that emitted smoke but no light.  He talked with the Queen and the priest.  From asides amongst the revelers it was clear that all had seen the Sign, all must wear the mask—Yhtill had become Carcosa and they were no longer entirely human. 

The King disappeared.  Out of the crowd of fear-stricken guests ran the child.  He went to the Stranger, who himself had fallen to the ground, and took him by the hand to follow in the wake of the King.  The final lines of dialogue petered out somehow, distorted and lost.

The curtain fell and suddenly all was uproar. With the ending of the play, it was though a spell had been lifted.  

Two men rushed forward toward the curtain, where they were met by stagehands; three others turn on the audience.  

A woman scratched and clawed at Ilmarė.  Her elven thinblade was out in a flash, slicing a thin red trail across the woman’s arm.  Heedless of any injury, the woman leaped forward, pressing her heavier bulk against the much lighter elf.  

Beldin batted the insane woman aside with the flat of his axe. “I can’t hold them all off!” he shouted.  

Another man next to him bashed Beldin over the head with a bottle.  The bottle shattered with no effect on the hardheaded dwarf.  Beldin used the haft of his axe to smash the man in the gut.  He crumpled in a heap.

The Sea Lord’s Guard was already making their way through the crowd, beating people with clubs indiscriminately.  People turned from attacking each other to running and screaming.  What little order was left in the Opera House dissolved into utter chaos.

“The guard finally arrives on time for a change.” Ilmarė ducked the swing of a man’s cane.  She vaulted herself onto the chair of one of the opera house seats and then flipped over the frothing man.  She landed lightly on her feet…

Only to have one hand cuffed by a pair of manacles.  

“Hey!” she shouted, but two other guardsmen grabbed her roughly by the arms and slapped the other half of the manacles on her wrists.  

“Cor, we gots a wild one!”  Three guardsmen closed in on Beldin.  A fourth guard held the side of his bleeding head.

“I’d leave him be if I were you,” said Ilmarė.  “Solani dwarves are sworn to protect humans. If he wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead by now.”

“Izzat right?” said a particularly ugly guardsmen with a sneer.  “Well let’s see if the lil fuzzy stumper’s got any life in ‘em then?”

“What did you call me?” roared Beldin.

Ilmarė sighed.  “I told you not to do that.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort: Part 2: A Riot*

Kham caught sight of Egil gesturing at him from across the confused mob that spilled out into Freeport’s streets in front of the Opera House.

“Meet you at The Last Resort!” shouted Egil. Then he disappeared into the human morass. 

Kham crumpled up one of the posters advertising “The Queen and the Stranger.” He threw it over his shoulder.

Fortunately, Kham had enough foresight to call for the Sea Lord’s Guard before things got out of hand.  But it always paid to be cautious.  He downed a jumping potion as one guardsman dragged Ilmarė out in manacles. 

“She’s with me.”  Kham flashed the symbol of the Order of Drac, a medallion with a ship on it.

One of the guards squinted at Kham, then at the symbol, then at Kham again.  “You can have the bit ‘o fluff,” he said, shoving the elorii towards Kham.  “She’s a bit too cold for me tastes.”

Ilmarė glared over her shoulder. “You’ll pay for that, human.”

Two guards dragged an unconscious Beldin out, bleeding from gashes on their arms and legs.  It was a credit to Beldin’s restraint that none of them were dead. 

The guard who had arrested Ilmarė spun on his heel.  “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Kham inserted himself between the guardsmen and Ilmarė.  “Let him go, he’s with me too.”

One of the other guardsmen that held Beldin wiped blood off his chin.  “Oh yah?  I don’t care if he’s Milton bloody Drac, back from th’ dead and here t’save us all.  The stumper nicked me good.  He kin rot in the Tombs for all I care.”

Kham reached into his overcoat.  “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

There was the loud double retort of two pistols unloading their ammunition.  The guards to either side of Ilmarė’s assailant fell backwards.  

Ilmarė cocked her head and smiled at the remaining guard.  Then with a small hop, she moved the manacles to her front.  “I told you you’d pay for that.” 

The guard drew his sword, but Ilmarė caught it in the chains of her manacles.  With a twist, she whipped it away.  She kicked upwards, hard; heel connected with stubbled chin.  The guard went down.

More people screamed and yelled, adding to the confusion as guards tried to arrest everyone in sight.  At the sound of the pistols firing, all the guards turned on Kham.  They lifted crossbows and slowly advanced on him.

“By th’ order of the Sea Lord’s guard, yer under—“

Two more pistols were in Kham’s hands.  “’E’s gonna fire!” shouted one of the guards.

The retort of two pistols firing reverberated through Freeport’s streets and alleys.  And yet, none of the Sea Lord’s Guard were harmed.  When the smoke cleared, Kham was gone.

“Cor!” shouted one of the guards.  “Where’d e go?”

“Now’s our chance,” said Ilmarė to Beldin, who didn’t react because he had been beaten unconscious.  She grabbed Beldin by the feet.  “Let’s get out of here.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 3a: Conversing With Talbot Estus*

Drinks and food were laid out at The Last Resort for an opening night reception.  Bobbin Brandydale, the hotel’s owner, played the role of maitre d’ himself, seating guests and taking reservations.  

Bobbin greeted Kham warmly.  

“Bobbin? What are you doing here?” said Kham in disbelief.  “What happened to the Pale Plate?”

“I sold it!” Bobbin led them over to a table in the corner. “Milton Drac always suspected we were a haven for…” he looked at Ilmarė and Beldin, “dissidents. His men constantly hassled us.  When Drac died, business boomed.  Me and my brother Edgar threw our savings together and, well, here we are!”

“Wow,” said Kham.  “I’m glad things are working out for you. We just got out of the Freeport Opera House.”

“How was the play?”

“It was a real riot,” said Beldin, nursing his head.

“In that case, the first round is on the house.”  Bobbin waved over a serving wench with mugs of ale. “We’ve got a few events planned tonight,” said Bobbin.  “I think you know Henry Tranco, Kham?” Bobbin gestured towards a corner of inn, where a well-dressed, dark-haired man was shuffling cards.  “He’s hosting a high stakes game of Three-Dragon Ante.”

“I remember Tranco.” Kham squinted at Henry, who waved back at him.  

“The Countess d’Amberville is throwing an opening night reception for the cast of The Queen and the Stranger. I’m glad you enjoyed the play, The Last Resort’s fortunes rest on its success tonight.” 

“In that case you—“

Kham cut Ilmarė off.  “Thanks for the drinks Bobbin.  We’ll try to keep our spirits up and the noise down.”

Bobbin nodded, scurrying off to deal with more patrons.  

Kham watched Bobbin leave.  Then he turned back to Ilmarė. “I don’t have the heart to tell him. I’m sure nobody’ll show up anyway.”

“You’d better hope the Sea Lord’s Guard doesn’t show up,” said Ilmarė.  

“I doubt it,” said Kham.  “People shoot at the Guard every day.”

“But they don’t usually do it wearing the Order of Drac,” said Beldin.

“I’m not the only one who’s a member of the Order of Drac.”  Kham pointed at Beldin’s amulet.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” said Ilmarė.  “I have one of those amulets too, but I don’t go around flashing it to everybody.”

“Maybe you should,” Kham said with a smirk.  

Before long, the cast duly appeared, served by a procession of waiters and serving maids. They all wore extravagant masks.  

“Bobbin failed to mention that this is a masked ball,” said Ilmarė out of the corner of her mouth.

“Don’t look at me,” said Kham.  “Blame Egil, he told me to meet him here. Speaking of which, has anyone see Egil?”

Few people ate or drank much.  The atmosphere was awkward.  

Ilmarė sighed and got up from the table.

“Where are you going?” asked Beldin.

“To talk to the cast.” She donned a violet, feathery mask. “I want to meet the creator of this stirring drama.”

And with that, she stalked over to the cast table.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 3b: Conversing With Talbot Estus*

The party seemed to be already on its last legs when the writer of the play, Talbot Estus, appeared, wearing his own half-smiling, half-frowning mask.  

There was applause from his cast, which he accepted graciously.  He seemed oblivious to the subdued mood around him.

Talbot joined the table of masked actors, along with Ilmarė.  Talbot showed no signs of recognizing her presence.

“So you really didn’t notice the ruckus in the crowd?” she asked.

“Not all,” said the largest of the actors wearing a widely grinning mask. “We thought it was applause.”

“I must say,” Talbot interjected, “I deplore what happened after the performance, but it wasn’t a complete surprise.  Any work of art should seek to inspire fervor.”

“That was a little more than fervor,” said Ilmarė.  “People were nearly killed.”

“But let us not dwell on such things.”  Talbot stood up and addressed the room. “Let’s show the cast our appreciation!”

Polite applause broke out. Henry Tranco smiled and clapped along with the rest.  Kham and Beldin did not.

“Where did you come up with such an interesting play?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Funny you should ask!” said Talbot.  “I was inspired by The King in Yellow.  Have you heard of it?”

“I assume you mean the book, not the character,” said Ilmarė.  “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

“I purchased a copy off of the famous Coryan playwright, Livius Carbo.” Talbot spoke with rising excitement.” Legend has it that it was performed in front of an entire town; they rioted afterwards, burning the entire place to the ground.  Can you imagine such…” he searched for a word.

“Fervor?” asked Ilmarė. 

“Fervor, yes!” Talbot smiled at from beneath his mask.  “What‘s your name, by the by?”

“I prefer not to reveal my identity until the unmasking at midnight,” Ilmarė entwined her arm around Talbot’s.  “In the mean time, think of me as your greatest fan.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 4: A Gentle Reminder*

“There he is.” Kham pointed at Egil.  “Egil, come here!”

The young-looking, bearded brother of Althares looked around hesitantly and then wended his way around the tables to Kham and Beldin. 

“Where have you been?”

“Keep your voice down!” Egil snapped in a half-whisper.  He pulled up a chair.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  You got my note then.”

“Yes.”  Kham leaned across the table.  “But you seem to be missing something.”

Egil patted his robe down.  “Oh?”

Kham grabbed Egil’s hand by the wrist.  “A pinky!”  Egil’s pinky was wrapped in a bandage.  It was missing a piece above the knuckle. “What kind of trouble are you in, Egil?”

Egil gulped, hard.  “I had originally hoped to bring you to speak on behalf of Lucius, but…”

“Egil,” said Kham.  “What kind of trouble?”

“You recall how I paid you those past two times to investigate the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?”

Beldin leaned forward, intrigued.  “Yes?”

“Well, as you’ve pointed out before, the Brothers of Althares take a vow of poverty.”

Kham slapped his forehead. ”Egil, you didn’t.”

Egil rubbed the back of his head and nodded.

“What?” asked Beldin.

“He borrowed from a loan shark.  And if I know Freeport, my guess is he borrowed from the most powerful crime boss in town—“

“Finn val’Borda.”  Egil sighed. 

Kham leaned back in his chair.  “How much?”

He peered over his lenses to scan the room.

Egil gripped a napkin and twisted it nervously in his hands. “Well if you consider the interest, I paid you several thousand doubloons the last time…”

“How MUCH, Egil?’

“Ten thousand doubloons,” he whispered.

“Ten thousand gold!” shouted Beldin in surprise.  “I’m surprised Finn didn’t take your head!”

“Shhh!” hissed Egil.  “I know!  I’m lucky to be alive!  But I won’t be if I don’t return what I owe Finn.”  He clawed at Kham.  “Kham, you have to help me.  I don’t have that kind of money!  I really did take a vow of poverty! If I don’t pay him back by midnight, they’re going to kill me!”

“You don’t mess with Finn, Egil.” Kham shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!  I was desperate!  And in the end, I was right.”  Egil continued to twist the napkin like a hangman’s noose. “Freeport needs its heroes. They just had to have the right motivation.”

Kham sighed.  “Let’s go, Beldin.”

Beldin groggily rose to his feet.  “Where?”

Kham made his way towards Henry Tranco’s gaming table.  “We’re going to pay Finn back.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 5a: An Honest Game of Chance*

Henry Tranco was a handsome man, with a carefully trimmed beard.  His jet-black hair hung rakishly over one eye.  He shuffled the cards again as Kham sat at the table.

“So you’re joining me after all,” he said with a ready smile.  “Good to see you Kham.  It’s been too long.”

Kham grumbled as he sifted through his money pouch.  “Not long enough.  I lost something very valuable last time.”

“Oh that’s right,” said Henry.  “I remember now.  Well, no hard feelings.  I should warn you, this is a high stakes game.”

“I wouldn’t be playing if it weren’t,” said Kham.  “My companion here is Beldin Soulforge.”

“Good to see a Solani dwarf who knows his way around men and gold.” Henry shuffled the cards again. “Welcome to the game.”

Beldin grunted over his mug. 

Ilmarė sat down next to the dwarf with a huff.  “Idiots.”

“Welcome, Osalikene!” said Henry with a grin.  “I’ll take your comment as an assessment of the actors over there and not of my gaming companions.”

“Don’t be so sure,” muttered Kham.

The cheerful reception caught Ilmarė off guard.  She peered at Henry through her feathered mask.  Then she turned back to her companions. “The author of the play, Talbot Estus, is delusional.  He thinks all the madness is delightful.”

“That’s good news.” Henry shuffled the cards again.  “Talbot’s got money.  We’ve got one more seat at the table, so perhaps if you can get him to join us…”

Sebastian slid into the seat next to Ilmarė.  “I’m surprised to see you all here.”

“Where were you?” asked Beldin.

“Tracking down Lucius.  He is indeed locked in The Tombs,” said Sebastian. “We can’t get in to see him until tomorrow.”

“Since when do you care what happens to Lucius?” asked Kham.  

“Ah, a dark-kin.” Henry shuffled the cards again. “With a hint of Canceri accent. This is a regular table of nations.”

“Who are you?” asked Sebastian.

“Henry Tranco,” said the gambler with a smirk and slight incline of his head.  He began handing out cards.  “The game is Three-Dragon Ante.  Each chip is worth one hundred doubloons.  I take it you all know the rules?” They all nodded. “Good.  Then we’ll start.”

“I found something else out too,” Sebastian said to Kham. “Remember that cargo Edward was talking about?”

Henry flipped card after card to each of them. 

“Yeah?”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s big and heavy.  I trailed Edward to here. It took four men to bring it up to his room.”

“I thought Edward mentioned that he was meeting Captain Baldric here,” said Sebastian.  

“Sure he is,” said Kham.  “So Edward drags something out of Sulfurmarsh, ships it all the way to Freeport, and then brings it up into a room at The Last Resort.  What is it?”

“Whatever it is,” said Henry. “He’s probably planning to sell it.”

“And how do you know that?” asked Ilmarė.

“Because he’s a lifelong Freeporter,” said Kham.  “Everyone around here is either buying or selling something.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 5b: An Honest Game of Chance*

Kham considered his cards: two Gold Dragons, a weak Red Dragon, a Black Dragon, and the Thief. Winning the stakes outright looked unlikely. Better to play the two Gold Dragons and hope they could provide him with the third Gold to make a color flight. If that didn’t work, he could then finish with the Thief and at least come away with his ante. Decent odds.

“Hey Kham,” said Henry, “isn’t that Countess d’Amberville?”

The Countess presided over the Salon du Masque. She floated from table to table, charming the patrons and making sure her guests were satisfied with the fine liquors.

Kham didn’t look over his shoulder.  “Yep.”

Two heavy-set men in expensive-looking clothes entered the lobby.  They looked around and headed for Egil’s table, who was watching Henry’s game intently from afar.

“Didn’t you two have a thing going?”

The two thugs stood on either side of Egil’s chair, leaning over him, and a soft but clearly heated discussion took place. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tranco.” Kham drew another card.  It was a Red Dragon.  Damn.

After a couple of minutes, the men left, stopping at the door to cast a significant glance back at where Egil sat.  He watched them leave. 

“Who’s this Countess?” Beldin turned around to look.  “I don’t know how you can tell who anybody is.  They’re all wearing masks.”

Egil walked over to the table.

“The Countess is renowned for her quick wit, her seductive eyes, and her impeccable sense of style.”  Henry put down his flight.  It was a strength flight; all three dragons had a strength of five.  

The gambler tried not to smile as he stole five chips from the stakes and added two of the remaining ante cards from the center of the table to his hand. Of course, in the game, five chips meant five thousand Freeport doubloons. 

“She seems very interested in that human over there,” said Ilmarė.  She nodded in the direction of a man wearing a noble-looking mask.  

“He’s a curious fellow,” said Henry.  

“You don’t know who he is?” asked Ilmarė.  “You seem to think you know everything.”

“Quite the contrary, I don’t know very much about him at all.  He’s here with someone, as dinner’s been taken up to his room even while he’s down here.  I get the impression he’s recently arrived.  My guess is he’s nobility from the continent with something to hide.”

Kham looked over his lenses at Egil.  “Everybody’s got something to hide.” He looked back at Henry.  “Even you.”

“I’m going to go upstairs to my room.” Egil leaned closer to Kham. “Good luck,” he whispered. Kham waved him off. 

“I’m hurt.” Henry feigned sorrow poorly. “Your turn Kham. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Kham reluctantly put down the Thief.  

“Now who’s got something to hide?” Henry laughed.  “Well played.  You lost the gambit but you won the pot anyway. Between the two of us, we took all that the chips this round.”

Henry collected cards and deftly shuffled them again.  “Looks like you’re out, Sebastian.  Care to throw something into the pot instead?”

Sebastian reached into the folds of his robe and placed several scroll cases on the table.  “These magic scrolls are worth much.”

“Sure,” said Henry.  “Since you’re a friend of Kham, I’ll take your word for it.”  He smiled as he pushed a pile of chips towards Sebastian.

Somehow, it didn’t feel like Henry was doing him a favor.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 5c: An Honest Game of Chance*

“Someone has been loitering by the doors for some time now,” said Sebastian.

“If that’s an excuse to stop you from losing money,” said Kham, “then maybe you should take it.”

The dark-kin frowned over at him.  “I’m not tapped out yet.”

“You’re running out of things to cash in,” said Ilmarė. Several scroll cases and Beldin’s adamantium dagger were in the pot. “Perhaps you should quit while you’re ahead.”

Henry shuffled the cards again. “Your friend Edward has a new guest.” 

Kham glanced in Edward’s direction.  “Elijah Quelch,” he said with a sneer.

“You know him?” asked Ilmarė.

“Not personally.  He’s a rival of an antiques dealer I know.”

“Good man, Falthar,” said Henry.  “But Quelch…well there’s nothing Quelch won’t buy.”

“I’m becoming increasingly concerned about what Edward took on board the Shrike,” said Sebastian. 

Just then a blustery Altharian merchant and four hired thugs burst into the lobby.

“Aljandros?” Ilmarė said in surprise.  “Last I saw him, he was running for his life in Grand Coryan.”

“He looks mad,” said Beldin.

Aljandros made a beeline straight for Bobbin.

“I demand to know where mah wife ees!”

Bobbin put up both hands.  “Calm down, I’m sure if you tell me whom you’re looking for…”

“Mah wife!” shouted Aljandros, practically frothing.  “She ees here with her lover!  Where are you Imelda?  I’ll find that lousy cur!”

“That’d be Thomas Rhymer.”  Henry didn’t look at the scene as he began flipping cards to the other players.  “He went upstairs a few hours ago carrying a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses.”

Sebastian smoothed his robes. “This seems like as good an excuse as any to stop playing.” He nodded to Henry. “Thanks for the game.”

Henry chuckled.  “Just like a dark-kin.  Rob him blind and he’ll thank you for the privilege.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 6: A Secret Rendezvous*

Aljandros’ men started up the stairs to the second floor, muscling past the hotel’s guards.  

WHAM!

A door was busted open.  A woman screamed, but it was not Imelda.

“Oops, sorry!” Aljandros shouted into the room.

It was then that Sebastian noticed the whip.

“I really don’t think—“ he began, but the sound of another door being kicked open cut him off.

WHAM!

“AHHA!” shouted Aljandros.  

An attractive woman was half naked inside the room, covering herself with just a sheet.  The man whom Sebastian presumed was Thomas Rhymer was struggling into his pants.

The thugs knocked Rhymer down.  Aljandros cracked his whip.  Imelda screamed.

“Now wait a minute…” began Sebastian.

The thugs started kicking Rhymer.

“Hey, now, that’s enough…”

Aljandros was shouting at the top of his lungs.

“That’s it!” Sebastian extended one palm towards the room. “FUCO ASPERGO!”

A cone of coruscating colors washed over everyone in the room.  The thugs fell. Rhymer fell.  Imelda fell.  Only Aljandros stood, slack-jawed, arm raised in mid-whip.

“That’s better.” Sebastian dusted himself off.  “Now, as for you.” He pointed at Aljandros’ head. “Medicates privates!”

Aljandros’ eyes crossed to stare at Sebastian’s finger.  

“Better.  Now, as I was saying, I think you’re being ridiculous about this whole thing.”

“I’m being ridiculous about this whole thing,” parroted Aljandros.

“Maybe if you paid more attention to your wife, she wouldn’t be cheating on you.”

“Maybe if I paid more attention to Imelda, she wouldn’t cheat on me,” he repeated.

“So here’s what you’re going to do: You’re going to carry your wife out of here.  And then you’re going to love and cherish each other for the rest of your life.  Understood?”

Aljandros nodded.  He walked mechanically over to his wife’s unconscious body. Then he paused.

“Oh wait,” said the merchant.  He turned back to Rhymer.

“Aljandros…” said Sebastian, but the warning was unnecessary.

Aljandros yanked the man’s pants off and threw them out of the room.  “Now he can be as embarrassed as I was.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes.  “Just take your wife and go.”

Aljandros helped Imelda to her feet.  She groggily complied.  Sebastian followed them out of the room, leaving the four thugs to snore blissfully.

Ilmarė watched the whole scene from the bar.  “Where was he when the riot broke out?”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 7a: The Chosen One*

Kham stared intently at his hand.  He had the unique Bahamut card, the Dragon God.  Except that he couldn’t add Bahamut to his flight without losing the gambit.  The card specifically stated that as long as he had Bahamut and an evil dragon in his flight, he couldn’t win the gambit. All he had were evil dragons in his hand.  

On the other hand, the strength of the Bahamut card was too tempting to pass up: Bahamut had a strength of thirteen.  He was bound to be the highest with Bahamut in his flight!

Making a decision, Kham snapped the Bahamut card down.  

“A strong showing,” said Henry.  “With Bahamut and your Copper Dragon, you’re at a strength of twenty-three.”

Kham leaned back in his chair.  “Let’s see you beat that!”

Behind him, a half-naked Thomas Rhymer fled The Last Resort.  

Henry had a five strength flight with a Brass and Bronze Dragon.  The odds were low that he could beat Kham’s flight.  

With a slow smile, Henry snapped down a mortal card: The Druid. “Your turn.”

“Son of a BITCH!” shouted Kham, throwing his cards down.

“What?” asked Beldin. 

“The Druid card means the player with the weakest flight wins the gambit instead of the strongest.”  Henry raked the chips in the pot towards him. “Judging by our friend’s reaction, I gather he doesn’t have anything low enough to compete.”

Kham looked away in disgust.  “I think I’m done with this game.” He was ahead of where he was before, but not enough to pay Egil’s debt.

Ilmarė had already left to find Talbot.  Beldin reluctantly withdrew from the game when it was clear he was running out of money. 

“It’s all about the timing, Kham.  Tell your pretty elorii friend that she’s not welcome at my table anymore.” He grinned. “She nearly cleaned us all out.” 

“You’re a real charmer, Tranco.” Kham shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets. “I’m going upstairs to tell Egil the bad news.”

Henry started counting the chips.  “You might want to hurry.  Two pairs of men took a room on either side of Egil’s.”

Beldin picked up his axe and followed Kham upstairs.

Henry called over to the masked actors, all huddled around the table speaking conspiratorially amongst themselves.  “Can I interest you in a game of chance?”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 7b: The Chosen One*

Sebastian and Beldin entered Egil’s room.  Kham closed the door behind him.

“How did it go?” asked Egil, wringing his hands.

“No time for that now.”  Kham looked sideways at the door. “Listen, we have to get you out of this room.”

“Finn’s men are here already?” Egil couldn’t stop staring at the door. “I told them I would pay them at midnight!”

“Not Finn’s men,” said Sebastian. “Someone else.”

“There’s someone else?”

“Drink this.” Kham thrust a potion in front of Egil’s nose. “I’ll take you to another room.”

Egil hesitated.  “What is it?”

Sebastian and Beldin set about stuffing the pillow with sheets and pillows from Imelda Haddon’s room. After a bit of fussing, it looked as if Egil was sleeping in the bed with the sheets over his head.

“Just drink it.”

Egil did as he was told and swigged from the glass vial.  He promptly faded from sight.

“Now, you’re going to be real quiet.  We’re going to say goodbye to you, but you stick closely to me.  Got it?”

Egil nodded.  When he realized nobody could see him, he said, “Okay.”

“Here goes.”  Kham opened the door.  “Take care Egil.  See you tomorrow.”

“Bye Egil!” added Sebsatian.

“Take care Egil!” said Beldin, far too enthusiastic for Kham’s tastes.

They walked out of the room and over to another room on the other side of The Last Resort.

“Still with us?” asked Kham.

“Yes,” said Egil.  

They all turned to face where he probably was; judging from the direction of his voice, Egil had decided to move to cower in the far corner of the room.

“Good, stay here,” said Sebastian. “Don’t open the door unless it’s one of us.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Egil.

“We’re going to go ambush an ambush.”  Sebastian and Beldin left, closing the door behind them.

“And you Kham?”

Kham opened the window shutters. “I’m going to go visit an old friend.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 7c: The Chosen One*

Four men walked over to Egil’s former room.  Three stood in front of the door, masking the fourth as he fiddled with the door’s lock. They quickly entered the room and closed the door behind them.

A few seconds later, Sebastian knocked on the door.  “Egil, is everything okay in there?”

There was the sound of clothing being shredded over and over.  

“Sounds like a no,” said Sebastian.  “Beldin, if you please.”

Beldin lifted his axe and hacked at the door.  The doorknob splintered apart as the door swung open.

The four men had thrown back their cloaks, revealing bright purple robes with the yellow sign emblazoned on the front.  They each wielded a wavy-bladed dagger.  Judging by the feathers floating around the room, the cultists had plunged their daggers into the bed several times.

“The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.” Sebastian sighed.  “I hate those guys.”

“The Unspeakable One’s vengeance shall not be thwarted!” shouted a cultist.  “We shall sacrifice the Chosen One in his honor!”

“Wait,” said Beldin.  “You think Egil was the Chosen One?”

“Well, yeah,” said one of the cultists.

“The Unspeakable One’s vengeance shall not be thwarted!” shouted someone behind Sebastian.  “We shall sacrifice the Chosen One in his honor!”

Sebastian spun to see four other men with daggers raised, standing in the doorway behind him.  They too had thrown back their cloaks, revealing bright red robes with the yellow sign emblazoned on the front.

“And you are?” asked Sebastian. 

“The Brimstone Order, fool!” shouted one of the red-robed cultists.  He swung his dagger at Sebastian in a wide arc, who promptly ducked backwards.

“But I thought THEY were the Brothers of the Yellow Sign.”

“What?!” shouted the red-robed leader. He pointed at the purple-robed cultists. “Who are you?”

“We’re the King’s Players!” shouted the purple-robed leader.

“I don’t believe this,” said Sebastian.

The two groups entered the room, squaring off over the bed. 

“The Chosen One is ours to sacrifice!”

“No, he’s ours!”

“We saw him first!”

Sebastian and Beldin stood in the corner, temporarily forgotten.

“Well, the good news is that you obviously struck a blow to the Brotherhood,” Sebastian said to Beldin.  “They’re not very well-organized.”

“Wait a minute, this is goose feathers!” someone shouted. 

“That’s my cue.”  Beldin plunged into the red and purple mob with wild abandon.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 8a: News from Home*

“Tell me more about your works,” said Ilmarė, fluttering her eyes in faux interest.

Talbot, already well into his cups, continued to regale her.  “Oh, I’ve written quite a few romantic horrors.  There was _The Haunting of Agatha Mae_, about a young woman who is the only one that can see what happened to the previous owners of a country home.”

“Fascinating,” said Ilmarė. 

“Then there was _Evilroot_, about an eldest daughter possessed by the spirit of a Khitani princess whose tomb was uncovered by her archaeologist father.”

“This Yellow Sign…have you written anything else about it?”

“Oh, yes,” said Talbot, swaying a bit.  “I recently wrote _The Revenant King_.  It was a bit of a departure for me.  It included Cassilda, the Pallid Mask, and Hali.”

“I’m quite the performer myself you know.” Ilmarė stroked Talbot’s arm.  “I’d like to give you a private showing, if you’re interested.”

Talbot blinked.  “I’m always interested in new talent,” he said with a wicked grin. “I don’t have a room here, but…”

“Not to worry,” said Ilmarė.  She threw some coins at Bobbin, who promptly handed her a key.  “I’ve got one.”

“You’re very resourceful.  I like that in a woman.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Ilmarė, struggling to conceal the disdain in her voice.  “Tell me, do you have plans to write anything else involving The King in Yellow?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m working on a new book called _The Yellow Sign_.”

Ilmarė nearly stopped short.  “Well, here we are.” She opened the door.  

Talbot stumbled in and immediately began taking off his shirt.  The problem was that he forgot he was wearing a mask.  He only got one arm free before he realized his predicament.  Momentarily blinded and thoroughly drunk, Talbot decided to let his budding new actress help him get undressed.

There was the soft thud of the door closing.

“Hello?”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 8b: News from Home*

Kham hopped lightly from window to window.  He had to remember to thank Falthar for his excellent potions.

He was about to make the leap to Edward’s window when he saw another darkly garbed figure leaping from windowsill to windowsill ahead of him.

Incapable of resisting, Kham gave chase.

He landed on the sill without making a sound…and nearly fell out the window at the sight of of a looming, hawk-nosed face.  It was the nobleman’s mask Kham had seen before.

Inside, a snoring Thralen val’Ossan was asleep. Emric Ossan-Drac slumbered in a bed next to him. Between them stood the female assassin. 

Kham pulled two pistols from his overcoat.  He took careful aim…

The ensuing gunshots rattled the room.  The assassin spun as the pistol blasts strafed her.  Emric and Thralen bolted straight up out of their beds.  

“Get down!” shouted Kham as he reached for two more pistols.

“That’s two Kham,” the assassin whispered in a husky feminine voice.  “There won’t be a third time.”

One moment, she was crouched like a cat.  The next, she was a black blur, whistling past Kham so fast that he lost track of her.  

He looked out the window.  She landed without making a sound, two stories below, and disappeared into the alleyway.

“Oh no you don’t.” Kham clambered up onto the windowsill. “I’m not losing you twice!”

There was a horrible strangled sound behind him.

Kham turned back. “You okay Thralen?”

Thralen was hunched over Emric.  “It’s Emric!” 

The boy was gagging.  He clawed at his throat, his eyes tearing.

Kham turned back from the window.  He rifled through his jacket.  “Falthar always said this antidote would come in handy.”  He pulled out a dark green vial.  “Here.” Kham tossed it to Thralen.  

Thralen forced the liquid into Emric’s mouth.  Eventually, his convulsions subsided.

“Poison,” said Thralen.  “I thought no one knew we were here.”

Kham looked back at the window.  “That was Jesswin,” said Kham.  “If she was out to kill you, you’d be dead already.  I think she was planning to use Emric as a distraction.  She wasn’t after him.”

Thralen brushed away Emric’s matted hair out of his face.  His breathing was shallow but steady. “Then what was she after?”

“She was doing something with your hand…”

“The Ring of Drac!” Thralen gripped his ring finger.  “It’s still there.  Looks like you got here just in time.”

Kham coughed into one hand.  “It’s the least I can do after…well, after last time. But now you have to get out of here.” Kham dug through his pockets and offered Thralen two more vials.  “Drink these.  They’re invisibility potions.”

“Now?”

“Right now. Gather up your things.” 

Kham opened the door with his other hand.  Shouts of “fuco aspergo!” and “the Unspeakable One shall have his revenge!” reached his ears.

“There’s enough chaos outside to cover your exit.”

Thralen took the vials.  Then his hand gripped Kham’s.  It was, to Kham’s surprise, a handshake.

“Thank you Kham.  I know we’ve had our differences in the past.  You saved Emric’s life yet again.”

“You can pay me back by keeping him alive.” He flashed Thralen a smile.  “If there’s going to be a Sea Lord, I want it to be a Drac who owes me.” 

Thralen drank the potion and disappeared. “And what of you?”

“Me?  Believe it or not, I didn’t even know you were here.  I was going to break into someone else’s room when I came across someone with the same idea in mind.”

And with that, Kham leaped out the window.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 8c: News from Home*

Beldin was wiping his axe on one of the bed covers when two large orcs appeared in the doorframe. 

“Where’s Egil?” asked one of them.

“Not here,” said Sebastian.  “Something I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” said the first thug.  “Finn wants to speak to him.  Where is he?”

Sebastian watched Ilmarė enter a room with Talbot across the hall. 

“I’m not sure.”

“Listen,” said the other thug.  “Either you tell us where Egil is, or we decide you’re Egil and get the money that way.” He thwacked a fist into an open palm for emphasis.

Behind them, Ilmarė came back out of the room and closed the door behind her. She caught Sebastian’s eye and nodded to him.

Sebastian nodded back. “I understand,” he said to the orcs.  “It’s that room there,” he pointed at the room Ilmarė had just left.  “Egil said you wouldn’t be here until midnight.”

“We like to be efficient,” said the other thug with a fanged grin.

One of the thugs turned to go.  The other looked around.  Bloody sheets covered the bodies of eight dead Yellow Sign cultists.  “What the hell happened in here anyway?”

Beldin slapped one fist into an open palm.  “They owed us money,” he said.

The orcs quickly left.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 9a: Cultural Treasures*

Kham crept through the window to Edward’s room.  Edward was snoring peacefully next to a medium-sized sea chest and a large wooden crate. The man could sleep through Bahamut roaring, he decided.  It was probably from having to be on board a ship with the very boisterous Captain Baldric.

He padded into the room.  The crate was jimmied open.  Edward had revealed its contents, probably to a buyer.

Kham rapped lightly on the side of the crate with his knuckles.  “Cal?  Are you in there?”

There was no response.  Kham took a deep breath.  He was being paranoid.

He carefully lifted the lid off and, with no small effort, lowered it gently to the ground.  

Kham peered into the crate. Inside was a python-headed serpent with clawed humanoid arms.  It had smooth scales, marked with black and brown bands.  

“Definitely not Cal.”

Its arms were crossed in pharaoh-like fashion, one wielding a huge falchion, the other holding a bow.  Its bracelets were intricately carved.  They were easily worth a fortune.  Enough to pay off Egil’s debt…

Kham reached for it.  His skin barely brushed against the flesh of the mummy.

Almost instantly, there was a horrible tearing sound as the skin on Kham’s arm ripped off its moorings and crawled onto the mummy.  Blood and veins snaked of their own accord to nourish the withered corpse. 

Kham shrieked at the top of his lungs.  There was a wet snap as what was left of his arm pulled away from the thing. He fell backwards over Edward’s bed. 

Edward bolted upright, his nightcap flopping over one eye.  He blinked, turning to take in Kham, who was staring at his skinless, bloody arm in shock.

“What have you done!” shouted Edward.  “You touched it?  Why would you touch it?  You’ve doomed us all—“

Edward’s rant was cut short by a flash of metal.  His head tumbled forward as the creature slowly uncoiled, rising to its full height.  It loomed over Kham, who could do little but stare at it, agape.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 9b: Cultural Treasures*

Everyone was gathered in the center of The Last Resort, staring at the great clockwork face that clicked its way towards midnight.  

“Ten!” shouted the crowd.

“You think they’ll kill him?” asked Ilmarė.

“Nine!” shouted the crowd.

“If we’re lucky,” said Sebastian sourly.  “Talbot really said he was going to publish another book?”

“Eight!” shouted the crowd.

Ilmarė nodded.  “He’s bound and determined.  Talbot sees nothing wrong with the fact that people go crazy over his art.  In fact, I think he enjoys it.”

“Seven!” shouted the crowd.

“Where’s Kham?” asked Beldin.

“Six!” shouted the crowd.

“I have no idea,” said Sebastian.  “Last I heard, he was going to visit Edward’s room.”

“Five!” shouted the crowd.

“And Egil?” asked Ilmarė.

“Four!” shouted the crowd.

“Still huddled in his room,” said Sebastian. “The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign apparently thought he was The Chosen One.”

“Three!” shouted the crowd.

“There were two rival cults after the same target,” said Beldin.  “Seems the Brotherhood is very disorganized these days.”

“Two!” shouted the crowd.

“Aren’t all religions?” Ilmarė said with a sneer.

“One!” shouted the crowd.

People cheered as they lifted their masks and shouted at the top of their lungs.  Some guests tossed their masks into the air.  People hugged and kissed.  Henry was in the middle of finishing up his game of Three-Dragon Ante with the remaining actors.

Then a huge crate exploded through the doorframe.  Kham landed on top of Henry’s table, managing to not dislodge a single chip.  With another leap and trailing a lot of blood, he dove out the front door. 

The crowd cheered.  Then it stopped cheering when a ten-foot tall giant snake-man smashed through the railing overhead, landing in the middle of the floor.  It snaked after Kham.

“A samat, here?” Ilmarė shouted.

“Well, now we know what happened to Kham,” said Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 10a: Dirty Business*

Much to everyone’s surprise, Captain Baldric hobbled out of his room to survey the damage.

“Well, now that’s a sight ye don’t see e’ery day,” he said.

“Baldric.” Ilmarė climbed what was left of the steps to greet him.  “What are you doing here?”

“Checkin' in with me first mate, o' course,” said the crusty pirate captain turned politico. “But he nere showed.”

“Oh, he showed up.” Beldin tossed Edward’s head at Baldric’s feet.  “Just not all of him.”

“Edward was here earlier.” Sebastian watched the crowd slowly gather to look outside.  “We think he stole something from Sulfurmarsh and was trying to sell it in Freeport.”

“Judging by the damage,” said Ilmarė, “I’d say that something wasn’t too happy about being sold.” 

Baldric looked down at the gaping head that was Edward.  “Oh Edward, ye stupid fool. I trusted ye with me ship an' me men! Avast! This be what ye did with it.”

Kham came back in, soaking wet and panting.  He had wrapped his arm in a piece of his shredded shirt. Kham slowly slogged his way up the steps to join Baldric. 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised that you’re alive,” said Ilmarė.  

Kham uncorked a potion with his teeth and took a swig.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “That’s better. I managed to lose it in the docks.”

Ilmarė shook her head.  “If the samat was after you, you’d be dead already.  It wanted to escape.  We’re going to have to find it before it causes more trouble.”

“Sure,” said Kham.  “Later.”

Egil crept out of his room.  “Did you pay them then?”

“Not exactly,” said Sebastian.

“Pay who?” asked Baldric.

“It’s a long story.”  Kham peered into the gaping hole that had once been a doorway into Edward’s room.  “There’s Valossan artifacts in that sea chest.  A lot of them.”

“We'll sort it out in the m'rnin',” said Baldric.  “This old sea dog needs some rest. I'm goin' back t' bed.” Baldric hobbled back the way he came.

“So you don’t have the money?” asked Egil, his voice rising.

“I have seven thousand gold doubloons—“ said Kham.

“That’s not enough!” interrupted Egil.

“Calm down,” said Kham.  “I’m trying to think.”

“Wait,” Egil looked around.  “What happened to Finn’s men?”

Beldin coughed into one fist.

Egil crept closer to Sebastian and Beldin.  “What did you do to Finn’s men?”

“We sent them to talk to you,” said Sebastian.

“I didn’t talk to anybody!” said Egil.

“They sent them to talk to Talbot Estus,” said Ilmarė. “After the thugs beat him to a bloody pulp, they came back to Sebastian and Beldin and…”

Egil looked desperately from Sebastian to Beldin. “And? And? And what?!”

“We were forced to explain that we didn’t have the money,” said Sebastian.

“One of them called me a fuzzy stumper,” said Beldin.

Egil slumped to the ground, one hand on his forehead.  “That’s it.  It’s over. I am so dead.”

Kham was about to say something when a scream of pain and terror came from Baldric’s room.

“Doesn’t anyone actually sleep here?” asked Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 10b: Dirty Business*

Beldin smashed the door open to discover Captain Baldric pinned to the bed with his own cutlass.  A pulsing, transparent pirate hovered over him.
_
“Give me back me treasure!”_ it shouted.

“A pirate ghost.” Kham slapped his forehead.  

Baldric coughed up blood. He choked out, “Krubach…”

“Krubach?” said Ilmarė.  “Captain Wendron Krubach?”

Krubach turned to face her.  _“Ye!  Give me back me treasure!”_

“Oh great, he remembers me too,” said the elorii.

“Sorry, we haven’t met,” said Sebastian.  “Let me introduce myself: magicus telum!” 

Three darts of magical energy sliced into the apparition.  

Krubach howled in response. _“Ye’ll pay fer that!”  _

Beldin stepped forward.  “I know how to handle ghosts.” 

Krubach retaliated by drawing his own ghostly saber.  Beldin swung his axe, but it passed right through him.  When Krubach slashed downwards into Beldin’s flank, blood gushed from the wound. He staggered backwards.

“Me too,” said Kham.  His eyes glowed from beneath his lenses.

_“Give me back me treasure!” _Krubach shouted at Kham.

Kham poured the contents of a vial into his ammunition pouch.  “Don’t look at me, I want my own treasure back.”

Krubach swung his saber; it bounced off of a force field that shimmered in front of Kham’s face.

“I don’t suppose you know Black Dog?” Kham loaded a pistol. “He looked a lot like you.  Said the same lines even.”

Ilmarė sneered. “Only you thought he was an illusion.” She drew her bow and fired two arrows in quick succession.  One flew right through the spirit.  The other tore a rent in his form.  Krubach howled again.

Kham finished loading his other pistol. “Angry ghost, meet the ladies.” He took aim and fired.

Smoke filled the room. When it cleared, Krubach was gone.

Ilmarė yanked Baldric’s cutlass out of his shoulder.  He yelped. 

“He’ll live,” she said.

Kham holstered his pistols.  “Good.  I’ve got a business proposition for him.”


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 10c: Dirty Business*

Cleaning crews went from room to room. The damage was extensive: much of the second floor railing was destroyed.  Two rooms had burn marks from Sebastian’s magic.  Not to mention the blood, which was everywhere. The samat had left a trail of destruction and at least one body on its way out.  

“So this is him?” asked Sebastian.

Talbot Estus was tied to a chair.  

“Yes,” said Ilmarė.  “What are you planning to do to him?”

“I’m not sure.” Sebastian’s face was emotionless, but his dark eyes burned into Talbot. “We can’t let him go. Not after what he said.  We should have let the thugs kill him.”

“Torture won’t get you very far,” said Ilmarė.  “Hit him enough, and he’ll tell you anything.”

“I didn’t say I was planning to torture him,” said Sebastian.  “We need to be left alone.”

The elorii locked gazes with Sebastian for what seemed like an eternity.  “Okay,” was all she said.  Sebastian closed the door behind her. 

“Alone at last.” He slowly turned his head towards Talbot. “Now where were we?”

“I told you,” said Talbot.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m just a playwright trying to make a living!”

“You bought a play from Livius Carbo.  I was there when Carbo tested his play on thousands of people.  I saw what his ‘art’ did to them.  Innocent people suffered.  Children too.  They went mad. They massacred each other. An entire village was burned to the ground.”

Talbot’s eyebrows shot up.  “That’s what Livius told me.  I thought he was exaggerating!”

“Now it’s exaggeration?”  Sebastian sighed.  “You seemed proud of that before.”

“Well, I can’t help it if people are deeply affected by my talent.  That’s art, that’s—“

Sebastian slapped Talbot across the face.  “You killed people with your art.  Now, I’m not going to ask you again: where’s the book you bought from Carbo?”

Talbot spat blood.  “It’s in my right front pocket.  I carry it with me everywhere I go.  I’ve read it at least twenty times.”

Sebastian rifled through Talbot’s vest.  He procured two small books.   One was labeled The King in Yellow.  Sebastian flipped through the second book and his face went pale.

“Where did you get this other book?”

“I bought it,” said Talbot.  “Fascinating reading, really.”

Off in the distance, they could hear men talking loudly to each other as they cleaned up. They were moving from room to room.  They would come knocking soon.

“Your new project, what’s the name of it? “

Sebastian pulled out a knife from his belt.  Talbot watched the blade.

“The Yellow Sign,” said Talbot.  “I was inspired after the opening celebration of Milton’s Folly. It will be—“

“You must not write it.  To write that book is to spread the taint of the Unspeakable One’s madness.  You’ll kill more people.  Maybe thousands.  And you might inspire another playwright.”

“Then I’ve done my job,” said Talbot.  “Is it not the artist’s role to inspire?  And by so imitating, create a new form of art?”

Sebastian grabbed a chair, placed it in front of Talbot, and sat on it.

“You’re not listening to me.  You can’t write that book.”

“You’re not listening to ME.  I must write it.  Writing is my life.”

Sebastian stared into Talbot’s face.  “I don’t want to do this, Talbot.  You understand what you’re forcing me to do?”

Talbot said nothing.  He just stared back at Sebastian.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Ah, the old "conveniently leave the prisoner alone with a party member who has very situational ethics" tactic.


----------



## talien

Yeah, I was frankly shocked by what the player decided to do.  I started a gradual shift in his alignment as a result.  I took this particular incident to implement my own sanity rules -- and then watched those rules backfire.  I made Sebastian lose one point of Wisdom damage, and didn't realize one can go out and just pay a cleric to remove the penalty.  In fact, that precipitated me writing an article for Pyramid to make stat loss a bit more painful. 

And that was the last time I decided to just make up sanity rules on the fly.

I also used this incident as an opportunity to precipitate Sebastian's slow descent into a moral quagmire.  It's the beginning of when his alignment begins to drift. There will be a weird kind of synergy at the climax of this campaign, involving Sebastian, that brings him full circle regarding the King in Yellow and just how much of his humanity he's willing to sacrifice to stop the spread of the play.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 10d: Dirty Business*

The cleaning crew knocked on the door.  

Sebastian opened it.  “There’s another corpse in there,” he said.  He stiffly walked down to the bar and politely asked for a drink.  Bobbin gave it to him.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” asked Egil.

“It better,” said Kham.  He had carefully laid out all of his possessions on a table. The Last Resort was empty of all but a few.  “Lucky for you, Baldric was grateful enough to give me Edward’s stolen artifacts. Also lucky for you, Falthar agreed to spot me the money up front for them.  So now it’s time to deliver the goods in person.”

“In person?  But they’ll kill you!”

Kham shrugged.  “I don’t think so.  I think Finn’s a reasonable man.  So I’m going to try to be reasonable.”  He strapped on a belt purse full of coins.  “Just in case, I’m not going in with anything else of value.”

Egil sighed.  “Good luck.  If I don’t see you again, thank you for doing all this.”

“I owe you, Egil.  I owe you and Lucius big.  When I came to Freeport I didn’t know anybody.  You two were the only ones who were willing to give me a chance.”

“You sure you don’t want us to go with you?” Beldin twisted his axe in his grip. “I’m not afraid of crooks.”

“Nah,” said Kham.  “I need to do this alone.  It’s better off if you don’t get involved.”

“Be careful,” said Ilmarė.  That was about as much affection as she showed anyone. 

Kham slowly walked down the steps, savoring each moment.  The dawning sun was just peeking through the windows, shimmering across the docks.  Kham passed Bobbin, who was wringing his hands.  

Henry Tranco, still awake from the night before, dropped a jingling purse in front of Bobbin.  “Sorry about the mess,” was all he said as he walked out.

Kham cursed Tranco and stopped in front of Bobbin.  He looked down at the purse of coins.  It wasn’t small. He looked back at Bobbin.  

“The work’s going to be extensive,” said Bobbin. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for all this!”

Kham sighed. He dropped another purse of coins next to Tranco’s.   

“That’s another thousand doubloons I lost to Tranco,” he said.  Then he stepped out into the sunlight.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Part 10e: Dirty Business*

The Finn Syndicate headquarters was a large building in the center of the Eastern District, right on the Field of Honor.  

Kham expected enforcers to shove him down an alley, blindfolded.  Much to his surprise, he walked right through the double doors unmolested. A large sign read, “Undir Benevolent Association.”

Inside was a row of pillars and steps leading up.  The main pillared hallway continued to the left and a smaller hallway branched off to the right.  A sign indicated where the offices were.

Kham wasn’t sure if he was applying for an application or meeting with a crime boss.  He knocked on the door labeled “Finn.”

“Come in,” said a gravelly voice.

Kham pushed open the door.  Inside was a puffy, overweight val’Borda reading a document.  He took off his pince-nez.  “Kham, good to see you,” he said, as if he knew Kham all his life. “Come in.”

Kham took a few tentative steps inside.  

“Have a seat.”

He sat.  It was then that he noticed the two large men wearing chainmail and longswords flanking the door.

“You have come to me with a lot of money in your purse.”

Kham was sweating.  “Yes, Finn.  I wanted to make amends on Egil’s behalf.”

He took out the money pouches and placed them on the table.

Finn acted as if they weren’t even there.  “I like you Kham.  I know what you did for Freeport.  I think Milton Drac was a very bad man.  And this whole nonsense with the Yellow Sign; very bad for business, you understand.  Freeport is my home, and I don’t like to see it torn up like that.”

“I understand,” said Kham.

“That’s good, that’s good.  But we have rules here, you know, or else it’s chaos.  Complete chaos.  Although I’m not a lawman myself, I like to keep the peace.  And when someone fails to pay the debt they owe, I have to remind them of justice.  It keeps order.  You understand?”

“Yeah, Finn.”

“Good.  I like Egil.  He’s a good egg, that priest.  Brothers of Althares do nothing but good for this place.  Bring a little class to Freeport. So we only took his pinky.  I knew you would come through for him.”

“Uh, thanks, Finn.”

“But this conflict with my men…they got hurt doing their job.  If I let you get away with that, then I have difficulty getting more men.  You understand?”

Kham worried where this was going. He swallowed hard and nodded. 

“Come here,” said Finn. When Kham didn’t move, he waved him forward.  “Lean forward, I want to see that trinket around your neck.”

Kham mentally cursed himself.  He was so worried about bringing objects of value that he had forgotten the political value of the Order of Drac. He leaned forward.

Finn handled it with an open palm, flipping it this way and that.  “This symbol you have, it’s very powerful.  You flashed it around a few times.  I understand that.  Very bad business with that crazy play.  But then, you did something you should not have done.” 

Finn yanked hard.  The delicate chain snapped.  He handed the amulet to one of his thugs. 

“That is payment for what you did.  Now I want you to understand, this is unusual.  Those were orcs.  I don’t like them.  But I hire them to keep the peace.  They’re rebuilding the lighthouse in Freeport, and orc labor’s coming in by the boatloads every day.  Orcs are messy.  They have no respect for people.  They get violent too fast.  My men, they came too early to collect on Egil’s debt.  So I am going easy on you today.  You understand?”

Kham rubbed his neck. “I do.  Thank you.”

Finn leaned back in his chair.  Kham knew it was his cue to leave.  He got up and made for the door, struggling not to run for it.

“You’re a good kid, Kham val’Abebi. You keep your nose clean, you don’t shoot any more of the Sea Lord’s Guard, and you’ll go far.  Stay away from snakes. We’ll talk again soon.”

A chill ran up and down Kham’s spine.  “See you soon, Finn,” was all he managed to get out.


----------



## talien

*The Last Resort - Conclusion*

Kham finally returned to The Last Resort.  He was concerned that Fleshripper might make him do something rash, but its murderous urges were blessedly absent. 

Kham slumped into a chair with his other companions. Egil ran over to him.  He hadn’t left the resort since the night before. “Well?”

“The debt is repaid,” Kham said wearily.  “Finn won’t try to kill you.”

“Thank Althares!” shouted Egil.  He nearly sobbed and hug Kham tightly.  “Thank you!”

“All right, get off me,” said Kham.  “Bobbin, I need a drink.”

Bobbin hurried off to get him a drink.  They were surrounded by the sounds of hammering and sawing.  Men were already working hard to put things back in order.  

He did a double take.  The workers weren’t men; they were orcs.

Kham turned back to the others.  “Did you notice that…” he caught their dour expressions.  “Don’t look so happy to see me.”

Sebastian slid a book towards him.  “This was on Talbot’s person.” Kham picked it up.

It was a small book, six inches by four inches, with about one hundred pages.  It was bound in all-white cloth, with a blank cover and spine.  He opened it.

The title page gave the title, author’s initial’s, date, press, and a dedication.  The title was written in Milandisian: _Der Wanderer durch den See_.”

“The Walker by the Lake,” said Kham.  “So?”

“Look at the initials,” said Ilmarė.

“L.R.” said Kham.  “Oh wait, don’t tell me…in those four years, he published a book?”

“That’s right,” said Sebastian. “Lucius Roby published a book.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 26: The Madman*

This is one of a series of adventures in the Cthluhu campaign, Tatters of the King, "The Madman," written by Tim Wiseman. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This is the first of a series of primarily role-playing scenarios.  I mingled Black Sails Over Freeport with Tatters of the King, which makes for an interesting (if somewhat wacky) combination.  I had fun connecting the dots between the two campaigns and sprinkling it with Arcanis-isms, but the overarching plot is yet to be fully realized.  It will take another adventure or two to make it clear just what’s happening.

Ironically, the most important character wasn’t Egil, Lucius Roby, or even Alexander Halliwell.  It was Price, the Sea Lord Guardsman who was harassing Ilmarė from the last adventure.  In Tatters of the King, Price does nothing but “shift his weight” and act as a security blanket for PCs who might not be fond of visiting a crazy man in a confined cell.  But once the role-playing started I just rolled with it.  Before we knew it, Price was Ilmarė’s ticket in to the Sea Lord’s Guard…whether she liked it or not.

The other important part of this adventure is that Sebastian committed cold-blooded murder.  He’s begun having nightmares (nightmares just for him from Tatters of the King), and when he wakes up…well, you’ll see.


----------



## talien

*The Madman - Prologue*

Faces looked up, pooled and expectant.  Sebastian sat with the others, the violin pinched between chin and shoulder as he’d seen others do, his left hand on the strings.  The music started up and the orchestra crashed into its brief life.  

Sebastian sensed that something was horribly wrong.  The audience was applauding and calling out in the wrong places.  The other musicians seemed to be competing with each other, sounding their instruments randomly.

The conductor pointed at him. Sebastian glanced down at his music and there was the Yellow Sign—it writhed and squirmed and seemed ready to reach out at him.  He had to assuage it. Hastily, he started to play to its rhythm, building the sound note by note.

Sebastian was exultant.  Working furiously, he crouched forward, balanced on the edge of his chair.  He glimpsed the other members of the orchestra around him.  They were no longer human.

Creatures—still black—thin and strong, with wings and long heads, rows of long teeth.  Sebastian’s fingers touched his palms; his instrument was gone. 

He was sitting on the edge of a round hole—he couldn’t see the bottom—and there were things falling down into it.  One by one the creatures, his neighbors, dove in—they spread their wings out, and glided down.  

The conductor had changed.  It was Talbot Estus, wearing tattered white robes that drifted in a wind that wasn’t there.  He turned and pointed to Sebastian.  Without a thought, he jumped.

Down, down.  He counted the seconds he had left.  And in a brief, insane moment, it was the only act that ever mattered in his life.

Sebatian woke up, drenched in sweat.  Egil was standing his doorway.

“Are you all…” Egil began, but then stopped.  His eyes were wide. “I…I heard a scream.” Egil looked away.

Sebastian took a few deep breaths and looked around.  He was in the Temple of Althares.  He had sought solace there to gather his thoughts and meditate, like he once did in Solanos Mor.  Sebastian’s infernal heritage always haunted him, sometimes filling him with such murderous rage that it terrified even him. 

But this was different.  Egil refused to look at him. Sebastian had hoped that he could cleanse himself of the taint of murder, of the insanity that was The King in Yellow. 

Something rustled at his back.  And at that moment Sebastian realized how wrong he was.


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Part 1 – Interview With Egil*

The Temple of Althares was an impressive structure, its vaulted frame soaring up one hundred feet. Large bronze doors stood open, revealing a tiled atrium. Statues of Althares indicated that the chamber was the center of worship, but balconies lined with books reach all the way to the frescoed ceiling. It was as much library as temple, and the rows of silent scholars working in the balconies attested to that fact.

Egil was waiting for Kham and his companions in a separate room, which was empty enough to offer privacy. He was solicitous of their comfort and made small talk about the weather before the tea he ordered arrived.  Then he broached the subject at hand.

“Thank you for coming.  I know it’s been a rough week.”

Kham ran one hand through his hair.  “No problem, Egil.” If it weren’t for the priests of Althares, he wouldn’t have a hand at all.  

“We all owe you a debt,” said Beldin, stroking his beard.  He seemed vigorous again.  After the spiritual sacrificed he made in the Temple of Yig, the dwarf always looked drawn and haggard.  Thanks to the Altharian priests ministrations, he was feeling like his old self.

“I’m happy to let you work any way you deem effective, as long as the privacy of the matter and the good name of the Temple of Althares is maintained.”  

Ilmarė looked around.  “Our connection to the Temple is well-known,” she said with a sneer.  “I doubt the good name of your priesthood can sink any—“

“We’ll be discreet,” Kham interjected, cutting the elorii off.  “As much as we ever can be.”

Egil nodded. “Kham, I know you once knew Lucius.”

Lucius was Kham’s connection to Egil.  Though the two were never close friends, they grew up in the same town in Coryan.  It was Lucius who provided the common link between Kham and Egil, and it was Lucius who convinced Egil to take Kham in, so many years ago.

“Since his incarceration, Lucius has suffered from night terrors, but I’m encouraged by his progress.  I see no evidence of untreatable long-term insanity in Lucius; the brief and predictably spaced attacks have been controlled by strong sleeping drafts.  Thanks to my influence, I have managed to get Lucius a stay of execution, but his retirement to The Tombs is due for review.”

Egil paused, obviously concerned.  

“Judge Shamus McGowan will decide whether to release Lucius or keep him in The Tombs, but he is uneasy on one point.  It concerns the stance of Lucius’ family.  All communication on the case has been with Corinalous val’Abebi.”

Kham blinked.  “My dad?”

Egil nodded. “Corinalous has been urging me by letter over the past month to keep Lucius committed.  My sense is that Lucius’ brother, Grahame Roby, is leaning upon Judge McGowan to confine Lucius to The Hulks, but he will not speak directly about it. I’d like to know why he opposes Lucius’ release. “

“You mean besides the fact that Lucius killed his father and sister?” Ilmarė inspected her fingernails, bored already.

“That’s not been proven,” said Egil.  He took a sip of his tea. “Would you intervene to hear Corinalous’ views? Unfortunately, Corinalous and I seem to have retreated into entrenched positions; perhaps your influence could move things.  Also, I’d like you to speak with Lucius.  I’m anxious to learn more about Lucius’ character while at liberty.  Judge McGowan has agreed to reassess his own position in light of any new information, but I’m hopeful we can get Lucius released into the Temple’s care.”

Kham flexed his restored arm.  “We’ll do it.”

“We will?” asked Vlad.  “But how much are we going to get…”

Kham shrugged.  “Fine, I’ll do it alone then.”

“Now wait a minute…” began Vlad.

“Where’s Sebastian?” asked Beldin.

Egil stopped in mid-sip.  “He will be along.  I will pass a message on for him to meet you when he is done with his…meditation.”

Kham shrugged on his overcoat.  “Speaking of notes, I think it’s time I sent a sending to pop.”

“You never mentioned your dad,” said Vlad.

“Yes,” said Kham.  “We don’t talk much, not since I joined the moved to Freeport. But now seems like as a good as any.” 

Kham fidgeted with the emerald on his collar for a moment; it seemed as if he were going to say something else.  Then he walked out of the room.

“What’s his problem?” asked Ilmarė.

“Families can be a touchy subject,” said Beldin. “I’ve learned that from being around Sebastian.”

“Stupid humans,” muttered Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Part 2 – Preparing for the Interview*

The Fortress of Justice was the main headquarters for the Sea Lord’s Guard, located in the Old City.  The Fortress consisted of three separate buildings surrounded by a tall stone wall.  The top of the wall was tipped with spikes, covered with pointed barbs. 

Entrance into the Fortress of Justice was through the main gate, located on Mollusk Street.  It was the only entrance and exit to the compound.  Two thirty-foot tall towers flanked the gate.  Kham stood before a portcullis.

The gate swarmed with relatives of the prisoners, as well as curiosity seekers, preachers, petitioners and protesters.  Each and every one of them was screaming to get inside.  

“No word?” Vlad shouted to Kham over the din.  

“None,” said Kham.  “But then, pop doesn’t always receive messages.  It can take time before I hear anything.” 

“It doesn’t look like we’re getting inside,” said Ilmarė. 

Kham waved at a guard.  After a few minutes of shouting and gesturing, a gap-toothed guardsman shoved his way over to him.  He was tall, with one lazy eye, a hooked nose, and a few days of stubble.  

“Blimey! What 'ave we 'ere then? Look there, it's da bi' ov fluff what kicked me befawer. Couldn't keep away from me, could yew love? Know what I mean?”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Of all the guardsmen in the world, it had to be this guy.”

Her comment sent off a snickering fit amongst the guards.

“Aw, don’t be like that!” The guard puckered up.  “Give me a kiss an' I'll let yew in.”

Ilmarė reached for her thinblade.

Kham put one hand on her shoulder.  “Maybe we can use this to our advantage.  Try, you know…being nice.”

Ilmarė glared sideways at the val.  “I don’t do nice.”

“Try.”

The elorii turned back to the guard.  “Look.  I’ve got this.”  She held up the symbol of the Order of Drac. It was a medallion with a ship on it.  “So why don’t you be useful and let us in.”

The guard squinted at the medallion.  “Now why didn't yew say so? Anythin' fer yew love!”

Polearms were thrust through the gate, forcing the crowd backward.  The portcullis was slowly winched upwards, enough to allow them entrance.  The crowd shouted angrily, but the thicket of polearms kept them at bay.  

“That’s the Courts,” said Kham.  He pointed to an official-looking building. Guardsman stood at the entrance. 

The prison guards gaze sullenly at them as they made their way to the Courts.  

“Who yew lookin’ for?” asked the guard.

“You’re still here?” asked Ilmarė.  “Don’t you have something better to you?”

The guard grinned a gap-toothed grin.  “Not a chance, love. You’re my responsibili'y while you’re in 'ere. I wouldn’t wan' anythin' awful ter 'appen ter you. Not unless yew asked first, anyway.”

The guard led them to Judge McGowan’s office.  

Judge McGowan had brown hair with a trimmed beard and rather bushy eyebrows.  His table was elevated, such that they had to crane their necks to look up at him.  

“Egil sent us to interview Lucius,” said Kham matter-of-factly.  He kept his hands thrust in his pockets.

McGowan sipped at some tea as he looked them over.

“I won’t be attending the interview with Lucius today,” he said in a nasal drone.  “I think it will be more fruitful if he sees people he can trust. However, I would like to get a transcription of Lucius’ interview, so my secretary, Mr. Reeves, will be present to take shorthand.”

A thin, pinched man with steepled fingers stepped out from behind the desk. 

McGowan paused.  

“There are a couple of points of procedure to observe: Although Lucius is not dangerous, no sharp objects or writing utensils should be carried in.  In addition, there will be a guard, Price, present in the cell with you at all times.”

Price waved enthusiastically from the doorway.  Ilmarė slapped her forehead.

“Lucius should not be given any news of the outside world.  I should warn you that he might say little and what Lucius does say may be irrelevant to what was asked.  He has had little contact with others here at The Tombs.”

“Right,” said Kham.  Price led them out of the room.

“Why no writing utensils?” asked Ilmarė.  “Are they afraid he’ll write a nasty letter to the Captain’s Council?”

“Let’s hope it’s not another budding playwright,” said Beldin.


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Part 3 – Interview With Lucius Roby*

The main prison in Freeport was located inside the compound and was known throughout the city as The Tombs. The building was made from solid brick.  There was a main floor above ground, with bars on all the windows, and reinforced walls that were three-feet thick.  The roof of the building was shaped like a massive and foreboding ziggurat.  

Inside, a guard stopped in his business and, staring at Kham, started to ask Price a question.  

“Not now, Evans.”  Price kept walking, leaving the man looking at their backs. 

The prison cells were all located two floors underground.  There were sixty cells on each floor, approximately eight feet by six feet, built to hold up to three prisoners, though several held more.  The walls of the cells were constructed of large, stone blocks.  

The sound of footsteps and muted sobbing echoed back off bare stone corridors as Price led them to Lucius’ cell.  He unlocked it and ushered them in.

Lucius was dressed in a white canvas tunic and trousers.  The room was tiny, dim, and chilly.  There was a bed, table, and two chairs, and no possessions except for a stack of a dozen or so books on the table.  A barred window gave a view of the sky.

When they first entered, Lucius looked up.

“Delia?” he asks.

“Who’s Delia?” asked Kham.

Lucius didn’t respond.  He was hunched over, looking at his lap. 

Beldin took the time to scan the titles.  “Hmmph,” said Beldin.  “Never heard of these.”

“They’re poetry,” said Ilmarė.  “You should pick up a book some time.”

“Being locked in this room is inconvenient,” said Lucius.  His manner of speech was odd; the cadence was slow and irregular. “It means I cannot finish my work and so I cannot go where I would like to go.” 

“Go where?” asked Vlad. 

Lucius paused. 

“You know, few writers have the ability to write honestly. Truths are used for entertainment only and that is a strange concept: it barely grazes what is of import. Such a writer is like a man whose only concern is to hide his ignorance, willful misrepresentation, a shut mind, closed eyes, a tight mouth, and balled fists. It’s not enough to have the ability, bring your intellect to bear like a light in the darkness, like a sane man in a world of madmen.”

He smiled ruefully to himself and was quiet.

Kham edged closer to Lucius.  “Lucius, you wrote a book.  A book you published.  Something about a Walker by the Lake?”

The room became quite silent. Lucius tensed up, a feeling that somehow transmitted to the entire room.  Even Price shifted his position by the door.  

Lucius started talking loudly, not leaving room for replies. “Have you been down by the lake and seen the beauty and felt the rightness of it all? Have you seen the pallid mask? Edwards said to work only with him. Are you with Livius?” He looked around, blinking in confusion. “Why are they not here? Is it this year, once in five thousand years?” He started shouting. “Has Livius brought the King in Yellow? Is he already amongst us?”

Kham put both hands up.  “Easy, Lucius, easy.”

“Have you seen the Yellow Sign?” whispered Lucius.

“More than once,” said Ilmarė.

“What Edwards and I are doing now harms no one,” Lucius said in a monotone, without feeling. “But I have been worrying about Livius Carbo and the conversations we had. Despite what Edwards might think, I believe Livius is right. The King in Yellow has called himself the White Acolyte.”

“That’s a new one,” said Vlad.  

Lucius stared at Vlad. “I don’t think he will stay away. So here is a kindness I would like you to pass on to him for when he sees that the King does not offer him what he hopes. To divert the King’s attention away from Arcanis and back upon the dream city, he must think of Cassilda’s song:
_
The stars that burn their charcoal death
Shrink back, they feel the hoary breath
Of he who ransoms great Carcosa
He flees where queen and prophet meet
Where twin suns fall but never set
Escapes the tomb of lost Carcosa._”

Ilmarė bit her lip.  She stepped out of Lucius’ cell.  Vlad followed her. 

“What?” asked Vlad.

“Yet another amazing coincidence,” said Ilmarė.

Beldin joined them.  He locked gazes with her.  “I know, I heard it too.”

“Heard what?” asked Vlad.

“That song,” said Ilmarė.  “If Lucius hasn’t received any news of the outside world…”

“Then how did he quote the exact lyrics from Talbot’s play?” finished Beldin.


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Part 4 – Interview With Alexander Halliwell*

“Blimey!” said Price. “Yew think that's good, yew should talk ter 'is neighbor.”

“His neighbor?” asked Kham.

“He's crazy, it's true. But then, I can never tell who's behind bars because they're crazy, us awer 'em. For instance, earlier dis year we 'ad a murder. That's right, Cuthbert Yates. Good fellow, I used ter play Three-Dragon Ante wiv 'im every week. He was seein' ter da needs ov Alexander Harriwell when da murder 'appened.”

“In the cell next to Lucius?”

Price nodded.  “Yah. And if you’re real nice ter me, I might be able ter swin' an in'erview wiv 'im fer you.”  He fluttered his eyes at Ilmarė.

“I’m sure Ilmarė would be very grateful.”  Kham leaned forward to whisper in Price’s ear.  The guard’s eyes widened.  He looked at Ilmarė and licked his lips.  

“Done then.”  Price fumbled with the keys to Alexander’s cell and opened it.

Ilmarė glanced sideways at Kham.  “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” said Kham. 

Although Alexander was straight jacketed, Price accompanied them into his cell.

Alexander was fat-faced and powerfully, if flabbily, built.  He was almost bald, and the remainder of his hair was close-cropped and white.  Although he was always grinning, there was fear, not mirth, in his expression.  

“Go on, Hariwell. Tell da nice people what yew saw when Yates died.”

Alexander described what he saw in extensive, gory detail. “The murder was performed by the devil,” he said in a giggly, high-pitched voice.  “He ran red with blood.  His own gaping wounds would have weakened and killed any man!  His hands were blades, and he slashed himself, then the other man.” Alexander jerked his body this way and that. “One! Two! One! Two!” Only the other fell.  He laughed all the while and he did other things.  I was far too frightened to make out the face of the devil, but devils have many faces.”

When they were back outside of his cell, Price smirked at them.  “Told yew ‘e was barmy.”

“And they blamed the murder on Harriwell?”

“The murder scene 'ad enuff blood spilled there ter 'ave killed two men,” said Price. “An' what there were two blood types present. Two kitchen knives were found in da cell, an' a blood-soaked an' slashed guard’s unifawm was found in da laundry. Harriwell was covered in blood, but none ov i' was 'is.”

“How did he get out?” asked Kham. 

“Nobody knows,” said Price. “The door ter Harriwell’s cell was unlocked. All The Tombs staff were examined an' found not ter be wounded. There doesn’t seem ter 'ave been a motive fer Yates’ dearf.” Price sighed. “Harriwell must 'ave been responsible an' da second victim must 'ave left da scene.” 

“Uh huh,” said Kham.  His eyes darted about nervously. “And I killed Milton Drac.”

Price laughed out loud.  He clapped Kham on the shoulder. “That’s a good one!”

“At this point, I think I agree with Lucius’ brother and your father,” said Ilmarė.  “If Lucius is writing sonnets from The King in Yellow, I think we should let the human rot here.”

“There’s more to this than we’re hearing,” said Kham. “But let’s get out of here. Prisons make me nervous.” 

“Why?” asked Beldin.  “The construction isn’t too bad.  The stone blocks are solid, cemented together nicely…”

It was Ilmarė’s turn to smirk. “Kham has an arrest record.”

Price squinted at Kham.  “I thought yew looked familiar!”


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Part 5 – A Dream Vision*

Kham was walking along a busy street in a city.  It was night.  He was in a hurry, but there were many other pedestrians about who slowed his progress.  

Despite his haste, every twenty yards or so Kham was compelled to stop and check that he had his key with him.  He pulled it out of an inside pocket of his jacket—it was a large corroded old-fashioned key on a very long loop of string—then thrust it back in.  

Once, Kham hung it over his arm like a satchel, but he decided it was safer in his pocket and put it back in there.  Then, as he took it out one more time, instead of the key he was looking at a small-human-like figure, a fetish lying there in his hand.  It was grotesque.  There was something else—a sweet, fetid smell on the air, like rotting fruit.

Kham looked up, disturbed, and the city was gone to be replaced by a flat landscape punctuated by mounds and hillocks and a few stunted trees.  He stood with the others.  

There was a pressure building as though a storm was in the air.  Kham sensed water nearby and the wind blew the smell to him.  It was still dark, but he could just make out and count nine shapes, standing stones, placed around him. 

First the quality of the air changed, then the ground beneath him. Kham’s heart felt too big for his chest.  Something was coming.

There were cut-off screams. One after another, the people near him winked out like stars.  He was alone, looking for the thing.  

He sensed it at the last moment as it reached out for you, lifting him up.  Kham could do nothing but lay there, tiny under its inspection. He couldn’t help but look up into its eyes…

Kham woke up in bed.  He was sitting bolt upright, his heart racing.  

He looked over at Fleshripper.  The wicked blade lay in its sheathe, just a hunk of inert metal innocently dangling from his bedpost. 

“We have GOT to get a divorce,” he said to the sword.  

Kham grabbed a wineskin from a nearby nightstand, took a long swig, and then tried to go back to sleep.


----------



## talien

*The Madman: Conclusion*

They met back at The Last Resort.  

Kham looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes.  Sebastian sat across from him, equally haggard.  He wore a heavy cloak over his shoulders.  “There’s been another death at The Tombs.  A man committed suicide.”

“Not that uncommon in The Tombs,” said Kham.  “What of it?”

“My contacts don’t believe it’s a suicide.  They think it’s a murder.”

“Great,” said Beldin.  “As if there aren’t enough deaths to go around.”

“That’s not the interesting part,” said Sebastian.  “The boy’s name was Frederick Haddon.”

Ilmarė froze in mid sip of her tea.  “Haddon?  You’re sure?”

Sebastian nodded.  “Yes, that Haddon.  Federick Haddon was Aljandros Haddon’s eldest son.”

“Looks like you should have used some of your pixie dust on more than just Aljandros’ wife,” said Kham wearily.  

“With a family like that, I’d kill myself too,” said Ilmarė.

Kham picked up his mug and abruptly shoved off from the table.  

“Was it something I said?” asked Ilmarė.

Vlad looked over his shoulder at Kham. “He still hasn’t heard from his father.”

“And judging from the looks of it, he hasn’t’ been sleeping well,” said Beldin.

“I will investigate the boy’s corpse,” said Sebastian. “If it hasn’t been cremated yet.”

“We’ll talk to…” Ilmarė’s lip curled in a sneer.  “My contact.”

Vlad scratched his head.  “So, I don’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject but…is anyone going to pay us?”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 27: The Consequences of Vice - Introduction*

This is a free download set in the Freeport setting, "The Consequences of Vice," written by William Simoni. You can download this adventure at: http://64.17.155.164/gr_files/freeport_WE_consequence_vice.pdf. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:
Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
Kham Val’Abebi(val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
This adventure is more of an outline, so there was a lot more freedom to modify the NPCs and events.  That said, the PCs were surprisingly “on script,” visiting the Crematorium first (before even speaking to Aljandros) and even chasing Hayden Judson on cue.  

Even the ambush by the rival mercenary group was a close fight. This NPC vs. PC battle is probably the most climactic sorcerer vs. wizard combat to date, and it illustrated the inherent advantages of being a sorcerer.  Although the PCs were nearly defeated, even with the odds stacked in their favor the PCs were not able to press the advantage.  Just to clarify how the fight matched up:


Garadon the elven urban ranger vs. Ilmarė the elven bard
Glinfield the Altharian wizard vs. Sebastian the dark-kin sorcerer
Thaim Hammerforge the Nol Dappan dwarf cleric vs. Beldin Soulforge the Solani dwarf fighter
Marta the Milandisian fighter vs. Vlad the Milandisian fighter
Rooster the gnome rogue vs. Kham the val rogue
At heart, this adventure is much more about street politics.  At one point the PCs wondered just how this all fit in with Lucius, but then one piece of information is dropped that makes Kham forget all about him.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Prologue*

Kham sauntered up to entrance to The Tombs, much more confident than before.  One of the guards exchanged words with him.  He flashed the Order of Drac hanging from around his neck.  Then the portcullis winched open.  There was no crowd at night, driven off by the night air and sharp encouragement from the Sea Lord Guardsmen.

“Where did you get that medallion?” asked Ilmarė.  She touched her own just to confirm it was still around her neck.  “I thought Finn took yours?”

“He did,” Kham ducked under the portcullis.  “But that’s not important.  We’re getting in, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know that we even want to be here.” Ilmarė followed him in.

“Well if i' ain't my girlfriend!” shouted Price.  He was dressed in a nightshirt and cap.

Ilmarė pinched the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb. “Osalian help me.”

“I knew yew couldn't stay away from me! I was abaaaht ter get right angry wiv whoever i' was what comes 'ere knockin' at night, but when da mates told me who i' was I 'ad ter greet yew myself.”

“That’s great.”  Kham patted Price on the shoulder.  “And I’m sure my elorii friend will thank you appropriately later.  But in the mean time we need to know about this new suicide.”

“Right, I figured. Well, 'is body turned up aaaht by The Docks. We got a suicide note what same day. Somethin' abaaaht not livin' up ter expectashuns an' all that. Sad, really. Doesn’t make da farfer look an' all good neither, what wiv 'is Council bid an' all.”

“Aljandros is trying to join the Captain’s Council?” asked Ilmarė.

“Aye. I plan ter take a posishun there myself once I get back on my feet. You stick wiv me, love, an' you’ll see what I’ll be quite a wealthy man. Then I’ll dress yew in somethin' becomin' a lady an' treat yew right.”

Ilmarė twitched.  “I’m going to kill him…”

“What she means to say,” interrupted Kham, “is that you’re killing her with kindness. Any chance we can see that note?”

Price looked at Ilmarė.

Seeing this, Kham looked at Ilmarė too.

The pretty elorii sighed.  “Oh, fine.  Price, would you please let us see the suicide note?  I’d be ever so…” she swallowed hard.  “Grateful.”

“There now, that wasn’t so 'ard now was it?” Price grinned and pulled the note out of a pocket in his nightshirt.  “I thought yew might wan' ter see dis. Always prepared, I am.”

Kham examined the note, then handed it to Ilmarė.  “Amazing penmanship for a suicide note.”

“Well, 'e was a studen' at da Freeport Institute,” said Price. “Honestly, you’ll get further if yew look at da body. But it’s probably an' all late fer that, you’ll never get over there in time.”

Kham nodded.  “We’ve got people on it.”


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 1 – The Crematorium*

The Freeport Crematorium was located on a rocky atoll a half-mile west of the city.  Its purpose was simple: make sure the dead of Freeport were disposed of in an effective and sanitary manner.  

Vlad and Beldin paddled a small boat closer to the atoll, with Sebastian at the bow. 

“Actual burning of corpses is done only once a day,” said Sebastian.  The moon shone brightly overhead, reflecting off of the surrounding ocean.  “Hopefully, we’re not too late.

“How could we even tell?” asked Vlad.  He coughed into his elbow.  “It smells like they’ve been burning bodies all day.”

“A boat from the Crematorium visits Scurvytown every day at noon,” said Sebastian.  He seemed blithely unaffected by the stench of burning flesh.  “They pick up the newly dead, as well as fuel for the furnaces.”

Most residents of the city avoided the Crematorium workers, and the entry of one of them into any bar in town usually ratcheted the jocularity level down a few notches. 

For the most part, the grim dedication of the Crematorium staff kept the dead of Freeport out of sight and out of mind.  The winds still occasionally shifted badly, though, sending the faint smell of burning flesh wafting from the furnaces through the streets of Scurvytown.

As they arrived at the island, a figure exited from a large mausoleum.  

“That’s a Nerothian temple,” said Beldin.  “I’ve never seen one before.”

An insect-like figure approached the dock as they disembarked.  The man’s features were completely concealed underneath a black hood with two large lenses.  A mouthpiece pulsed as the man inhaled and exhaled. 

“You are not velcome here,” he said, muffled by the mask.  “Ve do not receive visitors.”

“A fellow Cancerite,” said Sebastian with a slight smile.  “We are conducting an investigation.  We’d like to view a certain corpse, if you haven’t burned it.”

The only response was the figure’s mouthpiece pulsing in and out. 

Sebastian nudged Beldin.  “Show him the Sign of Drac.”

Beldin reached for the medallion around his neck and held it up. 

“Is dis a joke?” said the figure.

Beldin looked at his medallion.  Someone had replaced it with a symbol of the Undir Benevolent Association.

“Damn you, Kham!” shouted the dwarf.

Vlad pushed Beldin aside.  “I have a Sign of Drac.” He flashed the medallion.  “Let us in.”

After a few more moments of silence, the priest wordlessly turned away.  They followed after him.

The rhythmic beat of a furnace and bellows grew louder.  When they entered the mausoleum, the darkness was replaced with flickering fire from a gigantic iron contraption.  Men similarly accoutered to their guide worked massive bellows. 

At the center of the room were ten corpses, splayed naked on a conveyer belt. A large winch and lever was at the front of the belt.  

“You have ten minutes.”  The masked man stumped away.

Sebastian leaned over the corpse.  Frederick was a twenty-year old male with black hair and brown eyes. He was about six feet tall. 

“Anything?” asked Vlad. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade, watching the grim taskmasters attend to their work.

“A quick look shows some minor scrapes and bruises, but nothing obvious that indicates foul play,” said Sebastian.  He gently lifted the boy’s head and turned it. “Well, this is interesting.”

“What?” asked Beldin.

“There’s a scrape across the left side of his face, along with a light bruise.”

“Like he was punched?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian nodded.  He wrenched open the corpse’s mouth. 

“Hmm.  The tongue’s gray.  And the canines are slightly extended.”

“A vampire?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head.  “There are no puncture wounds on his neck.  No evidence of blood drain.  Something else is going on here.” 

He continued to poke and prod at the body.  Sebastian lifted one of the boy’s hands and squeezed it in several places.  “That’s odd.  All of the bones in his right hand have been broken.”

“Sounds like he owed someone money,” said Vlad. “Any guesses who?”

Sebastian and Beldin exchanged glances.  “Finn,” they said in unison.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 2a – The Freeport Institute*

The Freeport Institute was located in a large building in the western-most end of Drac’s End.  In fact, it cut off most of the rest of Drac’s End from the Merchant District, with the exception of the houses in the Cluster.  

“You sure this is the place?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian nodded.  “I have a contact with one of the professors here.”

They stood in front of a series of small buildings gathered together at the far west end of Drac’s End.  

Ilmarė peered down one of the tight passageways between buildings. “You humans call this place an institute of higher learning? Calling the passageways between the buildings here streets would be laughable.  I wouldn’t even refer to them as alleys.”

“I agree.” Sebastian craned his neck, looking for his contact in the bustle of students moving to and from the dorms. “It makes the tunnels in Solanos Mor look roomy.”

Beldin grunted.  “I rather like it.  Reminds me of home.”

A spectacled, middle-aged woman dressed in simple clothing approached them.  She acknowledged Sebastian with a nod. “It’s good to see you again, Sebastian.”

Sebastian bowed his head.  “The pleasure is mine, Wilimina.  I apologize for bothering you, but we are looking for an acquaintance of Frederick Haddon.  We’d like to search his dorm room.”

Wilimina Gertz frowned. “I heard the news.  Of course, I will be happy to help however I can.  You might want to speak with his roommate, Hayden Judson.” She pointed at one of the buildings and began walking towards it.  “Right this way, Room 510. Hayden’s never been a very good student.  He’s a bit of an idiot, actually.”

Sebastian chuckled. 

After climbing some steps, Wilimina rapped on the door labeled 510.  

“Hayden?  It’s Professor Gertz.  Open up, there are some people here who would like to talk to you.”

There was no response.

“Hayden?” Wiliminia adjusted her glasses, agitated.  “I saw him go into the dorm just a few minutes ago, I know he’s in there.”  

Sebastian sighed and tried the knob.  It was locked.  “I don’t think he’s going to open the door. Do you mind?”

Wilimina took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Beldin, knock on the door please.”

The dwarf stepped forward.  “I’ve been wanting to hit something all day.”  

The door splintered open, nearly wrenched off its hinges from Beldin’s impact. 

They caught sight of a short, thin young man with long brown hair and a scruffy-looking beard.  With a yelp, he disappeared over out the window.  A rope tied to a bedpost near the wind went taut.

Wilimina stamped her foot. “Hayden Judson, you come back here right now!” She turned to Sebastian, apologetic.  “I told you he was an idiot.”


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 2b – The Freeport Institute*

Vlad and Beldin huffed along behind Hayden, weighed down by their armor and short legs, respectively.  Ilmarė kept up an easy pace with the fleeing student.

Trailing behind them, Sebastian walked along, whistling to himself.

Hayden turned hard and elbowed a food vendor’s cart over.  It teetered precariously and then dumped its contents into the street, spilling twisted bits of pretzel and salt everywhere. 

Ilmarė hopped up onto the side of the cart and then, with another bound, cleared it. Vlad skidded to a halt while Beldin swept aside the cart with one blow from the flat of his axe.

Sebastian kept on walking.

Hayden ducked into one of the many classrooms on campus.

“Now,” said a stuffy professor from Canceri with frizzy white hair and bushy eyebrows, “Vhen you mix de two components—“

He was cut off by Hayden’s entrance.  The student barreled past him, spilling alchemical solutions hither and yon.  He launched himself through an open window.

The mixture of chemicals on the floor began to sizzle and pop.

A second later, Ilmarė skidded through the room.  The elorii slid along the slick floor without losing her balance and then hopped up, clearing the window with ease.

Vlad stomped into the room, looking around for his prey.

“Oh no!” shouted the professor.  “If de saltpeter mixes with de charcoal and sulphur…”

He didn’t need to finish.  Vlad tore Grungronazharr from its sheath and held it before him.  “Get behind me!”

The students and professor scrambled behind Vlad as the sizzling transformed into a menacing hiss. There was a loud pop, and then a deafening explosion. 

When the smoke cleared, the Vlad, the students, and the professor were unharmed, if a little blackened.  

Sebastian poked his head in.  He patted Vlad on the shoulder as he passed, silently congratulating him for his efforts.  Then he kept walking, whistling as he went.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 2c – The Freeport Institute*

“Get your beads here!” shouted yet another cart vendor.  “Get your shiny beads here!”

Ilmarė couldn’t see the vendor but knew what was going to happen next.  Sure enough, beads went flying in every direction.   She leaped over them.  

Hayden had fled into Scurvytown.  Prostitutes and drunks were everywhere. 

“The Sea Lord’s Guard!” shouted Hayden.  “Run for your life!”

Ilmarė cursed as a mass of panicked bodies fled in all directions.  Some of them slipped and fell on the beads, piling up on top of each other.  She could leap over obstacles, but it was impossible to navigate through the panicked throng. 

“Stupid humans,” she snarled.  They’d stomp each other to death just to get away from the Guard.

“That’s enough,” said Sebastian. He pointed towards the sky.  “Incendiaries globus!”

A fireball burst into the air overhead, suffused with red and black flames.  The crowd shrieked and collapsed to the ground.  People covered their heads and prayed to whatever gods they thought might save them.

“You!” shouted Beldin, picking through the cowering crowd.  He kicked one brown haired student’s prone form.  “Get up!”

Hayden slowly rose to his feet.  He wouldn’t make eye contact with Beldin.  “Don’t kill me!  I swear, I don’t know what Frederick owed Finn but I don’t have it!”

“Finn?” asked Ilmarė.

Kham sauntered out of a bar, a mug still in his hand.  “Finn.  You remember, the guy Egil owed money to? Nice fireworks by the way. Since when did you learn that spell?”

Sebastian looked embarrassed.  “Wilimina is an excellent teacher.”

Kham slurped from his mug to hide his grin.  “I’m sure you’re an excellent student.”

Beldin was shaking Hayden.  “You nearly got a lot of people hurt, boy.  Why did you run?”

“You mean you’re not with Finn?” Hayden asked sheepishly.

“No.” Kham looked at his companions. “Well, they’re not, anyway.”

“We just came to talk.” Beldin shook the boy again.  “So start talking.”

“I swear,” said Hayden.  “All I know is that Frederick was in to Finn’s Syndicate for big money after losing on some recent bets.  He went to see Finn at the Undir Benevolent Association in the Eastern District the night he died.”

The crowd slowly dispersed, realizing that the danger was over. 

“So he was poor and desperate.  Sounds like Finn’s kind of operation.” asked Ilmarė. 

“Well, he seemed to have another source of income.” Hayden glanced around nervously. “He was living it up for awhile there.”

“His father is Aljandros Haddon,” said Kham.  “He’s not exactly poor.”

Hayden shook his head.  “They didn’t get along, so it couldn’t have been him.  Frederick must have had a side operation going on.  But I have no idea what it was.”

“Fine,” said Beldin.  “Then it’s back to our original plan.”

“What’s that?” Hayden’s eyes were wide.

“We’re going to rip your dorm room apart,” said Ilmarė with a smirk.

Hayden gulped hard.


----------



## Qwernt

NNooooo!!!!


I caught up.


----------



## talien

Yes, the horrors of...

Adults finding your copies of Playelf!


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 2d – The Freeport Institute*

Sebastian oversaw the ransacking of Frederick and Hayden’s room with a trace of worry. “My apologies for the mess, Wilimina.”

She smiled sweetly at Sebastian.  “It’s not a problem at all, Sebastian.  I’m more concerned about the damage this young man inflicted on the school.”  She whirled back to resume her dressing down of Hayden, who looked properly chastised.

Ilmarė put one ear to a dresser as she rapped on it with a fist.  She pulled out a drawer full of socks and tossed it aside.  Reaching into the dresser, she pulled out a leather purse. 

“Gold doubloons.” Ilmarė jingled the purse.  “Hayden wasn’t kidding, whatever Frederick was doing on the side, it was lucrative.”

Beldin grunted.  He looked up at the ceiling.  Then he looked down at the floor.

“What is it?” asked Vlad.  

“Floorboards are all wrong,” said Beldin.  “Takes a dwarf to notice.”

“Which floor—“ was all Vlad got out before Beldin bellowed and slammed one foot down onto a board.  The floorboard snapped upwards, flinging a small leather case with it.  Sebastian snatched it out of the air.

Kham reached into the wastepaper basket. “Best way to find out what a man does with his time is to search his garbage.” 

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose at him. “You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

After fishing around for a moment, Kham pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.  He smoothed it out.  “Come with the money you owe us tonight,” he read aloud.  “We will meet in the usual place.  Don’t be late.”

“Sounds like Finn to me,” said Vlad. 

Sebastian opened the leather case.  Four vials of a syrupy gray liquid were within.  He uncorked one and sniffed at it.  “Strange.  I’ve never seen this before.”

“Potions?” asked Beldin.

“Alcohol?” suggested Vlad.

“Poison?” added Ilmarė.

“Oh for Althares’ sake, give me that!” Kham snatched the vial out of Sebastian’s hand.  “Here’s how you find out what a man’s been drinking.”

He took a swig.  And then the world went sideways.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 2e – The Freeport Institute*

Kham sat at the bow of the boat.  It was a bright little vessel of polished wood with a white sail, and it moved gently across the lake in front of the breeze.  He looked down into the water, past where his trailing hand disturbed the surface.  It was spirit-thick and gray. 

Was that movement?

Kham pulled up his hand and a mottled shape ballooned past him not far below, then another—huge marine creatures.   Up ahead, the water slapped.

The fluorescent green back of one of the things cleared the surface for a moment, and then dove.  

Kham saw it still.  It was coming right at him—bigger and bigger.  Then it reared out of the water fully, looming above the boat like a cliff.  He couldn’t wait for it.  

He stood and stepped off into the water.  Falling.  Falling.  Eyes closed.

The water became a mist.  It cleared, and a landscape stretched out around him, stone and heathland and then a walled cemetery.  

Kham stepped through he gates.  The mossy graves fanned out all around him. 

He walked on and on.  Plain markers were everywhere, tens of thousands—there were no angels or other superstitions. 

Finally, Kham came to a corner that he seemed to know. He read some of the names.  They were all familiar to him.  It was his family and friends; everyone living and dead was there. And the dates of the graves were all only a few years past.

His own grave was cracked.  It was a plain tablet without even his name, but he knew it well.  He felt a half-memory of how it was before he was in that boat, before the King in Yellow came.  But everyone was there now.

For he was in Carcosa, the cemetery for all of dead Onara.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 3a – Mind Your Own Business*

Vlad watched Kham wander off down an alley, muttering something about a boat. “Should we stop him?”

They were following a few paces behind.  

Ilmarė shook her head.  “Leave the fool to his delusions.  He knew the risks when he drank that vial—” The elorii froze.

“Still,” said Beldin, “this IS Freeport.  He could get seriously hurt or...what is it, Ilmarė?”

“Trouble.”

The crowded street suddenly parted.  A tall woman in a breastplate, with shield and longsword blocked their path.  Beside her was a Nol Dappan dwarf, resting a huge hammer on one shoulder.

“Noo sonny, yoo've bin pokin' yer beak whaur it doesnae belang. Finn doesnae loch 'at un bit. Sae we're haur tae remin' ye tae min' yer ain business.”

“Huh?” asked Vlad.

The tall woman rolled her eyes. “What Thaim means to say it that Finn hired us to take you out.  Prepare to be uh…taken out.”

Someone shouted, “incendiaries globus!” Then a ball of flames seared towards them.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 3b – Mind Your Own Business*

When the blast cleared, Vlad stood at the center with Grungronazharr in both hands.  His companions were largely unaffected, although the same could not be said for their surroundings. 

“Nobody mentioned the sword!” shouted Marta over her shoulder at her companions, who were standing on the rooftops of buildings on either side of the alleyway.  “Now what?”

“Press them!” shouted Glinfield, an Altharian wizard garbed in red and black robes with a matching kaffiyeh. It was he who had cast the fireball.

Marta shook her head in aggravation and surged forward to engage Vlad in sword to shield combat.  

“Th’ dwarf is mine!” shouted Thaim Hammerforge.  He pounded his pole-hammer into the ground and it ignited with Nier’s holy flames.  Then he took a menacing step towards Beldin.

Nobody bothered to ask Garadon what he was doing, because he rarely communicated with humans.  It made him difficult to hire for a job, but his success spoke for itself.  It was precisely why Glinfield had enlisted him. Although Garadon was an elorii, he seemed to have a pathological hatred of his own kind.  Everyone knew he would target Ilmarė.

“Great,” said Rooster Tumblefoot, a redheaded gnome with a fan of spiked hair in the middle of his otherwise shaved head.  “I get the leftovers. Do I go after the stoned idiot stumbling down the street then?”

“Fire on the warrior!” shouted Glinfield, who was getting into a bad habit of always telling Rooster what to do.  “I’ll take care of the sorcerer!”

Glinfield pointed at Sebastian.  “Magicus telum!” A bolt of magical energy blasted towards Sebastian.

Sebastian held up both hands.  “Mulet sugicam!”  The bolt fizzled in front of the dark-kin.

“What?” shouted Glinfield.  “Impossible!”

Ilmarė rolled and came up with her serpent bow, firing two arrows in quick succession at Garadon.  Two flaming arrows answered the elorii’s volley. 

Beldin hacked at Thaim.  Axe locked with hammer as Thaim shoved the weapon forward.  Beldin nearly lost his grip.

Marta swung at Vlad’s head.  “No fireballs here,” said Marta.  “Just old fashioned steel.” The blow glanced off Vlad’s shield.  

Vlad hacked at her in retaliation, forcing Marta to skip backwards.  A bolt from Rooster’s crossbow froze in mid-air, dropping lifeless to the ground in front of Vlad’s Yig-emblazoned shield.

“He’s immune to bolts too?” Rooster reloaded his crossbow.  “Your intel on this job SUCKS, Glinfield!”

“We’re stalemated.”  Vlad grit his teeth as another blow from Marta nearly sliced off his nose.  “Something has to change.”

“I agree,” said Beldin.  He batted Thaim’s flaming hammer to the side.

The dwarf and the Milandisian nodded at each other.  Then they switched opponents.

Vlad slapped Thaim’s hammer away as Beldin moved to the side.  

The switch took Marta by surprise.  Beldin came in under her shield and hacked upwards, slamming her against the wall and knocking her to the ground. 

Seeing Marta go down, Glinfield panicked.  He pointed at Beldin. “Fulgur sagitta!” 

A blinding bolt of electricity snapped between Beldin and Glinfield’s extended finger.  The dwarf fell to the ground, trailing smoke from his eyes and mouth.

“You’ll pay for that,” said Sebastian.  “Let’s see if you can take what you dish out: incendiaries globus!”

This fireball, aimed higher up at the rooftops, blasted Glinfield off the roof.  Rooster’s blackened formed melted in place where he crouched with his crossbow.  

Thaim was still looking up in shock when Vlad brought him down.  That left Garadon.

Garadon, who never trusted humans and certainly not an Altherian wizard, had erected magical defenses for himself as a contingency.  He bounded from rooftop to rooftop away from the massacre.

Although Garadon was loath to do so, he would have to explain to his employer, a human, that the job had gone sour.  And Garadon hated speaking to humans.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Man, so much for an equiv-level encounter! They weren't even slowed down. Is this pretty much what you were expecting to happen?


----------



## talien

Errr, yeah.

The Consequences of Vice is the chapter when Sebastian, the sorcerer, got fireball.

I tried to explain to the players what this means for a campaign but they didn't believe me.  Basically, once a caster reaches sixth (I think?), you go from a generally balanced battle to a nuclear blast capable of hitting everyone simultaneously for 6d6 fire damage.  I also discovered that in a straight-up fight of wizard vs. sorcerer, sorcerer wins.  

Unlike some of the other characters who didn't appreciably change the power-level of the game if they showed up, Sebastian's presence could make or break a conflict.  If I counted on the sorcerer being present and he didn't show, the competition would threaten to roll over the PCs.  Conversely, if I didn't figure in sorcerer firepower you get...well, what you just read.

I was better able to prepare for Sebastian once I understood what it meant to have a sorcerer slinging fireballs.  As if that wasn't bad enough, worry once Sebastian starts FLYING...


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 4a – Finn’s Syndicate*

Kham woke up…somewhere.

He had a brief vision of Ilmarė leaning over him.  Something about revenge for “that Price idiot.”  

Kham rubbed his eyes.  Whatever was in those vials was powerful stuff.  Powerful enough to make him hallucinate.  Powerful enough to make him sorry he drank it in the first place, but wanting more anyway.

It was like liquid Fleshripper.

“Sarish’s ass.” He rubbed his forehead.  “That’s all I need is another vice.”

Kham struggled to his feet. A note had been slipped under his door.

Kham picked it up.  The note was stamped with the sign of the Undir Benevolent Association.  It was from Finn.  

After reading the note, he let it fall from his hands.  He needed a drink.

As he rummaged around the room for a wineskin, he got a glimpse of himself in the polished bowl near his bed.  It was then that he fully understood Ilmarė’s revenge.

His long locks had been cut off, left on his pillow in a neat little pile.  As if it weren’t obvious enough as to who had defaced Kham’s body, his fingernails were painted purple and silver.

Kham couldn’t help but chuckle.  The elf had gotten him good.  He owed her one.

But it was time for more serious matters.  He walked over to a washbasin that Bobbin had thoughtfully provided.  

He had to clean up. It was time for another visit with the most dangerous crime lord in Freeport.


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Part 4b – Finn’s Syndicate*

An unadorned, brick building in the center of the Eastern District was the headquarters of the Undir Benevolent Association.  People were coming and going from the front entrance.  Many, but not all of them, had the distinctive physical characteristics of Undir.  There we no obvious guards or other apparent security measures.

Kham had visited the Undir Benevolent Association before.  It was a poor disguise for a powerful criminal organization.  

Upon entering the building, Kham found himself in a wide hallway with columns every ten feet down the center.  To his right was a blank wall, but to his left was an opening into a noisy cafeteria. 

A well-armed young woman approached him.  Her eyes were a startling bright blue, her ears were pointed, and there was something odd about her hands.  

“Hi Kham,” she said.  “Back so soon?”

“Hi Touldrix,” Kham replied. “I’ve got an invitation.” He started to fish the note out of his pockets.

“No need,” she said.  “Follow me please.” 

Touldrix led him down a hallway to Finn val’Borda’s office. She gestured at the door and left.

Kham knocked lightly on the door labeled “Finn.”  Finn’s raspy voice summoned him in.

As always, the short and chubby val’Borda sat at what might as well have been his throne.  The guards that were never far from him closed the door behind Kham.

“Good to see you again, Kham.”  Finn’s hangdog expression didn’t match his words.  “Have a seat.”

Kham did as he was told.

Finn sighed.  “You must understand that this is a terrible thing, what this Well-Dressed Man has done.  He has killed someone who owed me money.  That is just bad form.”

“You mean Frederick Haddon.”

Finn nodded. “But on top of that, he impersonated my organization.  And for him to do such a thing is inexcusable.  I am very angry with this man.  And so I come to you.”

Kham straightened up.  This time, he had nothing of value Finn could take from him.  Not even Beldin’s Sign of Drac.  Well, there was always Fleshripper, but he preferred not to think about what might happen if they tried to take it from him.

“My men didn’t kill Frederick.  You know how I operate.  Killing people is bad for business.  I take pieces of people until they remember they should pay their debts.  But they can’t pay their debts if they’re dead.”

“I’ve seen your work,” said Kham.

“This Well-Dressed Man, he sells this drink.” Finn sighed again. “It’s instantly addictive.  Once you get hooked, you never get off of it.  On the street, they call it Ghoul Juice.  I call it poison.”

Kham swallowed. “I’ve…heard of it.”

“You are probably wondering why I asked you here.  I will tell you: it’s because you will do what needs to be done.  Ordinarily, I know that you would provide such a service for free, but because I know we are friends, I will give you another piece of information: the Well-Dressed Man has a hostage.  And that hostage’s name is Corinalous val’Abebi.”

Kham nearly stood up in shock.  Then he remembered himself.  What was his father doing in Freeport?

Finn nodded at Kham’s reaction.  “I do not understand why this man would branch out into kidnapping.  But this man has no honor.”  Finn’s lip curled into a sneer.  “I wish you to explain to this well-dressed dealer that the clothes do not make the man.”

Kham struggled not to just get up and run out the door.  He managed to say, “No problem, Finn.”

“My men have tracked the rat to his lair.  He holes up in Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe, in Scurvytown.  Getting to the bookshop is easy.  You need a password to get in. The password is, ‘I’d like to see your exotic-book reading room, please.’ I don’t do drugs of course; this is just what I have been told.”

“Of course.”

“Be sure to let this man know who it is that sent you.” Finn turned away, finished with him.  “I don’t expect to hear his response.”

Kham turned to go, his hand on Fleshripper’s hilt.  It seemed to pulse with the same rage he felt beating in his chest.  “We’ll be sure to deliver the message.”


----------



## talien

*The Consequences of Vice: Conclusion*

They sat around the table reserved for them at The Last Resort.

“So your father’s a drug dealer?” asked Ilmarė, a pretty elorii with purple and silver hair.

Kham shook his head.  “No, he’s been kidnapped by a drug dealer known as the Well-Dressed Man.”

“Uh, what’s he doing in Freeport?” asked Vlad, the Milandisian.

“I have no idea.”  Kham slurped from his mug.  “But I’m going to find out.”

“Where were you, anyway?” asked Sebastian.

“Finn’s.”

“Finn?” shouted Beldin.  “But he’s the one who murdered Frederick Haddon!”

Kham leaned back in his chair.  “It wasn’t Finn.  It’s hard to explain.  The Syndicate doesn’t deal drugs.  They consider it…dishonorable.”

Vlad suppressed a laugh once he realized Kham wasn’t joking.

Sebastian leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “So it was this Well-Dressed Man, as you call him, that murdered Frederick.”

“Maybe.” He took another swig.  “Or at least one of his men.  Finn said that Frederick owed him money.”

“Hayden said Frederick had a new source of income,” added Sebastian.

“So that income came from dealing Ghoul Juice.” Ilmarė sighed. “Stupid humans.”

“But why would the Well-Dressed Man kill someone working for him?” asked Vlad.

Kham shot Vlad a look of disgust.  “Haven’t you been in Freeport long enough?  Everyone’s scamming everyone else.  Frederick was probably skimming off the top to pay Finn back what he owed.” He kicked off from the table and rose to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” asked Beldin.

“To settle accounts,” Kham said over his shoulder.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 28: Baumann’s Prize - Introduction*

This is an adventure set in the Freeport setting, "Black Sails Over Freeport," written by William Simoni. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I tinkered quite a bit with this adventure, merging the drug den from Black Sails Over Freeport with the drug den from The Consequences of Vice (TCOV).  It wasn’t too hard, given that TCOV has no map and not much of a description of the drug den.

Thus, a relatively minor but interesting character known as Drake becomes the “well-dressed man.”  Drake is a blind rogue/monk who specializes in staff combat.  And he’s Enemy Number One.  Or is he?

True to form, Kham was much more concerned about finding his father and much less concerned about getting revenge.  Although he did slip in a good measure of revenge during all the rescuing.

Conversely, the power of a 6th-level sorcerer becomes apparent. Sebastian can cast three fireballs in a row.  When you’ve got multiple bad guys bottled up in a room, it’s a slaughter.  

I intentionally pared down some of Captain Baumann’s grandstanding because…well, because it’s ridiculous.  Not only does Captain Baumann have a flight of birds who are “trained to harass only strangers who enter the chamber,” but she makes a four sentence speech and then uses a magic item (teleportation gem) that I would never allow characters to own, all so she can make a clean getaway.  Can you say, “railroading” kids?  I knew you could!

Still, because the stakes were so high, the adventure took on a completely different tone that made up for some of the ridiculous cheese.  Unfortunately, Kham also managed to pick up a new vice…


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Prologue*

As they stepped outside and made their way through the streets, they were greeted with a Freeport in varied states of wakefulness.  There seemed to be a change in the quality of the air.  It felt more energetic and alive—and tense.  

Ilmarė sighed, loudly.  “Great,” she said.  “Orcs.”

There was a long line of orcs emerging carrying cargo cross the street.

“I’ve heard that the city needs cheap labor to assist with several construction projects.” Beldin watched the orcs tromping around in droves. “But I never thought they meant this cheap.”

Evidently, some of the street toughs also disliked the arrangement; several of them shot malicious glares at the passing line of orcs. 

A sudden silence descended on the proceedings. An orc had fallen to his knees, clasping a gushing head wound.  A large rock lay beside him like an admission of guilt. 

“Uh oh,” said Vlad.

After a few seconds, an orc companion threatened the crowd with his pickaxe. “Who threw that?” he demanded.

From the crowd came an answering challenge.  “What are you gonna do about it, green-skin?”

“Let’s get out of here,” said Sebastian.  “Before somebody gets—

Kham shouted a challenge.  “Get the hell out of Freeport, no good greenies!  Stop taking our jobs!”

“—violent,” finished Sebastian.  Then fists started flying.

Kham ducked underneath a clumsy swing and spun around to wave his companions on. 

Vlad looked around. “I think we lost Beldin.”

There was a loud bellow and the sound of a bone-crunching impact.  An orc and a human slumped to the ground.  Beldin stepped over him.

“Never mind, I found him.”


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 1a – Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe*

Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe was located on Dreaming Street in Scurvytown.  There was only a dingy signboard depicting an open book and a glowing candle with the words “Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe” printed underneath them. 

“Are you sure this is the place?” asked Vlad from across the street.  “It doesn’t look like a drug den.”

“It’s not supposed to.”  Kham nodded at the storefront.  “Keep watching.”

At random intervals, people who looked more like derelicts than scholars wandered in and out of the shop.  They entered the shop in a rush and cast furtive glances in all directions as they approached the entrance.  Patrons leaving the shop seemed disoriented or drunk, often stumbling in the street.

“I’m going in invisible.” Kham tapped a clear vial in one hand with his thumb.  “Sebastian, Beldin, you go in and say the passphrase: I’d like to see your exotic-book reading room, please. I’ll sneak in behind you.”

“I recommend we all keep our cloaks up and scarves across our noses,” said Sebastian.  “If those mercenaries really were working for this Well-Dressed Man, they may know what we look like.”

“And THAT’S not suspicious.” Ilmarė’s arms were crossed.  

“Trust me, the clientèle here all looks like that,” said Kham.

Ilmarė was skeptical of any plan Kham came up with as a matter of survival. “What happens after you go inside?”

“You and Vlad wait five minutes, then come in and say the same pass phrase. If things go sour, I’ll give you the signal.”

“What’s the signal?” asked Vlad.

Kham pointed both forefingers and, imitating a pistol, fired with his thumbs.  “That signal.”

Then he took a swig of the vial and disappeared.


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 1b – Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe*

Sebastian and Beldin entered a dimly lit shop with bookcases lining the walls.  Carpet completely covered the floor and a floor-to-ceiling curtain concealed the wall opposite the door. An elderly man sat hunched over a desk in front of the curtained wall.  A candelabrum burned in front of him, shining light on the book he was reading.  

The man looked over the rim of his glasses as Sebastian as he entered.  “Hello there.”  He motioned to the bookcases.  “Please look around and see if there is anything you like.  If you need any help just ask.”  He returned to reading his book.

Sebastian swallowed and stepped up to the desk.  “I’d like to see your exotic book reading room, please.”

The man motioned behind the curtained back wall to a door at the far end of a passage.  “The password is: Drac.” 

Sebastian nodded and moved towards the curtain.

“Nobody mentioned anything about another password,” muttered Beldin from behind his scarf.

Sebastian shushed him as he pushed the curtain aside.  It led to a dark passage that culminated in a large door.  

Steeling himself, the dark-kin made his way to the door.  A slot abruptly slid open.  A pair of squinting eyes greeted him.  “What’s the password?” asked someone in a gruff voice.

“Drac,” said Sebastian.  He waited.

Nothing happened.  Beldin slowly started to reach for the axe on his back…

Then the door creaked open.  Beldin stepped inside and out of sight.

“I’m looking for ghoul juice,” said Sebastian, stalling.  “Do you know where I can get some?”

The man, his features concealed by shadow, muttered something about dark-kin.  “Not here,” he hissed back.  “Inside.”

Something tugged on Sebastian’s cloak.  It was just enough to let him know that Kham had just whisked past him.  The guard didn’t seem to notice.

They continued down the corridor to another door.  Beldin stood in front of it, unsure of what to do next. “Now what?” 

Sebastian took another deep breath.  “Try to act natural.”  Then he opened the door.


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 1c – Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe*

Ilmarė and Vlad entered the dimly lit shop, with bookcases lining the walls.  Carpet completely covered the floor and a floor-to-ceiling curtain concealed the wall opposite the door. An elderly man sat hunched over a desk in front of the curtained wall.  A candelabrum burned in front of him, shining light on the book he was reading.  

The man looked over the rim of his glasses as Ilmarė entered.  “Hello.”  He motioned to the bookcases.  “Take a look and see if there’s anything you like.  If you need help, just ask.”  He returned to reading his book.

Ilmarė leaned forward. As she did so, a purple lock fell across one eye.  She tucked it back under the hood of her cloak. “I’d like to see your exotic book reading room, please.”

The man stared at her.  Then he motioned behind the curtained back wall to a door at the far end of a passage.  “The password is: Froese.” 

Ilmarė nodded and pushed the curtain aside.  It led to a dark passage that culminated in a large door.  

Steeling herself, the elorii made her way to the door.  A slot abruptly slid open.  A pair of squinting eyes greeted her.  “What’s the password?” asked someone in a gruff voice.

“Froese,” said Ilmarė.  She waited.

Nothing happened.  Vlad slowly started to reach for the hilt of Grungronazharr.

Then an alarm went off.  

Ilmarė drew her thinblade as a crossbow jutted from the slot. 

“Damn it, I knew Kham’s plan wouldn’t work!”


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 2a – Main Smoking Den*

As Sebastian walked into the smoke-filled room, a pungent odor assaulted his senses.  The windowless room was quite dark inside, with only a few dim candles held in sconces along the walls to illuminate the room.  

Scattered about were a few couches and chairs.  In the room’s center lay three round, cushion-lined depressions.  A few patrons sat here and there, smoking or drinking according to their preference.  There were six curtained-off cubicles along the back wall.

Sebastian spotted a bald, older man behind a counter to his right; the well-dressed man held an exquisite quarterstaff across his lap. A small, barred window sat behind him next to an ironbound door. An extremely tall woman, arms crossed in front of her, stood before the door. 

The dark-kin made his way over to the man.  “I’d like to buy some drugs,” he said stiffly.

The old man chuckled and abruptly turned to face Sebastian.  His eyes were milky white.  “That depends on what kinds of flavor you’re looking for.  Snakeweed will cost you three silver, ghoul juice costs one doubloon, and abyss dust costs two doubloons. 

Sebastian pretended to think it over.  “Two vials of ghoul juice please.  One for me and one for my friend.” He slipped two gold doubloons onto the counter in front of the man.

A young man stumbled out of one of the cubicles and collapsed on a nearby couch.

The Well-Dressed Man felt in front of him for the coins.  He rubbed each coin between his fingers.  Nodding to himself, he turned and slid the coins through the grate behind him.  A few moments later, gnarled hands handed him three vials.  He spun back to place the vials before him.

“You’re blind,” Sebastian said out loud.

“I am,” said the Well-Dressed Man.  “Is that a problem?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not at all.  It’s just that you gave us one too many vials.” He could feel Beldin tense up behind him.

“Quite the contrary,” said the Well-Dressed Man.  “My sense of hearing is very acute.  I gave you the correct number of vials.  One for you, one for your dwarf friend…and one for the fellow in the swishing overcoat trying to sneak past me.”

“Sarish’s ass!” swore Kham.

Just then the alarm went off.


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 2b – Main Smoking Den*

Kham fired two shots, but the Well-Dressed Man seemed to know where he was aiming before he fired. He twisted and the two pistol blasts perforated the wall behind him. 

“Next time, I’m dumping the overcoat,” he muttered.

“Rebecca! Stop them!” The Well-Dressed Man took a deep breath.

Drug addicts stumbled around clumsily, struggling to find sanctuary.  Some of them ran half-naked out of the curtained alcoves.

Sebastian turned towards the tall woman, who advanced on him with sword drawn.  “Rebecca, is it? Nice to meet you.  My name’s Sebastian.  So now that we’re acquainted: Medicates privatus!”

The Well-Dressed Man hopped onto the counter in front of him without effort or hesitation. He exhaled and a gout of flames blasted towards Kham.

Kham dove to the side as he drew two more pistols.  “What the hell kind of drugs are you people taking?” He landed on one of the comfortable couches.  

Beldin charged forward. The Well-Dressed Man’s staff blurred.  Wood struck metal with a resounding crack, and the dwarf stumbled sideways. 

“Don’t help or anything!” shouted Kham.  

“I am helping!” Sebastian shot back.  “Rebecca, there’s an elf and a Milandisian outside.  Let them in!”

The warrior woman nodded and ran out of the room.

The Well-Dressed Man spun his staff in front of him.  “Your pitiful hand crossbows cannot penetrate my defenses.”

“Oh yeah?” Kham cocked the levers on both of his pistols.  “Finn wanted me to pass on a message: Don’t mess with the Syndicate.”

The retort and smoke of two pistols added to the room.  When it cleared, the Well-Dressed Man lay on the floor, dead.

Kham holstered his two pistols.  

“Wow,” said Beldin, rubbing his jaw. “He really was blind.”


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 3 – Basement Door*

There was a brief tussle behind the door.  The crossbow disappeared from the slot.  Then it slowly creaked open.

A tall, muscular woman stood in the doorway.  Her eyes seemed a bit glazed.  She peered at them both.  “You an elf?” she asked Ilmarė.  

“Elorii,” Ilmarė replied.  

“Close enough,” said the woman.  “Sebastian’s waiting for you.  Follow me.”

Vlad exchanged glances with Ilmarė, but they followed her down the dark hallway with weapons drawn.

Several drug addicts stumbled past them as they entered.  

“I brought them as you asked,” she said in a dull monotone.

Sebastian flashed her a brief smile.  “Thanks, Rebecca.”

Kham came back into the room.  “I can’t find my father anywhere!  I’ve torn the other rooms apart.”

Sebastian turned towards his new friend.  “Rebecca?  Do you know the way down?”

She nodded.  “I do.  I can show you if you like, but I can’t go down any further.”

“Why not?” asked Beldin.

Rebecca’s features narrowed with distrust as she took in the dwarf for the first time.

“Why not?” repeated Sebastian.

“Because the boss wouldn’t like it.”

Kham kicked the Well-Dressed Man with his foot.  “You mean this wasn’t him?”

Rebecca shook her head.  “Nah.”

“So the whole Well-Dressed Man act was a façade for something else,” said Sebastian.  “Your father’s probably down there with him, her, or it.”

Rebecca walked through a doorway into a short hall and touched a part of the wall in three places.  A doorway slid open.

Sebastian was about to rush past her, when the big woman grabbed the dark-kin in a crushing kiss.  When Rebecca finally let him go, he gasped for air.

“Be careful,” said Rebecca.  “They’ll be waiting for you.”  Then she jogged out of the room.

Sebastian wiped the back of his mouth with his hand in disgust.

Kham shook his head in disbelief.  “Sebastian and women.  I’ll never understand it.”  He took another swig of a potion and disappeared.


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 4 – Basement Storage*

The stairs led down into a large, dank room with a dirt floor.  In the center of the room was a tall, iron candelabrum with ten lit candles.  The scant light produced by the tapers caused shadows to dance about the room.  Scattered throughout the area were numerous crates, barrels, boxes and sacks.  

“Count to five,” whispered Kham to Sebastian from seemingly nowhere.  “Then do what you do best…besides charming women.”

Beldin burst open the door.  “Knock, knock!” he roared.

Several unsavory-looking men wielding cutlasses greeted Beldin at the foot of the stairs.

“ONE!” shouted Beldin.  He batted aside a cutlass with his axe and shoved the man backwards with the haft.

Kham catapulted himself over the sea dogs heads and landed in the midst of them.  But they couldn’t see him, and they were far too preoccupied with the angry dwarf at the foot of the stairs.

“TWO!” Two more sea dogs struggled to take on the living wall that was Beldin.  He smashed one in the face with his shield and hacked the other one back down the steps, cleaving his cutlass in the process.

An effeminate-looking elorii in swashbuckling grab stood safely at the side of the stairs, egging his companions on.  Near as Kham could tell, he provided no value whatsoever.

“THREE!” A fourth sea dog lunged, only to have his cutlass caught by the wicked curve of Beldin’s axe.  The dwarf twisted and the man spun sideways. 

Kham ducked his head into a rectangular room.  A long table with many chairs dominated the center, while double bunk beds lined the walls.  It was the crew’s quarters. Kham closed the door.  

“FOUR!” Beldin had yet to actually move from the steps.  One sea dog hurled his cutlass in frustration.  It bounced off Beldin’s shield.

Kham ducked inside one room when the elorii wasn’t looking.  It had beautiful rugs adorning the floors and was lit with golden candlesticks.  There was a plush couch along one wall, a carved wooden armoire, and a comfortable-looking bed.  

“Must be a woman’s quarters,” said Kham. Then he realized it was probably the elorii’s.

“FIVE!” Beldin just crossed his arms and waited.

The sea dogs froze, unsure of what he was up to.

“Incendiaries globus!” shouted Sebastian.

As the flames engulfed them, they figured it out pretty quickly.


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Part 5 – Baumann’s Sitting Room*

A secret door opened to a staircase that culminated in a circular room.  The walls appeared to have suffered from a cave-in.  Mosaic tiles on the floor depicted a massive, coiled snake baring its fangs. 

“Stupid humans,” said Ilmarė.  “They’re recycling ssanu lairs.”

“One snake replacing another,” said Kham from nowhere.  “Cover me.”

Two guards charged forward from the opposite side of the room, only to be met by Vlad and Beldin. A door opened as Kham entered…

“Ah HA!” shouted the swashbuckling elorii on the other side.  He lunged forward with his rapier, spearing at the air where surely someone must have entered. 

“Ah ha your damn self,” said Kham.  Two pistol blasts caused the elorii to twist backwards.  Unfortunately, it also caused him to lose his invisibility. The two combatants separated from each other across the door while the battle raged outside of the room.

They were in a circular room filled with bas-relief carvings on the walls.  The craftsmanship was incredible, depicting strange serpent men engaged in a wide variety of activities. In the center of the room was a round, sunken couch appointed with plush cushions.  Scattered about the place were cages filled with exotic birds.

“Dad!” shouted Kham.

Chained to the wall at the far end of the room was a gaunt older man, wearing a blue robe and cracked pince-nez.  He looked up, almost unable to speak.  “Son!” 

“We can’t have the family reunion interrupted,” said the elorii.  With a flourish, he pulled a wand from his puffy shirt and pointed it at the doorway. “Casses!” 

A spew of white and gray webbing filled the room.  A dwarvish curse on the other side indicated the ploy had worked.

Kham ran full tilt towards his father, stopping short only when a woman blocked his path.  She wore black studded leather and knee-high boots.  Her waist-length flame-red hair was tightly woven into dreadlocks, and a wicked scar crossed from the top of her forehead to the middle of her right cheek.  Kham focused on the shimmering cutlass in her hand.

“Shantar, keep them out,” said the woman.  “This one’s mine.”

“Aye, aye captain,” said the blonde-locked elorii known as Shantar. He slammed the door shut.

Kham dove and rolled.  The cutlass struck a glancing blow, tearing off a piece of his overcoat. 

“I don’t know who you are lady,” Kham said, feinting left, and right.  The captain matched his every movement, her cutlass always pointed at his nose.  “But you’re pissing me off.”

Shantar leaned his back on the door and began picking at his nails with a long stiletto. He started to whistle a tuneless melody.

“Your father is worth a lot of money,” she said. “It’s not personal.”

“It is to me,” said Kham.  He dodged past her but not fast enough.  She slashed him across the thigh.

Kham stumbled over to his father and fired at one of the manacles.  It snapped apart.

He placed the other pistol in his father’s bruised palm.  “Here dad.  You get a good shot, you take it, understand?”

Before Corinalous could respond, a cutlass whistled through the air where Kham’s head had been.  He jumped backwards and pulled two more pistols from his overcoat.  

“Ustilo radius!”

Shantar, who had been standing in the doorway, was suddenly engulfed in a blast of flames as door and elorii gave way.  Sebastian stood framed in the doorway, his fingertips smoking from the conflagration.

“A sorcerer?” The redheaded captain put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Suddenly, all the birds flew out of their cages.  The room was filled with a cloud of brightly colored feathers and high-pitched tweeting.

“You have not seen the last of me, worthless scum! Captain Baumann will live to fight another day!” she shouted. “When that day comes, I will hunt you down and skewer you one by one.  Watch your back…” 

When the birds finally calmed down, she was gone.

Corinalous struggled to his feet.  “There isn’t much time.  We’ve must find my friend Flint.  He told me to meet him at The Last Resort.  I fear it is already too late.”

Ilmarė blanched.  “What is this white stuff all over the floor?”


----------



## talien

*Baumann's Prize: Conclusion*

When they finally arrived at The Last Resort, it was easy to find out Flint’s room number from Bobbin. 

“The gnome said he wouldn’t be getting many visitors,” said Bobbin. “But they’ve been coming in all day. Rough-looking types went up to call on Flint a half-hour ago.”

“Wait,” said Vlad. “I know that gnome.  I was having a beer with him today!”

They rushed up the steps. The door was partially ajar. Corinalous pushed the door open.

Flint was still in the room, although it looked as though he would never leave it again under his own power—or in one piece, for that matter.  

The gnome lay splayed on the room’s solitary bed.  His throat was cut wide and his chest sliced open, with the contents of the latter piled sloppily at his feet.  Blood, bile, and other viscera soaked into the mattress and puddled onto the floor below.  These substances were also used to scrawl a series of words and symbols on the wall over the bed.  

“That’s no language I’ve ever seen,” said Ilmarė.

Corinalous stood over the corpse of his friend, shaking his head.  “Oh Flint.  I told you not to pursue this.”

Kham peered at the words.  “Leviathan, we offer these gifts in your name.  O Master of the Seas, guide us as we struggle in your foul name. Bloody One, grant us strength.”

“Leviathan?” Vlad took a step back.  “Did you say Leviathan?”

Between the unhallowed words, Kham could make out one design that was almost familiar: an octopus’ head.  As he looked closer, he realized something strange about the design: five stars circle the dome of the octopus. 

Corinalous lifted up a heel of the dead gnome’s boot and, twisting it slightly, pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment.

He handed the parchment to Kham.  It was browned, faded and roughened to the consistency of leather.  

They stepped out of the room and downstairs.  Sebastian took Bobbin aside to explain what happened.

Kham unrolled the parchment onto a nearby table.  It expanded into a cracked five-foot square map, with wear along the edges.

The map had no indications of scale or direction; the trails of latitude and longitude began at the margins of the map, but they didn’t extend more than a few inches. Five islands rendered in ochre by an unsteady hand dominated the map, forming a rough circle.

Four of the island drawings featured terrain markings—mountains, jungles, natural harbors, and so forth.  In addition, a unique icon sat below each of the four islands: a prosthetic hook, a spyglass, a ship’s bell, and a pistol.  The fifth island was blank, save for a symbol in its middle—an octopus head and crossbones with five stars ringed above the dome of the head—and a single word beneath it: R’LYEH.

“That’s the sign of Leviathan,” said Vlad again, tapping the octopus head.  “So the Leviathan cult has finally made it to Freeport.”

“There’s an inscription in the corner here,” said Ilmarė. “By a ship-wrack’d hand, late of Freeport, a veteran of the great campaign, as a warning to all: here there be terrors beyond all reckoning. There’s a date too: several days short of one hundred and fifty years ago.”

Another patch of ocean set off in a triangle and filled with a picture of a whirling vortex of water sat in another corner of the map, falling inside the latitude and longitude coordinate markings.  

“This part reads, Hell’s Triangle,” said Beldin from his side of the map.  “There’s an icon of a sextant.  The text below it reads: Safe transit, housed in Freeport, the gift of noble Carthy.”

Corinalous leaned back in his chair, weary and drawn.  The adrenaline had worn off.  

“Flint acquired that map a few month ago. Not being able to make head or tail of it, he corresponded with me. I assured him that the map wash extremely valuable. I planned to book passage to Freeport on the Wasser Madchen, but it crossed paths with the Kraken’s Claw at sea and was sunk. I told Captain Baumann I knew how to get my hands on a load of treasure.”

“Well, that explains why you weren’t answering my messages,” said Kham.  He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his father’s presence.  “You’ve got to rest up. If the Cult of Leviathan has come to Freeport, it’s not safe here.

Corinalous nodded. “I will look after Flint’s corpse and spread his ashes.  I have…” his gazed lingered on Kham’s emerald, “…a safe house in Freeport.  We can hide there while we figure out what to do next.”

Ilmarė looked back and forth between Corinalous and Kham.  “If you’re Kham’s father, what’s up with that accent?”

“What accent?” asked Corinalous.

“What matters is that we got came for,” said Sebastian.  He bowed his head slightly to Corinalous.  

“Yeah,” said Kham, patting several vials of stolen ghoul juice in the folds of his overcoat. “We got what we came for.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 29: Shattered Dreams - Introduction*

This is a Living Arcanis adventure set in the Arcanis setting, written by Jeffrey Witthauer and Jeffrey Meehan. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure, known as “the one where Kham gets rid of Fleshripper,” took an interesting turn.  For one, we changed the main character of Corinalous to be Kham’s father.  Corinalous is the right age as well as a val’Abebi, so that fits nicely.

For another, mixing the events of The King in Yellow with the dream world seriously warps the reality of the game.  What’s real and what’s not? As if Kham didn’t have enough problems, this adventure forces him to face the ghosts of his past.  Literally.

Unfortunately for our heroes, even after they complete their mission within the sword, they’re not going to get back to Arcanis that quickly.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Prologue*

Kham was shown into a large drawing room, high ceilinged and comfortable with blue settees and a deep green carpet.  There were several objects of art in evidence: a white ivory tusk with a circular procession of figures carved around its length and a brass polar bear lazing on a crystal ice floe to name two.  Kham sat down on one of the settees.

Corinalous soon appeared.  He looked very pale and drawn.  He was a dark-skinned Altherian, with long white hair and moustache. 

“Hi, dad.”  Kham didn’t get up.  “Long time, no see.”

Corinalous sat down on the other settee.  “I wanted to speak with	 you first before I spoke to your friends.”

 “Do you remember the last time we had a quiet drink?” Kham poured two glasses of wine from a carafe.

Corinalous took the offered glass. “Hmm…what did we talk about?”

“We didn’t talk,” said Kham.  He took a sip. “We never talked.”

“And do I detect a rebuke?”

“A regret. It was just the two of us, dad. It was a lonely way to grow up. For you, too. If you had been an ordinary, average father like the other guys' dads, you'd have understood that.“

“Actually, I was a wonderful father."

“When?"

“Did I ever tell you to eat up? Go to bed? Wash your ears? Do your homework? No. I respected your privacy and I taught you self-reliance."

“What you taught me was that I was less important to you than the Emerald Society; less important than people who had been dead for five hundred years in another country. And I learned it so well that we've hardly spoken for twenty years."

“Kham, it’s true, I’ve stayed away from Freeport ever since I discovered you had made it his base of operations.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been totally truthful with you, son.” He nodded towards the huge sword that was never far from Kham’s side.  “That…thing and I were acquainted before.  And I knew I had to get it as far away from you as I possibly could.”

“That’s why you were always gone? Because of a stupid sword?”

“Fleshripper’s not just a sword, son.”  Corinalous’ gaze fixed on Kham.  “You can feel it already, can’t you? It’s like a leech in your soul, drawing out your life; and yet you cannot bear to be parted from it.  I thought that I could control it too. After much research, it became clear that there was only one thing I could do: I used an ancient ritual to bind my life force to the sword. After that, it could no longer steal the souls of its victims, and it could no longer exert its will so easily on its wielder. But I was wrong. The sword has a great power, one I could not contain.  It slowly draws upon the soul of its wielder, until eventually that soul is consumed by the sword as well. You’ve probably felt that pull before, and I imagine it’s stronger now.”

Kham nodded, wordlessly.  It was almost unbearable, the urge to kill his own father.

“My proximity to the blade is doubtless causing it to stir, and it is that reason the Emerald Society has not stepped in until now, as per my wishes.  I am sorry I had to cause you so much pain, son, but it was the only thing I could do until I figured out how to defeat the cursed blade once and for all.”

“That explains why all my requests to have Fleshripper examined were denied.” Kham took another swig. “It doesn’t explain how the sword ended up in my hands though.”

“I hid the sword away in a secret location, hoping it would lay undisturbed until I found a way to destroy it permanently.  But the sword had different plans.  It fell into the hands of hobgoblins, and thanks to their depredations soon absorbed enough souls to waken again.  Then it crossed your path.  I think something more sinister is at work here, and it’s manipulating events to ensure that a val’Abebi wields Fleshripper.”

“This artifact-hunting, it’s an obsession, dad.”  Kham patted the hilt of Fleshripper like an old friend.  “I never understood it.  Never.  Neither did mom.”

“Oh, yes she did,” said Corinalous softly.  “Only too well.  She never approved of my adventures, but I thought training you as a librarian would better suit your temperament and hers…”

“It didn’t work, dad.”  Kham turned away. “It didn’t work for Lucius either.”

“No,” said Corinalous with a sad smile.  “It didn’t seem to take.  And here we are, twenty years later in Freeport.  I never thought you’d run off to join the pirates.”

“I’m not a pirate, dad.” Kham bit his lip.  “But what did you expect? That’s all you ever talked about.”

“I don’t deny it.  For the past thirty years, I’ve read almost everything I could get my hands on about piracy, from the escapades of Drac and Francisco to their predecessor, Jarl One-Eye. That’s why I came to Freeport. I received a letter from an old friend, Flint.  He had found a weathered map that appeared to lead to untold treasures.  From his description and my long studies, I knew it could be only one thing—the map to legendary R’lyeh.”

“I remember,” said Kham.  “You always talked about finding that island.  It only appears once every couple of hundred years, right?”

R’lyeh had been the subject of sailors’ tales for well over a hundred years: a fabulous island that had ever been lost at sea on which the god, Yarris, placed vast amounts of treasure.  Its beached had sand of gold dust, the trees flowered with pearls and diamonds, and the streams ran with the purest silver.  Many men had sought R’lyeh, and they had met their doom in Hell’s Triangle in their search for it.  

Corinalous nodded.  “Maybe longer than that.  It was that discovery, coupled with the fact that Lucius had returned to Freeport, that forced my hand; I had to go to Freeport, even if it meant putting you at risk.”

“But then you crossed Captain Baumann.”

“I was on my way to visit Judge McGowan when she attacked my ship and took me prisoner.  I told her enough to save my life—that I had a secret that would lead her to great treasure.  But I didn’t tell her the rest.  I knew my life was forfeit as soon as I did, and I held out hopes my old friend Flint would find a way to rescue me.”  Corinalous looked over at the urn containing Flint’s ashes.  “Fortunately for me, you got to me first. Poor Flint.”

“I got suspicious when you didn’t respond to my sendings.”

Corinalous stroked his moustache.  “Ah, the irony: the one time you contact me is when I’m not around.”

“Yeah, real ironic.” Kham sighed. “Listen, dad, why are you against Lucius being freed from The Tombs?  He’ll die in there.”

“He’s a murderer,” said Corinalous.  “Or at least, he was part of a murder.  The domestic staff called for me on the night that Lucius’ father and sister was killed.  The bodies were in the drawing room.”

“What happened to them?”

“Herbert Roby’s body had been entirely drained of blood, seemingly from a deep wound in the upper chest.  No blood from the corpse was apparent.  Georgina Roby had been attacked with a sharp instrument, perhaps a broad ax if wielded by one very strong or in a great passion.”

“That doesn’t prove that Lucius did anything.”

“Lucius was in the house during the murders.  When I went upstairs to see him, Lucius declared that it was he who had killed his father and sister.  He wouldn’t explain and was hysterical with grief—his sister’s fate appeared to affect him particularly.  I could not equate Lucius with the murders, both from what I knew about him and from the manner of the deaths: there was no physical evidence linking him to the killings such as one would expect with such a bloody crime.  Lucius was not held in custody for long, but he seemed a broken man.  I had Lucius under confinement for some time, but at some point he disappeared and we lost track of him.”

“He was possessed by…something,” said Kham. “He went on a long voyage for years.  I guess he started it with a murder. But he’s a good man, dad.  He may be a little confused, but he doesn’t deserve to be sent to The Hulks. And for someone like him, that’s a death sentence.”

Corinalous nodded.  “I know.  But I fear he’s being manipulated by the same forces influencing the sword.”  He was besieged by a violent bout of coughing.  “And if it means people must die, so be it.”

Kham took a long drink.  “You didn’t used to be this way.”

Corinalous stood up.  “This is not one of those bedtime stories I used to tell you about pirates, son.  This is deadly serious.  Many lives are at stake.  I’ve seen what the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign can do—“

“So have I,” said Kham. “But that doesn’t—“

“I’m dying,” said Corinalous. 

Kham clamped his jaw shut.

Corinalous walked over to Kham so he could look him in the eye. “Fleshripper is drawing on my soul, even now. If I die, nothing will hold it back from regaining its full evil might. Truth be told, I don’t mind if I die.  I’ve lived a long life.  But you…it will take you next.  And that is simply…”

“Intolerable?” Kham finished for him.  If his father was anything, he was predictable.

“Intolerable,” Corinalous said with a slow smile. “We’ve got stop Fleshripper before it takes you too. I discovered a ritual that will stop the curse and separate you from the blade, but I cannot do it alone.”  He put one hand on Kham’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry son, but this task falls to you. There is a grove of hills not far from Freeport, with a pure spring that should serve our purpose.”

Kham took a deep breath.  “Okay, dad.  Tell me what we need to do.”

“Gather your friends,” said Corinalous.  “We must hurry, my mere presence is awakening the blade as it grows hungry.”

“This conversation isn’t over, dad,” said Kham.  “This thing with Lucius…he’s running out of time.”

Corinalous tightened his grip on Kham’s shoulder.  It was the most affection Kham had received from his father in years.  “I’m hoping it’s just the beginning of many conversations.  Let’s go.”


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 1 – Nightmares Return*

If anything, Corinalous seemed weaker the next morning, his body wracked with almost constant coughs. 

“We don’t have much time, apparently,” he rasped. He turned to Kham’s companions.  Beldin Soulforge, the stout dwarf.  Ilmarė Galen, the sarcastic elorii. Vlad Martell, the able warrior.  Nauris Drilian, the stealthy tracker.  And of course, Kham val’Abebi.

“And now you must decide who will accompany Kham on his journey. It is likely to be dangerous, and I do not know what sort of resistance you may encounter. Not only are there evil souls mingled with the good inside the blade, but the blade itself is awakening to evil power. I cannot guarantee your safety – but then, in life, what safety is guaranteed to any of us?" 
He smiled wryly. 

They exchanged glances.  “We’re in,” said Vlad.  “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Then please, sit.”

Once all of them were seated, Corinalous draws himself up, looking at each of them.

“I am going to send your souls into Fleshripper. When you are ready to return, remember that you have this.” He brought forth a gemstone of cut glass and handed it to Kham. “Break this after you have destroyed the source of the sword's power, and your souls will return to your bodies. I do not know what you will find within the sword, but remember that not all things may be as they appear. Do not trust your eyes, and take nothing for granted.” 

“Right,” said Kham. He sat in the center of the circle of companions. 

Corinalous passed his arms above his head, muttering something under his breath. A light, silvery thread connected all those who sat before him. “The fate of thousands of souls rests on you. Good luck.”  He looked at Kham. “Draw the sword.” 

Kham drew Fleshripper.

Corinalous nodded, then said calmly, “Drive it through your heart.” 

Kham balked.  “Excuse me?”

“Drive it through your heart, boy,” snapped Corinalous.  “It’s necessary for the ritual.”

“I can help,” said Ilmarė.

Kham ignored her.  He stared hard at his father.

“I know this is difficult,” said Corinalous softly.  “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Kham took another deep breath. “Okay.”  He took two more deep breaths.  Then he plunged Fleshripper through his own chest.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 2 – Dreams Revealed*

Each of them, as one, felt the steel of Fleshripper slamming through their heart. Each of them felt their heart burst under the pain, and then the quick sensation of falling, falling into death. 

After a moment, they felt an icy grasp and suddenly, unnaturally, their souls were drawn into darkness, then swirling colors, then darkness again.

They were standing on a grassy hill, surrounded by a fog from which came strange shapes. Creatures from twisted imaginations fly through the air. The terrain formed and reshaped itself, flowing like water, while streams of water twisted and loop through the air itself, flowing upwards then back down again. 

Everyone was left gasping from the experience.  Only the dwarf and the elf stood resolute.

“What?” asked Beldin, looking around.  “This is about one-tenth of the pain I experience every time my body dies and my soul is drawn to my shard.”  He fingered the crystal shard that hung from an amulet around his neck.

“We’re in the Dreamheart,” said Ilmarė, looking around.  “I’ve never been here before.”

“Because you didn’t have the magic to do so?” asked Dril.

“Because I do not sleep,” said Ilmarė.  “And I see it’s not only the landscape that has changed.”

Vlad appeared as the hero he imagined himself to be.  He was accoutered in shining full plate, filigreed with gold.  He seemed nobler, stronger, more sure of himself.

Dril, on the other hand, was a creature of shadowy darkness.  A black cloak billowed around him.  Red eyes shone from beneath a deep hood.

“That’s about how I would imagine you two would look,” said Kham. “But the dwarf. Wow, Beldin.  You must have some ego.”

Beldin’s change was the most dramatic.  He was taller then them all; huge, muscular, handsome, and virile.  His eyes blazed with silvery fire and his skin was golden.  He was a god among men, an ancient titan of old, before the curse of Illiir brought the dwarves low.

Beldin gold skin turned slightly bronze on his cheeks.  He was blushing.  “This is who I truly am,” he said with a grimace.  “It is a reminder of the glory that was before the Age of Man.”

“And you look exactly the same,” said Vlad to Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shrugged.  “Elven souls are unchanging across time.  I am exactly who I wish to be, no more, no less.”

“What about me?” Kham fished out the stone Corinalous had given him, just to confirm they still had a way home.  It was unchanged, firm and solid in a world where everything else seems mutable. He tried to catch his reflection in the stone, but the light kept shifting.

Everyone just stared at him.

Kham took his lenses off.  “Are my pupils back?”

Vlad slowly nodded.  

“Good.”  Kham reflexively put his hand on the hilt of Fleshripper, only to discover it wasn’t with him.  Of course it wasn’t! Kham chastised himself.  He was so accustomed to the cursed blade’s presence that he felt naked without it.

He grinned at his companions with a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Let’s figure out how to end this curse, shall we?”  And with that, he walked off in a random direction.

“Did you see…?” asked Vlad.

Ilmarė nodded.  “I know,” she said.  “He looks like a ghoul.”


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 3 – Through the Looking Glass*

They were not alone in the strange dreamscape. The sounds of battle raged all around, along with occasional, haunting glimpses of the broken and bloody bodies of men, dwarves and hobgoblins. 

Then through the mists appeared a small party of dwarves, led by a tall, shapely woman whose beauty was only marred by the scars on her face. Her troops’ armor was made of liquid shadow, blurred and shifting. 

“Reavers,” snarled Beldin. The dwarves had weld marks binding their shadowy armor shut over their bodies. 

The troop as one turned to gaze at the Solani dwarf, then began moving towards him, despite the fact that their feet were marching in a different direction entirely. 

“So that would be the evil we’re here to defeat,” said Kham. 

The woman sneered. “I can smell the stink of heroism on them,” she cooed in a voice like a whisper. Her words echoed from all around, causing swirls of color and light as they passed through the fog of dreams. “Kill them.” 

Vlad drew Grungronhozarr. Beldin drew his battleaxe.  Dril drew a scimitar and dagger.  They waited as the Reavers closed.  

Two of the Reavers fell as bullet holes appeared in their helmets.  Another spun sideways, the victim of two arrows jutting from the eyeholes of a helmet.

At a cliff high above them, more dwarves battled men in armor of shimmering light, dueling upside-down on the underside of the cliff face. Fading into view through the fog was a massive melee between dwarves and hobgoblins on one side, and men and dwarves on the other, fighting on the top of a strange purple lake. 

”You’re getting better.” Kham holstered two of his smoking pistols and drew two more.  “That’s a difficult shot.”

Ilmarė smirked.  “Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.”  Another Reaver fell from carefully aimed arrows.

On the cliff face above, which had suddenly shifted into a rolling plain and was now almost directly below them, the tide of battle turned as a new squad of men in shimmering white armor appeared.  They were led by a tall, proud, and scarred Coryani, who broke the line of Reavers. 

Beldin roared.  He was easily Calactyte’s equal in size and strength, batting aside the smaller Reavers like a child throwing a tantrum at her playthings.  

The Coryani leader looked around, and for a moment his eyes locked with Kham’s. He barked an order, impossible to make out over the din.  His men, running in slow motion, began moving towards them. 

Dril darted sideways, sliding the point of his scimitar under the ribcage of one of the Reavers.  He stabbed the dwarf’s exposed throat as he went down.

“There’s too many!” shouted Vlad.  He was having difficulty as three Reavers closed in on him.

As the deadly woman and her Reaver henchmen prepared for another attack, they found themselves flanked by soldiers in white. 

One of the soldiers, a young boy whose white aura resolved itself every so often into a simple steel breastplate, said, “It’s not safe here! Follow me. Stay close, and do not lose sight; this land is very dangerous to those who are lost.” He turned, and moved quickly away. 

They followed him out into the mists.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 4a – Interpreting the Dream*

“Catch them, you fools!” 

The forces arrayed against them quickly disappeared into the fog, despite their commander’s orders. 

Soon enough, though, even her shouts faded.  They found themselves staring at a remarkable sight. 

“The Dreamheart,” said Vlad, “is a very weird place.”

A massive tree grew from some spot below them that was obscured by the fog. It was easily as wide as a small village, and its branches, laden with brightly colored leaves and flowers, were wide enough to walk on. Their guide led them along the branches until they were totally obscured by the leaves.

Abruptly, as though someone had lit a lamp, they were surrounded by shimmering gold, silver, and emerald swirls. They were in a military encampment; tents of bright colors were scattered about, and men clothed in flowing light walked around on patrol. 

Their guide took them to the man they saw earlier and dropped to one knee. 

“Inquisitor,” said the boy, the fog muffling his voice, “I have brought the new ones that we saved from Ophelia’s talons.” 

“You have done well,” the Inquisitor said in clipped tones. Then he looked at Kham with bright gray eyes. “I am Medricas val’Assante, formerly an Inquisitor of the Mother Church, now commander of the forces of good inside this accursed sword. I suppose you were slain in battle? Tell me, who wields the blade now?” 

Kham swallowed hard.  “I do.  Or I did.  Maybe I still do.  It’s complicated. My father performed a ritual that sent us here.”

“We’ve been sent here to stop the curse of Fleshripper,” said Vlad.  

Medricas looks at Kham, his eyes narrowed.  “Good.” He nodded. “Perhaps you might find a way to do what I cannot. I have been here a long time, my friends. I was only the third person to wield Divine Vengeance, which you call Fleshripper. The woman who attacked you is Ophelia val’Tensen; she was once a paladin of Illiir like myself, but the sword’s power long ago turned her to evil. She was the wielder of the blade before me.” 

“How do we destroy the blade?” asked Ilmarė. 

 “If I knew that, I would have done it long ago,” said Medricas. “I doubt that it can be destroyed from within, but if you are being assisted from the outside, it may be possible. I do not know how, though. The Creator made the sword; he, if anyone, would probably know how it could be destroyed. Whether or not he would tell you is another matter entirely.” 

“Where’s the Creator?” asked Dril.

“I can show you the path, but I must remain here,” said Medricas. “Ophelia will attack again soon, and we must defend our last stronghold. The Creator exists in the very heart of this mockery of reality. Here in the dream we cannot die, but near the Creator, the rules may be different. Or they may be the same. Or they may break altogether. Take nothing for granted.” 

“We need to rest,” said Vlad. He was favoring one arm, which had been struck by a glancing blow from a Reaver’s axe.  

Medricas chuckled. “You’re in a dream, my friends. What need have you of rest?” 

They exchanged glances.  “What?” asked Vlad.

“Will it,” added Medricas, “and you shall be restored.”

They all closed their eyes.  After a moment, they opened them again.  Nothing happened.

Except for Ilmarė.  She glowed with a golden aura.

“How did you do that?” asked Dril.

Ilmarė pursed her lips.  “Like this.”  She closed her eyes again.  A scratch on Dril’s face healed instantly. “I meditate every day.  Your untrained minds are not accustomed to such focus.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “Can you do that for everyone?”

Ilmarė shrugged and closed her eyes again.  They were all briefly engulfed by a golden light.

“Reminds me of Quintus’s healing magic,” said Vlad.    

The elorii bit her lip but said nothing.

Medricas held out his hand. A translucent pitcher of water appeared in it. He poured the pitcher, and as he water splashed against the nothingness under their feet, it spilled out into a stream.  The stream twisted back and forth, up and down, sometimes looping through the air as it wound away into the distance. 

“That is your road," said Medricas. "Do not stray from it until you reach the halls of the Creator. If you become lost, I cannot spare men to find you. Good luck.” 

“I have seen what happens to shattered soulstones,” said Beldin.  “What will become of you if we destroy Fleshripper?

"I do not know,” said Medricas. “Hopefully, we will be freed to stand before the Judgment of Nier, as we should have done so long ago. If not, then we have been doomed since coming here, and even oblivion will be far better than this endless war. If no others will ever suffer under Fleshripper's bite, then our sacrifice will be worthwhile." 

Then, suddenly, a familiar female voice rang out from all around you, “Medricas! This ends here and now! We will triumph, and fulfill our holy will!" 

Medricas grimaced “Hurry, my friends,” he growled. “You may be our only hope.” He turned and receded into the fog. As did so, the whole room faded away, leaving only the glittering, shimmering path of water.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 4b – Interpreting the Dream*

As they walked down the watery path, they ring of metal on metal and the clash of arms echoed all around them. Images flickered at each bend in the path, visions of Medricas’ soldiers being struck down by the dark creatures of Ophelia val’Tensen. 

“There!” shouted Vlad, pointing.

A young boy was locked in battle with five Reavers. He was pushed back a step at a time, until finally his sword was struck from his hand, dissipating instantly. 

The boy fell to his knees and begged.  “Help me! Someone! Anyone! Help me!” 

Vlad drew his sword, but Kham put one hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

“But the boy…” said Vlad, frantic.

From above, Medricas dropped in front of the boy, slaying a Reaver with one blow. He dueled the remaining four to a standstill, driving them back.  

“Medricas warned us,” said Kham, turning away.  “Keep your eyes straight ahead.”

The Reaver Medricas had felled rose again.  With a mighty blow, the Reaver drove his axe into the back of Medricas’s skull.  Medricas screamed in pain, and then fell to the ground. 

Vlad gasped.  He took his crossbow off his back and began loading it.

The Reavers turned again to the weaponless boy, who crawls back along the ground, wide-eyed and scared.  “Help me!” 

Vlad fired a shot.  It bounced off the Reaver’s armor.

Kham walked past him.  “Put the crossbow down, Vlad.  There’s nothing we can do.”

“But we can’t just let the boy die!” shouted Vlad. The scene slowly faded from view.

Dril patted Vlad on the back.  “Let’s go.  It’s too late for the boy now in any case.”

“Ilmarė’s right,” Vlad said quietly at Kham’s receding figure. “He really is a ghoul.”


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 5 – Interpreting the Dream*

The silver path they followed took them through the swirling dreamscape, but the images were darker, older, and more twisted than before. Half-seen visions from their worst fears lurked through the craggy ruins of architectural styles not seen for centuries. 

Kham noticed a high window in a brown building on his right.  Ragged curtains flew out in the wind, fluttering like streamers.  They must have been moving in a freak breeze, because a flag about them hung limp.  Suddenly, they whipped out of sight, and for a second a pale face replaced them.  It looked directly down at Kham, with an unreadable expression on its frozen, paper-white face.

“You okay Kham?” asked Vlad.  Kham had stopped, staring up at the distance building.  But the mists obscured the face and the building.

“I’m fine,” said Kham, shrugging Vlad off.  

Finally they were surrounded in fog so thick they could barely see the path a foot ahead. Then, through the fog, a small cottage was visible.  It was made of rotting, crumbling wood with a dirty straw roof.  Standing in front of the cottage, listlessly hacking at the barren ground with a rusty hoe, was a brawny, barrel-chested dwarf with scarred brown skin and fiery red hair and beard. He showed no notice of their arrival. 

The dwarf looked up, blinking slowly. "Hello. Who are you,” he said in a flat monotone without any apparent interest in the answer. 

Kham stepped forward.  “I know you,” he said.  “I’ve seen you in my dreams. You’re the Creator, aren’t you?”

“I am he,” said the dwarf.  “My name is Nubuto, and I created Fleshripper.”

“We’re here to destroy it,” said Kham.  “It’s been twisted into a weapon of evil.”

"Ah," the dwarf said sadly. "I had hoped that it would serve as a tool for good, but I see now that that is not the case. Very well…I will do as you ask. Take my hand." He extends one callused hand towards Kham. 

As Kham grasped the dwarf's hand, the grip became a vise. Then the dwarf’s body erupted into a much larger, uglier and much more muscular shape. 

"Your soul is mine!" it bellowed through misshapen teeth as its massive arms began to squeeze. 

“AAAH!” Kham shouted back. He tugged away from the thing, but the grip tightened. “What the hell?” The ring that granted Kham freedom from all bindings was not with him. 

Suddenly the mists parted, and where the cottage once stood, there was a gaping maw of a Coryani-style arena. All around them, a mob of spectators screamed for blood and glory. Kham recognized many of them as victims of Fleshripper. 

To his left were the citizens of Vestalanium.  There was the former guard; his small gladius was useless against Fleshripper’s superior reach. He recognizes the barmaid; Kham had slit her throat with Fleshripper. Kham had hacked the leg off of an old man, who stood drenched in blood to the right of the barmaid.

To his right were the citizens of Dunover.  He had killed several of them, including an old woman.  The pretty, plump village maid who had tried to kill him was also there.  They were all there.

The massive figure, all traces of its former dwarven shape gone, barred the way to the closed portcullis on the opposite side of the arena exit. Except for its size, the thing looked exactly like the hobgoblin chieftain from whom Kham originally took Fleshripper. 

“I want my blade BACK!” it roared.  

Kham fumbled for one of the pistols in the folds of his jacket.  Then he remembered how the Dreamheart worked.  

“I don’t have it.”  Kham pointed his open hand at the hobgoblin’s face. “But I do have this!” A flintlock pistol appeared in Kham’s grip.  He pulled the trigger.

The thing lolled backwards, its head ruined.  It released its grip on Kham.

“Run for the exit!” he shouted.

Kham dove past it as the thing began to twitch.  

“What the…” was all Vlad got out before its arm snaked forward, grabbing him by the ankle. 

Dril spun, drawing his two blades. “Can’t you imagine us at the Creator or something?” 

Ilmarė blinked.  “Let’s see…”

Dril faded away.

Ilmarė sat down, cross-legged, and closed her eyes.  The thing stomped towards her.  It lifted a huge axe overhead…

Only to bring it down where the elorii had once been.

Vlad and Beldin looked at each other across the monster’s hunched form.  “Well, now what do we do?” asked Vlad.

“I’m trying not to take it personally,” said Beldin.  He rolled to the side as the thing’s axe gouged a furrow in the sand.  “Run for the exit!”

They ran.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Part 6 – Dream Master*

As soon as Vlad and Beldin exited the arena, it was as if that place never existed. Instead, they walked through the door of a typical dwarven sitting room. A roaring fire burned in a stone fireplace, the smoke leaving through a chimney carved through the living rock. Though there was little floor space, the ceiling was high and vaulted, in typical dwarven fashion. 

Sitting on a soft bed in one corner of the room was a burly red-haired dwarf, the same as the impostor in front of the cottage. His head lay in the lap of a female Nol Dappan dwarf, her form indistinct and shadowy; to one side stood a male Nol Dappan, equally indistinct. 

Soft words, in male and female voices, murmured a constant stream of soft, soothing words. “You did the right thing. You have sought justice. You continue to seek justice. You have made us proud. Your legacy has lived on. You have done nothing but good.” 

Kham, Dril and Ilmarė were already there.  The shadowy figures on either side of him paid no attention to their arrival.

The eyes of the reclining dwarf focused upon Kham. He reluctantly sat up and looked at him with tired, sad eyes.  “Who has disturbed Nubuto, creator of Divine Vengeance? Who dares interrupt my communion with my ancestors?” 

“I’m here to stop the curse of Fleshripper,” said Kham.  “Whatever you intended for the blade, it’s been twisted by a greater evil.”

”That’s ridiculous,” said Nubuto.  “It was forged to defeat Reavers.”

“And it has,” said Beldin.  “But like all weapons, it has killed far more than its fair share.  You must stop this, Nubuto.  As a dwarf, you know that this is wrong.”

Nubuto rubbed his forehead.  “You’re confusing me with this nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” said Vlad.  “There are people stuck in this blade along with you, good and bad alike.  All because of Fleshripper.”

“You mean Divine Vengeance.” Nubuto looked Kham up and down.  “The blade has done this to you?”

Kham blinked.  “What?”

With a great sigh Nubuto rose from his bed, stepping forward. "Give me the blade.”

“I don’t have it…” said Kham.  But then he realized it had been right there all along, hanging from his belt like an old friend.  

"It is only a shadow of the original, but a shadow will be enough." Nubuto put out both hands.

The figures of Nubuto’s parents shimmered with rage as they moved between Nubuto and Kham. “No, son! You cannot do this!” his father cried. “Your quest! Your vengeance! You must be avenged!” 

Kham struggled to take Fleshripper from its sheath. Sweat broke out on Kham’s forehead as he slowly drew the wicked, jagged edges from the sheath.  It did not want to go.  He didn’t want it tot go.

Nubuto shook his head. “I am dead. What need have the dead for vengeance?” 

“What about us?” his mother shrieked. “Would you kill us as well?” 

Nubuto looked at her for a long moment, then turned away. “You, also, are already dead.” 

With a concentrated effort, Kham handed Nubuto Fleshripper.  

Nubuto raised the blade…and snapped it across his knee as though it were a fragile stick. 

There was a rushing sensation as the Dreamheart shattered all about them like a mirror, the pieces flowing away and leaving them once more in utter blackness. And in the blackness, Kham felt his soul, his life energy, begin to leak away into the void. 

Kham reached into his pockets for the only thing that was real anymore.  Then he crushed it.

The shattering of the gem was deafeningly loud in the utter silence, and the crushed fragments flickered and glowed in the complete blackness.  The void around Kham lurched sickeningly, and for a brief moment he wondered if he had done the right thing. 

There was a sudden pull on his side.  It quickly became an insistent yank, followed by a blast of cold so strong his blood froze in his veins.  Then the wind hits him; a cold gale filled with ice chips that strike him like a hail of needles.  

“I don’t think we’re in Onara anymore,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Shattered Dreams: Conclusion*

They were all there with Kham; stuck in that unknown, frigid place.  The ongoing snowstorm limited vision to only a few paces, and the lonely howl of the wind made it difficult to hear.  The only landmark was nine black monoliths.

“Oh, no.” Kham fell to his knees. “No, no, no!”

“What happened?” shouted Vlad.

“Our transportation has been diverted,” shouted Ilmarė.  “Osalian is displeased.”

Beldin wiped the snow off the face of one of the monoliths.  They were each over thirty feet tall, smooth-sided with pyramidal tops.  

“Expert construction,” muttered Beldin.  “No human built these.”

“It’s just like in my nightmares,” said Kham.  “This is where they summoned him.”

“Who?” shouted Dril.  “Who did they summon?”

Ilmarė peered at the writing.  “That’s an ancient tongue.  I’ve never seen it before.”

“I know what it says,” said Kham.  “I can remember it clear as day: Nine teeth jut up lining the maw of living earth.  This is the Unspeakable One’s prison.”

“Wait…what?” Vlad had difficulty speaking. He was starting to shiver.  “You mean to tell me that after all this time of trying to keep the Unspeakable One off of Arcanis…”

“The Unspeakable One brought us to him,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 30: Cold Visitor - Introduction*

This is a Devil’s Workshop adventure set in the Arcanis setting, written by Lee Hammock and Jason Walton. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

So I was a big meanie.  Instead of letting the PCs get back home to Corinalous, I decided it’s high time the Unspeakable One let everyone know he hasn’t forgotten them.  And he does it in a big way.

This adventure merges the monolith summoning sequence in Tatters of the King with the adventure Cold Visitor.  This is a good thing too, because the scenario in Tatters of the King assumes that the PCs will find the monoliths but be powerless to move them.  That may be true in a regular Call of Cthulhu campaign, but in a world where magic is commonplace, it’s just a matter of hiring the right wizard to cast the right spell and—voila!—Hastur’s return is completely foiled.

Since the summoning actually works (sort of) the first time in Tatters of the King, I decided there should be far-reaching consequences.  Because Kadath is known as the “cold waste,” the return of the Old Ones is “after summer is winter,” the Herald of the King adventure took place in a terrible snowstorm, and this adventure requires a paraelemental plane of cold…it made sense to equate the Unspeakable One’s return with the cold.  This is where it’s firmly established; whenever there’s a really bad snowstorm, it just might be a gate to Kadath.

This adventure is a complete rip-off of The Thing, one of my all time favorite horror movies.  We had just the right mix of paranoia, tragedy, confusion, and terror.  Unfortunately, the adventure itself is rather vague in how things should unfold; fortunately, the ad-libbing made for a much more interesting game.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor - Prologue*

“Someone’s coming,” said Ilmarė.

Faint barking reached their ears through the roaring of the wind. A blue-green light bobbed closer. 

A small, scowling man entered the clear.  He was armed with a blunderbuss and illuminated by a blue-green torch that burned without paying heed to the whipping winds all around. Three large dogs were in tow.

“Take them,” he shouted, waving at the monoliths with his rifle. “I want no more of your money.  You’ve had your imperials worth.  Take them! Off with you!”

“What?” asked Vlad.  “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” the man said.  He cocked the blunderbuss.  “Those things brought on this storm, and I want it to stop.”

“Calm down,” said Dril.  “We just recently appeared here ourselves.  Where are we?”

“Where are you?” the man shouted back.  “You’re in Milandir!”

“We are?” asked Vlad. 

“In that case…” Dril pointed at Vlad.  “You might be interested to know that this man here is Vlad Martell, Bailiff to Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.”

Vlad nodded.  “If someone put these things on your land, they did so without permission.  I can help.”

The farmer looked Vlad up and down.  Then he lowered his weapon.  “The name’s Jennings.  Someone gave me two imperials three years ago to let him use the hill.  Then they gave me another imperial to leave all this stone here until he needed it.”

“Who?” asked Dril.

“I don’t know,” said Jennings.  “Didn’t look at them much.  But since the things have been here, it’s been nothing but bad luck.  The land around the copse stopped yielding—crops come up swollen, sweet, and rotten.  And then there’s this damn snowstorm…”

“Just like last time,” said Beldin.

Jennings pointed a path out of the copse.  “Everyone out.  I’m going to bring blackpowder down here and blow these accursed things up.” He raised his rifle and fired at one of the slabs of granite.

The pellets slapped into the monolith. As they sang off it, there was an awful shriek from above.

Kham looked up from where he was kneeling in the snow.  “Oh, crap.”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor - Part 1 – The Killing*

Something big and dark slammed to the ground right in front of Jennings. With huge wings, long claws and curved ram’s horns, the creature hissed at Jennings.  It tilted its head, its eyes filled with intelligence and curiosity as it flapped its wings.

“Byakhee!” shouted Ilmarė.

The farmer reeled back in fear, dropping his gun and raising his arms in front of his face.  Before anyone could react, the byakhee clutched the man by the face, lifted him, and worried his head like a rag doll. Done, the byakhee crouched on its haunches and with a discordant scream, flung itself back into the white sky, climbing in ungainly motions. 

Dril dove and rolled to the ground as the byakhee clutched at him. 

Ilmarė backed up against one of the monoliths and drew her bow.  Vlad and Beldin had their weapons at the ready.

“I’ve fought these things before,” said Beldin. “Wait until they snap their heads forward…” he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.  One of the hideous insectoid heads nearly snapped his head off.  Beldin smacked it aside with his shield.

Vlad used the opportunity to strike at the creature’s wings, tearing a jagged rent in the thin membrane.  But it didn’t seem to matter; up close, he could see the creature’s wings were tatters to begin with.

It screeched in response and whirled on Vlad.  The oddly jointed neck darted forward—

And then the byakhee’s head bounced off into the snow, leaving black ichor as it bounced.  

“Thanks,” said Vlad to Beldin.

Beldin stood with his axe head down in the snow, grinning broadly despite the storm.  A looming shadow reared up behind him.

Before Vlad could shout a warning, there was a terrific boom, as if someone had thrown a blackpowder grenade.  Smoke and snow flew everywhere, along with bits and pieces of byakhee.  Vlad had to cover his eyes as the debris showered around them.

“Nice shot…Kham?” said Vlad.

Dril stood with the blunderbuss’ stock sitting on one hip, the wide mouth of the weapon still smoking.  “It took me awhile to figure out how to load it,” he said.  

Kham hadn’t moved.  Snow had gathered on his shoulders and closely cropped hair.  “We are so screwed,” was all he said.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 2 – Springer Mound*

Small, sputtering torches were planted out in a row.  They seemed more to mark a path than any real attempt to keep the oppressive snow at bay. 

They followed the torch trail to a slight rise.  It was the first real geographic feature they had encountered.  

The hill was not more than a few score feet tall, but on the otherwise featureless plain it stood out quite a bit.  As they walked over the ice towards the hill, it felt pulpy. 

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.  “Do you smell that?”

There was the beginning of a sickly smell on the air. Once they reached the hill, the smell was worse.

“Smells like rotting fruit,” said Vlad. 

Kham bent over and rested on his knees.  “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

They were no longer in their dream forms and ill-prepared for cold weather travel. 

Beldin, seemingly unaffected by the cold, peered down at the ice around the hill.  “Something’s buried here,” he said. 

There were several dark spots where something was buried underneath.  

“What is it?” asked Dril.

“I can’t tell,” said Beldin.  “But it’s large.  And the center of its mass lays beneath this hill.”

Several limbs reached out from the center, spreading in all directions.  

Kham flinched.  “Let’s go. We need to find shelter, soon.” He stalked off along the line of torches.

“What’s eating him?” asked Vlad.

“I saw it too,” Ilmarė held herself as she looked down at the ice.  “One of the limbs moved.”

“That’s not the disturbing part,” said Beldin.  

“They’re yellow limbs,” added Dril.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 3a – The Lorehouse*

A plain stone structure reached out of the snow, old beyond counting.  Snow had piled up against every side of the structure, with the only exposed areas being the upper walls and a single entrance on the side facing you.  The structure was made out of the same granite as the monoliths, but seemed completely unadorned.

“It’s not great, but it’ll do,” said Kham.  He ducked into the opening.

Inside, the stone structure was hundreds of books of varying sizes lining the walls.  There were no lights inside, no furniture, no sources of heat and no other exits.  

Kham began tossing books into a pile.

“What are you doing?” asked Ilmarė.

“Staying alive,” said Kham.  “We have to get a fire going or we’ll freeze to death.  Not all of us are children of the wind or whatever you always say.”

Ilmarė sniffed.  “I wasn’t going to say that. But there may be some clue as to where we are and how we can get out of here.”

Kham threw one of the books down.  It slammed to the ground, hard.  “I KNOW where we are.” He threw a particular heavy book onto the pile. “We’re in Kadath.” He threw another, thinly bound book to the floor. “We’re stuck here.” He lifted a copper-bound book. “And there’s no way out.”

Ilmarė grabbed his wrist.  “That’s the Turner Codex.”

Kham blinked.  “What?”  He turned the book to look at its cover.  “You’re right!” Kham sat down cross-legged, the cold and their predicament forgotten. “Maplethorpe Turner supposedly discovered a number of thin copper plate in Khitan, covered with hieroglyphics that had been painstakingly hammered into the metal.  He spent eleven years deciphering it and finally published his findings in a thousand-copy limited edition. This is number one twenty six.”

Dril grabbed a book and threw it onto the pile.  “That’s great.  But that’s not going to keep us warm.”

“What happened to Turner’s book?” asked Ilmarė.

“It was rejected.” Kham left out the part about the Emerald Society rejecting it.  “Turner refused to reveal his collaborators, possibly to keep all the credit to himself. When the metal originals melted in a fire, Turner never received recognition for his work.  But what’s it doing here?”

“Does it say anything about getting out of here?” Beldin added another book to the pile.

Kham flipped through more pages.  “It speaks about a Black Lake, and how a Monstrous Thing that had fallen upon Carcosa from the stars lived in a state of somnolence, from which it woke betimes, ravening with hungers unspeakable.”

“The thing that’s buried in the ice?” asked Vlad to no one in particular.

Kham continued to read aloud. “And the sages said that this Dweller in the Depths was of the very spawn of Azathoth and half-brother even to Dread Leviathan, the Lord of the Great Abyss, and that the Thing in the Lake would mate with the Black Ewe with a Thousand Young, aye, even Tizzhet; and upon that hellish and cloud-like Entity had begotten the Twin Abominations, even Nug and Yeb.  And it was deemed unprudent to utter upon the lips of men the Name of the Thing in the Lake, wherefore was it known as The Unspeakable.”

“The Unspeakable One.” Dril lit a tindertwig and threw it on the pile.  The books sputtered into flames.  The light illuminated their faces with macabre shadows.

“The Pantheon had their final confrontation with the Other before the Onyx Castle,” continued Kham. “The enormous shrine was built on the mountain of Kadath in the Cold Waste, built by the Other's heretical cultists, upon a field of black crystals.  Yet, even infused with the energy of their fallen allies, the Pantheon was not able to destroy the Other. Instead, They imprisoned it, sealing it for all Eternity away from those It would feed upon.”

“Disgusting.” Ilmarė shook her head. “Clearly, this Codex was written by humans.  They speak of the elorii pantheon as ‘fallen allies,’ as if they had not committed murder in cold blood.  And even then, the human gods’ murder of the elorii deities was all for naught.”

Kham nodded. “Yep, the human pantheon is all in here.  Althares imprisons the Unspeakable One with ensorcelled metal, Nier uses fire, Hurrian uses a pure blade, Sarish uses ten pounds of silver, and Illiir ends a prayer with something about stilling the song of birds and the quieting of beasts.  Hmmm.”

The others circled around the fire, struggling to keep warm.

“What?” asked Beldin.

“There’s an entry here about Belisarda.” Kham looked up at Ilmarė.  Belisarda was the lone surviving goddess of the elorii pantheon. “Something about the Keepers of the Belisardan Sign.”

“Give that to me,” snapped Ilmarė.  Kham tossed the book to her without comment.

Ilmarė’s eyes scanned the page. “The Belisardan Sign is an ancient glyph that captures and focuses the power of the natural world; an item of jewelry that bears a properly crafted Belisardan Sign becomes a potent ward against creatures from outside the natural order. It must be fashioned from a pure metal and taken to a location high above the sea, where the Unspeakable Promise prayer must be read.”

“Sounds great.  If we ever make it back to Arcanis alive,” said Dril.  “I’m pretty sure there’s no seas around here.  At least, ones that aren’t frozen, anyway.”

Ilmarė ignored him.  “The Sign offers protection against enchantments worked in the wearer’s hearing that include instrument, song or performance.  The first prayer allows absorption of such an enchantment when accompanied by a soft ring of a chime.  The second prayer allows the release of the absorbed energy.” She snapped the book closed.  “I’m holding on to this.”

Kham shrugged.  “Keep it.  The Codex told me all I need to know.  And now I wish I never read it.”

The fire expanded into a blaze, consuming the books hungrily.

Vlad looked around.  “Fine, I’ll ask. What did you read?”

“I now know the Unspeakable One’s name,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 3b – The Lorehouse*

Ilmarė cocked her head.  “Someone’s coming.”

The sound of trudging footsteps breaking through the snow reached their ears.  Soon, a light accompanied the noise and three heavily clothed figures stepped out from the storm, illuminated by a blue-green torch. 

The first figure pulled a thick scarf down from his face, revealing a thick black beard beneath a red nose.  “Welcome to Milandir,” he said.  “I hope you can cope with boredom.” Kham stepped forward, but the burly man looked past him.  “Vlad?  Vlad Martell?  Is that you?”

Vlad peered around Kham.  “Jag? Jag Orgun?”

The two men shook hands warmly.  “You’re the last person I expected to see here! I kept telling the men that the Duke would send reinforcements!” Jag searched Vlad’s face for some sign of hope.  “You’re not here to rescue us, are you?”

Vlad put up his hands, helpless.  “I’m not sure how we got here myself.  Are the rest of the Green Griffons with you?”

“Aye,” said Jag.  “Although a lot of men have moved on since.  A few of us are still with the Griffons: me, Messer, Laskin.  We’ve got a new Captain now.”

“I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” said Dril.  “But did you say we’re in Milandir?”

The other two men behind Jag lowered their scarves.  “It’s hard to say,” said Jag. “Near as that cursed wizard Fedders can tell us, we’re at the nexus of something or other.  Some kind of prison.”

“Silas Fedders?” asked Vlad.  “He’s Duke Adolphos val’Tensen’s court wizard.”

“Aye, him.” It was obvious from Jag’s expression of distaste how he felt about the man. “Still nattering on about some discovery.  We’ve been stuck here for months, and he can’t get us out. But boy will he be pissed when he sees what you did with his books!” He said over his shoulder to the other two men. “Come, let me give you and your friends proper Milandisian hospitality.  We’ve dug out a barracks in an old stone fortress.  It ain’t much, but it’s home.”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 4a – Silas’ Encampment*

The storm didn’t abate.  Lieutenant Orgun and his men had to tie a rope to each of them to make sure no one got lost in the icy hazy that ate at their skin.  Orgun’s group led them to what at first appeared to be a slightly darker area of sky.  As they walked further, the wind died down for a merciful moment. 

A stone building was visible, with more buildings to the sides.  The path of the torches led straight to the structure, which was made of several small buildings built side-by-side. 

“None of the construction looks skillfully done,” said Beldin.

“It’s warm,” said Dril.  “Warmer than out here in the cold.  That’s good enough for me.”

A short distance ahead of the main set of buildings stood a guard post.  From the small hut came a call, “Who goes?”

Lieutenant Orgun spoke with the guards for a few minutes before they were escorted inside. 

The room stank of sweat, mold, and unclean living.  Eight pairs of bunk beds dominated the room in rows, with a footlocker at both ends of each bunk bed.  The floor was strewn with a chaotic jumble of clothes, weapons, armor, and other random items.  

“So much for military discipline,” said Ilmarė.  

From the barracks, they were led into the mess hall.  Two large wooden tables, each capable of seating at least twenty people comfortably, dominated the room.  Around the edges of the room were many shelves, pots, pans, dishes and foodstuffs.  The whole arrangement was well organized in comparison to the barracks, as evidenced by the many foodstuffs neatly labeled.  On one wall was a target for darts, while another shelf held a chess set, several books, and piles of cards.  Most importantly, there was a stone fireplace on either end of the room. 

Two people were waiting for them in the mess hall.  A severe-looking, muscular woman with short hair and piercing eyes stood next to a shifty-eyed man dressed in robes.  

The woman addressed Vlad. “I’m Captain Penser.” She nodded to the man at her side.  “This is Silas Fedders, Court Wizard to Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.  The men tell me you’re val’Tensen’s Bailiff.”

“I am,” said Vlad.  “These are my companions: Kham val’Abebi, Beldin Soulforge, Ilmarė Galen, and Nauris Dril.” Penser nodded at them each in turn.  

“I don’t suppose you’re reinforcements,” Penser said glumly.

“I’m afraid not,” said Vlad.  “We were…traveling ourselves when we were drawn here.”

“Near as we can tell,” said Silas in a mincing tone, “the cultists, perhaps the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, created a planar conjunction between this world and our own.  The two have overlapped, causing the unnatural weather.”

Orgun nodded.  “We’ve led patrols out to get help, but they always end up back here.”

“It’s a small plane,” added Silas. “A prison of sorts.”

Dril stepped forward. “What can you tell us about the creature beneath the ice?” 

Penser looked at Silas.  “I don’t know of any such thing.  Do you, Silas?”

Around them, other Green Griffon soldiers began to gather round, their curiosity roused by the strangers. Most of the men were content to stare at Ilmarė. 

Silas’ eyes narrowed to slits.  “No,” he said slowly.  “I don’t.  What did you find?”

“The King in Yellow.” Kham was warming himself by the fire. He didn’t bother to turn around. 


“This plane has been hijacked by the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.” Dril took a menacing step forward. “Whatever it is under the ice is going to get out.  It may take hours.  It may take days.  But eventually, it will escape.  And then we’re all going to die.  Any questions?”

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably where they stood, silent.

Penser dragged Dril away from the others by his elbow.  “Listen. This is my command and while you are in this compound you will follow my orders.  The morale and well being of my men are MY responsibility and I will NOT have you just walking in here and undermining it.  If we’ve got a monster then we will deal with it like any other threat. Do I make myself clear?”

Dril crossed his arms and nodded.

“Good.” She turned back to look at Dril’s companions.  “I don’t suppose you have any news of the outside world?”

“As a matter of fact, we have a talented bard in our midst.” Kham smirked over at Ilmarė.  The elorii glared daggers at him.

“Sing! Sing! Sing!” the men shouted.

Ilmarė sighed and hopped up onto the table.  “Stupid humans,” she muttered. Then she took a deep breath.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 4b – Silas’ Encampment*

Sausage with bread was placed on the table.  

“Not bad,” Beldin speared a sausage with his knife.  Knives weren’t supplied; in Milandir, one was expected to bring his own knife to dinner.  “Fulfilling, if not particularly tasty.”

Dril cut a trencher in half that was set between them.  “Considering the surroundings, a warm meal is good enough.”

In celebration of their arrival, some of the soldiers broke out a jug of potato rum that was being passed around the room.

At a separate table, Vlad snapped down another seven-strength dragon in his flight of Three-Dragon Ante.  

“That’s your second strength flight!” exclaimed Sergeant Laskin.  Everyone tossed seven gold pieces into the pot. “Vlad, I heard you could play a mean game of Three-Dragon Ante, but this is amazing.”

Orgun snorted.  “He’s had a lot of practice.  He was in the Green Griffons when you were crawling around on all fours.”

“You mean last night?” added one of the soldiers.

They all broke out into laughter. 

“Like the rum?” asked Laskin.  “The men created a still in our spare time.”

“It’s great stuff,” said Vlad.  “Good, Milandisian liquor.”

A loud slamming noise came from the door on the northern wall, which was part of a double door system used to go outside without letting cold air in.  Seconds after the slam, two soldiers ran into the room.

“Blood spatters.” Ilmarė leaned over to whisper in Beldin’s ear. “Covering their leggings and boots.”

Panicked looks covered their faces as they scanned the room, finally settling on Captain Penser. They ran over to her, leaning over the table and forgetting all pretense of military protocol.  

“Captain,” said one of the soldiers. “Miles and Suven are dead.”

The mess hall became deathly silent.  

The Captain got up from her table and led the two soldiers into the kitchen to complete the conversation in private. As soon as the kitchen door closed behind the Captain, the mess hall broke out in a roar of wild speculation. 

“It’s that Yellow King they mentioned!” shouted one of the soldiers.

“Now calm down,” said Orgun with his booming baritone.  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

“I agree,” said another woman.  “Let’s wait to see what the Captain says.”

“That’s one of Silas’ apprentices, Elise Parthil,” said Dril.  “The other is Merkin Sonderhed.”

After a few minutes, the Captain and the two soldiers returned to the room, all looking grave.  She waved for silence.  The mess hall immediately quieted.

“Privates Miles and Suven in Watch Post A were killed.  Privates Lilit and Pilar in Watch Post B were performing their rounds when they found them.  The body of Miles was still in the watch post, but Suven was dragged away into the snow.” She turned to Orgun.  “Lieutenant Orgun, take some men and go after Suven.  As for the rest of you, I want two men on every entrance. Pull the men back in from the watch posts. “

What that, the Green Griffon Company jumped into action. 

Orgun clapped Vlad on the back.  “Coming?”

Vlad smiled and looked at his companions.  “We’re in.”

“Like old times,” said Orgun.

Vlad nodded. “Like old times.”

Elise took the Captain aside. “The doors in our section can be magically locked.  They don’t need to be guarded.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Penser frowned in the direction of the wizards’ quarters.

“Kham can guard them,” said Vlad. He looked around.  “Where is Kham?”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 5 – Apprentice’s Room*

Kham entered a lavishly decorated room with rugs on the walls and blankets piled high on the beds.  There were two desks, two beds, a table, four chairs, and a long table covered in books and glassware.  It seemed like a cross between a library, laboratory and domicile.  Also near one of the beds there were several piles of books and ledgers all neatly arranged in stacks.

Invisible, Kham crept over to the books. It didn’t take long for him to locate Elise’s journal.  It detailed six months of drudgery, brightened over the last two months by…

“Hello, Sergeant Messer!” whispered Kham to himself.

Messer and Elise occasionally rendezvoused in the attic of the wizard storage area. 

“I support Silas’ actions,” wrote Elise, “in getting the Hastur Shard.”

Kham slammed the book closed.  “Hastur Shard.  Great.”

He looked around and spotted the door to the south.

Kham tried the knob.  It didn’t budge. 

Kham reached into his overcoat and pulled out his trusty dagger.  With a snap, the lock picks embedded in the hilt of the dagger sprung out in a fan.  He inserted one of the picks into the lock and twisted.

Nothing happened.

Kham flipped out a different pick and tried the lock again.  No luck.

“Damn it, what kind of lock is this?”

He was still fiddling with the lock when Elise Parthil entered the room.

“I see you’re already on guard duty,” she said matter-of-factly. “They need you outside.”

Kham whipped around with his hands behind his back.  Obviously, the invisibility potion had worn off. “Err, yes. I was just testing the integrity of this lock.  What happened?”

“The Captain is missing.”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 6a – Going After Suven*

Orgun led the way, with two other soldiers and two dogs.  The dogs seemed nervous, barking occasionally at the Green Griffon soldiers.

“We’re lucky.”  Orgun kneeled in the snow, his blue eyes taking in every inch of the ground before him.  “There hasn’t been that much snowfall since Suven disappeared.  I can see his tracks.  And that of something else.”

“What kind of something else?” asked Vlad.

“The tracks appear to be that of a large creature dragging itself along the ground,” said Orgun. “It uses muscle contractions.”

“Like a worm,” added Dril.

“Yeah,” said Orgun, frowning up at Dril.  “Like a worm. The creature was pulling Suven behind it.”  He pointed out a series of red spatters in the snow.  “Looks like he didn’t give up without a fight.”

“Wait a minute.” Beldin looked over his shoulder and back at the blood spattered trail.  “We’re doubling back towards the camp.”  

“There!” Ilmarė pointed. 

Suven was only wearing parts of his heavy cold weather gear, drenched in blood.  He walked with a lurching gait.  

“Suven?” asked Orgun. “Are you okay?”

Suven turned.  His face looked partially melted, one eye dribbling down towards his upper lip.   “Hhhheeeeeelp mmmmeeeee,” he wailed.

“I don’t like this.”  Dril drew his scimitar and dagger.  “Be ready for any sign of—“

The dogs started barking loudly.  Dril turned just in time to see two soldiers erupt into a shower of tentacles, their upper bodies lost in the morass of yellow tendrils.  

“Trap!” shouted Beldin.  The dwarf pulled his axe from off of his back, just in time to hack away tentacles that speared toward his face.  

Vlad dove to the ground to avoid another forest of tentacles.  When he rolled to his feet, he held sword and shield before him.

Ilmarė drew her bow.  “Somebody might want to watch Suven,” she said.

Suven was hunched over.  Orgun took a tentative step toward him, hand outstretched.  Then Suven’s body reared backwards, and a shower of what looked like wet, dun-colored intestines blasted towards the Lieutenant.  

Ilmarė fired two arrows into the thing-that-was-Suven, but they disappeared into the morass of tentacles and limbs. 

One of the dogs yelped as it was lifted up and then smashed repeatedly into the ground.  The other dog continued to bark.

Vlad skidded backwards as more tentacles reached hungrily around his shield.  He hacked to his left and right, keeping them at bay but making little progress in harming the things.

Another dog yelped as tentacles snared it around its midsection.  With a loud crack, the dog stopped struggling.  Then, like a lover’s embrace, the tentacle began to pulse into the dog, spewing yellow tatters onto the animal’s corpse.

Beldin wasn’t much better off.  The dwarf blocked every attack and then hacked at each new tentacle that struck, but for every severed, wiggling extremity, a new one took its place.

Orgun struggled, his hands clawing desperately at his face.  He pleaded desperately with Vlad through his eyes alone, bulging in terror as the monster began pumping its own flesh into him.

“We’ve got to get to Suven!” shouted Vlad.  He redoubled his efforts, hacking back with more ferocity at one of the soldier-things.

Dril alone held his own against the remaining creature.  With the advantage of two blades, he became a whirling cyclone of steel, hacking limb after limb as the probing tentacles sought a weakness.  Dril slowly closed with the creature and then kneeled to the ground with both arms crossed.  He snapped his weapons apart, and in a clean scissoring motion, the tentacled thing slid into two separate sections of yellow entrails.  

Tentacles snaked around Dril’s head but snapped backwards in pain as Beldin hurled a throwing axe at the second thing.  

With the creature momentarily distracted, Vlad leaped forward and hacked the dripping umbilical of tentacles between Suven and Orgun.  Orgun fell back into the snow, his face indistinguishable from the entrails that engulfed him.

“Got it!” shouted Vlad over his shoulder.  “Ilmarė, we need your voice!”

But Ilmarė was silent, struggling mutely with yellow strands wrapped around her mouth and throat.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 6b – Going After Suven*

Suven’s tentacles had burrowed beneath the snow, only to spiral up around Ilmarė’s leg. It seemed completely disconnected from Suven itself, but then Vlad caught sight of a trail of yellow strands hanging limply from Suven’s torso. They began to pulse.

“No!” shouted Vlad.  He dropped his shield and grabbed Grungronazharr with both hands. With a mighty roar, he hacked downwards into the snow.  

He was rewarded with a gout of yellow ichor as the tentacles were severed. 

Dril and Beldin finished hacking the other soldier. 

“Beldin!” shouted Vlad.  “Let’s finish this thing off.  Dril, get those tentacles off of Ilmarė!”

Vlad turned as more tendrils sprang up.  With a mighty swing, he batted aside some of them as he closed on Suven, determined to make it pay.  Beldin stood beside him, stomping forward with each strike of his axe. 

Dril skidded over to Ilmarė.  The tentacles continued to write from her face, even severed from the creature.  For a moment, he froze.  “Oh man.”  

Then sliced across her mouth with his knife. Ilmarė’s mouth opened wide, and she gasped for air.  

Dril continued to slice, making short, precise cuts.  The beautiful elorii’s skin was mottled and purplish from lacerations, but she was alive.

He leaned down to brush back Ilmarė’s hair from her face.  “Are you all right?”

Ilmarė’s eyelids fluttered.  Then she began to twitch. 

“Uh, guys…” said Dril.

Vlad and Beldin were chopping up the former Suven, leaving nothing but a yellow stain in the snow.

Ilmarė’s body arched in pain.  “She’s going into convulsions!” shouted Dril. Ilmarė’s limbs flailed.

The dwarf stumped back over to Ilmarė.  “Put something in her teeth!”

“What?” asked Dril.

“I said put something in her teeth!  A belt, anything! She’ll swallow her tongue if you don’t!” 

Dril pulled one of the potion lanyards he wore across chest and tied it around Ilmarė’s mouth, effectively gagging her.

Vlad walked over, concerned and feeling helpless. Finally, the elorii’s convulsions subsided. 

Beldin pulled out a potion from his belt pouch.  “I was saving this for me, but she needs it more.” He nodded at Dril, who removed the lanyard from her mouth.  He poured the contents down Ilmarė’s throat.

“Will she be all right?” asked Vlad.

“She’ll live,” said Beldin.  “But I don’t think any of us will be all right after what we just saw.”

“I don’t mean to make things worse,” said Dril.  “But where’s Orgun’s body?”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 7 – Returning to Camp*

The camp was sullen and paranoid. Lieutenant Jandis, a nervous-looking soldier with a monocle, addressed the men. 

“Since the C-captain’s gone,” stuttered Lieutenant Jandis, “and I’m the ranking officer, I’m assuming command.”

Kham sat down at the table, watching the other soldiers stare at their feet. “What happened?”

“Something came in,” said Sergeant Messer.  “Came right through the exterior door.”  He pointed at the door that entered the mess hall.  “Took the Captain, and Privates Lilit, and Pivar.”

Silas stood next to Jandis, arms crossed.  Elise and Merkin stood behind him.

“It’s important we don’t close with the creature, whatever it is,” said Jandis.  “I want you to use crossbows only.”

“Are you crazy?” asked Sergeant Laskin.  

“What're we supposed to use,” said Sergeant Messer. “Harsh language?”

“My studies of the sample indicate that close contact with the creature or creatures might cause contamination,” said Silas.

Jandis put fists on his hips. “C-crossbows only. I want swords sheathed.”

Muttered curses rippled through the soldiers.  

Kham froze.  “Wait.  Did you say sample?  You dug up part of that thing under the ice?”

Silas’ eyes darted nervously.  “We found the corpse of the creature. I took it in for examination.”

Kham shook his head in disbelief.  “Checked in on it lately? If I were you, I’d double the guards at every opening and block that hole the thing made.  And nobody should be traveling alone, everyone in pairs.”

“Good idea.” Messer glared daggers at the wizard.  “I think Silas here is full of sh—“

Kham put one finger up.  “Shhh!  Do you hear that?”

“Hear what,” said Laskin.  

Then they all heard it.  The dogs in the distant kennel were barking like mad.  Then one of them howled.

Everyone turned to look at Lieutenant Jandis. “I want you men to…”

“Dogtown’s going nuts,” said Kham.  “I’ll check it out.” He kicked off of the table and ran past Jandis before he could finish his order.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 8 – Dog House*

Kham made his way down the freezing corridor. The wind soughed loudly overhead.

He reached the kennel door. There was a savage outpouring of noise from within. With one pistol out, he unlatched the door.

Just as he opened the door, a dog’s corpse, as if jettisoned from a cannon, knocked him off his feet. Growls, barks, snarls, and screeching assailed his ears.

Jandis jogged up behind Kham.

“I don't know what the hell's in there,” said Kham, “but it's weird and pissed off, whatever it is. We need reinforcements.  Get the men!”

Jandis held both hands over his ears.  “What?”

“It’s killing the dogs!” shouted Kham.  “Get the wizard over here and as many men as you can find!”

The fight inside the kennel raged on.

“Uh…we should…” Jandis blinked, totally losing his cool.

Kham bit his lip.  He took out another pistol with his free hand and cocked it. 

“Kham,” said Jandis, “What the hell are you…”

Kham undid the latch and entered the kennel.

The torches had been snuffed; it was pitch black. A tindertwig sizzled to life in Kham’s hand.  He threw it to the floor. 

The light found a mass of dogs in a wild melee in the corner. Barking mixed with hissing, gurgling, and screeching. Dogs were being hurled about and then charged back into the fray with a vengeance.

The tindertwig illuminated parts of some thing. It was a dog, but not quite. It struggled powerfully.  

Jandis poked his head into the blackness. “What's going on, damn it?”

Kham aimed both pistols. “I'm going to shoot.”

“No!” shouted Jandis. “Wait!”

From out of nowhere, a forest of yellow tentacles sprang up out of the dog.  The dog slowly rose up on its hind legs, becoming more humanoid.  It was wrapped in its own yellow tatters, its vaguely humanoid face glaring at him, its tentacles undulating in a wind that wasn’t there.  It extended a tendril.

The tentacle snaked upwards, but instead of striking at Kham, it doused the tindertwig.

“Jandis, you got the wizard?” shouted Kham. “Silas, get your ass in here!”

Soldiers charged into the room, crossbows at the ready.

“It’s gone.” Kham lowered his pistols. 

Those of the men that had gathered exhibit a pale and quiet uneasiness.

Silas, in silent awe, stood over the badly corpses of two interlocking dogs, that lay before him on the ground. They were connected as if they were one animal.  Odd yellow appendages, recoiled and withered, were wrapped grotesquely about both bodies. 

“All the dogs…they’re dead,” said Jandis faintly.

Kham holstered one of his pistols.  Then he took off his lenses with one hand and wiped his brow.  

 “I don’t understand.” Jandis shook his head.  “Why would it kill the dogs?  Why not go after us?”

“Maybe it don’t like dogs,” said Kham.

“No, it’s something else.” Silas started pacing. “Maybe they can smell it. If that’s true, it just destroyed the only means we have of detecting its presence.”

“All right,” said Kham. “This room is off limits.  Close it up and bar it.  Nobody comes in here anymore.  Althares knows the dogs won’t be needing it.” 

“It’s a good thing we have the other two dogs,” said Silas.  “When they come back with them we’ll have to put everyone to the test.”

Kham nodded mutely.

“Wait,” said Silas.  He counted heads.  “Someone’s missing.  Where are my apprentices?”

“Oh gods,” said Sergeant Messer.  “Elise!”  He ran out of the room.  Silas and the men followed behind them.

Jandis turned to look at Kham.  “You saw something.  You saw it, didn’t you?  What did it look like?”

Kham put his lenses back on.  “The King in Yellow.”


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 9 – Breakdown*

Everyone reached the mess hall simultaneously.  With the door unguarded, it was a simple matter for the returning search party to make it through the barriers.  Vlad and Beldin carried Ilmarė into the room.

“Where’s the dogs?” was the first thing Silas asked.

“Dead,” said Dril.  

“And Orgun?” asked Jandis.

“Dead,” said Dril.  “The dogs are dead.  Orgun’s dead.  Ilmarė’s lucky she’s alive.”  Dril drew his two blades.  “You’re not telling me everything, wizard.  Start talking.”

Silas sneered at him.  “What are you talking about?”

“For one, how long have you been here?”

“Months,” said Silas.  “It’s hard to tell, with the lack of any real day or night.”

“You know something about the creature under the ice, don’t you,” said Dril menacingly.

“If you mean to imply that I am somehow not to be trusted,” said Silas, “perhaps I should ask you the same question. Perhaps you didn’t actually defeat the creature after all.  Perhaps it’s one of you.”

Sergeants Calder and Yussik lined up behind Silas.  Some of the soldiers did likewise.  

“The dogs were our only chance of detecting the thing,” said Silas. “It’s convenient that our only means of uncovering the enemy have been eliminated.”

There was a quiet click as Kham raised his pistol and pointed it at Silas’ forehead.  “Why don’t you back down Silas.”

Silas had a wand out in a flash.  He pointed it at Kham’s forehead.  “Why don’t you put away your pistol, Altharian.”

“Now everyone calm down,” said Vlad.  “We don’t want to do anything hasty.”

“Let me know when you two are done spraying over your territory” came a faint female voice, “I think I have a solution to our dilemma.”

Everyone turned to look at the source. Ilmarė struggled to her feet, pale and drawn.  “I can summon a dog.  I can’t keep it here for long, but if Silas’ theory is true, it will be able to distinguish who is who.”

“It’s a trick,” said Silas.  “How do I know I can trust you?”

Just then, there was a muffled yelp on the other side of the door leading to the apprentices’ chambers.

Kham lowered his pistol.  Silas lowered his wand. All eyes focused on the door.  

“Let me out!” shouted Merkin. “Help me, it’s in here with me!”

“Help me!” shouted Elise at the same time.  

There was the sound of a vigorous scuffle.  Then it became deathly quiet. 

Sergeant Messer stepped forward.  “I’m going to go after Elise. If she’s alive, I’ll find her.”

“No, you’re not,” said Lieutenant Jandis.  “Last I checked, I’m still ranking officer here.”

Messer shrugged.  “Try to stop me.”  He yanked open the door.  The biting cold wind shrieked into the room.  The creature had torn open one of the outer doors, exposing the hallway to the elements.  Messer disappeared into the hallway.

“I’m going with him.” Kham holstered his pistols and stepped over to the doorway.

“Kham,” said Dril.  “You walk out that door and as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of those things.  We’ll shoot you on sight.”

Kham pulled up the collar of his overcoat.  “So shoot me then.”  Then he stepped into the whiteness beyond.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 10 – Snowstorm*

The snow was whipped into a vicious frenzy by the wind, turning everything completely white.  Kham was barely able to make out Messer in all the snow.

“Thanks for coming with me, Kham,” said Messer, his eyes scanning the endless horizon of white. “Why did you volunteer?”

“Let’s just say I’m a romantic at heart. I don’t suppose you know how to track?” asked Kham.

“Track?  I can’t even see the ground in all this snow!” Messer shouted back.  “Elise! Elise, are you out here?”

A distant blur resolved itself into the figure of a woman.  

“Elise?” asked Messer again.

“I’m here,” she replied.  “I ran out after that thing attacked me. It’s out here with us.”

“She’s lying!” came Merkin’s voice.  The rotund, bearded man stood on the other side of them, a few paces away.  “That thing’s not Elise.  It’s something else.”

“Aren’t either of you cold?” asked Kham.  “You’re not dressed for the weather.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Merkin.  “We’re wizards.  We prepared spells to protect us from the elements.”

Messer took a hesitant step towards Elise.

“Wait,” Kham whispered to Messer.  He handed the sergeant a vial.  “This is a healing potion.  Give it to Elise.”

The blowing snow mostly concealed Messer’s face, but Kham could make out his confused expression.  “Why?”

Kham whipped out two pistols and fired in each direction.

Merkin spun and collapsed, a red hole in his forehead.  Elise shrieked and fell backwards, clutching her shoulder.

“Are you mad?” She pointed at Kham. “Incendiares globus!” 

Kham dove to the side as a ball of superheated steam billowed around him.  The snowed immediately doused the flames, leaving trails of steam pirouetting up from the blasted ground. 

“Okay, okay, so that was a harsh way to test if you’re you,” said Kham, dusting himself off.  Despite her magical retaliation, he was relatively unharmed. He looked over at Merkin, who lay dead.  “I guessed wrong.”

“He was only trying to help,” said Messer.  He handed Elise the potion.  “Here, drink this.”

Elise reached out to take the potion, only to spew tentacles from her sleeve.  The tentacles enveloped Messer’s face.

“No!” shouted Kham.  He reached for two more pistols.

Snow started to fill the hole left by the ball of flames.  The thing that was once Elise was partially concealed by the precipitation. Yellow tentacles sprouted from behind her, billowing like fins in a strong current.

“You are the key, Kham,” she said.  There was a crunch, and Messer’s body was tossed in front of Kham, twisted into an unnatural angle.  “We will not forget you.”

Then she retreated into the storm.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 11 – Accusations*

The faintly luminescent hound sniffed at another of the men.  Its eyes sparkled with intelligence. It shook its head at Ilmarė in an unnerving imitation of a human.  

“I haven’t been able to summon anything on this plane,” said Silas.  “Your magic must be very powerful indeed.”

Ilmarė sneered up at Silas from her reading.  “Human cantrips are no match for the ancient ways.  That’s what got you into this trouble with Umor in the first place.”  

The men were lined up, each in turn being sniffed by the summoned hound.  Each man who passed inspection was separated to the other side of the mess hall.

“According to the Turner Codex, the portal out of this place is active every five days.” Ilmarė pointed at passage in the book. “And today’s the day. So perhaps we can use this ritual to escape.”

“The only people leaving this place are the ones we’re sure aren’t…infected,” said Dril.  He kept his blades out.  

“How do we know YOU’RE not infected?” asked Laskin.

“You don’t,” said Beldin.  “You’ll just have to trust us.”

Silas sat across from Ilmarė.  “What is involved in this ritual?”

The elorii’s brow furrowed.  Her features were still lacerated by the creature’s attack.  “According to the Codex, we need to ring the monoliths in flame.  Then, we throw pieces of silver into the fire while everyone chants an incantation.  A border around the monoliths is then traced with a sword of pure metal, and an enchanted item is placed in the center. The magic should do it.”

With four men to go, the dog abruptly disappeared. It was Lieutenant Jandis and three Privates.

Dril stepped over to them.  “Okay.  You four are going to be separated out.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jandis.  “I’m the Lieutenant, you can’t—“

“Yes, we can,” said Vlad.  The other soldiers stood behind their Milandisian kinsman. “We’ll keep you in the armory for now.  It’s just a temporary precaution until Ilmarė can summon another hound.”

Jandis looked around for support.  

“Wait a minute,” said one of the other soldiers.  “I don’t want to be locked in the armory with him!  What if he’s one of those things?”

“We’ll be right outside,” said Beldin. He wasn’t very convincing.

The men grudgingly shuffled inside. Dril sheathed his blades.

Silas turned back to Ilmarė.  “I think we can gather up the supplies.”

“There’s just one thing,” added Ilmarė.  “It takes five minutes for the incantation, and several more for the chant by everyone else.  The more people we have chanting, the faster the portal will open.”

“If there’s going to be an ambush, that would be when it will attack.”  Dril closed the door to the armory as Jandis and the other men filed past him.  Then he and Beldin pushed a table against the door.

Vlad addressed the remaining men.  “Calder, I want you to dig up as much oil as you can find.  Yusik, gather up all the silver pieces amongst the men and put it in a sack.”  He dug into his own pockets and tossed a handful of coins onto the table.  “Sergeants, your men are always in sight of each other.  Hop to, soldiers!”

Glad to have something to do, the two groups scattered.

“What about the sword of pure metal and the enchanted item?” asked Sergeant Laskin.

“We’ll take care of that.”  Beldin leaned on the door where Jandis and his men were temporarily imprisoned, arms crossed.

Kham stepped into the room.  He dropped Messer’s corpse onto the ground.  “Elise was one of them.  Merkin and Messer are dead.”

“Damn it, Kham!” shouted Dril.  “I told you that if you came back, we would assume you’re—“

Then the armory exploded.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 12 – Fire*

“The still!” shouted Sergeant Laskin. “We must have forgotten to empty it!”

The explosion hurled Beldin and Dril to the ground.  The table that blocked the doorway was in splinters.  Flames licked into the mess hall.

“The men!” Beldin struggled to his feet and made for the armory despite the blaze.

Dril put one hand on his shoulder. “Nobody can survive that. Nobody human, anyway.”

Calder’s men returned with oil from all of the lamps. 

“What the hell happened?” asked Sergeant Calder.

“We’re leaving!” shouted Vlad. “Yusik, do you have the silver?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Yusik held up two sacks full of silver coins.

Vlad turned back to the men.  “All right.  Gather up all the supplies you can.  We are abandoning ship.  Let’s show these outlanders what the Green Griffins can do! Move people, move!” He pulled a cloak over his shoulders. 

Dril stepped over to Kham, both hands on the hilts of his blades.  “I find it odd that everyone was killed out there except you.”

Kham turned his back on him as the men made their way to the exit.  “Me too,” was all he said.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 13a – The Ritual*

The nine granite monoliths jutted up out of the snow like fingers, stabbing heavenwards in accusation for a past transgression. The obelisks were in a V-shaped formation, with the men lined up nervously in the center.

Ilmarė stood at the front next to Silas.  She held the book up in front of him, but refused to let him hold it.  The elorii didn’t trust a human, much less a human wizard, to such an important task.

Vlad nodded to Yusik.  “Sergeant Yusik.  Spread the oil!”

Yusik and his men ran around the perimeter of the obelisks, pouring oil in a circle as they did so.

“Think this’ll work?” asked Beldin.

“It better.” Dril finished loading his rifle.  He cocked it and scanned the horizon.

Sounds of drawn steel and cranked crossbows mingled with the roaring of the wind.  Weird howls and barks echoed in the distance. 

Silas began chanting, reading from the Codex.  It sounded like gibberish to the men, an ancient tongue only Silas, Ilmarė, and Kham understood.

"I imprison thee with enough fire to encircle thine nine gates,” read Ilmarė, “lest ye forget who defeated thee." 

She pointed.  Silas muttered “sempiternus flamma” and a flame appeared in his hand.  He tossed it to the ground, igniting the oil.  It spread in a roaring circle around them.

“Here they come!” shouted Vlad.  “Get ready!”

Six figures of what were once men stumbled and writhed through the snow. There was Orgun and Penser, Yellow tentacles waved like excited hairs on skin. Mingled with the men were four of the dogs. Wet tendrils trailed from their sides. But by far the most terrifying thing was a towering, yellow man-like form, all sloughing flesh, crusted over by frost. 

“Sweet Althares, it’s actually gotten bigger,” gasped Kham.

“What the hell is that?” asked Dril.

Crossbows snapped and bolts sang out, whistling through the air.

“Hold the line!” shouted Vlad.  “Nothing gets in!”

"I imprison thee with ten pounds of silver,” read Ilmarė, “lest ye forget who kept thee."

She pointed again.  Silas muttered, “magis attrecto” and pointed. One of the bags of silver coins was launched into the air, spraying its contents as it circled halfway around the obelisks.

The dogs leaped through the flames, snarling and squealing.  Beldin hacked one down with his axe.

Tentacles shot through the smoke and snow, yanking a man off his feet and beyond the safety of the pillars.  He screamed hideously.

“Faster with that silver!” shouted Ilmarė.

Vlad blocked a gush of yellow tentacles with his shield.  He hacked blindly outwards and, judging by its shriek, connected with something.  

“I’m trying!” Silas snapped back. He pointed at another bag of coins.  It spun in a circle, showering silver into the flames.

Dril took aim with his rifle. 

Two shots rang out, but they weren’t from Dril.

One of the humanoid things fell backwards, the ruins of its head splattered across the snow.  

“Why aren’t you taking the shot?” Kham asked Dril as he drew two more pistols.

“It’s gone.”  Dril scanned back and forth, staring down the sight of his rifle. “I lost track of it.”

Another one of the dogs yelped.  Somebody screamed.  It was meant with an inhuman wail.

“Then spoke Illiir,” read Ilmarė. She addressed the men.  “All together now: We praise his name, stilling the song of the birds and quieting the call of the beasts, even stopping the breath of the air. “

“The King in Yellow?” asked Kham.  “It’s huge!  Even with all the smoke and snow, where could it possibly go?”

The men repeated as one: “We praise his name, stilling the song of the birds and quieting the call of the beasts, even stopping the breath of the air. “

The ground rumbled beneath them.

“Oh, no,” said Dril.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Part 13b – The Ritual*

The ground exploded upwards as a shower of yellow tentacles flailed everywhere. Men screamed as they were tossed effortlessly into the air.  

“Stop that thing!” shouted Vlad.  

A strand of yellow shot out around Laskin’s throat.  It whip-snapped him across one of the monoliths, smearing the remains of his head across the granite like chalk.

Beldin roared and struck backwards with his axe, hacking one of the creatures off at the knees.  It fell to the ground face first.

"Keep chanting!” shouted Ilmarė. “I imprison thee with ensorcelled metal,” she read, “lest ye forget who bound thee!" 

Silas pointed at Vlad’s dagger.  He traced a circle around the perimeter and the dagger cut a path, slicing through snow, smoke, and corpses.

Kham fired two more pistols at the King in Yellow.  The blasts barely penetrated. Yellow tentacles slapped him sideways, like a parent chastising a child. He stumbled in the snow.

Dril took aim at the King in Yellow’s head and fired.  The shot penetrated, but tentacles spiraled up to reform the hooded head again. A tentacle speared through Dril’s thigh.  With a yelp, he fell to one knee.

Soldiers were dying everywhere.  Tentacles snapped necks, speared through their torsos; those were the lucky ones.  Vicious, fanged mouths appeared at the ends of yellow tendrils, gnawing on men’s faces. 

Vlad skidded in front of Ilmarė just as more tentacles snapped at her.  He bashed them aside.  “Keep going!” he shouted.

"I imprison thee with a pure blade,” read Ilmarė, ”lest ye forget who wounded thee!" She turned to Silas.  “Silas, now!”

“But it’s in the way!”

“Silas! NOW!”

Silas pointed at the blade and lifted it high in the air.  The hooded figure’s head snapped upwards.

Silas pointed back down and the dagger fell, fell, fell gaining speed in its descent.  It plunged into the head of the King in Yellow and went deeper still, burrowing to its core.

“We praise his name,” shouted Ilmarė, “roaring!”

Then all became white.


----------



## talien

*Cold Visitor: Conclusion*

The void around Kham lurched sickeningly, and he wondered if Ilmarė did the right thing. But then, quite clearly, he heard Corinalous’s voice chanting, and it was as if a hand had grabbed him by his throat and pulled him forward. There was a piercing pain in his chest at the sudden transition between planes. Then he felt the wound begin to heal, and he opened his eyes to the familiar, stable world he knew. 

Across the clearing, Corinalous held Fleshripper high over his head, chanting hoarsely. Suddenly, he plunged the sword down into the flame of the campfire, which swelled upward as if to consume the blade. Within the fire, a vaguely manlike form took shape. 

Turning, Corinalous plunged the sword beneath the waters of the bubbling spring, where its form was surrounded by another humanoid shape, this one made of water. Corinalous raised the blade on high, where a swift, cool wind sprang up from nowhere to swirl around the blade. Finally, a massive, rocky shape rose up from the earth in front of Corinalous, and the Altherian grasps Fleshripper in both hands as he prepared to smash the sword, now glowing a deep crimson color, against the creature. 

Then he stopped. "I spent my life bound to this blade, and I never knew the power it held. Now…" His jaw trembled, and he looks at you for the first time since your return. "I can't…I can't—" Abruptly, his face twists into a grimace of raw hatred, and from his mouth came the cruel, vicious voice of the King in Yellow. “We are awakened now! It is too late! Your quest is for NOTHING! Now, feel the wrath of Divine Vengeance!” 

Corinalous pointed the sword at Kham and began chanting again, growling the words of his spell through clenched teeth. Somewhere in his eyes, Kham could see a deep well of terror and remorse, but the rest of Corinalous’ mind and body were overcome with rage. 

Kham reflexively drew his pistols, then lowered them.  “Dad!” he shouted helplessly. 

Vlad shook off the malaise of the planar travel.  “That’s it,” he snarled.  “I’m going to kill him.”  The being composed of roaring flames danced toward him.

“He’s possessed!” shouted Beldin.  He was stopped short before the elemental composed of rocks and dirt rumbled up to him.

“Child of Osalian, I don’t wish to harm you.”  Ilmarė drew her thin blade as a dust devil swirled around her.   “But I will if I must.”

Dril frantically reloaded his pistol as the elemental composed of water sloshed towards him.  “What am I supposed to do to this thing, mop it up?”

With a roar, Vlad charged the fire elemental head on.  It hissed and crackled in response.  “My blade is called Forged in Fire,” shouted Vlad as he plunged Grungronazharr into the elemental’s torso, “for a reason!”  The fire elemental sputtered and disappeared.

Beldin blocked a teeth-rattling blow from the earth elemental.  He hacked back at it with his axe, but was only rewarded with a small rock fall.  He hooked the axe onto his belt and drew a morning star instead.  

“Let’s see how you like good old-fashioned dwarven stonemasonry!” Beldin grabbed the hilt of his morning star with both hands and slammed downwards onto what might have been the head of the elemental, if it had such things.  A crack formed.  Beldin slammed into it with his shield and the elemental exploded into dust around him.

Ilmarė whirled backwards as the air lifted up bits of sharp rock, slicing at her.  Her thinblade smacked one of the pieces of debris out of the air.  Then another.  Soon the stinging attacks became a frenzied onslaught, and the sounds of stone on metal were replaced with Ilmarė hissing through her teeth in pain.

“I can’t,” said Kham. His pistols were lifeless in his hands.  “I won’t…”

Dril fired.  The blast opened a whole in the water elemental, but it filled in immediately.  With a surge, it splashed over him, engulfing his head in water.  He reached for his blades.

Vlad swung his sword towards Corinalous’ head, but the older man was filled with an unnatural vigor.  Fleshripper jerked in front of Corinalous to protect him. The two were locked in a deadly embrace, snarling at each other.  Then Corinalous effortlessly shoved Vlad backwards.

Beldin stepped in front of him.  With a mighty swing of his morning star he batted Fleshripper from Corinalous’ hands. The blade skittered to the ground.

“No!” shrieked Corinalous.

Beldin held the spiked weapon over his head for a brief instant.  Then he brought the morning star down on Fleshripper with all his might.  

A dark crack appeared in the center of the blade, slowly radiating outwards like a spider web, before Fleshripper shattered into a hundred pieces. 

Suddenly the sky, already dark with the gathering dusk, became pitch black. There was a sound like rushing wind, and shapes rose forth from the shattered sword: ghostly images of dwarves, hobgoblins, and men, all of them twisted, black and evil. And in the center of them all was Ophelia val’Tensen. She snarled in hatred.  

“Do you think it matters?” said Ophelia. “You have freed us, but I will not go to the Judgment of Nier alone! You will be destroyed, all of you!” The shadowy forces surrounding them draw their weapons. 

Then the last rays of the setting sun broke through the gathering clouds. The shadows from Fleshripper halted in mid-stride.  One by one, they were sucked away, screaming as they went. 

Ophelia val’Tensen looked about in bewilderment, until her eyes fixed on the sun, focusing on something invisible. “No! No! My Lord, I have served you faithfully! Illiir have mercy! Illiir, please!” 

A burst of brilliant light enveloped her, and she was gone.  Then the fragments of the sword glowed with light, and one by one the souls of the forces of good within the blade strode forth. Each one looked towards the sun, their expressions content as one by one they marched into oblivion. 

Finally Medricas val’Assante appeared. “I thank you, my friends. The curse is broken, and all of us can finally go home to the paradise of the gods. But I sense that you have much yet to do in the land of the living. Thus, I leave you a gift. Use it to fight evil wherever you may find it.” A shimmering light flowed from Medricas and enveloped each of the companions. 

Then he turned to gaze at Nubuto, who appeared at his side, blinking in the fading light. The paladin nodded to the dwarf, and the two of them faded away as the sun finally set. 

Corinalous looked down at the shattered pieces of the sword. Kham, tears staining his face, wordlessly embraced him in a hug.

When they finally separated, Corinalous addressed the others. “My friends, I cannot thank you—or apologize—enough. All of Onara owes you thanks. I have lost many years of my life to the power of that blade. But at least I shall lose no more. There is not enough in the world to repay you, but I will do what I can." 

“The curse is finally broken,” said Beldin with a satisfied smile.  “How do you feel, Kham?”

Kham blinked back tears as he looked up at the sky.  “Whole,” he said.  “Whole and clean.”

A single snowflake slowly floated to the ground.  Kham put his tongue out to catch it.

“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.  “It never snows in Freeport.”

Kham took a swig of wine laced with ghoul juice.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 31: Vengeance in Freeport - Introduction*

This is an adventure set in the Freeport setting, "Black Sails Over Freeport," written by William Simoni and “Vengeance in Freeport” by Bret Boyd. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I’ve always felt that players get far too comfortable with adventures, just assuming that monsters sit around in dungeons waiting to die. I figure that as PCs get higher level, they should be reminded that they’ve made enemies, and that those enemies have enough resources to hurt their family and friends.

This session reminded our heroes just how vulnerable they really are. It took some doing though; Vengeance in Freeport is more interested in having PCs solve a mystery than putting them in any danger, so I amped things up a bit.  And if you see real-world parallels to what’s happening in Freeport (questions of “offshoring” and terrorism), that’s not an accident. What might surprise you is just how the PCs pick sides. 

In the midst of all the bombing, politics heat up between orcs and humans.  And finally, we find out just what happened when Captain Scarbelly didn’t deliver that staff of defense to Kenzil the Evoker.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Prologue*

A lone elorii stood at the edge of a cliff, peering down at the boiling ocean that glistened in the light of the rising sun.  Osalian was displeased.

But it was not Osalian’s choice to make.  Ilmarė held the painstakingly crafted brooch up to the sunlight.  It was engraved with the sign of Belisarda, vaguely reminiscent of a weeping willow tree with a hovering dot at its apex.  

She looked at the acorn-like mark on the back of her hand. Cael Greybeard, the Ardakene elorii, had taught her much about working with humans, defending them, even loving them.  She was here to continue his legacy. 

The sign needed to be charged.  But was Belisarda listening?  Did she even care?

Ilmarė was about to find out.  Like a child throwing a tantrum, she began the Unspeakable Oath.

The elorii lifted her chin.  “Expectant we raise our muzzles to smell the air for hatred.”

Ilmarė cocked her head as if listening. “We strain our ears for the sound of love.”

She listened for a long moment.  Nothing.

“We, the mute,” Ilmarė put one hand over her mouth, “the lame,” she held an open palm over her other wrist, “the stupid,” she moved her open palm to her forehead, “the dull, the weak…”

Ilmarė covered both of her eyes with her hands. “We turn our blind eyes to the hunter's killer.”

Something was happening.  The brooch clasped to her breast began to pulse.

Ilmarė lifted her hands into the air. “We raise our hands and voices in prayers for an answer.”

The Belisardan Sign flashed an angry red.  

And Ilmarė got her answer.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 1 – Maps and Legends*

The Milandisian known as Vlad Martell craned his neck to look out the doorway of Egil’s office. “Do you think they have anything useful on the sextant?”

“This is the Temple of Althares.” Kham, dressed in a new blue overcoat and wearing green lenses, sat in front of Egil’s desk, tapping his foot. “If anyone knows anything about the sextant, it’s the Brothers of Althares.”

Dril paced behind Kham.  “We’re wasting time.” He was dressed in a plain brown cloak, with the hood pushed back to reveal his dusky features. “The Cult of Leviathan is much more nimble than the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

“Please,” Kham rubbed his forehead, “don’t bring them up again.”

“Ilmarė is working on a defense against the Unspeakable One’s minions that she gleaned from the Turner Codex.” Beldin the dwarf stroked his beard.  “If they ever do get organized, we’ll be ready.”

Egil finally returned with Brother Norton, a nervous-looking monk with spectacles.

Egil collapsed into his seat behind the desk and steepled his fingers.  “Brother Norton,” he said. “Please explain.”

Norton cleared his throat.  “Another group of rough-looking types came in just recently, looking for a magical sextant. Well…” he paused, uncertain.  “Not at first.  They started off looking in the city directory and in Freeport history for someone named…oh dear, I don’t quite recall.  Carrey?  Carvey?  Carney?  It started with a ‘c’, I’m sure of that.  Anyway, after an hour or so of digging, they came back and said they couldn’t find what they wanted.  So they asked for books on magical sextants.  I sent them to the Magick Items and Artefackts section.”

Egil turned to Kham, embarrassed.  “It seems Brother Norton confused the group with yours, and thus gave them full access.  They did leave a donation in doubloons, but didn’t speak with any of our brothers for very long.”

“You didn’t get a look at them?” asked Dril.

Egil frowned at Norton.  “Brother Norton’s eye was much more focused on the gold they left.  You see, we’re building a portal so that we can transport books to the mainland if need be.  The library’s not finished yet; these things are very costly.” Egil lowered his voice. “Please don’t share that with anyone else.  It’s mean to be a backup plan in case the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign attacks again.”

“Sure,” said Kham.  “Did they leave anything that might identify them?  Anything at all?”

“We found this note hanging out of one of the volumes taken off the shelves.”  Brother Norton handed Kham a note.

Kham scanned it.  “So they couldn’t find the Cycle of R’lyeh.”

“We don’t have any book by that name,” said Egil.  “It was on a list of censored books one hundred and fifty years ago, and The Cycle of R’lyeh was banned outright for reasons pertaining to the continued Security and Divine Favor of the Island.”

“What kind of security?” asked Dril with a frown.

“So secure that we have no idea,” said Egil.  “I’m sorry, but it happened before my time here.”

“The only place that might have a copy,” says Brother Norton, “are private book collections or antiquarian book shops.”

Kham hopped to his feet.  “It just so happens that I know an antiquarian.”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 2 – The Orc Who Would Be King*

“Are you sure we can trust Elijah Quelch?”

Quelch had directed them to the Temple of Cadic.  It was easily spotted several blocks away, with a peak crafted to look like a crow’s nest that rose high above the surrounding buildings.  A huge Jolly Roger was fixed to a wrought-iron spike at its peak.  

Kham shrugged at Dril’s question.  “Falthar hates the guy, but Quelch is the most knowledgeable of that kind.  Trust me, if there was anyone else Falthar could have recommended, he would have. If he directed us here, I believe him.”

“Kham’s got a lot of friends in Freeport,” said Vlad.

The outlines of the building became visible—a cylinder of roughly hewn stone gone green and white with lichen.  As they walked across the wooden dock that led to the door, the temple’s doors opened and a crowd trampled across the dock.

“Hey, manflesh!” shouted a guttural voice. “Wake up! No seaweed god will protect you from t' Bloody Vengeance!”

“And a lot of enemies,” added Sebastian.  

When Kham turned around, he found an angry, hulking one-legged orc in a captain’s coat, with an eye patch and a strange bird on his shoulder.  Several orcs dressed in red chain shirts with longswords surrounded him, equally angry.  

“Scarbelly,” said Kham through clenched teeth.  “What the hell is he doing here?”

“That’s right, manflesh,” sneered the orc known as Captain Scarbelly. “You’re weak. Cadic be a fool’s god.”

“Listen you no good greenskin,” snarled Kham, “get off of our island!  Stop taking our jobs!”

Several of the humans cheered.  Sebastian took a step back. 

“Thin's be goin' t' change around here when I’m in charge!” shouted Scarbelly.

“In charge?” Kham guffawed.  “You couldn’t take charge of your own boat.  Where is it anyway? Maybe you left it with your eye and leg!”

“T' Bloody Vengeance? I crossed Kenzil t' Evoker and survived, fool. I’m that tough, and I’m tough enough t' take over YER island. This island be ours by blood!”

“Filthy liar!” spat Kham.

Vlad and Beldin flanked either side of Kham.  Other humans, many of them sailors, pressed around them, shouting and waving their fists.

“I be descended from Sea Lord Drac’s bloodline, and I have proof!” shouted Scarbelly. “Proof t' Captains’ Council can’t ignore for long!”

One of the many human hands raised a rotten-looking tomato.  

“Milton Drac forced himself on a helpless orc lass, me mother. Drac port her with but two thin's: a magical sextant and fake promises o' puny human love!”

Sebastian pointed and whispered. “Magis attrecto.”

The tomato flew into the air, only to hover to a complete stop. Then it sped off in the direction of the ocean.

There was a moment of stunned silence.  Then Scarbelly let out a bellowing chortle.  “Ye see? I’m protected! Even Cadic know that humans should bow t' orc sovereignty!”

“Do you even know what that word means?” shouted Kham.

But the psychological battle was won.  The crowd slunk away, uncertain as to exactly what they had witnessed but not wanting to stick around to find out. Even the orcs left, reveling in their victory with hoots and hollers.

Dril slunk back out of the crowd.

“Where were you?” asked Vlad.

“Someone was paying very close attention to Scarbelly.” Dril look over his shoulder.  “Something strange is going on.”

“Real observant,” said Kham.  “Everyone was looking at Scarbelly, thanks to what I’m guessing was Sebastian’s magic.”

Sebastian coughed.  “That wasn’t the intended effect.  I was just trying to avoid another riot.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “Trying to keep the peace in Freeport?  Those orcs deserve to be smacked around.”

“You really don’t like them, huh?” asked Vlad.

“They’re ugly, stupid, and a drain on the economy. Orcs work for dirt and they’re putting deserving humans out of jobs. Come on, let’s go inside and see what Cadic’s faithful have on the Cycle of R’lyeh.” Kham rustled past them into the temple.

Dril lingered outside, watching the citizens of Freeport resume their daily grind of working, shilling, swindling, and drinking.

Vlad paused as the others followed Kham.  “Coming?”

Dril slowly nodded.  “He really hates orcs.”

“Who, Kham?” Vlad sighed.  “I don’t think he likes anybody anymore, not even himself. I take it you don’t share his views?”

Dril wrapped his cloak tightly around him as a chill wind blew through Freeport.  “There was a time when I would have agreed with the val.  But now…now I’m not so sure.” Then he went inside to join the others.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3a - The Temple of Cadic*

The room was as cold as night in the northern seas.  Friezes and mosaics covered the walls—scenes of plundered ships aflame, treasure being buried on tropical beaches, cold justice meted out to the disgraced or the betrayed.  

“Well, this is different,” said Dril.

From above there was a cold, rusty creak.  Beldin looked up

The whole ceiling was lined with nets, ropes and chains, like the mast of a sailing ship. On the ground, pews dominated the room; about thirty feet before the end, there was a raised platform decorated with nautical paraphernalia—a captain’s wheel, a walking plank.  Above them all hung the focus of the room: a golden skull and crossbones superimposed over two crossed swords. Fires smoldered in the empty sockets.

“Cadic’s a…different kind of god,” said Kham with a smirk.  

There was a scuffling sound from behind the altar and a deep, whiskeyed voice called out, “Visitors, praise be Cadic! What wind brin's ye aboard? Lookin' for a blessin', be ye? Perhaps ye be sailin’ out soon, for I do smell t' sea about ye?”

A looming figure staggered out of the shadows, muscled and weather-beaten, dressed in captain’s gear—a knee length coat and tricorner hat—with a gold hoop in one ear.  He was missing one leg and walked with a crutch. 

“Me name be Father Peligro—but ye may call me Peg-Leg.”  

Sebastian crossed his arms.  “Peg-Leg, we are looking for a book known as the Cycle of R’lyeh.  Our contacts indicated you might know something about it.”

Peg-Leg clomped his way over to them. “Aye, R’lyeh, that name be old…many stories about that name…I credit none o' them, meself.”

Dril sneered.  “He’s lying.”

“Then perhaps you know of a magical sextant?” asked Sebastian, rapidly losing his patience. “It’s got something to do with the island of R’lyeh.”

“Aye, thar be many relics, many magic items…but I do not recognize this one, me hearties.”

Kham took out his pistols.  “I don’t care if you’re a priest.  You need to stop—“

Just then, the doors burst open.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3b - The Temple of Cadic*

Two orcs, dressed in the same red chain shirts as members of the Bloody Vengeance, raced down the center aisle, waving their cutlasses and howling like all of hell was behind them.  Additional duos crash through each of the temple’s four windows.

“What perfect timing!” shouted Kham.  He wheeled to train his pistols on two incoming orcs.  “I’ve been looking to bag me some greenskins.”  He fired two pistols, downing two of the orcs.

“Vindicatio manus!” said Scarbelly.

Vlad charged at Captain Scarbelly, only to have a magical force obstruct his path.  Magical sparks met the edge of his blade as he tested its resilience again and again.

“Since when does Scarbelly cast spells?” asked Dril to no one in particular.

“He doesn’t,” said Vlad.  “Or at least, he didn’t.” 

Scarbelly charged through the middle of the pews, two orcs flanking his side.  They rushed towards Peg-Leg.

“Don’t you move!” Kham dropped his spent pistols and pointed two more at Peg-Leg.  “For all we know, you put them up to this?”

“Me?” shouted Peg-Leg.  “Are ye mad? They’re attackin' me home!”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” said Kham.  He trained one of the pistols on the advancing Scarbelly.  

Scarbelly skidded to a halt.  He unfurled a scroll and read it. “Ignifer murus!”

A wall of flames sprang up, bisecting the temple in half.  Vlad, Sebastian, and Beldin were trapped on the other side. The scorching flames drove them back and even managed to ignite one of the orcs, who ran screaming from the temple.

“Okay.” Kham spun to aim both pistols at Scarbelly.  “Now the Scarbelly I know NEVER did that.”

“Finally!” shouted Peg-Leg.  He pointed at the wall of flames.  “Cadic will not tolerate such desecration!”

The flames went out.

Kham lowered his two pistols in disbelief.  “Remind me to stop making fun of Cadic.” 

Next to Peg-Leg, Dril was engaged in a vicious battle with one of the orcs.  He parried an axe blow that should have shattered his scimitar. It was impossible…unless the orc wasn’t wielding an axe at all.

“They’re not orcs!” shouted Dril. “They’re cloaked by an illusion!”

Peg-Leg pointed at another cluster of orcs.  “And now for t' rest o' ye—“

The faux-Scarbelly pointed at Peg-Leg. “Caecitas!”

“Me good eye!” Peg-Leg fell backwards into the small pool that served as an altar to Cadic, hands clutching his face.

Kham fired twice, but the pistol shots were deflected off of the glowing shield of force that surrounded Scarbelly.  “Okay, Talon, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Kham reached behind him and whipped out the scimitar that had been holstered across his back.  

The impostor roared a challenge.  He raised his axe defiantly.

Kham’s blade wrenched itself almost painfully out of his hand as it moved of its own accord.  The blade dragged him upwards, easily blocking the illusionary orc’s blow.  With a flick of his wrist, a bloody gash opened in the orc’s chest. A man in a hooded robe fell to the ground, dead.

When Kham looked up, all the other cultists were dead too.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 3c - The Temple of Cadic*

After dispelling the magic that blinded him, Father Peg-Leg took a look at the dead bodies. He shook his head.

“This be terrible and strange,” he said.  “Ye have convinced me, with yer blood and steel and t' flesh ye have hewn before me that you be true. Somethin' wicked and wild be risin' in this world.” He lifted one of the cultists’ hands and pointed to the design on the palm.  It was a tentacled head surrounded by five stars. “If I didn’t see this mark with me own eaye, never would I credit all them old jack tar stories. Now I wonder…now I wonder just what we be up against!"

“Leviathan,” said Dril, glaring at Kham. “Told you.”

“There be stories…yar, stories that run aft t' t' foundin' o' this island…about a gang that bore this mark…t' wickedest cutthroats every t' sail t' oceans,” Peg-Leg rambled on, oblivious to the discussion around him. “T' Full-Fathom Five, they called themselves. Five wicked buccaneers who worshipped a devil so foul that Cadic had t' swab him from our memory—Leviathan, who rode upon a beast t' size o' this island….a kraken he called his own son. Together, they were t' wickedest scourge t' ever sail t' oceans. They would’ve overrun t' shippin' lanes, t' stories say, if Cadic hadn’t stopped their villainy. Now that I see this mark…now that I see what they was plannin' t' do…I can only wonder.

Sebastian cleared his throat.  “So, about that book…”

Peg-Legs scowled and looked keenly at Kham.  “Cadic has sent ye t' me on this blackest o' black days. Ye have done good for me. He must intend ye t' do more. T' knowledge ye seek resides with one man—Carthy. He be protected by Cadic. His line has lived in Freeport for these many years under a false name t' keep him hidden from t' world. I’ll tell ye where he lives. If he comes t' harm by yer hand, may Cadic strike ye went t' Davy Jones' locker and take me for chum in his heavenly oceans. But I truly believe ye be workin’ for me lord.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Kham.  “If I had a piece of eight for every time someone threatened to kill us, I’d be rich.”

“And then spend it all on booze and ghoul juice,” muttered Beldin.

“What?” asked Kham.  Beldin didn’t respond.

The priest gave Sebastian an address in the Merchant District, the ritzy section of town.  “Carthy lives thar under t' name Caleb Solomon.”

Sebastian put his gloved hands together and bowed.  “Thank you, Father Peg-Leg, for your help.”

Dril nudged one of the corpses.  “This raid won’t make Scarbelly look good.”

“How so?” asked Vlad.

“With the impostors attacking the Temple of Cadic, it looks like Scarbelly caused a riot and then they ambushed Father Peg-Leg.  Maybe we should alert the authorities.”

Kham stepped over the lead cultist’s body.  “I don’t see any impostors.  Just a bunch of dead orcs.”  Then he walked out of the temple.

“One more thin',” said Peg-Leg. “This man ye seek be protected by Cadic, but these blackguards be protected by someone too."


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 4 – The Terrible Old Man*

After a bit of searching, they found Carthy’s house.  It was a two-story affair at the end of a cul-de-sac, front by gates and a private garden.  

Sebastian stopped in mid-stride. “You feel that?” 

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “The throbbing headache?  Why yes, I feel that all the time.”

Sebastian shook his head.  “Not that.  I can feel…energy, surrounding that home.  It’s like a hand gently but insistently resisting our approach.”

“Perhaps that’s what Peg-Leg meant by Carthy being protected by Cadic,” said Dril.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t seem to be all that effective in stopping us.”  Kham walked right up to one of the guards.  “We’re here to see Carthy.”

“No Carthy here,” said the guard coolly.

“It’s about the Cycle of R’lyeh,” added Sebastian.  “Father Peg-Leg sent us to ask him about a sextant.”

The guard’s eyes widened.  He spun on one heel and disappeared into the house.

A few minutes later, the guard returned.  “Caleb will see you now.”

They were led through a high, clutter hall towards a door. Souvenirs of a life tied to the sea was everywhere: a captain’s wheel hung from the wall where other people might have a mirror, a fighting-net covered another wall section, and a harpoon and shark jaw sat above the doorway.  The whole place smelled of musty salt air. 

Inside, the comfortable, well-appointed sitting room contained numerous plush leather chairs and couches.  Bookcases ran along the walls in the room and a massive lacquered oak desk sat on one side.  The window behind the desk looked out into the backyard garden.

“Caleb will be right with you,” said the guard.  He closed the door behind him.

Kham flounced onto the couch and took out his wineskin.  

Sebastian walked over to the bookshelves. 

Kham shook his head.  “Not gonna be that easy.”

The dark-kin shrugged.  “It’s mostly nautical themes, but it seems Carthy has an interest in everything from philosophy to modern novels.”

Dril nodded at a picture that hung on the far side of the room, on the wall opposite Carthy’s desk.  “Take a look.”

The painting depicted a nautical scene; some kind of ceremony on the deck of a ship at nighttime.  The ship’s crew stood around a lighted circle.  They looked suspiciously at the two illuminated figures.  One of them was obviously a ship’s captain; he looked very upright and warlike in admiral’s uniform.  The other wore dark robes and a stern expression on his face, as he handed something to the ship’s captain.  

Sebastian squinted.  “The banner reads: Victorie Affured.”

“There’s another one over here,” said Vlad. He pointed a painting that hung on the wall adjacent to Carthy’s desk

The painting depicted a striking woman in a full-on pirate outfit; she was tall, confident, and had dark features.  She looked stiff and unnatural in the pose, but her face still conveyed arrogance and fire.

The door opened and a tall man entered, wearing a navy-blue dressing gown with a crest over his heart and a cravat around his neck.  His thing hair had gone gray, but his face and hands were wrinkled and permanently browned from the salt air.  He moved with a cane.  And yet, there was a sense of strange vitality coming from him, as if he were a lot stronger than he looked.

Carthy sat down at his desk.  “So what’s all this about R’lyeh?”

Sebastian leaned forward.  “I’ll come straight to the point.  The Temple of Cadic was attacked by the Cult of Leviathan.  We were looking for the Cycle of R’lyeh, but Father Peg-Leg directed us to you.”

A pall came over the old man’s face.  

“Many years ago my…family,” he spoke in a halting voice, choosing his word very carefully, “swore an oath to Cadic and the Lords of Freeport.  We did the city a great service, but bound ourselves to silence about I in return for the protection of the Sea Lord and the god he served. I can tell you that the men you fought in the temple serve the…powers against which my family performed this…services—this sacrifice.”

Carthy swiveled his chair so that it faced the painting of the pirate woman.  Then he lowered his face into his hands.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Kham took a swig from his wineskin and cleared his throat.

“Looks like you’ve got quite a lass up there,” he said nonchalantly.  Sebastian shot him a glance but Kham put one hand up.

Glad for the excuse to talk about something else, Carthy wiped the back of his eyes with one sleeve.  “Ah yes.  That’s Black Jenny Ramsey.”

“She looks like a handful,” said Kham with a grin.

“She was,” Carthy managed a weak smile back at him.  “I was a rival for her affections.  But I lost her to a greater love because…well, I’d rather not talk about it.”

Kham nodded.  “I understand.”

“About this R’lyeh…” added Sebastian.

“R’lyeh had something to do with my family’s great sacrifice at the sea battle,” said Carthy.  “Leviathan was involved.  It is not of this world.”

“We figured,” said Dril. “What about the sextant? The figure in the picture bears a striking resemblance to you.”

“The sextant,” said Carthy.  “Aye, the sextant.  Yes, that’s my ancestor handing over the sextant; it did indeed prove crucial to our victory.  As far as I know, Hell’s Triangle and R’lyeh are just sailor’s stories.”

“My father, Corinalous val’Abebi, thinks that R’lyeh has something to do with a portal—“

Carthy’s eyes widened.  “If R’lyeh returns, it means the Full-Fathom Five have somehow regrouped outside of Arcanis.  They were some of the fiercest pirates that ever sailed.  If the shadow of Leviathan has fallen over Freeport…why, anyone who traveled there would be in grave peril!”

“Comes with the territory,” grunted Beldin.

“Right, we’ve got all that.”  Dril was obviously losing his patience.  “Do you have the sextant?”

Carthy shook his head.  “As far as I know, it remains in the hands of the Sea Lord, stored in the headquarters of the Captains’ Council.  My family gave it to the Sea Lord almost 150 years ago.”  There was a sudden change in the man’s expression that became unwelcome.  “I think our business is done here gentlemen.  Please leave.”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5a - Mishap at The Last Resort*

Touldrix Neraldin rolled over to Kham’s side of the bed to face him.  The blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty would have been typical of Kham’s harem of willing lasses if it weren’t for the fact that she had pointed ears and slightly webbed hands.  She was undir, thus her allegiance to the Undir Benevolent Association.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way,” she said in a perky voice, “but shouldn’t you be with your father?”

Kham swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a bottle of wine.  He poured himself a glass.  “And since when did you become my mother?”

Touldrix suppressed a giggle.  “After what we just did, I should hope we’re not related.”  Her expression turned somber.  “But seriously, you haven’t talked to your father in years.  Shouldn’t you spend more time with him?”

Kham emptied the glass.  “Shouldn’t you be more worried about orcs?  Don’t forget what I told you to pass on to Finn.”

Touldrix wrapped the sheet around her and sat up.  “That they’re trying to take over Freeport?  I think he knows that already.”

“The evidence, woman!” Kham poured himself another glass. “The orcs just attacked a Temple of Cadic.  They’re demonstrating in the streets.  What more excuse could the Sea Lord’s Guard possibly need—“

“You act like Finn runs the Sea Lord’s Guard,” Touldrix said quietly.

“Well, doesn’t he?”

“It’s not that simple.  Besides, my boss has to consider every possibility.  Getting Scarbelly arrested is just one of them.  Until Scarbelly comes up with this proof he keeps talking about, I’d say he’s not much of a threat.  A rabble-rouser, but not much of a threat.”

“I didn’t think Finn paid you to think.” Kham shrugged on his pants.  “I’ve got to go meet somebody.”  He walked over to Touldrix and kissed her on the forehead.  “I’ll see you later.” Then he left.

Touldrix’s eyes filled with tears.  “Finn pays me to do a lot of things,” she said quietly to herself.  Then she took a sip from half-empty bottle of wine Kham left behind.

A half-second later she spat out its contents.  “What the hell does he mix this stuff with?”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5b - Mishap at The Last Resort*

They regrouped at the Last Resort, recovering from its injuries from the month before like a grizzled old adventurer.  Some of the tables and chairs were unfinished, but there was room enough to sit and eat.  Bobbin Brandydale’s business would recover so long as there was a place for the lonely and the cheerful to buy a drink.

Dril pounded the table in frustration. “Nobody knows anything about the damned sextant!”

Behind them, a courier called out for Bobbin with a gift-wrapped package in his hands.

“Not even Reed,” said Sebastian, thinking of his friend at the Hall of Records.  Reed had been considerably unhappy to see the val and dark-kin together again.  “And that’s saying something.”

A barmaid walked over to receive the package.  Bobbin was busy.

“Still, he did prove of some use,” added Beldin. “Someone erased all records of R’lyeh and the sextant from official records.”

The courier thanked the barmaid and left.  

“But it’s missing,” said Beldin.  He took a long slurp from his mug.  “Entered by Sea Lord Cromey, checked out by nobody, apparently.”

The barmaid undid the bow, only to discover a jeweled jar inside with five gems in its lid.

“I asked Baldric to see if he could use his influence with the Captains’ Council to learn more,” said Kham.  “He said he would meet us here.”

Dril blinked.  “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Vlad.

Dril held up one finger for silence.  They all listened.

Vlad slowly turned to trace the sound. “It sounds like—” 

“Ticking!” shouted Beldin.  “DOWN!”

The ensuing explosion drowned out his command.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 5c - Mishap at The Last Resort*

The Last Resort’s interior was a disaster area.  The location where the bomb exploded was no more than a smoking black crater. 

Vlad stood with Grungronazharr before him.  The scorch marks from the blast stopped at his feet, leaving an unharmed “V” behind the big Milandisian.  

Heavy smoke hung, inside making vision difficult and breathing hazardous. Wood debris that used to be tables and chairs lay scattered along the east wall along with dozens corpses. There were low moans coming from everywhere.

“Dril’s hurt!” shouted Sebastian.  He dragged the Altherian out from beneath a pile of rubble.  “Help me!”

Vlad’s ears were still ringing from the explosion.  He shook it off and started helping pull Dril out of what was left of the Last Resort.

Over a dozen guardsmen and two sergeants arrive and begin helping people out. 

Baldric arrived in full pirate gear. He arrived with Kham at his side. 

“It be good t' see ye all again, although I wish it were under different circumstances," he said grimly.  “I was walkin' with Kham t' The Last Resort when I saw t' explosion a block away."

One of the sergeants got Baldric’s attention.  The two move off to the side so the sergeant could whisper some words to the Captain.  The sergeant handed him a blackened, ivory-toned clay jar, obviously broken in the explosion.

Baldric turned back to Sebastian.  “They just discovered this jar in t' rubble. Take a look at this.”  He held up the bottom of the jar, where a charred marking is visible.

“That’s a marking of the school of evocation,” said Sebastian

“That’s Xangy’s symbol.”  Kham dusted off his coat. “He’s a local sculptor. Makes clay pots that are all the rage in the Merchant District.”

“I fear that this explosion might be t' first o' many attacks on t' city. I will offer you a thousand gold doubloons t' see t' investigation t' its conclusion.” 

Baldric leaned close to Kham.  He handed over the jar fragment, and whispered, “Please look into this with discretion in mind. Freeport has been through a lot in t' past few months and t' last thin' t' citizens need be another conspiracy.”

“We’re all about discretion,” said Kham with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 6 – Xangy’s Pottery Shop*

Dril joined them at Xangy’s pottery shop, healed by Father Peg-Leg.  The shop was a small stone building located at the northern edge of the Eastern District where it met Drac’s End. 

Light spilled out of the one-story building’s windows from a lantern hanging inside. Once they reached the door, a “Closed” sign was clearly visible hanging from the open door’s frame. 

“Well, looks like their closed,” said Kham with a smirk.  “I guess we should just go home.”

There was a loud grunt just before a piece of pottery flies from the side and shattered inside the doorway, its fragments tumbling in all directions.

“That’s all the excuse I need.”  Vlad barreled into the shop, sword drawn.

The shop’s interior had obviously seen better days. Toppled pottery, some broken, some not, lay haphazardly on the shelves that stand against all four walls. A long table dominated the center of the room where lumps of clay, sculpting tools, and a basin of water resided. Beside the table were a stool and a stained pottery wheel.  The person who threw the ceramic object was seated on the stool, his back to the entrance, as he cleaned out broken shards from beneath a shelf.

Before Vlad could get his attention, the young man swivels to face him. He had short black hair and a faint goatee. 

With a sneer he said, “Since you obviously can’t read, let me speak plainly— we’re closed.” The youth repeated the last two words in Elorii and Solani for emphasis before dumping his collected fragments into a wooden trough.

Kham sniffed.  “That’s nice. You’re Rufus’ boy, right? I think you can stay open for a couple more minutes.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” said the young man.  “We’re closed.”

Sebastian put his palms together and pointed his fingertips in the shopkeeper’s direction.  “We are here on Council business.”  He pulled a broken piece of pottery out of the voluminous folds of his cloak.  “It this yours?”

“For the last time,” said the young man, voice rising, “we are—“

Kham kicked over one of the large pots.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

The young man’s eyes went wide.  “I said…we’re…”

Kham took out a pistol and aimed it at his head.  “A little louder.  I keep hearing that you’re closed, but that can’t be right, can it?”

Sebastian put one finger on Kham’s arm.  “Kham.  Please.”

The shopkeeper swallowed hard. Kham shrugged and put away his pistol.

Sebastian gave him a pained, look-what-I-have-to-put-up-with smile.  “My name’s Sebastian.  What’s yours?”

“Leukien.  Leukien Xangy.”

“Nice to meet you Leukien,” said Sebastian.  “We were recently the victims of a bombing.  Some people were killed, some were very hurt.  So you’ll have to excuse Kham if he’s upset.  Many peoples’ lives are at stake.  Do you understand?”

Leukien nodded, all traces of his irritable nature replaced with fear.

“Good.” Sebastian displayed the “X” markings on the fragment. “Do you know what this sign means?”

Leukien nodded again.  “Yeah, it’s one of my dad’s pieces. Just look at any of his work and somewhere on the bottom are those four X’s. He said they represent the four generations of Xangy potters that came before him.”

“Where’s your dad?” asked Kham.

“He was killed a few weeks ago.” Leukien’s eyebrows knitted together.  “He died from a lightning blast. Took him full in the chest, though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Never thought I’d be glad my mom’s blind; the body wasn’t pretty.”

Kham’s posture sagged.  He wasn’t expecting that.  “Sorry to hear that,” he said quietly.  Then he wandered off to examine some of the unbroken pottery.

“What happened here?” asked Beldin. 

“There was a break-in last night. Found the place in shambles this morning. Decided to walk off some of my anger before coming in to clean up tonight. Funny thing is, I can’t find that anything’s missing; just a lot of items shoved around. Didn’t even check the back room yet. It was probably those thrice-damned orcs.”

Sebastian and Dril exchanged glances.  “What orcs?”

“Four of the stinky things were in here yesterday looking for my dad. When I told them he died, I thought they’d leave. Nope. They started to snoop around and even tried to go into the back room there.” Leukien gestured behind him. “When I told them to take a walk, one of ‘em drew some kinda fancy grooved dagger and pointed it at me. One of his buddies said I “wasn’t worth it” and then they all left.”

“Do you have any idea who your father might have crafted this jar for?” asked Sebastian.

“Nope. He made several jars of that style—some with tops, some without.” Leukien thought for a moment. “But it is possible he recorded the sale and its buyer in the accounts ledger.”

“Can we see it?”

“Sure.” Leukien rummaged around in the back room, only to return with a large book.  “Take a look.”  He handed it to Sebastian.

Sebastian cleared out some pottery fragments and lay the book down.  A piece of one of the open pages had been crudely torn from the ledger. 

“The date indicates the entry is from a few weeks ago,” said Sebastian.  “Interesting.”

Dril pointed at the remaining part of the entry.  “Kenzil: Eight ja—“ was all it read. “Remember anything about that sale?”

Leukien thought for a moment. “Yeah, I was here for that. An order for eight jars with jeweled tops. I recall the buyer was a black-robed man with long silver beard braided into two lengths. He seemed pretty nervous, his eyes darting back and forth from my dad to the front door. I figured him for some eccentric coot who wanted jars to keep cremated relatives in.”

“If it’s Kenzil the Evoker, I know where to find him,” said Sebastian. 

“If there are seven more of those things…” said Kham.

They all ran for the door.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 7a – Home of Kenzil the Evoker*

The home of Kenzil was a one-story structure that sat just north of the Cluster in Drac’s End. 

“Kenzil was a powerful evoker.”  Sebastian led them at a brisk pace toward Kenzil’s abode.  “He decided to retire from adventuring and make his home in Freeport near the Cluster.”

“All you wizards know each other?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head.  “I was born with my talents.  Kenzil learned his.  In fact, he taught arcana and basic sciences at the Freeport Institute for many years. Here we are.”

Kham walked up to the door. He reached for the lock and then pushed hesitantly on the door.  “It’s open.”

There was a chorus of blades being unsheathed as they all drew their weapons.  Kham stepped inside.

On the east wall was a fireplace that sported an array of figurines on its mantle. A square wooden table with four chairs sat in front of the fireplace. At left center of the room lay an impressively woven rug resembling an exploding red-orange fireball. The only other feature was a bowl of incredibly dried fruit on the table.

“Doesn’t look like he was a very successful adventurer,” said Vlad. 

They split up and began poking around. 

“Kenzil wasn’t interested in the accumulation of baubles,” said Sebastian.  

“Except staves of defense,” added Dril.

Beldin entered what must have been Kenzil’s bedroom. 

A closet stood on the north wall of the bedroom. Sandals and boots, one pair each, rested on the floor of the closet beside empty pouches. The bed itself was curtained. 

As Beldin drew near the canopy bed with its drawn blue curtains, he could barely discern a figure laying beyond them along with a putrid odor. The humanoid shape did not move at his approach.

The dwarf swallowed hard and pushed back the curtains with his axe.

Drawing back the curtain revealed a human in black robes with a long twin-braided silver beard. A dried stain crept out from beneath the man’s left breast to cascade down the side of the bed. 

“Guys,” said Beldin. “I think I found Kenzil.”

The others joined him.  

Sebastian wrinkled his nose.   “I’m not sure which is worse: the smell or the decayed state of the body.”

“One thing’s for sure,” said Dril.  “Kenzil’s dead.  So somebody else sent those packages.”

Just then, they heard a loud noise downstairs.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 7b – Home of Kenzil the Evoker*

Vlad poked his head down through the trap door.  Then he slowly made his way down the ladder.  The room was barely lit by light from above.

Beldin and Sebastian followed.  

“Kenzil did a lot of experimenting in his career,” said the dark-kin. The basement was a testament to this nature of “try and see” in its myriad of beakers, vials, weights, components, fluids, and instruments. 

Two long wooden tables divided the basement into three defined aisles. 

“Somebody light a torch,” said Vlad.  “I can barely see.”

“Humans,” snorted Beldin.  He reached for the torch, only to bump into something big and hairy.

Beldin shouted and engaged a creature that was all teeth and claws. It reared up on its hind legs and bellowed. 

Vlad stepped forward to assist, freezing as another creature blocked his path.  “Finally,” said Vlad with a grin.  His blind-fighting training was going to come in handy.

A shrieking wind picked up, drowning out all conversation.

Dril stood warily by the ladder, scimitar and dagger at the ready.  “I can’t see anything!” he shouted in panic.

Kham stuck his head down through the trapdoor.  “Guys?  What’s going on down here?” He blinked, peering into the swirling darkness.  “Did somebody shout ‘bear’?”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 7c – Home of Kenzil the Evoker*

Beldin knew how to deal with bears.  Oh yes, he knew how to deal with them.

The summoned beast swiped at him, but it was confined in the basement.  The dwarf rolled to the side and hacked at its flank.  The bear bellowed in pain.

With another swing of his axe, the beast collapsed to the ground.  Then he went after his real target, the three orcs in the far corner.

Crossbow bolts clanged off of his shield as he charged forward.  Beldin lifted his axe to slash one of the orcs still fumbling his crossbow…only to have the weapon slip right out of his grasp, coated in magical grease.

“What the…” Beldin reached for his morningstar, but was forced to hop backwards as the orc reached his cutlass first. “There’s a wizard here!” shouted Beldin.  “Invisible!”

Dril and Vlad hacked down the other summoned bear.  A wall of wind bisected the room, making it practically impossible to shout to those near the ladder.  

“Orcs,” spat Kham.  He drew two pistols out of the folds of his overcoat. “Figures they’d behind the bombs.”

Sebastian stood by, uncertain what to do next. “I’m not so sure,” he muttered to himself.  “Something’s not right.”

“For once we agree.”  Kham fired both pistols.  The wall of wind diverted the bullets, firing them off in the far corners of the basement.

“Radius Incensio!”

Spiraling rays of searing energy sliced in Kham.  “Sarish’s ass,” he cursed. “That hurt!” 

The spell had been cast by an orc with pronounced ears. He had a crooked smile and a similar posture. A dagger, scrolls, and a potion vial hung from his beltline; a crossbow and bolts were carried snugly on his back. He had a large, floppy cap that partially concealed his glittering green eyes.

“There you are!” shouted Sebastian.  

The orc was reaching for something in the folds of his vest.

“I didn’t want to have to do this.”  Sebastian pointed. “Radius Incensio!”

The same dancing fire arced from Sebastian to the orc.  He fell, his wand discharging upwards towards the ceiling. A strand of webbing spurted upwards ineffectively.

“Good shot,” said Kham.  “If he got off that stupid spell we’d be down here forev—“

The room was filled with billowing mist.  Dril and Vlad swore.

Seconds later, they were surrounded by wall-to-wall webbing.

“Sarish’s ass!” shouted Kham. “There were two invisible spell casters!”

Sebastian’s lips became a thin line.  “There’s only one way to clear a room full of webs…”

Kham looked at him sideways.  “Wait a minute, maybe we should—.”

“Incendiaries globus!” shouted Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 7d – Home of Kenzil the Evoker*

The room was completely devoid of anything flammable.  Tables, chairs, and orc were burned to a crisp.

“I yield!” said a particularly ugly orc hag.  Her skin seemed to always be glistening, though with sea spray or oily skin it was difficult to tell. Big purple eyes and a gap-toothed grin drank in every detail of her surroundings. 

Dril patted one of his arms down to put out his burning sleeve.  Then he walked over to Sebastian. They were nose to nose when Dril pulled his hood back.

“I’ve been blown up twice today,” he said in a carefully controlled voice. “I appreciate the effort.  But if you do that again, so help me Althares I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Sebastian swallowed and took a step backwards.

His point made, Dril returned to the orc shaman.

“What were you doing here?” asked Vlad.

“Trying to save Freeport, fools!  You’ve doomed us all!”

“Doomed us?” asked Beldin.  His beard was scorched from Sebastian’s fire magic.  “As I recall, you summoned two bears to attack us.”

“The bears would not have attacked if you didn’t attack first!” snarled the orc. 

“Filthy greenskins!” shouted Kham.

“Stupid humans!” shouted the orc.

“Enough,” said Sebastian.  “My name is Sebastian.” He bowed slightly in the orc’s direction.  “What’s yours?”

“Prolk,” the orc shaman said.  “Let me tend to Rask.” She nodded at the badly burned and unconscious orc in the floppy hat.  “He may still live yet.”

Kham was about to say something.  “Leave her be,” said Sebastian.  

After a few moments of chanting over Rask, Prolk turned back towards them. “Thank you.”  She seemed relieved, an emotion they weren’t used to seeing on an orc’s fanged maw. “He will live.  But I fear it is too late.”

“Too late for what?” asked Dril.

“We found this.” Prolk handed a crumpled note to Sebastian. 

The dark-kin scanned it.  “I don’t know who this Edwards is, but he told someone named Coombs to move the bombs to a warehouse.”

“But we don’t know where the warehouse is!” exclaimed Vlad.

“I do.”  There was a twinkle in Prolk’s eye.  “Let me go and I will tell you.”

Kham patted the pistols hidden beneath his overcoat. “Why don’t I shoot it out of you instead?”

Sebastian stepped in front of Kham and handed the note back to Prolk.  “Tell Scarbelly to meet us at the warehouse.  We will need his extra muscle.”

Prolk explained where the warehouse was located. Then she tilted her head, peering at Sebastian curiously.  “You are part-human, yes?”

Sebastian frowned.  “Unfortunately.”

“Yes,” said Prolk.  “Unfortunately.  You are an honorable man, Sebastian Arnyal. We will not forget.”

“I’m not helping no dirty orcs,” sneered Kham.

“Nobody’s asking you,” said Dril.  “We’re helping Freeport. Let’s go, we haven’t much time.”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 8 – Ztorage*

The building known as Ztorage was a massive structure made of brick and formed by magic.  Two large iron double doors were its only entrance.

Kham paced in front of the building.  “So much for your backup,” he said to Sebastian.  “Just like I thought, Scarbelly’s a no-show.  You can’t depend on those damn pigs.”

“He’ll come,” said Sebastian.  “Perhaps he has run into some trouble.”

“I’m not waiting any longer.” Kham nodded to Vlad. “Vlad?”  

Vlad hurled a grappling hook up the side of the building.  The rope uncoiled several loops.  Kham tugged on it.  

When he was confident that the rope would hold, he began scaling the sheer wall. 

“I’d better go with him,” said Dril.  He followed after Kham.

Once they were on the roof, Kham ran to and fro, testing the tiles underfoot.  

“Do you think this is a good idea?” asked Dril.

“I keep having flashbacks to the last time Sebastian didn’t help us enter a warehouse,” said Kham.  “And I’m sure as hell not waiting for orcs to bail us out.”  He reached down and pulled back a small door that blended in with the tile.  “Perfect.”

“What?”

“It looks like a winch,” said Kham.  He began turning it.

The winch slowly cranked open a large section of the roof to a cacophony of shrieking metal and jangling chains.

“So much for the element of surprise,” muttered Dril. 

Kham peered down into the darkness.  Everburning torches cast a flickering green light along the walls, every twenty feet or so. 

The val began fiddling with another rope.  “That’s about a seventy foot drop, right?”

“What are you doing?” asked Dril.

Kham had one end tied to the winch.  The other was tied to his waist.  He handed Dril a length of rope.  “Hold onto this. I’m going in.”   

“Are you insane?  You don’t know what’s down there!”

Kham didn’t respond.  He had already plunged headlong into the darkness.


----------



## Napftor

Great stuff, Mike.  Can't wait to see what's waiting in the warehouse for the heroes.


----------



## talien

Thanks, it's been so long since someone posted a comment I was starting to get worried. 

All I have to say about what's coming up next is...Kham should have listened to Dril.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 9 – Main Floor*

A giant robed figure lumbered stiffly from the shadows as Kham landed on his feet. 

The greenish haze from the nearest torch allowed a quick glimpse inside its hood. The ghastly visage that greeted Kham’s hasty glance made him wish he hadn’t bothered: beneath the hood was half a human and half an orc face stitched together crosswise running from one ear across the top lip and ending at the jawbone. 

It advanced towards him with a guttural moan. 

“Ah crap,” muttered Kham.  He turned and sliced the rope with his scimitar.  He shouted up towards Dril, whose head was a mere silhouette above. “I’m opening the door!” 

A meaty fist pulverized the ground where Kham had landed.  He jogged backwards and then spun to sprint towards the double doors.

There was a groan to his right.  

“How many golems does this guy have?”

His answer came in the form of another fist barely missing his head.

“I’m in!” shouted Dril, closer to the ground this time.

Kham rolled to his feet with a dagger in his hands, its hilt splaying an octopus arms’ array of lock picks.  The other golem pounded towards him.

He fiddled with the lock.  “Come on, come on!”

There was a click.  Kham didn’t have time to verify his success.  Something big brushed his hair and smashed hard into the door just above his head.  It slammed outwards.

“Ow!” shouted Vlad on the other side.

Kham leaped and rolled as two huge fists smashed furrows into to the ground.  

Beldin and Vlad pounded into the warehouse.  Vlad was still rubbing his nose.  

Kham rolled to his left, but the golem kept tracking him.  He wasn’t accustomed to such relentless single-mindedness in an opponent. “Guys, do something!”

There was a powerful explosion, and then Vlad and Beldin were trapped like Xerxes had once been, encased in bubbles of force.

“Sarish’s ass, not again!”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 10 – The Vaults*

Kham skidded into a storage room and slammed the door closed.  It was a flimsy wooden door.  

WHAM!  The wood creaked and splintered as a fist-sized dent appeared.

Kham pushed a large crate in front of the door.

WHAM! The golem’s fist penetrated the door.  Through it, Kham could see signs of combat taking place.  

He was running out of options.  Kham dove behind crates and hid.

WHAM! The door fell off its hinges.  The golem took a step forward, then hesitated.  It wheeled around, an axe jutting from the back of its head.

Scarbelly roared a challenge.  “That’s right!  There’s more where that came from!”

Sebastian pointed at the masked, midnight-cloaked figure that had thrown the grenade. Vlad and Beldin were helpless, trapped by magical spheres of force.  “Radius Incensio!”

Fiery races sliced into the cloaked figure.  Bloody Vengeance soldiers unleashed a volley from their crossbows, peppering him with bolts.

Two more bears appeared, momentarily distracting the golems from their targets.  The figure disappeared with a puff of smoke.

“Run, coward!” shouted Scarbelly.  He yanked his axe out of the back of the golem, who swung around in confusion.  “I’ll make quick work o' your rag dolls!” 

Scarbelly hacked hard at the golem’s left ankle.  It snapped off, tripping the thing.  

As the golem fell to the ground, orcs descended upon it, hacking and roaring.  Their ferocity was such that Sebastian took an involuntary step back.

The remaining flesh golem grabbed both bears by their necks and discarded them aside without effort.  Prolk and Sebastian looked up at the looming shadow of the thing as it raised its fists…

The angry retort of Dril’s rifle sang out.  What had once been the golem’s head exploded into its component parts. Orc and dark-kin were showered with brittle flesh and thread.

“Thanks,” said Sebastian. 

“Come on!” shouted Scarbelly, his rage only temporarily abated.  “Coombs has got t' have a vault around here somewhere!”

Kham peeked timidly out of the room where he had been hiding.  “So we won?”

Sebastian glowered at him.  “Thanks to Scarbelly and the orcs of the Bloody Vengeance.”

The val dusted himself off and ignored the comment.  Dril gave him a welcome excuse by waving a piece of parchment.

“I found this on the floor.” Dril read it out loud. “It reads from left to right: three, five, seven, and two.”

“That’s a combination,” said Sebastian.  “Let’s go stop Scarbelly before he gets us all killed.”

Kham turned to Beldin and Vlad, standing helplessly in their own personal bubbles.  “You guys, uh…stay here.”


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 11 – Storage*

They entered what looked like a maintenance chamber. Sewing supplies sat next to a bucket of dirty water in one corner.  Across the way, was a sealed iron door.  The stone blocks surrounding it were marked with Yellow Signs in odd patterns. They were grouped into clusters of one, two, three, and four on the left, five and six above, and seven to ten on the right. 

Scarbelly clomped over to glare at it.  “Prolk? Can you open this?”

Prolk shook her head.  “My magic is not powerful enough.”

Scarbelly glared at Kham with his good eye.  “If I had Rask with me we could do it. How about you, devil spawn?”

Sebastian blinked.  “N-no, my magic doesn’t work that way. But if those Signs are any indication, we have proof that the Cult of Leviathan and the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign are working together.”

“It’s obviously a combination. Give me that!” Kham yanked the piece of paper away from Dril.  He strode past Scarbelly to the door.  “I’ll show you greenskins how humans open doors.”

Scarbelly leaned on his greataxe and waited.

“Don’t you find it convenient that Coombs would drop the combination to his lock?” asked Dril.

“Shh!” hissed Kham.  “Adults are working.”

The soft yellow glow of the signs suddenly turned violet after Kham touched the last stone. Then, a brilliant flash of light momentarily blinded them. 

As they blinked away the flash, another creature had joined them in the room. Blocking the archway was a mammoth-sized centipede. The vermin’s milky white skin emits a foul stench as it fixes Scarbelly with glowing red eyes.

“Stupid humans!” he bellowed.  Scarbelly hacked downwards on the centipede, chopping a piece of it off.  The centipede coiled around him and sank its mandibles into his torso. The two struggled in a battle to the death.

“I can’t get a shot!” said Dril.

“Me either.” Sebastian turned to Prolk. “Can you do anything?” 

“The Captain does not need my help,” said Prolk with a crooked grin.

Kham just crossed his arms and watched.  

Ichor sprayed upwards.  When it was over, Scarbelly stood victorious, his coat rent in several places.

“Told you…I…” his good eye fluttered.  Scarbelly fell to one knee.

Genuinely concerned, Prolk moved to his side.  “Captain, be still.”

“Poison,” said Scarbelly.  His speech was slurred.  “Stop the…bombs.” Then he fell face first, unconscious.

Kham touched the blocks again, this time reversing the combination.  The door slid open.  He stepped over Scarbelly’s body.

“Stupid humans,” muttered Prolk as Kham entered Coombs’ personal vault.

“I’m starting to agree with the orcs,” said Dril.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 12 – Personal Vault*

On the far side of the chamber, the green flames of an everburning torch illuminated a small mountain of coins piled against the wall.  Other items were scattered atop the coins as if tossed and left there, forgotten.

Sebastian grabbed a scroll case and unfurled it.  “Interesting.”  He tucked it into his belt.

Dril grabbed a strange-looking rod tipped with a ruby.  “Never seen this before,” he said. 

Sebastian peered over his shoulder.  “That’s a rod of flame absorption.” 

“Could come in handy.” Dril tucked it into his belt. 

Sebastian picked up a crystal blue wand.  “And if I’m reading this aura correctly, this is a wand of force.”

“And that does what, exactly?” asked Dril.

“Same thing the grenades did,” said Sebastian.  “Creates a sphere of force.”

Vlad and Beldin entered along with some of the other Bloody Vengeance orcs.  

“What took you guys so long?” asked Kham.

“Very funny.” Vlad jabbed a thumb at Prolk. “Ask them.”

Prolk lowered her head.  “We were…detained.  It appears there is a warrant out for the Captain’s arrest.  Something about assaulting a Temple of Cadic.”

Beldin slapped his forehead.  “Did they even ask Father Peg-Leg what happened?”

Prolk snorted.  “I do not think your Sea Lord’s Guard is interested in the truth.”

“Guys.” Kham’s voice was strained.  “We have a big problem.”  He had a note before him.

“What is it?” asked Dril.

“This is a detonation schedule,” said Kham. “And it’s got a lot of familiar places on it.” 

Everyone huddled around Kham to look. 

“They’re going after everybody!” shouted Dril.  “The Temples of Althares, Cadic, and Yarris are on there!”

“And Falthar’s Curios,” added Kham.

“Even the Courts,” said Sebastian.  “We’ve got to split up to stop them.”

“That’s not the worst part,” said Kham.  “Look at the time: they’re set to go off an hour from now!”

Everyone started arguing about where to go, who to go with, and how to stop the bombs.

“Everybody SHUT UP!” shouted Kham. “I know this city better than all of you combined.  Me and Beldin will go to the Undir Benevolent Association and Falthar’s Curios.  Dril and Vlad, you take the temples.  Sebastian, you take the Courts.  Move, people, MOVE!”

Kham sprinted out of the room.  For a moment, everyone was stunned. It was the first time they’d seen him actually motivated to action. 

Sebastian nodded to Prolk.  “I will need your assistance if we are to stop the bomb from reaching the Courts.”

The orcs looked sullen.  Prolk sniffed.  “We will go.  But not for them.” She nodded in the direction of the door where the others were filing out.  “But for you.”

A slow smile crept over Sebastian’s face.  “Thank you.”

“May I see the note?” asked Prolk.

Sebastian handed it to her.  Then he left the room.

“You two.” Prolk pointed at two of the Bloody Vengeance orcs.  “Take Captain Scarbelly back to The Hungry Vulture.  You three follow the dark-kin.” The orcs scurried to do the shaman’s bidding.

Prolk peered at the top of the note.  Two bombs had already been detonated.  One she recognized as The Last Resort. The other she did not.

“Who is C.V.?” she asked aloud.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 13 – The Temples*

“There!” shouted Dril. 

A woman of at least twenty winters was carrying a box into the Temple of Yarris.  Blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders.  She was dressed in leather armor with a short sword at her hip.

“I’m taking the shot!” shouted Vlad.  He kneeled and fired his crossbow.

The bolt slammed into the young woman.  She spun with a yelp and collapsed to the ground.

Dril tore the box open.  “It’s just fruit!” 

“Damn it!” shouted Vlad.  

“I’m going into the Temple of Althares.”  Dril was already running. “You take the Temple of Yarris!”

Dril knew something was wrong at the Temple of Althares because brothers were rushing past him in a panic. Egil stood alone at the front desk.

“I…I accidentally started a countdown,” said Egil, almost in a daze.  “Althares help us, we can’t get it out of here in time!”

The urn had three gems lit up.  Dril paced.  “You mentioned there’s a portal downstairs, right?”

“Yes, but there’s a library on the other side—“

“Activate it!”

“But if we do that it will destroy the books—“

“ACTIVATE IT NOW!”

Dril grabbed the urn and barreled down the steps, with Egil just barely ahead of him.  

Another gem lit up.  There was one unlit gem remaining. Egil waved his hands and a section of the wall glowed.

Dril chucked the urn into the glowing portal. 

“DOWN!” he shouted.

There was a strange sound, like that of an explosion in reverse.  Then flames blasted out of the portal.  

“We did it!” shouted Egil, tears in his eyes.  “We lost a lot of books, but the sacrifice was…where’d he go?”

Dril was already sprinting to the Temple of Cadic.

Vlad skidded into the long temple of Yarris.  An attractive woman with shoulder-length, dark-green hair, green eyes, and a tight-fitting, aqua-colored, floor-length gown stood with hands outstretched before a ticking urn.  Four of the five gems had lit up.

“I can’t hold it for long!” shrieked Sister Gwendolyn.  

Vlad ran up to the altar, scooped up the urn, and sprinted toward the exit.  He skidded to the waterfront and hurled it as hard as he could.  

He could see the last gem light up as it splashed into the water…

Then a massive explosion of sea foam blasted upwards, showering him.  Vlad gave a hoot of triumph.

Dril rushed into the Temple of Cadic. Father Peg-Leg Peligro stared intently at a ticking urn on the altar.  

“Well,” said Peg-Leg without looking up, “glad ye could make it.  I’ve been slowing it down, but I can’t stop it.”

The urn clicked and the fifth gem lit up.

The priests of Cadic were all gathered around Father Peg-Leg, a motley assortment of reformed cutthroats and criminals.  Their presence was a test of their loyalty; they refused to run in Peg-Leg’s time of need.

Dril pulled out the rod.  “I hope this works.”

Dril pointed the rod at the urn and closed his eyes.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 14 – Falthar’s Curios*

Falthar sat with one arm propping up his chin, staring at the ticking urn.  He tapped it with a wand every time the fifth gem lit up.  Then it went out, leaving just four lit gems.

“Fascinating,” he said.  “I think I can suppress it, but whoever made this bomb knew what he was doing.”

“That’s very nice,” said Kham.  “It’s a gift from Kenzil.  Or the Yellow Sign.  Look, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you test stuff like this all the time?”

“Yes.” Falthar’s eyes were wide.  “But if Kenzil made it…you don’t mess with Kenzil.”

Falthar tapped the urn with the wand.

“Well, the good news is he’s dead. The bad news is we’re going to join him in a second.”

“Well now that you’re here, if you can grab it and throw it fast into my testing room, that should contain the blast…for the most part.” 

”For the most part? What do you mean ‘for the most part’?”

Falthar tapped the urn with the wand. “Well, Kenzil was a powerful evoker.  My testing room was never meant for an explosion of that magnitude.  It might not hold.”

“How many charges does that wand have left?” asked Kham.

“Hmm, I lost track,” said Falthar.  “A couple.”

“You lost track?!  Okay, on three I’m going to chuck the urn into the room.  You close the door as fast as you can. Ready?”

“Wait, is that one, two, then you throw it in on three?  Or one, two, three and then you throw it?”

“ON three.  Ready?”

Falthar tapped the urn with the wand. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?”

“I think I ran out of charges.”

“THREE!” shouted Kham.  He scooped up the urn.  Falthar jogged past him as he wound up to throw it.

Falthar unlatched the door and yanked it open. 

The last gem lit up. 

Kham hurled the urn through the doorway just as Falthar slammed it shut. 

“Get down!” shouted Kham.

They both ducked as the concussive force blasted the door off its hinges.  It smashed through where Falthar had been standing with his wand only moments for, demolishing his counter and the front door. 

Falthar dusted himself off.  “Impressive.”

Kham stepped out into the daylight. “Beldin? Beldin!”

The dwarf was drenched in sweat.  He didn’t run as fast as the others.  

Beldin was down on one knee near a sewer grate.  

“Did you stop the other bomb in time?”

There was a terrific explosion and the sewer grate blasted upwards behind Beldin, hurtling high into the air.

“Never mind.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Part 15 – The Courts*

A gnome was ushered through the Courts portcullis with a package in his hands. He had a heavyset build and wore a bright blue cape. 

“Stop that man!” shouted Sebastian.

The Bloody Vengeance orcs raised their crossbows, but they were met by a dozen crossbows leveled back at them.

“Well, this is a nice tidy pack, innit guv?” asked Price.

“You have to let us in,” said Sebastian.  “That messenger must be stopped!”

“Aw now, don’t be like that.  If ya know what’s good fer ya I’d recommend ya distance yerself from ‘es folk ‘ere.  No good dirty greenskins.” Price yelled over his shoulder. “Looks like we gots ourselves the mad bombers!”

“What?” Prolk shouted back.  “Are you crazy?  Would we come to the Courts to deliver the bomb ourselves?”

“Ye look pretty stupid to me,” said Price.

“This is ridiculous.” Sebastian pulled out a wand.  

“Nah, ah, ah!” said Price, wagging a finger.  “No magic outta you mate or we’ll perforate ya.”

Sebastian pointed.  “Try.”  The beam from the wand sliced through the portcullis to encompass the gnome.  He was enfolded in a sphere of force.

“Fire!”

Crossbow bolts bounced off of a magical field surrounding Sebastian.

“That’s it,” said Price.  “Arrest ‘em.”

The guard lowered their crossbows and grabbed their pikes. They slowly advanced in a circle towards Sebastian and the orcs.

“That man in the sphere has a bomb, if you don’t stop him soon, there will be—“

There was a dull pop.  The sphere filled with bright red flames.  Then it was nothing but black smoke, a gigantic marble sitting in the center of the Courts.

“This was a mistake,” said Prolk.  “We should not have come.”

“I am a man of my word.” Sebastian unfurled the scroll.  “Hold onto me.”

The orcs grabbed hold of Sebastian’s robe as the guards advanced.  Then they disappeared.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance in Freeport: Conclusion*

They gathered again at what was left of The Last Resort, for lack of a better place to go. The mood was grim.

“Well, we stopped the bombs,” said Vlad.  “That counts for something, right?”

“Not all of them,” said Beldin.  He encompassed the ruins with a wave of his hand.  “There were two bombs that were set off.  The Last Resort was one of them.”

Sebastian sighed.  “Prolk and the Bloody Vengeance orcs got away, but they caught Scarbelly.  Judge McGowan sent him straight to the Hulks.”

“But they were trying to help!” shouted Dril, surprising himself with his frustration. 

“It’s not that simple,” said Beldin quietly.  “The orcs were seen threatening to retake the Sea Lord’s throne.  Then they attacked the Temple of Cadic.  The bombs were just an excuse to lock them up.”

“The orcs won’t take this well,” said Sebastian.  “There may be riots in the streets.”

“Where’s Kham?” asked Vlad.

“He was reading The Shipping News.” Beldin pointed at a folded up piece of parchment on the table.  “Then he just got up and left.  He didn’t say a word to anybody.”

Dril picked up the paper and read it.  Then he slowly turned it around. “Well, now we know what C.V. stood for on Coombs’ list,” he said.

The title read: “Fatal Explosion in Park – Two Men Sought”

“A gentleman was killed in a local park last night at shortly after six o’clock in the evening. The deceased was identified as Corinalous val’Abebi.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 32: A Walk in the Park - Introduction*

This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, “Tatters of the King” by Tim Wiseman, adapted for the Freeport setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This was the second part of a double-header game, so I kept it short. As usual in a Cthulhu adventure, the bad guy takes on the entire group because he’s the only spellcaster.  With the likes of Sebastian in the mix, that just simply wouldn’t do. So they ended up facing a high-level cultist and his two byakhee.  Because Quelch goes out “hunting” prepared, he had all his defensive spells at the ready.

What was surprising is that he nearly wiped the floor with the party. They made short work of the byakhee, only to fail save after save after save.  This is one of those rare cases were nature was on the players’ side; the battle took place on an icy bridge.  Sometimes, the most mundane things can tip the scales…


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Prologue*

The Last Resort was a mess.  It would take weeks to repair what had only just been recently put back together.  And this time, there were no high stakes gamblers to drop thousand-doubloon tips. Or Kham, for that matter.

“I haven’t seen Kham in days,” said Vlad.  “I’m starting to get worried.”

Bobbin Brandydale looked morose.  He had lost weight since the two incidents on his business.  Ironically, every attack brought more business, so he had the double-edged sword of prosperity and tragedy—at the same time. “Me too. It’s strange that he hasn’t even shown up to collect his father’s belongings.”

“We need to see his room, Bobbin,” said Dril in a stern voice.  “It could save his life.”

Bobbin put some mugs back on the wall behind him.  “I can’t do that.”

Dril sat on a barstool.  “Fine.  At least you can tell us what he was doing before he left.”

Bobbin thought for a moment.  “After he read the news about his father’s death, Kham was gone for a bit.  He came in real late; he was a mess, but that’s not unusual for him.  Then he received an unmarked letter. I left it under his door.”

“We need to see that note,” said Dril.

Bobbin sighed.  “It’s right here.”  He slapped the note down on the bar, but kept his hand on it.  “I don’t normally share this kind of stuff about Kham, but I’m worried about his safety.”

Dril slid the note out from Bobbin’s hand and opened it up to read. 

“We’re his friends, Bobbin,” said Vlad. “If he’s in trouble, we’ll get him out of it.”

Dril’s features darkened as he read further into the note.  “This is bad.”

“How bad?” asked Vlad.

“Real bad.  It’s from some W. Gresty, and mentions Elijah Quelch and Lucius Roby. It’s basically asking Kham to kill Quelch on the night of the full moon.”

“That’s tonight,” said Bobbin.

“That’s not all.  It ties Quelch to Coombs…”

Vlad nodded before Dril said more. “I’ll get the others.”


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Part 1 – Scurvytown, Quelch’s House*

It was close to midnight. The air was bitter and a frost covered the ground, an unheard of occurrence in tropical Freeport.  A bloated full moon hung yellow in the sky. 

Kham stood nonchalantly outside of Elijah Quelch’s residence.  He had spoken to local shopkeepers and neighbors to discover that the antiques dealer had lived there for about forty years.  He had no assistants or servants.  He was a recluse.  Only a single person entered in two days, and he left without a purchase.

The house was secure.  There was a locked and padlocked iron gate before the front door and iron bars guarded the ground and first floor windows.  The house fronted onto a busy road and backed onto an alley.  Its narrow back garden was overgrown and strewn with rubbish, and was enclosed by a seven-foot-high wall topped with broken glass set into cement. 

But this night something was different.  Quelch emerged from his house for the first time.  He was a big, fat man with long black hair and a full beard.  His age was difficult to guess. 

Kham followed him.

Quelch’s route was circuitous, leading to the waterways that dotted Freeport.  It was inky, straight, and lined with disused warehouses that were home to vagrants.  Quelch walked along slowly as he hunted for a victim.

After ten minutes, he found what he was looking for: a single sleeping man lying on a bridge.  He stood by the figure, his back to Kham, and began to chant an incantation.

As he started the spell, the air seemed to come alive.  The chant was a shrill, inhuman scream and came from all around.  The victim started to shout in agony, blaspheming, his whole body thrashing, but somehow he got to his feet.  

Quelch surged into him, slamming him back against the side of the bridge and holding him there off the ground, continuing to howl his chant.

The man weakened; he looked around desperately and spotted Kham.  “Help me!  He’s killing me!  Please!  For the—“ He was choked him off.

Quelch turned to see Kham, but finished his chant.  He threw the corpse effortlessly against the side of the bridge; it shattered into dust.

The silence squirmed.

Kham had both pistols out.  His speech was slurred, his reflexes slow.  “Where’s Coombs.” It was more of a threat than a question.

“I’d like to know myself,” snarled Quelch.  He shouted up at the moon. “Damn you, Coombs!  Where are you?  I need you!”

Kham pulled the trigger back on both pistols.  “You’re going to tell me.  Or I’m going to shoot it out of you.”

Quelch sneered.  “I really can’t rely on anyone these days. No matter.”  He blew a whistle that hung from around his throat.

And the inky night answered his call.


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Part 2a – The Encounter by the Canal*

Dril arrived just in time to see two byakhee crash to the ground. From the thorax stretched two wings, two limbs, and a head.  Two additionally clawed limbs grew from the forepart of the opisthosoma.  They screech and croaked as they landed, fixing Kham with terrible eyes.

Beldin charged at one of the things while Vlad attacked the other.  They had fought the creatures before. Both of the warriors kept their shields up to hold snapping jaws at bay.

Sebastian pointed at one of the byakhee. “Radius Incensio!”

Spiraling flames scorched the beast.  It reacted with an unnatural wail.

Kham dove and rolled past the two squawking monstrosities.  “I’m coming for you Quelch!” 

Quelch pointed at Kham. “Glacialis cursus!” 

“That won’t work on me!” Kham’s voice was slurred.  

“Kham!” shouted Dril.  “Wait!” He lowered to one knee, aimed, and fired his rifle at the byakhee fighting Beldin.   

Quelch pointed at Vlad next.  “Glacialis cursus!” 

Vlad’s eyes widened as he moved to take a step forward.  The byakhee nearest him launched itself into the air, bringing all of its claws to bear on his shield. “I can’t move my legs!” he shouted.

With one of its wings perforated by Dril’s shot, Beldin waited for the byakhee’s neck to dart forward. When it did, he hacked downwards, beheading it.

Dril reloaded his rifle.  “We’ve got to stop Kham before he gets to Quelch.”

“Stop Kham?” shouted Vlad.  “What about me?”

“No problem,” said Beldin.  He swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing the beast back.  

Quelch pointed at Beldin. “Fas: Fugio!” 

A slack-jawed expression overcame Beldin.  He turned and ran.

“Radius Incensio!” shouted Sebastian.  More blazing rays struck the remaining byakhee. It fell to the ground, a smoldering pile of melted flesh and bone.

“That’s enough from you, sorcerer,” said Quelch.  “Vomica del Puter Corpus!”

Sebastian gasped as his flesh began to rot.  He looked at his hands, watching his fingers peel and burst like rotten fruit. Sebastian struggled to contain his stomach as it groaned beneath his robes.  It split and gushed, his organs spilling out of his body…

“What’s wrong with Sebastian?” shouted Vlad.

The dark-kin wailed and fell to the ground, unconscious, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Kham drew Talon from over the sheath across his shoulders.  “Where!” he shouted, “IS! COOMBS?!”

Quelch ducked sideways and pointed at Kham.  A hissing, bubbling gout of filthy black energy seared towards him.  It tore a hole through Kham’s coat, which writhed at the unholy ray’s touch.

Dril drew both of his blades as Beldin returned.  “We’re going to have to press him!  We can’t keep this up!”

Beldin nodded, his face red from the embarrassment he suffered at Quelch’s hands.  “Now he’s made me mad!”

They charged forward behind Kham.

“Mad?” shouted Quelch.  “You have not seen Hastur’s fury yet, fools.  Niger evum!”

A wall of black, rubbery tentacles boiled out of the ground.  Before Beldin and Dril could react, they were held aloft, each limb wrapped and squeezed by the tentacles.  

Vlad watched from afar, helpless.  There was nothing he could do.  He was going to watch his friends die like dogs in the street of Freeport.

Or maybe there was. He reached for his crossbow.


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Part 2b – The Encounter by the Canal*

“Those tentacles won’t stop me, Quelch!” shouted Kham.  “You’re running out of tricks!” He tumbled and flipped past the squirming wall of black limbs, landing right next to the antiques dealer.

“Manus de Colubra!” shouted Quelch.  His arms warped and undulated, transforming into hissing snakes. It was enough to even give Kham pause.

Talon smacked one of the snakeheads as it darted towards Kham’s head. There was a sharp pain in his thigh as the other mouth connected.  He smashed the hilt of his scimitar into the snakehead and it let go.

The burning sensation burrowed its way up his thigh.  Poison!

“Where’s Coombs, you son of a bitch?” snarled Kham.  He took a staggering step forward.  “I’ll kill you!”

The snake arms bobbed and weaved, looking for an opening.  Quelch knew it was only a matter of time until the poison took effect. “Kill me? All because Coombs blew up Freeport?”

“He killed…” Kham wavered. He was having problems focusing. “He killed…my father.”

“No,” sneered Quelch.  “You killed your father. One does not leave the vassalage of the King in Yellow lightly.”  The arms rose up—

A crossbow bolt jutted from Quelch’s forehead.  Even such a killing blow only stunned him, causing him to slip backwards.  He disappeared off the side of bridge.

Kham dropped Talon and stumbled over to the edge.  Both of Quelch’s unnatural arms hung by their teeth, clinging to the bridge as the cold water dragged at him. 

“Don’t let him go, Kham!” shouted Dril.  “We need him!”

Kham looked down at Quelch, vision blurred by rage and tears. Slowly, he took a pistol out. 

“Kham!” shouted Beldin.  “Put down the pistol down!  Throw it away!”

Quelch glared up at Kham.  “It’s surprising how easily one can purchase information from the men in your Society.”

“What did you say?” asked Kham.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have a loving father,” said Quelch.  “He seemed like a good man.  But that wasn’t enough to save him, was it?”

The pistol trembled in Kham’s hand as he brought the barrel to point at Quelch’s forehead.  

“Kham, listen to me,” said Dril.  “Don’t do this. He’s our only link to Coombs.”

There was a millisecond pause.  Kham changed the angle of fire.

BLAM!

He blew one of Quelch’s arms to pieces in a splattering explosion.

Quelch screamed, his left arm flapping uselessly.  The one good snakehead still clung to the bridge.

Kham aimed again and shot Quelch in the leg.  Quelch shrieked, rolling, incapable of letting go of the bridge. 

Kham shot Quelch in the other arm.  He spasmed, wrenching as the flesh tore and snapped.  Still gurgling in pain, Quelch disappeared into the waters.

 “I know where his house is,” slurred Kham.  Before they could say anything else, he left.

The tentacles retracted into the ground.  Sebastian blinked and sat straight up. Vlad was free.  Quelch’s curses were fleeting in their efficacy, but his words were far more painful.

“We’d better catch up with him before he hurts himself,” said Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Part 3a – Exploring Quelch’s House*

Quelch’s house had three stories and a cellar.  The entire place was very untidy, dirty, and dusty; packing cases, boxes and old newspapers took up nearly all the available floor space, whilst books, bills and manifolds littered every other surface, including the stairs.  The ground floor had a selection of middling quality furniture.  

Kham walked through the place in a haze.  The first floor had more than a thousand occult, theological, and philosophical books shelved in no particular order.  A quick glance indicated that some were quite rare, some extremely rare.

Nine steps lead down from the ground floor into the small cellar area.  He crept down the steps.  It was a five-foot high space meant for nothing more than coal storage.  The stench was horrible.

Moonlight illuminated the stairwell from above.  Something glittered in a dark corner.

Kham crept over to it.  It was a vial.  An empty vial, with a grayish liquid still at the bottom.

He sniffed it.  He put a pinky inside the vial and tasted it.

Kham knew the taste.  He laced his wine with it. Ghoul juice.

Two red dots hung in the air in the corner.  It took Kham a moment to realize they were a pair of eyes.

Something roughly bipedal, with a vaguely canine aspect, came slouching out of the hole.  It had a rubbery hide, a mold-caked body, half-hoofed feet, and scaled claws used for burrowing.

It moved forward, sniffing and huffing.  It circled him.  Kham didn’t move.

More came out of the hole.  Three.  Four.  Five.

They circled him, sniffing and hooting softly to each other.  And all the while the red eyes watched him, drinking him in.  

There was a shout behind Kham.  It might have been Vlad, but he wasn’t sure.  Sounds of combat.  Screams.

“Ghouls!” shouted Vlad.

They overwhelmed the Milandisian.  Grasping claws clutched at Vlad, yanking him into the enveloping womb of darkness.  Kham caught a glimpse of his feet disappearing into the tunnel.  

“Stand back!” Sebastian shouted behind Kham.  “Incendiaries globus!”

Flames licked around him.  

Kham sat, slouched in the corner, oblivious. 

He just rocked himself and whispered over and over. “Why didn’t they attack me?”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Uh-oh -- a villain "dying" by falling dramatically into the water and being swept away. You know what that means...


----------



## talien

That's right!  Never count an enemy dead unless you are physically in possession of his dead body.

And then you cremate it.

And then you spread the ashes.

And then cast a wish to wish that he can never be brought back.


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Part 3b – Exploring Quelch’s House*

Vlad couldn’t move.  Paralyzed from head to toe, he could only watch with wide, staring eyes as the ghouls dragged him from their tunnel to…

Someplace familiar.  It was the Well-Dressed Man’s drug den! The place still stank of snakeweed and abyss dust, but those odors competed with a more powerful smell: human sweat and filth.  About a dozen ghouls were sprawled about the room in various stages of drug-induced stupor or drug-deprived delirium tremens. The cushions, curtains, and just about everything else that wasn’t nailed into place had been uprooted and ruined.  Several slogans, written in a substance he’d rather not identify, covered the walls. 

Ghouls gathered around him, their red eyes burrowing into his soul.  Gleaming wet maws moved closer…

There was a shout.  One of the ghouls looked over its shoulder and then, like a rabid dog, barked and ran.  The others scattered like roaches.

Dril popped into view.  “You okay?”

Vlad struggled to respond.  

“Look at those scratches.”  Beldin’s bushy beard became visible.  “He’s infected.”

The bite and scratch marks from the ghouls had turned a purplish black.

“Infected?” managed Vlad. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Infected with what?”

“How long do you think it will take?” asked Dril.

“Don’t know,” said Beldin.

“Well, we can’t just leave him here,” said Dril.

“What do you mean by infected?” asked Vlad, his voice rising.

“There’s got to be some means of stopping it,” said Dril.  

“Well, we can’t do it here,” Beldin replied. “If he turns—“

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!” shouted Vlad.

“We’d better get you to Peg-Leg,” said Beldin.  “If those really are ghouls, you’re going to turn into one of them soon. I’ve seen a pack of ghouls burrow their way into a dwarf colony.  One week later the place was lousy with them.  We had to burn the whole colony out.  Nasty stuff.”

Vlad swallowed hard.  He looked sick. “Now I really don’t feel so good. What about Kham? Those ghouls treated him like a brother or something.  It was weird.”

Beldin peered past the wall, looking out through boarded up windows into the den of scum and villainy that was Scurvytown.  “What are ghouls doing in a drug den?”

“The more important question is, why does a drug den have ghouls in it?”  Dril kicked at a pile of empty vials; they were everywhere. 

“Ghoul juice,” said Vlad. 

“If the ghoul juice makes ghouls, and ghouls make other ghouls…” Beldin was cut off by something howling in the distance. It wasn’t a dog.  But it wasn’t quite human either.

Dril frowned.  “Look.” He nodded towards one wall.

On the wall was the usual infantile graffiti, which included “Orcs go home!”  But there was one message written in blood that was separate from all the others.  

It read: Beware His Return.


----------



## talien

*A Walk in the Park: Conclusion*

When they arrived at The Last Resort, there was another note for Kham.  After explaining what they had witnessed, Bobbin dropped all pretense of protecting Kham’s privacy.  

“I found this in his room.” He handed Vlad a letter. “Look at the return address.”

Vlad’s brow furrowed.  “Corinalous val’Abebi.” He passed it on to Dril.

“Either this is someone’s idea of a cruel joke,” said Dril, “or it was sent before he died.” Dril turned the envelope upside down and the letter slipped out.  “Kham read it already.”

The letter spoke of Lucius and of his book, The Walker by the Lake. But it was the second visit that was most intriguing, 



> Corinalous had brought papers with him, transcriptions from Lucius’ book, and read a passage from it in Milandisian to Lucius.  Not being skilled at languages, he stumbled over the phrases, but then Lucius responded. He spoke the text along with Corinalous. As Lucius did so, Corinalous stopped reciting and tried to engage him.
> 
> Lucius kept speaking and it became clearly that he was overly excited.  Corinalous reached out to touch his shoulder. As he did so, he suddenly felt very weak.
> 
> As Lucius spoke, Corinalous was no longer in the cell. He was walking in a park and was looking at the buildings across the way. Corinalous knew it was not a dream; it was in the detail and the normalcy: the mallards setting up their noise and up ahead the paperboy calling. The sun was setting.
> 
> Corinalous reached into his pocket for a copper for The Shipping News, and as he did he heard a scuffed step behind him.  He turned.
> 
> A sharp-faced man, quite tall, held Corinalous’ gaze. “A package for you, sir,” he said.
> 
> He handed Corinalous a box with an elaborate bow.  Corinalous undid the bow and discovered a tall jar inside with five gems.  When he removed the jeweled stopper from the jar’s neck, the world exploded in flames.
> 
> When Corinalous opened his eyes, he was looking up at the sky. And there was the paperboy’s white face. He tried to say something to reassure him but couldn’t. And then Corinalous knew no more.
> 
> The next thing Corinalous knew, he was lying on the floor. The Tombs guard was down on one knee, giving Corinalous assistance, and Lucius stood above them.
> 
> Lucius face was his old one and very sad. “I am very sorry, Corinalous,” he said. “I cannot change what you saw.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 33: The Seventh Sin - Introduction*

This is a Living Arcanis adventure set in the Freeport setting, written by Simon Collins. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I did something different with this adventure.  Ilmarė had been away for awhile and I wanted to wrap up a few loose ends with Ymandragore.  So instead of simply just having Ilmarė return from her soul-searching trip in becoming a Keeper of the Belisardan Sign, I thought it was appropriate to have a few reminders that Freeport is increasingly becoming a dangerous place.  

What’s interesting is that Ilmarė was kidnapped pretty easily despite all her defenses against mind-control powers; she rolled a 1 on her Will save against Vladimir’s first spell.  Additionally, this adventure tied in events of Tatters of the King (I replaced Aleister Crowely with Talathiel and the Golden Dawn with the Golden Pillar Society). It propels the plot forward in strange ways.

As usual, things didn’t go exactly as I planned.  Talathiel didn’t quite get to impart all the information I expected (in fact, he got dragged in as an innocent bystander), and the fight with Vladimir was much deadlier than anticipated.  Still, our three heroes managed to save the fair maiden.

Now if we can just get the Forty-Second Act of Debauchery out of our heads.  Ick.


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Prologue*

Ilmarė was on her way to the Marquis Moon, a new agreed-upon meeting point that Kham picked, when she felt a strange tingling sensation from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

Her body was completely frozen.  Only then did a man limp out of the alleys of Freeport.

He was of medium height and build, with hair missing in clumps on his head.  He had sunken brown eyes and wore a brown cloak with a small silver clasp in the form of an owl.

Ilmarė recognized him.  It was the Commandant from Ymandragore.

“Well,” he rasped, “it seems I’ve finally caught up with you.”  The Commandant was overcome by wracking coughs.  “My name is Vladimir val’Sheem.  I want you to know that it was I who ruined you, just as you ruined my country.” 

Vladimir reached for Ilmarė’s head and removed her helmet. “We’ll just take this little trinket.” Then he tugged the rings off her fingers. “And these.” 

Vladimir paused, peering at the amulet around Ilmarė’s neck.  “And I’ll take this as proof.”  He snapped it off her throat.

“Now my dear.  It’s time for you to go meet your new friends. Follow me, please.”

Ilmarė followed him behind the Marquis Moon.  Vladimir lifted up a sewer grate.  He pointed down at the stinking depths.

Against her will, she descended.

“I’m going to leave you in the care of some associates of mine,” said Vladimir with a malicious sneer.  “They will take…good care of you.”

A striking woman with long dark red hair and a lithe body stood before a gleaming silver door, bright and seemingly unaffected by its fetid surroundings.  Set in the center of the door, at about chest height, was a large golden circle.  A few lines of text were engraved within the circle. The door was hot; Ilmarė could feel the warmth emanating from it. 

Before she could make out more, the woman blocked her vision.

“An elorii, Vladimir.” The woman stroked Ilmarė’s cheek.  “Just as you promised.”  She seemed impressed.  “She will do nicely.”

“Make her suffer,” snarled Vladimir.  He whirled and disappears out of Ilmarė’s field of vision.

The woman turned back, whispering something to the door.  It opened before her.

In stark contrast to the sewers behind Ilmarė, the room was decorated in sumptuous style, hung with rich silks and curtains of wine-red and gold. The stale air reeked of perfume, body odors, and a cloying sweetness that was hard to define. 

Several masked figures stared at you expectantly, dressed in revealing robes.  An immensely tall, well-muscled man with a topknot dominated the room, his skin covered in strange tattoos. The man remained masked, and held the only obvious weapon in the room – a whip. 

“Perfect,” said the man.  He lifted his hands up to face the ceiling. “Oh Larissa, Mistress of the Forbidden Pleasures and the Temptress of the Pure! Oh ye, Divine Harlot of the Sixty-Seven Acts of Debauchery!  We, your loyal servants, offer you this sacrifice.” 

The held a goblet filled with blood-red wine to Ilmarė’s lips. Against her will, she drank it.

All went dark.  Just before she lost consciousness, she heard, “Let the forty-second act of debauchery begin!”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 1 – The Missing Elorii*

The Indecipherable Scroll was a small, narrow tavern on the western edge of Freeport. A red-faced, sweating minstrel was just finishing a song as you enter, casually accepting the crowd's applause as he prepares to take a break. 

The crowd itself appeared to be a young and eclectic mix of students, artists, and wealthy young adults with no obvious occupation. As the applause faded, intense discussions of literature and local politics raged, instead of the sea shanties and drunken arguments that were more common in Freeport's taverns. 

The bartender was a wiry, clean-shaven man in a stylish red doublet. He occasionally engaged in brief conversations with a middle-aged, bespectacled woman who surveyed the crowd from behind the bar. 

The minstrel was drinking lustily from a bottle of cheap red wine. He had the face of a man who lived a long life in a relatively short time, and not an easy life at that. 

Beldin Soulforge joined the minstrel at the table.  “I’m looking for information.”  He clanked a bottle of expensive wine on the table.

The minstrel perked up.  “How may Zako Sebesteyen serve you, noble dwarf?” 

“I’m looking for an Osalikene elorii woman with silver and purple hair.  Have you seen her? She’s a gifted singer, like yourself.”

Zako poured himself a drink from the new bottle.  His breath and slightly slurred words suggested that it wasn’t first drink of the evening.  “Ah yes!  Quite a looker, not fond of humans?”

“That’s her.”

“Ilmarė Galen.  I’m afraid I don’t know her well. You might try Vikki Haddon.”  He nodded towards a nervous-looking woman in the car corner of the tavern.  “She’s the daughter of Aljandros Haddon. She’s quite nervous these days, and in my experience nervous people usually know something they should not.”

Beldin nodded.  “Thanks, friend.”  He made his way over to the woman.

Blending in with the crowd of students and artists was a petite, auburn-haired woman.  Vikki was attractive but not stunning, dressed in flattering but not overtly sexy clothing. She moved casually through the crowd, listening much more than she spoke.

Vikki eyed Beldin’s approach warily. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for an elorii.”  Beldin had rehearsed the speech several times and it showed.  “Zako mentioned you might have seen her.  She’s an Osalikene elorii woman with silver and purple hair.”

Vikki pursed her lips.  “I have information regarding this elorii. I think we can help each other.  But you must help me first.”

Beldin arched a bushy eyebrow.  “How so?”

“My friend saw the elorii kidnapped.  But she’s in a bit of trouble right now and needs to get out of Freeport. If you agree to help her get to the mainland, discreetly, she will tell you everything she knows.”

Beldin stroked his beard.  “In that case, I think we can help each other.”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 2 – The Indecipherable Scroll*

Vikki led them back to her home in the southwest corner of the Merchant District of Freeport. They waited while Vikki went to collect her friend.

“Are you sure she really saw Ilmarė?” asked Vlad.  

Sebastian shrugged.  “My compatriots in The Shield have yet to find her. We’ve run out of options.”

Beldin grunted.  “I believe her,” he said.  “I’m more concerned that this plan will work.”

“It’ll work,” said Vlad.  They were all dressed in their finest attire.  “We’re just gentlemen taking their ladies out for a walk.”

“Finn arranged for passage,” said Beldin.  He tugged at the frilled collar around his neck.  “We just have to get her there.”

Vikki returned with her friend. She was slender, pale, and beautiful. Both women were dressed in ball gowns.  

“How do you do.”  Vlad bowed. “I am Vlad Martell.  This is Sebastian Arnyal and Beldin Soulforge.  Would you do us the honor of allowing us to escort you to you…destination?”

Vikki tittered.  Her friend was not nearly as amused.  

“I am Arilee Stormcrest,” she said nervously.  “Can we go now?”

“Certainly.”  Vlad offered Arilee his arm.  Vikki took Sebastian’s.  Beldin walked ahead of them.

They walked for a while, wending their way through the streets.  

 “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m leaving Freeport?” Arilee had relaxed a bit.

“Nope,” said Vlad.  “Your business is your own.  I’m much more concerned for my friend.  It’s not like her to disappear like that; she can take care of herself.”

Arilee took in Vlad with lowered lids.  “This friend…she is your lady?”

Vlad guffawed.  “No,” he said with a smile.  “Just a friend.  She’s not fond of humans.”

“That’s why we get along,” muttered Beldin.

“Oh.” Arilee smiled shyly.  

“Well, well, well, look what we 'ave 'ere!”

Price’s voice rang out from the Freeport fog.  He shined his bull’s-eye lantern at Vlad’s face.  “Blimey! Look who i' is! Fancy bumpin' in'er yew on a night like dis. What yew all up to?”

Vlad felt Airlee’s grip on his arm tighten.  He squeezed her hand back.

“Good to see you, Price.  We’re just taking a walk to dinner at The Last Resort.”

“Is that so?” Four of the Sea Lord’s Guard accompanied Price. “Too bad abaaaht that place, what wiv da bombings an' all. They could use da business.”

“Aye,” said Vlad.

Price peered over Vlad’s shoulder. “Hello Sebastian. Thanks ter you, I got me a promoshun. I am sergean' now. You can stop a bomb at da Caaahrts any time!”

Sebastian smiled painfully.  Price could be dreadfully crass.

Price shined his lantern back at Vlad. “If yew see da bi' ov elf fluff, let 'er know I'm movin' up in da world, right?”

“I will,” said Vlad. “Well, we should be off.”

“Ov caaahrse, ov caaahrse,” said Price.  “See yew later then.”

They began to walk slowly, carefully away from the guardsmen.

“Hold it!” shouted Price.

They all froze. 

“I nearly forgot ter tell yew! I just arrested yaaahr friend Kham.”

Beldin let out an exasperated sigh. 

“He's bein' arraigned in da local caaahrts, but i' doesn't look good fer 'im. Have a nice night!”

Arilee peered over Vlad’s shoulder at the receding lamps of the guardsmen.  “I thought for sure they’d recognize me!”

Vlad shrugged.  “I imagine they’re looking for a desperate woman on the run, not a lady out on the town with her man.” 

Arilee blushed, but Vlad couldn’t see it.

“Besides,” said Sebastian. “Price only cares about Price.”

“We’re here,” said Beldin.  

The docks practically jumped up on them, such was the fog in Freeport that night.  An undir woman sat in the boat, covered in a cloak.  

“Hello Beldin,” said the woman.  “I’ll be booking passage for your lady friend.  Finn asked me to tell you that you two are now even.”

Beldin nodded.  “I expect nothing less.”

The dwarf handed Arilee a bag full of her belongings.  

“And now I will repay my debt to you,” said Arilee.  “I saw your elf friend grabbed by a man near the Marquis Moon in the Old City.  I didn’t get a good look at him, since I was worried about my…own situation at the time.”

Vlad took the note from her.  “Thank you.”

Arilee got on her tiptoes to kiss Vlad on the cheek.  “No, thank you,” she whispered, just for him.  Then she got into the boat.

Vlad was still staring after the boat as it departed into the mists.

Beldin tugged on his arm.  “Let’s go.”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 3 – Eastward Ho!*

Dusk was settling on Freeport as they headed east along the route that Ilmarė took before vanishing. 

The buildings they passed were an assortment of small stores and workshops, together with the occasional inn, tavern or small residence; none particularly stood out as a place to start looking for clues. 

The street bustled with merchants, servants, carts, and litters, all hurrying to get their business done before nightfall. Most people were concentrating entirely on their own affairs, but a few were simply watching or waiting. 

A tall, raven-haired woman with the ready smile and emotionless eyes of a professional courtesan surveyed the passing crowd as she walked; her clothing, while provocative, was tasteful and well made, suggesting a higher class of harlot. 

Vlad approached the woman.  She put on a practiced smile.  “Looking for anything in particular?”

“We’re looking for an Osalikene elorii woman,” said Beldin.  “She has silver and purple hair.”

“I can be her if you like.”  With a few arcane gestures, the woman transformed herself into a beautiful young female elorii, the mirror image of Ilmarė. “Elorii must be the current fashion; this is the second day in a row that someone has come looking for an elorii companion.”

Sebastian and Vlad exchanged worried looks. 

“You’re a spitting image of her,” said Sebastian.  “So you’ve obviously seen her.  Where was she last?”

The woman crossed her arms and transformed back to her original form. “There are paying customers I could be spending my time with, you know.”

Vlad handed her a purse full of gold doubloons.  “Fifty should do it.”

Beldin looked sideways at Vlad, but kept his mouth shut.

“Around this time yesterday, a hooded elorii man was wandering around here and asking if there were any elorii courtesans in town.  I slipped off around the corner, changed my appearance, and approached the man.  However, before we could strike a deal, he figured it out.  He left after that, but I heard him muttering something about ‘finding one tonight’ and ‘taking her back to the Pillar.’”

“The Golden Pillar Society,” said Sebastian.  “This can’t be good.”

“You Vlad Martell?” asked the courtesan.

“I am,” said Vlad.  “You know of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the courtesan said with a smirk.  She pulled a slip of paper out of her bodice.  “I was instructed to give this note to Vlad Martell if he came looking for this elorii woman.”

Vlad took the note.

“There was someone else looking for her?” asked Sebastian.  “Did you get a good look at him?”

The courtesan shrugged.  “I never actually saw him; I only heard him.  He paid me well to deliver the message too.  As a general rule, I don’t trifle with sorcerers.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.  “Then you shouldn’t start now.”

“We’ve got bigger problems.” Vlad finished reading the note. “The author of this note claims he knows where Ilmarė is.” 

“And?” asked Beldin.

“He wants us to meet him at a warehouse.”

Sebastian sighed.  “I hate warehouses.”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 4 – The Emissary*

Vlad kicked open the double doors to the small warehouse. Great heaping piles of sacks and barrels greeted them.

“All right,” shouted the Milandisian. “Where is she?” 

A terrible, ropy cough echoed all around them.

“Well, you made it,” rasped the voice. “Excellent.  I knew you would come.  You were almost too late.”

“Show yourself!” shouted Beldin.

The coughing stopped.  “You’re probably wondering where your friend is. I’ve taken her; sold her, actually.  To a cult.  And you’ll never get to her in time.  Just as you brought a plague upon the people of Ymandragore, I’ve brought about the single best way I know to make you and your kind suffer.  Tell THAT to your legionnaire friend!”

Then he began chanting a spell.

Vlad froze.  “I can’t move!”

Beldin dove to the side.  “I can’t see him!”

“Nor can I,” said Sebastian.  “But we can fix that.”  He pulled a wand out of the folds of his robe and pointed where he last heard the voice.  Spiraling, wet strands of webbing blanketed the ceiling.

Someone shouted a curse above them. A struggling form could be seen, distinct in the layer of webbing.

“He’s on the ceiling!” shouted Beldin.

Sebastian bared his fangs.  “Not for long. Incendiaries globus!” 

A ball of flames engulfed the webbing, setting the warehouse ablaze.  

“Fulgur sagitta!” 

A bolt of lightning crackled from above them, surging into Beldin.  The dwarf fell backwards, smoke spiraling from the tips of his beard.

“Get down!” shouted Sebastian. “Incendiaries globus!”

Another burst of flame hit the ceiling.  There was a yelp as someone landed a pile of sack.  A dust cloud puffed from the floor.

Slowly, a man’s body faded into sight. 

Sebastian made his way over to him. He grabbed the man by his singed robes. “Who are you? Where is Ilmarė?”

“Finally,” said the Ymandrake.  “Just as I had hoped. I should thank you for the privilege.  Now let me return the favor.”

Vlad shook off the enchantment and joined Sebastian.  “I recognize you.  You’re the Commandant!”

The Commandant’s body began to convulse.  “That disease you left on Ymandragore…it’s quite virulent.” He began coughing uncontrollably.  

Beldin dusted himself off as he approached.  “I don’t like this.”

“It seems that when I had returned to pray at the altar, something was ravaging all of Ymandragore.  When I discovered who it was that had deposited that particular disease…well let’s just say the Sorcerer-King sent me to deliver a message.”

“Message?” asked Sebastian.  “What message?”

“We were unable to find a cure,” said the Commandant. “So we’re letting the disease run its course…by sending every infected sorcerer to your doorstep.”

Vlad grabbed Sebastian and Beldin by the shoulders and shoved them towards the entrance.  “Run!”

Sebastian half-stumbled there.  “What?  Why?”

“Because he’s about to—“

Then the Ymandrake exploded.


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 5 – Sewer Rats*

Behind ‘The Marquis Moon’ was an old, rusted sewer grating. Though it at first appeared to be locked, the grating lifted easily.

“I thought you were a goner for a moment there, Sebastian.” Beldin clambered down into the sewers. 

“So did I.”  Sebastian followed him in.  “I still don’t understand what happened. Why would a Ymandrake take such a special interest in us?  And why did he leave us a map?”

“To make us suffer,” said Beldin.  “That much was obvious.”

“The Hawk faction corrupted Augustus Tensen-Balin’s son with a magical disease.” Vlad looked away from Sebastian. “The plan was to use it as a weapon against the Sorcerer King.”

Sebastian froze.  “What kind of disease?”

“A magical disease,” said Vlad. “Quintus, Ilmarė, Kham and I went on a special mission to deliver Cassicus directly to the Sorcerer-King.  We succeeded.”

Sebastian rubbed his temples.  “I knew that we had delivered a fatal blow to the Sorcerer-King, but I didn’t know how.”

“We faced the Commandant when we were trying to steal one of the Black Ships.  We barely escaped with our lives.”

“And just how is this disease spread?”

Vlad shook his head slowly.  “I’m not sure.  But it infects…”

“Yes?” asked Sebastian.

“Sorcerers,” said Vlad with a sigh.  “It infects sorcerers.”

Sebastian slumped against the side of the sewer.  “Suddenly, I don’t feel so well.”

“I’ve found something.”  Beldin crouched down to pick up a dagger. “This is Ilmarė’s throwing dagger.”

As they looked around the dank and noisome tunnels, they heard a surprised yelp, followed by a grunt of pain. Almost immediately, the sounds of battle echoed from somewhere down the tunnel to their left.

Before them, a harried human warrior stood with his back to the tunnel wall at a sewer T-junction. Surrounding him are crouching figures serpent-like figures. The warrior desperately fended off their attacks with a short sword. One of the figures stood back from the melee, reaching into a small pouch at his waist and hissing some sort of rhythmic chant.

”Ssanu!” said Beldin.  

“But I thought we stopped them!” said Sebastian, his voice rising.  “I thought K’Stallo was educating them…”

Vlad and Beldin charged forward, weapons raised.  

“Radius incensio!” Sebastian pointed both hands and scorching rays of fire spiraled through the stink of the sewers to strike the priest-like ssanu. 

It fell backwards, the corpse still smoldering.  The warriors made short work of the remaining ssanu, who fled upon the death of their leader.

“The name’s Mondel,” said the man. He had a haggard face, with bags under his eyes. “A fellow named Rat told me that he saw a girl being dragged through the sewers by a man. I figured if I rescued her I’d get into the Sewer Rats.”

“Sewer Rats?” asked Vlad.

“Vigilantes,” said Beldin.  “They’re probably the only thing keeping the ssanu population down.”

“Rat told me the general location of where the kidnapper went,” said Mondel.  “He also told me that a strange door is located in the tunnels somewhere nearby.”

The man turned and began walking back the way they came. 

“Not coming with us?” asked Vlad.

“No way,” said Mondel.  “This place is too dangerous and disgusting to bother.  Good luck finding your friend.”

“That’s gratitude for you,” said Beldin.

Sebastian was silent. 

“Sebastian?” asked Vlad.  “You okay?”

The dark-kin was leaning over the corpse of the priest ssanu.  He had the ssanu’s pouch in his hand, turning it over and over.  “This symbol.  It’s a symbol of Yig.  Only it’s not Yig in her typically peaceful form.  It has a word underneath it: Sskethvai.  I don’t know what it means, but I do know this: the ssanu are not as disorganized as we believed.”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 6 – The Riddle of Fire*

As they rounded another corner of the tunnel, they came across an utterly unexpected sight. Set into the dank, mold-encrusted wall at the end of the tunnel was a gleaming silver door, bright and seemingly unaffected by its fetid surroundings. Set in the center of the door, at about chest height, was a large golden circle. A few lines of text were engraved within the circle. 

Sebastian read it aloud. “Her father keeps us safe and warm. Her brother rides upon the storm. Her husband dwells in shadows deep. Her child's promise you must keep. STATE HER NAME AND QUENCH THE FLAME.” He turned back to his companions.  “Anyone?”

“I have no idea,” said Vlad. 

Beldin was studying the nearby wall.  “There’s a door here.” He pushed on the wall and a section depressed and slid away, revealing a narrow flight of stairs. 

“Well, let’s see if whoever owns these steps knows the answer to the riddle,” said Sebastian.  He climbed the steps and the others followed.

The stairs ended in a blank stone wall.  Beldin felt around and easily opened yet another secret door. To…

“Somebody’s cellar?” asked Vlad in surprise. 

Sebastian sighed.  There were more steps leading up.  

They followed the corridor into a living room.  A man had his back to them. He was pouring himself a generous straight whiskey.

“Ah yes, you’ve come about the obituary then?  Please, have a seat.”

Vlad and Sebastian looked at each other.  Sebastian shrugged and sat down.

“I assume you found me through my statement about Quelch.  I hope you haven’t come to talk about that shopkeeper.  I put down all I needed to say in those few words in the rag.”

He was a large elorii with a shaved head, heavy features, and black eyes.  

“Yes, I read your obituary about Elijah Quelch” said Sebastian.  “You must be Perdubo.  If I remember my High Coryani correctly, it means: I will last through. You’re Talathiel of the Golden Pillar Society.”

Talathiel inclined his head slightly.  “Indeed.”

“Now it all makes sense.”  Sebastian’s mind was going a mile a minute. “You mentioned a Montague Edwards in the obituary…”

“Ah yes, I know Edwards,” said Talathiel. “I myself am a Laird, you know.  Edwards claims to be a Laird himself, of Libertyville no less, but I don’t believe it.  I knew Edwards from the Golden Pillar Society, where he called himself Vox Mutatis.  An ambitious man.  Nasty, I’d say.  Or perhaps that’s the same thing.  Anyway, gives black magic a bad name.”  Talaiel gives a pained little smile.  “I did receive a letter from him once. It was only when I got a little famous that he sought me out, trying to impress me with his title.  Do you think he was going to offer me a job?  Maybe I should have replied.”

Beldin stood up.  “I’m getting tired of this.” The dwarf pulled his axe from his belt.  “Tell us where Ilmarė is or I will chop you in half.”

“Excuse me?”

Sebastian rose to his feet and leveled a wand at Talathiel’s head.  “There’s a door in your cellar.  And that cellar leads to steps.  And those steps lead to another door with a riddle.  Our friend is in danger and we’re in a bit of a hurry, so if you’d be so kind as to tell open the door for us, we can all get back to our lives.”

“Are you threatening me?” asked Talathiel indignantly.

Vlad rose to his feet.  “No, he was being polite.”  Vlad took some rope from a belt pouch and shoved Talathiel to his knees.  “I’M threatening you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” said Talathiel.  He seemed completely unaffected by the whole situation.  “And if I’m guilty of having a door in my home, then so is all of Freeport.”

“It’s what’s behind the door that we need to find out.” They marched him back towards the cellar.

Several servants watched them go.  “Are you all right, master?”

“It’s fine,” said Talathiel.  “We’re just going for a walk.”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Part 7 – Den of Debauchery*

“Larissa!” shouted Talathiel.

The door cooled and shrank slightly. Vlad threw Talathiel on the ground.  “Stay there.”

Beldin kicked the door open. 

Several figures jumped up in shock at their sudden entrance, caught in the midst of the Sacraments of Larissa. Several of the figures wore theatrical golden masks that hid their features, and clothing designed to reveal more than it concealed. 

The inhabitants' attention appeared to be focused on one particular couple: a striking woman with long dark red hair and a lithe body, and her partner, an immensely tall, well-muscled man with a topknot, whose skin is covered in strange tattoos. The man remained masked, and held the only obvious weapon in the room – a whip. 

He takes a step back as, but the woman walked towards Vlad, seeming to grow more sensuous as she regained her composure. She wore the holy symbol of Larissa – a golden coin suspended from a fine silver chain – and very little else. 

“Welcome to the Golden Pillar Society,” said the woman.  “Would you like to join our exclusive club dedicated to pleasure?  The cost is but five gold doubloons a night.” She looked Vlad up and down.  “I’m willing to waive the fee for you though, handsome.”

Vlad swallowed hard.  

“Where’s Ilmarė?” snarled Beldin. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the woman.  “If you won’t join in the fun and frolics, maybe you should leave us in peace to do as we wish.  We’re not hurting anyone, after all.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Sebastian.  He looked around the room. “We’re going to search this place.”

The woman’s tone shifted from seductive to vicious.  “Oh I don’t think you will.  Do you know who I am?  I’m Letah Calame, daughter of C.Q. Calame.”

“The owner of The Shipping News?” asked Vlad.  “You’re joking, right?”

“It’s no joke,” snarled Letah.  “If you keep this nonsense up my father will RUIN YOU! Now GET. OUT!”

Sebastian crossed his arms, a wand still in one hand.  “I don’t think so.  I think that your father wouldn’t be too pleased to let word get out about your…activities. Vlad, Beldin, tear this place apart.”

There was a shout, and a man launched himself from the curtains on one side of the room, landing his foot squarely in Vlad’s chest.  Vlad fell backwards in surprise.

The ten middle-aged Golden Pillar members grabbed their clothes ran screaming from the room. Letah ran into the corner of the room and dove under the bed.

Beldin faced down the masked man with the whip. The whip cracked over his head, sparking off of his shield.  

“Whip dagger,” growled Beldin.  “Let’s see how you fare against an axe.”

Vlad was back on his feet.  He faced down the unarmed man, who slid into a combat stance.  “You’re disarmed,” said Vlad.  “Give up.”

The man skipped forward on one foot and snap-kicked Vlad again under the chin, followed by two rapid punches to the inside of left arm.  He dropped his shield.

“Don’t hurt the girl,” said Sebastian.  “We need her alive! Radius incensio!” 

Spiraling flames shot towards the masked man.  They fizzled a few inches from his face.

Sebastian took a step back.  “Careful!  That’s no ordinary man!”

Beldin hacked at the masked figure.  It backhanded him effortlessly, sending the dwarf flying.  Then he pointed at Vlad.

“Go untie Talathiel.”

Sebastian smirked.  “Your mind tricks won’t affect me, demon.”

Vlad picked up his sword.  Then he nodded and walked back the way they came.

“Damn it!” shouted Sebastian.  “Medicates privatus!” 

Vlad paused.  

“Don’t listen to the demon!” shouted Sebastian, frustrated.  “Kill the monk!”

Vlad blinked, clearing his head.  

Beldin faced down the monk.  The dwarf’s shorter stature made it difficult for the monk to find an opening.  He swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing the monk to jump over the blade.

The monk slumped to the ground.  Vlad stood over the man’s corpse.  

A whip whistled around Vlad’s neck.  He dropped his sword and shield, struggling to release the whip from around his throat.

Beldin took a step forward, closing on the demon. 

There was a loud pop, and a reddish-black spider with dripping fangs appeared. Then a fire-breathing hound. Then a man-sized buzzing wasp.

“Fire…ball…” croaked Vlad.  He fell to his knees.  The demon was slowly pulling him backwards into the slavering jaws of the spider. Beldin was preoccupied with the hellhounds.

“What?” said Sebastian. “But it’s a crowded room.”

“Do…it!” gurgled Vlad. He reached his fingertips out for Grungronazharr…

“Are you sure?”

The giant wasp’s stinger struck again and again around Beldin’s shield.  “WE’RE SURE!”

Sebastian took a step back out of the doorway.  “I’d get out of the path of the doorway, if I were you,” he said to Talathiel.

Talathiel rolled aside.

“Incendiaries globus!”


----------



## talien

*The Seventh Sin: Conclusion*

The room was a smoking wreck.  And still the masked demon stood at its center, unaffected.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Vlad.

Letah struggled out from the burning bed. 

The masked man turned to Letah. In the smoothest, silkiest, and most seductive male voice they had ever heard, it said, “Good luck.” Then it disappeared.

“Enough of this.” Sebastian stalked over to Letah.  “Tell us where Ilmarė is.” He pointed a wand at her forehead.  “Now.”

Letah said nothing.  She just started sobbing.

“I found her!” shouted Vlad.  He emerged from one of burning curtains with the elorii. She was unconscious and half-naked, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Well, isn’t dis a busy day?” came Price’s voice from the doorway.  “What yew all up to?” He was accompanied by five guardsmen.

Sebastian pointed an accusing finger at Letah.  “This woman kidnapped our friend.” He pointed his wand at Talathiel.  “And this man was harboring a sex cult.”

The men guffawed.  

Letah’s crying became a piteous wail. “The demon seduced me!” she shrieked.  “It made me do terrible, horrible things!”

“It's all right luv, we'll take yew back ter yaaahr daddy,” said Price.  Talathiel stood patiently in the background, flanked by two guardsmen.  “The things kids do deese days.” For a moment, genuine concerned flashed over Price’s ugly mug. “Is the bit o’ fluff okay?””

“She’ll be fine.” Sebastian shook his head.  “No thanks to you.”

Price brought Letah to his feet, patting her on the shoulder.  “We’ll take it from here, guv.”  Letah looked at price with tear-streaked eyes.  “We’ll be sure ter brin' da perpetrators ter justice.” He winked back at her. 

The guardsmen marched out. Vlad slapped his forehead.

Price paused at the doorway.  “Got some news abaaaht yaaahr friends. That Roby chap was murdered, along wit’ two guards, Michael Evans and Thomas Clarke.  A shame, good chaps both.” He turned around, whistling to himself.  “Have a good day!”

“I found some gold and a wand back there,” said Beldin.  “But I thought it best if we kept that to ourselves.”  He handed the wand over to Sebastian.

Sebastian’s lip curled in disgust.  “This wand is used in rituals to animate the dead.”

Vlad looked down at Ilmarė.  She was blissfully unconscious.  “What exactly were they planning to do with her?”

Then Sebastian coughed.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 34: The Belly of the Beast - Introduction*

This is an adventure set in the Freeport setting, "Black Sails Over Freeport," written by William Simoni. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I did something different with this session, running two adventures simultaneously. What happens in this thread is that Kham’s past finally catches up to him.  Although it might not be immediately obvious, there are greater forces at work manipulating events, both for and against Kham.  Believe it or not, this is a spiritual journey as much as it is a physical one, and it requires quite a bit of suffering for our favorite val to come out on the other side, sanity and health intact.

The hulks as described here are based off of the actual hulks used in Victorian England.  As a result, they’re a lot more strict than the description in Freeport (which basically makes them big, hollowed out slums).  In reality, the hulks were a source of cheap labor, which is why they were kept around for so long even though the conditions were horrible.

I also used Dragon magazine’s article on prisons, which proved very useful in creating a guard framework and routine.  With the descriptions of the ships, the dwarven guards, and a blow-by-blow detail of what life was like in the hulks, the setting was ripe for a prison break.

Fortunately, Sebastian had a plan.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Prologue*

It was cold outside and the bedroom window stood wide open.  The curtains sighed into the room.  Kham watched himself sleeping, wrapping the sheets more tightly around his shoulders. They were ripped, shredded into long streamers. 

Cold metal touched his lips.  “Swallow this,” came Touldrix’s voice.  “You’ll thank me later.”

He swallowed a solid lump that felt heavy in his stomach.  When he rose from bed, the Undir was nowhere to be seen.

Kham stumbled out of the room.  Along unfamiliar corridors and across large chambers, he noticed marble, carpet, pass glass, velvet hangings, brick and porcelain, oil, and gold wood. 

 “It’s all a distraction,” he muttered. “All a distraction.”

There was a mask on the wall. He took it up, put it on. Then he saw Fleshripper and, without hesitation, picked it up. 

The robe of tattered cotton played out behind him, lending Kham a dignity commensurate with his task.  

And then he saw someone in a side corridor watching him.  It was his doppelganger, eager and worried, only it looked more feral and hungry, with bright red eyes, sharp fangs, and a long gray tongue…

Suddenly furious, Kham hurried over, gripping Fleshripper tightly.  

“You think you can stand in judgment over me?” he shrieked. “You think this has nothing to do with you?!” He wondered just what it was he was capable of.  “It is my crown! Mine!”

Kham whirled forward, Fleshripper singing.  Attack and defense were contrived and inexpert as they separated.  But blood bloomed thickly on his arm.  Kham held the wound and watched his double raise Fleshripper again…

Then the floor slammed into his chin.  Something cold and hard snapped around his wrists.  

“Pretty penny for you, mate,” came Price’s thickly accented voice, floating somewhere above his head.  “Nothin’ personal.” 

Only then did it occur to Kham that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 1 – The Guard Office*

The Guard Office was an ill-ventilated, confined, somber-looking place. There was a great want of room in the Office, considering the amount of the business that had to be transacted. It was crowded to suffocation, to the great annoyance of every one who had occasion to be present. 

Kham was dragged into his cell, and was sorry as soon as he arrived. The cells in the station house were narrow, damp, dark, and cold. 

His fellow prisoners ranged from citizens moving in the higher walks of life to the humblest of mankind. There were persons of every shade of character, all fallen low because of the allure of Ghoul Juice and its addictive qualities. 

Their appearance exhibited as much variety as their moral character. There was the tastefully dressed man of fashion, and the poor mendicant, wrapped up in a mass of dirty rags. There were some, both men and women, whose apparel, at the best, had only been of a humble description. There were others who were elegantly attired from the previous night, whose clothes were either torn to tatters, or covered over with mud. Hats without crowns, and minus the greater part of their brims to boot; coats converted, by the tails being torn off, into jackets; straw and silk bonnets transformed into shapes which the milliners that made them never intended; shawls and gowns either torn into fragments, or affording abundant evidence that their wearers had recently been paying their respects to the pavement. 

Because there was no room, Kham was shoved into a cell with another occupant. He was a thin man with a small belly that jutted out around his trousers; he had a wild head of gray-brown coarse hair, a scrubby beard and moustache, and very protuberant ears.  

“There’s no room, Mr. val’Abebi,” said the man with a smirk.  “The juicers are keeping the Guard busy these days. My name’s Wilfred Gresty.  Glad you could join me.”

Kham grunted.  “Gonna wake up soon,” he mumbled.  

“I need to thank you for the murder of Quelch,” said Gresty. “The word on the street is that you took care of him. I am sure it was hard to do, but he was a wicked man.  I know where to put trust and it was put well with you in this matter.”

Kham curled up on the floor. 

Gresty smiled a gap-toothed smile. “Now that we’re cell mates, we should know each other better.  I am from the west country, but Freeport has been my home for ten years now.” He nodded towards the drug addicts in the other cells. “It’s a chamber pot: pretty at a glance, but full of filth and stink.”

“Gotta leave,” mumbled Kham.

“You’d be well advised to do so, Mr. val’Abebi, although I fear these kind associates of ours won’t let you. As for me, I hope to go home soon to inherit.”

Kham rolled over.  Gresty took the feeble movement as encouragement to keep talking. 

“I am to take Atkinson’s place when the old man dies.  He cannot live two years at most.  He says I am here for the Goat.  But he owes me too and I will be paid what he owes me.  The woman at Nug’s Farm, well Mr. Carbo’s wife…the old man never had her. The child is not his.” Gresty giggled. “I laugh when I think he can make things wilder than dreams and blacker than nightmares but he cannot climb into her bed.  How his old loins must itch when he thinks of her.”

“Women…got me into this mess in the first place.”

Gresty waved the notion away. “So first we must play the last cards with Edwards and the King he follows.  Edwards needs Mr. Roby and if he gets him there will be hell to pay.  Worse I think, for hell is a weak imagining.”

“Lucius’ case is coming up soon,” said Kham.  “Real soon…don’t think he’s going anywhere.”

“Edwards will call on me too.  He needs me.  I will not answer.”

“Like when Quelch called for Coombs before.” Kham sat up, rubbed his eyes.  “You’re the same Gresty who wrote me that note.”

Gresty nodded.  “The world’s unstable now.  The King in Yellow is coming to Arcanis, and I’m the only one who knows how to stop him.  We must call on…” he looked over his shoulder at the other prisoners in the adjoining cells, “the Old Gods.”

Kham tried not to look at Gresty.  “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I cut mouths in my hands.”  Gresty held up his hands, which were bandaged but bloody from the gashes right across the palms.  “And I went to the old Altherian temple.  That temple sits there, growing fat sucking on the plague pits, pulling up power like the ssanu did from their own death pits.  I went to make my appeal to our Old Gods.  I called on Tizzhet, the Black Goat of the Woods, to leave the greensward to bring her Thousand Young.” 

“Althares’ ass,” said Kham.  “You’re one of those.”

Gresty chuckled nastily and pulled out a whistle.  “And I blew this for the last time, so Hastur knows that I am leaving the city. “ He yanked on it, breaking the string, and hurled the whistle away from him into a corner of the cell, spitting after it.  “Then that man came in and he started blabbering about Althares.  Ha!  In that place!”  He starts laughing helplessly. 

“What man?” asked Kham.

“Mr. Egil Thompson,” said Gresty.

“Great.” Kham sighed. “Just great.”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 2 – Gresty’s Sentencing*

A guard affixed manacles to Kham and Gresty.  Then he dragged them both out before the magistrate. To Kham’s surprise, Egil was present at the witness stand.

Magistrate Ivan Edward Snell said, in a sharp and hasty manner, “the next charge on the list?”

“Wilfred Gresty,” bawled out one of the sergeants, at the full stretch of a powerful voice, opening, as he spoke, a door that led to another room where the undisposed “charges” were congregated together.

“And the charge?”

“Breaking and entering,” said the sergeant.  “Trespassing and assault.”

“State your place of residence, sir,” said the magistrate.

“127a Brick Lane,” responded Gresty. 

“How do you plead?”

“Guilty to all three charges, your honor.  Though I claim the last accidental.”

The magistrate leaned forward.  “Do tell.”

Gresty shuffled in place.  “I’ve recently been…unwell.  I had been having trouble sleeping, and my memory of the night in question is confused, to be honest, your honor.”

Snell sighed.  “Try.”

“I know I couldn’t fall asleep at all and in the early hours, I must have gotten dressed and left the house.  As I passed the Temple of Althares, I felt a compulsion to pray.  I think I forced a window to enter.” Gresty held up his hands. “I must have bloodied my hands then. I remember praying before the altar, and then I heard Mr. Egil call out.  I panicked, and ran out the door that Mr. Egil had come in.  I didn’t see him as I ran out, or realize that I had knocked him over.”

Gresty turned to address Egil.  “Very sorry, sir.”

Egil looked distraught, but he nodded back.

“Since you have no prior convictions, I’m fining you two silver pieces plus the cost to repair the property at the Temple of Althares.”

The magistrate banged his gavel as Kham was dragged to the stand.

“The next charge on the list?”

“Kham val’Abebi,” said the sergeant.

“And the charge?”

The sergeant took a deep breath. “Breaking and entering. Assault of a government official.  Assault upon a Councilor’s personal guard. Incitement to riot. Murder of one Elijah Quelch.” The sergeant checked his list.  “Oh yes, possession of an illegal substance: ghoul juice.”

The magistrate’s eyebrows rose with each charge.  “Is there anything you haven’t done, Mr. val’Abebi? I’m afraid these charges are dire.  I’m moving this to the Fortress of Justice.”

“If I may—“ interrupted Egil.

“Tell it to the High Justice.” The magistrate banged his gavel once more.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 3 – The Fortress of Justice*

It was one of those charming Freeport mornings, when a kind of triangular duel took place between the rain, the fog, and the smoke, all fiercely battling for mastery. The result of their contest was an unanimous agreement on the part of all three to half-drench Freeport with drizzling raindrops, largely mingled with soot, and half-choke and half-blind everyone else with coal smoke combined with the native odor, so it would seem, of the Aval marshes, which exhilarated perfume in the shape of fog.

Kham awoke out of his drug-induced fog to the sound of Price’s voice once more.

“’Ere now, we’ve got ter stop meetin' like dis, mate.”

“Trust me,” muttered Kham.  “I’ve been trying very hard to avoid you.” They marched him through the streets to a carriage.

The Fortress of Justice loomed into view, a splendid building. The southern, northern, and western fronts were of white stone, but the eastern had red bricks interspersed with the stone, as did the interior courts and quadrangles. Dwarf towers, arches, and other features relieved each front; and there were two high towers, one at the south-east angle, and one at the eastern end, the former of which was one hundred and seventy feet in height.

“Aww, don’t be mad,” said Price as they got out of the carriage. “Got me a promoshun, I did. I work fer da magistrate ‘imself, matter ov fact. Me savin' 'is arse from a bomb did me some good.”

The general height of the great building was about ninety-five feet; and above its main block towered the large Central Hall, which from its base to the top of its roof measured one hundred and forty feet. The architect's plan had given accommodation to no less than eighteen distinct courts of law, each with its own entrance and staircase, and separate approaches and doors for the judges, the jury, the witnesses, the bar, and the public, together with rooms for clerks, secretaries, and registrars; and also waiting rooms. 

Price rambled on as they strode into the courts. “Seems you’re a lot mawer impawtan' van I thought. Honestly, I could give a fig who yew shoot,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “as long it’s not me, ‘caaahrse. But yew musta pissed someone off, mate, ‘cause they were in a fix ter snap yew up. And leave i' ter old Price ter do it!”

The guards dragged him into the hall. There were a great many arches supported on massive pillars in the hall; and, on the whole, it struck Kham that an unnecessary number of thousands of gold doubloons have been lavished on the construction of a gigantic vestibule into which the public have been distinctly warned that they have no right of entrance unless they were personally concerned in some matter which was before the Court. 

Kham blinked, trying to focus.  “I’m sure this has nothing to do with the bounty on my head.”

Price flashed him a gap-toothed smile. “Bounty?  Why, whatever do yew mean, chap?” He clapped a hand on Kham’s shoulder.  “Now we’re gon'a take yew ter caaahrts. Try ter be civil, right? Don’t wan' ter get yaaahrself in'er mawer ov a bind then yer already in.”

To Kham’s left was a kind of darksome bower in which an attendant was sitting in a grove of overcoats and umbrellas, all emitting the approved Freeport Particular Law Courts smell. Kham hated that smell.

At length the guards piloted him up a narrow and gloomy staircase and into a corridor narrower and gloomier still. First turning to the right; second turning to the left. Then he encountered a great rush of lawyers' clerks and people of indescribable mien who apparently had some business in that most unlovely place. 

The courtroom was scarcely an imposing one; it was only one of a series of ugly, mean, and shabby rooms, quite unsuitable for the dispensation of justice, to say nothing of dignity, in Freeport. It was ill-lit, ill-ventilated, and full of the old Freeport Particular Law Court odor, which grew stronger and stronger as the Bar, the attorneys with their clerks, the jury, and the witnesses trooped in. 

There was a little pen with appliances for writing in which a group of two or three, swelling imperceptibly to double that number of gentlemen, were gathered and began to refer to their notebooks. These persons Kham instinctively recognized as representatives of the press. 

He turned around to look at the barristers' seats, which rose amphitheatrical till the rearmost were lost in the misty distance. The counsel learned in the law had begun to muster with some strength; and presently he recognized more than one eminent barrister and several rising stuff-gownsmen.

“Who did you say you worked for?” asked Kham through gritted teeth.

“Why Justice Angus McGowan,” said Price with a touch of reverence in his voice.  “A learned judge. Black le'er scholar, so they say. Experienced, impartial, clear-sighted, 'igh-minded, an' altogether exemplary luminary ov da law, 'e is.”

Kham’s posture slumped.  “I’m screwed, aren’t I.’

“Yep,” said Price.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 4 – Lucius Roby’s Sentencing*

His lordship was the most punctual of judges, and at the stroke of ten thirty Justice McGowan emerged from a little door as though he were one of the automata which once flanked the dial of the great clock; he bowed with somewhat of an air of cast-iron courtesy to the Bar and the spectators generally, and took his seat on the Bench.

The jury came tumbling into the dock and went through, in the usual uncouth and ungainly fashion, the process of being sworn. In a minute or so, the swearing-in completed, the jurymen settled down in their places, looking, on the whole, as if they knew that they were about to be profoundly bored.

“Deese gentlemen ‘ere,” pointed Price, “re Barrister Buzfuz an' Barrister Anders, wiv their juniors, Mr. Skimpin an' Mr. Phunky. Mr. Pickwick no longer wears shorts an' black gaiters, yet 'e still sits occasionally on da low bench just benearf da desks ov da Sea Lord's Counsel.”

Kham noted that the desks were constructed for the convenience of attorneys who from that spot could whisper into the ear of the leading counsel in the case any instructions that might be necessary during the progress of the trial. 

“THAT’S my defense?”

Of all the men of law, Anders was the most distinct, for she was not a man at all.  She was clearly of orc heritage, although Anders made an effort to present herself in the most civilized manner possible.  Her lustrous black hair was immaculately cleaned and pulled back into a single long brad.  Highly polished calf-high black boots added to her imposing demeanor.  Anders’ hazel eyes watched the world through gold-rimmed glasses.  She wore a black silk glove on her left hand and walked with the aid of a custom-made steel cane. 

“Aye.  ‘er left hand and leg were crippled once when she tried t’ snatch a bone from a mastiff.” Price shook his head in disbelief. “She’s a tough one, that.”

The witness-box looked like a kind of pulpit with a brass rail, and in the background, high up towards the gallery, there was the same numerous muster of gentlemen in wigs and gowns, who presented as a body all that pleasing and extensive variety of nose and moustaches that were pretty plentiful, and even beards made a far from infrequent appearance among the Counsel.

“We call upon the case of Mr. Lucius Roby versus the People.”

Kham cocked his head.  “Lucius?”

Price leaned in, arms crossed.  “Aye. The world don’t revolve around you, mate.”

Justice McGowan wrapped his black robes round him and, comfortably ensconced among his cushions, seemed to be taking his first nap. 

“He asleep?”

“Awww, nah,” said Price. “Don’t be led away ter adopt an erroneous inference by da triflin' circumstance what Justice McGowan is ter all appearance fast asleep durin' a greater part ov da cases 'eard befawer 'im. He contrives ter follow every sen'ence in da addresses ov counsel fer da plaintiff an' da defendant, an' every jot an' title in da examinashun an' cross-examinashun ov da witnesses. It is only Justice McGowan's way ter close 'is eyes an' ter appear ter be wrapped in da arms ov Morpheus. When da time fer summin' up arrives, i' turns aaaht what 'e 'as made careful notes ov da entire body ov evidence, an' 'e proceeds ter astonish da jury by da exhaustiveness ov 'is knowledge ov da sui' an' da lucidi'y an' cogency ov 'is commun's thereon. Trust me, I’ve seen i' befawer.”

Kham looked sideways at Price.  “Sometimes I can’t understand a damn thing you say.”

Mr. Skimpin opened the case in a not very interesting succession of drawls, lisps, and sniffs, and then barrister Anders proceeded to address the jury for the plaintiff. 

Listening to Skimpin, in whose nasal organ perhaps the sound of the loud bassoon was too frequently audible, one might yield to the pleasant presumption that if there existed on the face of this earth an individual who was only a little lower than the angels, that person was Mr. Roby. Somehow or another, Anders, contrived to mingle with the merely legal elements in her client's case the information, doubtless so highly pleasing to the jury, that Mr. Roby was a devoted librarian. 

“The plaintiff's learning,” Anders, continued, “is prodigious; and as for his lexicon, it might be read from cover to cover by a whole High School full of Young Persons, and all the sweet girl-graduates of the Freeport Institute to boot.”

Then he put Egil into the box as a witness. 

“Oh, e’s gonna make a mess of it, ‘e is,” said Price. 

Egil spoke with a very low and foggy voice to begin with, and he had a deplorable habit of biting his nails when he was asked a question.  

Egil’s voice was so indistinct that Justice McGowan woke up and exclaimed, "Speak up, sir!" in such a thunderous tone that the unhappy Egil collapsed for a moment over the brass rail of the witness-box. 

The poor man had really a plain tale to tell, only he failed to tell it plainly; and even his friendly advocate was compelled every so often to snort at him half-angrily and to entreat him not to wander from the point.

Kham rubbed his forehead.  

“It gets worse,” said Price.  “Buzfuz ain’t got to him yet.” Barrister Buzfuz, who led for the defendant, had been eyeing Egil and licking his lips throughout the whole of his examination. 

Then came the hideous agony of cross-examination. Buzfuz rended the unhappy Egil, figuratively speaking, limb from limb. He cut him up into ten thousand pieces; he tied slow matches between Egil’s fingers and set them alight; he heated copper basins and clapped them on the shuddering priest’s pate; he turned Egil inside out, and then suspended him by the hair of his head, tied to a rope which passed through a pulley in the ceiling of the court.

At the expiration of about half-an-hour's torture, this wretchedest of Egils emerged from the witness-box, streaming with perspiration, staggering feebly, and groping in the air with his hands as though he had been dazed with some fierce light. 

So he had. Bozfoz had brought his biggest guns to bear upon him, and what with the fire and the smoke, and the smell of villainous saltpeter, the poor wretch was for the moment all but bereft of his senses. 

The jury looked upon Egil more scornfully than compassionately. While Egil was being examined by Anders, their countenances seemed to show that they considered Lucius Roby to be an honest man, although a bit of a blunderer. But when Bozfoz was done with Egil, and flung his remains into the well of the Court, to be picked up and put together again by his solicitor, the jury had come to the conclusion that if there ever cumbered the earth a hardened miscreant deaf to every dictate of honor and morality - a despicable caitiff who would think nothing of committing murder, libeling the continent, and setting Freeport on fire - that wretch was Lucius Roby. 

“Wonder why Roby didn’t retain Bozfoz,” said Price.

“Who can afford him?” asked Kham.  “His own brother wants Lucius in prison.  And I hear Grahame’s got money.”

“Aye, it’s all about that, innit gov?”

When it came up that there was another witness for the defendant, the magistrate inquired as to whom.  A whispered conference indicates that said defendant was charged with murder, whereupon Kham’s testimony was thrown out without ever being heard.  

The magistrate summed up the evidence, including Lucius Roby’s confession.  The jury was directed to consider their verdict.

The officer of the Court put the usual question: “How say you, do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”

The foreman replied, “Guilty.”

That was enough for McGowan.  “Lucius Roby is hereby sentenced to The Hulks, effective immediately.  The next charge on the list?”

“Kham val’Abebi.”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 5 – Kham val’Abebi’s Sentencing*

“People of the jury,” began Anders. “I ask you to consider the plight of poor Kham val’Abebi.  Today you see him in a sorry state.  But his life is in your hands.  And it is a precious life indeed.”

Anders began to pace.  “Kham val’Abebi is a noble man from a humble upbringing.  His father is none other than Corinalous val’Abebi, recently deceased at the hands of Drak Scarbelly. It is no wonder, then, that he incited a riot with orcs; knowing his father was assassinated by one of their kind, we’re fortunate that Mr. val’Abebi did not do more harm to an orc or to himself.  While his actions are not laudable, the pitch of emotions he must have felt at the time certainly ran hot.  We must forgive him for his impertinence in sharing his beliefs on orc heritage.  It was poorly timed words during a sensitive row in the street.”

Anders’ heritage suddenly seemed like a stroke of genius to Kham. 

Anders nodded towards Kham.  “As for the subsequent murder of Elijah Quelch, it is believed that Mr. Quelch had connections to one Michael Coombs, a vicious thug also tied to the bombings.  When Mr. val’Abebi accosted Mr. Quelch in the street, he resisted.  Slipping on the ice, Mr. Quelch fell off the bridge and into the murky canal.  Had Mr. val’Abebi planned to commit murder, he would most certainly have simply shot him with his pistols, of which he is well known for.”

Anders turned towards the jury.  “Taking into account Mr. val’Abebi’s good standing, his noble heritage, and his efforts in the Freeport community, I ask you to consider leniency in your sentencing, and merely confine Mr. val’Abebi to The Tombs.  Thank you.”

Bozfoz took the stand.

“You have no doubt heard the pathetic plight of the defendant.” He pointed at Kham.  “But I am here to examine not Mr. val’Abebi’s character but the nature of his crimes.  I think you will see when I am finished here that this man deserves the Hulks.”

Bozfoz put his hands behind his back.  “What Ms. Anders failed to elucidate upon was the despicable form in which Mr. val’Abebi’s crimes were perpetrated. On the charge of murder, Mr. val’Abebi hunted down Mr. Quelch and, we believe, shot him several times.  The reason Ms. Anders didn’t mention the bullet wounds is because we have yet to recover Mr. Quelch’s body.  It was last seen floating down the canal into the ocean. Rest assured, the reason Mr. val’Abebi is here is because of the loud retort of his gunshots, which were heard by several Freeport citizens.  That, and all the screaming.”

Bozfoz shook his head.  “After that, high on Ghoul Juice, Mr. val’Abebi then proceed to burglarize Mr. Quelch’s home, stealing at least one book and setting the dead man’s basement on fire.”

He paused.  “Shall I go on?  When Councilor Verlaine’s guards came to arrest Mr. val’Abebi, he shot the sergeant with two pistols…in the face.  When Mr. val’Abebi couldn’t get the answer that he wanted from Mr. Reed, Freeport’s esteemed record keeper, he shot him in the leg.  There’s more, but I will let one of my first witnesses testify, who will most assuredly reinforce the importance of confining Mr. val’Abebi to the Hulks before he hurts someone else or himself.  I call to the stand Mr. Kolter.”

A small gnome with a limp took the stand.

“Mr. Kolter,” said Bozfoz.  “Please tell the jury what your relationship is with Mr. val’Abebi.”

The shifty-eyed gnome hesitated before squarely looking at Kham.  “My family had suffered harassment from citizens of Altheria, who by their nature are a prejudiced breed, as evidenced by Mr. Kham’s rioting.”

Justice McGowan cleared his throat.  “You’re not a barrister, Mr. Kolter.  Please stick to your testimony.”

“Ah, yes.  Well, my family and I finally decided to move out when Mr. Kham ambushed us. He held us up at gunpoint and stole our plans for our family business, Kolter Clockworks.”

“Please tell the jury what it is Mr. val’Abebi stole, specifically?”

“The plans to the Clockwork Pistol,” said Kolter.

“I object!” shouted Anders.  “Mr. Kolter is in league with Dirwin Arnig, a member of the Captain’s Council and, thanks to Arnig’s bankrolling, just recently opened the Kolter Clockworks Factory.  This information is prejudicial—“

“Overruled,” said the magistrate.  “Mr. val’Abebi can share his version of the story and we’ll let the jury decide.”

Kham swayed at the stand.  He raised one finger, undoubtedly the prelude to an eloquent defense.  Instead, it came out as the bastardized child of a frog’s croak and a hoarse scream.

“You no good little twisted maggot!” shouted Kham.  “The flintlocks are a gift from Althares!  You stole it from our people!  I was doing my country a favor by taking those plans from you!  I should have shot you when I had the chance!”

McGowan banged his gavel to no avail in attempt to shut Kham up.  It finally took Price, who squeezed Kham’s shoulder, to calm him down.

“Well,” said Price.  “You showed ‘em.”

The magistrate summed up the evidence, including Kham’s defense.  The jury was directed to consider their verdict.

The officer of the Court put the usual question: “How say you, do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”

The foreman replied, “Guilty.”

“Kham val’Abebi is hereby remanded to The Hulks, effective immediately.”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 6a – The Hulks*

Kham was manacled hand and foot and marched out to a dock, along with four of his fellow prisoners.  

“Shouldn’t Lucius be here?” asked Kham, looking around.

“Aye, but ‘e was in The Tombs,” said Price.  “They’ve got ter go get 'im. Don’t matter mate, you’re gon'a get a boat load ov new friends.”  He looked almost sad. 

At the end of the dock, Kham felt a tingling, probably some kind of magical defense.  Six dwarves, their faces covered in ash and soot, stood sullenly at the end of the docks.  

“Get in,” said the guard captain gruffly.

“See yew in a 'undred years.” Price waved at Kham and then marched away.

Kham was practically thrown into a rowboat, dragged along with the four other prisoners.  The guards piled in after him.

“Now row,” said the captain. 

The rowing was long and hard, but it gave Kham plenty of time to take in his new home. 

The two hulks, the Defense and the Unite, were moored head to head. The bulky hammock-houses were reared upon their decks, their barred portholes and their rows of prisoners' linen swinging from between the stunted poles that served them as masts. Nearly a mile farther down the heavy form of another hulk, the Warrior, moored close alongside the Dockyard, with the little, ugly Sulfur, a washing-ship, lay in the offing.

The Warrior’s appearance was particularly striking.  Her square-cut stern and quarter-galleries stamped her at once with the hallmark of antiquity, and her bluff bow showed that she, at any rate, could never have distinguished herself for a high rate of speed. 

The prisoners rowed past a cordon of buoys moored around the yellow-painted hulk at a distance of about seventy yards.   Kham took note of it.

Kham was to be elevated to the deck of the Warrior by a rough lift.  All five of them were pushed onto it.  Other prisoners slowly winched them up.  

When the prisoners were finally hauled up onto the deck, bristling dwarves and something large and metallic loomed over them. It strode with thundering steps; one arm was a gigantic crossbow with two large bolts the size of a man’s arm.  The other had three stubby fingers.    

“Get a good look,” said the guard captain, pointing at the sky.  “That’s the last breath of fresh air you’ll take as a free man.”

He turned away and was replaced by a twitchy dwarf who paced the deck in front of the new prisoners.

“My name is Warden Darunthar,” said the dwarf. “Welcome to your home for the next two years.  If you’re good, you might get your sentence reduced.  If you’re bad; well, I won’t lie to you, this will be the last place you ever see. Here’s how it works: you’re divided into three classes, First, Second, and Third.  The class you’re in depends on your character.  The good news is every man in my eyes is a blank slate.  That can be a good thing or a bad thing. If you’re a murderer; well that doesn’t mean anything to me.  You’re just as liable for good conduct badges as you are for bad ones.  If you were somebody important, in a gang or something, you can forget special treatment.  We’ll beat you bloody just like the rest.”

Kham laughed.

Darunthar leaned close to Kham. “You going to give me trouble, val?”

“Yep,” said Kham.  His entire body pulsed with psychic energy as Kham smashed his forehead into Darunthar’s head.  The dwarf stumbled backwards, clutching his face.  Blood dripped from it.

“Split my lip, will you?”  Darunthar spat blood onto the wood of the deck.  “Clank, show the val what we do to guests who give us trouble.”

There was a blinding light as Kham’s face connected with the deck.  Something cold and hard was wrapped around his head.  Kham didn’t have to look up to know it was the golem.

“You’ll make a good example,” said Darunthar.  “I mentioned classes.  Every day, a mark goes down on this book.” He pointed at another dwarf holding a large logbook. “You can be ranked Very Good, Good, Nil, Bad, Very Bad, or Punishment. Be good and you’ll make it to First Class. Be bad and you’ll go down to the decks. First Class prisoners stay in the top deck. Second Class prisoners stay in the second deck.  Third Class prisoners get the bottom of the ship.  Mr. val here is going down to Third Class with a mark of Very Bad.”

“Kiss my ass,” snarled Kham.

“Just for that,” said Darunthar, “you’re getting a mark of Punishment instead.  You’re going to share a cell with another troublemaker.  You and Scarbelly will make a nice couple.  I’ve heard of how fond you are of orcs.”  Darunthar smiled through bloodstained teeth.  “I’m sure they’ll give you a warm reception.”

Kham struggled to rise to his feet once the iron golem released his head, but he found himself overcome with shakes.  

“Oh that’s right,” said Darunthar.  “You’re a juicer.  Well, you’ll find no juice here.  If the withdrawal doesn’t kill you, the orcs certainly will.”

The guards began making bets about Kham’s odds on survival when he blacked out.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 6b – The Hulks*

Strong iron rails, running from one end to the other, divided the bottom deck into two long cages with a passage between them. In this passage a warder paced to and fro, commanding a view of the prisoners, who were slung up in hammocks, fastened in two rows, in each cage of the ship. There was also a little transverse passage at the end of each ward that allowed the officer on duty to take a side view of the sleepers, and to cast the light of his bull's-eye lantern under the hammocks to assure himself that the men were quiet in their beds.

The deep-toned bell against the forecastle sounded three bells. In a minute scores and scores of men tumbled out of their beds, wriggling and stretching themselves in their blue shirts.

"All up! Turn out, men!" cried the officer; and the prisoners were in their trousers in an inconceivably short time.

Kham looked up from the deck.  He had lost control of his bodily functions in the night.  He felt like he had been turned inside out.  Everything ached.

“Ye had a rough night,” said Scarbelly.  The one-eyed orc’s ugly snout poked into view.  “Didn’t think ye’d make it.”

“What do you know…” gasped Kham, “…greenskin.”

“I know what a liability looks like,” said Scarbelly.  “Me beauty, yer me bunkmate, so what happens t' ye happens t' me. Now get up!”

Kham was half-lifted by Scarbelly yanking on the chain around his wrists.  He slowly, painfully rose to his feet.

Presently the gates were opened, and the prisoners turned out one after another, carrying their bolster-like beds on their shoulders.

"Now men, go on there! Steady, steady!" exclaimed the officer. "Come on, men! Come on, the rest of you!" he shouted. 

The prisoners appeared in single file, some carrying one hammock and others two. Those who carried two had, in addition to their own bed, that of a fellow-prisoner, who remained below to forward other work. Some of the men were fully dressed in their brown striped prisoner's suit, while others were in their blue shirtsleeves. 

The officers continued shouting to the men and hastening their movements. "Come on with that hammock! Come on now!"

Long lines of men, with their hammocks upon their shoulders, wound along the decks. The sides of the black hammock-houses were open, discovering lettered compartments, as A 1, A 2, B 1, etc. The warders on duty went into the houses to ensure the hammocks stowed, as the prisoners delivered them, under their proper letters, varying the work by directions.

"Shove that a bit forward there. Now then, stow away there, my lads, stow away! Do you belong here? How came you so late? Any more C 1? Is that the last of C 1? Now then, come on, lads! Move up!"

Still the brown line of men moved forward to the hammock-houses, each hammock bearing the prisoner's registered number stitched upon it and the word Warrior printed on the canvas.

Their gear stowed, everyone began to wash in buckets, placed ready over night; while other prisoners arranged their hair by the reflection of the windowpane; and others scrubbed the tables ready for breakfast. 

Everything and everybody seemed to be undergoing a cleansing process more or less searching.  Prisoners covered the white deal tables with painted canvas tablecloths; there were groups of men, down on one knee, brushing their boots, while the messmen were busy at the preparations for breakfast. 

The tables, ranged in a row along the wards, accommodated eight prisoners each. Each man took his turn as messman, while the service of the ward was divided. Kham sat shoulder to shoulder with orcs; Scarbelly on one side, a nasty orc with a scar running the length of his scalp on the other.

"Where's your plates? Where's your plates?" cried the messmen.  

Something brown clattered on the plate in front of Kham.  A syrupy liquid was sloshed into his cup.

Kham turned and emptied what little contents were left in his stomach onto the floor.

One of the orcs hopped up.  “No good pinkskin! I’ll gut ye from stem t' stern—“

“Ye’ll do no such thin', “growled Scarbelly.  “Thank t' val fer givin' ye his food today.”

The orc squinted at Scarbelly. Then he slowly slid back in his seat.  With a powerful swipe, he snatched the bread and cocoa from Kham’s place at the table and began scarfing down both meals.

“Yer father was a good man,” said Scarbelly.  “I’m sorry t’hear we didn’t stop Coombs in time.”

The empty vessels were returned to the galley, and washed by two prisoners, appointed as "Inspectors" of Weights and Provisions for the day. 

A thorough cleansing of the ship, including decks, poop, and forecastle next took place, at which prisoners continue employed still. Kham was half-dragged by the orcs.

“Come on, ye stupid sack, or we’ll fail muster!” hissed one of them.

The muster of the prisoners commenced. Two officers were occupied in the wards. The prisoners were all ranged behind the tables.

“Silence! Keep silence there!" shouted an officer; and then, while one officer called the names of the prisoners, the other marked down the absentees upon a slate. 

As each name was called, the prisoner owning it responded, "Yessir," accompanying his reply with a military salute. The replies of "Yessir," in every variety of voice, ran along the wards.

This ceremony over, the registering officers retired, and the warder on duty padlocked the prisoners in once more. The same routine was performed for the prisoners at work—the cooks, bakers, and the like. 

"All correct, sir!" said the registering warder to the chief.

"Now, then, A ward!" was shouted down the hatchway.

Instantly four prisoners appear, following one another. 

"That's for A ward. B ward!" was next shouted down. "Now, then, B ward here!" 

And in this way the messmen of the various wards were summoned from their decks, to fetch the breakfasts of their comrades, the messmen of each deck appearing at different hatchways.

The messmen moved along in file towards the ship's galley, and presently they reappeared, each man carrying a large beer can full of cocoa, the bread taken down in baskets, and served out by the officers at the ward-doors.

“T' doctor’ll be here soon,” said Scarbelly.  “Ye should see him.”

Kham was too sick to disagree.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 6c – The Hulks*

At half-past six the doctor came on board. An officer went round shouting in the wards, "Any men to see the doctor?" 

Kham joined five other men appear in answer, formed in line near the galley-door. They were ushered one by one into the little surgery.  The serious cases were ushered into a trap door, where they passed at once down into a little separate room underneath.

The doctor, a gaunt scarecrow of a man, looked Kham up and down.  “And what’s wrong with you?”

Kham swayed slightly.  “I…I don’t…”

“Pfft, you’re just a lousy juicer,” said the doctor.  He slapped Kham a couple of times on the cheek.  “You’ll either die from the stuff or get over it.  Either way it’ll be decided by tomorrow.  Back to the bunk with you!”

Kham shuffled back to his cell in time to be called back again. .

At a quarter-past seven the officers for duty ashore were called over by the chief warder, while a principal checked them. Twelve extra guards, composed chiefly of soldiers, and some wearing clasps upon their warder's uniform filed down the steps, ready to receive the prisoners. The prisoners began to appear above the hatchways, marching in single file towards the gangway, with a heavy and rapid tread. 

It seemed to Kham like there was a never-ending line of prisoners that streamed across the deck, down the gangway, the steps rattling as they descended one after another into the capacious boat.  

And through it all were the cries of the officer at the ship's side, "Come, look sharp there, men! Look sharp!"

“Now what?” groaned Kham.

“Work,” said Scarbelly.  “Even in prison we orcs can’t get away from bein' used for cheap labor. Ha!”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 7 – Hard Labor*

The rowers held their oars raised in the air, as the brown line of men flowed rapidly into the cutter below. Some seated themselves in the stem, but the large majority stood in a dense mass in the bottom of the long low craft, dotted here and there by the dark dress of the officers planted in the midst of them. In fine weather no less than one hundred prisoners were landed in each of the boats.

The long boats glided slowly to the pier, their dense human freight painted brown on the stream. And scarcely had one boat landed its felon crew before another was filled, and making for the shipyards and the shore. 

“We’re building ships?”

“Aye.”  Scarbelly continued to row in sync with Kham.  Because they were chained together, they were learning to do a lot of things together. “Freeport’s lookin' t' build itself a fleet.”

“For what?” asked Kham.

“For war,” said Scarbelly.

The prisoners clambered up to the parade ground and fell in line there with military precision; separated according to the chief officer's directions into working parties (each working party being in charge of a warder).  They moved off to the scene of their day's labor, in long brown strings. 

The prisoner crew stood drawn up in lines, headed by their respective officers. 

“Now what?”

“Searches,” said Scarbelly. “Sometimes t' men try t' make a run for it while they’re on land.”

“Any of them make it?”

Scarbelly squinted up at the sun.  Shadowy bat figures circled overhead.  “Not a one.”

The officers proceeded to search under the prisoner’s waistcoats and to examine their neckcloths. 

The searching and arrangement of the working parties or gangs effected, the officer gave the word of command, "Cover!" then, "Face-forward!" and each gang wheeled off to the direction of its work, the men walking two abreast, and the rear brought up by the officer in charge.

As the several gangs left the parade ground, the officer in charge gave the number of his gang, and that of his men. The gangs were numbered from one to thirty. Kham’s work gang officer called, "Two-eight!" That was gang number two, containing eight men.

For the first time in a long time, Kham worked very, very hard.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 8 – The Rings*

The prisoners left their afternoon's work at a quarter-past five, so as to be all collected by half-past. The slanting rays of the sun threw long shadows from the cutters over the water, and the evening light sparkled warmly upon the tide, and danced as it caught every polished point of the dense mass, while the boats advance towards the hulk.

On the cutters reaching the hulk, the prisoners streamed up the gangway in single file as before - then poured down the hatchways, into their respective wards, where gruel was at once served out to them. They were allowed to rest till chapel-time, at half-past six o'clock.

Kham was exhausted.  He was practically slumped over the table. 

“Ye should choke somethin’ down,” said Scarbelly.  “Or ye’ll only get weaker.”

Kham looked up at the orc.  “Why do you care?”

Scarbelly took a deep breath.  “Truth be told, I’d rather gut ye myself. But ye were done wrong, just like I be, by Kenzil an' his legacy. Ye lost a father t' him. Me, I just lost an eye an' a leg.”  He rapped one calloused fist on his wooden peg leg. 

“This doesn’t mean we’re friends, orc.”

Scarbelly nodded.  “I wouldn’t be havin' it any other way. But if we’re goin' t' survive here, we’d better learn t' trust each other. If I wanted t', I could snap yer neck while ye sleep ye know.”

Kham swallowed hard.

After chapel, at eight o'clock, the men were mustered in their wards and the gates of the wards locked for the night. 

The officer cried, "The muster's over!" 

The men jumped up, tables disappeared, forms were ranged along the sides of the ward, and each man got his hammock from the corner in which they were piled in the afternoon by the boarders. In a few minutes all the hammocks were slung, and the men talking together. 

"The division is for school to-morrow," cried an officer.

Shortly after, each man was beside his hammock, preparing for bed.

“I found this,” said Scarbelly.  The orc placed something in Kham’s palm.

“What is it?” asked Kham.  He peered at what looked like a small black marble.

“I dunno, but it was with ye when ye got on board.”

“I didn’t have any clothes when I got here,” said Kham.

Scarbelly shook his head.  “I didn’t say it was on ye.  It was in ye.”

Kham blinked.  He sniffed the marble.  Then he recoiled.  “Oh.”

“So I take it ye didn’t know ye was carryin’ that around in your gut? Orcs can carry much more than that in their stomachs, ye know.”

Kham shook his head.  “I didn’t,” he remembered Touldrix’s voice, “but I think I know what it is.”  He grabbed both sides of the marble and twisted.  It opened to reveal two rings.  

“Magic,” whispered Scarbelly. 

Kham nodded.  “Well, orc, you’ve got more friends than I thought.”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 9 – Krysos Boz*

The next day was more of the same.  The prisoners returned to the parade grounds, where a strict search of the prisoners was once again made by the warders to ensure that they had not secreted anything while at work. The men opened their waistcoats and pulled off their cravats, as before, to facilitate the operation.

The search over, the men descended the stairs, in gangs, to the cutters.  They returned to the hulk in the order in which they left her in the morning. 

"Now, Mr. B--, bring your men up!" A long boat approached, crammed with men and warders.

"Hoist your oars!" cried an officer as the cutter touched the hulk. The warders landed first, and then they hurried the men up the gangway steps. As soon as they reached the deck they advanced, in single file, to their respective hatchways, and descended at once to their wards. The tread of the two hundred prisoners sounded almost like thunder rolling under the decks. 

The prisoners were are at once locked up in their wards, where their tin mug and plate were turned upside down, one upon the other, around each mess-table, previous to dinner.

Prisoners appeared at the end of the wards with large clothesbaskets full of bread.

"3-7; 4-8; and 5-8!" cries the warder, as he dispensed the loaves to each mess.

The mess-men of these gangs advanced to the gate of the ward, and received their proper quantities for their respective messes. Some messes had a loaf and a quarter, others two whole loaves, according to their numerical strength. The prisoners divided the quantities themselves. 

It was then that Kham noticed that there was no bread left for him.

There was also upon the mess-tables a deal-board to cut up the meat upon.  A prisoner came below carrying knife-bags, and distributed them according to the number of men in each compartment. 

"To your table, men!" cried the chief warder; and accordingly the prisoners arranged themselves in their proper seats.

"Now A ward!" was shouted down the hatchway. "Come on here. One, two, and three!" 

A prisoner from each mess answered the call. Presently the messmen returned, each carrying a small tub full of meat, and a net full of potatoes, together with the supper bread. 

One man at each mess served out the potatoes into tin plates. Then there was a cry of, "All up!"

The prisoners rose and grace to Illiir was said. When the prisoners were re-seated, a man proceeded at once to cut up the meat upon the mess-board. The dinner was portioned out. 

After the meat was cut into portions, the meat-board was pushed into the middle of the table, and each man took the piece nearest to him. Then the peeling of potatoes went actively forward, and the prisoners were soon fairly engaged upon their meal, talking the while in a low, rumbling tone.

A man sat across from Kham that he hadn’t seen before.  He was bearded, with a red bandana tied around his head.  

The orcs that always surrounded Scarbelly moved towards them from other tables, but the orc captain kept them at bay with a gesture.  He wanted to see what the man had to say.

He took a big bite of a piece of bread.  Kham’s piece of bread.  “So the dirty orc lover is still alive.  Well,” he said around chews, “I don’t care if you’re Finn’s flunky or not.  On this boat, Krysos Boz is the boss.”

Kham sighed. “You’re talking about yourself in third person, aren’t you.”

Krysos leaned forward, jabbing a finger in Kham’s face.  “I can do more to you than talk, if you like.”

“Well,” Kham rose to his feet.  “I think I’m going to go take a walk.”  With a snap of his wrist, he looped the length of chain that tied him to Scarbelly around Krysos’ neck.  “What do you think Scarbelly?”

“I think I’m goin' t' go visit me buckos over thar.”  The orc captain winked with his good eye.  

Before Krysos could protest, the orc and the val walked in opposite directions, yanking the chain taut.  Krysos was lifted into the air.  His face turned bright red and he let out a low gurgle.

"Not too much talking there! Silence! Silence here! " cried the warder.

Kham and Scarbelly switched places at the table, dropping Krysos to the ground as the chain went slack.  

“You’re…a dead man,” he choked out.  Then he went back to his table.

“I think I just made another enemy,” sighed Kham.

The orcs were smirking at him.  

Scarbelly clapped him on the back. “And ye just made some new friends.”


----------



## Fimmtiu

Brilliant stuff! Keep going. It'll be neat to see how they get out of this one...


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 9 – Aggro*

One day blurred into the next.  Kham quickly became caught up in the routine.  The arrival of new prisoners was always an event.

The orc that was dragged on board that morning was different than the rest, primarily due to his hulking size.  He had a gray tinge to him, but it was his rippling muscles that distinguished the beast.  He wore no shoes, and his great clawed feet splayed on the deck like deformed lobsters.  Kham recognized those feet.

“Aggro!” shouted Scarbelly during dinner.  They were eating gruel.  “What ye be doing here?”

Aggro flashed Scarbelly a sly grin.  It wasn’t a pretty sight.  “I come t’ bring ye a message. We’re going t’ make a break for it.”

“When?” asked Kham.

“Tomorrow,” said Aggro.  “It took awhile for t’ courts to arraign me.”

“What’d ye do?” asked Scarbelly.

Aggro shrugged.  “I kept beatin’ guards in the face until a bunch of ‘em knocked me out.”

Scarbelly snorted.  “And where’d ye get that new scar?”

Aggro had a jagged pink scar that zig-zagged its way down his bare chest.  “Ah, this?  I got it fightin’ that fuzzy stumper friend of yers,” he poked Kham in the chest with one dirty fingernail.  “He be all orc on t’ inside.”

Kham couldn’t suppress his own grin.  “Especially if you call Beldin a fuzzy stumper.  So I take it there’s some intelligence behind this plan?”

Aggro nodded.  “All the orcs are workin’ together.” 

One of the guards walked towards them. Aggro made them nervous.

“I’ll tell ye more tomorrow.”


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 10a – The Rescue*

At length one o'clock sounded. At five minutes past a guard went down the gangway with fixed bayonets, followed by one of the principal warders.    

"Now, then, turn the hands out, Mr. Webb, and man the gig!" was shouted.

In a few minutes the prisoners began to stream up the deck from the hatchways, and to move down the gangway in single file, to the cutters, as they had in the morning.

"Oars up, here! Oars up!" shouted the guard in the cutter to the rowers, as the first prisoners reached the water's edge. The boat carrying the guards, their bayonets sparkling in the sun, and some officers too, was already off to receive the men on shore.

All the prisoners were arranged along both sides of the ship, chained to each other in two long lines.  The iron golem stood watch at the center.  The ship was already heavy enough with all the prisoners. 

Two red-cloaked captains stood watch at either side of the boat, while several guards kept the prisoners in line. Also enforcing the authority of the captains were two wand guards, who wielded dragon-shaped pistols that spat lightning. And all the while, Clank’s menacing shadow reminded everyone that no disobedience would be tolerated.

Aggro was on the opposite side of Kham and Scarbelly, rowing along with a pair of nervous-looking humans to either side of the hulking orc. Aggro whispered something to the prisoner beside him, who passed it on to another prisoner, who passed it another in turn.

“It’s happening.” Kham took the two rings out of his shoe and put them on.  “Get ready.” 

Scarbelly nodded and kept rowing.

The whispers made their way around the rowers.  Until it got to Krysos.

Krysos nodded.  He slowly turned around.  Kham caught his gaze.

Krysos smiled. 

“MUTINY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.  “It’s a mutiny!” He stopped rowing and stood up to point at Kham. “The val’s trying to make a run for it!”

Black clouds of smoke appeared by the wand guards and in front of the golem.  Clank lumbered over towards Kham, only to slide forward as magical grease slicked a path right off the side of the ship.

The prisoners on Aggro’s side dipped their oars hard in the water while the prisoners on Kham’s side let go of their oars and leaned to.  The net effect was that the boat rocked hard.

Clank’s bulk, normally an advantage in intimidating a prisoner, was a liability.  It smashed right through the deck rail and over the edge.

“The Bloody Vengeance!” shouted Scarbelly. Standing at the bow of the legendary ship of captain Drak Scarbelly was a slim, feminine form.  It was Ilmarė.

With the aid of his ring, Kham easily slipped free of the manacles.

All hell broke loose.  The prisoners shouted and hooted, some trying to free themselves from the chains, others cowering.  Lighting blasts and flintlocks fired across the deck.  A blast of flames engulfed the center of the deck, setting it on fire and incinerating some of the guards.

Shimmering forms became distinct as Beldin, Vlad, and Sebastian dropped their invisibility. 

A thunderous cannonade echoed across the ocean.  The Bloody Vengeance let loose a full barrage of cannon fire.

“They’re firing on us?” shouted Kham.  “Why are they firing on us?”

Scarbelly looked like a proud father.  “This be how orcs stage a rescue!”

There was a high-pitched whine near the deck rail.  Kham looked down.

“Ah crap,” said Kham.  The chain had snared on Clank and was shrieking through the many iron rings that bound the men to each other.  Including Scarbelly.

Kham sighed and looped one foot around the length of chain before it snapped taut. He took a deep breath.

Then one by one, Kham, Scarbelly, and all the prisoners on their side of the deck were yanked into the sea.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Part 10b – The Rescue*

Water rushed past him.  At first, it was impossible to make out anything but bubbles. Then Kham was able to slowly make out the forms of the other prisoners, all of them churning helpless in the water above and below him.

Kham felt his way down to Scarbelly.  Kham easily freed himself from the chain around his leg.

Scarbelly stared at him, unsure of what he was doing.

Kham pointed at his own hand, then pointed at Scarbelly.  Scarbelly lifted his hand.

Kham took the ring off and put it on the orc’s gnarled hand.  Instantly, he was free and floating upwards.

Kham let go of the chain.  He couldn’t help but look down. The men disappeared into the inky darkness like a discarded charm bracelet, doomed to drowning with Clank as their anchor.

Then he was at the surface.  The boat that the prisoners were rowing was going down.  Hands yanked him up out of the water.

Kham looked up, sputtering, from the bottom of the rowboat. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“You’re not,” said Ilmarė.  Orcs rowed to either side of her.

Kham stretched out and put his hands behind his head to stare up at the sun, a free man once more.  “It’s good to be back,” he said with a smile.


----------



## talien

*Belly of the Beast: Conclusion*

The Bloody Vengeance was a crudely built orc ship, roughly ninety feet long.  It was battle-scarred but seaworthy. The ship sailed hard away from Freeport.

Drak Scarbelly appeared in full captain’s regalia, once again the master of his own ship.  He smiled at Prolk, the old orc hag who had helped coordinate the orcs to rescue him.  “Ye did well.”

Prolk bowed her head slightly.  

Rask, the orc wizard with his floppy hat and staff, approached Scarbelly. “We haven’t found Aggro,” he said. 

Scarbelly chuckled.  “He’ll be along.”

Krysos Boz’s head bounced across the deck.  Then Aggro clambered up over the deck, dripping seawater.  “Sorry I be late,” he muttered.  “I had t’ settle a score.”

Beldin, Sebastian, and Vlad joined Kham and Ilmarė on the Bloody Vengeance’s deck.  The rest of the orcs were far too busy to watch the spectacle, as they set to work manning the guns.  They had to put a lot of distance between them and Freeport.

“And now,” said Scarbelly, “since ye fulfilled yer end of the bargain, I’ll fulfill mine.”  The orc captain hit himself in the stomach with his fist a few times. His stomach gurgled and then there he let loose a roaring burp that shivered the rafters.

“Nice,” muttered Ilmarė.

Scarbelly spat something onto the deck.  It was a palm-sized sextant.  Inscribed on its back was a tentacled skull with five stars over its head.

“That be me proof o’ me lineage to the line o’ Drac,” said Scarbelly.  “Take good care ‘o it.”

Kham picked it up.  “Thanks.” He took a deep breath of sea air.  It smelled…clean.  

“We’re glad to have you both back.” Vlad clapped Ilmarė and Kham on the back. 

“Both of us?” Kham looked askance at Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shot him a steely glare.  “Don’t ask,” she muttered.

Scarbellly stood at the bow of his ship, surveying the open ocean.  The possibilities seemed limitless. Sebastian came up beside him.

“Where to?” asked Scarbelly.

“Libertyville,” said Sebastian.  “We’ve got our own score to settle.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 35: To Walk on Arcanis in Carcosa - Introduction*

This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, “Tatters of the King” by Tim Wiseman, adapted for the Freeport setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 

Due to my own stupidity and complications with Invitations, Free eCards and Party Planning Ideas from Evite, the invitation about gaming got screwed up.  As a result, only two players were present.  

Fortunately, this is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, which means it’s much more about decision-making and much less about combat.  In fact, I had to heavily revise the adventure so combat would take place and then, when we didn’t have enough players, I played it very close to the original version.  Now that I think about it, there was actually only one combat in the whole session!

Anyway, this adventure wraps up two major plot points…by killing them.  It’s also my deus ex machina to dump our heroes into the next adventure.  Oh how I love portals!


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Prologue*

It was the middle of the night when Dril opened the front door to an unassuming terraced cottage.  It was empty.

Price shoved past him.  “I don’t know what da big deal is. So people got killed in The Tombs. Happens all da time.”

Dril examined the floor.  “We’ve been over this: Grahame Roby asserted without a doubt that the corpse was not Lucius Roby’s; it lacks a scar on the upper arm that Lucius acquired as a youth.”

“Right, so that means what one ov da two bodies was Thomas Clarke. Good chap, terrible thin' ter 'appen ter 'im. But what doesn’t mean we need ter be all searchin' Evans’ 'ome. I say we let da dead stay dead.”

The Altherian paused at one point in the floor.  “You hear that?”

Price cocked his head.  “What?”

“The floorboards.  They stopped squeaking. Shine your lantern over here.”

Price focused his bull’s-eye lantern at the spot by Dril’s foot. 

The floorboards were a darker color than the rest, spongy and moist.

Dril leaned down on one knee.  “I’m not convinced that Alexander Harriwell killed anybody; he was straight-jacketed in his cell.  And killing three grown men, two of them the Sea Lord’s Guard, is no simple task.” Dril wiped one finger along the board and sniffed it.  “This is blood.”

“Then that’s an awful lot ov blood,” said Price.  He put the lamp down on the floor to get a closer look. The beam splayed across the wall.

Dril walked over to the front door.  He bent down to pick up a piece of mail on the mat.

“Interesting,” said Dril.  “One of these letters is a tailor’s bill addressed to Michael Evans.  The other is addressed to…Montague Edwards!” 

When Price didn’t response, Dril added, “Don’t you see?  This connects Evans to Edwards.  Montague Edwards kidnapped Roby and made it look like a double murder to throw us off the track.  He’s…Price?”

Dril turned around.  “Price?”

Price had stopped talking.  He stood, transfixed, beaming the lantern along the wall. 

The lantern slowly revealed words painted in blood: “Seven days for his work, five for mine.” 

Dril ran out the door to warn his companions.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 1 – The Road and the Forest*

Two or three inches of snow lay on the ground.  The landscape they passed through was one of high mountains, rivers and streams, heathland, and thick wood.  

“I hope ye know where yer going,” said Captain Drak Scarbelly, ka-klumping along behind Kham and Ilmarė with his peg-leg.  

“Talathiel told Sebastian that Montague Edwards was the Laird of Libertyville,” said Ilmarė. “And Dril told us Michael Evans is actually Montague Edwards.  With Lucius missing, this is the most logical place to look first. If they were going to hide somewhere, Libertyville would be the place to do it.”

“You didn’t have to come along you know.”  Kham was back to his old self.  The lack of Ghoul Juice left him irritable.

“Aye, but we do intend t' stop this Kin' in Yellow business ye keep natterin' on about. If it means puttin' an end t' this threat t' Freeport, then I’ll see it through.”

“Very noble,” said Kham.  “What about your boat?”

“The Bloody Vengeance?” Rask snorted.  “Aggro has been cap'nin' it all this time, he can han'le it fer another day.”

After an hour and a half, they arrived at Libertyville; a village of just two dozen or so stone houses.  From there, a snow-covered muddy track headed towards the Loch, through a thick forest of old pines mixed in with ferns, heather and outcrops of granite.  

“Look at the trees,” said Prolk.

Rather than all the trees growing straight, many of them strained towards the Loch—on some, the root system was partially exposed where the whole trunk has tilted considerably.  

As they moved through the forest, the groan and crack of roots breaking under the strain is a constant companion.

“There’s no wildlife,” said Ilmarė. “Not even birdsong.”

Just half a mile down the road, looping, the rutted track led away to the north then the east.  There was no indication that it had been taken recently, but after following it for a full mile they came to a monolith standing in a small clearing.

Kham frowned.  “This looks familiar.”

Ilmarė squinted.  “It reads: Expectant we raise our muzzles to smell the air for hatred, we strain our ears for the sound of love.”

They kept moving. Ilmarė froze.

“What?” asked Kham.

“Shh!  Do you hear that?”

They strained to listen.  There was a distant crashing noise.  Something was coming closer and closer through the thick forest. 

“It’s coming from the south,” said Ilmarė. “But it’s not at ground level.  Whatever it is, it’s high up—splintering the treetops as it comes.”

“Get down!” shouted Kham.  

A huge sac, rippling and throbbing and flecked with light, moved squid-like, pulling itself through the air by long, groping tentacles that sawed on the wind and pulled on the branches with equal purchase.  It didn’t go far. 

Just two hundred yards further down the road, a track led a short distance off into the forest.  The thing clung to a second monolith like a child’s forgotten balloon. 

“That monolith’s got an inscription too.” Ilmarė fingered an amulet at her throat. “We, the mute, lame, the stupid, the dull, the weak.”  She turned to Kham.  “It must be talking about you.”


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 2 – The Road and the Forest*

The black mirror of the loch stretched out—a long, thin cut between the mountain ridges that contained it.  Edwards’ house stood on the loch’s eastern end.  

“For a laird, his house is not as impressive as I imagined,” said Ilmarė. It was a largish two-story stone hunting lodge, rather ugly.  Two wagons stood in front of it, almost completely hidden by snow.  No footprints or horse tracks were visible.

A thin, white mist rolled up from the water and around and past the house.  There was no noise, no lights no movement.  

As soon as they moved, the mist thickened around them.  Visibility quickly lessened, but as it did they caught a glimpse of something new.  There was a new structure—a large, white arch that looked ceremonial.  It was completely incongruous in surroundings.

“It’s happening again,” sighed Kham. 

They became aware of other buildings around them.  The mist was gone.  Even behind them there were streets.  They stood in the middle of a city, a city that did not belong there. In front of them, the large ornate arch was topped by elaborate statuary depicting a pair of lions rearing and fighting.  

“That wasn’t thar a moment ago,” said Scarbelly.

“The whole city wasn’t there before,” said Ilmarė.

The house was no longer visible.  Neither was the loch.  It was clear that the sky no longer belonged to Arcanis.  Though it appeared to be night, with stars everywhere, there were also two pale suns low in the sky that bathed the city in a pearl light.  

 “We’re back in Carcosa,” said Kham.  He seemed resigned to his fate. “Only this time it’s not frozen over. They must have finished another summoning ritual.”

The city was laid out around half the shoreline of a calm lake—the other half was lightly forested with firs and birch—elegant buildings rose away up the steep slopes from the water arranged about plazas, avenues, pools, canals, and formal parks and gardens.  There was architecture of all kinds present, but most of the city had a formal, Coryani-feel with white marble bell towers, ornate relief work, small bridges, columns, red roof tiles, and marble domes.  

“The gate,” said Scarbelly.  “It…changed.”

The city gate had indeed changed when they looked away from it for a split second. Lower and gilded, it was now topped instead by a single horse-headed bird fashioned from onyx.  In the blink of it eye, it became a tall, thin building, with a simple wooden door at its base.  A great flame burned in a brazier on its flat roof.

“It’s some kind of lighthouse,” said Prolk.

There was a dim light showing through the door that stood ajar, but there was no one inside.  

“Thar be masks inside,” said Rask. “Just enough fer each o’ us.”

Kham caught Ilmarė’s gaze.  She was staring at the sky. “The two suns are weird, I know.”

The elorii shook her head.  She just pointed.

A pair of outlines flew across one then the other sun, before losing themselves in the inky sky.  The stars seemed to wink.  

“Byakhee,” she said. “The sky is crop-thick with the things.”

Kham ducked into the lighthouse and came back wearing a mask.  It was a harlequin, with a black mask over interlocking green, yellow, and red diamonds together with a shepherdess with pale skin and rosy cheeks and lips. 

“Let’s not give the Brotherhood an excuse to notice us.” He handed the remaining masks out.

Ilmarė donned a plain ivory mask with inlaid jet that made moving shadows.  It was both beautiful and disturbing.

“I’m nay goin’ t’ put a mask on,” said Scarbelly.

Kham paused.  “I’m still waiting for you to take yours off. Let’s go.” He walked through the archway into Carcosa.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 3 – The Road and the Forest*

They emerged onto a broad walkway lined by porticoes that were in turn backed by large buildings.  The buildings had no visible doors and their windows were set high up in the smooth walls.  

The majority of the city boasted buildings of a uniformly fine quality, well designed and constructed, and in perfect repair.  The streets were clean, there were well-tended trees and open spaces, and there was no kind of objectionable noise or bustle.  

“It’s eerily calm,” said Ilmarė. Occasional snatches of music or singing could be heard, although the source was impossible to identify.  

Several residents, all masked, suddenly appeared at adjoining windows in one building and leaned far out.  One was pointing behind them, while the others strained to see what the masked man was indicating. There was a shout of recognition, a shrill scream, and some slightly hysterical laughter.

Ilmarė squinted.  “It’s the Phantom of Truth, all dressed in white.”

“Just like in the play,” said Kham.  “We’re going to have to find the palace before that party happens.”

“What play?” asked Prolk.

“It’s complicated,” said Kham.  “Suffice it to say that Carcosa is as much a place as it is a mindset.  When you read about it, you become part of it.”

Ilmarė frowned at Kham. “And it becomes a part of you.”

They came to a low wall, broken by steps leading down. They led to a slim bridge spanning a canal.  The waters were quite a distance below, but the canal itself was only about twenty feet wide.  The bridge was twenty feet long, less than a foot wide, and fashioned of marble.  There was no handrail. 

Across the bridge, the Phantom of Truth moved along the far bank and into a doorway close by.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do in a situation like this.” Kham took a swig of a potion.  He jogged a few steps back.

“What’s that?” asked Scarbelly.

“Follow the white stranger.  He’ll lead us to the palace.”  Kham sprinted and took a flying leap, easily clearing the twenty-foot span.

Ilmarė put her hands on her hips. “And what about the rest of us?”

“You can make it.”

The elorii sighed.  Then, holding her arms up high, she launched herself into a series of cartwheels across the narrow bridge.  She landed on the other side with arms spread wide.

Kham clapped. 

“What about us?” snarled Scarbelly.

“What, you can’t do that?” asked Kham innocently.

Scarbelly muttered a curse.  Then he tentatively edged his way onto the bridge.

“I don’t think he can make it with his peg leg,” said Ilmarė.  “Perhaps we should…”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll make it.”

There was a yelp followed by a splash as Scarbelly fell into the canal, followed by Prolk and Rask.

“Or not.”


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 4 – The Road and the Forest*

They came onto a large stage of an immaculate, Coryani-style amphitheater.  A semicircle of stone seats rose up into the sky; trapdoors and scene shifting equipment indicated that the theater was still in use.

“Movement,” said Ilmarė.  “I think I saw a man with a…”

There was the crack of a pistol shot.  Ilmarė spun from the blast.

“Damn humans!” shouted the elorii.  

Kham took out both his pistols.  “You okay?”

Ilmarė clutched her shoulder, blood streaming between her fingertips.  “He only grazed me.”

“Damn Kolter and his crappy pistols!” Kham shook his head. “Every fool with a grudge has one.” He shouted at the pillar. “Come out, you’re outnumbered!”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  

“What?” Kham shrugged.  “It’s true, we outnumber him.”

A man with neatly cut brown hair, a fat face, and a nervous smile stepped out from the pillar. He was dressed in the typical cult robes of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. He was tall, but moved with a hunch as though trying to remain unseen. The man placed the pistol in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were the creatures in the sky.  You’re wearing masks…” He trailed off.

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed.  “Do we LOOK like big alien bugs?”

Spence coughed.  “My name’s Spence.  Quentin Spence.” He was seemed eager, manic to make their acquaintance. “I’ve been across at the Palace, even taken part in the ceremonies except the one currently happening.  We’ve summoned four spawn.  The next will summon the King in Yellow.”

“That’s what those big flying sacs of crap are?” Kham kept his pistols out.  He scanned the sky.  “Great.”

Ilmarė whispered an incantation and her wound healed over.

“I lost my nerve though,” said Spence. “I’m looking for Roby.  I hope he’ll know what to do.  I don’t think Roby knows anything of Edwards’ plans yet.  I think he might be in the Sculpture Museum.  Do you know?”

The elorii leaned near Kham.  “There’s a corpse laying in a pool of blood behind the pillar.”

Kham nodded.  “Well, Spence, I think it’s probably best if we move on.” Kham put his own pistols away in the folds of his overcoat.

“Oh?” said Spence, suddenly confused by Kham’s change in demeanor.

“Yeah.”  Kham put one arm around Spence. “So why don’t you lead us out of here and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Spence slowly nodded.  “Be careful out there, those things are dangerous…” he patted his pocket for the comfort of the Freeport pistol.  Then his eyes widened.

“My pistol!  It’s gone!”

”Really?” asked Ilmarė.  “You must have misplaced it.”

Spence’s jovial features twisted in insane rage. “You!  You took it!  You give it back, you give it back right now!”

Kham sighed.  He drew one of his own Altherian pistols. “You’re not allowed to play with toys.”  

With a roar, Spence launched himself at Kham.  He ducked past Kham’s outstretched arm and grappled him.

They struggled.  A gunshot echoed across the arena. 

Spence’s gaze became unfocused.  He fell to the ground, his fingers still clutching at Kham’s overcoat.

“You didn’t want that piece of junk anyway.” Kham stepped over the man’s corpse. “Freeport gnomes made it.”


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 5 – The Northern Quarter*

They continued to climb up the amphitheater. At the top was an amazing view.  

The city was spread out beneath them, and over the roofs the lake itself was a great stain of shadow, except on its far, far shore.  There reflected the lights of the Palace.

Although Carcosa contained many impressive structures, its Palace dominated the city.  It was extensive, boasting three huge, loosely defined wings, each with towers, parapets and spires supported at points with buttresses and joined to one another by soaring walkways.  The mostly separate wings were unified by jointly fronting three sides of a vast square.  The square itself became a balcony that depended out above the still waters of the lake that bordered its fourth side.  The whole building was a mixture of styles, but somehow a triumph of form.  

The streets around them were small and twisted, rising and falling unexpectedly.  It seemed a more modest part of town, but the buildings still offered their own grandiosities—aerial walkways in iron, wooden carvings of fabulous beasts or nature, chimney pots that were cast simulacra of its owner’s trade: shoes and boots, muskets, silver fish.   

Once, they followed a corridor that turned in and in, growing narrower and narrower, progressing with the formulaic perfection of a conch shell that somehow promised a fantastic conclusion before, frustratingly, became too tight to pursue.

As they turned a corner, they came upon a small group of masked figures.  As the rest move off, the last turned to greet them.

“And I am Noss,” he said, swaying drunkenly.  The masked man doffed a red and green bird mask. 

“Sorry, who?” asked Kham.

“Noss.  I’m Noss.  Didn’t you ask just now?”

“No,” said Ilmarė.  “We didn’t.”

“Ah.  Well, you look like you’re not from here.  Were you born here?”

“No,” said Kham.  “But you could say we’re regular visitors.”

Noss nodded.  “I’m sure it looks quite different from last time. There is a great festival happening that has given rise to much excitement. A Stranger has come to the city who promises further upheaval—we wear masks in the Stranger’s honor, hoping that all will be to the good.”

“Us too,” said Kham.

“If you need help, I can act as your guide.”

“Actually, we were wondering if you’ve seen some…” Ilmarė hesitated, “ugly-masked people.”

Noss thought for a moment.  “I think I can help.  Follow me.”

He led them through a tiny, roofed alleyway and into a hidden courtyard surrounded by tall houses.  A round bench had been built around an asphodel tree there.  “Sit here and wait.  Everyone comes by sooner or later.”

Then he left them.

An indeterminable amount of time passed, as it was impossible to keep track in Carcosa.  Then they heard Scarbelly’s voice. 

“Why be everyone keep complimentin’ us on our masks?”


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 6 – The Sculpture Museum*

Reunited with the three orcs, they eventually discovered a small, white building that a discreet sign announced as the Sculpture Museum.  All around were manicured gardens dotted with statuary of animals, men, and women—a medusa with its head of snakes screaming, a strange creature clutching a human child to its breast, a perfect replica of a cypress tree next to the real thing—byakhees presented angular wet-black arrangements, folded in upon themselves like bat wings.  The last were by the entrance.

As they passed, the creatures shifted, their eyes swiveling jerkily. One clapped its great jaws together.  

Scarbelly nearly smashed its head in with an axe. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s a little late for that,” said Ilmarė.

The building, like most in the city, changed constantly. Rooms and balconies contracted and expanded or disappeared completely when not directly observed; carpeting became oak became tile became marble.

Steps led straight down from the entrance to vast exhibition floors, much larger than the building above them.  All the rooms were empty of other visitors.  There were hundreds of objects present from all eras.  

Further along was a wide corridor lined both sides with byakhee whistles from all over Arcanis.  A dozen white robes hung in the next chamber, artfully arranged on wire mannequins so that the Yellow Sign was not entirely visible.  

Over in a corner was a full-sized rendition of a human figure: the clay was still wet.

Kham took his pistol out.  

“Not a fan of sculpture?” asked Scarbelly.

Kham cocked the pistol and pointed it at the forehead of the clay figure.  

“Look closer,“ said Ilmarė.

It was a perfect sculpture of Kham.  He looked drawn out and haggard, his face in his hands.  But it was unmistakably Kham, down to his pupiless eyes, one of which could be seen between the fingers.

Slowly, Kham eased his finger off the trigger. “Actually, I kind of like it.”

“Kham,” said Ilmarė, “the last time you ‘kind of liked’ something it was Fleshripper.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.” Kham looked around.  “All the artwork in the gallery makes a curious kind of sense.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Lucius Roby entered from a side hallway. He wore black trousers and a shirt with no tie and no collar.  He looked tired, but also was very composed: a slight smile was on his lips.  “Hello again,” he said softly.  “Good to see you.”

“So you are alive,” said Kham.  “Are you the reason Carcosa is here?”

Lucius nodded.  “Yes. I have longed to be with Carcosa ever since I set eyes upon it, when I was possessed by a k’n-yan named Gll'-Hthaa-Ynn.  When he finally left my body, I remembered fragments of what he knew.  But Carcosa never let me forget.  It was all I could wish for: it’s not just bricks and tar and steel but a living thing, and it moves with my call and my mood, echoing and building that mood to a peak of ecstasy.  Leaving Carcosa was like dying for me.  It’s only here that I feel truly alive.”

“Lucius,” said Ilmarė, “did you really kill your father and sister?”

Lucius’ face flickered with emotions of sorrow and pain.  He regained his composure quickly.  “When Gll'-Hthaa-Ynn became one with me, I was in a dreadful condition.  My father and brother were terrible to me.  So one night, I called to Aldebran and…something answered.”

“Byakhee,” said Kham.

Lucius nodded.  “It killed my father.”  He put the back of one hand to his mouth, tears welling in his eyes.  “It killed Georgina too. You know the rest.”

“What’s this about Edwards trying to summon the King in Yellow?” asked Ilmarė

“Hmm, the King in Yellow, you say?” Lucius regained his composure. “Ah yes.  Carbo said that too: Edwards thought he could call the King in Yellow to Arcanis.  If Edwards was to bring Hastur here, to Carcosa, he would not arrive as the King in Yellow—he would be in a form that has no meaning to Onara, no rationality.  We’re still on Arcanis, you know.  He would destroy everyone in Carcosa.  Edwards too.”

“Hastur? You mean Umor?”

“He is known by many names.” Roby tapped one lip with a forefinger. “Although Carcosa owes a part of its character to Hastur, he is like the darkness that throws the light into perfect relief—natural.  Do you like Carcosa?  I find it absolutely fantastic.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” With great difficulty, Kham tore his eyes off of his clay doppelganger. 

“I don’t mean t’ break up this happy reunion,” said Scarbelly.  “But thar be a cultist to stop.”

Lucius turned to face the orc, completely unphased by his appearance. “Rest assured, the city is safe.  Although the Stranger is here, he will never reach the Palace to herald the arrival of the Tatter King.”

“Can you lead us to Edwards?”

Lucius’ mind seemed to wander.  “Has he misled me? Why would he do this?”  He made a decision and for a moment Lucius’ eyes focused on them.  “I’ll speak to Edwards.  He’ll be at the Palace.”

Lucius made to leave.  Kham stood where he was.

“Kham,” said Lucius.  “We must go.  I share your love of the beauty that is Carcosa.  But there won’t be any city left if Edwards does what I fear.  Please follow me.”

Pale and melancholy, Kham grudgingly followed Lucius out.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 7 – Lake Hali*

The journey to the lakeshore ran downhill through residential streets.  Lake Hali was as still as stone.  On its far shore was the bright Palace beneath the suns, looking a world away.

A path followed the water’s edge and promised to lead towards the Palace, but it soon cut back into the city.  Fortunately, there were dozens of boats tied at the quay.  

The boards were uniformly built from a polished hardwood, narrow in the beam with high bows and sterns, and with a single tall mast carrying a furled sail of white or pale yellow canvas.  Each had further provision for two pairs of oars that were shipped on board. 

They clambered in and launched two of the boats.  

“The lake seems much bigger now that we’re out on it,” said Ilmarė.

“That’s because it was all ice last time,” said Kham.  “This is where we discovered Hastur the first time.  All along I thought it was the King in Yellow.  But now I know what we really saw.  We saw Hastur.”

“Thar be something beneath the surface,” said Prolk. 

About a hundred yards away, something big slipped gently beneath the water’s surface.  

Long tentacles broke the surface, frothing the water in front of a smooth domed mass.  It was heading towards them.

Forty yards

Thirty yards.

Twenty yards.

“Hold on!” shouted Kham.

The thing came straight on, submerging, and its long shape passed directly under the hull.  The boat was caught and rocked violently from side to side, only just staying up right.

The thing rose up about thirty yards beyond the boat; the tentacles flicked down and the slick body came into full view for a moment before it dove vertically with hardly a splash.  

They continued on.  Lucius was calm, watching the sky.

There were hundreds, even thousands, of the dreadful byakhee just visible, black on black, falling down from the region of Carcosa’s twin suns onto the Palace, onto the terrace.  They swarmed so thickly together that it was like a river in the sky.

Ilmarė covered her ears.  “They make a horrible din.”

As the boat neared landing, Lucius, who had been deep in thought, turned to stare up at the byakhee.  

“I see what’s happening: Edwards is using Carcosa to speak to Hastur.  He thinks it’s just like the play—the Stranger is in the Palace and so he can call the King in Yellow.  He’s wrong—he’ll bring Hastur himself! And Hastur won’t bargain with him.  He won’t even notice him.”

“Umor’s wrath will be terrible indeed.” Ilmarė shook her head. “After all he has done to your race, you still seek his favor.”

They docked the boats. Steps led up to one of the wings of the Palace.

“What will Hastur do with Carcosa?” asked Lucius.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 8 – Yolanda*

They entered the Palace, passing marble-floored corridors hung with portraits, through receiving rooms and great banquet halls, across small gardens and high, cold chapels.  The place seemed endless.  

“We must head for the terrace, where the summoning is being performed,” murmured Lucius.

There was evidence that a party had taken place very recently.  Food and drink abounded, as did flaming candles.  There were discarded masks and even some fine clothes.  

Scarbelly pointed.  “Coombs! Avast, ye scab'r'us swabs! I just saw Coombs!”

“Michael Coombs?” asked Lucius.  “Here?”

“Aye.” Scarbelly began clomping his way down the hallway. “Yer nay goin' t' get away this time, ye scurvy dog!  I’ll gut ye like a catfish!”  

They were jogging down the hall when Kham collided with a young woman.  She fell with a cry.  

The woman wore a lacquered mask with the face of a leering imp, the red of which matched the silk of her elegant gown.  At her wrists and throat were clasped what must have been a fortune in rubies: they shined like bloody wounds.  As she got up, rather unsteadily, the mask dislodged. She was very beautiful.

“Easy,” said Kham, helping her up.  “Are you alright?”

The woman regained her composure and looked around.  “My name is Yolanda.  I don’t recognize you.  Who are you?”

“I’m Kham val’Abebi, these are my friends.  We’re looking for Edwards.  Have you seen him?”

“The Stranger is come to Yhtill,” whispered the woman. “There was a party.  All unmasked at the appointed hour but the Stranger, and when the Queen ordered him to follow suit he did not because he wore his own face…the Pallid Mask.”

“We’re near the end of the play,” said Ilmarė, urgency in her voice.  

“Now a curse is on Yhtill, which will surely become Carcosa,” said Yolanda.

Lucius was agitated by Yolanda’s words.  “The time may be close.  We must hurry!” He paused, turning to Ilmarė. “You wish to prevent Hastur coming don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Ilmarė.  “Umor’s return is the end for all of us.”

Lucius looked at Kham.  “Do you remember the verses of Cassilda’s Song I told you in the cell?  The stars and the suns?”

Kham nodded. 

“You may still escape Carcosa.  Don’t forget those words.  Look at what men can do.  Look at what Edwards is doing now.  You must not trust Carbo to do so: remember those words if it is you yourself that must lead the King astray.”

“I can lead you to the terrace,” said Yolanda.  Then Coombs plunged a knife in her back.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 9 – Coombs*

Coombs was a tall, thin, sharp-featured man with longish, greasy black hair.  He wore a worn black overcoat.

After stabbing Yolanda he ran off, disappearing into the ever-shifting maze of rooms and corridors.  Kham left the others behind.  There was killing to be done that was best performed alone.

They engaged in a game of cat and mouse.  Coombs stalked Kham, and in turn Kham stalked Coombs through the hundreds of rooms and corridors.

“You’re dead, Coombs!” Kham shouted, frustrated.  “When I find you, you’re dead!”

“Not if I find yew first,” came Coombs’ voice.  “Like I found yaaahr farfer.” A door slammed.

Kham let out a guttural scream of rage.  “Why?  He didn’t do anything to you!”

There was the sound of running feet.  Kham turn another corner to find an empty hallway.

“He crossed da Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

Kham opened another door. A body was laid out on a polished wooden table: it was a handsome young man whose throat had been cut.  The blood was still running.

“You’re getting messy, Coombs.”

“They’re not even people.” Disdain dripped in Coombs’ voice. “None ov i' matters now anyway. We don’t need 'em. Edwards let me off my leash, so I can kill whomever I want.”

“And you always follow orders?”

Coombs laughed. “That’s right, I’m a good soldier. Edwards wan'ed yaaahr farfer killed an' I did it. And now 'e wants yew killed, so I’m gon'a do what an' all. I do what I’m told. But yew…yew never listen.”

Kham stopped talking.  He swallowed a potion and faded from sight. Coombs was right; he wasn’t listening.  He was distracting Kham, keeping him off guard.  Kham had to pay attention.

There was the sound of a blade scratching along metal.  Kham padded over to the source.

Coombs was walking along a corridor, casually running his knife along an incongruous metal banister.  

He drew his two pistols. Kham was so close to Coombs he could almost touch him.

Kham took careful aim at Coombs’ head.  He drew the hammers back on both pistols…

Coombs whirled at the sound of the pistol’s cocking and slashed upwards. The blade was slowed by Kham’s mental force field, but Coombs pushed past it, plunging it into his abdomen. A terrible cold cracked its way across his torso; blood froze where it came into contact with Coombs’ blade.

Simultaneously, Kham’s pistols unleashed his rage at point-blank range into the face of his father’s murderer. 

The smoking remains of Coombs’ headless body collapsed to the ground. 

Kham fumbled for a potion vial in the folds of his coat.  The shivering was so bad that it threatened to incapacitate him.  

“Rest in peace, dad.”  Then he swigged a potion.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 10 – Stopping the Play*

The next room was a ballroom, one wall of which was made of a succession of tall glass doors, all giving onto a long balcony.  

Ilmarė tentatively advanced into the room.  She could see the terrace where the summoning was taking place below her.  Steps curled down from the balcony onto the terrace from both left and right.  Beyond was the dark water of Lake Hali.

But all of it was eclipsed by the byakhee.  There were hundreds and hundreds of the beasts outside, thick on the balustrades, roofs, and walls. Streams of the creatures were still flying down from the sky to join those already present, thickening the ranks each minute.  The usually raucous monsters were silent, rapt, facing inwards.  They were all focused on a small group of ten men in the center of it all.

“Edwards!” hissed Lucius, “They’re casting a spell to free Hastur.”

They were nearing the end of the performance.  The cultist playing Cassilda was striking her son Aldones with a sword, but it was no faux swordplay.  Blood was everywhere: soaking Aldones’ robes, pooling underfoot, and flying from the sword tip—and yet still Aldones delivered his lines. 

In the role of Aldones, Edwards’ body knitted together even as he was slashed apart. 

At Ilmarė’s throat, the Sign of Belisarda pulsed.  She held it up high overhead and shouted.

“Then spoke Belisarda: We praise her name, stilling the song of the birds and quieting the call of the beasts, even stopping the breath of the air!”

As the Sign was presented the actors stumbled and then halted in confusion.  The play stopped.

Edwards turned and stared up, bloody and disbelieving.  

“Then spoke Belisarda: We praise her name, roaring!”

There was a sucking sound as a vortex of wind centered on Edwards.  A massive blast of accumulated magical energy hit him.  Blood immediately started to well and flow from his mouth, his eyes, his ears.  He collapsed, coughing, unable to cry out.  In seconds, he was dead.

Kham skidded into the room just as Edwards fell.

The cultists turned, raising their blades.  There were byakhee everywhere, too.  Many of the creatures were airborne, but others had landed to stare through the windows of the ballroom as though it was a cage. 

Lucius turned to Kham.  “I think I can help.  May I borrow your weapon?” 

One of the byakhee shattered a huge glass pane.  It crept shyly in.

“Only I can stop the summoning!” shouted Edwards. “You have to trust me!  The byakhee can’t harm me!”

Kham reached into his coat and threw Lucius the Freeport pistol he took from Spence. 

“No!” shouted Ilmarė.  “He’s going to—“

There was the crack of pistol fire.  Everyone, even the byakhee, froze.

Lucius fell to the ground, seeping blood. 

Kham skidded over to him.  “Lucius, what the hell were you thinking?”

“It is done,” said Lucius, a strange smile on his face.  Blood spattered his chest. “It is by my hand that Carcosa is here, and by my death that it will be released.  Let me die.”

Carcosa rippled around them.  

Scarbelly took a few warning swipes at the byakhee.  “We’d better go!” 

Scores of the things were gathered together, slowly creeping forward.  

Kham patted Lucius’ hand.  They couldn’t bring him with them. 

But Lucius looked past him and out of the window, a horrified expression on his face. A shadow fell across him.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 11 – Hastur’s Arrival*

The next room was a ballroom, one wall of which was made of a succession of tall glass doors, all giving onto a long balcony.  

A thousand screaming byakhee lifted into the air as one, a thick black plague.  Everything slowed down and there was a feeling of pressure, of resistance, as though one was underwater.  Something was forming out beyond the balcony, rising from the lake.  

It loomed up over the Palace.  Titanic, it blotted out the stars.

Lucius was right.  Edwards’ plans were ill laid indeed.  

Something undulated, rippled horribly just beneath a patch of what passed for the thing’s flesh.  It moved in a rhythm, pulsing in concert with the blood in Kham’s temples.  He concentrated on where it was squirming and knew that if he tore his eyes off it for a moment, he would have to stare into its bottomless pits.  And he would be lost forever.

Then he felt a release.  He became aware of other things.  Screaming cultists fell slowly up past the window.  

Hastur had taken notice of the cultists who had summoned him.  Greeting them, he took them up and fed them to his eyes.

There was a wash of weariness and confusion. The byakhee were a black swarm.  

“Run to the garden!” shouted Lucius to Yolanda. Then he was overcome as scores of byakhee fell upon him, rending him limb from limb.

Everything moved in slow motion; screaming, yelling, shouting, pointing, running. Yolanda, panic-stricken, hurried for one of the many doors of the room.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Part 12 – Leaving Carcosa*

They dashed from room to room, hall to corridor.  Byakhee stalked them at every turn. 

Kham swigged potion after potion.  He tossed one to Ilmarė.

“Drink it!” When she shook her head, he shouted.  “Trust me!”

They found the garden to be a surprisingly large, formally laid out affair comprised of lawns, gravel paths, clipped hedges, fountains, and pools.  High red brick walls grown over with ivy surrounded the whole.  A small hedge maze was in the middle of the space and had at its center a stone arch.  

“Through there!” shouted Yolanda.  

The orcs trailed behind. 

“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Kham.

“I will not be harmed!” said Yolanda. “Go!”

Two large byakhee flapped down to land on either side of the entrance to the arch.  With a mighty heave, Kham launched himself through the air; assisted by magic, he catapulted past the things and into the gate beyond.

Ilmarė attempted to duplicate his feat.  But one of the byakhee slapped her out of the air with one claw.  She hit the ground hard.

Snapping jaws shrieked towards her face but were smashed away by an axe.

“Keep going!” shouted Scarbelly.  “We’ll hold them off!”

Ilmarė had scraped her knees and hands on the ground.  Despite the danger, she noticed that the milk white glass beads pressed into the turf prescribed the pattern of the Yellow Sign.  

She broke into a sprint.  Byakhee swarmed around the three orcs even as she stepped through the archway.


----------



## talien

*To Walk in Carcosa: Conclusion*

Stepping through the portal, Ilmarė noticed that the pebbles pressed into the packed earth glowed in the form of the Yellow Sign.  Carcosa was nowhere to be seen.

Kham stood, both pistols out.  

“Kham, what…” she trailed off.

They stood before a colossal statue of a snake-like being, some fifteen feet high.  Against the wall stood an altar, and the walls were carved with relieves of ssanu building and consecrating the temple.  The statue, altar, and relieves were all chipped, but showed signs of having been recently cleaned.  

Over a dozen ssanu surrounded them, spears out.  They were outnumbered.

“Snakes,” said Kham. “Why did it have to be snakes?”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 36: Soul of the Serpent - Introduction*

This is a Freeport adventure, “Soul of the Serpent” by Graeme Davis, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
·	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Jeremy’s been playing D&D with me so long that he can second guess plot points with ease.  He confidently stated, “the snake people must be good guys, because that’s the only way you can get the other PCs back into the adventure.”  Of course, he was right.

There were still some plot points even he didn’t foresee, though.  I was pleased that there were enough surprises to keep him (and the other PCs) on their toes.  This adventure moves quickly and doesn’t give the heroes a lot to do; mostly they fight ssanu and watch the madness unfold.  

This is also a farewell to Freeport, of sorts.  The PCs won’t be returning for some time. Somehow, I don’t think anyone minds.


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Prologue*

They were surrounded. 

Kham kept a tight grip on both of his pistols.  The ssanu were everywhere, but they were stoically silent, keeping spears at the ready.  Nobody made a move.

“Don’t look at their eyes,” whispered Kham to Ilmarė.

“I know how to deal with the serpents,” replied the elorii.  “But something isn’t right.”

“Squeak!”

Kham blinked.  “Wait a minute.  That’s…” He looked around for the source of the squeaking noise.

“Squeak!”

A tiny ssanu half-slithered and half-hopped up to Kham’s foot.  

“Emric?” asked Kham. “What are you doing here?”

“Squeak,” said Emric.

“We’re not sssure, but we think he found a Ssethregoran portal,” came a sibilant voice. The ssanu visibly relaxed.  “Be at peace, brothers. This is a guardian of the Chosen One.”

“Yeah,” Kham holstered his pistols and lifted the amulet of Yig.  “See?  I’m part of the club.”

A ssanu slithered forward, dressed in blue robes.  “Hello Kham.  It’sss good to sssee you again.”

“Good to see you too…uh…”:

If the ssanu had been capable of smirking he would have.  “K’Stallo.  I know, to your kind we all look alike.”

Kham cleared his throat but didn’t add anything to K’Stallo’s observation.

“You ssstartled usss.  As you can sssee, we’ve been renovating the ancient temple of Yig.  Through the glory of the Mother Goddessss, ssshe kept it intact after Beldin made hisss great sssacrifice.”

Ilmarė took another look around. “I thought this placed looked familiar.” 

K’Stallo nodded.  “Apparently, the Valossssan ancessstorsss usssed thisss room asss a portal to Carcosssa.”  He frowned down at the yellow sign inscribed in the floor.  It was slowly fading away.  “Had I know sssuch a thing exisssted, I would have dessstroyed it.  We mussst cleanssse thisss room.”  

“So you’re really anti-Hast—errr, Unspeakable One?”

K’Stallo nodded.  “Pleassse, join me in our reception room.”  The ssanu formed an honor guard of sorts behind them as they began to climb down a series of spiraling steps.  “You sssee, there are two sssects of Yig worssship, just asss you have many variationsss in worsssship of your own godsss.”

Ilmarė pushed back some of her purple and silver hair.  “Yeah, Larissa’s got more than one cult I’m acquainted with.”

K’Stallo bobbed his head.  “I had heard you were captured.  I am pleasssed to sssee you essscaped unsssullied.”

Ilmarė muttered something but it was inaudible.

“I teach the way of Hitthkai.  It isss a peaceful path, and emphasssizesss learning and wisssdom through Yig.  But there isss another ssanu teaching…a different path.”

“A different path?” Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.  “How different?”

“The Sskethvai,” said K’Stallo.  “A new priessst, Ffashethh, hasss begun preaching the way of Sskethvai.  He believesss it is the ssanu’s manifessst dessstiny to wage war on all the lesssser racesss.”  

“Join the genocidal club,” said Kham.  “The val protect humans against all the other races.  And I’m pretty sure the elorii plan to kill everyone, eventually.”

“It’s true,” said Ilmarė.  “We do.”

K’Stallo hissed softly.  It might have been a laugh.  

They had arrived in a room with many pillows on the floor. The walls were hung with faded and poorly repaired tapestries.  A large rug, in similar condition, lay on the floor, upon which stood a marble pedestal holding a beautifully-carved snake made of jade. 

Kham flopped onto one of the pillows.  “Got any wine?”

“I believe your arrival isss a sssign.  I fear that Ffasheth has ssset into motion a terrible plan.  I believe he will sssacrifice humansss and ignite a war acrossss Onara.  He will ssseek to connect with Ssethregore and begin a full-fledged war from Freeport’sss sssewers.  He mussst be ssstopped.”

“And you want us to stop him?” asked Ilmarė.  She hadn’t relaxed.

“No, no, wait.”  Kham put two fingers to his forehead.  “My psychic powers tell me you want us to take care of this little problem because it would look bad for a priest such as yourself to get involved.  You don’t want any more ssanu on ssanu violence; but if outsiders handle things, it will be much easier to overlook.”

K’Stallo’s black orbs widened.  “Your powersss are impressssive.”

“No,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s just a wiseass.”

“I mussst asssk one favor of you, Kham.”  K’Stallo sounded apologetic. “I need the amulet back.” He pointed one long, clawed finger at Kham’s chest.  “It isss unssseemly for a human to wear sssuch holy regalia.”

“Fine.” Kham took it off his neck and tossed it to K’Stallo.  “It was just a matter of time before Finn took that from me too.”

“Worry not.” K’Stallo handed him a holy symbol in the shape of Yig.  “Show thisss to alliesss of the Hitthkai and they will know you are our friend.”

Kham sighed.  “Just what I need, another trinket.”  But when K’Stallo turned away, he carefully placed it in a pocket.


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Part 1a – The Holding Area*

Beldin, Vlad, Sebastian and Kham crept through the sewers.  

“You sure this is the spot?” asked Vlad.

Kham shrugged.  “It’s where K’Stallo said Ffashethh was holding the sacrifices.”

“It is.”  Beldin traced his stubby fingers along one wall.  “There’s a door here.”

“Too bad the elf didn’t come with us,” said Kham.  “I can always count on her in a pinch.” He let the jab hang in the air.

“I get the impression Ilmarė would rather research this Sskethvai sect in a ssanu library than do their dirty work,” said Sbastian.

Beldin pushed on the wall and it slid open. “We already told you: we didn’t see the portal when the storm whipped up.  You got pulled into Carcosa and we didn’t.  The snowstorm was so bad that we had to go back to the Bloody Vengeance.”

Kham shrugged.  He pulled out two pistols from his shoulder hostels.  “What can I say, Hastur likes me.”

Beldin stood in the doorway, Sebastian behind him.

“See anything?” asked Vlad. As the lone pureblood human amongst the group, he was the only one who couldn’t see in the dark.

“No,” said Beldin.  He edged tentatively into the corridor with battleaxe in hand.  “Nothing.”

A giant wasp flashed into existence.

“We’ve got an invisible caster,” said Sebastian.  “Keep your eyes open!”

“See,” Kham drew a bead on the wasp’s head.  “THIS is why we need the elf.”


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Part 1b – The Holding Area*

“Where’s the caster?” shouted Vlad. He blocked a scimitar blow with the flat of his longsword and retaliated by clubbing the opposing ssanu with his shield.

“It’s here somewhere!” snarled Beldin.  He beat back another ssanu’s attack.  His armor was still smoking from the scorching that the invisible caster’s spell had inflicted on the dwarf.

Kham growled.  “So this is the Sskethvai cult, huh?” He leaped past the pair of ssanu and rolled to his feet, his scimitar Talon in one hand, Coomb’s stiletto in another.  

Vlad went slack-jawed, suddenly switching to a defensive position.  He backed up.

“I told you not to look in their eyes!” shouted Sebastian.  “Whatever they just told you, resist!”

Vlad shook his head, unable to look away.  The ssanu turned away from Vlad, no longer considering him a threat.  It joined its companion in attacking Beldin.

Sebastian shook his head.  “Fine, if you can’t resist through force of will alone… medicates privates!”

Vlad lowered his sword and shield and stared at Sebastian.  

“Get back in there and kill those ssanu!”

Beldin fell backwards.  Just as one of the ssanu was about to skewer the dwarf, Vlad crashed into it with the full force of a warrior embarrassed by his show of weakness.  The snake man went down in a flurry of hacks.

The other ssanu looked on in surprise, unprepared for an opponent it though neutralized.  Then Beldin’s axe severed its spinal cord. 

With a lunging stab, Kham speared the air in front of him.  A human-like face contorted in rage was frozen in ice as Coomb’s stiletto froze the invisible foe.  Kham spun with Talon and backhanded the ice sculpture, shattering the frozen head into a thousand pieces.

A bloody snake stump shimmered into existence.  It writhed a few times and then fell to the ground.

“What the hell was that?” asked Vlad, staring at the corpse.  “A human-headed snake?”

Kham sheathed Talon and the stiletto. “They all look alike to me.”

“I found something,” said Beldin.  “Marks on the wall indicate there were prisoners held here not long ago.  We must have just missed them.”

“They were priests of Althares,” said Sebastian, his face grim.

“How can you tell?” asked Kham.

Sebastian tossed Kham a wooden hammer, the holy symbol of Althares.

“We’ll never find them down here,” said Vlad.  “The prisoners could be anywhere.”

“Sarish’s ass,” muttered Kham. “I know where they are.”

“Where?” asked Vlad.

“This guy Gresty has a crazy theory,” explained Kham.  “He said that several of the temples in Freeport were actually built over ssanu breeding pits.  That’s why they keep attacking the temples; humans are trespassing on their sacred ground.”

“And that temple would be…”

“Egil’s Temple of Althares,” said Kham. 

Sebastian turned to Beldin.  “Can you figure out how to get to the Temple of Althares from here?”

“Are you part devil?” said Beldin gruffly.  “Of course I can, I’m a dwarf!”

They took off at a sprint.


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Part 2 – Guard Room*

“Incendiares globus!” shouted Sebastian.

A ball of flames blossomed in the center of a band of ssanu.  

Beyond the guard post, Ffasheth preached his own particular brand of racial hatred to a crowded arena packed with ssanu. “The manifessst dessstiny of our people isss to rule the world, asss we did in the daysss of the Valossan Empire!”

“That should take care of the guards,” said Kham.  He began to holster his pistols. 

“It isss our divine right to enssslave all racesss in the name of Yig!” preached Ffasheth.

Two muscular, hulking ssanu came pounding out of the smoke and flames. They were easily twice the mass of the usual ssanu they had encountered.  

“What the—“ was all Vlad got out before one of the large ssanu nearly spun him completely around with a blow from its warhammer.

“The catclysssm that brought about the collapssse of the Valossan Empire wasss due to Yig’sss dissspleasssure at the fact that we had become sssoft and complacent; we were content with our mighty empire, and no longer ssstrove to bring the whole world under Yig’sss rule. Now we hide from the world, hunted by sssurface dwellersss as punisssshment for our failure to complete our missssion of world conquessst.  In order to regain our former greatnesss, we mussst resssume the ancient practice of sssacrifice. “

Beldin blocked one of the blows from the larger ssanu with his shield.  The blow reverberated through his entire body, rattling his teeth.  Some of the stone tiles beneath his feet cracked from the impact.

In the arena, the crowd began howling for blood. 

More ssanu came pouring through the entryway to the arena.  Kham fired both pistols, holstered them, and drew two more.  “They’re going to sacrifice the prisoners!”

“Thessse sssurface dwellersss will be sssacrificed to Yig the Dessstroyer,” shouted Ffasheth. “Their blood will be the firssst to be ssspilled in the great war of liberation that we will wage until Freeport—and the whole of the Ssserpent’sss Teeth—isss once again in the hands of the ssanu.”

Vlad drove his sword right through the ribcage of one of the crazed ssanu.  It would have normally been a fatal blow. 

The snake-thing hissed and smacked Vlad across the skull with the back of its hammer.  Only his helmet saved him from a concussion.

“Once the remnantsss of ancient Valossa are recovered, a crusssade will spread to all cornersss of the world,” shouted Ffasheth, “until the new Valossan Empire rulesss all and the warm-bloodsss are put in their proper place—as ssslaves to the ssanu and sssacrificesss to great Yig!”

“We have got to end this, fast!” Kham drew Talon and Coomb’s stiletto. 

Sebastian took a step back.  “I already unleashed a fireball on them. I…”

“Don’t you have anything else?” asked Kham. He blocked a warhammer blow by crossing Talon and the stiletto together.  It nearly knocked him off his feet.

Sebastian swallowed.  “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Come on!” Kham stabbed the stiletto sideways into the hulking ssanu’s torso.  Ice appeared on its ribcage, but it didn’t react. “You’re part devil, right?  Get angry!”

Beldin tumbled across the floor like a discarded toy, clanking as he went.  His axe skittered one way, his shield another.  The roaring ssanu pounded towards Sebastian.

“I…”

“You sssix are now anointed as acolytesss in the cult of Yig the Dessstroyer!” shouted Ffashethh.

It raised its warhammer. Behind the crazed ssanu, a chant had begun.  

Sebastian looked down at Beldin’s unconscious body.  He was bleeding from the ears and nose.  Vlad and Kham were slowly giving ground.  The ssanu were most assuredly going to kill them.

Something snapped.

The dark-kin screamed.  It was a scream of anguish and pain, suppressed rage and forgotten nightmares.  He arced painfully and bat wings snapped open from the folds of his cloak.

The ssanu paused, dumbstruck.  

“FOOLS,” roared Sebastian.  His voice was guttural and inhuman. “I WILL SHOW YOU TRUE FEAR!”

The folds of his cloak billowed.  Two demonic maws, all teeth and bone, shot out from the dark recesses of Sebastian’s cloak.  The two warhammer-wielding ssanu had a moment to look up at their impending doom. 

Then the floating jaws snapped shut, decapitating the snake men with one gulp. 

Sebastian fell to the ground, gasping.  The jaws disappeared. The fire in his eyes went out.  

“Althares,” whispered Kham.  “And I thought I had issues.”  

Sebastian buried his face in his hands.


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Part 3a – The Arena*

The arena was bowl-shaped, large enough to hold several hundred people at a time.  Passages led out in all directions, connecting with an even greater network of tunnels.  

“There!” shouted Kham.

The sixth brothers of Althares fell, the last in a circle of bodies on the ground.  A pool of blood slowly spread out beneath them. 

“We’re too late!” Beldin cried.

Up on a dais, the ssanu dressed in yellow robes stood, arms outstretched.  Ssanu screamed and hissed from the stands.

Vlad eyed the crowd nervously, sword and shield up.  “We can’t take them all on…”

“We don’t have to,” said Sebastian.  He was strangely calm, arms at his sides. “Incendiares globus!”

A fireball consumed the six ssanu who had sacrificed the humans.  They were instantly incinerated, along with the bodies of the sacrifices. 

Ffashethh hissed and pointed.  Ssanu guards pounded towards them.  

“Time for some race relations.” Two potions later and Kham disappeared.  

Sebastian dug a wand out of his robes.  “Casses!”

A sticky web spewed from the wand, encompassing much of the arena and the advancing ssanu guards.

There was a collective gasp.  Behind Ffashethh, K’Stallo rose up in his blue robes.  

“Ffashethh’s teachingsss are heresssy!  He isss a samat, one of the mummy kingsss of old.  He hasss perverted the teachingsss of Yig! I will ssshow you hisss true nature!”

K’Stallo raised the amulet of Yig. It flashed an emerald green.

In Ffashethh’s place was a massive serpentine being.  It had no legs to speak of, its lower torso exclusively consisting of the coils of a python.  Its massive jaw hung open in surprise.  Two powerful sickles, in the shape of snake heads, were in its hands.

“Ah crap,” said Kham.

“Isn’t that…?” asked Beldin.

“The same snake king that Kham woke up in Freeport?” said Vlad.  “Yeah, that’s him.”

Edward, the conniving first mate of Captain Baldric, had transported the ancient mummy king of the ssanu from his temple.  Seeking to make a quick buck, Edward had tried to sell the mummy to Elijah Quelch, but Kham got to it first.

Despite K’Stallo’s instructions to the contrary, quite a few of his followers disregarded his orders of noninterference.  At various places throughout the crowd, the Hitthkai followers of Yig revealed themselves. 

The crowd did not know what to make of the interruption, or of the spectacle of two respected priests of Yig fighting hand-to-hand.  For a minute or so, nothing happened.  

Then, a full-fledged riot broke out as some of the crowd backed one sect and some the other.

Kham cleared the distance from the arena floor to the balcony in one hop. He made his way over to where the two priests battled.  

Ffashethh slammed one of his sickles down towards K’Stallo.  Though the samat was nearly five times the diminutive ssanu’s size, he blocked the blow with his warhammer. The amulet around K’Stallo’s neck glowed a brilliant green as each blow was deflected.

“A Hitthkai wearing the accoutrementsss of Yig?” snarled Ffashethh.  “Heresssy!”

“You are the heretic!” shouted K’Stallo.  “The old waysss nearly dessstroyed our people! Even now, they are killing each other.  Is that what you wanted?”

Ffashethh paused.  The arena was a roiling mass of serpents biting, clawing, and killing each other.

“Yes,” hissed Ffashethh.  “It is.”

With Talon and Coomb’s stiletto extended, Kham leaped from the balcony onto the back of the samat.  He plunged both deep into the snake-thing’s hide, up to the hilt.  Ice extended around the puncture wound of the stiletto, then melted away just as quickly.

Ffashethh undulated, whipping Kham off of its back.  He slammed into the balcony and nearly fell over the edge.

The samat loomed over him. “I remember you,” hissed Ffashethh.

“Long time no see,” replied Kham.  “Uh K’Stallo, if you were going to make your move, now might be a good time!”

K’Stallo didn’t answer.  Then the samat froze too.  It was looking past him at the arena.

Kham turned to look.  Behind him, the scorched and bloody sacrificial circle began to bubble.


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Part 3b – The Arena*

The sand-stained blood began to bubble slowly at first. Within a few seconds it was bubbling like the boiling mud near a volcano, creating fist-sized bubbles that spattered blood over the first rank of onlookers.  The yellow steam that rose from the boiling blood began to coalesce into a yellow form, taking shape over the heads of the congregation.  

The ssanu in the arena from both sects prostrated themselves before what they believed to a manifestation of their ancestral god, Yig.

But it was not Yig.

A soundless flash of yellow strands blasted forth from the tatters of the King in Yellow. Guards that were cutting through the webs were plucked from where they stood, sucked into the yellow folds. 

“The King in Yellow,” Kham said wearily.  “Again.”

“You fool!” shouted K’Stallo at Ffashethh. “You have doomed usss all!”

Panic broke out; the ssanu choked the exits in their attempt to escape.  

“Squeak!”

Kham squinted.  He knew the source of that sound.  Somehow, it cut through the horrible din of hissing and screaming.

The attacks continued, as the King in Yellow struck the struggling mass of ssanu again and again.  Many more were trampled underfoot in the rush to the exits.

The King in Yellow loomed over a tiny figure.  That of a baby ssanu named Emric.

“Emric, no!” shouted Kham.  There was no way he could save the little ssanu in time. 

Yellow tentacles undulated over the tiny ssanu.  

The ground trembled. The tremble turned into a shuddering roar as an earthquake racked the temple.  Part of the arena wall fell in.  

“Run!” shouted Sebastian.  

In the midst of the dust and blood, a massive being rose up out of the baby ssanu’s place.  It had the head of a hooded snake, two legs, and in place of arms were two more snakes.  It hissed a challenge.  

K’Stallo froze.  “Mother Yig!  Ssshe hasss taken mortal form!”  He bowed low.

Kham blinked. “Wait…Emric was a she?”

The King in Yellow, its tentacles whipping and snapping, turned to face the new threat.  It fired two strands at Yig.

Yig’s snake arms shot forward, catching the two strands in their teeth.  Where they bit down, sizzling green acid dissolved the strands.  

The King in Yellow arced backwards, as if straining.  Then a forest of tentacles burst from its torso, snaking towards Yig.

But the avatar was not to be denied.  It opened its maw and spat a glistening gob of bright green fluid.  The tentacles melted away.

“Where’s Ffashethh?”

With another roar, Yig charged towards the King in Yellow.  Two snake arms clasped onto it, and then the hooded head reared back to deliver a fatal bite.

Kham caught sight of a small snake slithering its way down the steps from the balcony.

Down in the arena, yellow strands fired upwards, spearing the ceiling and the surrounding rock.  The cavern cracked and a huge chunk fell to the ground. The whole place was caving in.

“Oh no you don’t!” Kham ran after it.  “I brought you into this world, and I’m going to take you out!”


----------



## talien

*Soul of the Serpent: Conclusion*

Sebastian, Beldin and Vlad were forced to go back as the tunnel collapsed, separating them from the hordes of ssanu.  

“We lost Kham,” said Vlad.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” said Sebastian.

A tiny snake slithered quickly past them through a crack in the wall.  Kham skidded up to them.

“Open that door!”

Without asking questions, Beldin hacked at the crack.  It crumbled, revealing a crude opening that led to steps going upwards.

One at a time, they half-stumbled, half-climbed the steps.

Kham blinked as he looked around, his eyes adjusting to the flickering torchlight.  “Ah, crap.”

“Where are we?” asked Vlad.

“In the Temple of Althares,” said Kham.  “The basement, to be precise.”

Across the way, Ffashethh, once again in his larger form, touched a scaly palm to an archway set in stone.  

”That’s the portal Egil built to save the Temple in case of emergency!” said Kham.  “How did Ffashethh know about it?”

Sebastian pursed his lips.  “Because Egil didn’t build it. He found it.  If your friend’s theory is right, Kham, this is a Ssethregoran gate. The Altherian priests didn’t understand what they discovered.”

Ffashethh’s tail disappeared through the gate as it glowed bright red.  

“After it!”  Kham plunged through the portal at a sprint and disappeared.

Sebastian hesitated.  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Beldin ran past him into the portal.

“What else is new?” asked Vlad.  He put one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.  The portal started to pulse.  It would close in a moment.

Taking a deep breath, they dove through.

“No, wait!” shouted K’Stallo as he clambered up the steps.

Egil came running down from the upper level.  “Father Thuron?  What happened?”

The ssanu slumped.  “You were usssing that gate?”

“Y-yes,” stammered Egil.  “Why?”

The red light pulsed and faded.  Whatever its destination was now closed to future travelers.

“That isss a Ssethregoran Gate,” said K’Stallo.  “Samats have complete control over them.  I am quite sssure that Ffashethh changed the coordinatesss before he fled to Ssethregore.”

“Changed coordinates?”  Egil looked nervously at the gate.  “To where?”

“I don’t know, Egil,” said the ssanu wearily.  “I don’t know.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 37: On the Red March - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “On the Red March” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

And we’re back in Canceri, just like that.  This adventure deals with the plot points we skipped before.  Sure, the PCs stopped Akali Vervain from being buried forever.  But the Nierites still occupy Canceri.  What of them?

I told George to think about how Sebastian felt about his homeland.  Sebastian doesn’t love the place, but he certainly doesn’t hate it either.  At heart, he understands that fanatics get people killed and that’s never good for anybody.

The question becomes: how far are you willing to go for the greater good? For Kham, it’s never been simpler.  For Sebastian, the answer is a lot more complicated.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Prologue*

Kham readied himself for the usual sensation of passing through one Gate and exiting another instantaneously yet hundreds if not thousands of miles away. But the usual tingling, slightly euphoric feeling was missing.  In its place was pain like he had never known.

Hundreds of red-hot needles pierced his body for what seemed like an eternity until, as suddenly as it began, it was over. He lay face down, nauseated, on a pitted rocky floor.

Kham struggled to his feet.  It was difficult.  There was a rumbling in his ears and the world swam.

“Get up,” shouted someone, far away.  Only they were very close.  “Grab Sebastian, the portal’s collapsing!”

Sebastian was unconscious on the ground.  Kham grabbed one arm and pulled.

Garan val’Mehan, the Sarishan diplomat whom he had met in Coryan, dragged Vlad away from the portal.  Next to him was Helac val’Mordane, the Blackchanter and member of the Emerald Society, pulling on Beldin’s leg.

They stumbled away, even as the portal groaned under the magical pressure.  There was a sudden lack of all sound.  Then the air sucked inwards and the portal collapsed upon itself.

“Where are we?”

“Canceri,” said Helac.  “Ventaka, to be precise.  Ve didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Or for you to use de portal!” grumbled Garan.  “It was barely holding up.  Ve vill have to dig it out and rebuild…de whole place is falling apart!”

“That’s nice.” Kham fell forward on his knees.  The ground rushed at him and all became black again.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 1 – A Mission for the Dead*

The trip inside the ancient city of Ventaka was educational to say the least.  

“I never thought I’d see it again,” said Sebastian, looking around in wonder. The city, its architecture long considered one of the wonders of Onara, had stood for over two millennia.  But it was beginning to show its age.

“There are cracks in the dome,” said Beldin.  He sniffed the air.  “There’s dust floating about.  It’s a bad sign.”

“De dwarf speaks true,” said Garan.  “De city infrastructure has suffered a major collapse.  Sealed for over a year, since de Swords of Nier attempted to conquer it, Ventaka also has all de problems of a city under siege.”

“You guys still haven’t tossed those nuts out?” Kham dusted himself off.  

Helac shook his head.  “Food is scarce, and ve have no large animals vidin de city walls.  Even de rats are laying low.”

As they toured the city, Kham could see that the living citizens hardly looked better than the dead ones.  Everywhere, emaciated and sunken-eyed forms shuffled about on their daily routine.  It was hard to tell if some were alive or not.

“Does it matter?” asked Vlad.  “Isn’t everyone in Canceri dead anyway?”

Sebastian shot the Milandisian a disapproving glare, but Vlad didn’t pick up on it.

Garan smiled painfully. “If de living populace is not somehow preserved, dere is no future for de dead here.”

“What about water?” asked Kham.  “Or wine?”

“Vater, at least, is not an immediate issue,” said Helac.  “De city has a large cistern and many deeply cut vells under de dome.”

They paused at the entrance to cavernous catacombs, filled with winding steps that led down into darkness.

“And dat is vhy ve have brought you here,” said Garan.  “Ve need your help.”

Kham fingered the emerald pin on his jacket.  “I owe you Helac. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“If I can help my brothers from the grip of the Erdukeen,” said Sebastian, “I will do all that I can.”

“Thank you,” said Garan.  “Ve need someone to find Master Architect Sagrivan.  Only he can repair de dome.”

Beldin and Vlad seemed dubious. 

“What about Ffashethh?” asked Vlad. 

“De portal is unstable,” replied Garan. “But Sagrivan may be able to fix it.”

“I’ll help,” said Beldin.  “A structure such as this should not be allowed to fall.”  

Everyone turned to look at Vlad.  He sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll help.”

“Good.  Ve must leave immediately.  Follow me, please.”

Helac led them down into the maze of catacombs and caves under the city.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 2 – Something Foul in the State of Canceri*

Helac led them to the trade road known as the Red March.  It led from Nishanpur south and east into the Hinterlands.  

“Do we even know where Sagrivan is?” asked Vlad. 

“According to Helac,” replied Kham, “he was working on the Red March.”

“So he’s part of a slave gang?  Are we even sure he’s in Canceri anymore?”

Sebastian shrugged. “In Canceri, all roads lead to Nishanpur.  If we can’t find him there, at least we should find someone who knows where to find him.”

“What about Ilmarė?” asked Vlad.

“I sent word via sending,” said Sebastian.  “It will take weeks before she is able to meet us.  The orcs of the Bloody Vengeance are still searching for Captain Scarbelly.  We won’t see them for awhile.”

Mollified, Vlad finally stopped asking questions. 

The winter days wore on them as they trudged along the road back to Nishanpur.  After days of empty plains and several hours after passing a row of tottering and unoccupied crucifixes, they finally sighted the tilled fields that marked the populated outlying areas of the great city.

“Something doesn’t seem right,” said Sebastian.

“You mean the fact that your homeland is a real downer?” Kham sniffed.  

The late afternoon sun shone on untended crops.  Carrion birds circled around one field.  As they passed by, they could see swarms of flies surrounding several large dark lumps among the meager rows of grain. They stopped to investigate.

“Althares!” Kham put the back of one gloved hand to his nose.

A horrible stench rose around putrid, decomposed bodies.  Some of the bodies were emaciated; others bloated and almost ready to burst open.  All were covered with dark splotches and ugly, seeping lesions.  

“This is not the work of a predator,” said Beldin.  “Not even a massacre. It looks more like…”

“A plague.”  Sebastian looked dispassionately down upon the dead bodies.  “This was an overseer and a slave work crew. From the looks of it, the slaves were Cancerese and the overseer from the Hinterlands.”

“The Sorcerer-King is making good on his promise,” said Vlad.

They said nothing else as they moved on.  But everyone walked a little further from Sebastian that day.


----------



## Azgulor

Talien,

I'm finally caught up to Chapter 35.  Great story hour!! It continues to be one of my all-time favorites!

Azgulor


----------



## talien

Thanks Azgulor!  It's great to hear that people read this thing.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 3 – Check Your Bags at the Gates*

They could finally see the walls of Nishanpur rising in the distance.  Around the outside of the walls sprawled what could practically be called a city in itself.  Inns lined the roads and the gates were crowded with people entering and leaving.  Tents and shanties sprang up in the areas between buildings like mushrooms. There were posting along the road in several languages.

“Your hometown is creeping me out,” said Kham.  “What’s with all the not talking?”

The closer they got to the city, the more the silence became noticeable.  Though the streets were busy and shops were full, the area was surprisingly quiet. 

“It has been many years since I’ve been here,” said Sebastian.  “The Nierites must have destroyed the Nerothian spirit.”

Everyone was huddled together, whispering to each other.  Some glanced over at them, then turned back to their conversation to whisper some more.  The whispers all blended together to form an eerie hum that hung in the air.

They joined a long line of whispering travelers seeking entry into the city proper.  They ended up waiting a long while on line, watching others get searched by a group of soldiers of the Swords of Nier.  

Some crossed to a group of Sarishan priest standing opposite to have a spell cast upon them.  It left a glowing red mark on the recipient’s forehead.  So marked, the visitors then rejoined the line.  

“What is that?” asked Vlad.

“The Mark of Sarish.”  Sebastian frowned.  “I’ve only heard rumors.”

Kham guffawed. “I’m not getting a mark on my head so they can track me.”

Each of the priests had the same glowing red mark on their brow, though the soldiers did not. 

“Quite the contrary,” whispered Sebastian.  “It’s for your protection, not theirs.  If anyone attacks you, it summons the Vorlerath.”

Vlad leaned in to join the conversation.  “The who?”

“The Vorlerath,” said Sebastian.  “You don’t want to meet one.”

“Any other little quirks about your hometown that we should know about?” asked Kham.

As it became his turn, the Swords of Nier looked over each of them.  One of the soldiers wore a bearskin cloak over his armor.  He scanned Kham and gave him a business-like pat down.  

Kham opened his overcoat to oblige the soldier.  Pistols dangled from two bandoliers strung across his chest.  

The guard’s eyes widened. “You’d better be a…”

Kham lowered his lenses to look the man in the eye.  His white, pupiless eyes clearly indicated that Kham was both a val and a psionically gifted one at that.

“Move along.”

Vlad came next.  The guard drew Grungronazharr and examined it closely.  “Nice craftsmanship.  Too bad it’s not made of Sarishan steel.”  He turned away. 

Vlad drew back one fist to punch the man in the face, but Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Sebastian held out a jingling purse. “You seemed to have missed this when patting me down.”

The guard turned back.  “It’s a good thing I searched you thoroughly,” he said.  He snapped Vlad’s blade back in its sheath and handed it to him.  “Next time, remember: if it’s not Sarishan steel it’s not allowed in.  I’ll remember you, and next time I won’t be so nice.”

Once they were through the gates, Sebastian took a deep breath.  “Well, that’s one new law that the Nierites instituted.” He looked pointedly at Vlad. “We’ll have to keep our steel concealed.”  

Vlad nodded back.  “Oh don’t worry.  I’ll only draw my blade when I intend to kill someone.”

Shaking his head, Sebastian headed for the Trade Quarter.


----------



## talien

*On the Read March: Part 4 – A Rat in Hand*

A smiling merchant approached Kham, bearing a few robes of shimmering silk from a nearby booth.

“So,” he whispered conspiratorially, “you are interested in architecture?”

“How did you guess?” said Kham with a smirk.

The merchant showed off the silk in the sunlight. “I know that Sagrivan is not all that he used to be.  He is no longer the Master Architect of Canceri.  Only someone who has been away quite awhile would call him that.”  He waved Kham towards his booth.

“We should get some new clothes.”  Sebastian looked pointedly at Beldin.  “We need to blend better.”

Beldin crossed his arms.  “I’m not changing my clothes in this place.  I’m a dwarf, and they’ll just have to deal with that.”

“Don’t look at me.” Kham lowered his lenses to display his pupiless eyes. “I already have my own costume.”

The merchant pointed out the fine stitching along the edges of a cloak.  “I do not know where Sagrivan is, but I know who knows.” He showed several other finely made garments.

“Yes,” said Sebastian.  “Those will do nicely.” They exchanged coins.

“You should inquire at the House of Stone on the Street of Green Tiles,” quipped the merchant.  “They have a fine appreciation there for all things most durable and lasting.” He refolded a fine cloak and handed it over to Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 5 – The House of Stone*

Dressed in their new Cancerese clothing, they slowly made their way through the bustling and crowded streets of the Trade Quarter, heading for that most posh of neighborhoods: the Street of Green Tiles. 

“The guildmaster of the Stonecutter’s Guild is Bashaa Karush,” Sebastian said over his shoulder to his companions.  “If anyone knows about where Sagrvian is, Bashaa would.”

Traffic thinned as they neared their goal.  Small contingents of private guards, many wearing the clean cut garb of local Cancerese Nierites, stood watch in front of elaborate gates.

“Why do they call it the Street of Green Tiles?” asked Vlad.

“Look down,” said Beldin.

The street lived up to its name: bright green tiles covered the roadway itself and in front of the gates to the various houses, mosaics depicted the major businesses or house crests of those that dwelled within. 

“Oh.”

“No horses or carts are permitted here,” said Sebastian.  “Their rough hooves would damage the lovely tile.”  Hitching posts on various side streets provided a place to lave mounts.  Bright-eyed children promised to watch over animals, for only a few asher.

The House of Stone itself needed no markers.  The largest and most heavily decorated building on the street, it towered above all others.  The gargoyles on its roof cast long shadows across the roadway. An elaborate fountain stood before the entrance.  More gargoyles shot tall sprays of clear water in the sky, creating a cool mist.  

“What’s with the gargoyles everywhere?” asked Kham. 

“It’s a tradition for a mason at the end of their apprenticeship to create a gargoyle as tribute to Sarish,” said Beldin.  

A majordomo met them at the door. 

“What is your business at the House of Stone?” he asked imperiously.

“We are here about Master Architect Sagrivan,” said Sebastian.

The majordomo immediately escorted them to a lavish foyer in the House of Stone.  Glasses of warm tea were served.

The windows were of multicolored glass, rare and expensive.  They cast red and purple shadows along the marble floor.

Eventually, the majordomo returned and bowed low.  “Master Bashaa will see you now.”

He showed them through a thick door covered in carving, down a carpeted hall, into a lushly appointed office.

A tall, broad-shouldered man sat behind an ebony desk.  He ran slightly to fat, wearing rich robes with the markings of a Guildmaster.  His fingers were adorned with several large rings and his beard and hair were carefully arranged in neat braids, each capped with gold.  He sat idly stroking a purring, longhaired gray cat in his lap. On his desk were a neat stack of papers and a large sphere of perfect crystal in a holder that resembled three large gargoyles, holding the ball in their claws.  He gestured at the seats in front of him.  The majordomo bowed and retreated.

“So, you have some business to discuss with me?  What can the Master of the House of Stone do for you this day?”

“We seek Master Architect Sagrivan,” said Sebastian.

“Hmm.  And for what purpose?”

Sebastian looked left and right.  “To repair the cracked dome of Ventaka.”

“Ah, yes.  Well, a year ago, when the Swords of Nier took over, all the work crews on the Red March were sent back into the city.” Bashaa’s lip curled in a sneer. “The Master Architect of Canceri was deemed of an unfit lineage to hold such a title and was demoted to the status of stonecutter.  Work crews were reassigned.”

“Reassigned?” asked Vlad.  “You mean they made the master architect a slave?”

Bashaa nodded.  “The city has suffered a lapse in craftsmanship since, as many of the skilled foremen are no longer overseeing work.”

“And what became of Sagrivan?” asked Sebastian.

“Nageel Sagrivan was, ironically, sent back out onto the Red March, though his work detail is now under the command of an Erdukeen overseer.  His crew is doing repair work on the road just a short ways south of Nishanpur.”

“A travesty.” Beldin stroked his beard.  “His work is unparalleled, for a human.  These Nierites are truly barbarians.”

“His genius is lost on them there.  If you say you have a task that needs his skill…where did you say you wanted to take him again? Just in case I have need of him, you understand.”

“Ventaka,” said Sebastian.  

Bashaa nodded again.  He sat very still for a moment, deep in thought.  Then he jolted into action, rifling through a drawer.

“I am of course a faithful citizen of Nishanpur and would never do anything to oppose the Nierites.” He retrieved a piece of paper and, wetting a quill with his tongue, dipped it in some ink and began to write on it. “Sagrivan is a Cancerese man, of Nerothian descent, nearing sixty years of age, and balding.  His crew is stationed about twenty miles south of the city.”

He slid something across to Sebastian.  The dark-kin arched an eyebrow.  “What’s this?” He picked up the document and opened it.

“You might want to provide them this writ requesting a reassignment.” A slow smile crept over Bashaa’s face.  “Please give the Erdukeen my regards.”

Sebastian smiled back.  “We most certainly will.”


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 6 – Follow the Red Brick Road*

After a time on the road leading south from Nishanpur, the afternoon sun began to melt away the snow into a noisome gray slush.  The ground around the road seemed to be getting somewhat drier.  Laborers worked the fields, and a cattle driver brought his animals toward the city to market.  There were fewer shanties than by the Trade Gate.

Unlike the Cold Road, the Red March was well paved, the blocks forming a smooth passage away from the city.  Shallow ruts formed a track that almost made steering carts unnecessary.  In a few places, weeds tore at the edges of the roadbed.

A day later, they were out on the march proper.  Farmland stretched around them, less boggy but also less fertile.  

“The crops are doing poorly,” said Vlad.

Near evening, they heard the sound of picks and shovels. A work crew was visible in the distance.

“Stay here,” whispered Sebastian.  “Vlad and I will deal with this.”

Attired like Cancerese citizens, they approached the half-dozen guards.  

A Niertie foreman with the features of a Takomir and a long braided beard appraised them.  “Yeah?” 

“Ve’re here for de Master Architect—” Sebastian affected a Canceri accent.

“Hah!” he turned to his work crew and shouted in the failing light, “Hey, you scum! Any of you here a Master Architect?” The scorn dripped from his voice.

Several of the workers cringed at the shout, but no one turned to respond.

“I guess we don’t have any Master Architects here.”

“Master Architect Sagrivan,” repeated Sebastian.  

“I don’t recognize the name,” said the foreman.

“I tink you do.  Nageel Sagrivan.”

The foreman sneered at Sebastian.  “What if he is here?  Even if I had him, why should I give him to you?”

Sebastian reached into the folds of his robes and produced the writ.  “I recommend dat you comply or I vill have you reported.”

The man stepped forward to stare Sebastian in the eye.  “Are you threatening me?”

Vlad moved to intercept but the dark-kin put one gloved hand out.  He never let his gaze waiver from the foreman.  “Vhy yes, yes I am.  I tink your captain vill be very interested as to vhy ve veren’t able to procure dis specialist.  I’m sorry, I don’t believe you introduced yourself.  Vhat’s your name?”

The foreman blanched.  He turned away to point at a balding man.  “You!”  

Nageel Sagrivan perked his head up, then walked over to them. “Yes, master?”

He shoved Sagrvian by the shoulder.  “Get going!” When Sebastian and Vlad turned away, he added. “I better not see you again!”  It may have been directed at Sebastian, but left intentionally vague just in case the dark-kin took it personally.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 7 – A Dream of a Lifetime*

As they made they way back north from the workmen’s camp, Sagrivan seemed anxious.  He looked Sebastian over many times from beneath his graying eyebrows.  Finally, he gained enough courage to look at Sebastian squarely and speak.

“Vhere am I to be going?” he asked.  “Have I been reassigned to other vork?”

“Ventaka,” said Sebastian.  “We have need of your talents.”

“Ventaka!” Sagrivan gasped and the words came out softly with the sound of awe.  “De ancient citadel.  I always dreamed of working dere.  I thought I vould never see it.  But…I thought it vas sealed?”

Beldin nodded.  “It’s cracked.  We need you to repair it.”

Sagrivan was struck speechless. His eyes became unfocused as he contemplated the vastness and complexity of the task ahead of him.  “I am…honored.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kham waved him off.  “Do you need anything else? Tools or anything?”

“Yes,” said Sagrivan.  “I must return to de House of Stone in Nishanpur.  I vill need to acquire de help of some of my apprentices, and only dere can I discover vhere dey are stationed.  Please, let us be swift.”

“Oh sure, now you’re in a big rush,” muttered Kham.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 8 – An Unraveling Web*

Fortunately, returning to Nishanpur wasn’t a problem.  Sebastian, carefully disarmed of any non-Sarishan weapons, entered with Sagrivan and accompanied him to the House of Stone.  Sagrivan had to round his apprentices up from whatever work crews they were on, a time-consuming task.

“Is this them?” asked Kham.  “They look a little scrawny.” The work crew was a motley lot. 

“We had to make do,” said Sagrivan.  “I was not able to locate all my apprentices, but what we lack in skill we can make up in manpower.”

With charges in tow, the trip back to Ventaka proved nerve-wracking.  Sagrivan wanted to hear all about Ventaka.  

“What condition is the dome in?”

“It’s not good,” said Beldin.  “There’s dust in the air.  It’s flaking.”

“All the time?”

“Constantly,” said the dwarf. 

“How tall is the dome?”

“Tall,” said Sebastian.  “I have no idea how tall, I haven’t had the chance to measure it.”

“How large?”

“Isn’t that the same question as how tall?” snapped Vlad. “Maybe we should worry more about the Nierite patrols.”

The workmen were nervous. Under the questioning of Sagrivan, they responded inadequately.  Sagrivan began lessons in advanced architecture for some of his worst crewmen. 

“Great, we’ve got a bunch of winners here,” said Kham.  “What’s your problem with Canceri, Vlad?  You seem to like the place even less than I do.”

Vlad paused.  “You know about the Nierites?”

“You mean how they got here?  Something about Leonydas val’Virdan, Sword of the Heavens, getting out of prison.  He sacked Nishanpur, raised an army from Erduk, and then tried to sack Ventaka.  You were there when we stopped them.”

Vlad shook his head.  “After that.”

“After that,” added Sebastian, “the Sword of the Heavens moved his army south and west.” He turned to look at Vlad.  “Towards Milandir.”

Vlad nodded.  “I lost good men fighting Nierites. I feel like we should be out fighting them instead of skulking around here like thieves.”

“There’s more than one way to win a war,” said Sebastian.

It was with relief that at last the great mound of earth in the distance appeared that marked the dome of Ventaka.  Unexpectedly, the smoke of a campfire rose in front of it.

Sebastian and Kham exchanged worried looks.  Then Kham drew his pistols. 

“Well, maybe Garan rolled out the welcome party.”

As they approached, the campfire turned out not to be enemies at all, but rather Garan val’Mehan, once again outside the city.

“Vell, it took you long enough,” said Garan. “Did you bring Sagrivan?”

“Garan, aren’t you on the wrong side of the dome?” asked Sebastian.

Kham holstered his pistols

“Ah, I see dat you have,” said Garan. “Good.  Ve can get to vork now.”

Sagrivan approached Garan.  “Yes, I am Master Architect Sagrivan.  I am honored to be chosen to repair the great dome…”

“Repair it?!” Garan started laughing. “Ve can’t repair it.  Vervain threw us out!  He von’t commit to de actions necessary.  He just vants to hide.  I don’t vant you to repair it!  I vant you to tear it down!”

“WHAT?!” Sagrivan paled, then turned bright red.  “I will not!” He turned to Sebastian.  “You lied to me! You brought me here under false pretenses.  I should know better by now than to trust anyone who has signed a contract!  Well, find yourself another architect, because I won’t do it!”

“Whoa, whoa.” Kham put up his palms.  “Let’s everyone calm down.  We didn’t deceive you Sagrivan, we’re here to repair the dome.”

“What’s all this about Vervain not committing to necessary actions?” asked Sebastian, hands on hips.

Garan let out an exasperated sigh.  “I tried to convince de Akali to commit his undead forces to de fight against de Swords of Nier.  He refused.  Vervain said dat he had already set his own plan in motion.”

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “And then you said…”

“And den I accused him of being a coward.”

“I’m amazed you’re not dead,” said Beldin.

“He threw me out!” shouted Garan.  “How dare he!”

Sagrivan backed up towards his workmen, fuming. Standing outside the walls of the city, it was apparent that combat was inevitable.  Garan was stubborn, the Ventakans uncaring.  The workmen reached into their packs…

“Now wait a minute…” began Sebastian.

Instead of drawing tools, the workmen drew weapons.  They tore off their simple smocks, revealing armor underneath.  

“I don’t suppose anybody checked to see if these guys were actually workmen?” shouted Kham as he drew his pistols once more.


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Part 9 – Double-Crossed*

The soldiers moved in with fierce determination on Garan and Sagrivan.  Sagrivan’s apprentices drew daggers, but they seemed little match for the Order of the Hidden Flame.

Kham aimed his pistols.  “It’s a double-cross!”

“Finally, an excuse to draw my sword.”  Vlad jerked his blade free.  “This isn’t Sarishan steel, either!” He kicked one of the greatsword wielding warriors backwards.  

Beldin hacked downwards at the legs of one of the men, through his banded armor.  The warrior dropped with a howl.  

Sebastian took a step backwards.  “You seek to worship the Fire Lord? I will show you fire: Radius Incensio!”

Spiral flames shot out from Sebastian’s fingertips.  Three men fell backwards, clutching their chests.

Vlad went straight for the commander, who was dressed in full plate.  

“How did we miss this?” asked Beldin. “Full plate?  Greatswords?”

“Magic,” snarled Vlad.

He met the commander’s greatsword head on.  The blow nearly wrenched Grungronazharr from his grip.  

“I recognize you!” shouted Vlad.  “You were at the gate!”

The man snapped his visor shut and hacked hard at Vlad’s shield. It spun away out of his numb grip. 

“You want my blade?” asked Vlad.  “You can have it!”  He grabbed Grungronazharr with both hands and plunged it upwards through the weakness he knew was in all Nierite full plate, after having worn it for so long.

The commander gurgled soundlessly and fell to the ground.

When Vlad looked up, all the other Nierites were dead.  He felt Kham’s hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s over,” he said.  “We won.”

Vlad stood up, wiping his blade.  “It’s never over.”


----------



## talien

*On the Red March: Conclusion*

Sagrivan, his remaining apprentices, and Garan were escorted within the walls of the great necropolis once again.  

Sagrivan was spellbound by the wonders of the city.  “I vow to spend the remainder of my life to help restore the beauty of these dark passages.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” said Kham.  “That doesn’t change the fact that Ventaka is still a city under siege.”

Sagrivan quickly set his men to work on the areas surrounding the collapsed Portal chamber, assessing damages to find a safe way to proceed.  

“When will it be operational?” asked Vlad.

“I predict it should be usable in a month or so.”

“A month?” Vlad was crestfallen. 

Kham clapped him on the back.  “By that time, Ilmarė will be here with the Bloody Vengeance and we can go where we want.  I don’t think I want to go through a portal ever again.”

Garan joined them.  “Akali still refuses to commit troops to open battle against the Swords of Nier.  But I tink I know another vay to get the troops we need.”

“Troops WE need?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian walked over.  “Yes,” he said with a slow smile.  “Troops we need.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “I guess we’re going to be here for awhile.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 38: Heart’s Blood, Fire’s Vengeance - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “Heart’s Blood, Fire’s Vengeance” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure flowed smoothly with the first one.  It also was my opportunity to run every Canceri module I can get my hands on.  The PCs were sick of Freeport, so Canceri offered a welcome, if strange, change.  

We’ve seen Kham’s tumultuous life in Freeport, learned about Cal and Vlad’s responsibilities in Milandir, witnessed Quintus’ duties in Coryan, and seen the political machinations of Beldin’s home in Solanos Mor.  But we never got to really delve into Sebastian’s homeland, even if he was only there for a short period of time as a young boy.  

Sebastian’s feelings about his homeland directly impact the outcome of the adventure. I was fully prepared for the worst, but much to my surprise the PCs ended up taking the nobler route.  In the end, I think it was the better choice.


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Prologue*

The sun had set over the horizon and the night crept slowly over the east.  Garan met them at the Dark Gathering, a tavern just outside Nishanpur.

Though still enveloped in the eerie quiet that permeated the air, there was a surprisingly light atmosphere about the inn. Speakers and musicians entertained with audience witch exciting stories, moving songs, and breathtaking poetry…all no louder than a whisper.

“I need you to deliver a Sarishan blade,” said Garan.

“That’s it?” asked Kham, incredulous.  “That’s your big plan for an army?”

“You will have to do dis ting vithout questions,” said Garan.  “You vill have to trust me.”

“When does it need to be delivered?” asked Sebastian.

“Tomorrow.  At dusk, near de Merchant’s Square. Someone vill identify himself as a servant of Sarish.  Give him de blade.”

“If this blade is as important as you think it is, “Vlad leaned forward, “then the Order of the Secret Flame will be looking for it.”

“Your confidence is undervhelming.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly have great intelligence last time,” said Kham.

“Dere is another vey.” Garan sighed. “A vey through de sewers.”

Beldin slammed a mug down on the table.  “Now you’re talking!”

“But be varned, dey are wrought vith peril.  Dey say dere is a monster dat prowls de sewers, seeking whom he may devour.”

“So what’s the downside?” asked Beldin.


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 1a – Watch Your Step!*

A guide led them to the entrance of the primary sewage outlet but would go no further.  

“The sewers are a maze of tunnels and pipes,” said Beldin, “but Garan gave me directions to an exit that will lead us to a back alley.”

The grate to the sewer system was locked and barred by a blackened metal of unknown origin.  It was cool to the touch. 

“It’s locked,” Sebastian said to Kham.  “Can you open it?”

Kham pulled his trusty dagger from the folds of his jacket.  “One way to find out.” He popped a forest of picks from the hilt of his dagger, turned it around, and inserted the pick into the lock. 

There was the twang of a bowstring.  A dart stuck out of Kham’s arm.

“Ah crap!”  His arm immediately went numb. The numbness spread like fire through his veins, infecting all of his limbs.  A great weakness overcame him.

“Kham!” shouted Vlad.

The val slumped to the ground, staring at his limbs like they were someone else’s.  “Poison…”

“Yeah, we figured,” said Sebastian. 

Beldin shook his head.  “Should have let me open the lock.”  With a mighty blow, the lock shattered. 

“Now…” gasped Kham, “…he tells me.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 1b – Watch Your Step!*

After opening the heavy grate, they made their way into the sewers.

“Are you sure Kham’s going to be okay?” asked Vlad.  “I don’t think we should have left him.”

“He certainly can’t go with us down here.” Sebastian wrinkled his nose.  “I don’t even want to be here.”

The putrid smell of the city hit them.  The remains of things too hideous to mention floated and bobbed in knee high muck.  They stepped inside and began trudging through the refuse.

Beldin led the way.  They moved slowly through the slime, but eventually they made their way to the exit.  

“That’s it?” asked Vlad.

“That’s it,” said Beldin.

The exit was a small grate at the top of a ladder whose rungs were stapled into the wall.  The grated seemed clear.  

“Uh oh,” said Beldin.

Sebastian stared up at the grate. “Uh oh, what?” 

A bulbous eye stared up at Beldin from the sewage.  For a moment, it looked dead.  Then horrifyingly…it blinked.  Slowly, a mass of fleshy tissue rose from the waste.  

“Never mind.”  Sebastian took a step back. 

More than a dozen eyes focused their attention as the creature’s numerous mouths began to groan and chatter in meaningless gibberish.  

Vlad drew his sword.  “I think Kham was the lucky one.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 2 – Guards! Guards!*

Kham approached the gates of Nishanpur.  The ominous hush that ruled over the city seemed far more obvious due to his weakened condition.  

A soldier bearing the rank of captain took an interested in him.  He waved Kham over. 

Kham wearily trudged over to the Nierite.  

“From whence do you hail?”

“Freeport,” said Kham.

“Where are you going?”

“Altheria.”

“What is your business in the city?”

“I am trying to find a cure.  I think I have the plague.”

The guard arched an eyebrow.  “From where?”

“I was traveling near Ventaka.” Kham coughed for effect.  It wasn’t hard; the poison was getting so bad that he had difficulty lifting his head.  “I found some corpses.  I think that’s how I contracted the plague.”

“Damn Ymandrakes,” snarled the guard.  He patted Kham down.  “What’s this?”

He pulled the holy symbol of Altheres from Kham’s coat.  

“That’s a symbol of Altheres,” said Kham.  It was becoming difficult to speak.  “What…you never saw an Altherian before?”

“And this?”

Kham struggled to focus.  It was the symbol of Yig.

“That’s…complicated.”

“Uh huh.” The guard grabbed Kham’s arms and pushed them behind his back.  “By order of the Sword of the Heavens and his eminence, the Autocrat of Nishanpur, you are hereby ordered to lay down yours arms and surrender yourself into our custody for questioning.”

Kham only heard the words “lay down.”  So he did.


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 3 – Deals and the Art of Double-Crossing*

After a day dealing with gibbering monstrosities and avoiding the Nierite authorities, they found themselves in the Merchant’s Square as dusk approached.  Merchants quickly closed up shop and the streets were clear in merely half an hour.  They stood in the square when a man in a musty, brown robe sewn from burlap approached Sebastian.

“Greetings, travelers,” he whispered.  “I am Hemmet, a servant of Sarish.  I have been sent here because you have something for me.” He reached into his robe. “Here is the agreed-upon payment.”

Vlad perked up.  “I didn’t know we were getting paid.”

Beldin shushed him.

Sebastian reached into the folds of his robe.  His eyes widened. 

“The dagger…it’s gone!”

Hemmet smiled and raised his hand.  “Thank you, friend.  It is now in our possession. Know that your actions have helped to bring justice upon these Erdukeen Nierites. There is just one more task that remains.”

Sebastian kept his hands at his sides, a sure sign that he expected trouble. “Oh?”

“Your friend has been arrested.”

Vlad slapped his forehead.  “Again?”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 4a – The Trouble I’ve Seen*

As Kham was moved through the streets of the city, he could feel the eyes of the citizens upon him.  Only the rattling of the chains that bound him disturbed the silence. 

A cool breeze brought the soft hiss of a thousand whispers to his ears. Kham’s arrest had captured the attention of the city, and it was watching him with interest.

His captors took Kham to the local holding cell. Stripped of his equipment, his options were limited. 

Previous prisoners turned slaves brought him food.  Although the taste was bland and the texture pasty, the meal helped roused Kham out of his stupor.  

A few hours later, a man bearing the marks of a high-ranking officer arrived at his cell.  

“I am Commander Haron von Grebel,” said the officer.  “You have been detained for assisting the insurrectionist who stole the Eye of Sarish from the Sarishan temple in Vrain.  I am here to ask you a few questions.”

Kham sighed.  “I just went through this in Freeport.  Do you all read from the same script?”

Haron summoned a sketch artist to the cell.  

“Now, let’s start from the top.” Haron pulled over a chair and straddled it. “From whence do you hail?”

“The other idiot asked me that question already.”

“I won’t ask you again.  From whence do you hail?”

“Altheria,” said Kham.  “I’m from Altheria.”

Haron checked the sheet in his hand.  “You told Captain Virdan-Hartung that you were from Freeport.”

“I just CAME from Freeport.  But I’m FROM Altheria.  Try to keep up.”

“Where were you going?”

“To Altheria.” He took a long, shuddering sigh.  The thought of being imprisoned again made him physically sick.  Or maybe it was just the poison.  “I’m going to attend a funeral.”

“Umm hmm,” said Haron.  “What is your business in Nishanpur?”

“I told Virdan-whatsisname already.  I’m looking for a cure. I’m sick.” 

“You don’t look sick…”

Kham coughed right in the man’s face.

“That’s it!”  Haron kicked the chair away.  He turned to the sketch artist.  “Leave.  Now.”

“What are you gonna do,” snarled Kham.  The cough made him see spots.  “Convert me?”

“Oh I think not.  You obviously profess allegiance to many faiths.”  Haron threw the symbol of Yig at Kham’s cell.  It skittered across the ground. “Do you know how the Brotherhood of Flame brands its criminals?”  He walked over to a smoking brazier.

Kham stopped talking.

“I see you do.”  He lifted a red-hot brand.  “Now perhaps we should begin again.  What do you know about the cult?”

“What cult?” asked Kham, exasperated.  “There’s so many to choose from.  The Cult of Leviathan?  The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?  Then you’ve got the Brimstone Order…”

“You think this is a joke, don’t you,” said Haron.  “Well, I know a way to wipe that smug look off your face.” He was in the midst of unlocking the cell with his free hand when an explosion rocked the building.

Suddenly, the east wall erupted in a mass of dust, stone and mortar.  The blast threw Kham to the ground, pelting him with a hail of rock.

Kham struggled to his feet.  The commander took the brunt of the blast.  He was down.

Most importantly, the bars that held Kham were twisted and bent.  

Kham walked over to the only closet in the room.  He pulled out his jacket, Talon, and one pistol.  

“For once, I didn’t do anything wrong and you STILL arrested me for it.” Kham cocked the pistol.  “I am sick and tired of being pushed around by fanatics and small men on power trips.  That stops now.” He aimed the pistol at the back of Haron’s head.  “See you in hell.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 4b – The Trouble I’ve Seen*

There was a great commotion in the hall and the sounds of battle rang through the building.  A single shot rang out.

Silently, a group of robed men stepped into the cellblock through the gaping hole in the wall.  Vlad, Sebastian, and Beldin followed them through. 

As they did so, the room filled with guards.  One of the guards looked at the fallen commander.

“Look, men.  They are responsible for this!  They have slain the commander!”

The lead soldier lowered his head and glared at Vlad.  His voice was almost a whisper as he drew his sword.  “I say we kill them all.”

Combat swirled around them.  Vlad and Beldin plunged into the battle, ferociously bashing aside the unprepared Nierites. 

Kham was outside when the guards were dealt with.  “Took you guys long enough.”

 “Let’s go!” shouted Sebastian.

Kham leaned on Sebastian’s shoulder.  “Just a sec,” he gasped.  “Trying to catch my breath.”

Vlad and Beldin drew up along either side of him, alert for trouble.

But instead, Hemmet stood in their way.

“What now?” asked Sebastian.  “We have to leave before reinforcements show up.”

“You’re right, we do.” Hemmet advanced menacingly as robed men stepped out of the shadows.  “We simply have one loose end to tie up.”

Kham rolled his eyes.  “Some rescue.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 5 – Loose Lips Sink Ships*

Evening was beginning to fall over the city.  They were hunted, and the streets were dangerous to traverse openly.

“Well, that’s more blood on our hands,” said Sebastian.  He shook his head, deeply concerned.  “We have no allies now; not the cultists, and certainly not the Nierites.”

Kham put one finger to his lips.  They pulled up short. He lifted a cocked pistol and pointed around the corner.  

Kham counted with his fingers.  One.  Two. Three!

Kham spun quickly around the corner.  A wounded cultist leaned against the wall.  

“Don’t move.” Kham pointed a pistol at the cultist’s head.  “Jessica’s feeling punchy today.  Don’t give her a reason.”

Mercy!  Mercy!” he whispered.  “I beg you, spare my life. You have touched the Eye.  I know it.  Sarish’s eye has fallen upon you, and your destiny is forever altered.  The Lord of Secrets knows you now.”

“Yeah, everybody knows us,” said Kham.  “You’re not saying anything that doesn’t make me want to shoot you.”

“I have information that you can use!  I know where the Cult of the Eye dwells.  I can tell you, but you must swear by Sarish to do me no harm.”

“Fine, I…”

Sebastian put one hand on Kham’s shoulder.  “Do not make such promises lightly.  There are grave consequences for breaking Sarish’s oath.”

Kham shrugged him off.  “As I was about to say, I’m not swearing to anything.  Since Sebastian seems so concerned about keeping law and order around here, he can do the swearing.  I swear enough for the rest of us.”

Sebastian took a deep breath.  “I swear by Sarish that, should your information lead us to the Cult, we will not intentionally harm you.”

“Spoken like a true barrister,” said Kham with a smirk.

“As you well know, the Erdukeen invaded Canceri.  They have imposed fines, levies, and a curfew.  Needless to say, they have made more than a few enemies within the Theocracy and the people.”

“We noticed,” said Vlad.

“Well, some of those people decided to revolt.  One man, Ralich is his name, called the faithful of Sarish together so that the Nierites might be purged from Nishanpur.  The cult has a grand scheme that requires the Eye of Sarish.  It is more than a relic dagger you see…it is a key.”

“A key to what?” asked Beldin.

“Please don’t say the grate to the sewers,” muttered Kham.

“Ralich intends to loose the ancient daemons of Sarish upon the city.  While there are priests and clerics who can control daemons, what Ralich intends would take an army to withstand!  There is no time to explain the details to the authorities.  Now that he has the Eye, Ralich will begin the ritual soon.  You must stop him!”

“Where is he?” asked Sebastian.

“The entrance to the ritual site is through his shop, Nishanpur Store and Supply.  You should be able to find it in the back.” 

“Why are you betraying the cult?” asked Vlad.

“Because Ralich is insane.  I chose to help free my people from the Erdukeens.  Nishanpur has always been a harsh place, but it was harsh because it had to be.  Our faith demands it.  I simply wanted to help my people.  Ralich is willing to destroy the city and everyone in it just to strike at the Nierites.  There is a difference between justice…and vengeance.”

Sebastian thought about that as they left him.


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 6a – In View of the Eye*

The streets were empty save for a few Nierite patrols.  Luck was with them as they arrived at Nishanpur Store and Supply without detection.  Oddly, the door was unlocked.

Vlad kicked it open. The building housed a common general store with common everyday items.  

“Over here.” Beldin pushed on one wall and a door opened.  

The smell of age and torch fire filled their nostrils.  A dimly lit spiral staircase led down into cold, still darkness.  

After several long minutes, they came to the end of the stairs.  The hallway opened into a cool, stone chamber.  

A set of massive wooden double doors hung menacingly at the far end of the room.  Huge symbols adorned with images of daemons and devils were carved into the doors.  The wood itself seemed to breathe.  Blue light streamed through the cracks, illuminating the room.

“Open it,” said Sebastian.

Vlad and Beldin bashed the double doors open.

A small cavern was on the other side.  It was roughly hewn, but there was the touch of man upon the place.  Ancient pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling were inlaid with intricate carvings, generations old.  Chains dangled silently from the ceiling and were laid out on the floor in intricate patterns.

At the far end of the chamber was an emaciated old man resting cross-legged on the stone floor.  Around his neck was an ancient symbol of Sarish.  His right hand and forearm wore a green metal gauntlet; save a loincloth, it was all he wore.  In his hands he held the unsheathed Eye of Sarish.

As Sebastian drew near, the old man raised an empty hand.  He looked at the dark-kin with tired, sad eyes.  “You’ve come to stop me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Ralich,” Sebastian said softly.  “Please put the dagger down.  This is not the way.”

“Oh but it is,” whispered Ralich. “Those damn Erdukeen Nierities…” Tears welled in his eyes.  “They wanted to search my shop for weapons.  At the time, I didn’t have any.  My boy resisted their unjust inquisition…and they killed him for it.  THEY KILLED HIM FOR NOTHING!”  

“I say we let him do it,” said Kham.  “This whole damned city is a cesspool.”

“Would you say the same of Freeport?” snapped Sebastian.  “What this man proposes is Armageddon!  He isn’t providing a solution…it’s selfish rage!”

“Those bastards will pay for what they have done to us!” Ralich’s tears flowed freely. “For what they have done to me!”

“But so many will be harmed,” said Sebastian, edging closer.  “If you summon an army of demons everyone will suffer, innocent and guilty alike.”

“We have lost too much to be thwarted now!  Behold, the power of Sarish!  See into his Eye!”

Ralich drove the naked blade of the Eye into the stone floor.  It was at the center of a mystical circle carved into the very stone itself. For a moment, all was still.

But only for a moment.

The ground trembled.  Just when it appeared the stone would crack, the tremor subsided.

“Uh oh,” said Kham.

Then, as though from a great distance, there was the sound like the wailing of ten thousand souls.  The cavern wall began to glow a deep red behind Ralich.  A sharp, burning wind tore through the room.

With a thunderclap, the stone exploded, flooding the room with light the color of fresh blood.  Where the stone once was, there was an expanse of nothingness, pulsing with primal magical forces.

Ralich sat still, the eye in the middle of the storm.  His gaze rose to meet Sebastian’s.  There was pity, sorrow, and loss behind his eyes.  And something else…regret.

“You cannot stop it now, my friend.  The time for vengeance has—”

His words were cut short as several iron chains burst through his chest.  Ralich’s eyes grew wide in shock for a moment before they rolled to the back of his head.  He fell backwards, blood flowing freely from the fatal wounds.

Behind the body of Ralich rose a creature clothed in living chains.  The chains swayed like iron vipers, waiting to strike.  

The creature stepped into the room and somewhere, deep inside the darkest recesses of Sebastian’s mind, a voice was clear, cold, and final as death echoed.  

“Flee, mortals.  Turn away now and you shall leave unmolested from this doomed city. By Sarish, I swear this.  Stay, and we will feast upon your souls!”

Kham turned around.  “That’s it,” he said.  “I’m out.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 6b – In View of the Eye*

Saggy, hooting lemures hopped through the portal behind the chain devil.  

“Can’t you close the portal?” shouted Beldin.  He batted aside an animated chain.

“The dagger!” shouted Sebastian.  He clawed his way towards it, battling wind and chains. The portal was a roaring maelstrom of fury, belching demon after demon.  “Remove the dagger!”

Vlad sliced one of the lemures in two.  It melted away into a nauseating pile.  “I can’t reach it!”

Sebastian moved closer.  If he could just grab hold of it…

Chains snaked towards him.  Sebastian put up one hand.  “Magis arma!” 

A glowing field of force deflected the barbed chain.  He rolled back towards the dagger and grabbed it with both hands.

“I’m not…” Sebastian gritted his teeth.  The wind was so strong that he could barely see.  Tears streamed from his eyes. “…strong…enough!”

“_No one is, mortal,_” the devil echoed in his head.  “_Look upon me and despair._”

Sebastian caught sight of the chain demon’s face.  They parted.  It was his mother’s face.

“_Why did you abandon me?_” she wailed from between the chains that wreathed her face.  “_Why should the people of Nishanpur deserve a better fate than I?_”

“Stop it!” howled Sebastian.

“Let me try!” shouted Beldin. The dwarf hacked a lemure in half as he pounded his way over.

He skewered his waraxe into the ground and then got a solid grip on the Eye of Sarish.  He pulled hard.

Nothing happened.

Sebastian was on his knees, the magical shield flickering as chain after chain lashed at him.  His magic was the only thing keeping him alive.

“It’s in too deep!” shouted Beldin.  The dwarf released the dagger and rolled, grabbing his axe as he did so.  A lemure pounded at the spot where he had been standing. “Vlad?”

“Little…” Three chains danced around Vlad.  One snapped around his shield arm, dragging him forward.  “…busy!”

“That’s it,” said Sebastian.  “Nishanpur is ruined.”

There was the sound of a bullet striking metal.  

The chain devil’s head snapped up to look at the source.  “_Who dares?!_”

Another bullet ricocheted off the hilt of the Eye of Sarish.

“_No!_” reverberated the devil’s cry.  All the chains turned as one with feral intelligence to focus on Kham.

Two more pistols were in Kham’s hands.  He fired both just as every chain in the room spiraled towards him.

Kham’s aim was true. The Eye of Sarish shattered.

All was silent as the portal stopped spewing its hellish fury.  Then it reversed, as if taking a deep breath.  One of the lemures hurdled backwards through the portal.

“_I will not be denied!_” snarled the devil. 

The chains that wrapped around the devil shot outwards, firing through solid stone to anchor it in place.  More dretches flew past it into the abyss.

Vlad fell on his back, sliding towards the yawning portal. 

Beldin grabbed him by the wrist.  “Got you!” The dwarf was nigh unmovable when he wanted to be. 

Sebastian slowly rose to his feet.  

His mother’s face was still on the thing. “I’m suffering in hell, Sebastian!  Look what you did!”

“I’m sorry, mother.” Sebastian extended both hands.  “Incendaries globus!”

The blast of flames exploded inside the portal, consuming the devil.  It shrieked as its chains melted and snapped.  The devil was catapulted backwards through the portal, roaring as it went.

With a sound like a tombstone dropped on concrete, the portal snapped shut.  The air was still.

Kham holstered his pistols.  “Okay, so I changed my mind.”


----------



## talien

*Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Conclusion*

Kham ducked into an alleyway.  Sebastian was waiting for him there.

“Well?”

“It’s bad,” said Sebastian. “Very bad.  The sketch artist has pictures of you everywhere.  But there’s something strange about the wanted posters.”

“You mean besides the fact that I’m now wanted in two different cities?”

Sebastian nodded.  “Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about Freeport.  As far as anyone knows, you’re dead.  That’s what happens when they can’t recover your body in all the chaos.  And that’s what worries me.”

“Okay, now I’m actually starting to worry.  What are you talking about?”

“Commander Von Grebel,” said Sebastian.  “The man you said you shot in the head? His body is missing.  The wanted posters that list you aren’t for murder.  Not yet, anyway.  If we can get to the body or ensure it’s never found…”

“Then I might just have a chance of getting out of here alive.”  Kham shook his head.  “Your hometown sucks.”

Sebastian smirked.  “So does yours. But…”

“But we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Kham threw one arm around Sebastian’s shoulders. “I know, I know.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 39: Silence, Silver and Secrets - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “Silence, Silver and Secrets” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 

Well, well, well.  Where last we left our heroes, Kham had just shot a Nierite officer in the back of the head after escaping from prison.  That was totally unexpected but not out of character for Kham, who was getting more than a little aggravated with the law. 

Far be it for me to let such a thing pass without comment!  Kham’s victim turns out to be a lot more important than he could have ever guessed.  And the stakes are higher than ever, thanks to a little thing called, “whoever doesn’t show up to the game but was in the last session gets to be held hostage.”

Can I hear three cheers for railroading?


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Prologue*

A purple-haired elorii strode into the Bone Market of Nishanpur, looking around in distaste.  It had been no simple feat to enter the city with her weapons intact; the Nierite hang-up about Sarishan steel made it that much harder to smuggle her elven thinblade in.  Fortunately, coins and her natural beauty won the day.  The flirting, with humans no less, made her feel dirty.  She scanned the Market for a place to bathe.

Her eyes lit upon a large, vaguely human-shaped scaffolding in the center of Bone Market. The structure was stuffed with twigs and straw. 

One of the Swords of Nier caught her gaze.  “Ugly, isn’t it? Looks like they’re going to go ahead with their Burning Man festival anyway.”

The elorii arched a delicate eyebrow.  “Festival?”

The Nierite shock of red curls flexed as he shrugged.  “Something the Nerothians do.  We’ve repealed the curfew, but you should be careful tonight.  A pretty lady like yourself shouldn’t be alone on a night like this; the whole week is a festival.”

Ilmarė peered at the Nierite out of the corner of her eye.  It was a clumsy come on.  She was about to respond when the scaffolding was lit. The flames leaped high into the dark sky. 

Even the Nierite soldier appreciated the sight. “Not bad,” he rested one hand on the pommel of the wavy-bladed greatsword that all Swords of Nier carried with them.  “Even the Lord of Flame enjoys a pyre such as this.”

Then the barrage began. Naked, ash-smeared figures emerged from the darkness. Armed with balls of snow and chunks of ice, they assaulted the burning effigy. The sizzle and hiss of the snow hitting the fire filled the air. 

“What?” shouted the soldier.  He whistled and pointed to other similar accoutered Nierites, who drew their swords and advanced on the naked Nerothians.  “Stop them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ilmarė made a mental note. The soldier was much more important than she thought. 

The Nerothians began to pelt the Swords, as well as continuing to hurl ice and snow upon the burning effigy. In some hands, snowballs were replaced with rocks.

The captain nearest Ilmarė fell to one knee, clutching his bleeding head. 

“They hit the captain!” shouted another of the Nierites.  Military discipline turned to rage as the entire Bone Market erupted into chaos. The mob of Nerothians surged around the square, confronted by a growing number of Swords that converged on the scene to try and break up the disturbance. 

Ilmarė backed away from the fracas and drew her sword.  

As a few Nerothian worshippers were beaten down, the mob turned angry.  Several Nierite soldiers were buried under a hail of ice and snow. Scrawny figures clad in sackcloth and ashes struggled hand-to-hand with Knights of the Red Fist in full armor. Several bodies lay motionless, reddish stains seeping through the snow. 

The situation quickly turned into a general rout. The Nerothians’ meager missiles were no match for the Swords of Nier with their gleaming greatswords. The crowd dispersed, scattering back into the streets and alleys. The Swords stood in the Bone Market, bruised and bloodied, staring at the sputtering remains of the burning effigy. 

Another soldier huffed up to the Nierite captain, who was still clutching his head.  Although she was a safe distance away, Ilmarė’s keen hearing picked up their conversation.

“They broke Kham val’Abebi out of prison.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 1 – Violin*

The streets of the Barren Hills Quarter were muddy and slushy with melting snow, but were somewhat cleaner than the streets in other portions of the city. Kham and Vlad had little difficulty in locating Bochin’s. 

Bochin’s stood out from the buildings around it. Many of the other buildings of the city were decorated by typical Cancerese frescoes or bas-reliefs, but this one was unusual in that it was plain, with large windows that were draped with colorful hangings. 

Inside, the floor was covered by skins and brightly colored woven rugs. The hangings on the windows tinted the light that managed to filter into the building in warm tones. Rather than the stark bench seating often found elsewhere in Nishanpur, the establishment had low tables, and the seats were draped with more skins. 

They sidled up to the bar.  “Hard to find a good place to drink around here,” muttered Kham.  They were both already drunk.

“We haven’t had a drink like this since…” Vlad thought, staring into his mug, “since Sweet Savona.”

A large fire pit filled the center of the main room. A roaring fire was built therein, over which spitted animals roasted, filling the room with smoke and the smell of spiced meat.

“Yeah, well,” Kham downed his mug and ordered another bottle from the serving wench.  “I’m down a vice, so drinking and women will have to compensate. Speaking of women…” he looked around.

Most of the patrons were paying attention to a clear area, where a man with the typical braided beard of a Hinterlander sat, quietly playing a large, two-stringed violin-like instrument. Though the man played quietly, almost reverently, his complex tune echoed throughout the room.  He finishes his rendition as they looked on, and an unusual form of applause followed his performance, as the appreciative listeners gently clinked their utensils against glasses and plates.

Vlad’s lip curled in a sneer.  “Nierites,” he growled.  

Swords of Nier flanked them at the bar. They had been heavily involved in the tussle surrounding Burning Man, and most of them showed it, with large bruises on their faces and hands where they were pummeled with ice and hit by the Nerothians. 

“That festival is ridiculous,” spat a particularly striking young Nierite.  She had red hair tied up in a bun and sparkling green eyes.  “It’s an insult the Sword of the Heavens.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t attack what you don’t understand,” Vlad muttered without looking up.  

“You know what’s going to happen,” said the woman.  “The Nerothians are going to use it as an excuse.  With that criminal that they broke out of prison, the heretics are going to rebel, I just know it.”

Kham pulled his hood over his head a little lower. “The Burning Man festival is just a celebration of life over death.”

“Oh yeah?” sneered the Nierite woman.  “I think it was a symbolic slaughter of Nier!  And then there’s the fact that we can’t find the Commander’s body…”

Vlad nodded towards a poster to Kham’s left.  Kham looked over to see a sketch-artist’s accurate rendering of his face. 

“You know what Nerothians do with the bodies of the enemy?” asked another of the Nierites on the other side of the bar.  “They animate them…make them…do things.”

“I’d like to get my hands on that son of a bitch who murdered him,” said the Nierite woman.  “I’d string him up by his loins and light his guts on fire.”

At that moment, Kham and Vlad locked gazes.  Kham nodded his head slowly.  Vlad took a deep breath. 

What the hell?  There was no way they were going to leave the bar without being spotted.

In one motion, Kham grabbed the Nierite woman by her hair and kissed her deeply.  

The woman gasped for breath as Kham let her go.  “Wow,” he shouted at the top of his lungs.  “She really did set my loins on fire!”  He hopped up onto the bar.  

Vlad turned and punched the nearest Nierite in the face.  The man spun off of his bar stool in surprise.

“It’s von Grebel’s murderer!”

The Nierites reached for their swords. The woman shrieked in rage.  Gauntleted hands reached for them…

Kham downed a potion and promptly turned invisible.

“Where’d he go?” shouted one of the Nierites.

Kham moved to toss another potion vial to his companion, but in his drunken state, didn’t remember that Vlad couldn’t see him. The vial bounced off the Milandisian’s head and shattered on the tavern floor.

Vlad went under in a pile of fists and curses as Kham slipped out of Bochin’s. 

“Great,” he muttered to himself, “now I lost my Milandisian.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 2a – Lasher*

The Velvet Glove was an innocuous-looking establishment in the Trade Quarter. Upon entering, however, it quickly became obvious that it was no ordinary public house. Beyond the bar was what looked like a fighting ring, a roped-off area whose floor was stained with blood and sweat. Around the ring sat a few benches, presumably for spectators. A match wasn’t taking place at the moment, though judging by the hardened appearance of the patrons and the way they were constantly sizing one another up, a bout could erupt at any time. 

Beldin the Solani dwarf seated himself at the bar. He knew his way around a mug or two.  

Seated next to him was a most unusual sight: a dark-kin. What made this particular dark-kin unusual was not his heritage, but rather his clothing, which was a close approximation of the uniform of the Knights of the Red Fist. 

“I’m looking for a body,” Beldin ordered some ale.  He and Sebastian had begun combing Nishanpur for Haron von Grebel’s corpse; without it, the Nierites would never stop hunting them. “Know where I might find one?”

The dark-kin looked over at him.  He was a young man, not much above twenty years old. “Name’s Ayrus Dhat.  And you are?”

“Beldin Soulforge,” said the dwarf. “You with the Knights of the Red Fist?”

“I am.”  Ayrus nodded deferentially. “A mere stable hand, but I am honored to be a member.”

Beldin’s brows knitted together.  He didn’t like talking to Nierites, especially about such a sensitive topic.

“You must be looking for the Commander’s corpse,” Ayrus said matter-of-factly.

Beldin took a sip from a mug the bartender provided.  “I might.”

“You and the rest of the Nierite army.  I wouldn’t try too hard though.  Seems that they caught one of the murderer’s compatriots; nearly caught the killer himself, but he’s a wily fellow.”

Beldin nearly spat out the contents of his mug.  “Oh?”

“Yeah, a val’Abebi, right?  They caught his Milandisian friend.  And the Nierites like nothing more than capturing a Milandisian after the defeat of Leonydas’ army. You know him?”

“I know of him,” Beldin said carefully. 

“They think this Kham guy is the leader of a rebellion they staged.  He’s obviously organized enough to coordinate a break out from prison; then there was the incident with the Burning Man…”

Beldin nodded.  “I heard.  You think he’s behind that too?”

“The Autocrat thinks so, and that’s all that matters,” said Ayrus.  

“Hey!” shouted a gruff voice from across the bar.  “Hey, you!  Dwarf!  You’re Beldin, right?”

Beldin turned around.  “Who wants to know?”

A grinning dark-kin with pitch-black skin and bright white horns glared down at him.  “Name’s Marekal.  I heard about you.  You came over here from de islands with a couple of Freeporters—“

Beldin hopped off the bench. Before the rival dark-kin could finger him as a compatriot of Kham’s, he shoved one pudgy finger into the dark-kin’s chest.  “You looking for trouble?”

The dark-kin grinned a mouthful of jagged teeth.  “Oh yeah, you’ve got to be de same guy.  You’re de dwarf who beat Aggro!  I fought dat orc.  He’s one mean son of a bitch.  But I beat him.  And if I can beat him, I can beat you!”

Beldin handed his axe to Ayrus.  “Hold on to this for a moment.”  He turned back to big dark-kin. “I’m used to beating hunks of metal into something useful.  Let’s see what you’ve got.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 2b – Lasher*

Beldin flexed his fingers.  Marekal bellowed and roared, playing up to the crowd.

“Marekal’s the bouncer for The Velvet Glove,” said Ayrus.  “I’d warn you about this place but you’ve already challenged him to a duel, so it’s a little late for that.”

Beldin tied up the various ends of his beard into a single knot.  “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” said Ayrus.  “Just remember, he’s a dark-kin and you’re not.”

“I’m familiar with dark-kin too.” Before Beldin could continue, a bell rang. Marekal pounded towards him.

Beldin stood his ground and punched the bigger dark-kin twice in the gut.  Marekal just grinned.

“Dat all you got dwarf?”

There was a flash of light as two punches connected with Beldin’s skull.  He stood there and took it.

Beldin retaliated with a shoulder ram that knocked Marekal back a few feet.  The dark-kin was big, but no match for a dwarf’s lower center of gravity.

“The Knights of the Red Fist spar vith me,” sneered Marekal.  “You don’t have a chance. Dose fifty gold doubloons are mine.”

“It’s true,” said Ayrus.  “He does.”

“Thanks.”  Beldin put up both his forearms to block another hammering series of blows.  He lowered his guard…

And got punched in the solar plexus.  

Beldin coughed and retaliated with two more punches.

“Vhat?” Marekal looked genuinely surprised.  “Dat should have stunned you!”

“I see you don’t box many dwarves.” Beldin put Marekal on the defensive.

Something slapped Beldin hard from behind.  He spun, convinced that a patron had joined in the fight…

Only to see Marekal’s long tail whipping and snapping out from behind him.  

“You know vhat I think? I think you’re friends with dat Kham guy,” Marekal whispered in Beldin’s ear as they grappled. Two more blows hammered into Beldin’s skull. “I think de Knights of the Red Fist vould be very interested to know all about it. A bounty on your head is probably vorth more den dose doubloons.”

The whip-like tail snapped down at the dwarf’s feet.  It wrapped around one leg and yanked hard.

Beldin barely moved an inch. He reached down and grabbed the tail. 

Marekal’s eyes went wide.

With a hard yank, Beldin pulled Marekal’s tail taut.  The dark-kin yelped as his spinal cord was whipped about.  The gesture brought the dark-kin right into Beldin’s waiting fist.

Marekal landed hard on the floor, unconscious.

Ayrus handed a pouch full of Canceri gold bhats to Beldin.  “Try the Corpse Quarter. If there’s a body, vertical or horizontal, it’s probably shuffling around there.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 3a – The Witching Hour*

When dawn finally broke on the City of Secrets, it was a different world. The usually busy streets were eerily empty. It was as if the whole city was holding its breath, awaiting some signal of what was to come. 

Only a fraction of the usual traffic walked the streets. The people at the inns and markets were more animated than usual, whispering desperately to each other about the events. Many citizens were fearful; who knew what the repercussions of the Burning Man incident would be? 

“Are you sure this is the place?” Sebastian asked irritably. Ilmarė had joined Sebastian and Beldin, having recently disembarked from the Bloody Vengeance.  

Slogging through the dirty, narrow streets and alleys of the Corpse Quarter was an unpleasant task at best. Trying to find a single missing body among the surly inhabitants of the Quarter was like trying to find a match in a bone-bed. 

“That’s what my sources said.”  Beldin gripped his axe, equally aggravated.  

Questioning the denizens of the Corpse Quarter didn’t help much either. No one had seen a body matching Haron’s description, and most of the shopkeepers and other public folks responded in a surly fashion.

“No sign of Kham either,” said Ilmarė.  “And what of Vlad?”

“In prison, near as I can tell,” said Beldin.  “They Nierites won’t even disclose where they are keeping him.  I think they’re afraid of another rescue attempt like the one on Kham.  He’s being treated as a political prisoner.”

“Vlad?” asked Ilmarė in disbelief.  “Are we talking about the same human?”

“What about the Sextant?” asked Sebastian.  “Any luck researching the ssanu archives?”

Ilmarė sighed.  “Yes and no.  The Sextant is a means to an end; it won’t open a portal to R’lyeh, it will just lead us to Hell’s Triangle to open the portal.  We’ll need another artifact to do that.”

“Of course,” muttered Beldin.

“And that artifact is?” asked Sebastian.

“The Moonsilver Orb.  I haven’t been able to find out much more about it other than the name.”

Sebastian stopped another shuffling, miserable citizen and asked once more if he had any knowledge of von Grebel.

 “Why should I care about some lost Nierite? They are all lost to begin with. They interfere in Neroth’s worship, but not for much longer. They shall soon enough learn His truth.” 

“What truth might that be?” asked Beldin.

“All things die. It is only a matter of time.” 

“That’s really helpful,” said Ilmarė sourly. “Stupid human.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 3a – The Witching Hour*

After a soggy, miserable day running around the city, the smoky air took on the crisp coldness of night. A light snowfall began, dusting the ground. 

They ended up searching near the Vein of Sarish, the canal that linked the city to river traffic. Even though it was half-choked with ice, the canal still saw a fair amount of traffic. Men used long poles, with barbs on the end, to break the ice and push it away from their gondolas and flat-bottomed boats. Traffic on the canal was thinner after dark, but barges still continued to pull in and out of the various docks and piers. 

“I just heard a splash,” said Ilmarė.  “As if something heavy was just dropped into the canal.”

Her elven sight caught sudden movement from the shadows near the edge of the docks. A group of cloaked figures was moving away from the canal. 

They ran to investigate.

In the icy water, was a human-sized body floating face down. It was clothed in a torn and dirty tunic and leggings. The tunic was caught on a splintered piece of wood along one of the pilings at the edge of the canal. The body bobbed back and forth in the current, a grisly buoy. 

Something small and furry crawled its way out of Sebastian’s robes onto his shoulder.  “Dracuul!  Follow those men!”

The little bat flapped off in pursuit.

Ilmarė frowned down at the corpse.  “That’s not by any chance the corpse we’re looking for?”

Beldin reached down to fish the body out of the water.

“It can’t be,” said Sebastian.  “And yet…”

“You haven’t even looked at the body!” Ilmarė found all of Nishanpur to be a disgusting mess.  She didn’t relish the idea of plunging back into its alleyways looking for a stray corpse.  “How can you be sure?”

“Because,” said Sebastian, wiping away the hair from the back of the corpse’s skull to prove it was still intact, “Kham shot von Grebel in the back of the head.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4a – Tale of the Body Thief*

Sebastian led them northward through the Trade Quarter and toward the Street of Green Tiles. He led them through the park, which held the Shrine of Swift-Winged Salvation, and continued north, into the Barren Hills Quarter. The homes were much less affluent than those of the upper Trade Quarter and seemed to have an air of quiet efficiency. 

Von Grebel’s family lived a modest home, unornamented, but clean and in good repair. Sebastian knocked on the door.

A man answered with the look of a smith, with a strongly built frame despite his graying hair. A woman stood behind him, older still, her hair unkempt and tangled, her robes frayed at the edges. 

“Yes?”

“We have news about Haron von Grebel,” said Sebastian gravely. 

“I am Yehumik Hatar, who are you?” 

“Sebastian Arnyal, but that is not important. We’d like you to identify a body.”

“You have it with you?”

Sebastian indicated the figure in sackcloth draped over Beldin’s shoulder.

“Bring it in, please.”

Ilmarė snorted.  To walk around with a corpse was inconceivable to elven sensibilities, but then they were in Nishanpur, where corpses walked the streets.

They entered.  A young girl, not more than fourteen years of age, quietly seated herself on a stool next to the man.

Beldin gently lowered the corpse to the floor.  He cleared his throat, indicating the women. 

“It’s fine.  If it is Haron’s body, his fiancée and mother have the right to see it.”

Beldin arched a busy brow in surprise.  The older woman had to be von Grebel’s mother.  Which meant the young girl was his bride to be. With a shrug, he peeled back the sackcloth from the body.

With lamps at hand, they could clearly see the extent of the injuries Von Grebel sustained before his death. 

Von Grebel wore the undertunic, boots and trousers that belong to his uniform, but his overtunic and any armor, including his rank markings, was missing. There were no weapons on the body. 

Covered in bruises, von Grebel appeared to have been beaten, or perhaps to have fallen from a height. He also had gashes on the inside of his arms, stretching from wrist to elbow. 

“Bruising all over the body indicates that he was badly beaten,” said Sebastian. Von Grebel’s wrists had two long, crooked slashes. “The wounds on his arms imply he tried to kill himself and succeeded.”

“But why would someone dump his body in the canal?” asked Ilmarė. “The cuts are jagged, not clean, as they would be if they were made with a dagger.”

“That’s definitely him,” said Yehumik.  “Thank you for returning him to us. Please, feel free to stay until after his body is consigned to the flames of Nier’s Judgment. 

A bat flapped in through the open doorway and landed on Sebastian’s shoulder.  It squeaked in his ear.

Sebastian nodded.  “I’m afraid we cannot stay.  We have other business to attend to.”

Yehumik walked them out.  “If you find his killers,” he said in low tones, “make them suffer for what they did.”

Sebastian’s nostrils flared.  “They already are.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4b – Tale of the Body Thief*

“According to Dracuul, the cloaked figures’ destination was a wrecked shell of a house near the ruined Palaces of the Devil Kings.”

Beldin eyed the structure in front of him. “I don’t like the sound of that.” 

“That little flying rat told you all that?” asked Ilmarė.

Sebastian sniffed.  “Dracuul is an excellent tracker.  I suspect the answer to our missing corpse lay within.”

The place was completely deserted. No one in the neighborhood dared to go near the Palaces after dark. 

Beldin kicked open the door. The house was actually built on the foundation of a much older structure.  Columns covered in Nerothian hieroglyphics lay in pieces all around them.  Flanking the room on either side was a pair of sarcophagi carved in the shape of the Devil Kings of old.   

“Nobody’s home,” said Ilmarė.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It coalesced, revealing itself to be Haron von Grebel. Behind him stood another figure. They both had the gaunt look of those long dead. 

“Do not stand between me and the ones I seek.” Von Grebel said in a low, menacing voice. 

“I will take care of this, Haron,” said the woman. “You have other matters to attend to…” 

“I will not harm my family.” Von Grebel tried to confront the woman, but she silenced him with a gesture.  He cowered before her. 

“You vill do as instructed, thrall.” The woman’s voice held a hint of amusement. 

Von Grebel turned briefly to regard Sebastian. “I am ordered to kill my intended, and her family. If you kill Markeshia,” he indicated the woman, “I will no longer be bound to do so…you do not have to destroy her completely; she is weaker than I am, and I can break free of her control if you but destroy her corporeal form long enough for me to do so. Please, help me. I cannot disobey her direct command, but I will not be too swift in my task.” 

With a quick step backwards, Von Grebel disappeared into the shadows again, a faint misty shimmering all that remained to mark his departure 

“How interesting,” mused the female, her long, black talons clacking as she tapped her fingers against the wall. “Defiance in vord and reluctant obedience in deed. I shall have to remember dat for later. Now, as for you …” Markeshia bared her fangs, and cackled with glee. 

The sarcophagi creaked open. Things long dead awoke from their slumber. Demonic, horned humanoids crawled out; their skin was drawn back over skulls, tufts of patchy hair clung to whitened scalps, patches of bone peeking through frozen, dead flesh. 

Sebastian and Beldin moved back to back.

“And now we know why they call it the Palace of the Devil Kings,” sighed Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4c – Tale of the Body Thief*

“Don’t look at them!” shouted Sebastian.  

The shambling monstrosities with wicked, leering faces culled from the depths of hell, trudged forward with the patience of the dead.

Ilmarė frowned.  “These are mere servants. We’ve nothing to fear from them.”

“It’s true.” Markeshia clucked her tongue. “Dese vere merely slaves. If they were truly Devil Kings, you’d all be dead by now.  But I think dey shall suffice.” The barely clad vampire lifted her arms and howled.

When Beldin and Sebastian didn’t respond, the elorii looked over her shoulder.  They were paralyzed with fear, eyes wide in color-drained expressions of terror. 

“Oh, for the love of Osalian,” muttered Ilmarė. She pointed at her companions. “Leithia achas!”

The dark-kin and dwarf snapped out of their paralysis, gasping for breath.  

“Now,” said Ilmarė, “do something useful!”

Sebastian stumbled backwards as one of the Devil King servants stretched a hand towards him. “Don’t let him touch you, they have the plague!”

The crumbling fingertips reached for Sebastian’s cheek but then stopped.  The Devil King servant hesitated. It recoiled, confused.

Before the Devil King servant could gain advantage of its position, it was smashed sideways by Beldin’s axe. 

“Get a hold of yourself Sebastian!” shouted Ilmarė.  She knocked an arrow with her serpent bow and fired at Markeshia.

The vampire snatched the arrow out of the air.  “You’re not fighting a mere human, elf.  I have lived longer dan you.”

Behind them, near the doorway, a pack of wolves bayed.  Beldin slammed the door shut with one foot, sweeping an arc before him.

“And,” Markeshia’s full lips split into a devilish grin, “I have many tricks up my sleeve.”

“That may be,” said Ilmarė.  “But I have something you don’t have…” she ducked low.  “A sorcerer!”

With a shout of “Incendiaries globus!”, flames blasted forward, engulfing the Devil King servants and the vampire.

The undead servants silently writhed in pain, their features even more hellish as they smoldered and crackled. They collapsed into ash.

“You vill pay for that!” Markeshia shrieked in rage.  Her own burnt flesh was restoring itself before their very eyes. “Children of de night, heed my call!”

The door wracked as angry wolves threw themselves at it over and over.  Then it broke open. 

Four large, silver-backed wolves growled in the doorway.

“The only children those wolves belong to is Osalian.” Ilmarė pointed at the wolf pack. “îdh!”

With a whine, each wolf lay its head down, one by one, asleep.

Before Markeshia could react, Beldin charged forward, axe raised.  He swiped it through the air where Markeshia’s neck had been. 

“She’s escaping!” shouted Sebastian.  The vampire transformed into a mist.  A red vapor snaked along the ground.  “There!” It disappeared into a crack.

“We must get through the floor to her lair,” said Sebastian. “We haven’t much time!”

Beldin looked around for a splint and found it in the shattered door.  He dragged the heavy piece of wood over to the crack. 

“Much time before what?” asked Ilmarė.

Beldin took out his morning star.  With a mighty heave, he slammed the morning star into the splint.  The crack in the floor widened imperceptibly.

“Before she wakes up!” said Sebastian. 

“I’m not sure that this is a good idea,” said Ilmarė.  “Didn’t Haron say that we only had to weaken her?”

Sebastian looked at Ilmarė with a mixture of disdain and surprise at her ignorance. “Markeshia is immortal.  She will never stop.  Perhaps you do not worry yourself about such things, but if we do not stop her now, our children and our children’s children will be haunted by her for the rest of our days.”

Ilmarė looked around.  “I’ll help.”


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4d – Tale of the Body Thief*

“Got it!” shouted Beldin.  “Stand back!”

With another mighty blow, the splint shattered the spider web of cracks that marked the entrance to Markeshia’s tomb.  The floor collapsed and gave way.

Ilmarė hopped down into the hole.  It was a small chamber with a sarcophagus in the center.  Markeshia’s likeness was engraved on the top, a peacefully slumbering form that belied its owner’s true nature.

Beldin grunted as he pushed against the heavy stone lid.  “This will only take a minute.” 

With a heave, he shoved the lid off of the sarcophagus.

Sebastian had his hands up.  Beldin stared down into the sarcophagus. Nobody said anything.

“Well?” Sebastian edged closer to peer into the coffin.  “Beldin?”

Markeshia sat straight up.  “Defend me!” she shrieked.  

Beldin, his eyes glazed, turned and slammed Sebastian sideways with his axe.  The dark-kin collided with the wall and slumped to the ground.

“Praeumbro caliginosus!” hissed Markeshia.  The room was engulfed in an obscuring mist.  When it cleared, she was gone.

“Well, that didn’t go well,” said Ilmarė. 

Beldin looked around, blinking in confusion.  

“She ensorcelled you, old friend,” said Sebastian.  “It happens to the best of us.”

“Not to dark-kin.”  Beldin helped Sebastian to his feet.  “I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary,” said Sebastian.  “I’m afraid I have bigger problems.”

Ilmarė arched a delicate eyebrow. 

“The Devil King servants,” Sebastian leaned against Markeshia’s sarcophagus. “They would not touch me.” 

“Perhaps they knew you were a sorcerer,” said Ilmarė.  She didn’t believe it.

Just then, a figure walked out of the shadows.


----------



## talien

*Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Conclusion*

The figure of Haron von Grebel stepped into view. Oddly, however, he moved no further. 

“It seems I owe you a debt,” said von Grebel. “You have defeated Markeshia, the one who made me. In doing so you have released me from the servitude I would have suffered under her.”  The stoic Nierite, now become something he never intended to be, looked over Sebastian with an appraising eye. He then retrieved a holy symbol of Nier from beneath his tunic.  “Give this to Ashrem val’Virdan at the Temple of the Everlasting Flame. Tell him what has happened. He will heal you. Our debt is cancelled.” 

Sebastian took the symbol.  “And what of your bride?  Will you leave her be?”

Haron paused as he turned to leave. 

“Tell my family I am sorry. I will not see them again. They will believe if you say that I have been destroyed. Better that they think me dead – at peace and consigned to the eternal flames of Nier. I would ask that you tell them that, rather than the truth.” 

“We will,” said Beldin.  “I swear on it.”

There was a hiss of air, and von Grebel disappeared as quickly as he’d come.

“It doesn’t add up,” said Sebastian.  “Markeshia was most assuredly created by the Akali.  Why go through all this trouble?”

“A commander like von Grebel must know much about the Nierite occupation,” said Ilmarė.  “She was undoubtedly a pawn in a bigger plan.”

“Like us,” Beldin began climbing out of the hole. 

“So the Nerothians get their spy, the Nierites get their body, and Vlad and Kham can no longer be tried for kidnapping or murder.” Sebastian gestured for Ilmarė to climb ahead of him. “We saved more than one life today.”

When they were both out of earshot, Sebastian succumbed to a fit of wracking coughs that nearly brought him to his knees.  He spat up something black and viscous onto the floor of the chamber.  The dark-kin had more in common with the Devil King servants than he liked to admit.

“Now,” Sebastian said to the likeness of Markeshia, “If I could only save my own.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 40: A Game of Fox and Geese - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “A Game of Fox and Geese” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 

This adventure really depends on the kindness of PCs.  Since the main characters are “The Touched” (basically, mentally deficient NPCs), it’s questionable if your traditional adventuring party would give two figs about what amounts to a babysitting job.  So I had to tweak the adventure to include a character we haven’t seen in awhile.

This Touched character ended up providing plenty of motivation for the party.  In fact, he was almost too much motivation, as the PCs focused on him to the exclusion of the other Touched. It worked out fine in the end though.


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Prologue*

The bitter winter was giving way to a mild, wet spring. With the midday sun blazing above, Kham found himself in the heart of Nishanpur; the Bone Market. Despite scattered damage throughout the city from the massive earthquake last winter that was still being repaired, life goes on. The most prized and expensive items from all over Onara could be obtained in the Market, from silks to swords, so long as the swords were of Sarishan Steel.

“I’m telling you,” said Kham over his shoulder.  “It was him.  I saw him with my own eyes.”

“Was this before or after you lost Vlad?” asked Beldin disapprovingly.

“After.”  Kham’s head snapped back to address Beldin.  “And no, I wasn’t that drunk.  I know what Quintus looks like!”

“It can’t possibly be him,” said Ilmarė.  “There is no reason for Quintus to be here. In fact, it’s the last place on Arcanis he would want to be.”

The Bone Market was packed with folk of military bearing. Nierites from all over Canceri have had gathering at Nishanpur, as well as Hunder, Vrain, and other sites where temples to the Lord of Battles were prominent, for weeks now. Within days the holy festival of Kindling Dawn would signal a celebration of renewal for all who follow the Judge of the Gods.

In preparation, many were buying imported foodstuffs for feasts, incense and animals to offer in sacrifice, and even extra slaves to help tend to guests during the annual gathering.  Unfortunately, the festival happened to be the same week as the Burning Man festival of the Nerothians.

“Well, I know what I saw. And he was just shuffling down the street around here.” Kham peered through the crowd. “He looked terrible; beard and everything.  But it was definitely Quintus.”

“Maybe you should spend more time worrying about the friends you got imprisoned,” snapped Sebastian. 

“Oh, I’m not worried about Vlad.”  Kham shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets.  “The Nierites wouldn’t think of executing him now.  It might cause a riot.”

The locals were less than pleased with the overall arrangement. The hushed whispers often descended to deadly silence when Nierites entered the vicinity, and many Nierites found that prices for even the simplest items tended to skyrocket when they entered the market. Incidents between the Swords, especially, and members of the local population had definitely increased.

“Besides,” Kham addressed Sebastian, “you bought four of the best barristers money can buy.”

“I hope it’s enough,” Sebastian said somberly. 

Ilmarė froze in her tracks. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?” asked Beldin.  He couldn’t see over the crowd.

“Quintus!”


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 1 – Voices Carry*

A group of men in the garb of Sarishan priests were arguing with a group in the accoutrements of warriors of Nier. Their voices rose steadily, and many people moved away from what promised to become a fight. No one had summoned the guards; in fact, they seemed to be intentionally ignoring the affair.

The point of contention was a group of plainly dressed folk standing idly behind the arguing men. 

“Dese men are not your property, warrior,” said one of the Sarishan priests. He was easily identified by the Mark of Sarish on his forehead, an inverted triangle between two parentheses.  “You have no claim over dem. Leave us.”

“Neither are they yours, priest,” replied a Sword of Nier. “You have no more right to constrain them. And I will not see them led like calves to slaughter.”

“They don’t have any of the typical caste markings of Nishanpur,” said Sebastian. “Who they are, whether foreigners or field hands, is impossible to say.”

Some of the six people look fearfully at the arguing group; others stared vacantly, or were preoccupied with small objects. They consisted of a human female, a dark-kin female, and the rest were all male.

“Quintus,” whispered Ilmarė.

One of the men, with a slightly more muscular build than the others, had a tattoo on his left arm, partially covered by the sleeve of his shirt. It read “Legio Occultus…”

“The Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun,” said Ilmarė in disbelief.

“You accuse us of slaughter?” continued the priest. “It is your kind dat have bathed our land in blood and fire!”

“Yours have been bleeding the land for centuries,” the Nierite replied. “We seek only to cauterize the wounds before this land bleeds to death!”

Kham walked over to the legionnaire and stood in front of him.  He didn’t respond.

“Quintus?  Hey, Quintus?” Kham waved his hand in front of the legionnaire.  “Yep, it’s Quintus all right.”  He pushed Quintus with one finger, but the man’s expressionless features didn’t change.  He merely moved slightly.

“Hah!” snarled the Sarishan. “Leave us before you find yourself food for demons!”

The Nierite put one hand on his two-handed greatsword. “We will not leave until you give over these blameless folk to us!”

“Uh, I think a fight is about to break out...” Beldin reached for his axe.

“Up we go!” Kham bent over and lugged Quintus over his shoulders with some effort. 

“Hey!” shouted the Nierite.

“Leave him be!” shouted the Sarishan.

The Nierite stepped forward, only to find the Sarishan priest in his path.  He backhanded the priest without thinking.

The priest fell.  The Sarishan wiped his face with the back of his hand.  Blood was smeared across it.  

The Mark of Sarish on the priest’s head began to glow.  “You’ll be sorry you did that.”

“Uh oh,” said Sebastian.

“Uh oh, what?” asked Kham.  He was having difficulty keeping the heavy man aloft. 

“Marks of Sarish bind those branded with them to not commit violence or have violence committed against them,” said Sebastian.  “The Nierite just violated the priest’s Mark.  That means—“

There was a popping, hissing sound.  Four shrieking winged devils appeared in a puff of brimstone ahead and behind them.

“Vorlerath Demons,” sighed Ilmarė.  

The Nierites drew their two-handed swords and arrayed themselves in formation as the demons advanced.

“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” said Sebastian.

“There’s something worse than Vorlerath Demons?” asked Kham.  He whirled around, trying to keep an eye on the demons, the Nierites, and find a way out of the crowd.

Sebastian pointed skyward as a pair of huge winged shadows passed over them. “Yes.”


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 2 – Sympathy for the Devil*

Knights of the Red Fist, mounted on screeching red monstrosities, crashed into the Bone Market.  People ran screaming, scattering to the four winds as Vorlerath Demons, Sarishan Priests, and the Swords of Nier

Kham ran as fast as he could.  “What the hell are those?” he shouted over to Sebastian.

“Melatorn Devils.” Sebastian was sweating from the exertion.  “Demonic mounts. For the Knights.”

“Yeah I figured that out,” said Kham. 

“Can’t you run any faster?” shouted Ilmarė, who had easily pulled ahead of them. 

“Do YOU want to carry him?” Kham shouted back.

A veritable melee of spell and blade broke out.  One Vorlerath demon was skewered on the end of a Knight of the Red Fist’s lance, while two Volerath’s sunk their teeth into the other Melatorn’s haunches.  One of the Swords of Nier cut down a Sarishan priest; another priest retaliated by paralyzing a Sword. 

They turned a corner, finally out of the eye of flying Melatorns.  Kham dumped the legionnaire, who stood motionless, and tried to catch his breath.

A Sarishan priest rounded the corner a second later.

Kham had both pistols out, aimed at his head.  

The priest put both hands up.  “Be at peace, brothers!  I only came to thank you for your timely assistance.”

“Kham,” said Sebastian.  “He’s still got his Mark…”

“Right, right.” Kham slowly lowered his pistols.  “Okay old man, what do you want?”

“I am Treterses, priest of our lord Sarish. It seems dat our attempt to be obsequious has failed. I fear ve may again need assistance before de day is out.”

“Yeah, I could use some answers too,” said Kham.  “First, what are you doing with Quintus?”

“I’m sorry?” asked Treterses.  “How do you mean?”

Kham patted the dazed legionnaire on the shoulder.  “This guy: Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.  He wasn’t always like this.”

Treterses blinked.  “Ve found him vandering randomly through Nishanpur.  Ve swept him up with de other Touched.”

“Touched?” asked Beldin.

“Dey are Touched by the gods. Dey are de vay dey are because deir souls could not bear revelation. In shock, dese souls migrated back to newborn bodies, and are trying to either understand, or forget. Though in some places, dey might be considered no better than slaves, or animals, here dey have a special status. Dey are ‘ritually pure’ beings. Many are cared for by deir families, and are tolerated vith great forbearance even by strangers as dey vander about.”

“I’ve heard of these people,” said Sebastian.  “They are untouchable and casteless.”  He was about to continue when he was overcome by a fit of coughs.

“Surely you must have noticed de castes of Canceri?” asked Treterses. “Dese folk are souls who have almost achieved paradise…How can ve not feel dem vorthy of respect? Yet dey cannot function here in de earthly realm. Dey are therefore considered freemen, and cannot be slaves, but yet dey cannot conduct business as freemen. Dey are unable to comprehend de necessities of earthly laws, and so are considered beyond dose laws. Most folk merely let dem live out deir lives simply, make sure dey do not hurt themselves, and try to leave dem alone to seek their peace vith the gods.”

“Yeah, well, I think Quintus only cares about one particular god,” said Kham.  “What were you planning to do with him?”

“It is becoming increasingly dangerous for dem here,” snapped Treterses. “Can you not see a civil var is looming? Ve seek to send them to a community to de east of here, vhere dey will be velcomed. Dose who have families have agreed to let us do so.”

“I don’t think Quintus has family,” said Kham.  “So I’m guessing you just decided for him.”

Treterses looked offended. “Dese folk are untouchable. It vould be dishonorable for us to harm dem. You can see for yourself dat ve have allowed no harm to befall dem. Ve seek only to avoid dem befalling random harm here in de future!”

Ilmarė peered at the legionnaire.  “I don’t believe this is Quintus.  He shouldn’t be in Nishanpur.  He was on a farm…”

“You seem quite capable, certainly moreso den I,” said Treterses. “Escort your friend to the Corpse Gate. By de Vein Canal, dere is a warehouse, vith a gargoyle above the door. Dere ve are meeting with a group dat vill escort us out of de city. I myself must go back to de Temple of the Keeper of Mysteries and report. It vould be safer for de Touched, though, to be taken straight to de Gate and to wait dere…”

“And what of the other Touched?” asked Beldin.

“Dey are likely being taken to de Menagerie of the Red Fist. Ve haven’t seen dem holding anyone at deir temple here in de Quarter. Deir temple here isn’t dat large anyhow...”

“What would Nierites want with a bunch of morons?” asked Kham.

Sebastian finally stopped coughing. “They take them north, to Hunder…to be ritually sacrificed to Nier in their ‘sacred’ flame.”

Treterses nodded. “Dere is a movement among them, especially de Swords, to return to the old vays in de vake of recent events.”

“You mean after the Nierites lost the war against Milandir,” said Kham, thinking of Vlad.

“Yes. Vith the disappearance of deir leader Leonydas, and de great earthquake last winter, many rumors surround deir activities. Many of dem fear dey are forsaken by Nier, and seek to make amends by offering sacrifices in de old ways. Since de Touched are pure in spirit, deir souls vould be considered vorthy sacrifices…”

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “Okay, okay.  We’ll think about it.  Go back to your temple or wherever it is you cultists go to.”

Treterses bid them farewell and disappeared into the winding alleyways of Nishanpur.

“If this is Quintus,” said Beldin, “You can’t seriously consider…”

“Of course not,” said Kham.  “Quintus just needs to have his memory jogged, that’s all.  Let’s get back to the Velvet Glove and clean him up.  Then we can figure out what to do next.  Isn’t that right Quintus?”

Quintus stared, glassy-eyed, into space.

“Sounds like a yes to me,” said Kham, answering his own question.  He pushed the legionnaire ahead of him as they walked.

Ilmarė stood for a moment, hugging herself tightly as she watched them go.  Then slowly, reluctantly, she followed after them.


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 3a – Brother, Who Art Thou Really?*

Leading the legionnaire of the Temple Quarter and through the city was the equivalent of herding a small child. As they continued slowly through the crowds, a homely looking gnome struggled to reach them. He was dressed in simple robes that could have been white once, but had since grayed. He received several buffets from the crowd before he reached them. 

“Greetings…” whispered the gnome in a wheezing voice through teeth half-rotten, “I recognize you…you vere in the Bone Market earlier…”

Kham stepped in front of Quintus, pistol ready.  “That’s close enough, ugly.”

“Ah, no, I harbor no ill intent towards you...You did as you saw fit, as must ve all...But I thought you should be made aware...dat dere is more to dis dan you may know…”

Kham shook his head.  “We’re just attracting all kinds of crazies today, aren’t we?”

“Ah, indeed...I vas vitness to de dispute in the Market there...and to your actions...I am...Brother Gavrin...and I have seen and heard many things...One of my...lesser stature…is often overlooked...”

Beldin stood nose to nose with Gavrin.  “Out with it, half-breed.  What do you want?”

“Dose dat you aided have dark intentions indeed…”

“You mean the Sarishans?” asked Sebastian.

Gavrin nodded. “Though dey each accuse the other of evil...dey both have evil...in their hearts...Both groups are...leading dese blameless...folk to sacrifice…though dey would never...admit it to ones whom…dey wish to dupe into helping them…”

“What are they up to, then?” asked Sebastian.

“Dey will take dem east...to a village in the She’haulk mountains...Dere dey trade dese folk to heretical savages...dat live in those mountains. De folk are used...as offerings in their bloody rituals.”

“And you’re telling us this because…” Ilmarė waited for Gavrin to finish his sentence.

“If you truly respect dis man...den do not turn him over to either group...I know of...a group of Illiirite monks...who would take dem in…de Brotherhood...of de Just Death...Dey do not believe in…human sacrifice…”

“Well, Quintus would certainly be happier with Illiirites,” said Kham.  “I didn’t know there were any here. It doesn’t seem like…” he looked around, “Illiir’s kind of place.”

“There aren’t,” interjected Sebastian.  “The Brothers were an Illiirite group, that slanted their views to more easily appeal to Nerothians, but were not themselves Nerothian. I thought their chapel was burned down a long time ago.”

Gavrin looked surprised. “De Confraternity...is known outside of Canceri...no? Dey are not…followers of Canceri’s dark gods...You should have no…fears of sacrifice...from dem…”

“And where do you want us to take him?” asked Beldin.

“Lead him...to de abandoned Pantheon temple...in de Trade Quarter. De brothers can…meet you dere...I can inform dem...” 

“You do that,” said Kham. “Now run along.”

The gnome flashed them a horrible smile and then limped his way back through the crowd.

“I swear,” Kham said to the legionnaire. “You attract more attention with your mouth shut.”


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 3b – Brother, Who Art Thou Really?*

“Tah dah!” shouted Kham as he led an expressionless man back into the back room of the Velvet Glove.

The booming legionnaire who had once been known as Quintus was unmistakably his old self.  His hair was cut once more to military length.  His beard was gone.  Kham had even found a Coryani-style toga for him, although it was obviously not a military uniform.  

Kham patted Quintus on the back. “Just give him a gladius and a cause and you’ve got your old Quintus.” He led Quintus over to the table and, with a gentle push on his shoulders, made him sit down.

Sebastian stared into Quintus’ unfocused eyes. “What do you think happened to him?” 

Kham grabbed a bottle of Savonan wine left just for him.  “I don’t know.”  He uncorked it with his teeth and took a drink. “But whatever it is, we’re going to find out a way to fix it.  There’s nothing a little magical healing can’t fix, we just have to find the right healer.”

“We still don’t know that it’s Quintus.” Ilmarė stood away from the legionnaire, arms crossed.  “They faked von Grebel’s death with an imitation corpse.  Who’s to say they can’t do that with a living person?”

Kham propped his legs up on the table.  “What is your deal?  You know Quintus’ body better than any of us.” He suppressed a grin.  “Doesn’t he have distinguishing marks somewhere on him?”

Ilmarė glared at him.  “I am not going to give that…THING the pleasure.”  Her hands balled into fists at her side.  “I don’t trust it.  It could turn on us at any moment.”

“I think it is Quintus,” said Beldin.  “I think he got into some trouble.  Trouble he couldn’t get out of. And it’s our duty to help him however we can.  He would have helped us.”

“You have your oath, dwarf,” sneered the elorii.  “If it really is Quintus, then his god has truly forsaken him.” She lowered her voice.  “Quintus was the most pious fool I know.”

“What’s that Quintus?” Kham cupped one finger to his ear to Quintus.  “What?  Your gods killed someone else’s gods? Oh THAT’S RIGHT!”  The val pointed at Ilmarė with the bottle of wine.  “Our gods DID wipe out YOUR gods!”  

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed to slits.  “How dare you…” She opened her mouth and closed it again, overcome with a flash of rage.

“That’s right, we’re all stupid humans!” shouted Kham.  “You know what?  I’m glad Quintus can’t hear this!  He wouldn’t want your pity anyway!”

“That’s enough!” Sebastian stood up between them.  “We’re all on edge.  Let’s try to focus on getting whoever this is to safety; whether it’s really Quintus or not, I will not stand by and allow an innocent to be sacrificed.”

Beldin stood up with him.  “Nor I.”

Kham put down the bottle of wine.  “Fine.  But Quintus stays with me.  I don’t trust her with him.  She might try to slit his throat or something.”

The val rose and guided Quintus out of the room.  He looked over his shoulder at Ilmarė as he left. Beldin and Sebastian wordlessly followed him out.

Ilmarė sat down at the table and picked up the bottle of wine, all the energy and emotion drained from her.  “I still don’t think its Quintus,” she said weakly to no one in particular.


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 4 – True Suns*

“You’re sure this is it?” asked Kham.

Like most of the Trade Quarter, the buildings had shops and restaurants on the ground floor, with residential dwellings on the floors above. They had little difficulty blending with passers-by while they waited near the burnt-out chapel of the
Confraternity.

“My sources tell me that the Confraternity of the Just Death has been seen poking around here, near their old chapel. Apparently they’ve been lying low, afraid of persecution.”

Ilmarė snorted, but didn’t add anything else.

After a time, a brown-haired man in whitish-gray robes slowly made his way down the street. With a quick glance to see that he wasn’t followed, he ducked inside the chapel.

“That’s our man,” said Sebastian.

Kham pulled his cloak further over his head.  Sebastian did the same.

“Stay here with Quintus,” he said to Beldin.  “If you hear any loud noises, hit people with your axe.”

They padded up to the large doors and followed the man inside.

The complex proved to be larger inside than it seemed from the street. The outer wall and rooms were still in ruins, showing signs of the burning of two years ago. 

Sebastian looked around. “Looks like they’ve been trying to repair it.”

As they moved further into the chapel, it became apparent that some of the rooms showed signs of repair.

Kham put an open palm in Sebastian’s face and one finger to his lips. There was movement ahead.

Peering around the corner, Kham saw the man he was following, along with another, younger man. The younger man was plastering a section of wall. 

“I fear things are going from bad to vorse, Prior,” said the younger man.  “After dey arrested de Milandisian, dey vill most certainly persecute us.”

Sebastian was overcome by a wave of fitful coughs. 

Kham rolled his eyes.  “Remind me to not take you with me next time.”

Both of the men turned at their entrance. The older man came forward nervously. “What brings you here?”

“You’re with the Confraternity of Just Death, right?” asked Kham.

“Who vants to know?” 

“Relax, we’re not Nierites.” Kham pulled back his hood to display his mixed heritage.

The man swallowed hard.  “I am Prior Andreas. How can I help you?”

“Brother Gavrin sent us,” said Sebastian, clearing his throat.  “He mentioned that you were gathering up the Touched.”

Andreas exchanged glances with his acolyte. “Ve do not know a Brother Gavrin.  Or de Touched.”

“What a surprise,” said Kham.

“De Confraternity vould indeed take in the Touched, but dis Gavrin is not a member of our group.”

“You like Illiir, right?” asked Kham.  “One of our friends has been mistaken for one of the Touched.  He’s not normally like this…he’s just having a bad day. He needs a safe place to stay.”

“Brother Gavrin told us to bring the Touched to an old ruined temple of the Pantheon.”

The Prior’s brow furrowed.  “Dis man of vhich you speak lies.  I fear de vorst for de innocents you speak of.”

“As do I,” said Sebastian.  “If you agree to watch over our friend, I will require you to swear a Sarishan oath.”

Andreas nodded.  “Of course, ve vill be happy to do such a thing, especially if he vas a man of Illiir as you say.”

“Great.” Kham took out one of his pistols and began cleaning it.  The two holy men gasped. 

“And vhat vill you do?” asked Andreas.

Kham exchanged glances with Sebastian. “We’re going to crash a party.”


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 5a – Scouting the Corpse Gate*

The place indicated by Gavrin where the Oathbinder’s clergy were gathering Touched turned out to be an empty warehouse near the Vein Canal. Outside, it looked shabby, deserted.  Although the place looked run-down and abandoned, there were no windows or cracks in the plaster walls on the first floor through which to view the inside.

“There’s no windows on the first floor, but there are on the second.”  Kham pulled out two potions from his coat.  “And since the cat-girl couldn’t make it today, I’ll be filling in for her with a little help from Falthar val’Abebi.” 

He downed a potion.  Nothing happened.

“Jump potion,” said Kham with a grin.  He drank another potion and disappeared from sight.

A minute later, Kham returned from his reconnaissance.  “Shipping doors are sturdy. There’s a smaller entrance for employees to enter but it’s locked too.”

“Great,” said Beldin.  “So how do we get in?”

Kham shrugged.  “Something went down in there.  There are Nierties trying to pretend that they’re the Confraternity of Just Death, and doing a piss-poor job of it.  I heard them talking about waiting for a cart to arrive, probably with the Touched in it.”

“You mean that cart?” Ilmarė pointed at a horse-led covered wagon that was already in front of the warehouse.  The driver got out and knocked on the doors.

“Ah crap, that’s our way in!” Kham looked around desperately.  

Beldin pounded out of their hiding place towards the man at the door. 

“What is he doing?!” whispered Sebastian.

“Taking charge,” Kham whirled to pursue the dwarf.  “About time somebody did!” 

The man at the door didn’t have a chance.  The dwarf barreled into him, knocking him a good five feet out of the path of the door.  Kham arrived seconds after.  He pulled his cloak over his head just as the door opened.

The guard, concealed under a deep hood, whispered.  “Are you here to deliver the package?”

Kham adjusted his hood.  “Yeah.”

“What’s the password?”

Kham thought for a moment. “Everybody deserves a just death.”

The guard nodded and the doors opened wider.  Kham suppressed a chuckle; the Nierite impostors had no idea what the password was and neither did he.

Kham led the cart slowly into the warehouse.  There were a few thumps behind the cart as it moved through the doors.

Kham took in the warehouse from a new perspective. Guards flanked him on either side. Another hooded and cloaked figure stood atop a pile of crates.

The horses whinnied nervously.  Kham tried to calm them down.

“Easy, easy,” he whispered to the horses.  Their eyes were showing white as their ears flicked in agitation. 

“What’s gotten into them?” asked the leader atop the crates.

“One of the Touched is a dark-kin,” said Kham. 

The horses started neighing in obvious distress. 

“Well, calm them down,” said the leader.  “Filthy half-breeds.”

Kham feigned offense.  “Half-breeds?  I thought the Confraternity of Just Death treated all souls equally.”

“Oh, they do.” The leader threw off his cloak, revealing the red, snug-fitting clothes of a Nierite sorcerer.  “But we’re not members.  I am taking possessions of these sacrifices on behalf of Nier!  Now stand down or face His fiery wrath!”

Kham shrugged.  “You heard him,” he said over his shoulder. “I either stand down or its fiery wrath time.”

Sebastian hopped out of the wagon.  “I choose fiery wrath: Incendiaries globus!”


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Part 5b – Scouting the Corpse Gate*

All hell broke loose.  The fireball caught the Nierites by surprise, incinerating crate and warrior alike.  

Just as Sebastian cast his spell, Beldin cut the reins of the horses.  The explosion and the appearance of the dark-kin drove them to maddened flight.  The horses galloped forward, crashing into sacks of flour and knocking one Nierite off of his perch.

One of the Swords of Nier, who looked just like all his other companions, pointed at Kham.  “Witness the full beauty of Nier’s glory!”

Kham tapped his lenses with one pistol-fisted hand.  “No thanks, I…Althares!”  

There was a blinding light, so bright that it felt as if it had ignited the back of Kham’s skull.  And then all he saw was white.

The sound of an arrow whistled past his ear.  “What now?” came Ilmarė’s voice.

“I’m blind!” shouted Kham.  “The bastard blinded me!”  

“Well get out of the way then, you’re blocking my shot!” she shouted back.

Kham felt around desperately.  He was in the middle of combat, completely exposed.  It would just take one hack of the Nierite’s swords to finish him.

Think.  THINK!  What would dad do?

He would use every advantage at his disposal.  Kham took a deep breath.  

Kham heard Beldin’s familiar grunt to his left as steel met steel.  He had only seconds before one of the Nierites took advantage of his position.  

The gift!  Kham had used it to see into the future.  Perhaps he could use it to see the present, as it was before he was blind.

He concentrated.  In the awful whiteness of his mind, a pinpoint dot came into sharp focus.  It was the warehouse.  He was looking at it just as he did before he went blind.  Everything and everyone was frozen. 

Kham looked around.  It was like staring at a set of museum pieces that were all perfect reproductions of the originals.  The Nierite priest had his finger outstretched, but Kham wasn’t interested in him.  He looked around for the nearest escape route. 

The window!  There were no windows on the first floor but there were on the second.  The jumping potion was still in effect.  He could make it, if he timed it perfectly.

Kham turned his body and lifted one arm.  It felt distance, like he was pulling on strings to make his limbs move. 

He fired.  The glass in the window shattered.  The path was clear. 

Now he just had to jump the twenty feet to the exit.  

There was another WOOSH of flames near him.  He felt the heat.  Hopefully that was one of Sebastian’s spells.  But it could just as easily have been from the Nierite sorcerer.

Remembering where everything and everything was, Kham took a short hop forwards.  Before he landed, he hoped to Althares that the terrain hadn’t changed…

He landed.  Judging from the hollow thump beneath him, it was a crate, just as he remembered it.  Now was the hard part.  There were three crates lined up in a row, then a ten-foot gap.  He had to time it perfectly.

“Are you insane?” shouted Ilmarė.

Kham didn’t have time to respond.  Taking three mighty strides, he hurled himself through the abyss.

Something tinkled around him; bits of glass, he guessed, still falling form the window.  The sounds of combat were muffled, behind him.  He smelled fresh earth.  

Kham was outside. He reached out, felt the wall, sagged against it. The world was still blindingly white.

Eventually, he heard the approach of footsteps.  Kham whipped out both of his pistols.  “Stay back!”

“You’re still blind?” asked Beldin.  “I don’t believe it.  I thought for sure you—“

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I have a good memory.”

“We’ve got all the Touched.  I’m going to bring them back to the Prior Andrea in the cart.  I figured you could use a ride.”

Kham nodded and holstered his pistols.  A firm hand gripped his and hoisted him to his feet.  

“I’m feeling a little touched myself,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Fox and Geese: Conclusion*

Prior Andreas seemed surprised when the Touched were brought to him. 

“Ve are housing dem, for now, in de old chapel of de Confraternity, in de Trade Quarter.” 

“Look, I’m grateful for the healing and all.” Kham put his lenses back on, his sight restored.  “But if you don’t tell me where Quintus is I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoot you.”

Andreas folded his fingers. “Vhen you said dat Quintus vas not normally Touched, I prayed to Illiir to grant him mercy.  And he did.  Vhen he awoke from his stupor, he asked vhere he was.  Vhen I told him, he fled.”

“That’s it?” Ilmarė looked crestfallen.  “That’s all he said?”

Andreas nodded.  “He said something about a mission.  I believe your friend knew his vay around Nishanpur.  He strikes me as a man who can take care of himself.”

“He usually can,” said Sebastian with a wry smirk.  “I wonder if he was aware of us that whole time.”

Kham shot Ilmarė a look.  “I hope not.”

“It is no longer safe here, for any of us.  Dere have been violent incidents between Nierites and Nerothians. Ve vill try to get de Touched out of Nishanpur soon. You should leave as soon as you are able.”

“We would,” said Kham.  “But we’ve got another friend who needs our help.”

“No one left behind,” Beldin said with an approving nod.  “Human or otherwise,” he added for Ilmarė’s benefit.

“It is only a matter of time before the city erupts into open conflict on the streets,” said Ilmarė. “The question is when?”

“Not soon enough,” said Sebastian.  “Not soon enough.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 41: Truths of Purity and Corruption - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “Truths of Purity and Corruption” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 

This adventure is the last of the Canceri modules.  I merged all three of the holidays in the adventures together to take place over one eventful week just to make things easier. Although it doesn’t quite conclude what’s happening in Nishanpur, it certainly brings the political situation to an inevitable conflict.  This lets Sebastian leave the place with a sense of closure.

Similarly, Vlad finally gets his day in court.  He doesn’t so much get closure as he gets to live; but that’s pretty much the same thing.

This adventure also wraps up the whole arc in Nishanpur, explaining what Quintus was doing there, why von Grebel was turned into a vampire, and just what Leonydas and his Nierites have been doing all this time.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Prologue*

The weeklong Burning Man festival was finally coming to a close. Tensions were high; the week had witnessed a series of clashes between the Swords of Nier and the populace. Everyone was expecting something to happen, but what exactly that would be was anyone’s guess.

If ever there were a night for strange events, the last day of the Burning Man festival was it. In honor of Cadic, everyone went masked, with many groups of revelers traveling around in gaudy costumes. Like a dark carnival, the general citizenry held lavish parties, and all social boundaries were temporarily suspended. 

“It reminds me too much of the King in Yellow,” said the purple-and-silver haired elorii with a frown.  “I don’t like it.”

“If something is going to happen, it will happen tonight,” replied her dark-kin companion.  Sebastian smoothed back bone-white hair.  “What better time for an insurrection against the oppression of the Swords of Nier to rise, than the night when no one can clearly be identified and nothing is necessarily what it seems?”

In honor of Sarish, the last night was one of great magics. For the faithful, it was a night when much business was attended to: the Academy of the Temple of Shadows held auditions, and the Temple of the Keeper of Mysteries opened its doors to new initiates. On that night, anyone could seek to change his fortunes. A slave could become a priest, or a nobleman’s son an assassin. Safely masked, they could make their applications, carry out their plots and intrigues, and none need know the results until contracts were signed and the masks came off at dawn.

A gruff dwarf with a beard ending in gold beads nodded at one of the walls.  “Lots of graffiti supports your theory,” said Beldin.

They had all noticed an increase in the amount of graffiti scrawled in alleys and even on the corners of a few buildings. Most of it was anti-Erdukeen in nature, ranging from calls for the overthrow of the Autocrat to predictions that Eremis val’Virdan would soon arise to free the city, to cryptic references of what were presumably religious tracts. 

Spelled out in white ink, in foot-high letters running the length of one wall of the Nihang Council Building read, “The righteous heart shall burn away poisonous lies.”

“That’s from an obscure Nierite codex,” said Kham. “The Way of the Flame. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Horeb’s,” said Sebastian.  “I’m meeting one of my contacts there.”

Horeb’s was on Oath Way. A small establishment, the seating consisted entirely of two long benches. To one side was a long counter area where food was prepared and served. A middle-aged man busily worked at seasoning, stirring, and periodically tasting a large container of stew. He also kept an eye on some loaves of fresh bread rising in an oven behind him.

At the fourth hour past noon, the workday was not yet over, so business for the eatery was sparse. There was plenty of room to have a seat. The few other patrons were dressed as bureaucrats and other mid-level businessmen of the quarter. They talked quietly among themselves, no doubt looking forward to their various entertainments during the evening’s festival.

One bench had folks scattered down it, while the other was mostly empty, with only one person seated.

Sebastian ordered some stew from Horeb.   “You should order some,” he said to his companions.  “Horeb’s stew is actually quite good, especially with the fresh-baked bread to use as a makeshift spoon.”

Beldin and Kham ordered bowls and followed Sebastian to the mostly empty table.  

“I am gratified dat you have chosen to join me,” said Helac val’Mordane without looking up from his own bowl of stew.  “Our mutual friend had hoped you vould be interested in a business proposition.”

Sebastian knew Helac meant Garan val’Mehan, Akali Vervain’s right-hand man and Sarishan diplomat. “What sort of business proposition?” asked Sebastian.

“It turns out dat Akali Vervain’s plan vas more far reaching dan even Garan comprehended.  By turning Commander Haron von Grebel into a vampire, ve uncovered much about de Nierite plans for Nishanpur and Canceri in general.”

“What kind of information?” prodded Sebastian.

“Ve have become avare of a certain person, who has recently arrived in de city, by de name of Baecinia val’Virdan. She has information dat ve vould find most interesting. Please see to it dat she comes to see us. Based on your past actions, our mutual friend believes dat ve have a common goal, and so he chooses to ask for your assistance in dis matter.”

“And that goal is?”

“Vhy, to see justice done, of course. No more and no less. But as you know, dere are some dat have a rather…skewed…sense of vhat constitutes justice. De Swords of Nier here in de city, for example. Dey would not be pleased if de information dat Baecinia possesses vere to come to light.”

“What does our friend want with Baecinia val’Virdan?”

“Communication. A meeting, if possible; he vould like to speak vith her in person. Such things can be difficult to arrange directly. Information is power, as you know, and even de information about who is communicating vith whom is a form of power and of itself. Our friend cannot tip his hand too early, hence de need for others to convey dis message.”

Sebastian nodded.  “We’re in.”

“Good. Give her dis…” Helac passed Sebastian a small folded document, sealed by the Mark of Sarish. “Be cautious not to disturb de Mark…doing so vould have…unpleasant consequences.”

Sebastian took the document and concealed it within the folds of his robes.  “It will be done.”

“Your friend, Quintus…ve discovered dat he was a Coryani spy,” said Helac. “He infiltrated de Order of de Hidden Flame and recovered intelligence as to de whereabouts of a legendary sword named Precision.  But von Grebel captured him. He had Quintus’ mind viped as punishment and executed de other spies.  Quintus has since fled Nishanpur. Our friend thought you might vant to know.”

“What about Vlad?” asked Beldin.  

“De Milandisian?” Helac chuckled.  “He has put our Nierite friends in an interesting predicament. If dey execute him, he becomes a symbol of Nierite brutality.  If dey release him, it vill encourage more violence against de Swords of Nier.  So dey delay, delay, delay.  Dey are running out of time.  De Autocrat has pledged to make a decision by de end of the Burning Man festival, tonight.  It is more imperative dan ever dat ve veaken de Nierite position; if dey feel arrogant enough, dey might just make an example of Vlad.”

“We’ve got more than politics riding on this,” said Kham.  “You take care of your end and we’ll find this Baecinia.”

Helac nodded.  “One other thing.  De Autocrat has doubled de forces looking for you, Kham.  De best vay for de Nierites to get out of deir quandary is to find von Grebel’s murderer.  Be careful. Nishanpur can be very unforgiving.”

“That’s no different from any other city Kham’s in,” said Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 1 – A Request*

Though it was not as large as the Bone Market, the Lower Market in the Trade Quarter of Nishanpur still featured a staggering variety of goods of sale. There were foodstuffs of all varieties, innumerable household goods, and even a blacksmith selling arms and armor of Sarishan steel. The Factors’ Guildhouse was the largest building in the square, and it, along with every pub and inn, was thronged with people of all sizes and descriptions. Merchants displayed their wares on tables, in booths, or just on rugs spread out on any available patch of ground, creating a maze of milling people.

One of the male merchants, who had a bit of a Hinterlander look about him, was having a rather animated debate with a female Val customer, both of them alternately pointing at one another and at the various goods that the merchant had laid out on a colorful rug. After a moment, the woman threw up her arms in disgust and marched away, quickly disappearing into the crowd. The merchant, a somewhat sheepish look on his face, sighed and began rearranging his wares, which included a number of gemstones and even some ingots of a strange, reddish-tinted metal.

“Who was that woman?” asked Sebastian.

The merchant was a man of middle age, of average height with a lean but not overly muscular build. He had dark auburn hair, slightly graying, and brown eyes. He looked rather unsettled and nervous

“Yes...well, er...that was not a customer...that was my, ah, wife, actually.” The merchant spoke Low Coryani with a Hinterlander/Altharin accent that placed him as an Erdukeen. “She and I are new to the city, and so far our journey has not been very successful. She is ...unhappy ...with my efforts thus far in resolving our situation, and my wife is not a woman who hesitates to make her displeasure known. There is no mistaking the echoes of Nier’s fire that flow in her veins, that’s for certain!”

“Yeah, Nierite ladies can be a fiery lot.”  Kham chuckled at some joke only he got.

“Ah, but we have not been properly introduced. Forgive my rudeness. I am Caius Virdan-Dura. And you are…?”

“Sebastian Arnyal,” said the dark-kin.  He introduced his companions in turn.  “We were looking for Baecinia val’Virdan.  Judging from your last name, I gather she is your wife.”

“Yes.” Caius glanced around, as if he was looking for someone. “We are formerly from the city of Erduk. I lived in that city and served in the Swords of Nier, but it was some years ago, before the current Autocrat came to power.”

“Then we have a mutual friend,” said Sebastian. “We were told to seek you out…”

“Excellent!” said Caius. “I am in need of assistance from someone more familiar with this place than I. My wife and I are seeking some former compatriots of ours. We need to find them today. I have heard they may be here, but do not know where to begin looking, and so far my inquiries have come to naught. I simply do not know whom to talk to in this confusing city.” 

He fiddled with the goods arrayed on the blanket before him, rearranging them in seemingly meaningless patterns. Eventually, he found a scroll case and handed it to Sebastian. “Here is a list of their names, along with a brief description of each. In addition, there are three letters. Give them each a letter. They will see it is in my wife’s handwriting and under my seal, and they will cooperate. The letters are all identical; it does not matter to which person you give each letter.”

“How do we get in touch with you when we find your friends?”

“We are staying at the Ebon Steed, which is not far from here. I will also remain here, in the Lower Market, during the day.”

“We’ll do it,” said Sebastian.

 Ilmarė sighed.  “Doesn’t anyone use messengers in this city?”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 2 – A Seer*

Traevus val’Virdan was the first of the named ‘witnesses’ on the list provided by Caius.  

“You sure this is the place?” asked Kham.

Sebastian nodded. “According to my sources, this is his residence.”

Beldin took up his axe and stood to one side of the door.  Ilmarė, thinblade at the ready, stood on the other.

“Let’s try knocking first,” Sebastian said with a smile.  He knocked three times. 

An older gentleman dressed in an old threadbare robe answered his knock. His hair was white. He was thin and taller than average. He squinted at Sebastian with cloudy eyes. 

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Traevus val’Virdan?” asked Sebastian.

“Yes, but I’m retired. I don’t do divinations anymore...You can find diviners advertising in the Lower Market…”

“We aren’t here for a divination,” Sebastian said. “We have a message for you.”

“A message? Come in, come in!”

Sebastian led his companions inside. The old man seemed very eager to hear the message. He sat down hastily in a rocking chair. 

“Is it from my daughter? Would you read it to me? My eyes aren’t what they used to be…”

Sebastian cleared his throat.  “I’m afraid it is not.” He opened the seal and peered at the words.  They didn’t make any sense to him. He was about to show it to Beldin when Kham snatched it out of his hands.

“Interesting mix of Altharin and Dwarven. Anyway! It translates to: It is time; please join us in the Lower Market so we can right the wrong from long ago. It’s signed B and C.” 

There was a little more to it, but the wording was cryptic, and it was apparent the letter was some sort of personal code developed between fellows to assure the genuine nature of the message.

The old man stood, apparently lost in thought, for a moment or two.  Then Travus nodded to no one in particular, as if he had come to a decision about something that he had pushed to the back of his mind for a long time.

He turned around and shuffled back to the door, ushering them out. “Thank you for the message.”

“Wait,” said Sebastian. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I will meet them,” replied Traveus. “It will take me some time to get ready and go, though. And the note didn’t say anything about you coming with me.”

They left, uncertain if Traveus would really show up.

“Too bad it wasn’t a message from his daughter.” Kham thought of his own recently deceased father.  “I almost wish we had delivered a note from him instead.”

Sebastian shook his head.  “I think not. His daughter is a Sword of Nier.”

Kham swallowed hard.  “I think know her.”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 3 – An Undertaker*

The second person on the list was Jurbe Nasaran. He was described as a human male, with red hair and hazel eyes, and a scar on his right arm. 

“That’s it?” asked Kham. “That’s something to start with, but not terribly distinctive in a city with a lot of red-haired Nierite soldiers.”

“He’s also a priest of Nier,” said Beldin.

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “And there’s not enough of THOSE in Nishanpur.”

“The description says he used to perform burial rites,” said Sebastian. “All of the formal burials in Nishanpur take place in the Pits, so that’s why we’re here.”

The Pits were a strange place compared to the cemeteries of any other city. The smell of ash and smoke hung heavy in the air, almost, but not quite, masking the underlying odor of death. The ground was whitish-gray from an accumulation of ash on the granite rocks, and indeed the cinders had almost congealed to cement in many places. The ground was pockmarked with large holes, a few of which had the burnt remains of large logs protruding from them.

A few families were gathered around biers in various areas. One group carried a sarcophagus down into the catacombs at the far end of the Pits. On the west side of the field, a group of men erected a scaffold of logs on top of one of the large holes. A few shiny beetles, several inches long, scurried along the ground.

Sebastian smiled benevolently down at the beetles.  “Flesh-eating scarabs.” He carefully stepped around the insects.  “We call them Neroth’s Children.”

“Charming,” said Ilmarė. 

A man in the black and brown robes of a Nerothian approached.  “Greetings. Do you require our services, or are you here for a funeral ritual that has already been planned? I can direct you to the proper location.”

“We’re here to find Jurbe Nasaran,” said Sebastian. “Does he work here?”

“Ah, you require a Nierite ritual, then? Yes, Jurbe does perform services here. He is currently occupied, however. I can help with the details and make sure your ritual is added to his upcoming schedule. Tell me, do you wish an Erdukeen rite, or do you prefer one in the local fashion?”

“No, we aren’t here for a funeral,” replied Sebastian. “We just need to find Jurbe, we have a message for him.”

“I see,” the priest looked mildly perturbed. “Well, as I said, Jurbe is currently occupied. I can deliver your message.”

Sebastian and Kham exchanged glances.  “We prefer to deliver the message in person.”

The Nerothian shrugged. “As you wish. He is over there.” He indicated the scaffolding. “But he is busy preparing for a rite tomorrow morning. Please do not disturb him more than necessary.” The Nerothian pointed out a middle-aged man with thinning red hair, who was doing some work on top of the scaffolding.

Jurbe Nasaran was very involved in his task. He was placing bundles of incense into specific positions among the growing structure of large logs. The entire thing was apparently intended to be a huge funeral pyre.

When Sebastian finally got his attention, a brief look of frustration, quickly stifled, flashed across his face. “Yes, do you need help with something?”

“Are you Jurbe Nasaran?”

“Yes, yes, I am he. What can I do for you? Do you require services?”

“We were asked to deliver this message to you.“ Sebastian handed him the note. 

Jurbe opened the note and looked it over. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. 

Then he crumpled the paper into a small ball and tossed it into a pile of kindling being prepared for the pyre.

“Thank you for bringing this. You may go. I have no response.”

“What?” asked Sebastian. “You won’t come with us to see Caius and Baecinia?”

Jurbe winced visibly at the sound of their names. “At this moment, I cannot leave the task at hand, and whether or not I decide ever to I see them is not your concern.”

“It is imperative you attend,” said Sebastian.  “This is of vital importance for all of Nishanpur, and perhaps Canceri.”

“What they don’t seem to understand, and perhaps you don’t realize, is that the past is the past,” snapped Jurbe. “What they want to do won’t change anything. All they are doing is ruining their own futures. Do you realize that for the last eight years, I have consistently been passed over for advancement in my order? I am fortunate that I am permitted to have a job at all. I don’t wish to jeopardize my future because they have suddenly decided that now is the time for their strange notion of justice. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do!”

Kham put one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to silence him. “I know a thing or two about Nierite cremation rituals,” Kham said to Jurbe.  “Mind if I help?”

“Y-yes.” Jurbe looked surprised. “That would be helpful.”

Kham steered Jurbe away from the others, winking back at them as he did so.

Jurbe handed Kham a bundle of incense.  “Placing these incense sticks is a challenge,” said Jurbe.  “They must be positioned just so, lest the wind blow them out.  If a stick goes out, the families consider it a judgment of Nier against their relative’s soul.”

“I’ve seen this before.” Kham nodded.  “The trick is to put them low enough to the ground so that they’re not caught in the wind, but not so low that they’re in the updraft.  All that heat generates a lot of wind,” he grinned, “sort of like Nierite politics.”

Jurbe laughed in spite of himself.  “You are learned man…I didn’t catch your name?”

Kham lowered his lenses to reveal his white pupils and evidence of his val heritage.  “It’s not important.” He hoped that the priest hadn’t looked at any wanted posters recently. 

Jurbe began placing some of the sticks of incense as Kham instructed.  “How did you come to know so much about Nierite rituals?”

“I’m part-Altharin; it comes naturally.”  Kham coughed into one hand as some of the incense wafted back in his face.  “Truth be told, I’m hoping you can teach me a thing or two.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Jurbe.  “Your instructions cut my task in half.”

“I’ve recently…lost someone. I am concerned about his body.”

Jurbe pursed his lips. “Undeath, you mean.”

Kham nodded.  “I want to know how to perform the Nierite Sending ceremony correctly.  It’s what my father would have wanted.”

Jurbe smiled sympathetically.  “Then I will do my very best to teach it to you.”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 4 – A Smith*

Kham returned to the others with a self-satisfied smirk. “Jurbe will go to the meeting.”

Sebastian clapped Kham’s back in surprise.  “How in the world did you manage that?”

The val shrugged.  “Sometimes you have to earn peoples’ trust.”

“And you know all about that,” said Ilmarė flatly.

“Who’s next on the list?” Sebastian asked Beldin before another argument broke out.

Beldin scanned the list. “The third name on the list is Angven Des. Hmm, there’s a Master Smith in Nishanpur named Harmon Des.  If I remember correctly, Angven is his niece.”

“You know her?” asked Sebastian.

Beldin stroked his beard.  “I know of her.  Angven’s been working at her uncle’s forge, Harmon’s Harnessing.”

“Well since you’re a dwarf,” Kham said to Beldin, stating the obvious. “You handle this one.”

“Now wait a minute,” began Beldin, “just because we’re of the same race—“

“Oh come on, you’re a natural charmer,” rapped a knuckle on Beldin’s helmet.  “It’s a woman, right?  Say something nice about her eyes when you meet her.”

Beldin grumbled something under his breath.

The clang of metal on metal was loud and steady as they approached Harmon’s Harnessing. The temperature became significantly hotter as they approached the forge. Suddenly, a huge shape, one of the Red Fist’s Melatorn Devils, launched itself upward off the roof with a boom of wing beats.

Kham flinched.  “Althares!  I hate those things!”

After a moment, a scarred and dour dwarf trundled down a stairway from the roof. He glared at Beldin suspiciously.

“Yeah?” he growled. “Whadda you want?”

“We’re looking for Angven Des,” said Beldin. “Is she here?”

“Whadda I look like, her scribe? ANGVEN!” the old dwarf shouted over the forge noise, causing several apprentices to cringe.  He retreated into the shop, still grumbling.

After another shout, the workers shifted and a female dwarf of indeterminate age came towards them. She wore a minimum of clothing, but otherwise was little discomfited by the heat. Soot clung to her like a second skin. She carried a blacksmith’s hammer in one hand. 

“Yeah?” said Agven. “Whadda you want?”

“That’s amazing,” Kham whispered to Sebastian.  “Is she a ventriloquist’s dummy?  She sounds just like her uncle.”

Sebastian shushed him. 

“Are you Angven Des?” asked Beldin. “We have a message for you.”  He handed her the letter. 

“Yeah, sure, fine.” Angven opened the message and read it quickly. “Oh, no. They can kiss my—“ CLANG! A sudden loud boom from the forge drowned out the rest of Angven’s ill-tempered response.

She crumpled up the note and threw it into the forge-fire behind her, where it was incinerated instantly.

A voice from behind bellowed, “Don’t you DARE throw trash into that fire! You know better! You’ll ruin the temper!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, you old—“ CLANG! “Anyway. I gotta get back to work.” Angven gave Beldin a sour look and turned to leave.

“Wait!” shouted Beldin. “Why won’t you come to see Caius and Baecinia?”

Angven turned back to Beldin with a look of anger on her face. She punctuated her words with periodic hammer blows on a nearby anvil. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with me other than really—“ CLANG! “—ing up my life. I am not going to go—“ CLANG! “—ing off the Erdukeen just because some human—“ CLANG! “has a score to settle. I have to trek back up that mountain every so often, and I don’t feel like having to—“ CLANG! “—ing dodge attacks while doing so! I’d like to be able to go home without risking my—“ CLANG! “—ing hide! Now go jump off a cliff and leave me alone!”

Sebastian blinked in surprise. “I expected better from a dwarf,” he muttered.

Angven turned away, muttering.

“I myself am an apprentice to Elabac, the legendary smith of Solanos Mor,” said Beldin. “I’m sure you’d find a welcome forge there, should you require supplies.”

Angven turned back, appraising Beldin. “Oh really?”

Kham shoved Beldin on the shoulder. 

“Especially a Nol Dappan with such attractive eyes,” added Beldin.  

A bright white smile split Angven’s face.  “Hmmm.” She appraised Beldin up and down. “Okay, I’ll go.  But I have to finish my shift at the bellows of the forge. A job’s a job, you know.”

Angven turned away again, disappearing into the heat.  

“I feel a little dirty,” Beldin said glumly.

Kham patted Beldin on the back. “Welcome to my world, dwarf.”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 5a – A Reunion*

As day began to fade into twilight, the crowds of shoppers thinned. A small numbers of early partygoers began to make their way through the city streets. The festival promised to be huge, in spite of the tension in the city...or perhaps because of it.

An older woman approached, crossing the market with a bit more ease than was possible earlier in the day. She had graying auburn hair and gray eyes. She walked with poise and confidence, her posture almost rigidly straight, and moved straight to Caius.

“Ah, are these the ones you spoke of, Caius?” she said. 

“You must be Baecinia.” Sebastian inclined his head.  “I am Sebastian Arnyal.” He began to introduce the others when Baecinia interrupted him.

“I can see they are,” said Baecinia. “Tell me, have you been able to locate our friends?”

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “All of them are going to meet you at the Ebon Steed at the agreed-upon time.”

Baecinia smiled thinly. “I hope Caius has negotiated a fair settlement with you for your services? Yes?”

“Actually…” began Ilmarė.

“Good, in that case, you may select the items that you wish to have as payment. I do have one last request, however.”

Sebastian pulled Helac’s note out of his robes. “Before you make any requests of us, we have a message for you.”

Baecinia opened the note and read it quickly. Her eyebrows rose for a moment, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Well?” asked Ilmarė.  She was beginning to get irritated by all the secrecy.

“I have been offered something more than what I was expecting from our mutual friend,” said Baecinia. “It only makes this next task even more imperative. This evening, I wish to make a last will and testament before a consecrated acolyte of Sarish. I have heard that such arrangements can be made through the scribes at the Silver Cage. Please go there swiftly, and return with such a person. We will bundle up our goods and take all our friends to the Ebon Steed where we can settle this matter. Please bring the scribe there.”

“Last will and testament?” asked Beldin.  “Planning on going somewhere?”

“Let’s hope not,” Baecinia said grimly. “This should satisfy the scribes that proper payment will be available to them.” She handed Sebastian an unsealed wrapped around a block of incense.  “Please ask specifically for Nutesh val’Mehen when you arrive at the Silver Cage.”

Ilmarė shook her head as they left the square on yet another messenger run.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 5b – A Reunion*

They quickly arrived at the Silver Cage. 

“We’re here for Nutesh val’Mehen,” said Sebastian. 

The acolyte that greeted them cleared his throat.  “The Chief Scribe is VERY busy.”

“I’m sure he is,” Sebastian said sternly.  “This is important.  Got get him.”

Kham threw back his overcoat to display his pistols.  The acolyte left quickly.

The acolyte returned with the Chief Scribe.  Nutesh val’Mehen was a stocky man, in his late fifties, with steel gray hair and gray eyes. He was wearing bright many colored robes and a fez.  He carried an ornate rod in one hand. 

“Vhat can I do for you?” asked Nutesh.

“Baecinia has need of your services.” Sebastian handed Nutesh the incense and the note.  “It is a matter of great import.  You must come immediately.”

Nutesh unfolded the note and scanned it.   A flicker of emotions flashed over his face, alternately concerned and determined. Nutesh hefted the incense in one hand as he weighed his decision.

“Yes, of course,” replied the Sarishan.  He gathered up a traveling cloak and pulled it around him.  

“What’s so special about a block of wax?” asked Kham.

“Dis is no ordinary candle.  It is a promise of payment,” said Nutesh.  “It is also a Taper of Truth.  No lies can be told in its presence.  It vill verify dat vhat Baecinia asks me to bear vitness vill be told truly.”

“And we’re bringing you along because…” added Ilmarė.

“Because all who bear vitness vill be Oathbound by Sarish.  Dis is no small thing dat Baecinia asks.”

Kham took a swig of his wineskin. 

“Don’t worry,” said Sebastian.  “The Vorleraths only show up if you break your oath.”

“I didn’t say I was worried,” said Kham.  “I just don’t like being bound to oaths.”

“On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t say anything,” added Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 6 – A Truth of Purity?*

Night fell and the streets were filled with masked and costumed revelers celebrating the Burning Man festival in every way imaginable. A most unusual and unfamiliar sound echoed from every corner and alleyway. It was the sound of laughter and merriment on the city streets of Nishanpur.

Returning with the Sarishan to the Ebon Steed, they found the common room is mostly empty. Caius and the others were settled near the fireplace, discussing matters quietly among themselves. When the Nutesh entered, Baecinia nodded her head and rose, ushering everyone into a private dining room, away from even the few people in the common areas of the inn.

“Good, now we can begin.” Baecinia turned to Sebastian. “Would you do us the honor of shutting the door and making sure we are not disturbed? Listen to our telling, as well, for once this is done, and our record is safe in Sarishan vaults, we would ask you to help us spread this far and wide.”

She turned to Nutesh: “Please witness and record all that is said here. I can assure the honesty of all here, but to lend extra weight to our statements, I would like to use the candle.” Nutesh handed her the large white candle. “By means of this Taper of Truth, let there be no question that all we say is spoken in pure honesty.”

Nutesh readied his quills and parchment and nodded. “Vhen all is done, your testimonies vill be sealed in blood. So it is done, in Sarish’s name. Proceed.”

“I shall begin,” stated Baecinia, “for this tale begins with me and mine. I hereby attest that I am Baecinia val’Virdan, of Erduk. I am the widow of Marcus Octavian val’Virdan, former Autocrat of the Swords of Nier. Ten years ago, before the return of the Sword of the Heavens, we lived in Erduk.

“My husband was not liked by the head of the Sisters of Nier, who was and is Basuhe val’Virdan. He did not allow her the free reign she preferred in her endeavors. Therefore, when a young cleric named Quintus Attulus val’Virdan began rising through the ranks, she took notice.”

Ilmarė inhaled sharply.  To hear about a young cleric named Quintus hit a little too close to home.

“She took a personal interest in his activities, as the records of the Sisterhood in Erduk can confirm, since a vision that he was ‘blessed by Nier’ came forth about that time. She groomed him, indirectly, for advancement, bringing him ever closer to herself in both viewpoint and proximity to power.

“At first we took little notice, but we became more concerned as time went by. It became clear that the Sisters heavily influenced Quintus Attus, but many of my husband’s lesser advisors did not see a problem with that. Our culture is one ruled by strength, and my husband was older than I...When his hair began to gray, many among the Swords began to look among themselves for the one who would challenge and defeat him for the leadership of our people; it is our way.

“In time, our situation became more dangerous. Eight years ago, Basuhe herself prophesied that the Sword of the Heavens would return when Quintus Attulus became Autocrat. They had solidified their power block, and were preparing to challenge my husband.

“Under normal circumstances, this would not have been unjust; it is the law of our people that the strong should lead. Although many thought otherwise, it was not at all a foregone conclusion that Quintus would defeat my husband in single combat. My husband was a veteran of many battles, and was far from weak. Quintus was yet young and inexperienced. The others can confirm this.”

There was a scattering of head nods throughout the room.

“When the challenge came, my husband was expecting it, and ready. He was not afraid...We have a saying about old swordsmen: they get to be old swordsmen by being good swordsmen.

“As was traditional, we joined Quintus and his patron Basuhe for dinner in the home of a neutral third party, the night before the challenge. This is done so that the two combatants can evaluate each other, and bloodshed can be avoided if one can be convinced to concede. There is no sense in spilling blood when the outcome is obvious.

“But my husband, as I said, was far from weak, and Quintus was too arrogant, or perhaps too sure of the knowledge of what was to come, to even consider backing down…

“As was traditional, they drank from the same glass, and ate of the same meat, in order that no poison could be suspected. After the meal, we retired home. By morning, my husband felt uneasy, and perhaps a bit unwell. We did not think of poison then, but thought it only nerves. He proceeded to prepare himself for the challenge, and we went forth to the center of the city, where such things are done.”

“Again in keeping with tradition, they fought without armor and with identical weapons. All of the equipment was inspected by a neutral party to assure that there could be no foul play. They squared off, and began to fight…” Baecinia seemed disturbed at the memory.

“It didn’t last long. As the fight progressed, my husband’s breathing began to be labored, and he began to tire, much too quickly, as I knew quite well from observing his daily practices! He still fought well despite this, and both opponents were wounded several times, though not mortally, to be certain. But then, he staggered, and seemed to be in great pain. Quintus closed in and ended the match swiftly, decisively, in that moment.

“After my husband’s death, his body was turned over to me to be prepared for his state funeral the following dawn. As I washed and prepared the corpse, I examined him closely. The priest who was responsible for preparing the funeral pyre inspected the body as well, and we agreed that something was not right.”

Baecinia indicated Jurbe with a nod.

The Nierite acknowledged her. “What she says is true. None of the wounds, by themselves, would have been immediately fatal to him, not even the final blow. His tongue was blackened and swollen. I am certain that he was poisoned, though by what and how I know not, as the food and drink were checked over magically beforehand, and the body did not have the emanations of poison, which I am able to sense, with Nier’s blessing. Everything else could be explained away as an old man’s body failing him when he asked too much of it.”

“Blackened and swollen?” asked Ilmarė. “I’ve seen this poison before. It’s called Blue Sleep.” She had a terrible thought.  “What did you do with the body?”

“His body was cremated in a state funeral the dawn after his death. There was no way to delay it. Why?”

Ilmarė opened her mouth and then closed it again.  “Nothing.  Go on.”

Baecinia resumed her story. “I knew if we could convince enough people of the truth, that my husband had been poisoned before the match, that Quintus’ accession could be nullified. A general tournament would need to be called, and that pretender could be kept from the Autocrat’s chair.

“Instead, what I found was scorn. Too many, it seemed, wanted to believe that my husband was just too old, and weak, to stand up to a challenge. Too many wanted to believe that Quintus could usher in the return of Leonydas, the Sword of the Heavens, as Basuhe had so conveniently foretold. Nevertheless, I pressed my case as best I was able.

“I found myself ostracized by the community in Erduk. Those who stood by me found their positions of prestige gone, their very safety threatened. Caius and I left Erduk. Others stayed. It mattered little; we could not continue our search for justice under those circumstances. We would have found ourselves dead in the night at the hand of Basuhe’s agents, or at least, so we believed.

“When Leonydas DID actually return, we were all stunned. We decided that any chance we might have had for justice was long gone. We went about what was left of our lives as best we could.

“But now Leonydas has disappeared, and the army of the Swords has been defeated in open battle. What better indication that Quintus does not deserve to lead our people? We have another chance now, a chance to bring the truth to light, and I wish to take it.”

The other witnesses then went on to testify. Traevus was an active member of the Sisters of Nier in those days. He recalled seeing Basuhe val’Virdan, the leader of his order, speaking privately with many of the families considered “neutral” in the days of the confrontation, including the family that hosted the final supper for the combatants. Furthermore, it was Basuhe herself who presided over that fateful, final supper, and who cast the divination that showed t the combatants consumed no poisoned food or drink that night.

Caius testified that he was the weapon master in Marcus’ household, and trained with him daily. The exertion of the brief fight should not have tired him so much. He was in better condition than the final fight showed him to be. 

“So you two aren’t really married?” asked Kham.

Caius blushed as he exchanged a look with Baecinia.  

“During our flight from Erduk and the dark times that followed, we became…close, and some years later we were married.” 

“Oh,” said Kham.

“Not to dishonor Marcus’ memory!” Caius added quickly. “Rather in a bond to preserve it and ensure that the truth would be revealed some day.”

Kham was unconvinced. “Sure, whatever.”

Angven testified that she heard the last words of Quintus that day, as he left the field of conflict. 

“Quintus was quite pleased,” said the dwarf.  She looked very different without a layer of soot covering her.  Her hair was up and rubies glittered from her ears. “He muttered: All as was foretold to me.”

“You realize all this is just circumstantial evidence.  Even with this,” Ilmarė gestured at the candle, “…magic candle of yours, there is no conclusive proof.”

Baecinia glared at her, but she remained silent.  

“Good. It is done,” said Nutesh.

Baecinia and the others each placed a drop of blood on the completed transcription of the testimony. The Sarishan went through the Oathmaking and the parchment shimmered with purple light for a moment. 

“Now,” Baecinia stated, “we can escort the scribe back to his home, and we can begin planning on how to release this information to the whole city!”

Sebastian nodded in approval.  “If Nishanpur is to be won back from the Nierites, it must be through a war of ideas.”

Kham looked sideways at the dark-kin.  “Let’s hope none of your ideas kills us.”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 7a – A Truth of Corruption?*

Escorting Nutesh val’Mehen back to the Silver Cage was an uneventful but stonily silent trip. Whatever Nutesh thought about the issue, he decided to keep to himself.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” said Ilmarė.  “Once her story becomes public, what course of action does she intend to pursue to try and see the matter fully investigated?”

“More importantly,” said Sebastian, “how does she stay alive long enough to find out? The Auotcrat won’t tolerate this.”

As they returned to the Ebon Steed, flames exploded out of one of the windows.

Kham drew two pistols. “Looks like someone got to Baecinia first!”

Beldin barreled forward with his axe into the doorway.  Sebastian followed behind.

“Nierites!” shouted Beldin.  “Don’t they ever give up?”

Baecinia and her companions were buried under a pile of tables.  A Nierite sorcerer, fingertips still trailing smoke, stood on top of a table in the middle of the tavern.  The dead and dying lay scattered like so much kindling all around him.  Behind the sorcerer, with their backs to the door, were five Swords of Nier. 

“Heretics!” The sorcerer whirled.  “You!” he pointed at Kham.  “I’ll bring your smoking corpse to the Autocrat myself! Radius Incensio!”

A stream of flames spiraled from the sorcerer’s outstretched finger.  He was aiming, not at Kham’s chest, but at his pistols.  The explosion would blow both of his hands off…

Someone slammed him aside.  Kham rolled to his feet, only to see Ilmarė take the brunt of the attack.  The flames blew her backwards into the wall.  She fell down, unconscious.

Kham turned to help the elorii but hesitated. 

“Go!” shouted Sebastian.  “I’ll cover you!”  The dark-kin sorcerer pointed at the Nierites.  “Incendiaries globus!”

The ensuing explosion forced the Nierites to dive to the sides.  

Kham holstered his pistols and pulled a healing potion from his overcoat. He poured it down Ilmarė’s throat.  Her eyes fluttered open.

“Shh.” Kham put another potion in her hand.  “Apology accepted.”  The val’s expression turned deadly serious as he drew his pistols again. 

Beldin slammed into one of the Nierites, but the Sword of Nier blocked it with his greatsword.  It was the first time Beldin had faced a serious challenge from a human foe.  

“Fool,” shouted one of the Swords of Nier.  “Suffer Nier’s fiery wrath!” Flames blasted from the greatsword, nearly singing Sebastian.  

“A Nierite priest!” shouted Sebastian.  “They dress just like the Swords!”

“On him!” shouted Kham.  He fired from each pistol.  One Sword of Nier’s head bucked backwards, blood spouting out of his helmet.

Another Sword of Nier slashed downwards, nearly cutting Kham in twain.  He fell backwards.  

Kham rapped one knuckle on the breastplate he wore beneath his overcoat. “Good thing I have ole Daemonscar here.” Kham holstered the pistols and hopped to his feet in one smooth motion.  

The Sword of Nier grinned beneath his helmet.  “Come, heretic.  I want you to die with your weapons in your hands.”

Kham drew Talon and Coomb’s dagger. “My turn.”

Beldin barely managed to knock aside a greatsword blow with his shield.  It left his arm numb.  He hacked downwards at the man’s leg, dropping the Nierite in mid-swing. 

Another Nierite struck again, this time wrenching the shield out of his grip.

“Take out the dwarf!” shouted the sorcerer. “The rest will fall without him!”

Something cold and unyielding slid itself through Beldin’s ribs. He gritted his teeth.  “It’ll take more than that…” he gasped, yanking himself forward, “to stop…a dwarf!”  Beldin hacked the defenseless Nierite nearly in two, greatsword still jutting from his back.

There was a strange beat that made them all pause.  It was someone stomping one foot.  The voice that accompanied the beat demanded attention.

Ilmarė was singing.  Gone was the beautiful voice that had encouraged them to fight for her, kill for her, die for her.  It was replaced by something guttural and angry and ugly.  

It was a war chant.

“_Im no mûl an hîr alcuinar!_” screamed Ilmarė.  She was no slave to any god.

Kham was hard pressed to stop the Nierite.  He had to use both Talon and his dagger to catch any blow the greatsword might land, putting him on the defensive.  

“Sebastian, do something!” he shouted over his shoulder.  “I can’t keep this up forever!”

“I’m trying,” Sebastian yelled back.  He ducked a greatsword swing as the Nierite priest closed the gap between them.  “But I’m a little busy!”

“I will finish this,” snarled the sorcerer.  He raised his hands to cast another spell. “Incendiares—“

Two arrows sprouted out of the sorcerer’s open palms.  He opened his mouth to scream, but another arrow shaft pierced the back of his mouth.

“_Im no mûl an ardhon almeleth!_” screamed Ilmarė.  She was no slave to an uncaring world.

The Nierite amulet pulsed at her throat. 

A Nierite lifted his greatsword over Beldin’s head.  The dwarf just looked up; he couldn’t possibly get out of the way, not with a greatsword piercing his chest.

“_Maeth_,” screamed Ilmarė.  Fight!

The Nierite’s aim was ruined when an arrow shivered out of his arm. Beldin took the opportunity to cut the man’s legs out from beneath him.

The Nierite priest knocked Sebastian to the ground with a wide swing.  The priest lifted his greatsword over his head.  

“_Maeth!_”

An arrow speared both of the priest’s wrists, pinning them together.  He dropped the greatsword, staring at his wrists in disbelief.

Sebastian raised one palm and flames blasted into the Nierite at point-blank range.  His melting corpse fell to its knees.

Kham found an opening in the last Nierite’s defenses and plunged both blades into the man’s chest.  He withdrew them, waiting for the inevitable death rattle.

The Nierite kept coming. He wound up for another swing with his greatsword…

”_MAETH!_”

An arrow protruded from the Nierite’s eye socket.  He fell backwards without a sound.

Finally, the killing stopped.  Only the crackling of the flames and the moans of the wounded could be heard.

”Althares!” Kham exclaimed as he took in the carnage.  “She never stopped…”

Arrows jutted from every Nierite.  They looked like pincushions, their bodies almost impossible to recognize.  Arrows sprouted from every limb, in men that were most certainly dead already. 

Finally, the amulet at Ilmarė’s throat stopped pulsing.  The elf dropped her bow to the ground and held her face in her hands.

Sebastian turned towards her but Beldin, wincing in pain, stopped him.  “Let’s help the ones with wounds we can heal,” he said. Then he yanked the greatsword out of his abdomen.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 7b – A Truth of Corruption?*

“Your timing is certainly impeccable,” Baecinia said after the conflict was over. “I know I haven’t seen the last of them...but it is no matter. Tell me: did Nutesh val’Mehen make it back to the Silver Cage?”

“He did,” said Sebastian grimly. 

“Good. Thanks to you, and our mutual friends, we have shelter and a safe way to escape the city. The message will come out, and in a way that no one will miss it.”

“Yeah, a real win for everybody,” said Kham.  “I’m not going to miss this place.”

“Nor I,” said Sebastian.  “I only hope what we’ve done here is enough.”

“You have my sincerest thanks. I’m sure we will meet again, and I hope that I will be able to aid you even half as much as you have aided me.”

With that final parting comment, she and her conspirators made their way down the street, disappearing into the throngs of evening travelers in Nishanpur.

“Can we go now?” asked Kham.

“Helac will find us safe passage out,” said Sebastian.  “There’s just one last person we need to pick up.”


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Part 8 – And Justice for All*

In an occurrence nearly unheard of elsewhere, Vlad was hauled off to the gaol in the Menagerie of the Red Fist. His gear was stripped from him, and in a matter of hours he found himself in a Court of the City, in the Temple Quarter. Nearly a week went by, with only a sullen guard who slipped him moldy bread and dirty water to speak to.

Finally, a Nierite clerk appeared. 

“Do you wish a legal advisor?” asked the bored-looking Nierite clerk.

“How much?”

“A mere 100 Baht an hour,” said the clerk.

Vlad blinked.  “I’m not sure if I have that much…”

Another clerk handed the first clerk a note.  He read it, looked up at Vlad, and back at the note.  “Not to worry.  A defense counsel has been assigned to you.”  He left.

Not one but four Sarishan barristers appeared soon after.

“Do I really need all of you?” asked Vlad in disbelief.

“You need all the help you can get,” said clerk number one.  “We have crafted a statement for you.  You will be required to swear on Sarish to the truth; failure means the Vorlerath.”  

Vlad swallowed hard.

“Don’t worry,” said the second clerk. “You must only tell the literal truth.  And the literal truth can mean many things.  For example, you did hit a Nierite soldier, that’s true.  But if the Nierite was threatening you, that’s something else.”

The third clerk handed him the note.  “Now memorize it.”

Vlad looked over at the fourth clerk. “And what are you here for?”

“Me?” the clerk smiled.  “I am dedicated to ‘speaking’ to the judge on your behalf.” 

Once he had memorized his defense, they left him.  Shortly afterward, Vlad was brought in chains before a judge.

A Red Fist soldier, along with several civilian witnesses, stood opposite him. Then the judge walked in, and the rest of the court was seated. 

Guards kept Vlad standing throughout the proceedings. He was asked to swear his oath by Sarish…

His Oath was witnessed, as were those of the opposing Swords of Nier. The Red Fist and witnesses then left the court. No questions were permitted. 

The Erdukeen judge then carefully considered…and reached a verdict.


----------



## talien

*Purity and Corruption: Conclusion*

For the remainder of that night and the two nights following the confrontation, the Festival of the Burning Man descended on the city. The night of the festival, amid the parties, fireworks, and debauchery, a strange thing occurred.

Vlad laughed as he read the tale of Baecinia’s testimony, written on the back of a “Free Vlad!” poster.  “So they really made that much of a fuss over me?”

“Indeed, you became a symbol of Nierite oppression,” said Sebastian with a smirk as they descended through the grimy sewers beneath Nishanpur.  “Being a Milandisian made you quite a flash point of controversy.” 

Kham clapped Vlad on the back.  “And it got the heat off of me for once.”

“Yeah,” Vlad muttered.  “Thanks for getting me in trouble in the first place.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kham grinned.  “Thank Sebastian!  He paid for all those high priced barristers.”

Sebastian chuckled.  “You can repay me when you’re back on you’re feet.”

“I didn’t lose anything!” Vlad was beaming.  “They even gave me all my equipment back.  I still can’t believe it!”

Beldin shook his head in disbelief.  “Baecinia’s testimony was so perfectly copied word-for-word that the Sarishan scribes had to be involved. I wonder how much she HAD really paid them for the service.”

“It was worth it,” said Sebastian.  “Anything that reveals the corruption of the occup…” he swayed a bit, “…occupation…”

Sebastian fell forward.  Vlad caught him.  

When Sebastian’s hood fell back, they could see that his face was covered in splotches.

Beldin bit his lip.  “Sebastian’s been covering up his illness.  He didn’t want you to know how bad it was.”

Ilmarė sloshed through the muck to stare down at Sebastian in Vlad’s arms. 

“We can take him to Faerdlau,” she said without a hint of passion.  “There are Milandisian Sisters there that can heal him. It’s the closest friendly town. But we must hurry.”

She walked off into the darkness.

Vlad hoisted Sebastian over one shoulder as he got to his feet.  “Since when does Ilmarė recommend human priests?”

“She’s just got a new appreciation for her friends.”  Beldin looked sadly at Sebastian.  “Old and new.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 42: I Know Thee, Brother - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis adventure, “I Know Thee, Brother” by Eric Wiener, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Sebastian’s had the plague for a while now.  It wasn’t intentional; I had no idea if George was going to show up to the game in which the Sorcerer-King’s agent was trying to get revenge.  But it just so happened that not only did the Commandant blow himself up, he spread the disease too.

When I discovered that this adventure involved curing a disease, it was a perfect fit for when George couldn’t make a game.  It also involved some interesting role-playing opportunities.  

I had to dance a bit here: the explanation for why a human has psychic powers is pretty weak (the little rat idol made him do it, basically) and the ratmen (changed to wererats here) didn’t have much motivation.  So I played fast and loose and rewrote a lot.  

Except for Skiz.  I’m a fan of the book Jhereg by Steven Brust; I’m sure you’ll see the similarities.  

Seriously, what red-blooded DM can pass up a talking rat cohort?


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Prologue*

"Well, at least it ain't Nishanpur," said Kham.

The City of Fraedlau, in the shadow of Faerdwalden, was not the place of healing and succor they had hoped.  What was meant to be a sanctuary became a prison, as Duke Victor of Tralia ordered the city sealed to prevent the spread of the plague beyond its gates.

"I don't understand." Beldin pressed a damp cloth against Sebastian's forehead. "I thought the disease only affected sorcerers." The dark-kin had become deliriously feverish. 

"That wouldn't be very effective now would it?" Ilmare's eyes scanned the room.  “But the Sorcerer-King wants more sorcerers.  Sending the disease to destroy them alone would be counterproductive.  He must have created a strain that spreads from sorcerers to humans…” she sniffed. “And their ilk.”

The humans had changed from filthy, disgusting creatures to an angry mob of filthy, disgusting creatures.  Cries of misery and death were everywhere. 

The only lodging that remained within the city was the common room of an inn at the North Gate.  Ilmare kept her back to one wall and arms at her sides; she didn’t trust humans in large numbers.

Kham sat by himself on a bar stool nearby; Vlad sat a seat over.  The room was huddled with rough men of all stripes.

“I heard that sorcerers who get the plague explode,” said Hayden, a tanner.  He was unremarkable except for one blue eye and one brown eye.  

Hayden turned around to stare suspiciously at Sebastian’s unconscious body. “He ain’t a sorcerer, is he?”

Beldin met his gaze.  “No,” he said firmly.

Paxton, a cooper who sat to Kham’s right, sneered.  “Dark-kin probably got it from Canceri.  They’ve been hurting since we beat them in the war.”

Vlad took a deep breath.  He knew this was coming.  After the Nierites had taken over Cancer, they marched on Milandir, only to be ferociously repelled.  “We’ve been looking for healers. That’s why we came here.”

Bruno, a smith who sat to Vlad’s left, chuckled.  “Word has it that the only servants of Beltine left anywhere near the city are the Sisters of our Lady’s Mercy.  But their convent is in Faerdwalden.  Not that you could get to it anyway.”

“The Duke trapped us in here so he could burn the city to the ground,” sneered Hayden, who sat between Vlad and Kham.  He wore colored lenses, like Kham. “Just like in Brechau.”

Vlad arched an eyebrow and whirled on the man.  “That’s ridiculous. Where did you hear that?”

Hayden hopped off from his bar stool.  “Even know, Knights from Grozny Castle are marching to seal the city so that the Duke’s sentence can be carried out!”

“No wait a minute…” began Vlad.

“That’s right,” muttered Ilmare.  “Next thing you know they’ll be storming the gates.”

“Yeah!” shouted Hayden.  “I’m not going to let them just murder us and I’m not alone!”  He whirled, sloshing a mug of watered-down mead.  His arm was spotted with seeping buboes, a sure sign that Hayden was doomed like the rest.  “Who’s with me?”

Raucous shouts joined Hayden’s.  Men grabbed chairs and mugs, charging out into the street.  Only too sick to move were left behind.

Ilmare shrugged as her companions fixed her with a stare. “What?”

“Next time you’re going to be sarcastic,” growled Beldin, “you might not want to do it in a crowded room.”

“You might want to be more concerned about the tanner,” said Ilmare. “His lenses slid off his nose for moment when he was shouting. Did you see his eyes?”

Kham shook his head.  “No.  Why?”

“He didn’t have any pupils.” 

Kham hopped off his bar stool and drew his pistols.  After checking to see that both were loaded, he left without another word.

“And that’s important because…” asked Vlad.

“Do you really want anyone to be like Kham?”

She didn’t have to say any more. Vlad drew his sword as he slid off the bar stool.  “I’ll go get him.”

It wasn’t clear if he meant Kham or Hayden.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 1a – Rumblings of Insurrection*

There was a great commotion outside.  A large body of well-armed men shouted to the knights to open the city and let them out.  The angry mob had gone home, trading clubs and fists for the trademark arms and armor of Milandisian cantons: halberds and leather. 

Several of the men were obviously infected with the plague.  Facing them was a hopelessly outnumbered force of the Duke’s knights led by a bright-red ss’ressen female.

“Return to your homesss!” she shouted.  “The rumorsss are falssse.  The duke isss an honorable and jussst man!”

Hayden whirled on the crowd.  “My friends, can you not see that the Duke put a lizard in charge because he would not trust a Milandisian to slaughter his own countrymen?”

The young ss’ressen knight seemed taken aback, as if that was the last thing she would have expected to hear. 

“I don’t see YOU with any signs of the plague!” shouted Hayden, extending a long, pockmarked arm.  “Doesn’t affect you, does it?”

The ss’ressen took a step back.  She knew words wouldn’t help.

Vlad closed his eyes for a moment and let out his breath with a deep sigh. “People are going to get seriously hurt.  We have to do something.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Kham shoved his way through the crowd towards Hayden.  “Hey, you!  Yeah I’m talking to you!”

Hayden faced him down as he approached.  “You know, you don’t seem to have the plague either!”

“Calm down.” Kham kept his hands at his sides, but pistols were in his hands.  “Vlad, say something that makes you sound important.”

Vlad cleared his throat.  “I am Vlad Martell, Bailiff of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen, and I demand you stand down!”

The crowd roared its disapproval.  Hayden jeered.  “Let us out!” he began shouting.  The crowd took up his chant.

Kham put a pistol to Hayden’s head and fired.

There was a blur of movement.  Hayden moved, impossibly fast, anticipating the attack before Kham had even formulated it.  It was an impulsive action, as all things were, but it was also a test of Hayden’s abilities.

For a split second everyone froze, horrified at what they had just witnessed.  In the crowd’s eyes, the authorities had just fired the first shot.

The gesture was so violent that Hayden’s lenses fell from his face. Kham got a good look at him.  The tanner’s pupils were pure white…just like Kham’s.

“Son of a—” was all Kham got out before the angry mob surged towards the gate.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 1b – Rumblings of Insurrection*

The disciplined Knights of Tralia stepped in to deal with the disorganized canton.  Halberds came crashing down on shields emblazoned with the white and red shields of the knights.  

Kham drew Talon and Coombs’ dagger.  Hayden hefted a Tralian hammer.  

“Think you can just shoot me and be done with it?” snarled Hayden.  “I’m not going to die like a dog in the street; if you want to put me down, you’ll have to do it with your own two hands!”

With both hands, Hayden swung the hammer in an arc over his head.  Kham blocked it with scimitar and dagger but the blow rattled his teeth.  His lenses fell from his nose, revealing the whites of the val’s eyes.

“Fine, you want to play like a val?” Kham skipped backwards at another swing.  “Let’s play.”

Kham focused.  A deep thrumming radiated from him and the world went white.  He could see shapes moving in blurred, stuttering steps, perceiving where they were going before they got there.  But this time there was something different.

Hayden looked exactly the same. He was not silhouetted in white like the others, but rather crystal clear.  He had shifted into the same form of psychic perception that Kham was still learning to use.  And he was just a normal human.

“Your mind tricks won’t work on me.”  Hayden dodged left and right, shoving the head of the hammer into Kham’s chest.  He reeled backwards in surprise, the wind knocked out of him. “I can move as fast as you can!”

To Vlad, Kham and Hayden had become a blur, moving in perfect locked step.  They slammed together and then Kham was down on the ground.

“Don’t hurt him!” shouted Vlad, struggling to stop Milandisians from killing other Milandisians.  “He’s sick!” 

When the two combatants separated, many of the Milandisian cantons moaned and collapsed.  Sores erupted on their skin. The Knights stopped struggling, staring in surprise at the formerly combative citizens.  Then a knight fell to his knees.

The tanner loomed over Kham.  He lifted the hammer overhead with scabrous arms. 

“You’re fast,” said Kham.  “But can you dodge a bullet?”

In a flash, Kham’s pistols were out.  He fired two resounding shots. 

The hammer spun out of the tanner’s hands and landed just shy of Kham’s head.  

Undeterred, Hayden laced his fingers together for another blow…

There was a resounding crack as ss’ressen tail met human jaw.  Hayden collapsed to the ground, unconscious.  Crouched, with tail still extended, was Redmantle, the fiery-red ss’ressen.

Kham hopped to his feet. “Not bad,” he said grudgingly.  “For a lizard.”

“Not bad yourssself,” the ss’ressen said with a wink.  “The Sssissstersss of Our Lady’sss Mercy have sssent word that they have the meansss to cure the plague.  We are taking the mossst ill to be healed. You ssshould come with usss.”

“Let’s get Sebastian and get out of here,” said Vlad.

Kham dusted himself off.  “You’re in an awful rush.”

Vlad didn’t say anything.  He just pulled up one sleeve of his tunic.

His arm was covered in sores.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 2a – Our Lady’s Mercy Awaits You*

They traveled northward into the dreary glade of the Faerdwalden.  Even though Illiir shone in his glory of midday, the thick canopy of the forest filled the wood with shadow.  

Vlad shook his head as he and Kham trudged along with Sebastian’s litter. “I can’t believe you shot Hayden.”

Kham peered over his shoulder. “The nut with the hammer? I didn’t shoot him.  I shot AT him.”

They were walking along with the rest of the infected caravan, carrying litters of the sick and dying. 

“There was no guarantee he would dodge the bullet.”

“I had to test his powers somehow.”  Kham shrugged.  “It seemed like the fastest way to find out at the time.”

“But he was out of his mind!” Vlad lowered his side of the litter.  

Kham put the litter down and lowered his lenses to look Vlad in the eye.  “Wow, you’re really upset about this, aren’t you?  Look, the powers of the val are not something to be given lightly.  I can barely control MY powers and I’m supposed to have them.”

“It would be just like the Sorcerer-King to twist the disease so that it gave humans val powers,” Ilmarė added.  “With the disease running rampant there would be murder in the streets.  Sort of like what we witnessed today.”

“That’s precisely why not everyone should have them,” Kham said with a sniff. 

“Well I’ll tell you what I think: I think your high and mighty val powers made things WORSE.  I saw those Milandisian cantons. I know they had the plague, but they were healthy enough to fight.  It wasn’t until YOU used YOUR powers that they fell.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Kham put the back of his hand to Vlad’s forehead.  “Got a fever?”

“Don’t touch me!” the Milandisian slapped Kham’s hand away.

“ENOUGH!” shouted Beldin.  A hand axe whistled between them.  

Past Kham and Vlad stood a man, dagger raised, over Sebastian’s prone form. Beldin’s hand axe protruded from his forehead. He fell backwards without a sound.

“While you two were bickering, one of the Milandisian zealots decided to try to put an end to the plague their own way, by trying to slit Sebastian’s throat.” Beldin pushed his way past Kham and Vlad. 

“I was a guardian of humanity long before you two were even born.” Beldin walked over to the dead man and yanked the hand axe out of his forehead.  “So here’s some advice: stop worrying about who caused the disease and start concentrating on a cure.  Because Sebastian’s in trouble.” He pointed down at the dark-kin, whose clothes were soaked with sweat.  “He’s not a Canceriman, a dark-kin, or a sorcerer.  He’s our friend, and he needs our help.  Let’s not lose sight of that.”

With a grunt, Beldin picked up the front end of the litter.  After a moment of embarrassed silence, Vlad picked up the other end and they resumed their journey.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 2b – Our Lady’s Mercy Awaits You*

They reached the Convent of the Sisters of Our Lady’s Mercy after a few hours.  The nuns immediately began to treat the sick and separated them into groups in the convent’s courtyard based upon the seriousness of their condition.

After a short while, the Abbess walked out into the courtyard in the company of a man with a shaven pate.  He wore brown robes of silk and three golden studs bound his beard.

There was a general gasp of astonishment.

“A Nerothian Canceriman, here?” Vlad said in surprise.  

The Nerothian was shown great deference and honor by the Abbess.  He walked among the ill speaking words of ritual that praised Neroth and supplicated his mercy.  As he passed the poor victims of the terrible plague, his labored breath eases and several of them fell into slumber.

Beldin walked over to the Nerothian.  “We were wondering if you could cure my friend here,” he pointed at Sebastian.  The dark-kin was shivering beneath a pile of blankets.

“I vill get to as many as I can in due time,” said the Nerothian.  

“There are others who need his ministrations,” snapped Abbess Halfrid val’Ishi.  “Your friend is a sorcerer, is he not?”

Beldin looked around nervously.  “Yes…”

“Then Petru val’Mordane must attend to the other first.  The disease takes longer in those of the arcane arts.”

Petru walked off, resuming his chanting.

Beldin edged closer to the Abbess.  “I’m concerned he may…explode.”

The Abbess’ lips became a thin line.  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking.  “We will get to him as quickly as we can.  In the mean time, we will separate him from the others.”

Beldin arched a bushy eyebrow.  “For our safety or his?”

“Both,” said the Abbess with a deep sigh.  “Both.”


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 3a –Blinded by Prejudice*

Shortly after dawn, Petru began his ministrations anew.  The ill visibly improved as a result of his blessings, however heretical some thought them to be. 

Petru strode over to where Vlad, Ilmarė, and Kham sat.  “I believe I have saved de vorst cases.  Vhere is your friend?”

“Beldin’s with him in a room not far from here,” said Vlad.  “I’ll get—“

Ilmarė cocked her head.  “What’s that?”

Then they all heard it.  The sound of galloping hooves.

A small body of riders arrived at the Convent, led by a formidable looking knight of advanced years.  He clucked his horse right into the courtyard.  Redmantle followed behind.

The Abbess bowed to the knight.  “Mighty General, how may we simple adherents of Beltine assist thee?”

General Oderic val’Tensen was accoutered in shining blue full plate.  His magnificent warhorse was dressed in barding to match.  A lance was in one arm a shield in the other. He was flanked by two other knights on horseback, similarly armed and armored in much less impressive fashion.

Oderic slapped his visor open. “Abbess Halfrid val’Ishi, explain yourself!” he demanded.  “How could you bring this,” Oderic swung his lance to point at Petru, “our greatest enemy, into our midst? It is clearly he who has inflicted this great harm upon us!”

Ilmarė sighed.  “Not this again.” She turned to Vlad.  “You may want to leave Sebastian where he is for the moment.”

The Abbess put herself between Petru and Oderic’s lance.  

Vlad walked over to them.  “Now wait just a minute!”

The knight swung his lance to point at Vlad.  “Who are you?”

Vlad drew himself up to his full height.  “I am Vlad Martell, Bailiff of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.  This man you’re accusing of being a heretic has been healing the sick.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“A ruse,” snarled Oderic, “merely to make you complacent as he spreads the plague further.  The Canceri have been plotting revenge ever since we defeated their invading army.  Besides,” he added, “you’re infected yourself.  He’s already poisoned your mind.”

“Oh for Althares’ sake!” shouted Kham.  He stood beside Vlad.  “What is wrong with you people?  Look around you?  Would these women of Beltine harbor someone who caused a plague?  They’re healers!”

“And who are you?” asked Oderic.

Kham lowered his lenses.  “A val who knows better.  Look, this is no normal ailment.  It’s not like anything the priestess have seen.  Hell, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before, and I’ve seen a lot.  So why don’t we all be reasonable and put down our lances—“

“Enough talk!”  Oderic snapped his visor shut.  “The Nerothian dies now!”

And with that, he kicked his warhorse into a charge.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 3b –Blinded by Prejudice*

Kham rolled forward underneath the heavy warhorse, drawing Talon and Coombs’ dagger as he did so.  He had to move fast; if the horse came down on top of him it would crush his skull.

With lightning speed, Kham slashed the leather restraints that held the knight’s saddle in place.  He dove forward between the horse’s hind legs just as the saddle gave way.

Vlad faced down the knight to Oderic’s left side.  The knight’s lance jabbed at him, but Vlad slapped it away with his shield. He grabbed a tanglefoot bag form his belt pouch and hurled it at the knight’s horse.  It exploded in a sticky mass, bonding the horse’s hooves to the ground. 

Ilmarė stood defiant before the other knight.  She pointed at the warrior’s horse and said: _Îdh_. It fell to the ground, unconscious, pinning the knight beneath it.

Oderic slid forward off his horse and landed on his feet.  “Fool!” Oderic drew his blade.  It glowed with a golden light, singing a heavenly chorus as it was unsheathed.  “I have no time for your tricks.”  

“The Sword of Saint Lambertus,” whispered Vlad in awe.

Kham spun, but the warhorse was between him and the knight.  He ducked just as the well-trained horse kicked backwards, nearly decapitating him.

Oderic charged forward, straight towards Petru…

There was a horrible shriek.  Everyone froze and turned to look.

The Abbess and Oderic clutched each other.  From her chest protruded Oderic’s sword.

Grasping the mighty blade with her last measure of strength, the Abbess looked heavenward in supplication, tears welling up in her eyes.  Two tears rolled from her face to land upon the blade.  A final whisper escaped her lips.

“Forgive him, for he is blind.”

And with that, she was gone.

A mournful, nearly human moan came from the Sword of Saint Lambertus that still impaled the body of the gentle Abbess.  With a violent lurch, the blade flew from Oderic’s grasp as if to escape his tainted grip, shattering as it fell upon the marble floor.  The golden glow disappeared; the heavenly chorus heard no more.

With a sorrowful cry, Oderic fell to his knees as the impact of his heinous deed hit him with full force.  

One of Milandir’s greatest knights was reduced to a weeping, broken old man.  

“Arressst him,” said Redmantle to the two knights.  “He will face the Duke’sss jussstice.”

The two knights left their mounts and guided Oderic away. 

Petru knelt down next to the Abbess, his own face a mask of pain.  His hands were drenched with the Abbess’ blood.  He wound was too deep to stop the pool of red from spreading. 

“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered.  “I used my most powerful supplications, but Neroth isn’t listening…” he looked heavenwards. 

Vlad put one hand on Petru’s shoulder.  “The living need your help now,” he said softly.  “The nuns will take care of their own.”

Petru shook his head. Rising slowly to his feet, he left the courtyard.  No one else was healed that day.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 4a – I Smell a Rat*

Another day passed and Sebastian’s illness worsened. As the day advanced, more victims of the plague were brought into the courtyard from the city.  They were some of the worst cases, born in on stretches covered with blood-soaked sheets.

“At the rate these bodies come in, he’ll never heal Sebastian!” Ilmarė said, exasperated.  

“Psst!” a squeaky voice whispered to Kham. 

Kham looked around.  

“Down here!”

Kham looked down. A large brown rat, sitting on its hind legs, was tugging on his boot.

“Great,” said the val. “Now I can hear what animals are thinking.”  He rubbed his temples.  “I love being a val!”

“No boss, I’m actually speaking Low Coryan,” said the rat. “Learned it from Gakyi.  But that’s not important now.  What’s important is that you’re about to be ambushed.”

“An ambush?” Kham looked down at the rat in disbelief.  “You expect me to believe a talking rodent?”

As Petru began to minister to the sick, a half-dozen sheets were tossed aside to reveal feral ratmen, armed with wicked swords.  

“Told you,” said the rat.

The half-human, half-rat men lunged at the nuns and Petru.  

This time, the Nerothian was prepared.  He whispered a prayer and the rats struggled to focus on him, finally ignoring him completely in favor of the nuns.

The largest of them screeched in frustration.  Then it turned to face Vlad.

The rat-man had one blue eye and one brown eye.

There was a humming sound as the ratman’s sword began to bubble and hiss.  Something foul dripped from the blade.

“Vlad, look out!” shouted Kham.

The Milandisian dance backwards as the sizzling blade slashed his studded leather armor.  

“Kham!” shouted Vlad.  “I think this is Hayden!”

“Great,” Kham snapped back.  “I’ll try not to shoot him.”

One of Ilmarė’s arrows shivered from the ratman’s shoulder.  Hayden hissed in rage.  

“Fortunately,” said the elorii, “I have no such compunctions.”

The arrow popped out and the wound healed over before Vlad’s very eyes.

“Oh, crap.”


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Part 4b – I Smell a Rat*

Something scampered up Kham’s leg.  

“The shaman, Gakyi, is invisible, boss,” squeaked the rat.  “He’s standing over there.”

“How do you know that?” asked Kham.

“You gonna keep asking questions or you gonna shoot?”

Kham shook his head in disbelief that he was listening to a rat.  He drew both of his pistols and fired where the rat pointed with one tiny claw.

With a curse, Gakyi shimmered into view.  A bronze amulet in the form of a menacing rat hung from around his neck.

Gakyi screeched at Kham, saliva dripping from its jaws, and pointed one long talon at him.  Kham leg’s suddenly froze up on him.

“Oh great,” said the rat on Kham’s shoulder.  “He cursed you. I’ll go get help.”

“Uh, thanks…?”

“Skiz,” said the rat, scampering down Kham’s shoulder.  “Hang tight boss, I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think I can go anywhere,” said Kham.

Vlad blocked a swing from Hayden with his shield and spun with his sword, slashing the chest of an adjacent ratman wide open.  The wound closed up as soon as his blade left the wound.

Ilmarė fired arrow after arrow at the ratmen.  They would drop, shrieking in pain, only to rise back up again as eyeballs, throats, and chests healed. “Our weapons are useless!” she shouted to no one in particular.

Petru hurried over.  Skiz was on his shoulder.   “I brought help!”

“That’s great.  Hey Petru, mind joining in the fight?”

“If I retaliate, Neroth’s blessing vill be revoked,” said the Nerothian.  “But I can help you.” He put one hand on Kham’s forehead.  His legs unfroze.  “Dere.”

“Great,” said Kham, “now if you can just tell us how to kill these things.”

Skiz hopped the distance between Petru’s shoulder and Kham’s.  He was a nimble little beast. “Got a silver weapon, boss?” 

Kham slapped his forehead.  “I KNEW I shouldn’t have sold that dagger!” He turned to Vlad.  “Vlad!  Use your dagger!”

Vlad was hard pressed to keep Hayden and two other ratmen at bay.  He ferociously counterattacked with a wide swing that force all three of them backwards, then dropped his shield and drew the dagger the senator had given them so long ago.

Before Hayden could recover, Vlad slammed the dagger into the ratman’s face. With a shriek, Hayden collapsed, transforming back into the tanner’s original human form.

Kham rummaged around in the sack that had served to hold his armor and weapons when he was in the Canceri prison.  “Now I just need two more pistols…”

“I’ll get ‘em boss!” shouted Skiz.  The rat dove into the bag and disappeared.

Kham had to abandon his quest as Gakyi, spittle flecking his snout, roared into hand-to-hand combat with a longsword.  Kham blocked it with Talon.  

Vlad plunged his sword through another ratman, buying him enough time to yank the dagger out of Hayden’s head.  The rat man kept coming, gnashing and spitting.  Vlad speared the rat through the forehead head with the dagger.  With a long, piteous squeal, it expired.

Ilmarė danced backwards as two rat men advanced on her.  The arrows were slowly being pushed out of their bodies as the wounds healed.  

“I am really getting tired of this.” She drew her elven thinblade.  

Kham blocked Gakyi’s frenzied swing with Talon.  “How you doing in there Skiz?”

“Almost…got it…” came a muffled voice from somewhere inside the bag.   “Here!”

Kham slashed low and high, forcing Gakyi backwards.  He resheathed his blades.  “Now!”

The rat dragged a pistol belt out of the sack.  Kham drew the two pistols, whirled, and fired at the ratmen advancing on Ilmarė.  The dropped, twitching.  

“They’ll get back up in a second, boss” said Skiz.

“Yeah, I know,” Kham drew his blades again as Gakyi closed the gap between them.  “I’m just buying us time.”

“Time for what?” asked Skiz.

Vlad slit the throats of both of the prone ratmen before they could recover.  He glared up at Gakyi with a murderous look in his eyes.

Gakyi hissed.  Then the shaman threw something to the ground and smoke enveloped him.

A silvery blade whistled through the air and into the darkness.  When the smoke cleared, the human that was once Gakyi lay face first on the ground, a silver dagger protruding from the back of his head. 

“That,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*I Know Thee Brother: Conclusion*

Admonishments to the val of the city prevented the further spread of the disease.  Petru was able to cure those already infected, including Sebastian and Vlad.  

“De dark-kin vil be veak for veeks,” said Petru. 

“What?” asked Kham.

“He vill be sick for some time,” said the Nerothian. “But I expect a full recovery.”

“I’ll stay with him until he can travel,” said Beldin gruffly.  “There’s a forge here.  I’ve been meaning to put that Ignium we picked up from Nishanpur to good use.”

“We should keep moving,” said Vlad.  “I’d like to report back into the Duke as to what happened here.  It’s important he’s aware, in case the plague spreads.”

“What I really want to know is how the hell I picked up a talking rat out of all this,” Kham said with a wry smirk.

Skiz, sitting on the val’s shoulder, twitched his whiskers at Kham’s face. 

“I don’t know why you carry that disgusting thing around with you,” said Ilmarė.  “The wererats should be proof enough that vermin are filthy beasts.”

“Those were humans once,” said Vlad.

Ilmarė crossed her arms. “You didn’t seem to have a problem killing your countrymen once they took on another form.” 

Vlad bit his lip. He said nothing further.

“Hey, leave him alone,” said Kham.  “He did what he had to.  They left him no choice.”

“Gakyi found that tiny bronze idol,” said Skiz, pointing one claw at the idol in Kham’s palm.  “He said it spoke to him in dreams, dreams that promised untold power if he would perform certain tasks. At first, they were trivial things: favor a mate, avoid a certain human, and so forth.  But eventually it led him into Faerdlau, with an order to kill certain humans, mostly priests of Neroth and Beltine.  That’s about when I started talking.”

Kham peered at the idol.  It was the Yellow Sign. “So you weren’t always like this?” 

“No, boss.  How about you?”

Kham peered over his lenses at Skiz.  “Very funny.”

“I still don’t trust it,” said the elorii.  “Why would it help us?”

“I’m not deaf you know,” said Skiz.  “Look, it’s simple: once I realized what my old boss had planned, I didn’t want to be part of it anymore.  So I switched to the winning side; val are leaders and protectors.  My new boss was an obvious choice.”

“You hear that?” Kham chuckled.  “He thinks I’m a winner.”

“This, coming from a rat,” sniffed Ilmarė.  

Skiz ducked his head around to look at Kham.  “I think she means you, boss.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 43: Hidden Greed - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis adventure, “Hidden Greed” by Daniel M. Perez, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

While the previous adventure wrapped up the Ymandrake plague, there’s still other world events going on, not the least of which is the pending war between Ssethregore and Altheria.  This adventure served as a great reminder that the world continues to revolve even when our heroes aren’t doing anything at all.  It also provided for some good old fashioned family conflict (a theme I repeatedly abuse), as Kham must come to grips with just how much of a heartless person he wants to be.

Finally, the adventure deals with Cal’s tribe and fleshes them out a bit more.  We’ve already seen his tribe in action and drummed up some sympathy, but this adventure really pushes the envelope.  And it forced Vlad to expand his definitions of who is a “Milandisian countryman.”


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Prologue*

The verdant hills of Milandir were truly a sight to behold.  A signpost ahead noted the village of Saeber lay only a few miles up the road.  

“Considering the sun will set soon, I think Saeber’s a good place to rest,” said Vlad.

Kham and Ilmarė shrugged.  

“It’s your homeland,” said Kham.  “As long as they’re not crazy cannibals, cultists, or have the plague, I’m happy to stay there.”

The trail cut across a small valley and then went high up a hill.  

Ilmarė blinked.  “I hear the sounds of battle.”

The clash of swords soon became unmistakable.  Small explosions and hoarse yelling signaled a conflict.  Once they reached the hilltop, there was no doubt.

In the distance, scantly a mile away, a walled village was under attack.  Villages rushed to cover various areas, shooting arrows and throwing spears at a large group of reptilian soldiers.  The ss’ressen attacked on foot while a second group, mounted on drakes, rode by and drew their fire.  

“Ss’ressen?” Kham asked in disbelief.  “Here?”

Before anyone could react, the ss’ressen regrouped and rode off into the northern hills, back into their swamplands.  The village folk inside the walls cheered and rejoiced as they slowly returned to their lives.

A patrol of five Milandisians rode up the trail to greet them.  “Well met, travelers,” said one of patrolmen. “You may wish to camp at our village tonight instead of riding on past sundown.”

“What’s going on?” asked Vlad. 

“This area has been under constant attacks for the past half month and one never knows when those crafty ss’ressen might attack again.  There’s an inn in town; I’m sure you’ll be able to find lodging.”

“But I thought the ss’ressen were Milandisian allies,” protested Vlad.  “They only just recently established their colony in the Sulfurmarsh.” 

“This was a small party that attacked just now,” said the patrolman.  “They also retreated quite fast, but we must not bemoan our moment of luck.  We are riding now to scout the area and make sure it is secure.” 

The patrolman clucked at his horse and they rode off.

“I guess we have to stay at the dinky little town,” Ilmarė muttered to Kham.  “You didn’t mention anything about towns attacked by traitorous lizards.”


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 1a – The Village of Saeber*

The village of Saeber lay at the bottom of a verdant valley.  A large collection of two and three-story buildings crammed the village area, while small outlying edifices showed signs of steady expansion and growth. The village’s ten-foot high wooden walls clashed against the serene greenery.  Village folk milled all around, patching holes and filling ditches left by explosions.

“Explosions?” Kham looked around.  “They’re using blackpowder?”

The village showed signs of tumult.  People in the streets rushed by in throngs, headed to the village square. 

The square was a mess of people yelling and screaming at everyone and everything.  Three middle-aged men stood on a makeshift podium. 

After they spoke for a few moments, the three leaders of Saeber identified themselves.  There was Drafnah, who had a worried look on his face; Lonnek, an older but keenly aware man; and Vanos, a stern-looking fellow with a strong voice.

“Everyone,” he shouted.  “Please, be silent, we are awaiting the reports!” After a few loud bangs of a mallet, the village folk fell into silence.

Runners arrived with various scrolls, which Lonnek read quickly.

“There are no casualties and, as before, Saeber has suffered no significant damage!”  Lonnek looked around.  “I urge you to all go back to your homes and remain calm.”

He was greeted by shouts of, “No way!” and “We’re not going to just sit here and wait to be slaughtered!” 

A tall, ebony-skinned man dressed in rich clothing approached the podium brusquely.  

“We should form a strike force immediately!” he demanded in a loud voice.  “We have to attack the ss’ressen before they have a chance to destroy our homes!  You have been delaying the inevitable while we risk our lives every day that passes!”

Kham slapped his forehead.  “I don’t believe it.”

“Is the Altherian a friend of yours?” asked Ilmarė.

“You could say that. That’s Pallas.”

“Who are you tell us what to do?” Lonnek asked the Altherian, irritated. 

“My people have been dealing with these monsters for generations,” said Pallas. “The only language they understand is brute force!”

“Reinforcements are on their way,” replied Lonnek.  He looked as if he had dealt with Pallas before.  “They should be here in a few days’ time.”

They argued back and forth some more.

“The ss’ressen are ruthless!” He caught Kham’s eye.  “And here is my cousin, Kham val’Abebi, the foremost authority on the lizard threat.  Kham, tell them how dangerous they are?”

Kham blinked.  “Err…yes, they are! And your village is no match for them.”  He walked over to Pallas and grabbed him by the shoulder.  “We Altherians should have a conference and let you know the best strategy to deal with them.”

“Yes!” said Pallas.  “Excellent idea!”  He turned to face Kham. “Meet me back at my house tomorrow morning.  You can’t miss it.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Yep, they’re related.”


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 1b – The Village of Saeber*

Kham was crossing featureless frosty ground.  Aldebaran loomed ahead. It had slipped so low in the sky that it touched the horizon; one could step up to it now.  

One could step down from it too. Thousands of stars showed, but they were not the stars Kham knew.  There were others with him—friends, but they were just an escort, for it was only he that mattered.  No Emperor ever performed an action to match what he was about to do.

He saw a bright, bright light and then a tall figure.  His white and yellow robes moved in a wind Kham didn’t feel. 

Kham reached out and, awed, he saw himself take it and walk through.

Then he woke up. 

Skiz was sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, eyes glittering.  “Bad dream, boss?”

“You weren’t sitting there all night watching me, were you?”

“Nah.  You just cried out and woke me up.  You okay?”

“No,” Kham reached out for a pitcher.  Normally it would be filled with wine, but he had shifted to water when the inn was able to provide it.  “But that’s nothing new.”

“Well, I’m going to go back to sleep,” said Skiz.  The rat rolled over on the nightstand and his breathing became deep and slow.

Kham envied him. He struggled with the covers to get comfortable again.

Skiz watched him with one eye open.


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 1c – The Village of Saeber*

Walking outside the southern walls, the Milandisian countryside stretched for miles in the inky darkness of early morning.  The flickering lights of the various outlying farms provided the only signs of life.  Some three hundred feet away from the walls stood a large barn with a one-story house attached to it.  The sounds of metal beating metal came from the barn.

Kham knocked on the barn door. The sounds stopped.

A few seconds later, Pallas val’Abebi emerged.  “Kham? It’s good to see you! Your timing is impeccable.  What brings you here?”

They hugged.  “Just passing through, cousin.  This is the last place I expected to find you!”

Pallas laughed.  “Come in, come in, have some tea.  It’s difficult to get the ingredients right out here, but I have something close enough.”

The inside of the barn had been turned into a full-fledged alchemy laboratory.  Various clunky wooden tables teemed with beakers, vials, piping, books, jars with strange-colored liquids inside and more.  The air was heavy and thick with a variety of smells, not all of them pleasant. On the far wall was a large fireplace at its center point, barely lit with only a few embers.

He poured something out of a beaker that could easily have been an alchemical concoction into two mismatched cups.  “It’s not elegant,” Pallas said with a grin, “but it will do.”  He sat down on a rickety wooden bench and offered Kham a cup.  

“Thanks.” Kham joined him.  “So what are you doing so far from Altheria?”

Pallas grinned a white-toothed grin.  “I could ask you the same thing, but I suppose wanderlust comes with being the black sheep in the family. Truth be told, I’m on business.” He instantly became more serious.  “Speaking of family…I heard about Uncle Corinalous.  I’m sorry Kham, he was a good man.”

Kham took a long sip from his cup.  “We weren’t that close, to be honest.  I went into a dark place when he died.  Did you go to his…?” He trailed off.

“His funeral?  No, I missed it.  I heard that Falthar did an excellent job though on his eulogy.  Are you planning to visit soon then?  I know your mother would be pleased.”

Kham snorted.  “I don’t know that she’d even remember who I am.  But yes, I plan on making my way there.  How are things at home?”

Pallas leaned forward.  “Not well.  The Ssethregorans have stepped up their attacks.  People are talking about war.”

“Open warfare?” Kham sipped more of the tea.  It had been a long time since he had sampled Altherian tea. Not since he had tea with his father, over twenty years ago. “Have things gotten that bad?”

Pallas nodded.  “We’ve been looking for more blackpowder.  This town is close to a nearby phosphorous mine, so I was scouting it out when I heard rumors of an uprising amongst the Black Talon ss’ressen here.”

Kham nodded at the alchemical apparatus.  “I see you’re still refining it.” The telltale sent of phosphorous and sulfur, ingredients for blackpowder, filled the air.

“I was, until the ss’ressen attacked us unprovoked.  It’s a good thing I was here or they would have been slaughtered.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two weeks ago.  You know how it is, Kham.  Lizards are all the same.  You can move a lizard to a nicer neighborhood but they never change their stripes.”

Kham blinked.  “It’s strange that the ss’ressen in Sulfurmarsh would do that.  I know one of them.  They’re dumb as rocks, sure.  But they wouldn’t just attack people outright.”

“These do.  Something about a Yig uprising.  I think their vile gods have gotten them stirred up.  If they’re capable of killing Corinalous, they’re capable of anything.”

Kham shifted in his seat.  “Who told you that?”

“I heard about it,” said Pallas.  “I heard they attacked the Temple of Althares in Freeport. Then they planted a bomb, delivered it right to Corinalous.  Those bastards!”

Kham shook his head.  “You’ve got it wrong.  That was the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

Pallas laughed bitterly.  “Oh, I’ve got it right. The ssanu run that cult.”

“No, you see there are two factions of ssanu, the Sskethvai and the Hitthkai.  The Hitthkai are the more peaceful types, they worship Yig.  The Sskethvai have been co-opted to worship The King in Yellow…” he trailed off as he caught Pallas’ expression.  “Never mind.”

Pallas chuckled.  “I’m sure that’s all very interesting.  In fact, I think we should talk more about it; the more intelligence we have about the damn snakes and their lizard lapdogs, the better off we all are.  But for now, I think you need to see all this for yourself.  Stand watch with the rest of the village guards tonight.  Althares knows they could use the help.”

Kham thought for a moment.  “I think that’s a good idea.” He stood up and thanked Pallas for the tea.  

“Kill one for Corinalous,” said Pallas.

To Kham’s credit, he hesitated only for a moment before walked out the door.


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 2 – Night Attack*

They were stationed at the North Wall, along with six other militia soldiers.  It was a dark night, without moonlight.  Torches were the only means of illumination beyond the walls.  

Ilmarė scanned the horizon.  “They’re coming.”

The ss’ressen blended in so well with the darkened vegetation that it looked as if the forest had come to life.  Something whistled in the night air.

“Javelins!” shouted Vlad.  “Down!”

They ducked as javelins flashed overhead.  

The impromptu barricade shuddered from the force of ss’ressen tail and claw.  

“They’re breaking through!” Vlad slid down off the ladder.  “Get ready!”

Kham stood at the hole with two pistols out.  “So am I allowed to shoot lizards or are you going to throw a hissy fit about that too?”

Vlad didn’t have time to respond.  Eight ss’ressen burst through the hole and immediately scattered to the left and right.

“What the…” Vlad watched them go. “They’re not attacking?”

“They’re looking for something,” Ilmarė said from atop the wall.

Some of the militia swung their swords at them, but the ss’ressen easily ducked the untrained blows.  One ss’ressen crouched low, tail high in the air, and knocked a militiaman unconscious with one slap of its tail.

Vlad stepped into the path of one of the ss’ressen.  “Why are you attacking this village?”

“Give usss back our eggsss!” it hissed.  It turned to step around him.

Vlad grabbed it by the shoulders.  “Eggs?  What eggs!”

“Desssissst!” It squirmed in his grip. “We wisssh only to find our own!”

“We’re here to help! You’re Calactyte’s tribe, right?”

The ss’ressen stopped squirming.  “You know of him?”

Vlad let it go.  “Yes.  Can you take us to him?”

The ss’ressen bobbed its head.  “Follow usss.”

The village folk had organized enough to present a sizeable threat to the invading ss’ressen.  They escaped through the breach on the east wall, carrying their wounded with them.  A cheer went up from the villagers.

Kham holstered his pistols as Vlad approached.  “So now what?”

“Now, we follow them back to their village.”

Kham slapped his forehead.  “The Sulfurmarsh?  I hate that place.”

“Me too,” said Vlad.  “But it’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.”

“That,” said Ilmarė, “or it’s a trap.”

Then they disappeared into the darkness in pursuit of the fleeing ss’ressen.


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 3 – Into the Hills*

The moonless night made shadows seem larger than life along the hilltops.  The flickering torchlight of Saeber in the distance provided the only illumination visible for leagues.  North of the hills, the muggy scent of the Sulfurmarsh carried on the breeze.  The chirping of frogs and insects buzzed around them.

After trudging through unending wetland and pools of mire that threatened to swallow whole their every step, the dense mangrove forest began to slightly thin out.  In the far distance, floating, flickering lights were visible.

“That must be Calactyte’s tribe,” said Vlad.  

In between the gnarled mangrove branches, the lights revealed themselves to be torches set at regular intervals, marking the edge of a settlement of sorts.  Various pairs of ss’ressen guards stood roughly twenty feet from each other.  Behind, the obscure shapes of structures showed the camp to in fact be a village of some kind.  

Ilmarė sighed.  “Yep.  It’s a trap.”

“How do you know that?” asked Vlad.

“Because we’re surrounded.”

The swamp atmosphere turned abruptly dangerous; the constant buzz of mosquitoes died down, replaced by low rumblings and high-pitched staccato noises. 

Kham whirled, pistols out.  “That’s ss’ressen speech.”

All around them, what appeared to be the prone forms of dead logs, root clumps, or harmless alligators resting the water reveal themselves to be ambushing ss’ressen scouts.  

“We will not harm you if you sssurrender immediately,” came a guttural voice.  

“We want to speak to Calactyte,” said Vlad.  “Is he here?”

“Follow usss.”

They ended up with an escort of warriors.  

“They must have lost a lot of warriors,” said Ilmarė.  “These are youth.” The few pieces of leather armor the ss’ressn wore did little to conceal the patches of dry skin that peeled off their bodies. 

The mangrove forest opened into a large clearing in the midst of the swamp.  Dry paths crisscrossed the clearing among canals of dark water, teeming with dead leaves, plants, and pieces of wood.  Scattered around in a rough circle inside the canals were a number of huts and dwellings.  They were made of wood, dried mud covered in leaves, tall grass, and rocks pressed onto the walls.

“Looks a little different than when were here last time,” observed Vlad.

The great majority of the dwellings had been destroyed; chunks of walls and roofs were missing or fell into the water.  

“Pallas got to them,” said Kham. Black soot marks were clearly visible, even at night, pointing to extensive fire damage.

As the guards led them down the path towards a large, central stone structure, they caught glimpses inside of some of the destroyed huts.  They were amphibian in nature; small pools that lead to underwater chambers accompanied large, dry areas.  

Kham wasn’t sure if what he saw inside one of the inner house pools was a dead ss’ressen body or just floating debris.  He looked away.

As they closed on the stone building, the ss’ressen numbers became apparent.  The remains of the village had been turned into a military camp.  

Vlad scanned the area.  “Three score,” he whispered for Kham alone.  “All well-armed with javelins and sword.”

Their destination lay in the middle of the village.  It was a massive, two-story complex with no windows, built in a combination of rough-hewn and smooth dark-gray stone.  A few adornments—coiled snakes—remained in place, though many were shattered along with the stone walls they had been carved from. 

“Where was Alissstair?” asked Kham. “This was his temple.”

“Abandoned,” Ilmarė said with a mournful note in her voice, “the final death of all false gods.”

Though in better shape than the wooden dwelling, the stone structured exhibited heavy signs of damage.  Large sections of stone wall were missing all around, the bulky chunks of debris laying in heaps on the floor.  

“What force struck here?” Kham asked out loud.  “The Milandisian don’t have this much firepower, do they?”

Dark, sooty marks spoke of more fire damage. The faint smell of smoke and burnt flesh still lingered in the air. 

Vlad shook his head.  “They would have used it when the ss’ressen invaded.  Someone else did this.”

“Someone with access to a lot of blackpowder,” said Kham.

They entered the broken temple.  It was a barren area, as large as the building, filled with armed ss’ressen congregated in small groups.  An enormous red brick furnace three times a man’s width stood in the middle of the room dead, its embers gone.  

A group of five ss’ressen stood discussing in quick, sibilant growls. One of them stepped forward.

“Where’s Calactyte?” asked Vlad.

The ss’ressn was a tall and lithe soldier with green and black scales running down the side of his body, dressed in piecemeal leather armor with a pair of punching daggers hanging from his belt.  His eyes burned bright yellow, but he exhibited the ss’ressen unnatural composure. 

“He isss not here.” When the ss’ressen spoke, his snouth-like mouth barely formed the words.   “You will deal with me.” The words came out in a guttural growl. 

“Then who are you?” asked Kham.

“Shatterscale isss a crude approximation in your language.  I am commander of thisss force.”

The ss’ressen sharp reptilian features glinted in the iridescent light.  His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Vlad with suspicion.  

“We will not waste your time or energy.  You will tell usss who you are, where you come from, who ssent you, and who hasss the eggsss.  Fail to cooperate and you may well become the firssst intended casssualtiesss in thisss ssskirmisssh.”

“What happened with your eggs?” asked Vlad. 

“Do not play innocent, ape!  We know full well the cowardsss who ssstole thisss village’sss eggsss came from Sssaeber.  In ssspite of thisss act of aggression, we offered diplomacy and were lied to again and again.”

“Wait,” Kham said carefully.  “Are you saying Saeber stole the eggs?”

“To deny your robbery of the eggsss merely insssultsss ussss further,” hissed Shatterscale. 

Vlad opened his palms.  “We’re just trying to understand—“

Shatterscale’s snout came within inches of Vlad’s face, squinting furiously. “Yig’sss ire will befall you!”  His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. Vlad met his gaze unflinchingly. 

After a few seconds, Shatterscale pulled back and took a few steps away.  He called forth another ss’ressen.

“Krisharr!” said Kham, relieved to finally see a familiar face.  “Buddy!  Pal! Tell the big guy that we’re okay, will ya?”

The short ss’ressen shaman spoke to Shatterscale for a few seconds.  

Shatterscale snorted.  He turned again to address Vlad.  “Krisharr telllsss usss you may be trussstworthy.  You sssay you do not know of the stolen eggsss? We shall sssee.”

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “This guy makes Cal look cuddly.”


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 4 – The Other Side*

They were led to the back end of the building.  Shatterscale pointed to a table with a large map of the surrounding area spread upon it.  Dozens of small markers were scattered over it in various formations.  He lifted his head from contemplating the map to address Vlad.

“Yig tellsss usss that Her might will fuel the heart of the righteousss and prove the truth in all disputesss,” said Shatterscale. “Yig demandsss a Trial by Combat to prove your wordsss.” 

Ilmarė planted her fists on her hips.  “This is ridiculous.”  She turned to address the shaman.  “Tell them that we saved your disgusting mud hole last time.”

The shaman watched her coolly.  “There wasss a time when I would have gladly defended you, even a ssslave.  But timesss have changed.” 

“It’s fine, Ilmarė.”  Vlad unsheathed Grungronazharr.  

“Prepare.” Krisharr drew a circle around Vlad and Shatterscale.  “Truth will ssstrengthen your weaponsss, not magic.  Conviction will be your ally, not thossse around you or the deviousss enchantmentsss that may be cassst.  The flat of the sssword shall sssmite liesss, not pierce them with callousss edge.  Mercy will be the sssign of the victor, not bloody murder.”

Ilmarė translated: “So no spells, no stabbing, and no help.”

Vlad buckled on his shield.  “Fine, I’ll use the flat of the blade.” He made a few test swings with his sword. “Let’s do this.”

Shatterscale pulled two L-shaped sticks from his belt.  He spun them in his hands.  

“Begin!” shouted Krisharr. 

Shatterscale slid into a fighting stance as Vlad closed.  He swung his blade at Shatterscale’s head, but the ss’ressen blocked it with the longer part of both sticks. 

“Clumsssy,” hissed Shatterscale. With a twist, he slapped Grungronazharr aside and retaliated with two quick blows to Vlad’s torso.  Then he danced back. 

They parried and struck, over and over.  Vlad looked like a lumbering oaf in comparison to the lithe ss’ressen, even though they were nearly the same size.  Every time Vlad struck, Shatterscale retaliated twice.

“I fought Vrosh!” Vlad parried another of Shatterscale swipes and then connected on the ss’ressen arm with the flat of his blade.  “And I won!”

The news gave Shattesrcale pause, enough that Vlad saw an opening.  He slammed his shield into Shatterscale’s torso, pinning the ss’ressen arms as he tried to block the attack.  With an overhand swing, he brought the hilt of his sword down on the big lizard’s skull. 

Shatterscale collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Krisharr hissed.  It may have been the ss’ressen form of a smile.  “It ssseemsss you are telling the truth about your lack of involvement with the ssstolen eggsss.  We almost wisssh thisss wasss not ssso; we could get the information we need and have a chance to ssstop all madnessss before it’sss too late.”

“Madness?” asked Kham.  “Like, King in Yellow, murder-your-family madness?”

Krisharr tilted his head quizzically at Kham.  “The impending war between our people and the Milandisssiansss.  But regardless of the consssequencesss, thossse eggsss are invaluable to usss.  We will not ssstop until we have them back. Look here.”

Vlad sheathed his sword and stepped over Shatterscale to look at the map.  

“We are aware of the Milandisssian reinforcements.  We have our own on the way.  A war will ssstart sssoon and we are running out of optionsss.  We have half a day to find thossse eggsss before we are left without choice and death findsss a feassst in the bloody fieldssss.”

“We have to stop this,” Vlad said to Kham.  “Milandir can’t afford another war.”

“Nobody can afford a war,” Ilmarė said sourly. 

“About a moon cycle ago, we received word thisss village had been attacked,” said Krisharr.  “We dispatched a sssmall force to invessstigate.  Many of our people lay ssslain on the ground and in the water, burnt beyond recognition or maimed.  Warriorsss eldersss, mothersss and hatchlingsss; it wasss a massacre.  It wasss then dissscovered that all the eggsss in the hatchery had been ssstolen.”

“What happened to Cal?” asked Vlad.

“He came from Sulfurmarsh asss sssoon asss he heard, but he wasss too late. He joined the ssscouts we sssent to sssummon a greater force and to find the trackssss of the attackerssss.  They found varioussss sssetsss of trackssss from Sssaeber but were ambussshed.  Calactyte was ssseperated from the group.  He hasss not returned.”

“The villagers said you tried to negotiate,” said Kham.  “What happened?”

“We sssent variousss groupsss to talk to the humansss of Ssaeber to sssolve thisss conflict asss peacefully asss possible. Three timesss we approached under a banner of peace and three timesss were were turned away.”

Vlad put fists on his hips. “The negotiators weren’t interested in peace? That doesn’t seem like Saeber.” 

“They gave the impresssion of trying to be helpful, but never actually did anything to help sssolve the sssituation,” said Krisharr. “When I met with the negotiator persssonally, he became belligerent and offensssive.  He threatened to have the might of the entire Milandisssian army thrown against usss if we ever sssent anyone to parley again.”

Kham’s took a deep breath.  “Who did you negotiate with?”

“Pallasss val’Abebi.”

Kham kicked the dirt.  “Damn it!”


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 5a – Face Off*

When they returned to the village of Saeber, it was clear the atmosphere had changed dramatically.  The holes in the walls were patched and the smell of burning oil filled the air.  Loud clangs of hammers on anvils drowned the sounds of the night.  People flocked to and fro, carrying bundles of arrows, wood and rocks.  They pulled wagons filled with hay and water skins. Saeber was preparing for war.

Vlad looked around. "Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers."

Walking through the streets confirmed the hopelessness of the situation.  Even the women and children were helping, barricading doors and windows, collecting water and so on.  

“Most have seen too many winters!" said Kham.

"Or too few,” added Ilmarė. 

At the square, those in Saeber who had formal martial training gathered, while the leaders divided them into various groups. Lonnek stood somewhat to the side, speaking to a young boy. 

“Look at them,” Kham shook his head. “They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."

“As well they should be,” said Ilmarė. “They’re not match for a ss’ressen force.”

Lonnek handed him a rolled up scroll and they boy took off like an arrow, darting around corners and through the streets. He walked over to Vlad.

“Have you news?”

“I need to talk to Pallas,” Kham said grimly.  “I think this has all been a big misunderstanding.”

Lonnek gave Kham an incredulous look.  “Misunderstanding?  We’re on the brink of war!”

Kham took pistol after pistol out of his belt pouch, more than it could possibly hold.  “I may be able to stop it.  But that all depends.” He checked the bullets and black powder in each one.  

“On what?” asked Lonnek.

“If blood is thicker than water.”  He stalked off towards Pallas’ farmhouse with Vlad and Ilmarė in tow.


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 5b – Face Off*

Kham sat down once again in Pallas’ abode.  Once again, he was served tea in a mismatched cup.

“So, you saw it for your own eyes then?” Pallas asked eagerly. “What those damn lizards are capable of?”

“Yes,” Kham said slowly.  He hadn’t touched his tea.  “I saw them.  I spoke with them.  Pallas, if there’s something you’re not telling me, it’s not too late for me to help you.”

Pallas paused.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the ss’ressen are saying you were leading negotiations for Saeber.  They kept asking for peace and you kept rebuffing them.”

“That’s preposterous!” Pallas put down his tea.  “I expected better of you, Kham. The lizards are lying through their forked tongues and you, of all people, are buying into their deception?”

Kham shook his head.  “I didn’t say I was.  But you don’t seem too concerned about keeping the peace here.  Milandir can’t afford another war, not after the Nierite invasion from Canceri.”

“You don’t afford wars, Kham.  They happen because you run out of choices.  And I’m telling you right now, this whole idea that ss’ressen should be able to resettle in human lands was a mistake from the beginning.  The Duke’s a fool if he thought the Black Talon tribe would be peaceful.”  

Pallas stood up and began pacing.  “You don’t know what I’ve seen, Kham. They’re murdering cannibals. I’ve watched lizards rip babies from wombs and eat them.  There’s no decency in those things…no shred of compassion.  I’m doing Milandir a favor by calling them on their lies now, rather than later when Ssethregore strikes and Altheria ends up flanked by lizards on both sides!”

Kham looked sadly at his cousin.  “Look, I don’t trust the lizards either.  But I know one of them, and he tried to save a little boy…a HUMAN child.  That’s not the same monsters you’re talking about.  The ss’ressen aren’t all like that.”

“Aren’t they?” Pallas’ features twisted with indignation.  “I didn’t figure you for a lizard-lover.”

Kham sighed.  He was getting nowhere.  “Where are the eggs?”

Pallas’ brow furrowed.  “What are you accusing me of?”

“Look, I understand.  Altheria’s on the brink of war.  And sometimes we all have to make choices for the greater good.  But stealing another village’s children is not the answer.”

Pallas barked a bitter laugh.  “Is that what you think I’m doing?  I’m kidnapping babies now?  Oh, those lizards have gotten to you, haven’t they?” He shook his head.  “How do you think we’re going to wage a war against these damn things?  With sticks and rocks?  Althares’ gift is black powder, but His will works in mysterious ways.”

“I thought that’s why you were sent here?  To mine more phosphorous?”

“We’re running out, Kham.” Pallas walked over to the fireplace. “The black powder’s running low.  And if we run out, we’ll be overrun by those things.  While you’ve been out touring the world, I’ve been waging a war.  And we do what it takes to procure more phosphorous.”

A horrible thought crept over Kham.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s in the eggs! The eggs have phosphorous in them! I’ve lost a lot of men running missions into the Kraldjur Morass.  But when I found out that there were ss’ressen here, I hired mercenaries to retrieve their eggs. And that’s exactly what they did, with a little help from Altherian ingenuity.”

“That’s crazy,” said Kham.  “There can’t possibly be enough phosphorous in the eggs to risk…this.”

“You don’t believe me?” Pallas pushed on one of the bricks in the fireplace.  A compartment slid open, revealing a clutch of ss’ressen eggs.  “Smell them!”

Kham slowly rose to his feet and walked over.  Pallas picked up an egg with two hands and thrust it towards Kham.  “Here, smell it!  You’ll know what I say is true.”

Kham took the egg.  He took a deep whiff. It reminded him of Emric. 

Pallas was manic behind him, eyes wide.  “You’ve fought them, Kham.  You’ve killed them.  They killed your father.  You know in your heart that this is the only way.  Sacrifices have to be made.  And this town is a small sacrifice to make. You, on the other hand…”

There was the telltale sound of two Altherian flintlock pistols cocked at the back of Kham’s head.  He froze.

“You’re a much bigger sacrifice than I anticipated.  I thought you, of all people, would understand. You and I, we’re a lot alike Kham.  We do what we must to survive.”

“We’re not alike as you think, Pallas.” Kham placed the egg back in the fireplace and pressed the brick, concealing them again.  “I can see the future!”

And suddenly, Vlad was standing where Kham stood, just in time to take the full force of two pistol blasts.


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Part 5c – Face Off*

The world went white.  Kham saw Vlad through the walls of Pallas’ home.  He was standing outside, waiting for the signal.  They all knew the signal was the sound of gunfire.  But by then it would be too late.

Vlad was better armed and armored than Kham.  Besides, there was no time.  He had only seconds to react…

And yet time didn’t move at all in the space between spaces.  He looked up at the sky.  It was filled with a terrible whiteness; only the stars twinkled blackly above him. 

Kham stepped into Vlad’s place.  The two were instantly shunted through Carcosa. 

Everything happened at once.  Vlad fell backwards from the blast of Pallas’ pistols, unprepared from the sudden switch in positions between he and Kham.  Ilmarė skidded into the room, thinblade drawn. 

A bright red hammer, the hammer of Althares, appeared before her.  She ducked as it took a swing, smashing apart the table and the teacups where Kham and Pallas had sat moments before.

Kham entered the room again from outside.  “Pallas, you’ve got to stop this!  We can talk to the Altherian delegation…”

“I am the Altherian delegation!” Pallas shouted.  He reloaded one of his pistols.  “Some day you’ll understand what it means to sacrifice everything for your family, like your father did…I’ll tell him you said hello.”

Pallas aimed for the alchemical equipment.

Kham reached for him.  “No! Wait—“

Vlad leaped to his feet and stood with Grungronazharr held before him.

The bullet spiraled from Pallas’ pistol, igniting the raw phosphorous mixed there.  A bright explosion of colorful flames swept over them…


----------



## talien

*Hidden Greed: Conclusion*

With the eggs found and recovered, the threat to Saeber was over.  The ss’resen escort waited in the hills; they were incredibly overjoyed to have the eggs returned to them.  

“We are greatly indebted to you for preventing a war,” said Lonnek to Vlad.  “You saved our village.  It may not mean a lot in the big scheme of things, but it’s our entire world.”

Vlad accepted the thanks graciously.  

“I apologize, I must leave now to speak with the ss’ressen.  I’ve just received word that four of them are at the gates, waving a flag of peace.”

“Of course,” Vlad said with a slight smile.  “Tell Shatterscale I said hello.”

He walked back over to Kham, who stood alone by himself. “You all right?”

“For a guy who just walked through Carcosa, I’m great,” Kham said sourly.  “I didn’t really understand what was going to happen there.  Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Vlad said with a shy smile.  “Although I’d appreciate some warning next time.”

Ilmarė joined them.  “Carcosa is becoming more a part of you every day.” She looked at Kham strangely.  “Be careful.”

Vlad cleared his throat.  Kham was wrapping up an urn in some cloth.

“Pallas was a good man,” said Kham. 

 “He was a man of conviction. He would have been a worthy opponent in the coming war.” It was the best compliment Ilmarė could give a human.

“I don’t think anyone doubts that, Kham,” said Vlad.  “The eggs were salvageable, thanks to you.  Calactyte’s tribe will survive.  And Milandir didn’t get embroiled in yet another war.  We did some real good here.”

They couldn’t help but notice that two of Pallas’ finely crafted pistols hung from Kham’s holsters.  

“Taking his belongings for safekeeping?” Ilmarė indicated the urn.

Kham finished wrapping the urn and put it in his backpack. “You could say that.  His pistols and these ashes are all I have left of Pallas.  When we get to Altheria, I’ll see to it he receives a proper burial.”

Vlad looked out at the land beyond Saeber’s walls. “I can’t help but wonder what happened to Cal.”

“My guess is he went after the mercenaries Pallas hired,” said Ilmarė.  “By all accounts they were headed to Coryan.”

“We can find lodging in Moratavia,” said Vlad. “It’s not too far a hike from here.”

They packed up the rest of the belongings and walked out the front gate, where the ss’ressen had invaded only days before. 

Kham took one last look at the town.  After a moment, he tossed the symbol of Yig that K’Stallo had given him to the ground.

“We’re even.”

Then he left Saeber to its festivities and negotiations.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 44: Songs That Stir the Darkest Heart - Introduction*

This is a Year One Living Arcanis adventure, “Songs That Stir the Darkest Heart” by Rene’ Alfonso, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

This adventure is filled with drama and dark secrets, so as usual I tied them all together, conveniently providing plenty of angst for Sebastian, Vlad, and Ilmarė, respectively.  Of course, I had expected Vlad and Ilmarė to be playing this session, a marathon session that included four adventures.  But alas, things didn’t work out that way, so I adjusted the plot.

I’m actually happy with how things worked out, including why both major characters weren’t present.  Kham’s powers come in handy, Beldin’s new role as a Dwarven Defender saves peoples lives, and Sebastian blows stuff up real good…when he’s not jogging to a location because no horse will carry him.

At least now, Kham’s background isn’t the only messed up family we get to hear about.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Prologue*

“I don’t understand,” asked Kham again.  “Why are we in Postrava?”

Vlad shrugged.  “Duke Adolphos feels that the recent raids in Milandir are a potential problem for Moratavia as well.  He wants me to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t explain why I’m here.  Or the elf.”

“Ilmarė wanted to go,” said Vlad with a shrug. “She went on ahead of us.  I also sent word for Sebastian and Beldin to meet us there. As for you,” he flashed Kham a smile, “you’re here because you’re my friend.”

Kham rolled his eyes.

They stopped talking as they approached the periphery of the town.  Two guardsmen in leather armor, carrying longswords and short bows, met them. 

“Welcome to Postrava.  May I ask your business in our fair city?”

Vlad leaned forward.  “Business and pleasure my friend.  I’m Vlad Martell, Bailiff for Duke Adolphos val’Tensen.  Kham is a friend of mine.  I’m here to see the Lady Sounshay val’Dellenov regarding a matter of great urgency.”

With this, he handed the guard a writ with Lady Sounshay’s personal seal.  The guard reviewed it carefully.  

“Praised be the will of Saluwe’.  We could certainly use your help against those blasted goblins.”  With that, he let them pass.

After about five minutes of travel within the town limits, they came to a stop.  Ahead was a curious sign that read, “Splintered Oak Tavern and Inn.”  It was carved out of a dead tree trunk about six feet high and three feet in diameter. 

“Not a fancy town, is it?” observed Kham.

The buildings and structures of Postrava were not as elegant as those in Tralia.  The people dressed more casual, and the clothing they wore was not as expensive or luxurious.  It was a rustic community with a humble atmosphere about it.

A woman in green robes with autumn-colored symbols of Saluwe’ waited for them at the door.  Her robes had a mistletoe and nightshade design on it.  She was quite slender and tall at nearly six feet, with hair as dark as night.  

She saw Vlad and smiled.  “Greetings again, old friend.  I almost thought you would miss the show, but thankfully you made it just in time.”

Kham arched an eyebrow as he looked back and forth between the two of them.  For once he kept his mouth shut.

Vlad bowed slightly before his friend.  “I’ve come about the goblins plaguing the western villages.  I invited my companions to the show.  Some are probably inside already.  I hope I have not overstepped my boundaries in doing so?”

“Nonsense my friend.” Lady Sounshay smiled at him.  “I trust your instincts, even if I don’t trust your liege.”

She led them inside. The tavern was like any other except for the emphasis on motifs that expressed the val’Dellenov fondness for nature.  There was a stage area set up for performers.  Judging by the refined dress and appearance of those sitting at the tables closest to the stage, it was obvious they were persons of nobility, wealth, and prominence. 

Kham couldn’t resist. “No love for Adolphos, eh?”

“No,” said Vlad.

“But plenty for you, hmm?”

Vlad shot him a glare as they were led over to a reserved table.  Sebastian the dark-kin, Beldin the dwarf, and Ilmarė the elorii were already seated.  Lady Sounshay joined them.

After introductions were made and meals ordered, they got down to business.

“By now you have all seen that Postrava is certainly not the bustling community that other cities are.  Many have gone so far as to call it a backwater town.” Her gaze flicked to Vlad.  Kham figured out what it was Sounshay didn’t like about Adolphos. 

“I could care less about their opinion. We live in harmony with our surroundings, which have benefited us greatly.  Unfortunately, not all creatures have that same desire.”  She had a stern look in her olive-green eyes.  “Goblins have been raiding villages on the western outskirts of the town with great frequency as of late, and there have been losses of loyal citizens.”  

Lady Sounshay clenched her fist.  “I will not suffer these attacks any longer.  We tried to handle it with reason, but it seems those vermin must be dealt with forcefully.  Our cantons are spread thin, covering as much area as they can, but we would gladly welcome reinforcements.  Help us in this matter and each of you will be paid one hundred Imperials.”

“We will help however we can,” said Vlad.  

A guard stepped up to Sounshay.  “My lady, the Alderinn family needs you.  It seems Emerra has gone into labor.  They need your assistance immediately.”

Sounshay nodded.  “I had a feeling it would be any day now.”  She turned back to the table. “My apologies, but I must leave now.  However, I shall return as soon as possible.  For the time being, stay here and enjoy the show with my friend Vlad.  Anulee Galen is quite a talented bard.”

Vlad and Kham exchanged looks. 

“Did she say Galen?”

Then the lights dimmed and the once loud and jovial crowd hushed into silence.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 1a – The Splintered Oak*

For a brief moment, all of the patrons saw nothing before them.  Then, from the center of the stage, sparkles of multicolored lights began to light the room with a soft glow.  On stage stood perhaps the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen.  With ice-blue eyes and azure hair with streaks of white, she bore an almost angelic appearance.  As she glided towards the front of the stage, her movements were both graceful and effortless, as if she were walking on clouds.  

She smiled.  “Hello my friends.  I am Anulee Galen and here is my gift to all of you.  I hope you enjoy it.”

With that, she turned and, with a wave of her hand, the lights in the room began to swirl slowly, changing colors periodically. She began her song, a crescendo of glory.  Form that point on, the audience could only stare in awe.

“That’s not your mom, is it?” asked Kham.

Ilmarė practically snarled at him.  “No.”

“So that’s got to be your sister.  Older or younger?”

“Older.”

Kham whistled softly.  “No wonder why you’re so bitter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.”  He sat back, pretending to be paying attention to the show.

Ilmarė abruptly got up and left the room.  She was the only one to get up from her chair.  

Anulee ended her song and all the patrons rose to their feet to thunderous applause. 

As a comely young man stepped towards Anulee, her eyes widened and she stutter-stepped away from him.  

Suddenly, the front door of the tavern burst open with a resounding thud.  A middle-aged man rushed in, carrying the bloodied and battered body of a robed elf.  

“Please!” he shouted.  “Somebody help me!  Another elf lies in the alley nearby.  This one is near death himself!”

Vlad and Kham shouted at the same time: “Ilmarė!”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 1b – The Splintered Oak*

“Clear a table!” 

Anulee let out a piercing scream.  “Persius, my love, what have they done to you?”  

Anulee rushed to her lover’s side with her two powerfully built Marokene bodyguards behind her.  She grasped Persius’ hand as he was laid on the table.  

“His wounds are bad,” said Sebastian.  There was a deep gouge in Persius’ chest, severe swelling in his face, and his breathing grew slower and weaker.  “Unless something is done quickly, he will not survive.”

Beldin popped a potion vial open and put it the elorii’s lips.  “This should do it.”

Vlad burst the door open, carrying an unconscious Ilmarė.  He laid her on the table next to Persius.

“We saved her just in time,” said Kham.  “She’s hurt bad.”

As the curative effect took over, Persius turned his head weakly to look at Anulee.  His left eye was swollen shut from the severe beating.

The man who brought him in began shouting for everyone to give the elves some room.

Persius turned his attention to Kuros, who was standing next to Anulee.  He raised an enfeebled arm and pointed directly at Kuros.  “Murderer!” He grit his teeth in rage and agony.  “You tried to kill my friend, and you tried to do the same to me in order to take her from my heart!”

The strain proved too much for him.  He passed out, his arm falling limply at his side. 

Moments later, Lady Sounshay rushed into the tavern with four armed guards at her side.  As she stared at the grisly sight, she cast a spell, placing her holy symbol upon both elves’ chests. Upon completion, the worst wounds on the eloriis’ bodies started to seal up.

She turned to Kuros.  “By order of the val’Dellenov family and in accordance with the just laws of Milandir you are hereby placed under arrest for murder and attempted murder. Take him away this instant!”

With that, four armed guards wrestled Kuros to the ground as he proclaimed his innocence.  A torrent of vulgarity filled the air.  He flailed away at the guards, which despite outnumbering him four to one could barely hold him down.  

They dragged him away kicking and screaming.  Lady Sounshay ordered the bouncer to carry Persius and Ilmarė upstairs to Anulee’s room to rest.

She turned to Vlad as she wiped the blood off her holy symbol.  “Come with me. We have much to discuss.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 2a – The Questioning*

Lady Sounshay met them at a private room in the local prison.  When they arrived, Kuros’ screaming was still audible.

“I know that I originally asked your friends to help us with the goblin problem, but I fear this is a scandalous situation waiting to explode.  Persius, in addition to being Anulee’s lover, is also an ambassador from the elorii of the Vastwood Forest nearby.  I cannot afford armed conflict against the elves, especially since many still have the bitterness of their dead gods burning in their souls.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered Kham.

“Add to that the spike in the goblin threat and our resources are taxed beyond our means.  Your reputations leave me confident that you will assist me. Kuros proclaims his innocence, but I have my doubts.  Then again, anything is possible.”

“We will be glad to assist,” said Vlad.

Sounshay shook her had.  “Not you.  I need your help against the goblins.  I meant your friends.”

“Oh,” Vlad looked startled.  

“Anything to help out a bitter elorii,” said Kham.  

“She’s our friend too,” added Sebastian.  “We’ll do whatever we can.” Beldin nodded in agreement.

Satisfied, Sounshay continued.  “Kuros’ father, Venton, has been summoned and he should be here shortly.  I can tell you that dealing with that man is like swallowing snake venom: both painful and bitter.  I’ll handle him for now. I’ve arranged for you to question Kuros regarding this situation, but please be tactful.  This is an investigation, not a wizard’s hunt.” 

Sebastian shot Kham a look as Sounshay escorted them out and pointed the way to Kuros’ cell.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 2b – The Questioning*

When they got to Kuros’ cell, he was still going off in a raging tantrum, pounding his fists against the bars until his knuckles bled.  

“Calm down,” said Sebastian in a quiet voice.  “We’re here to help you.”

“I’m innocent!  This is ridiculous!”

“I’m sure it is, but we’re just trying to sort out what happened and everyone’s a little tense right now.  Do you mind if I come in and sit down?”

Kuros was taken aback by the request, as if they were guests in his humble home.  He nodded.

The guard unlocked the cell and let Sebastian in.

“Can you provide your version of the story?”

“You were in the same room with me!  How could I possibly be guilty, I was standing in front of everyone!”

“And yet Persius saw you attack him and Ilmarė.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible.  After buying roses for Anulee, I simply went to the Splintered Oak and sat at the front table to enjoy the performance.”

“Interesting.  Why were you giving roses to Anulee?”

Kuros turned red.  “I do have strong feelings for her…but I respect the fact that she is with someone!”  He looked away.  “Besides, the stigma an elf would face in having a relationship with a human would probably be too much to bear.”

Sebastian took a deep breath.  “I understand completely.“  

“I feel horrible about what happened, but someone is framing me…you’ve got to believe me!”

“I believe you.  We’ll do our best.” Sebastian closed the jail cell door behind him.  

“You’ve got to believe me,” he said quietly to no one. After that, Kuros was silent.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 2c – The Questioning*

When Sebastian came out to meet Kham, the val put a finger to his lips.  He pointed around the corner.

Lady Sounshay was in a rather ferocious argument with a middle-aged man.  He had a scowl on his face, and was posturing himself on a very ornate wooden cane with a handle carved in the shape of a gargoyle’s head.  

Apparently getting nowhere with Lady Sounshay, he stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath.

Drained of patience from her squabble with the man, she turned to Sebastian.  “That was Venton Zasfar.  By the Gods, I truly despise dealing with him!” 

“He seemed…unpleasant,” said Sebastian.

“He wasn’t always like that, but I suppose rumors may be true about him never getting over his wife’s death.  It’s the only reason I even try to deal with him.”

Kham nodded.  “Loss can change a man.”

She addressed Sebastian. “So, did Kuros tell you anything that may help unravel this whole mess?”

“Not much, other than that Kuros apparently had feelings for Anulee.”

Sounshay was taken aback.  “Really.  Well, that would provide a motive for the crime.”  

“I’d like to speak to Anulee,” said Sebastian. 

“Absolutely.  She’s been restricted to the Splintered Oak tavern until we get to the bottom of this, you can speak with her there.”

“What about Ilmarė?” asked Beldin.

“For medical and security reasons, Persius and Ilmarė, per the wishes of Anulee, have been sent back to the Vastwood Forest to heal their injuries with their people.”

Kham hesitated.  “You just sent her back?  Did she ever have a say in it?”

Sounshay’s expression turned dark.  “Truth be told, she has a poison in her we don’t know how to cure.  Anulee thought it best that the elorii deal with it, as she considers their healers to be…” she hesitated, “more advanced.”

As they left the jail, Kham hung back.  “You guys go on ahead.  I want to investigate something.”

Sebastian looked at Kham seriously. “Just be sure to come back to the tavern before daybreak.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 2d – The Questioning*

Kham flattened himself against the wall of the jail.  Two men were arguing in hushed tones in a shadowy area just outside the prison.  One was Venton and the other was the man who brought Persius’ body into the tavern. They hadn’t seen Kham.  

 “The sins of your past have come back to haunt you, Venton.  Your son is paying for your misdeeds. You know it and I know it.  But what would a heartless man like you give a damn about, other than himself?”

Venton jabbed the other man in the ribs with his cane.  “I should have let those smugglers from Blackwand kill you for your stupidity rather than pay off your gambling debt.  You were always weak-willed, and a lousy bodyguard to boot, Augustus.  You don’t know the first thing about loyalty!”

Augustus slapped Venton’s cane away from him. “If I were as disloyal as you claim, you would not even be half the man you are today.”

“I will take care of my son, Augustus.”  Venton walked towards his private carriage.  “You are not worth my time, fool.”  He yelled to his driver to get moving.

“Someday, you’re going to get yours,” whispered Augustus, his head lowered in shame as he walked away.

Kham sidled up to him.  “I couldn’t help but hear that you might know something about Kuros and his father.  Care to enlighten me?”

Augustus shot him a distrustful glare.  “What do you know about it?”

“That’s why I’m asking,” said Kham.  “If you can help save an innocent man, maybe you should share.”

Augustus’ features betrayed an internal struggle.  Finally, he said, “What I tell you must remain between us.”  

“Sure.”

“The relationship between Anulee and Venton was not as simple as you have been led to believe.  Venton, in his youth, was very charming and taken with her.  He was also married at the time. The two were closer…than just friends.”

Kham smirked.  “I’ve seen Anulee.  I can see how that would happen.”

“Venton and Anulee committed a most unspeakable act that they hid very well from the general populace.”

“Is an affair between humans and elves that big a deal?”

Augustus nodded.  “Except for me, no one else knew about it.  Like a fool, I kept the secret because Venton solved my gambling debt and thus saved my life.  I sold my sense of decency in exchange for silence.”

“So what is this unspeakable act?”

“I would prefer Venton tell you.  I want to offer him one last chance at redemption.  He will be at his home tomorrow afternoon.  I will tell you where he lives so that you can question him.”

Kham patted his pistols.  “I know how to do that.”

“I believe that somehow, Venton’s past has something to do with what is happening now.  More than this, I dare not say.  If he refuses to tell you what happened, meet me at the warehouse next to Archibald the blacksmith’s shop at nine tomorrow evening.  At that time, I will tell you the whole sordid story and damned be the consequences.”

With that, he glanced around to be sure he wasn’t followed, and then disappeared into the darkness.

“Warehouses,” said Kham.  “Sebastian will be thrilled.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 3 – Truth in a Shroud*

As Sebastian and Beldin arrived at the Splintered Oak, it was clear that was once a cheerful establishment had become a grim crime scene.  A startled barmaid with a mop tried to clean the bloodstains from the floor.  There was absolute silence in the room.

Without making eye contact, the barmaid said, “Lady Sounshay said you would be coming.  The bard’s room is up the stairs, third door to your left.”

As they made their way upstairs into the hallway, their path was blocked by two well-muscled Marokene elves.  Unlike Ilmarė and Anulee, the elves were shorter but stronger, with a slight tinge of gray to their skin.  They were both heavily armed.

“Halt,” said one of the guards, his hand sliding to his sword pommel. “State your business.”

“We are here to speak to Anulee by permission of Lady Sounshay,” said Sebastian.

The Marokene reluctantly let them pass with a look of mild disgust. Sebastian ignored it; he was accustomed to Ilmarė’s glares.

Inside, Anulee was a shell of her former self.  She was no less beautiful than the woman they saw and hear singing majestically to a captivating crowd.  And yet her eyes, swelled from her constant crying, were dim.  

She tried to be resolutely diplomatic.  “Please, sit down.  I was expecting you.  I want to help resolve this matter for the betterment of all.”

Sebastian and Beldin sat down.

“Is Persius sure that it was Kuros that waylaid him and Ilmarė?” asked Sebastian. “He was standing in front of all of us when Persius claims he was assaulted.”

Anulee nodded.  “Persius is a very observant individual. He would never accuse someone unless he was absolutely sure.”

“But why would Kuros do such a thing?” asked Beldin. “Jealousy?”

“Perhaps.” She sighed.  “Despite the fact that I suspected he had feelings for me, they never struck me as being obsessive. Or dangerous.”

“So you knew Kuros then,” prodded Sebastian.

“Yes.  Like his father Venton, Kuros is a lover of the arts and theater, particularly song.  He often traveled with us when he was a child.  He was an endearing little boy in his youth.  I was once a friend of his father’s, but many years have passed after we had a falling out.  Shortly thereafter Venton’s wife, Victoria, passed away.  Afterwards, I returned to the Vastwood Forest to spend time with my people.” She looked the dark-kin up and down. “Not all humans here find our presence comfortable.”

Sebastian flashed her a sympathetic smile. “I understand. What happened between you and Venton?”

“We had a falling out.  He does not have the kindest of souls.  His son has apparently inherited his father’s temper.”

“What kind of falling out?” asked Beldin.

“I can say no more.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” asked Sebastian.

She didn’t respond.

“What made you come back from the Vastwood Forest?” asked Beldin.

“I felt renewed vigor to use the gift that Osalian gave me.  I believe it’s my duty to bring happiness and hope to those that have little of either.”

Beldin and Sebastian looked at each other.

“And what makes you think Postrava lacks those two attributes?” asked Sebastian.

Anulee flashed a condescending smile.  “Wherever there are humans, there will always be suffering.”

Sebastian got up and thanked the elorii for her time.  Downstairs, the barmaid had finished mopping the floor.  

“May as well go home, Gertie,” said the bartender.  “I don’t think we’ll have much business today.”

Kham was seated at one of the tables, sipping from a mug.  He hopped up when Sebastian and Beldin arrived.

“Took you long enough.  Get anything good out of the elf?”

Beldin crossed his arms.  “She’s hiding something.  Something terrible happened here that caused her to leave.”

Kham finished his mug. “Yeah, that’s what my pal Augustus said too.”

“I suspect she returned to Postrava out of guilt,” said Sebastian.

“Yeah, well, let’s visit Venton’s home.” He pushed back his overcoat to reveal one of his pistols.  “I think we may have more luck interviewing him.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 4 – The Goblinoid Ambush*

It was clear that the forces of nature held sway along the sparsely traveled roadway.  The verdant landscape of tall brush, towering oak trees and symphony of wildlife were constant reminders that the Vastwood Forest was a far cry from the crowded modern cities of Milandir.

“I don’t like the feel of this place,” said Sebastian.

Kham took in a deep breath of fresh air. “You say that about every place with plants.”

Beldin shoved Kham and Sebastian’s heads down.  “Down!” 

Crossbow bolts whistled past them.  One tore a jagged rent in Sebastian’s robes.  Another pinned itself in the folds of Kham’s overcoat.

Beldin reached behind him and unlatched his battleaxe from the strap across his back.  With one smooth motion, he brought it up in time to block a hulking hobgoblin’s scimitar.

“Goblins!” snarled Beldin.  “Get behind me!”

Kham drew two of his pistols.  “There’s not enough room behind you!”

Sebastian whirled, fingers fanned out towards the goblins hiding in the thicket.  “Radius Incensio!” Two gouts of flame extended from his fingertips.  The ensuing screams indicated Sebastian’s magic had found its target.

Another hobgoblin came roaring towards Kham.  One pistol kicked in Kham’s hands, smoke trailing the barrel.  The hobgoblin looked down in stupefied disbelief as his scimitar was shout of his hands.  It whistled end over end and then landed in the thicket.

Beldin blocked a strike from the hobgoblin with his shield, which he unbuckled a second after he drew his axe.  The dwarf hunkered low and rammed the larger hobgoblin in the chest, knocking it back a few feet.

The hobgoblin facing Kham drew its dagger.  Kham aimed and fired again, piercing the hobgoblins hand.  The dagger fell to the ground.  

“Know when to give up,” Kham said.  He holstered his pistols.  “Skiz?  Reload.”

Two pistols nudged their way out of Kham’s belt pouch.

A volley of crossbow bolts whistled past them.  Sebastian faced the other side of the road. “Radius Incensio!”  More screams.

The hobgoblin drew a javelin from a quiver on its back, preparing to hurl it at the val.  

Beldin whistled his axe around him and then hacked upwards, splitting the remaining hobgoblin’s chin in two. He collapsed to the ground.  The sounds of panicked retreated echoed through the forest.

Kham fired both pistols, leaving a smoking hole where the hobgoblin’s head had been.

Beldin tugged his axe out of the hobgoblin’s head.  “Goblins shouldn’t be out in this territory.  Something’s stirred them up.”

Sebastian scanned their surroundings. “Vlad’s got his work cut out for him. I don’t envy his task.”

Kham winced as he yanked a crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. “Why doesn’t anyone ever envy OUR tasks?”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 5 – Sins of the Father*

“Now that’s a manor,” said Kham.

The manor of Venton Zasfar had few equals.  A black iron fence surrounded the mansion grounds.  At the gate entrance were two ten-foot high marble columns topped by black gargoyle statues.  Beldin peered at them curiously.

“Well made,” he said.  As an afterthought, he added.  “They’re not real gargoyles though.”

They reached the front door.  The guard bid them to stop while he let Venton know of their arrival. 

Moments later, a raspy voice yelled obscenities at the guard. 

The guard returned, pale. “He will see you now.  Please know that he is not in the best of moods.”

Kham pushed past him.  “Yeah, we got that.”

When they entered, Venton was sitting on a luxurious couch facing a fireplace, cane in hand, with his war hound at his side.  

“Do you have information pertaining to my son’s situation?”  Before they could respond.  “Well, speak your mind and be quick about it!”

“Actually,” began Sebastian, “we’re here to ask you some questions about your friend Augustus.  It seems he feels you know something that you’re not telling.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but let me give you some advice: there are some things that are best left alone.  This is one of them.”

“So you don’t deny that you had an affair with Anulee?”

“Well, if you must know, it’s true,” snapped Venton.  “My wife Victoria was frail and sickly ever since the birth of my son.  A man has needs you know, and it’s not my fault that Anulee was taken by my charms.  Last I checked, having an affair is not against the law.”

Kham found a bottle of wine nearby, opened the cork, and started drinking.  “Good thing too, or else I’d be…”

Sebastian cleared his throat. Kham stopped speaking.

“Put yourselves in my place.” Venton gently stroked his war hound’s russet coat.  “Anulee is an intoxicating creature, but she proved to be ultimately ungrateful.  Yes, she has talent, but it was MY influence that made things happen for her.”

Beldin peered at him under bushy eyebrows. “What exactly was she ungrateful about?”

Venton sighed.  “Fair enough then.  What will it take to guarantee your silence on this matter?”

Sebastian’s posture changed.  “We will not be bribed.”

“Damn your bloated sense of righteousness!  If you think the world will reward you for it then you are more naive than I thought!”  Venton struck his cane against the floor.  “This conversation is terminated.  I’m sure you can see your way out the door.”  He raised his cane and pointed to the door.

Kham stood up slowly to face Venton. “In the old days, I’d just shoot people like you until you talk.” 

Venton didn’t flinch. The war hound lifted its head and started to growl.

“Kham, let’s go…” said Sebastian. 

 “Fortunately for you, I’ve turned over a new leaf.” Kham left the wine bottle, empty, on the table where he found it.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 6a – Dead Man Talking*

As they made their way towards the warehouse, the streets were relatively empty.  

“It seems the incident in the Splintered Oak has left a lingering fear in the populace,” said Beldin.

Aside from the burning lanterns they passed every so often, there was no other light to guide their way.  The unsettling silence only reinforced the desolation.

A tiny bat crawled out of the folds of Sebastian’s robes.  He whispered to it and the bat flitted off into the darkness.  

A couple of moments later it returned.  The bat chattered at him. 

“Dracuul says that the two lanterns nearest here have been shattered.  Someone wants it dark here.”

“Do you actually understand that thing?” asked Kham.

Sebastian looked offended. “Of course.  And he understands me perfectly.”

Skiz popped his head out of the extradimensional satchel where Kham kept most of his pistols.  “Talking rodents,” said the talking rat.  “Go figure, eh boss?”

“Very funny,” said Kham. 

“One other thing: we are being followed by a large black bird.”

Kham holstered his pistols.  “I’m going to investigate yet another warehouse.”

Imbibing a potion, Kham jumped ten feet up onto the wall of the warehouse. Then he began to carefully climb his way up.

He pushed the window open.  It was pitch black inside.  

Skiz crawled out of Kham’s satchel. He sniffed the air with sensitive whiskers.  “Man, it stinks in here boss.”

“Yeah, I smell it.” A strange, acrid smell burned his nostrils.  

Kham flicked a tindertwig with one finger and it flared to life.  He held it in his mouth as he descended the labyrinth of wooden creates.

He avoided stepping into a large pool of blood that coalesced on the floor before him.  It led to a gruesome scene.

Before Kham lay the mangled and broken body of Augustus.  He lay in the still-fresh pool of his own blood, his face locked in an expression of utter horror.  What was most bizarre were three needle-like gray spikes, as long as shortswords, were driven through his chest and exiting through his back.  The spikes transfixed the corpse to the floor.  Wisps of pungent smoke rose like tormented spirits from the areas where the spikes contacted his flesh.  

Kham took the tindertwig out of his mouth. “Well, I guess he’s not talking.”

Skiz sniffed around the corpse, then wriggled into Augustus’ clothes.  Kham blanched at the sight of a rat burrowing into a corpse.  

Skiz was rifling through the dead man’s pockets.  “Found a potion and…a note.” He dragged the note out with his teeth.  “What’s it say boss?”

Kham scanned it.  Then he slowly lowered the note.  “I don’t believe this.”

“What boss?” Skiz sat up on his hind legs.  “Come on, what?”

“According to our dead friend here, a dark-kin named Lantross fell in love with Anulee and helped break up the relationship between the elf and Venton. Venton tried to hire Augustus to murder a town guard, one Heinrich Martell, and pin it on Lantross.  When Augustus wouldn’t do it, Venton did the dirty work himself.  Then he threatened to reveal his affair with Anulee unless she committed perjury during the trial and pinned the crime on Lantross.”  

“Martell? That’s the big guy’s last name, right?  They related?”

Kham nodded.  “I think so.  It’s Lantross’ name that worries me.”

“Why?”

“Lantross’ last name is Arnyal, the same as Sebastian.”

Just then Kham heard Sebastian calling his name.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 6b – Dead Man Talking*

A bank of fog surrounded Beldin and Sebastian while they waited for Kham to exit the warehouse.  The stench of brimstone was so strong that it made their eyes tear. 

“Trouble,” said Beldin.  “Get behind me.”

A barely humanoid figure lurched out of the fog.  Its entire body was bristling with dark gray spikes.  Its hellish features framed glowing red eyes.  The things body shook feverishly with the anticipation of a fresh kill.

“More to kill, “a sibilant voice giggled in their minds, “more to kill!”

“Gods, that’s a hamatula!” whispered Sebastian.  “Kham!  Get out here!”

Beldin’s axe and shield were out.  He faced the devil.  “You cannot pass!”

The devil roared.  It traced a symbol in the air and a blast of energy spun outwards from the infernal glyph, nearly flattening Sebastian. 

“I am a Defender of Man,” shouted Beldin, “Apprentice of Elabac the Wise. Your dark magics will not avail you!”

It traced another symbol, this one in the shape of a demonic head.  The infernal blast excoriated Beldin but he did not move from his spot.

“Go back to hell!” shouted Beldin.  

Sebastian shouted “Acid sphaera!” A green orb appeared in his palm.  He threw it at the devil, melting spikes and flesh. “Kham!”

The devil raised itself to its full height with a mighty roar.  The spikes that dotted its body shivered outwards, growing longer and wicked. It towered over Beldin.

The hamatula charged forward, but Beldin crouched down and took the full impact head on.  Some of the spikes on the devil snapped off.  Others found their mark, impaling the dwarf.  And still he did not move an inch.

From behind Beldin, Sebastian pointed at the hamatula. “Radius Incensio!” Spiraling flames washed over the devil, dissipating harmlessly.  “Khaaaaam!”

The devil roared again and extended a palm at Sebastian.  The same flames blasted into the dark-kin, knocking him to the ground.

“You shall not pass!” shouted Beldin.  He hacked viciously at the thing’s face, but even that was protected by bony protrusions. 

Sebastian lifted his arms. “Mulimodis Oris!”  Three ghostly pairs of vicious jaws flew out from the folds of his robes.

The hamatula drove its spikes deeper into Beldin. The dwarf grunted in pain.

The ghostly jaws clamped onto the hamatula, one on each arm and another on its throat.  And still it moved forward, skewering Beldin.

“Medricas val’Assante, I call upon your gift to fight evil,” pleaded Beldin to the heavens. “Guide my axe!”

White flames consumed Beldin’s axe.  The devil reared back; for the first time its feral features registered fear.  

With a mighty roar, Beldin hacked downwards on the hamatula’s head, splitting it in two.  It disappeared in an oily burst of smoke. 

Beldin stood panting, covered in devil ichor.  Sebastian put out the flames on his robe. 

Kham opened the warehouse doors and sauntered out.  “I heard you the first few times.  What’s up?”

Beldin slumped to the ground, unconscious from his wounds.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 6c – Dead Man Talking*

Lady Sounshay and three town guardsmen attended to Beldin’s wounds. 

Kham pulled Sebastian aside. “We need to talk.” He handed Sebastian Augustus’ note.

Lady Sounshay joined them.  “What happened here?”

Kham jabbed a thumb in the direction of the warehouse. “I found that note on Augustus’ body, in there.”

Sebastian scanned the letter.  “Venton and Anulee were having a secret affair.” His features slowly twisted in rage. ”She used a visiting dark-kin as an excuse to break up with Venton. In retaliation, Venton blackmailed Anulee into blaming the dark-kin for the murder of a town guard.”

“I remember that.” The implications dawned on her.  “The dark-kin was executed for that crime!”

“That dark-kin was Lantross.” Sebastian’s face was red.  “Lantross Arnyal. My father.” He handed Sounshay the note. “Just before he was executed, he had another visitor.  Lantross’ brother…my uncle.”

“I am issuing a warrant for the arrest of Venton Zasfar.” Sounshay barked orders at the guards. She turned back to Sebastian. “I will personally bring it to his door tonight, even if I have to storm his manor and fling his vile sleeping carcass out of his own bed!”

“We can handle that,” began Kham.

“No!” snarled Sounshay.  “I need you to go to the Splintered Oak and bring Anulee to me immediately.  Perjury is also a crime.” 

Beldin’s wounds had been healed enough that he was able to stand.  He limped over to them.

Sounshay handed Sebastian a writ to bring her into custody.  “Hurry.  There is no telling how many more innocent lives are in danger.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 7 – Dead Man Talking*

They raced to the Splintered Oak.  It was empty except for the bartender who was doing inventory of his supplies.  

“Great Saluwe’!” said the bartender as they entered.  “Is everybody in such a hurry tonight?”

“What do you mean?” asked Sebastian.

“Well, I saw one of those Marokene bodyguards come in here after his walk and go up the stairs same as he did every other time.  A few minutes later, I saw Anulee racing down the stairs, practically stumbling over her feet and out the door faster than I could blink.  Then, the same Marokene bodyguard came back down the stairs just as quickly and went out the door. Then I heard the horses get restless and the sound of the carriage taking off.”

Kham drew his pistols.  “Not good.”

“Did Lady Sounshay give her permission to leave?” asked the befuddled bartender.  “I could have sworn Anulee was supposed to stay here.”

“No.” Beldin took out his axe and crept up the steps towards Anulee’s room.  “She wasn’t supposed to leave.”

Sebastian addressed Kham.  “So she was kidnapped then.”

Kham nodded.  “A shapeshifter posed as Kuros.  My money’s on Venton.”

“I don’t think so.”  Sebastian followed behind Kham.  “The hamatula you didn’t help us fight was summoned by someone with connections to the infernal.  Venton doesn’t strike me as the type who traffics with devils.”

“With enough money, anything’s possible. Fifty imperials say I’m right,” said Kham.

“Let’s hope neither of us are right,” Sebastian said morosely.

The door to the bodyguards’ room was ajar.  Beldin entered the room.  

A note was pinned to the door of Anulee’s room with a dagger.  Kham scanned it. “This is the court record from ten years ago.” He handed it to Sebastian.

“There’s a note at the bottom, written in the infernal tongue,” Sebastian read it. “The time for justice has come.”

Beldin came back out of the bodyguards’ room.  “Elandros’ body is in there.  Looks like a gladius punctured his heart.  Also, there are no bags packed for travel.”

“Let’s go,” said Sebastian. 

The bartender was standing at the foot of the steps.  “The carriage left here not that long ago; if you hurry, you can catch up to it!  They left going east out of town. I only have three horses in the stable outside, but you’re welcome to use them.”

Sebastian sighed.  “No thanks, I’ll—“

Kham shouldered Sebastian aside.  “We’ll run it.  Beldin, you go on ahead, we’ll catch up.”

The bartender led Beldin to the stables.

Sebastian acknowledged Kham with a nod.  Then they both took off in a sprint towards the east side of town.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 8a – Dark Vengeance*

Beldin found the carriage pulled off to the side of the road.  An unarmored man held a gladius to Anulee’s throat; she hung shackled to a low-slung branch of a tree.  She showed no signs of injury.

“I am Aglamar, brother of Lantross Arnyal.”  His face was painted blood red.  “I know why you have come and if you knew even half of the truth, then you would realize this woman deserves to die.”

“We know what she conspired to do.” Beldin dismounted.  “And what it cost your family.  But she was coerced by Venton—“

“I don’t CARE that Venton coerced her!  She had her moment to tell the truth but lied and condemned my brother’s life to keep her dirty little secret safe.  I wanted Venton, that miserable piece of garbage, to suffer as well, but hurting the cripple was too easy…”

“So it was you who attacked the elves and Augustus?”

Aglamar nodded.  “Hurting Venton by framing his son Kuros…now that was well worth the effort.” He pressed the blade against Anulee’s neck.  Her eyes were wide with terror. “So it comes down to this.  Will you stop me and let their actions continue to make a mockery of the fabled Milandisian honor and justice, or must you force me to end your life as well?”

Beldin’s axe and shield were out. “I cannot allow you to harm her.  She must face justice; even human justice, as flawed as it might be, is better than petty vengeance.”

“So be it.” Aglamar stepped away from Anulee.  “I should warn you I am a shaman of the wolf.  The powers at my disposal are more formidable than you can imagine.”

“I was a titan once,” snarled Beldin.  “Your magic holds no secrets.” And with that he charged forward.

A huge black hound the size of a man slammed into Beldin as he passed the tree where Anulee was held captive.  He rolled to his feet to face it. 

“Meet Raze, my pet,” said Aglamar.  

The hound had a bright red streak running down its back.  Its eyes glowed a hellish red.  Beldin ducked down as flames spewed from its maw.  The fire washed over his shield and singed his beard.

Then Raze was upon him.  He bore the brunt of it on his shield, but the snapping jaws threatened to tear off his face.  Beldin hacked downwards, shearing off an ear.  The hound yelped in pain and jumped backwards.

Before it could recover, Beldin surged forward, cracking the hound with his shield.  He followed up with his axe, finishing it. The dwarf spun to face Aglamar once more.

Aglamar pointed at him.  A gout of flames blasted down from the heavens.  

Beldin looked up just in time to see it coming.  He raised his shield overhead as the conflagration struck.

When it went out, Beldin was still standing.  The surrounding vegetation was blackened to a crisp, the grass and brush smoking from the attack.  Beldin himself was covered in soot.  Only the whites of his eyes were visible.  He took a step towards Aglamar. 

“You are like a big, stupid dog who can't stop eating.” Aglamar raised one hand heavenwards.  The other pointed at Beldin.  “Even though your master said you've had enough!”

There was a terrible crack and the air was filled with the taste of ozone.  A lightning bolt struck from the skies, connecting through Beldin’s helmet.  The dwarf shook it off.

“Now it's time to put this bad dog to sleep... for good!”


Aglamar pointed again, and lightning struck again.  Thrice.  Four times.  And still Beldin took slow, shuddering steps forward.

Bolt after bolt surged through Beldin’s body.  The tips of his beard were on fire.  His armor was blackened, his flesh cracked and bleeding.  And still the dwarf kept coming.

“Why won’t you die?” shouted Aglamar.

Aglamar thrust one hand into the air, his hand an open claw.  Trees and shrubbery reached around the grab Beldin’s feet.  The dwarf kept moving forward, one shuddering step at a time.  The brush that clung to him carved great furrows in the dirt.

Beldin stood within striking distance of Aglamar.  He had since dropped his shield.  With two hands, he lifted his dwarven battleaxe over his head…

The hideous sound of snapping bone gave him pause.  He looked down.

Aglamar had thrust his gladius up to its hilt in Beldin’s abdomen.  The pommel had the word “Brother” engraved in Low Coryan on it, and it sported a snarling wolf-head motif.

The dwarf collapsed just as Sebastian and Kham arrived.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 8b – Dark Vengeance*

Sebastian raised his hands, palms open, towards Aglamar.

The shaman lifted a finger.  “You may not want to do that.  You might hurt your precious elf.”  He pointed at Anulee. The tree she hung from took a shuddering step forward, its roots ripped from its moorings. 

Kham’s pistols were out.  “I don’t care if he’s your uncle, I’m going to just shoot him in the head.”

They dove in different directions as a huge tree limb swatted at them.  

“I can’t stop this tree without hitting the girl!” shouted Sebastian.

Kham jumped backwards as the tree took another clumsy swipe at him.  “I think I can fix that.”  He holstered his pistols.  “When I give you the signal, you do what you do best.”

Sebastian took another step backwards as the tree turned its attention to him. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly, Kham was hanging from the tree and Anulee, freed of her bindings, was standing where Kham once was.

The tree lifted another limb to strike at Sebastian.  With a twist, Kham easily slipped out of the bonds that originally bound Anulee.  He dove to the side and rolled to his feet.

“Now Sebastian!”

Sebastian fanned out his fingers.  “Incendiaries globus!”

A ball of fire enveloped the tree.  It flailed helplessly for a moment, enveloped in flames.  With another mighty creak, the blackened husk collapsed into ashes. 

Kham was still admiring his handiwork when Aglamar attacked.  The val spun just in time to block Aglamar’s strike with his scimitar and dagger.

With a bellow of rage, Aglamar struck blow after blow.  

“Uh, Sebastian?” shouted Kham over his shoulder.  “Now would be a good time…”

He didn’t get to finish.  Kham caught another deadly gladius strike between his blades, and for a brief moment they were locked, eye-to-eye. Spittle dripped from Aglamar’s chin, his eyes bulging with fury.  

“Radius Incensio!” Two trails of fire blasted into Aglamar’s back…with no effect.

With a roar, Aglamar smashed both of Kham’s weapons aside, knocking him to the ground.  He looked up, stunned, as Aglamar raised his gladius for the killing blow…

Then he dropped his gladius and shield.  He slowly turned, clutching at his back.  Beldin’s waraxe was embedded in Aglamar’s spine. He collapsed to the ground.

Beldin limped over to Aglamar and yanked the blade out of him. “It’ll take more than that to stop a dwarf,” he grumbled.

Aglamar twisted in agony, his battle frenzy wearing off.  He groaned, spitting up blood. 

Anulee cupped Aglamar’s head in her hands and whispered a chant. 

“I have eased his pain for a moment.” She looked at Sebastian, tears in her eyes.  “It’s the best I can do.”

Sebastian kneeled by Aglamar’s side.  “Hello, uncle.” He took his hand.  

Aglamar blinked back tears.  “Brother…?”

Sebastian tried to smile, but his mouth was trembling. Aglamar had confused him with his father. “I am Landross’ son. Be still.”

“You look just like him…Anulee!  Where is Anulee?”

Sebastian shook his head.  “We let her go.”

Aglamar winced as the pain returned.  “Then you did what I could not.  Forgive me, I have failed you.”

“No, Aglamar, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor.”

Aglamar shuddered.  “It is over.  Landross’ murder will never be avenged…”

“I swear to you I will see justice done,” said Sebastian. 

Aglamar focused on him again.  “Your father…would have been proud of you.” Then his body went slack, his unfocused gaze staring past Sebastian into death. 

Sebastian touched his hand to his forehead, then to his lips in respect.

“Be at peace, son of Canceri,” whispered Sebastian. He bent and kissed Aglamar on the brow. 

Kham looked sadly at Sebastian and Beldin.  Beldin bowed his head and turned away.

Sebastian whirled on Anulee.  Without a word, he lifted one open palm towards her…

“Sebastian, wait—” shouted Beldin.

There was a resounding crack.  Anulee collapsed to the ground, her hand to one cheek.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Sebastian pulled the writ from his robes and tossed it at her feet.


----------



## talien

*Songs: Part 8c – Dark Vengeance*

As they entered the town, a host of guardsmen escorted Anulee to the local prison.  Inside, Kuros was standing next to Lady Sounshay.  A guard stood behind them, holding a squirming and angry Venton in his grasp. As Anulee entered, Kuros’ eyes flashed with fury.  

”Please take Anulee to the first holding room,” said Lady Sounshay.  “Have Venton put in the second.  When I call for each one, bring them to me.” With that, the guards took them both away. 

Sounshay addressed Sebastian.  “Kuros and I have discussed what to do with both Anulee and Venton.  The laws of Milandir are not toys to manipulate for their convenience.  However, we felt that because you are Landross’ son, you should have a say.  What form of punishment do you think they deserve?”

Sebastian took a deep breath.  “Banishment for Anulee.  Since she loves this place dearly, so banishment should be a fitting punishment. As for Venton…he should be executed.”

Lady Sounshay called for the guards to bring in Anulee. 

“We have discussed your part in this matter and come to a decision.  Perjury is a serious offense, especially when it leads to the unjust execution of an innocent man. He may have been dark-kin,” Sounshay looked at Sebastian, “but in Postrava at least, we judge the soul of a man by his actions, not his blood.”

“Be thankful, for the merciful nature of Sebastian astounds me considering all that he has had to endure.  I could have you locked away for what you’ve done, but immortality is in your favor.  Therefore, as punishment for your part in this, I hereby order you banished from Sylvania until Sebastian forgives you for what you have done to Lantross.  Pray that he is more forgiving than his uncle was, as I believe him to be.  Perhaps someday, Sylvania will be graced with your song again.  That is my edict.  Let it be done.”

Anulee pressed something wrapped in parchment in Sebastian’s hand.  “Please give this to Ilmarė on my behalf.” She turned to Kuros, tears streaming down her face.  “For what it is worth, I am truly sorry for the sorrow I have caused.” 

Kuros looked at her for a moment and then turned his gaze away, not uttering a word. The guards ushered Anulee back to her cell.

Lady Sounshay called for the guard to bring in Venton.  He was still trying to free himself from the guard’s grasp when they dragged him in.

She fixed him with a penetrating stare.  “Now, as for you, Venton, it seems your son’s sense of irony is as sharp as his sense of justice. I will allow him to tell you what your punishment is.”

Kuros stepped up to his father, mere inches from his face.  “I may have acquired your temper, but at least I do not have your black, twisted heart, father.  Tomorrow morning, you will sign over access to al your monetary wealth, properties, businesses, the mansion, and every other thing you own.  All your life you have used your money, influence, and power to destroy peoples’ lives.  It ends today.

“While my mother was dying, you made a mockery of her love for you.  From this day forth, you will have only that which I allow you to have, which will not be much.  Finally, you will not be allowed to leave Postrava.  This place will become your tomb.  I will not allow you to further smear the good and honorable Zasfar name.”

Venton’s face reddened.  “You can’t do that to me!” he screamed.  “I won’t allow it!”  He raised his cane to strike Kuros.

Kuros snatched the cane from Venton.  Pushed off balance, the old man fell to the floor.  

“You’ll agree to this, or you will be executed.” With that, Kuros walked away.

“My cane!” pleaded Venton.  “Please…I can’t walk without my cane.” He struggled in vain to rise.

“Life is hard, father,” said Kuros as he left the prison.  “I suggest you get used to it.”


----------



## talien

*Songs: Conclusion*

Vlad returned soon after from the field, completing his original mission of helping thwart the goblin attacks.  Huddled at The Splintered Oak, they all partook of a sorely needed drink. 

“So that’s what happened to my father…” Vlad shook his head in disbelief. “I had heard he’d been killed, but I thought it happened in the line of duty.”

“My father left us when I was very young.” Sebastian drained his mug and ordered a refill. “I never knew what happened to him.  I didn’t even know I had an uncle.”

“Venzon Zasfar named Kuros as the immediate controller of all the wealth and holdings of his family,” said Beldin.  

“What a shock,” added Kham. 

“And what of Anulee?” asked Vlad.

“The entire ordeal has been incredibly trying for Anulee,” said Sebastian sardonically.  “She has decided to leave town, not mentioning when or if she will return.”

“That’s probably for the best,” said Vlad.  “What are we going to tell Ilmarė?”

“That justice was served.” Sebastian turned the pin Anulee had handed to him over in his hands.  It had a motif of a gliding bird on it. 

“Has it?” asked Beldin.  

“Milandisian law isn’t perfect,” said Vlad.  “But it’s all we have.”

Sebastian looked down into the contents of his mug.  “Justice wears many masks,” he said.  “Vengeance is but one of them.”

“I think I understand why Ilmarė is so ambivalent about Quintus now,” said Vlad.  “If Anulee was willing to have someone killed to protect her secret, it must really be a terrible thing for elorii and humans to mingle.”

“Speaking of Ilmarė,” Kham slurped from his mug, “why was she meeting Anulee’s lover in an alley?”

They were silent for a moment.  

“Well,” said Vlad suddenly.  “I’ve been summoned to Treslau to report back to Duke Adolphos.  Anyone want to come with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Anything but here.”

And with that, they left town.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 45: Unpaid Debts - Introduction*

This is a Year Two Living Arcanis adventure, “Unpaid Debts” by Eric Wiener, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

This adventure is very important in the big scheme of things, as it details the pursuit of a sword that could ignite a civil war.  Unfortunately, the adventure is a bit haphazard; I’m leery of “dream sequence” battles (which seem to be a staple of Arcanis for some reason).  Fortunately, we’ve already established some strange dream sequence combat before so it wasn’t too hard to introduce it again.

The identity of the bad guys and the force behind them are not revealed in this adventure at all, even to the Game Master, so I changed it around.  This is the beginning of an invasion, the invasion that “stirred up the goblins” in the last adventure, and it harkens back to one of the first adventures.  Unfortunately, the adventure involved Vlad, Quintus, and Ilmarė, so no one was around to really be horrified by the revelation.

Finally, this adventure features the return of a certain pivotal character.  It was anticlimactic because the PCs weren’t all that interested in talking and mostly focused on the goal: getting the sword to its destination. This adds up to two battles, one of which is brutal and over quickly, the other which is a non-event.

Still, Beldin got a kick-ass axe, and that counts for something!

P.S. Sebastian got a new spell.  Guess which one it is!


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Prologue*

Johan Bauer was a simple Moratavian farmer.  His old well had dried up after an earthquake, so he took to digging a new one. He dug a hole deeper and deeper, and as he dug the morning became afternoon, shining overhead.  Eventually, the sun moved past its zenith, leaving him with little light to continue.

Exhausted and covered in dirt, Johan leaned against the wall.  He was a good ten feet below the surface.  It would take awhile to reach the water table, but he knew it would happen eventually.  

A small trail of pebbles skittered down one side of the well.  Johan looked up.  He had a terrible thought: if another earthquake hit, he would be buried alive.

Johan started to climb his way up the side of the well when he slipped.  One hand clawed desperately for purchase at the top of the half-dug well when he lost his grip.

The farmer flailed helplessly as he fell, certain the well would be his tomb.  The soft earth hesitated for only a moment after his impact before it gave way completely.  He plunged into darkness and landed somewhere hard.

Johan dusted himself off.  He was still alive, if badly bruised.  He waited for his eyes to adjust to what little light shone from above.  Something was sitting, watching him from the darkness.

“Hello?” 

Johan crept cautiously forward. He could barely make out a legionnaire’s armor and headdress.  It was a style he’d never seen before. The farmer recoiled when he realized what he was looking at.

It was a corpse.  The corpse grasped a golden sword that showed no hint of decay, despite the decomposed state of its owner.  It could have been there for millennia.

On impulse, Johan took up the sword.  He could probably sell it for a pretty penny to make up for the cost of the well he could no longer dig.

A glorious light filled the cavern.  A heavenly chorus sang all around Johan.  The sound was accompanied by the appearance of a handsome warrior in golden armor, a style that matched the corpse at his feet.

Johan fell back in terror. 

“I am Gilgaaran val’Assante,” said the apparition. “For eternity I have awaited one to fulfill my duty and deliver this, the seventh blade of Dar val’Assante to the master of the val’Tensen.  You shall perform this deed so that I may forever rest in the next life at the hand of my lord, Illiir.  Rise and accept your duty.”

Johan rose.  “I will do as you ask.”


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Part 1 – The Truth is a Three-Edged Sword*

The rumblings of war again stirred the young men of Moratavia to action as Menisis val’Tensen, Defender of the Coryani Empire, roused his legions to battle.

“As if war between Ssethregore and Altheria wasn’t enough, or Canceri and the Nierites, now Milandir and Coryan are going at it?”  Kham rubbed his forehead.

“It seems that Duke Adolphos’ declaration that Precision, the ancient blade of power, was delivered to him as the rightful master of all val’Tensen has raised the Coryani General’s ire,” said Sebastian. 

The Duke’s palace occupied the highest elevation in the city and looked out upon both the city itself and the plain that made up the body of Northern Maravia.  Upon arriving at the gates, they were shown to a grand ballroom with balconies that afforded a full view of the impressive vista.

“How long are they going to make us wait here?” Sebastian said in irritation.

“Well,” said Beldin, stuffing a pastry in his mouth, “at least they’re feeding us.”

There was no shortage of comfortable seating.  Kham flopped into a chair and ordered a bottle of fine wine.  The servants moved quickly to do his bidding.

Grand double doors swung open and a procession of personages entered the room.  Standing at their center was a young man, not more than thirty-one years of age, dressed in a richly appointed and embroidered leather tunic. 

“Dressing a little warm today aren’t we?” Sebastian muttered out of the side of his mouth to Beldin.

Despite the warm weather, the man’s tunic was thickly lined with ermine.  He wore fur-lined winter gloves as well, but did not seem discomforted in the least.

“I thank you for coming at my request,” said Duke Adolphos.  “Your reputations speak well of you.  All me to introduce these here.” He nodded to his left.  “On my left is the Lady Teodora val’Borda.  To my right is Vlad Martell.  We would ask of you a small task for the benefit of my house.” 

“What can we do for you?” asked Beldin.

“Something that belongs to the val’Tensen—all val’Tensen, regardless of nation—has been lost.  I want it recovered.”

“What was stolen?” asked Sebastian.

“We do not know if it was stolen, but it is an ancient blade, forged thousands of years ago as a gift to my ancestor from the val’Assante.  It was lost until recently, when a loyal Milandisian freeman recovered it.”

Kham asked the obvious. “If you recovered it, what do you need us for?” 

“There was a bargain made with my cousin to the south. As a result, the blade was to be entrusted to an impartial body.  The Arch-Prelate of Tralia provided an escort drawn from his finest guards to deliver it, but they never arrived.”

“Why choose us?” asked Sebastian. “Why not Vlad?”

“You have no stake in this matter,” said Adolphos.  “I cannot afford to have one of my countrymen slandered by bias.”

Vlad looked distinctly uncomfortable.  He stepped forward.  “The blade was lost somewhere during the journey between here and the Citadel of Storms, three days into the Paerthians.  The honor guard, numbering ten knights, was on horseback when they disappeared.  They were last seen in the mountain hamlet of Grunlau, the last village on the way to the Citadel.”

Kham opened his mouth, but Adolphos cut him off with a gesture.

“Vlad has made it clear to me that you are mercenaries.  Beyond the gratitude of the val’Tensen family throughout Onara, I am prepared to offer each of you seven hundred and fifty crowns.  A tidy sum indeed.”

Kham closed his mouth.  “We’ll find your sword,” was all he said.


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Part 2 – Hello Darkness My Old Friend*

After a hard day’s travel, they came to the sleepy hamlet of Grunlau.  The way house there offered the last shelter and comfort for weary travelers before the arduous ascent into the high smoking peaks of the volcanic Paerthians.  

When they arrived, it was near nightfall.  They found lodging at a grungy but serviceable inn.

Kham awoke to a horrific scream.  He sat upright and looked around.  

He was on a hillock overlooking the town.  Poplars of olive and fig trees surrounded him. Creatures from twisted imaginations flew through the air. The terrain formed and reshaped itself, flowing like water, while streams of water twisted and loop through the air itself, flowing upwards then back down again.

Sebastian and Beldin sat up out of the mist nearby. 

“Where are we?” asked Sebastian uncertainly.

“The Dreamheart,” he muttered.  “Again.”

“Again?” Sebastian looked around. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I have,” said Beldin.  “Only this time no ritual put us here.”

“So that’s really you then?” Kham looked up at Beldin uncertainly.  He huge, muscular, handsome, and virile.  His eyes blazed with silvery fire and his skin was golden.  He was a god among men, an ancient titan of old, before the curse of Illiir brought the dwarves low.

“Would I look like this if it weren’t?” asked Beldin.

“Good point, I always think of you as short and hairy.”

Sebastian looked down at his hands.  “How do I look?”

Kham stared at him for a long moment.  “Like a human.”

Sebastian felt behind him for his wings and tail.  They were gone.

Kham faced them.  “Okay, be honest with me: do I look like a ghoul?”

They shook their heads.

“That’s good to know.” Kham was visibly relieved.  “I guess I really did kick the ghoul juice for good.”

Creatures appeared beyond the hillock.  They were encased in burnished bronze, with arms edged with sharp razors and the rest of its body covered in spines of different shapes and sizes.  Most striking of all was their complete lack of facial features: no eyes, nose, or mouth. Three held strange tubes with bulbous sacs dangling from them.  Three wielded double-bladed weapons, their heads fanning out like a mockery of a centurion’s crest.  The leader rode an eerily featureless horse and carried an axe with a strange bluish-black blade.

“I don’t suppose those are friendly,” Sebastian said morosely.

“They’re called k’n-yan. They’re the original inhabitants of Carcosa.” Kham cut off further questions with a shake of his head. “Don’t ask me how I know that.  I just do.”

Beldin concentrated. His axe and armor shimmered into existence.  “So that means they’re not friendly.”

The air around them was peppered with shots from the strange tubes the things carried.  

Sebastian pointed and groping yellow tentacles sprang up out of the darkness, entwining the bronze creatures. 

“Where did you learn that?” asked Kham in surprise.

“I…I don’t know,” said Sebastian.  He stared down at his hands. 

“My turn.” 

Kham concentrated and a beam of energy sliced from his forehead into the k’n-yan leader, who blocked it with a slice of its hand. 

“Well that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

The k’n-yan leader extended one palm in their direction, unleashing a cone of ice and sleet.  When Beldin looked back, Kham and Sebastian were frozen solid.

“No!” shouted Beldin.  “I will not allow you to harm them, even here…” the dwarf paused as he realized the power he wielded in the dreamscape. “And I don’t have to ...”

Beams of energy splashed against Beldin as he hunched over.  His body shuddered as it grew larger and larger.  When Beldin drew himself up to his full height, he was over sixty feet tall.

He was once again the titan of old, before the weight of the curse.  Released of his tiny, twisted form, he roared a challenge.  With great sweeps of his axe, he cleared the battlefield, smashing the little bronze figures like matchsticks.  The leader was engulfed in the shadow of Beldin’s upraised foot before it came down, flattening horse and rider alike…

Kham awoke in a pool of his own sweat.  He looked over at the bedrolls in the room.  Sebastian and Beldin were also awake, blinking in uncertainty.

“So it really was just a…” Sebastian began.  Then he stopped to focus on the something in the center of the room.

It was a bluish-black blade, the same axe that the bronze creature had wielded in their collective nightmare.


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Part 3 – A Gruesome Fate Awaits the Wicked*

Kham climbed above the town into the groves and poplar that covered the hillock. 

“Yep, just what I was afraid of,” he said.  

Sebastian looked around. “It matches the dream exactly.”

“I think a rift to Carcosa opened.”  Kham surveyed his surroundings.  “And I think my connection to that place brought us into the Dreamheart.”

Beldin pointed beyond the hillock.  “There’s a campsite on the reverse slope here.”

They came across a dire scene.  The campsite was sprayed with gore from brutally dismembered corpses.  

Kham frowned.  “Six bedrolls, but only five corpses.”

“Here’s the owner of the sixth,” said Beldin.  A hulking man, of obvious infernal taint, was curled up in a fetal position, crying like a frightened child. 

Sebastian crouched down to speak with the dark-kin.  “What happened here?”

“They are coming,” the dark-kin whispered.  “They are coming for me.  I’m as good as dead!  The bronze demons will find me…”

 “Bronze demons,” said Kham. “Like in our dreams.”

Sebastian straightened up.  “Bijoux described similar beings that overran her home world.”

“What would they want with Precision?” asked Beldin.

“It’s in the Unspeakable One’s best interests to start a war between Milandir and Coryan,” said Kham.  “Just like how he tried to use Fleshripper against me.  Speaking of which…” he nodded at Beldin’s new waraxe.  “Be careful with that thing.  Power like that comes with a price.”

Beldin snorted.  “Don’t worry about me.  I can handle Windcutter.”

Sebastian peered sideways at Beldin.  “Since when does your axe have a name?”

“I don’t know.” Beldin took a few experimental swings with it. ”But that’s its name: Windcutter.”  

“Like I said,” muttered Kham. “Be careful.”


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Part 4 – The Citadel of Storms*

As they climbed ever higher into the mountain, they passed many scenic and impressive natural formations.  The road passed by precipitous drops and crevasses.  Eventually, they reached a bend in the road that abutted a great gorge that rent the earth.  

Sebastian studied the ground.  “The tracks seem to have disappeared here.” He stood up, exasperated.  “I’m sorry, I’m not an expert tracker.”

“We’re on the right path,” said Beldin.  “We might have better luck at the Citadel of Storms.”

The Citadel of Storms stood in an unlikely position for such an august fortification.  Though unassailable due to its position in the heights of the Paerthian Peaks, its strategic value was of dubious merit.  Towering into the sky, the fortress commanded the only path to it.  Archery, artillery, spell casting platforms and sluices for boiling substances were certain to imperil an attacking army.

They were welcomed as representatives of the Duke of Moratavia and escorted into an inner chamber.  A handful of Blades of Hurrian, four in all, met them there.  

“What have you found on the path?” asked the eldest and obvious authority, Divelo Norvitecus.  “Is Precision in your care?”

“Not yet,” said Sebastian.  “We found some tracks but lost them near the gorge.”

“Interesting.  When the Arch-Prelate’s guard was overdue, we sent Claduius here to seek out signs of their passage.  He was a scout in the legions before he joined us here.”

“Great.” Kham addressed Claudius. “You’re coming with us.” 

“It is done.  Tomorrow, Claudius will go with you to see if he can find the trail of those who took Precision. But for tonight, let us dine tighter.  I apologize that the meals here are not as extravagant as you may be accustomed in the homes of princes and generals, but we fare well nonetheless.”

True to his word, they were provided with a hearty if simple fare in the keep’s great hall.  Monks surrounded them, asking them news of the outside world.

Kham peered at one of the monks.  “I know you…”

It was Oderic val’Tensen, the disgraced former Vicar of the Knights of Saint Lambertus.  “I was blinded from Hurrian’s will by my hatred of all things Nerothian and Cancer.”  He avoided looking at Sebastian.  “Hopefully, I will not be deaf when I am tested again.”

“Hopefully,” added Beldin, “our enemies will not be silent.”


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Part 5 – What, You Didn’t See This Coming?*

“The track resumes here,” said Claudius Cressius-Tensen.  “It goes into the gorge.”

They slowly and carefully climbed their way down to the bottom of the gorge.  Suddenly, Claudius shouted.  “I found it!”  He scooped something covered in mud out of the dried riverbed. 

“Put that down!” shouted a familiar booming voice.  “Drop the sword and step away from it!”

Kham closed his eyes and slowly turned around.  “I know that voice…”

“I, Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun, hereby claim Precision in the name of the Emperor!”

Quintus stood in the sunlight, resplendent in his lorica segmentata and scutum. A banner flapped from his longspear.  

“Coryani legionnaires!” shouted Sebastian.

The rest of Quintus’ contubernium joined him on the ridge: Hervius Flavinius Tranio, the legionnaire sorcerer with hair that fanned out behind like a centurion’s helmet; Oppius Camelius Rusticus, the best scout in the legions; Tertius Caprenius Augustalis, the horn blower responsible for drawing the attention of the men and issuing the audible commands of the officers; and four other milites gregarious, the foot soldiers who were vital to the contubernium.  

On the other side of the ridge, something else sparkled in the sunlight, but it was not the glint of metal.  Burnished bronze, faceless beings made their way down the slopes, similar to the nightmarish creatures with the exception of the leader.  He was a dreadful thing, with one arm tapering in a wicked scimitar-like blade, the other covered in strange overlapping scales so that it function as a shield of sorts.  The k’n-yan warlord’s body was easily as elaborate as Quintus’, and its form gave the impression that it had been grown rather than sculpted.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He pointed at the k’n-yan and clenched his fist.  “Atrum pampinea!”

A forest of squirming yellow tentacles sprung up beneath the k’n-yan, grasping them and whipping them about.  

Claudius looked between the two forces.  Then he turned to run.

“Hey!” shouted Kham.  “Get back here!”

Temporarily preoccupied, Quintus’ pointed at Claudius.  “I said HOLD!”

Claudius froze in place. 

A fusillade from the k’n-yan peppered the legionnaires, forcing them to hide behind their shields.  

Then the k’n-yan warlord was upon them.  Beldin blocked the thing’s blade-arm with Windcutter, deflecting it just in time.  

Sebastian raised a hand to cast a spell, but the k’n-yan pointed at him first.  A beam of yellow energy struck him.  The dark-kin fell to his knees.

Kham yanked Precision out of the scabbard in Claudius’ hands...and was immediately engulfed in flames.

“Yaaah!” shrieked Kham.  

The legionnaires hurled spears at the k’n-yan, who responded with sparkling yellow beams.  Both sides slowly advanced down the ridge.

Kham shoved Precision back in its scabbard, still in Claudius’ frozen grip. The flames went out. 

“Skiz!” Kham wrenched the scabbard out of Claudius’ hands.  He took off at a sprint through the riverbed, unhindered by the muck.

The rat popped out of Kham’s satchel.  “Yeah boss?”

More rays and spears arced back and forth across the ridge.  Beldin backed away as Quintus charged the k’n-yan warlord.  

“You know that collar I gave you?”

“The one that smells like angry dog?” Kham had taken the collar from Raze’s corpse, Aglamar’s hell hound pet. “I’m wearing it right now.”

Beldin picked up Sebastian.  The beams had weakened the sorcerer so much that he could barely lift his head. 

“That’s great, Skiz.” Kham kept running.  Some of the legionnaires had turned their attention to him, as did the k’n-yan.  Beams and spears struck in the muck to either side of him. “Give it to me.”

“But—“

“No buts, Skiz!  Now!”

The talking rat wriggled out of the collar by pushing on its with his forepaws.  Kham reached down and grabbed it.

It expanded to fit a human-sized neck.  He put it in.

A furrow of muck spewed up behind Kham as he accelerated far beyond normal human speeds.  He blurred in place for a moment.  Then Kham, Skiz, and Precision were long gone.


----------



## talien

*Unpaid Debts: Conclusion*

The monks were still bowing in gratitude when Beldin arrived with a limping Sebastian.

Seated at the far end of the table in the great hall, Divelos smiled.  “The Arch-Prelate of Tralia sends his utmost thanks.  Because of your heroic actions, we have forestalled the outbreak of total war by entrusting Precision to the Order of the Blade.”  He indicated his fellow monks.  “The sword will be safe here in the Citadel of Storms.”

“Heroic actions?” Beldin shook his head in disbelief.  “You left us there!”

Kham shrugged.  “I knew Quintus wouldn’t hurt you guys.  You could easily handle the k’n-yan. You even had a practice run in the Dreamheart.”

“That’s not the point,” growled Sebastian.  “We could have been killed.”

“But you weren’t.”  Kham handed each of them a bag of gold crowns, the reward from Duke Adolphos.  “More importantly, did you tell Quintus about Ilmarė?”

Sebastian nodded. “He did not take the news well.  But I think he didn’t dare say much, given that he was with his legion.  After what happened in Postrava, I can’t blame him.”

Divelos cleared his throat. “And what of Claudius?”

Sebastian and Beldin exchanged looks.  “He did not survive the battle.” In truth, Quintus had executed the man on the spot, partially in frustration for Kham getting away with the blade.  But they weren’t about to tell Divelos that.

“That is unfortunate.  Before you go, there is something you should know.  We believe that a rift south of here precipitated the arrival of the k’n-yan.  It’s a place called Nug’s Farm.  From what Kham tells us, their appearance is grim news indeed.”

Sebastian nodded.  “We will stop by there on our way to Coryan.”

“The owner of the farm is one Hillary Carbo. She may be able to—“

Kham froze.  “Who?”

“Hillary Carbo.  Do you know her?”

Sebastian suddenly leaned forward in his table to stare at Kham.  “As in the wife of Livius Carbo?”

Kham reached for a drink.  “As in the author of the King in Yellow.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 46: Nug’s Farm - Introduction*

This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure from Tatters of the King, “Nug’s Farm” by Time Wiseman, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

I love Call of Cthulhu adventures.  Although they’re often short on logic or set up, the climactic moments are unparalleled.  You just don’t get that kind of tension and excitement in most D&D games (although the Freeport series comes close).  Nug’s Farm is by far the best part of the entire adventure series.

What really made the adventure fun was the purchase of a Dark Young miniature.  Jeremy modified the Dark Young so its tentacles faced forwards instead of up, making it look far more menacing.  He also made it a disgusting pink and purple, “anime-style” as he likes to call it, so it really was hideous looking.  

As scripted, the satyrs, Atkinson, and Gresty are not meant to be fought directly.  They merely summon the Dark Young, Hillary turns it, and it kills the bad guys.  But this is D&D, so of course there had to be an opportunity to mix it up.  Converting the Dark Young’s statistics from D20 Call of Cthulhu ensured that the thing was nigh unstoppable. Between its multiple tentacle attacks, damage reduction, immunities, and strength drain, it threatened to destroy the whole party…thus making Hillary’s ritual even more exciting.

All three characters played a pivotal part in this adventure, be it Beldin acting as a whipping post for the Dark Young, Sebastian killing off the other cultists, or Kham saving the day by NOT getting caught by the Dark Young’s tentacles and finishing the ritual. This was definitely one of the highlights of our marathon post-Thanksgiving session.


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Prologue*

The weather was frigid with a dusting of frost and ice on the road and an inch or two of snow on the earth.  They passed through a couple of hamlets: Saul and Framilode.  The tiny places consisted of just a dozen or so houses each.  The buildings were old, ramshackle and low; they were built in stone and had thatched roofs and only a few small windows.  There were no shops evident and perhaps no people.  

“This reminds me of the last time the King in Yellow tried to take over Milandir,” said Kham.  

There were more villages, but oddly after Framilode, there were no more signs announcing the names of the places.  

“No road signs,” said Sebatian.

“No churches either,” added Beldin. 

There were about ten buildings in Clotton; one in moss-covered stone was much larger than the rest.  It could have been a church—indeed, there was what looked like the stump of a spire—but it was almost completely overgrown with ivy and hard to make out.  There was no sign or name by the building, and the doorway itself was barricaded with a haphazard heap of rotten timber.  

The village showed no sign of life: no people, no barking dogs, and no horses, sheep or cattle.  There was no post office and no pub.  The few cottages were ramshackle old stone affairs: some seemed to be held up by the foliage that covered them, and in one case a huge elm tree had been incorporated inside a building.  

They walked south a further mile or so on the road, where they picked up a footpath.  It led due east. The trek covered a bit more than three miles and took about an hour.  

It was cold and dreary.  The footpath rose steadily, affording a view of the forest ahead.  The Tarda River was three or four miles behind them.  

The countryside looked uncared for.  Poor fences and hedges divided the fields.  The few pieces of farm equipment they saw had been left to rust.

After another mile, there was the first evidence of life.  A little way off a dozen scrawny sheep were gathered expectantly by an empty food trough, and beside them stood a farmhand staring off into space.  

Sebastian pointed at the sheep. “That’s an interesting mark.” The underfed sheep were indelibly marked with a splash of black on their hindquarters to indicate ownership; the mark suggested the head of a bull or goat.

The farmhand didn’t see them right away. He was shabbily and inadequately dressed and carried a wooden bucket.   

“Hello?” shouted Beldin, waving to the farmhand.  

The man turned around; he was thin and ugly with big ears and protruding teeth.  He set off at a fast walk toward a collection of buildings almost lost in a fold in the ground, intermittently shaking his head.  

“What the hell is wrong with these villagers?” asked Kham. 

“I think he’s walking towards that hamlet.” 

They followed him until he went into one of the buildings and slammed the door. 

The footpath went on for another mile.  Isolated trees thickened as they approached Lower Clotton and Mercy Hill off to the north.  The path cut through a band of forest.  It was still among the trees, and there was a high, sweet smell brought by an intermittent breeze.  The footpath crossed by a stream of stagnant water and then a patch of dense, black poppies, and the wood got thicker.  It was lush with deep ferns, moss, and fungal growth.  

“Man, I wish this headache would stop.”  Kham massaged his temples.

“You feel it too?” Sebastian had one hand to his forehead. 

“Yeah, it’s a distant thrumming…like a swarm of bees.”

Beldin shushed them.  “We’re being watched.”

About fifty yards off in the trees, something peered at them through the trees.  It moved further away: at first it looked human, stripped from the waist up, but something was wrong. The man’s legs were jointed the wrong way, like an animal’s.

The trees thinned out as they passed out of the wood.  Walking down the hill, they saw the main body of the Forest of Dean.  It sent out fingers to the three farms that were dotted in a line below them.  The farm in the center looked in much better repair: there was glass in all the windows and the chimney belched smoke.

When they were still a few hundred yards off, the sound of barking was audible. Three big dogs ran outside.  A woman came out behind them, perhaps thirty years old with short blonde hair, wearing overalls, boots, gloves, and a short coat; she looked nothing like the denizens of the countryside they’d seen so far.  The dogs, bullmastiffs, ran over to her where at her word of command they became silent.  

As they came closer, the sign by the gate was legible: “Nug’s Farm.”


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Part 1 – Hillary Carbo*

Nug’s Farm was a loss-making concern and amounted to little.  There was a field or two of potatoes, cabbages, and turnips, and the kitchen garden out back had vegetables and fruits.  There were also lots of chickens, which were in coops and runs in front of the house.  

The woman took her gloves off and stuffed them into a pocket.  She had fine blonde hair and an attractive face.  Her eyes were bloodshot and her manner distracted. A farm worker was visible beside the house holding a shovel, watching.  

“Hello,” began Sebastian.  “Are you Hillary Carbo?”

“Who wants to know?” she asked, watching them closely. Her accent indicated an educated upbringing. 

“I am Sebastian Arnyal.  This is Kham val’Abebi and Beldin Soulforge.  We are investigating a disturbance near here, possibly a planar rift—“

Kham cut him off.  “We knew your husband.”

Hillary’s eyebrows shot up.  “Come in and have some tea.”

As an afterthought, she turned to the farmhand.  “That’s enough for today, Will.”  

Will didn’t reply, but simply shuffled off in the direction of Lower Clotton, seemingly uninterested in the new arrivals.

The farmhouse was a very old two-story limestone building with a newer-single story extension built onto a back corner.  The windows were small and shuttered, the ceilings and doorways were low, and the house was always dim.  In the living room, a desk was piled high with correspondence.  

“You should know that I am separated from my husband and that we are no longer on speaking terms. By your appearance here I will assume some of the things he wrote about in his rambling letters have come to fruition. How do you know him?” 

“We…” Kham fumbled.  What was he supposed to say, that they had tried to kill him?  “We met him in Vestalanium.”

Sebastian jumped in. “He seems to have penned a play that is of great interest to us: The King in Yellow.”

Hillary nodded.  “Livius was obsessed with it.  He thought The King in Yellow was an avatar of the Unspeakable One.”

They all leaned forward.  “When Livius moved to Freeport he met with someone who Atkinson had heard of as a scholar in the field.”

Kham took a sip of his tea. “Elijah Quelch.” 

“Yes.  On the Eve of the New Year 1024 Livius claimed they called the King in Yellow to Onara so that they could learn from it.  But he broke with the others after that. He believes that there are links between the Unspeakable One and Tizzhet.  It is talked of in more than one text of a union between the two, though the texts conflict over whether this will happen in the future or has already happened.  The first source says that the Dark Young came from this sire, but I think this text suspect.  The most authoritative source says that there will be a union after humanity is forgotten and that two offspring will result—one is Yeb and the other is Nug, and that Yeb and Nug will in turn produce two more entities: Leviathan and Tsathoggua.”

Kham laughed involuntarily. “Tizzhet?  Leviathan?  The gang’s all here!” The others looked at him in dismay.  “Sorry, sorry.”  Kham tried to regain his composure by slurping more of his tea. 

“You know of them?” asked Beldin.

“Tizzhet?  Oh yeah, one of her spawn tried to eat Quintus and I awhile back.  And Leviathan’s been a pain in the ass in Freeport forever.”

“Livius said he joined a circle called The Pilgrimage of Grace,” said Hillary.  “They were leaving Grand Coryan as soon as Numen or early in the New Year, although he said it could be as late as Libidine.”

Beldin took a deep breath.  “He means to summon the Unspeakable One again.”

“Did he give a name?” asked Kham.  “An address? Some way we can find him?”

“Livius did leave a name: Thomas Villiers at the shipping office of Giuseppe Colombo in the Sweet Savona.  That’s all he—“

The dogs sudden barking cut her off.


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Part 2 – Gresty’s Arrival*

The dogs barked once or twice and moved to the door, looking at Hillary.  She opened it and followed them out.

A man approached a few hundred yards off.  On the hill behind him were six other goat-like hybrids, but they stood still. The goat-men had hoof-like feet, thick hair over their lower limbs, reversed joins, and elongated skulls with recessant horns.  All of them had tufted bears and brows.

“Son of a…it’s Gresty!” Kham followed Hillary out.

Gresty was amazed to see him.  “Hello, Kham,” he said in a stilted fashion.  Gresty looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just wandering around.”  Kham shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets.  “I escaped the Hulks, jumped through a portal, ended up in Canceri, got arrested again, escaped again…you know, the usual.”

If Gresty seemed unsure as to what Kham was talking about, he hid it well. Gresty turned to greet Hillary warmly.  “Hello, Hillary. It’s good to see you.  Atkinson has told me that bad blood exists.  But it should not concern you and I: we can inherit Atkinson’s power together.”

Inside, Sebastian read from one of the papers Hillary left unattended: 


> “The Dark Young, her Thousand Children, they are scattered across the stars of the sky, and Tizzhet watches them all, cares for them.  And she screams with motherly delight as they suckle on her black, swollen paps, chew on her distended belly, gorge themselves sow-fat, pig-fat upon her flesh.”




Hillary walked forward and put her face right up to his. “I curse you all, Gresty.” Then, she whispered almost coquettishly in Gresty’s ear.

Sebastian continued to read: 


> “At Nug’s will she dwell; on the doorstep.  She will dwell there on the Goddess’ doorstep with her young. And when ripe bring them to the Moon Lens for they belong to the Great One, the Goat with A Thousand Young.  And her own Children will guard them.  Her own Children will bring her safe to her when the Goat’s dominion takes her in.  When the Goat’s forest marches.  When the Goat’s forest marches and the moon is growing full and heavy.  Then the Moon Lens will shine on the hill.  The hill will open.  And he, her servant, will come.”




Gresty looked alarmed. He scowled.  He turned without a word and stalked back the way he came up towards the other men.  

Sebastian picked up a letter and read it.



> “And Atkinson was true to his promise. He has told me of certain things when I was ready to hear them. Secrets surpassing sanity.  Commending me to an absolute cure, he has immured another soul within the black and boundless walls of that eternal asylum where stars dance maniacally like bright puppets in the silent, staring void.  And I will be truly blessed.”



As Gresty left, he turned once and yelled, “Whyever they’re here, they’re too late.  The handover is brought forward: it happens tonight.  You’d better be gone from here, woman.  All of you better be gone.  Nug’s Farm will be no more!”



> “Our brethren may walk of the Father who measurement is eight and twenty, and four hundred. Some have special fear for the one behind the wall.  But all must bow before She who is the Black Goat of the Woods, numbered three and seven hundred, the Queen, the Mother, with her Thousand Dark Young.  All must bow down as our fathers did, and their fathers did.  As our sons will do, as their sons will do.”



Hillary turned and stormed inside the house—the dogs followed, made nervous by her mood.  Sebastian quickly shoved the book, titled “The Revelations of Glaaki,” back into the pile of correspondence on Hillary’s desk. 

A few seconds later, Hillary left the house again with an armful of papers.  She carried them to a large brazier that smoldered near the door and stuffed them in. They caught fire.

“Help me, damn it!” she shouted.  “When Gresty and Atkinson come back, there must be nothing for them to take!”

Sebastian came outside.  “This isn’t the way. Please, let us help you.”

Hillary held herself for a long moment.  She seemed to be mulling something over.  

“Come inside,” she said.  “And I will tell you the whole story.”


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Part 3 – Livius’ Letters and a Decision*

“I married Livius Carbo years ago,” said Hillary. “We shortly moved to this farm and had a daughter.  It was the same year Livius left me.  I have lived here ever since.  When Livius left, Atkinson came to the farm.  He told me that I was special, that this place had been waiting for me, and that he would train me and make me his priestess.  Despite my revulsion, I was drawn to his power and secrets.  With the knowledge he passed on, my own love of this ancient countryside grew; I could not bear to be apart from my farm, the bleak wood—they are beautiful, and they speak to me.”

Beldin nodded.  “I can understand the appeal.  It’s much the same way dwarves are drawn to the Heartstone gems of their enclaves.”

“For four years, that’s how it went.  I learned fast and grew in stature in the cult.  Though I would not submit to Atkinson’s advances, the two of us and Sarah made a family.  But Atkinson presumed too much.  One day, I came upon him teaching my four-year-old daughter about Tizzhet.  Later, I saw her moved her hand in a clumsy approximation of the Yellow Sign.  I said nothing then, but I knew I had to stop him.  I could never forget how Livius had abandoned us—I was determined not do the same to my daughter.”

Sebastian looked at Kham, but the val refused to return his gaze.  They both knew what it was like to lose a father.

“I smuggled Sarah away.  When Atkinson raged and demanded her return, I stood up to him.  The old man couldn’t face me.  Humiliated, he crept back to Lower Clotton—the power had already moved on, even before his death.  I knew I didn’t need to risk a fight in front of all, for Atkinson is old.”

“Making you the high priestess of the Tizzhet cult,” said Sebastian.

Hillary nodded. “Now that the cult is almost mine, I have half a mind to destroy it. I’ve had almost no contact with Atkinson for more than a year.  What little there was happened through Atkinson’s emissaries begging for me to reconsider and reconcile.  The cult themselves are too scared to question the old man openly.”

“I met Gresty in Freeport,” said Kham.  “He led me to Michael Coombs as well as Elijah Quelch.  I think there was some falling out between the two cults.  Gresty talked a lot about taking over some sort of power.”

“As Atkinson’s position weakens, I suspect he now wants Wilfred Gresty as his successor,” said Hillary. “By his appearance today, I was right. I know that the Unspeakable One is close to Onara—some of the cult feel that he will arrive here in Goatswood to copulate with Tizzhet—and that Livius is probably right in all he says.”

A clock bonged three times.  

“I recommend you leave now.  If you choose to stay, you must agree to do what I say.  If you listen to me, you should be safe…but if not, it could be that none of us will survive.” She raised her voice a bit, obviously tense and scared. The dogs growled.  “Your help may be hard, but it will be necessary.  Atkinson and Gresty will come around midnight.”

“We’re staying,” said Kham.  “I haven’t crashed a wedding in awhile.”


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Part 4 – The Lull Before the Attack*

Hillary did nothing to prepare.  There was only one minor incident in the afternoon.  

Hillary’s farm worker, Will, and five other local men approached the house.  They carried various implements: a sickle, hoes, and pitchforks.  Hillary seemed a little surprised but unconcerned.  She walked forward alone to greet them.  

“I don’t need your help,” she said. “No.  I have help.” 

There were murmurs in reply.  

“Yes, I know where you stand and so will Atkinson if you stay here.  And Gresty.” 

More murmurs.  

“No. I can’t take it.  Go on.  Go on, Will, take them away.  Go on. All of you, go on.”

They shambled off.  She stood where she was for another minute, looking away from the house and watching the men’s backs. When she turned, it looked as if she’d been crying.

When she came back inside, Hillary made a simple supper: bread, cheese, and fruit.  Time passed

Finally, the dogs gave warning again.  It was midnight.

From the cottage window, you a bonfire was visible in the woods.  Figures danced and jumped in front of it.  Voices were raised in song.  One of the goat-men committed suicide by jumping directly into the bonfire.

There was a pause.

Hillary looked up, her face was set.  “It’s time to go outside.”


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Part 5 – The Attack*

Hillary shut the dogs in, though they were frantic to go with her. They went outside to face Gresty and Atkinson.

Atkinson was an emaciated old man, with gray, heavily wrinkled skin, a scruffy white beard on his chin, and a toothless mouth.  Gresty looked much as he had when Kham last saw him; thin, with a small belly that jutted out around his trousers.  He had a wild head of gray-brown coarse hair, a scrubby beard and mustache, and very protuberant ears. 

Hillary whispered something inaudible.  She pointed at the collected goat-men and their cultist masters. 

The area surrounding the goat-men was shot through with sheets of roaring flame.  The goat-men reeled, screaming and running in different directions as their fur caught on fire. Gresty and Atkinson seemed to find it amusing. 

“Why are they laughing?” asked Kham.

Beldin stood his ground in front of them.  “Let them come.”

Gresty pointed at Hillary.  She clutched her throat, unable to speak. 

“That’s it.” Sebastian raised his hands.  “I’m putting an end to this—“

“No, wait!” shouted Kham.  But it was too late.

“Incendiaries globus!”

A ball of fire engulfed the goat-men, Gresty, and Atkinson.  The flames left blackened husks.  Only Atkinson still stood. Surrounded by blackened earth, he looked like a lord of hell. 

And Atkinson kept laughing.

“Why is he laughing?” asked Beldin. 

“I was trying to tell you before they silenced me,” said Hillary.  “Those are the Blessed.  They are holy to Tizzhet.  And Atkinson sacrificed one in a bonfire.  I didn’t realize it until I burned them. That’s why Atkinson sent them ahead!  He WANTED us to sacrifice them.” She cursed. 

In a flash, Kham had his pistols out.  He fired at Atkinson, but the old man merely held up a hand.  The bullet bounced off of his open palm. 

“Why would he want to sacrifice his own people?” asked Beldin.

Kham fired again.  Atkinson deflected the shot. 

“To summon something more powerful,” Sebastian said morosely.  

The ground shook and there was a horrible stench—like rancid meat.  

“Oh, no,” said Hillary.  She pointed in the direction of the noise. Against the black of the night something even blacker was visible.  

“What the hell is that?” asked Kham.

It was as big as a house.  A massive, twined shifted body on squat legs.  High above the thing there was movement, like trees that were not there a moment before. The upper half whipped frantically, as though in great pain.  Somewhere in the body below, a mouth smacked open and spewed out a stream of filthy green ichor.  

“One of Tizzhet’s Dark Young!”

The thing roared from multiple mouths and, on three stumpy legs, barreled forward.  The tentacles reached down from the darkness, whip-cracking as they moved.  Beldin dove to the side as it nearly trampled him.

“Get back!” the dwarf shouted.  Before he could rise to his feet, a tentacle snapped out and wrapped around Beldin’s leg.  It yanked him into the air.

Sebastian pointed at the Dark Young.  “Radius Incensio!” 

Spiraling gouts of fire blasted into the Dark Young, dissipating harmlessly.  

The Dark Young’s tentacle dipped Beldin into one of its many mouths, slurping on him with its vile lips.  The dwarf screamed and writhed in horror.

“Kham!” shouted Hillary.

Kham concentrated.  A moment later, Beldin was slumped, unconscious, where Kham had been.  His body was covered with dozens of sucker-like sores. 

Kham slipped out of the tentacles of the Dark Young and rolled to his feet.  The thing bellowed in frustration.

Sebastian lifted his arms. “Mulimodis Oris!”  

Three ghostly pairs of vicious jaws flew out from the folds of his robes.  The jaws snapped and bit at the Dark Young’s tentacles.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this thing busy!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Quickly,” Hillary shouted to Kham, “grab four chickens from the coops and hold them upside down by the legs in front of you.”

Kham ran over to the coops and dragged four cages over. Hillary produced a long knife in front of her. 

“Hold it up!” 

Kham grabbed a struggling chicken out of its cage.  

“Ishniggarah!”  Hillary slashed precisely at one bird, wounding it fatally.  “Say it” she shouted.  “Help me!  Say it!”

“Ishniggarah,” said Kham.  “Are we performing some kind of ritual?”

The Dark Young roared and took a few steps forward.  Sebastian pointed an extended finger: “Incendiaries globus!”

A pea-sized ball of fire transformed into a conflagration, engulfing the Dark Young. Kham procured another bird.

“The Black Mouth!”  The knife slit a second bird.  Both chickens were still alive.  A deep, regular noise was now audible, getting louder.  “Repeat it!” said Hillary.

“The Black Mouth!” shouted Kham.

The Dark Young stepped out of the fires, completely unharmed.  Tentacles shot towards Sebastian.  He rolled to the side and came up again. Kham took out a third chicken.

“The Black Tongue!” Hillary struck the third chicken with a ritual flourish.  Blood from all three chickens splashed out over Kham’s hands and arms; they were still alive and flailing.

“The Black Tongue!” shouted Kham.

The ground trembled.  Sebastian pointed at the abomination. “Magicus telum!” 

Dark blue bolts of energy thudded into the thing, and still it kept coming. Kham brought out the final chicken.

“The Black Lip!” The fourth bird was slashed.  The chickens struggled weakly.  

“The Black Lip!” recited Kham.

A tentacle shot out and grabbed Sebastian by both arms.  The Dark Young yanked him forward, dragging him along the ground towards it.  Sebastian screamed.

Kham hesitated, torn between completing the ritual and helping his friend.

“Keep those birds there!” shouted Hillary. ”Stand still!”

It was unclear whether the last command was targeted at Kham or at the Dark Young, for she had whirled to face it.  The terrified chickens still in their coops added to the cacophony of the dying ones.  The dogs howled madly from the house.

Hillary stood tall, reaching towards the thing.  She issued a challenge.  

“Ishnigarrah!  Utug Xul!” 

Hillary immediately whirled back to the chickens and killed them: one, two, three, four, with sweeping forehand and backhand slashes.  She turned again to face the Dark Young and took two steps toward it.

“You will kill the one who summoned you,” she spoke quietly, coldly, pointing at Atkinson. “Then you will go back to your Mother to draw on her teat.”  She spat.  

The thing turned with a great stamping, and headed back off towards Atkinson.  Its noise diminished but then was counterpointed by Atkinson’s distant screams of fear and pain.

Hillary didn’t stop to listen, covered in blood and completely transported; even the dogs slunk away as she reentered the house.


----------



## talien

*Nug's Farm: Conclusion*

In the morning, Hillary was quiet but thankful.  

“I don’t want to talk about what happened last night,” she said.  “Let’s just say it was the child of the mother.  You must leave now.”

“We will,” said Sebastian.  Like Beldin, he had terrible bruises where the tentacles had touched him.  Still, Hillary’s magic was considerable, and they had recovered quickly.  “We’re heading to Coryan next.”

“It seems you have a hard task ahead of you,” said Hillary quietly. “If you find Livius, please let him know that Sarah will grow up to love her father.”

On the walk to the road, the countryside was as quiet as before.  They reached Clotton without being challenged.  

On the street, a small goat-faced boy, five or six years old, was playing with a red ball.  

The ball rolled over to Sebastian.  He kneeled down to hand it back.

The boy came over to Sebastian without any fear.  As he took it back, a barking shout from one of the decrepit houses had him running inside.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 47: And Madness Followed - Introduction*

This is a Dungeon adventure, “And Madness Followed” by Matthew Hope, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

I couldn’t believe that someone beat me to the punch: I was going to submit my own King in Yellow-themed adventure to Dungeon magazine.  When I found out that Matthew Hope had written one already, I had to have it.

I was not disappointed.  Similar to Herald of the Yellow King, this adventure follows performers in three acts, with a climactic battle at the end.  Even better, this adventure provides official rules on the Yellow Sign, the Pallid Mask, and what happens when you witness a performance of The King in Yellow.  It also explicitly ties the Far Realm to Carcosa, something I was doing already.

That said, there were still some tweaks I needed to make.  The identity of two performers was changed to further involve the characters in the plot and wrap up some loose ends.  The wystes (from Monster Manual II, which I don’t have) were replaced with pseudonatural chuuls; you may remember them as the “immature form of the Spawn of Hastur” from Herald of the Yellow King. I changed the “Carcosan bats” that one of the performers summons to what they’re really supposed to be: byakhee.  And the big bad monster at the end…well, you’ll have to read to find out.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Prologue*

The village of Hallowfeld was cradled in a rustic stretch of farmland, where the rolling hills and tall grasses occasionally gave way to a small hamlet or village.  

“You know, we could get there a lot faster if you didn’t have such a problem with horses,” Kham grumbled.

“It’s the other way around,” Sebastian said morosely.  “They have a problem with me.”

“Whatever.  My feet hurt.”

As they entered town, none of the usual sounds associated with a village greeted them.  All that remained were a few buildings around what used to be the community center. Many buildings were burnt partially or completely, and terrific bloodstains marred the streets and remaining facades.

Beldin took out his axe and shield. “This looks familiar.”

Kham drew his pistols.  “No, THAT looks familiar.”  He pointed with one pistol.

A strange and unsettling mark was on one wall of the town’s general store.  It was made in yellow paint and depicted a strange rune of three hooked arms around a circle.  

“The Yellow Sign,” said Sebastian.  “Damn it, it’s spreading again!”

“Shh!” said Beldin.  “Did you hear that?”

They all strained to listen.  There were strange noises coming from the buildings—sounds of feet dragging across floorboards, a curious heavy breathing laced with a strange hissing, and an unnerving sloshing and slurping. 

“Ah, crap,” was all Kham got out before things burst from every door and window surrounding them.  

The villagers had been transformed into near-mindless mockeries of their former selves.  Their skin was a pale white, with a yellowish tint that seemed almost luminescent.  Their flesh was rubbery and soft, and their forms lacked any rigidity or apparent skeletal structure.  In place of heads were nests of writhing pseudopods and delicate pale feelers. They were all armed with pitchforks.

Kham turned and fired both pistols.  Two of the things collapsed. 

“Radius Incensio!” Sebastian pointed at two of the things. Two streams of flame blasted into the villagers, turning melting them into yellow puddles. 

Beldin hacked one of the villagers down before it could react, then spun in a vicious arc that disemboweled the other. 

The things never had a chance.

“Nice shooting,” said Kham.

Sebastian’s fingers trailed smoke.  He blew on them.  “Nice shooting yourself.”

“Look there.”  Beldin pointed at a large manor house that overlooked the village. It was untouched by whatever had ravaged the village.

“Great.” Kham sighed and reloaded his pistols. “Well, I did say I wanted a place to rest.”

He holstered his pistols and strode towards the manor.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 1a – Telthin Manor*

Kham let Skiz out of his satchel and together they explored the place, room by room.  Sebastian and Beldin stood at the doorway, watchful for any signs of intruders and listening for Kham’s usual cry for help: gunshots.

“Anything?” 

Kham looked up from rifling through a collection of notes.  Written in a cramped, spidery script, it mentioned the “true nature of reality.” The pages mentioned the author’s belief that reality was an illusion and his desire to strip the illusion away from the world so that he too could experience the truth of life.

Skiz, Kham’s talking rat, stood up on his hind legs in the doorway.  “Well, boss, I found something written by a girl.”

Kham arched an eyebrow.  “How can you tell?”

Skizz sniffed the air for a second.  “Well, it doesn’t smell like the owner of this place.  He smells like old, wet paper.”

“Show me.”

The rat bounded off with Kham close behind.  They went up a winding staircase to one of the four bedrooms.  It was the master bedroom, and judging by its decor it was used by a woman.  

Skiz bounded up onto a chair and then onto a desk.  He plopped one pink paw on a stack of parchment. 

Kham picked it up and flipped through the pages.  “This looks like a long list.  And there are check marks next to four-dozen of them. There’s also a note on the bottom: likely not enough people—Lamid, perhaps?”

“A list, boss?  For what?”

Kham’s expression darkened.  “I know exactly what it’s for.  Whoever wrote this is looking to summon the King in Yellow by showing it to a large crowd.”

Skiz froze.  He cocked his head.  

“What?”

“I think I heard something in the attic, boss.” He sniffed the air.  “It’s a girl.”

“How do you know…never mind, I don’t want to know.”  

He peered into the bedroom’s closet.  A ladder led up to a trapdoor. 

Kham drew his pistols.  “Stay down here.” Then he slowly climbed up the creaking ladder.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Follow: Part 1b – Telthin Manor*

Kham crept his way into the attic.  A woman was on the other side, scrambling backwards as fast she could.

“Hey, easy, easy.  I’m not here to hurt you.”

The woman’s clothes were torn and spattered with dirt and blood.  Long dark hair hung limply across her dirty face.

“The monsters came!” she shrieked. “They changed my friends!” 

“Calm down.” Kham put one hand out, palm down, in a gesture of peace. “Those things won’t bother you any more. Here, this might help.”

He tossed her a wineskin. After staring at him with wide eyes, she slurped thirstily from its contents.  When she finally wiped her mouth, she had calmed down. 

“Somebody up there, boss?” shouted Skiz.

“Uh, yeah.  Why don’t you stay downstairs for the moment while I talk to this very edgy woman who doesn’t need to be further frightened by anything out of the ordinary.”

“Oh.  Gotcha.”

Kham turned back to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Maegen,” she said in a quiet voice.  “Maegen Brimworth.”

Kham crouched down on his heels. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

“Silas took up three guests over the last few months.  They were going to aid him in putting on a new play—“

”Did you say Silas? Silas Fedders?”

“You know him?”

Kham frowned.  “Unfortunately, yes.” He recounted the events when they had last met.  “Damn it!  That means Silas was really behind…” he stopped speaking when he saw Maegen was watching him intensely.  “Sorry, go on.”

“The premiere performance was to take place here in Hallowfeld, but I arrived late.  Thank Illiir!”

“Let’s get you out of this place, hmm?  Do you have relatives anywhere nearby?”

“Lamid,” she said hesitantly.

“Great,” said Kham. “Well, uh…” he reconsidered. “We’ll escort you there. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you when you arrive.”

The girl nodded as Kham ushered her down the steps.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 1c – Telthin Manor*

Sebastian and Beldin were waiting for Kham when he came back out of the manor with Maegen. 

“Typical.”  Sebastian’s hands were on his hips.  “You walk into a place looking for a bed and you walk out with a woman.”

Kham shrugged.  “That’s usually your line.  This is Maegen.  Maegen, this is Sebastian and Beldin.”

The woman responded by shrieking at the top of her lungs. 

“That’s not quite the greeting I expected,” muttered Beldin.

They followed her terrified gaze to two lobster-like things crawling their way around the buildings.  Upon hearing her scream, the creatures turned to face them.

“I’ve seen these things before.” Kham took aim at one of them.  “Unfortunately, we’re not standing over a frozen river this time.” 

The light reflected off the creatures’ mottled carapaces.  Their small dark eyes fixed on them with a hungry stare; the tentacles that dripped from their mouths squirmed excitedly as they scuttled closer.

Maegen shrieked and ran in the other direction.  Sebastian moved to stop her.

“Let her go,” said Beldin.  “We’ve got bigger problems.”

Kham took aim. A pistol kicked, but the bullet ricocheted off the thing’s mottled carapace. 

“Well, that’s all I got.”

Sebastian stepped backward as Beldin charged forward.  “I think I can do better,” said the dark-kin. “Mulimodis Oris!”  

Three ghostly pairs of vicious jaws flew out from the folds of his robes.  The jaws snapped and bit at the first crustacean, stopping it in its tracks.

Beldin leaped into the air towards the second thing with his axe high overhead. He came down on one of the thing’s claws, cracking it open.  Black ichor spurted upwards.  

Kham fired another of his pistols.  “Skiz, reload.” 

He reached into his satchel and drew forth another pair of pistols, dropping the spent ones into the magical container along with his pet talking rat. 

“What’s with the teeth and the tentacles?” asked Kham nervously.  “You’re not going all Carcosa on me, are you?”

Sebastian was concentrating on keeping the first thing at bay, mentally directing the first two pairs of ghostly jaws to keep the beast busy; whenever he found an opening, the third pair struck and bit into the armored beast.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a new perspective,” said Sebastian.

A huge claw snapped at Beldin, but he batted it away with his shield. 

Kham fired twice, this time aiming for the tentacles.  He blasted one right off, and this time the crustacean under Sebastian’s magical attack reacted with a squeal.  

“Be careful of the tentacles, Beldin, they cause—“

Beldin hacked away one claw and beat aside the other with his shield, giving a clear view of the creature’s maw.  Then a net of dripping tentacles exploded onto him, encircling his arms and legs and lifting him up.  Beldin went rigid.

“Paralysis,” finished Kham. He holstered his pistols and drew his scimitar and dagger.  

“What are you doing?” asked Sebastian out of the corner of his mouth.

“Saving the dwarf.  Stay here.”

Kham focused.  His eyes burned like points of silver fire.  And suddenly it was he in the tentacles and Beldin slumped next to Sebastian.

“Hi,” said Kham.  His ring prevented the tentacles from grabbing him, causing him to slip to the ground.  With a quick spin, Kham snapped his blades in a downwards arc, hacking through the tentacles.  The crustacean screeched in pain. 

It reached forward with both pincers to grab Kham, but the val was as slippery as an eel.  He hopped backwards as it snapped at him in frustration…

Only to be struck by the other crustacean from behind.  Although they couldn’t grab him, they could certainly hurt him.  The shadow of the thing loomed over him and all he could see were pink tentacles. 

“Radius Incensio!” 

Flames struck the crustacean full in the face. It fell backwards, the ruins of its head still smoldering. 

Kham scrambled to his feet.  “Well, I’m glad that’s—“

The second one lurched forward, claws snapping for Kham’s face.  It collapsed before Kham, Beldin’s axe protruding from the back of its hunched head. 

Beldin licked his lips.  “Anyone else hungry for lobster?”

Sebastian and Kham shuddered.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 2a – Lamid*

The journey from Hallowfeld to Lamid was short and uneventful, just over a day’s travel on foot.  By the time they arrived, the town was in total chaos.

Most of the town’s inhabitants remained huddled in their homes and no businesses were open.  A large crowd of conscripted townsfolk gathered outside the barricade erected in the center of town.  

“The villages said Constable Radcliff was the man in charge,” said Sebastian.  “Hopefully, he can tell us more about what happened here. 

As they worked their way through town, empty shops and closed shutters were everywhere. Kham reached down to pick up a piece of litter tumbling along the street.  

“I already know what happened here.”  He showed Sebastian the paper.  It read:


> Premiere Engagement!
> 
> ONE NIGHT ONLY AT THE LAMID AMPHITHEATER
> 
> ANULEE GALEN
> AND THE KING’S PLAYERS PRESENT
> 
> THE KING IN YELLOW
> 
> Performance Begins at Dusk​




“Oh no,” said Beldin.  “Not Anulee.”

The sounds of screams and cries brought them to the edge of the town square, where one man was clearly in charge.

Constable Colbert Radcliff was a middle-aged man that stood just under six feet tall with short, light-brown hair.  He was surrounded by dozens of frightened conscripts, men and women standing guard at a barricade of wagons, creates, rubble, and lumber that blocked the street into the town commons.  From beyond the barricade came the sound of strange gibbering cries. 

“The King came for us all and he granted us the wisdom of Carcosa!” someone shouted.

“We’ve been sent on behalf of the Coryan military.” Sebastian was becoming quite adept at telling white lies.  “What happened here?”

The Constable kept one eye on the barricade.  “Last night, a special performance of Anulee Galen’s new play turned to madness.  No one knows exactly what happened, although about an hour after dark there was a tremendous flash of nauseating yellow light and the strange sound of rushing water.  Almost immediately thereafter, the screams began.”

“Was Silas Fedders with them?” asked Kham.

“I’m not sure.  By the time I arrived with the militia, those unfortunate enough to be caught in the town commons were either dead or had joined the mob.  We erected barricades, but the militia took heavy losses.”

“The Harbinger brought us gifts from the King in Yellow!” someone shouted.

“Will you SHUT UP!” Kham shouted back.

“I think that’s the mayor,” said Radcliff.  “That’s his voice.”

“The mayor of Crazytown,” said Kham. They crossed the barricade.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 2b – Lamid*

Once they entered the town commons, things took a turn for the worse.  Within, buildings were vandalized, signs and doors torn down, lanterns smashed on the cobblestones, and litter strewn throughout.  Worst was the bodies.  Dozens lay dead in various states of wholeness.  Body parts lay in gutters or hung from broken windows.  Corpses festered in tangled heaps, in many cases bearing signs of cannibalism.  

Beldin peered into a ruined building.  The dark shadow of a tentacled thing was hunched over something red and wet.  

The amphitheater itself was in ruins.  Seats were torn apart and bodies lay strewn everywhere.  The central stage was recessed into the ground and it was filled with brackish, bloody water in which more corpses floated.  Here and there, the Yellow Sign glared from buildings and walls, applied with yellow paint in some cases, blood in others, and still others crudely carved into wooden walls by knives or fingernails. 

Down in the amphitheater, standing in fouled water up to his knees, was the mayor.  He ranted and raved, pacing violently around the flooded center of the amphitheater, waving his arms and frothing at the mouth. 

“He chose some, they are his children now!” he shouted. 

“Get ready.”  Kham had his pistols out.

As they stepped into the town square, a mob of screeching and wailing monstrosities surged out of the alleyways and shop fronts on the opposite side of the town square.

“Incendiaries globus!”

The mob was struck by a massive inferno, tossing transformed villagers in all directions.  The crowd was temporarily parted.  A lone figure was visible on the other side of the crowd, almost as if it were directing their motions.  It was short and stocky, its dwarven heritage mocked by the atrocious tentacles that writhed from its torso and mouth.  One rubbery hand gripped a wicked axe, its edge caked with gore.

“No!” shouted Beldin.  “Not a dwarf!”  

“Beldin, wait!” shouted Sebastian. But it was too late. Beldin charged forward and the crowd surged behind him, cutting him off.

Beldin blocked the former dwarf’s axe as it struck viciously at his face.  Tentacles whipped from its mouth, snaking around Beldin.

“You were a dwarf once,” said Beldin.  There was gunfire and explosion behind them as Kham and Sebastian kept the villagers busy. “Do not let the King in Yellow’s madness take you, my brother.”

The thing’s tentacles twitched.  It hesitated. A tentacle snapped its soulstone from around the thing’s throat and tossed it at the feet of Beldin.  

“Hheeeelllp mmeeeeee,” it rasped.

Beldin knew what to do. “Be at peace, my brother.”

He brought his axe down, shattering the soulstone into a thousand pieces.  

When Kham and Sebastian finally cleared the remaining transformed villagers, Beldin was still there, mourning the loss of a Celestial Giant.

“Beldin, we have to go,” said Sebastian.

Beldin didn’t move.

“The Constable asked around,” said Kham.  “The King’s Players left town last night with their gear and props.  And they were headed for Sweet Savona.”


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 3a – Sweet Savona*

Sweet Savona was just twenty miles away from Lamid.  Savona was built upon two hundred and eighteen individual islands, interconnected by a spider web of walkways and bridges. Its most prominent feature was the many stepped ziggurat temple of Larissa.  Easily the tallest structure in Savona, the temple was normally vibrant and bustling with many worshipers. 

Numerous flyers were posted on lampposts, tavern doors, and fences throughout Savona, announcing the premiere of a new play by Anulee.  

Kham snatched one off a door.  “They’re at the Legion Playhouse. I know where that is.”

The Legion Playhouse was a large wood and stone building located in Savona’s center.  Its tall, gothic roof loomed over dark alleys to either side, its façade giving it the feel of a place of worship rather than a theater.  

“There’s a door around back.” Kham led them around the side of the building to a smaller door at the end of a narrow alleyway.

“How do you know that?” asked Sebastian suspiciously.

Kham twisted the hilt of one of his many knives.  Lock picks sprung out. “Are you going to ask questions or you going to help me stop the play?” Kham fiddled with the lock for a full minute.  “Sarish’s ass!” he finaly muttered in frustration.  

There was a quiet bonging noise.  Sebastian rang a small gong and the door unlocked.

“Nice trick,” said Kham.  “Don’t start horning in on my turf or I might just start casting spells.”

Sebastian smirked.  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Beldin pushed the door open into an empty dressing room.  A black curtain hung before them.  Beldin hacked it aside with his axe.

The stage had been decorated to resemble a great throne room.  At center was a looming throne of sickening yellow-green stone gilt with gold runes, some of which writhed and twitched.  A colonnade of pillars rose behind the throne, beyond which was an amazingly realistic backdrop that looked out over an alien city of spires and domes.  The dark waters of a lake dominated the horizon, and strange moons glowed in the skies above. 

On stage, four figures were visible.  Their voices echoed throughout the hall, reverberating off the walls in a strangely hypnotic cadence. On the throne was seated the titular king in the play, a figured dressed in tattered yellow robes that concealed the actor’s face and body completely.  He watched quietly as he gaze upon a figure seated before him, perhaps a prisoner.  

“Silas,” whispered Kham. “That’s got to be him.”

The actor was an attractive young woman. She wore pigtails and a form-fitting suit of chainmail; in one hand was a long whip made of what looked like a braided length of blonde hair that ended in a cruel razor-edged hook.  To either side of the throne stood the remaining two actors.  One was a lean, muscled Altherian with an expression of contempt on his chiseled features.  He wore a chain shirt and held a scimitar before him. 

The fourth figure wore a yellow-green robe and revealing clothes.  In her hands she wielded a long, gnarled quarterstaff.  Her face was hidden behind a pallid mask.  Although she wore a mask, her voice was clear, and the lips on the mask moved to match her words.

“Anulee,” Sebastian said with a hint of pity in his voice.

She turned to face them.  They clearly didn’t belong on the stage.

“Strange is the night where black stars rise, 
and strange moons circle through the skies,
but stranger still is Lost Carcosa!”

“Your mind tricks won’t work on me,” Sebastian said, raising his hands, “but I can put a stop—Beldin, what are you doing?”

Beldin was walking mechanically off stage to join the audience.  They sat, rapt, a full house of silence, as all eyes remained fixated on the performance.

“Beldin snap out of it!” shouted Kham. He pointed his pistols at the performers.  “I’ve seen this play before.  The ending sucks.”

Several things happened at once.  Anulee took a step backwards.  The woman cracked her whip, whipping it over her head.  The Altherian drank a potion.  And the King in Yellow cast a spell, but it was an all too human voice that said “bardus!”

Kham and Sebastian felt a tingling in their limbs, but it passed just as quickly.

“Beldin!” shouted Kham.  “Get up!” He fired one pistol and the woman with the whip fell backwards.  He fired another and a red stain appeared in the King in Yellow’s robes. 

“Incendiaries globus!” responded Sebastian. 

The entire stage burst into flames.  The audience finally snapped out of it, screaming and running for the exits.  The actor dressed in the King in Yellow flailed about, consumed by his own flammable clothing.

Two byakhee popped into existence above them.  One reared its head back to ravage Sebastian, but a blow from Beldin’s axe stopped it in mid-bite. The thing screeched and whipped its head around to face Beldin.

“Enjoy the view?” asked Kham.

He drew his scimitar and dagger to face the second byakhee.  He blocked one of its attacks by slashing upwards with Talon, severing two of its claws.

Sebastian pointed at Anulee.  “I’m sorry, Anulee,” he whispered.

The pallid mask turned to face him, expressionless.  

“Radius Incensio!” 

The flames blasted into her, knocking Anulee to the ground.  

The shrieks of wounded byakhee behind Sebastian convinced him he didn’t have to worry about them.  He walked over to her corpse.

Anulee’s face was hidden behind a feminine porcelain mask, the brow of which bore the all-too-familiar Yellow Sign.  

“I doomed you to something far worse than death,” whispered Sebastian. He reached for the mask to remove it. A slow spider web of cracks appeared around the mouth, a jester’s grin.

Sebastian recoiled as beams of yellow light appeared in the cracks.  Then the whole mask and what remained of Anulee’s head became a beacon of nauseating yellow light.  A malignant portal tore through the stage area, momentarily obscuring the stage with a vision of a vast lake.  At the far side of the lake rose the strange, alien towers of Carcosa, and beyond that spanned a gulf of alien stars and unknown moons and suns.

An instant later, the waters of the Lake of Hali rushed into the playhouse. And from the depths of the lake, something arose that Kham had seen before.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Part 3b – Sweet Savona*

The bulbous head of what might have been a jellyfish crested the waters.  A huge sac, rippling and throbbing and flecked with light, moved squid-like, pulling itself through the air by long, groping tentacles that sawed on the wind.  

“Run!” shouted Kham. 

“But—“ Sebastian didn’t finish as Kham turned him and shoved hard.

“RUN!”

Beldin turned to face it.  Tentacles lifted him like a rag doll and tossed him through the air, smashing him into seats in the audience.  

Sebastian ran.  They ran right through the small doorway, out of the alleyway.  The thing blasted through the wall, floating without any means to support itself.  It drifted forward, smashing aside buildings as if they were irritating scrub.

Kham turned and fired two pistols at it, but they did nothing.  He slipped in the waters that had spilled out into the street.  The thing loomed, pulsing with a sickly green color, its translucent tentacles reaching for him…

The water that was flowing around Kham suddenly reversed.  It streamed past him, a reverse waterfall sloshing its way back towards the Legion Playhouse.  

“The portal!” shouted Sebastian, somewhere behind him.  “It’s reversing!”

The thing dug its tentacles into the earth.  Great mounds of cobblestone exploded as it anchored itself.  It was not leaving without a fight.

“Skiz!” shouted Kham.  “Pistols!”

Two pistols shoved their way out of Kham’s satchel.  He pulled them out and aimed at each one of the tentacles.

“Say hi to the King for me!” 

Both pistols discharged.  The severed tentacles twitched wildly as ichor sprayed from the stumps.  

The sac-like thing was yanked back with a force that even it could not resist.  It was dragged back through the alley, back to the stage, and back to the portal that had formed from Anulee’s mask.  With a slurping pop, the entire thing was sucked back to whence it came, water and all.

Beldin came limping up the stage as Sebastian and Kham, caked with mud and blood, made their way back into the Legion Theatre. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Beldin.

“You don’t want to know,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*And Madness Followed: Conclusion*

Kham threw back the mask of the King in Yellow.  Blackened flesh blurred some of the actor’s features, but it was undeniably Silas Fedders. 

“Damn it.”  Kham shook his head.  “Damn it all to hell.”

“What?” asked Sebastian.

“This is Silas Fedders,” said Kham, nudging the corpse with one foot.  “Adolphos val’Tensen’s court wizard.  When we were traveling through the Dreamheart to get rid of Fleshripper, we ended up in Kadath, the prison of the Unspeakable One.  Silas told us he knew how to get us out, but I think…” Kham looked around at the devastation.  “I think he tricked us into letting the King in Yellow out instead.”

Beldin put one hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  It could have been much, much worse.”

Sebastian was standing over the spot where Anulee’s body had once been.  “The portal took Anulee’s corpse, but left her equipment.  It’s almost as if it absorbed her soul.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Beldin.  “The elorii believe souls are reincarnated in new bodies. Somewhere, Anulee is being born again.”

“Anulee was a good person. She just lost her way.” Sebastian made a Canceri sign with his hands. “May the light of wisdom shine brighter on your new path, child of Osalian.”  It was the closest thing to a burial ceremony he could provide.

They stood in silence, staring at the corpses of the performers.  

“I need a drink,” said Kham.  “Anyone care to join me?”

For once, Beldin and Sebastian agreed.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 48: Brothers of the Yellow Sign - Introduction*

This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure from Tatters of the King, “Brothers of the Yellow Sign” by Time Wiseman, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This little side trek acts as a bridge between the larger campaign to stop the Unspeakable One and everything else going on in Coryan.  It’s also the point in the campaign where the game catches up with the Arcanis timeline.  We’re now somewhere in the murky depths of Year Three. However, we haven’t officially ended Year Two yet (that’s in a few adventures), so the timeline is a bit out of sync.  

To bring you up to speed, our heroes recently sowed the seeds of rebellion in Canceri, with the hopes that the Nerothians will throw off the Nierite occupation.  The Nierites also marched on Milandir but were defeated. A plague heightened the tension between Milandir and Canceri, and Sebastian and Vlad were caught in the middle. Ultimately, the plague was averted and Milandir stayed out of the brewing civil war.  

During their journey, Ilmarė was poisoned. Her sister, Anulee, was part of a convoluted plot to protect her honor.  She pinned the death of Vlad’s father, a humble guardsman, on Sebastian’s father, who was condemned to death.  Anulee was banished for her crime and fled southwards to Sweet Savona.  

The Unspeakable One’s minions, the k’n-yan, manage to weaken the rift between Arcanis and Carcosa.  This bodes ill, for as Bijoux personally witnessed, it means that the world will soon come to an end as thousands of k’n-yan invade. The heroes stumble upon Hillary Carbo, Livius’ wife, in a power struggle to control yet another cult that eagerly awaits the Unspeakable One’s return.  Armed with information that Livius was in Sweet Savona, they headed out…

But instead of reforming her ways, Anulee fell in with Silas Fedders, the former court wizard of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen, and they ultimately tried to summon a Spawn of Hastur at a premiere theatre in Savona. The heroes defeated her, barely. They’re hot on the trail of Livius.  If they can catch him, perhaps they can save the world after all.


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Prologue*

The day was overcast as a carriage brought Sebastian and Beldin into the center of Sweet Savona.  Small, crowded streets characterized the area. Fine old palaces and apartments could be found there, as could most of the good tavernas.  

A tall, slim, and handsome man approached.  

“You’re not Kham,” said Beldin.  The dwarf’s fingers flexed, ready to grab the axe across his back at any moment.

He was clean-shaven, with short dark hair and a strong jaw.  He was dressed in a well-cut black outfit and shoes.  He held himself erect and seemed a little stiff and formal.  

“Hello signori,” the man bowed his head slightly.  “My name is Paulo Tuminardo. I will be your guide here in Sweet Savona.” 

“Where’s Kham?” asked Sebastian.  The dark-kin was a little less tense his dwarven companion, but still kept his arms by his sides should he need to cast a spell.

Paulo held up one hand. “Ah yes, you must be looking for him.  I apologize, my services have been secured by Domina Luca Gracchi—”

“You’re not answering the question,” said Beldin.  

“Your companion is inside,” Paulo continued.  “A Milandisian.”

“That would be Vlad,” said Sebastian.  “That still doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t explained why Kham isn’t here and you are.”

“Domina wishes you a pleasant stay while you are in her city,” Paulo said with a deferential tilt of his head. “I am to be your guide. With the Patriarch of the Illiirite church dead and the Emperor now Chosen of the Pantheon, things are quite different in Sweet Savona.”

“Who is this Luca, anyway?” The dwarf was losing his patience.

“She is a very influential lady,” Paulo said with a tight smile.  “And she is Kham’s mother.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Beldin shoved past Paulo into the taverna. “Every man has to visit his mother some time.”

Paulo gestured towards the taverna, waiting for Sebastian to follow.

“Kham has a mother?” Sebastian asked in shock. Then he followed Beldin.


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Part 1 – Reunion*

The Widow’s Stone was a well-known taverna in the city. Though the bleak weather made outside drinking and dining out of the question, the taverna had a central fire to warm chilled bones and a large supply of Savonan Red. 

Vlad’s back was to the doorway when they entered, but he was unmistakable.  The big man had a mane of black curly hair that he only occasionally cut.  It was short now, as he had been pressed into military service only recently. 

He turned at the sound of the dwarf entering the room.  

“Vlad!” shouted Beldin.  The usually gruff dwarf’s features flashed a smile.  “You’re back!”

Vlad hopped up from his seat and gave the dwarf a bearhug. “It’s good to see you!” He smiled at Sebastian.  “And you too Sebastian.”

Sebastian smiled and grabbed a seat.  “How are you?”

“He’s grown a beard too!” Beldin looked like a proud father.

“I just got back from the goblin uprising in Milandir,” said Vlad. “Things seem to have settled down, but there was some mention of a rift?  Something about the King’s Players…” he trailed off, looking at Sebastian uncertainly.

“Yes,” Sebastian began.  “We…we closed the rift to Carcosa.” 

“I didn’t realize my father had been framed.” Vlad looked down at the table. “But now his soul is at peace, and the real killer is seeing justice.”

They were silent for a moment.  Paulo cleared his throat. 

“Who is this?” asked Vlad.

“Oh, this is Paulo.  He’s been assigned to us by Luca Gracchi.”

Vlad blinked.  “As in, the Gracchi family?”

Paulo bowed slightly.  “The very same.”

“What did we do to deserve this kind of attention?” asked Vlad. 

“Kham was born,” said Beldin. “Luca Gracchi’s his mother.”

“We’re looking for one Thomas Villiers,” added Sebastian.

“Ah, yes.” Paolo smiled, happy to be of service. “Villiers can be contacted in the shipping office of Giuseppe Colombo somewhere in the Navigli.”

The Navigli were an extensive system of canals starting from a landlocked port that spread out to crisscross the southern portion of Sweet Savona.  They transported raw materials and finished goods, lined by workrooms, warehouses, and case di ringhiera.

Vlad got up and stretched. “Let’s go.  I’m looking forward to bashing some cultist heads in.”


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Part 2 – Colombo’s Office*

They set out for the Navigli in the late afternoon.  Paulo negotiated the journey with a carriage driver.  

Once aboard, the vehicle moved away from the city center on the small roads and bridges of the community.  It was foggy and there was no other traffic.  Rain had set in, falling in a steady drizzle.

For much of the journey the carriage had to crawl, at other times it pushed slowly through crowds of local residents.  The driver frequently stopped to give Colombo’s name to passers by.

Finally, they pulled up to a rather squalid terrace.  

”This is it,” said Paulo.  He told the driver to wait and stepped out of the carriage. The others followed behind him.

A faded legend above one door announces: OFFICE.  Sebastian knocked on it. 

Upon his knock, someone called, “Vieni qui!”

“That means enter in High Coryan.” Sebastian pushed the door opened. 

The door gave into a room about ten feet on each side with a desk, two chairs, and a single shelf of books.  On one wall was a painting. Although it seemed to be a supper with Illiir at the center, the artist had painted the scene from the back and no faces were visible.  On another wall was a very faded painting of a young priest with a cardinal.  

Behind the desk sat a toothless, bald man with one milky white eye.  He wore a sour expression.  In front of him sat a slim man with a gaunt face and longish straight black hair. A small cup of coffee was set before each man.

“Hello,” Sebastian said with a slight smile.  “Are you Thomas Villiers?”

“Che?” asked the older man. 

“Thomas Villiers?” Sebastian repeated.

The older man looked to the younger, who just smiled and shrugged.

“Thom-as Vil-liers?” Sebastian repeated slowly for the third time.  

Finally, the younger man laughed.  “I’m Thomas.” He pointed at the older man. “This is Giuseppe Colombo.  I can speak both Low and High Coryan fluently.  You must forgive my rudeness.  I was just admiring your efforts, it reminded me a great deal of myself just a few years ago.”

Sebastian turned to Paulo.  “I think we’re okay here, Paulo.  Please wait in the carriage. 

Paulo nodded and bowed out of the room. 

With Paulo gone, Thomas smiled. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Do you know Livius Carbo?” 

“Yes, Livius and I are close friends.  We left Freeport together in the spring to come here to Sweet Savona.”

“It’s an interesting place,” said Vlad.  The last time he had been in Sweet Savona it was a very different and altogether more pleasant experience. 

“There are many brilliant people to study with here: me, Giuseppe and Livius are part of one such group that was organized by a professor Roberto Anzalone from the university.  I myself am a painter and used to sculpt, but the group is eclectic: it contains writers, actors, musicians, philosophers, academics, and all sorts of people.” He paused. “I hate to disappoint you, but Livius left the city recently on a journey.”

“Where?” asked Vlad.  

Thomas smiled.  He looked at Colombo.  “The story is they’ve gone to the Forbidden Wastes—well, they haven’t. Actually, they’re on a Pilgrimage—“

Immediately, Colombo erupted.  He stood up and spewed out an incredible torrent of invective—screaming, spitting, pointing, sometimes at Thomas and sometimes at Sebastian.  

“A che cosa dite a questa gente, Villiers? Guardarlo! Stupido! Spendono i loro soldi su vino e sui prostituti in modo da possono bere e carreggiata i loro giorni via. Vedono? Si preoccupano per il vuoto delle loro vite? Il re nel colore giallo sta venendo a Arcanis questo ciclo e scoperà esente la terra da questi rifiuti. I suoi programmi non sono il vostro, Villiers, o Anzalone, o il Carbo, qualunque li pensate sa. Dire a questa gente che viene qui cercando il re nel colore giallo che percorrerà su loro e su tutti come loro!”

He pushed furiously past Beldin and Vlad, who were standing, out into the street.

“What was that all about?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian shook his head at Beldin.  “I’ll tell you later.”

As the door slammed shut, Thomas smiled ruefully. 

“Please, ignore old Guiseppe.  My friend doesn’t understand the common tongue, so I don’t know what provoked that.  I suggest a change of venue. The office is uncomfortable and my studio is close.  I have a couple of bottles of grappa there too. “

“I don’t know if we should…” Vlad cocked his head.  

There was shouting and noise.  Horses set off at a gallop.  Colombo had told the carriage driver in a most forceful manner that he was not needed.

“Never mind.” Vlad rubbed the back of his head.  “I think our ride just left.”

“In that case we’d be happy to join you,” said Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Part 3 – Villiers’ Studio*

Thomas led them through a primitive kitchen at the back of the office and out into an alleyway.  It was still raining.  

He turned right and just a hundred yards along they come to a pair of large doors. He produced a key, opened one door, and stepped through.

Inside was a big, high-ceilinged space.  It was dimly lit, but had stall windows and a skylight.  The sun had set and the radiance from the moon and stars fell in patterns down on the floor and up the walls.

Thomas crossed to one side of the room.  He lit an oil lamp and then a couple of candles.  

The illumination revealed a jumble of easels, paints, palettes, brushes and so on, along with many finished and unfinished canvasses.  

Thomas got the grappa and some glasses. He cleared some armchairs and a big old sofa of some sketches.  “Please, sit.”

“You have some amazing paintings,” said Sebastian carefully. The paintings were abstract, dark, and very bold, in the shades of maroon, scarlet, black, and silver. They were skillfully executed, if not to everyone’s taste.

Thomas continued to talk. “I really do admire Livius.  I’m sorry I couldn’t go with him.  I’m honored to have called them brothers.  As the Brothers of the Yellow Sign, we believe that the trinity of Illiir, Nier, and Larissa are actually other deities, older gods.  The parallels are many and obvious.”

Vlad stood up and walked over to one of the paintings.  There was a piece of paper pinned to an easel near him. Words and names jump out.  One of them was, “The King in Yellow.” It was a description of a planned treatment.  

Thomas looked over at Vlad.  He stopped talking.  

“Is everything all right?” asked Sebastian.

Thomas ran one hand over his face.  “Excuse me.” 

Thomas got up and started to walk, then rushed towards the door he came in.  As he ran he shouted out. “Angel! I bound you and I release you!”

There was an immediate loud thump, as if a dead weight hit the roof. 

The door slammed shut.  Looking up, something was clearly outlined above the closed skylight.  

“Uh oh,” said Vlad. 

A moment later it crashed down in a shower of glass.


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Part 4 – The Angel*

Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of the moonlight, there flopped rhythmically a hybrid, winged thing that no sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly remember. It was not altogether crow, nor mole, nor buzzard, nor ant, nor vampire bat, nor decomposed human being; but something in Sebastian’s mind recoiled at the mere sight. It flopped limply along, half with its webbed feet and half with its membranous wings.

“Byakhee!” shouted Beldin.

“The same one that flew Livius to safety!” shouted Sebastian.

Vlad rammed the double doors and bounced off them.  “He locked us in!”

“Good,” Beldin whirled on the thing.  “It’s not going to get away this time!” He barreled towards the byakhee.

The byakhee screeched, spraying saliva everywhere as it reared up on its hind legs.  

“Meet Windcutter!” shouted Beldin.  He whistled the blue-black axe over his head and sliced downwards at the byakhee’s forelimbs.  A claw went flying in a spurt of ichor. 

Vlad drew a hilt.  It flashed to life with a blade of pure energy.  The byakhee’s jaws snapped forward, maddened with pain.  Vlad plunged the weapon through its skull. 

And just like that, it was over.  With a gurgling whine, the huge byakhee fell over dead.

“Some angel,” Beldin said with a smirk. “If Umor is your god,” he shouted at the door, “he’ll need to find stronger servants!”

Mist started to seep from under the door.  “We’d better get out of here.” Sebastian pointed at the window on the opposite side.  “Shall we make a door?”

Beldin smashed through the window. “Follow me.”


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Part 5 – Universita Degli Studi*

Sebastian led his motley crew of companions through the twisting halls of the Universita degli Studi. 

“The one name we have is Roberto Anzalone.  He’s a professor in the Department of Letters.”

“So that’s who we’re going to see?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head.  “Professor Anzalone is not at the university. We’re meeting Paulo Bacci, a colleague of Anzalone’s in the History department.” He paused.  “Maybe it’s best if you all wait out here.”

It wasn’t every day that a dwarf and a fully armed Milandisian entered a scholar’s quarters.

Sebastian entered Paulo’s office.  Paulo was sitting at his desk.  Despite Sebastian’s slightly feral features, he an odd sort of charisma that people—not animals—related to.

Paulo was a thin, scholarly type.  “Welcome, Mister Arnyal.” He gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

“Hello Signori Bacci.”  Sebastian used the formal mode of Coryan speech as he seated himself.  “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Yes?”

“I am looking for Roberto Anzalone.  He was headed on some sort of expedition?”

“Ah yes, I know Anzalone,” said Paulo. “He left a week ago.  They’re heading for the Forbidden Lands, intending to locate the site of Jiwakhar.  I suspect he may be gone for six months.”

“Six months.” Sebastian tapped his lips with one finger.  “I’m concerned for him.  You see, I have evidence to believe that he has fallen in with religious fanatics.  Does the name Livius Carbo ring a bell?”

Paulo sat back in his chair, sizing up Sebastian for a moment.  “Yes, that does sound familiar.  Let me check my papers…”  

He pulled out a drawer and rifled through documents.  Finally, he pulled a sheet out.  “Ah yes.  Here it is.”  Paulo scanned the documents.  “That’s strange.  This contradicts what he told me.”

“How so?”

“A graduate student from the university, Carlo Schippone, is actually traveling on an expedition to Nyambe, along with a friend of Professor Anzalone’s.”

“Livius Carbo?”

“Precisely. I think the Emperor had an interest in the expedition too. A centurion, Flavius Claudius Servilius, accompanied the three other men.  Please keep that quiet, I should probably not be telling you all this. “

“Your secret is safe with me.” Sebastian rose and shook Paulo’s hand.  

“Are you planning to stop him?”

Sebastian paused at the doorway. “We’ve been trying to catch up with Carbo for over a year. If he’s traveling by ship, there’s no way we’ll get to him in time.”

“Nyambe’s on the other side of the world!” said Paulo, incredulous.  “Surely his expedition cannot do much harm there.”

“You’d be surprised how small Arcanis really is,” Sebastian said ruefully.


----------



## talien

*Brothers: Conclusion*

When they returned to the Widow’s Stone, their guide was waiting for them.

“Paulo!” Sebastian said with false enthusiasm.  “You seem to have lost track of us.”

“Yes,” Paulo looked embarrassed.  “The gentlemen ordered the carriage away with such venom that I went for a wild ride.”

“Not a very good guide,” muttered Beldin.

Paulo cleared his throat.  “The dwarf is right, being a guide is just one of my duties, and I’m not very good at it.  In truth, I am here to relay a request on behalf of Domina Gracchi.”

“You mean spy on us,” added Sebastian.

Paulo didn’t contradict him. “I represent certain Imperial interests that are concerned with the machinations of the Arch Prelate. A certain friend of yours was assigned to translate an ancient text from the time of the First Imperium detailing an obscure Nierite legion called the Pride of Chendo. For some reason, this legion has some tenuous link to Enpebyn’s past.”

“What friends?” asked Beldin.

“Quintus Aurelius Ignatius,” Paulo responded.

Vlad slapped his forehead.  “I never thought what the changes in the Church meant for Quintus!  He was both a priest and a legionnaire.”

“A political shift like that can be perilous to a man’s career,” said Beldin. “It’s likely the Emperor didn’t trust Quintus, but not enough to brand him a traitor.  So he sent him far away from the Empire.”

Paulo continued. “Quintus set out with a team recently, scouring the Blessed Lands for some proof of this legion’s existence. A few weeks ago, he sent back a message by way of a traveling Ansharan that he had made a significant discovery near the northeastern peaks of the Corlathian Mountains. As you well know, winter has come, and no word from Quintus or his team has surfaced.”

“That doesn’t bode well” said Sebastian.

“Domina Gracchi believes that the Arch Prelate desires the artifacts that Quintus was searching for.  She believes that the Arch Prelate is working against the Emperor and the Empire as a whole and is consolidating a power base from which to launch a concerted effort to overthrow the Emperor. These artifacts may hold some key information or power that may allow him to do just that.”

“Quintus would never knowingly betray a trust,” said Vlad.  “And if it was in service to the Emperor, he would die before he would let an artifact of that magnitude fall into the wrong hands.”

“Do you even know what these artifacts do?” asked Beldin.  “You’re being very vague.”

“Domina Gracchi did not see fit to share that information with me. Should these artifacts be found to be inconsequential and only valuable in a historical context, they will be immediately returned to their rightful owner.”

“Sure they will,” said Sebastian. 

“Domina Gracchi wishes to convey that your reputation as resourceful people has been spreading throughout the Empire and that it would be beneficial to have the friendship of a powerful family.”

“I wonder what Kham has to say about all this?”

Paulo looked over his shoulder at the exit from the taverna.  “Kham left for Altheria.  War is brewing there, and he has left with his mother’s blessing to spread his cousin’s ashes in New Althre.”

Vlad nodded.  “Dril mentioned to me that he was leaving for Altheria.  Every Altherian citizen has been called back.  They’re on the brink of war with the Ssethregorans.”

“We have in place an agent in the Ansharan Shrine,” continued Paulo. “The agent will instruct the Ansharan priest to open a gate directly to Grand Coryan, rather than back here. Upon your arrival with the artifacts, my patron will offer each of you the sum of two thousand Imperials… as well as her favor, whose value is far higher than can be measured in mere coin, I assure you. Can she count on your help?”

“The pursuit of Livius will have to wait.” Beldin put his hand out.  “For Quintus.”

Sebastian put his hand on Beldin’s. “For Quintus.”

“For Quintus.” Vlad placed his open palm on both of his companions’. “And two thousand imperials.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 49: Sibling Rivalry - Introduction*

This is a Year Three Living Arcanis adventure, “Sibling Rivalry” by Henry Lopez, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter/seeker of the cerulean sign) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This is one of those adventures that feels like a season finale, even though it isn’t.  Plenty of former PCs show up, including Calactyte and Quintus. It explains what they’ve been up to and why they haven’t been in contact for some time.

This adventure also kicks off the inevitable conflict in Coryan that will have far-reaching implications, as far as Freeport.  War is coming, and it will affect everyone.

I was pleased that this adventure had our most combat-heavy PCs (the sorcerer and two fighters) to go toe-to-toe against war trolls.  War trolls are nasty mothers.  In case you’re wondering, I classified war trolls as giants for purposes of the dwarf special ability ‘cause…well, because it’s stupid that normal trolls are considered giants but war trolls aren’t.  All of the Singarthan trolls were converted from the original adventure, with Warrior Caste trolls becoming war trolls and Arcane Caste trolls becoming regular warmage trolls.  It worked out nicely.


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Prologue*

Not long after Paolo Tuminardo left, the door swung open and a figure in a very heavy cloak and hood entered. Small amounts of snow fell from his shoulders as he pulled back his hood. 

The face revealed that of a young man, with a thick tangle of black hair and a ready smile that seemed out of place among the dour and no-nonsense people of the Widow’s Stone. Scanning the room, his eyes fall upon Vlad. His infectious smile became even broader. 

“Vlad!”

Vlad stood up.  “Decimus?”

Decimus walked over to their table. 

“Greetings, my friends. For those who do not know of me, I am Decimus -- a humble facilitator. I’m sorry to meet you under such mysterious circumstances, but it would not be seemly to make such my patron travel to meet us.”

Sebastian and Beldin met Decimus with a quizzical look.  

“Meet us about what, Decimus?” asked Vlad.  “Last we met, you were trading in a contract for your freedom.”

Decimus nodded as he pulled up a chair.  “I did indeed, and I was granted that freedom.  I work for myself now, but I’m still in the same business.”  He smiled again.  “Old habits die hard.”

“Who’s your patron?” asked Beldin.

“My patron is a highly placed member of the Beltinian church and would rather keep the subject we are about to discuss from spilling out into the open. I trust I can count on your prudence in this matter?” 

Vlad looked at his two companions. “Sure, you can trust us.”

“Besides attending to the spiritual well-being of the good people of Valentia and the Empire, my patron also provides funds for those scholars who delve into the ancient past and seek out knowledge and artifacts from eras long since gone.  He is very interested in Quintus’ recent work.”

“We’ve heard of his expedition,” said Sebastian.  “And we’ve also heard that he hasn’t been back.”

“I have already sent out a search party to discover the whereabouts of the second team, but I need you to find Quintus, secure his safety, and if he is close to making his discovery, assist him if at all possible.” 

“We were going after him already,” said Vlad.  “The Gracchi family is—“

“The Gracchi?” Decimus looked horrified. 

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

“The Gracchi are one of the noble vassal human families of the val’Assante’ family. The family is quite prominent in Imperial politics, having not one but two of its members serving in the Imperial Senate. The Gracchi have a reputation for being shrewd, cunning and ruthless in their dealings.”

“So?” asked Beldin.

“The Gracchi matriarch, Luca Gracchi, is a personal friend and confidant of the Emperor. Her involvement may mean that the Emperor himself is interested in these artifacts.”

“Then we’d better get going.” Vlad kicked back his chair.  “We’ll find him and let you know what we discover.”

“Good.” Decimus offered a document to Sebastian.  “This writ will bring you back over the mountains. Just present it to the priests at the Shrine.” 

Sebastian took the writ and added it to the one Paolo Tuminardo had given to him on behalf of the Gracchi family.

“Time is of the essence. You’ll need to be ready to leave in the next few hours. Though evening has fallen, there are still a few merchants open where you can purchase winter clothing and any other gear you may need. I will meet you at the Ansharan Temple in the city in three hours.” 

“We’ll be there,” said Sebastian.”

With a slight nod of his head, Decimus departed.

Beldin crossed his arms. “I don’t trust either of them.”

“Me neither,” said Sebastian.  

“Maybe we should find Quintus first before we worry about who we hand him over to.” Vlad rose.  “Let’s go.”


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 1 – The Shrine of Anshar*

An Ansharan priestess, wearing the plain robes of her order, stood before the Gate.

“Stand before the opening,” she said imperiously. 

The dwarf, the dark-kin, and the Milandisian lined up in front of it. 

“Are any of you carrying an excess of blastpowder? We can store it for you, for a fee.”

Sebastian smirked.  “Kham’s not with us today, so no.”

Intoning the ancient ritual of benediction and supplication to Anshar, the priestess made a nearly imperceptible gesture towards the portal. The glyphs inscribed upon it began to glow with a life of their own. 

Within seconds, a pinpoint of blue light appeared and instantly erupted outward, filling the Gate’s central opening with a soothing blue glow. Howling winds blew through the opening. Yelling so that she could be heard, the straining priestess told them to leap through. 

As soon as they broke the plane, the light weaved itself through their bodies, a feeling of euphoria. In the blink of an eye, the impossible journey was over. 

They arrived in a chamber lit only by a half dozen smoky and oily torches. Behind them, a Gate of Anshar stood silent and cold; no indication of their passage was evident. 

“Well, that was more pleasant than the Ssethregoran gates,” muttered Sebastian.

The Gate appeared different from the ones they had seen previously, looking more antiquated and rougher. Gone was the polished marble, replaced instead by a darker stone. 

A being wearing the same threadbare robes of the clergy of Anshar approached with arms outspread in a gesture of welcome. Wrapped around his left hand was the ever-present thorn vine, holy symbol of the Ansharan priesthood. 

“Welcome to the Blessed Shrine of Anshar, pilgrims,” he said. “I am Ney. Know that here your woes and wailing hearts are songs of supplication to the Suffering Goddess. All have an allotment of misery that must be endured before traveling through to the Paradise promised to us by the Gods. Anshar gives us the opportunity to wash away this debt now rather than having us boil in Beltine’s eternal cauldron.”

“It’s good to see the clerisy of the Goddess of Outcasts and the Unwanted accommodates even dark-kin,” said Sebastian with a slight smile. Unlike other priests of Anshar, Ney’s skin was milky white and crisscrossed with black spider web markings.  

“All are welcome, but a small donation from the faithful is asked so that our work here may continue.” 

Each of them made a donation of a few imperials.

“Do you know if a legionnaire named Quintus came through here?

“I knew that he did,” said Ney.  “It was another priest, Torric, who traded with them.  He is in the Shrine and should be able to help you.”

As they passed, Ney smiled and make a special show of welcoming Beldin. “Humanity, in all its various forms, could learn much from you, noble dwarf.”

Beldin hesitated.  “That is very kind of you.”

“No one,” said Ney, “knows more of suffering and pain than the dwarves.” 

Ney called to one of the members of the Legion of Grim Lamentation that stood guard outside the chamber and they were escorted to Torric.


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 2 – The Altar of Suffering*

They were led by the legionnaire into another dimly lit chamber. Central to it was a large marble statue of a woman in obvious agony, enwrapped by twin thorned vines that dug into her flesh. Her face looked upward to the heavens as if in supplication and her mouth was open in a silent scream. 

Arrayed about the statue was a small group of kneeling pilgrims. A priest intoned a prayer and the faithful about the statue whipped their backs in time to the cadence of his song.  The legionnaire motioned for the priest to come over. Another priest slid into his place and the ritual continued without skipping a beat. 

“Are you Torric?” asked Sebastian.

“I am.” He was obviously a half-orc.

“Have you been to Quintus Aurelius Ignatius’ campsite recently?

“I have.  I was there a few weeks ago. The campsite is a day and a half’s travel from the Shrine on foot.  Do you require an escort?”

“That would be wonderful, are you available?”

“I am. Unfortunately, this will have to wait until morning as the bizarre weather of the Blessed Lands has struck and the Red Snow, has been raging outside since sunset. These storms usually only last through the night; we should be able to head out in the morning.”

Beldin sighed. “Then I guess we’re stuck here.”

“I can offer you accommodations in the dormitory on the second floor for a small donation of fifty imperials each.”

“That seems awfully expensive,” muttered Vlad.

“If you do not have the funds, you can wait in the common room for free.”

“Well take a look first and then decide,” said Vlad. 

“Is there a place to eat around here?” asked Beldin.  “I’m starving.”

“Right this way,” said Torric.


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 3 – The Dining Area*

The large room was half-filled with members of the faithful eating a frugal meal. On the far side of the chamber area were a few Ansharans tending a large simmering pot from which porridge was served to a line of waiting pilgrims. 

Beldin licked his lips.  “Good, food.  I’m hungry.”

The room was subdued, with only minimal conversation and the clatter of wooden spoons scraping against bowls to accompany the muttered moans of pain coming from the next room. 

Beldin got in line to partake of the evening meal. When it was his turn, he discovered it was watered down gruel. 

They sat at the table while they consumed the soup. 

“This is disgusting.” Vlad made a face.

Sebastian slurped his gruel. “While it may appear unappealing and tasteless, it’s quite nutritious.”

Vlad looked around in search of a better meal. He stared over Beldin’s shoulder. “Ilmarė?”

They all turned around.  Ilmarė was sitting at a table by herself, staring with obvious distaste at her bowl. Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. 

All three of them walked over to her table.  The elorii stared up at them with her usual cold gaze.  “What are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you’re well, Ilmarė!” said Vlad.  He almost stepped forward to hug her but hesitated.  “Are you recovered?”

The elorii rolled her eyes.  “Obviously.”

Sebastian cleared his throat.  “I’m…sorry about that business—“

“With my sister?”  Ilmarė sighed.  “She was sick.  She will be reborn in a new life, a better life.”

Sebastian rummaged through his belt pouch.  “Anulee asked me to give this to you.”  He handed her the wrapped item; he had never opened it.

They stood around in uncomfortable silence.

“Are you going to stand there looking foolish or will you sit down?”

They sat down. 

“I came here with Ilovios, a Marokene.” It was obvious from the way Ilmarė said the elorii’s name that she disliked her. “We were about to go our separate ways when the storm hit.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Vlad. 

“Looking for Quintus,” Ilmarė said frankly.  “I had heard he was on an expedition to find an artifact.  Such a momentous discovery should not be left to humans alone.”

Sebastian smirked but kept his opinions about Ilmarė’s true intentions to himself. “We’re searching for him as well. I’m exhausted, so I’m retiring to bed.” He got up from the table; Beldin and Vlad followed.

Ilmarė continued to contemplate her bowl.  “Do what you wish.  I will finish my meal.”

Once they had all left, Ilmarė opened the package. It was a pin with a motif of a gliding bird.

The elorii pinned the brooch to her cloak. “Umor will pay for what he did to you, Anulee.”


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 4 – The Squatter’s Corner*

“This,” Torric opened the door, “is the common room.”

The stench of human sweat erupted from the chamber the moment the wooden door swung open. Soft groans and muted sobbing echoed throughout the area. The ambient light from the hallway poured into the windowless room, revealing thin beaded mats serving as beds for the three-dozen people. 

Their faces were etched with despair and hopelessness. It was the hopeless gaze of those who had lost everything, including the fire to face the challenges fate had lain before them. 

Just inside the door was an Ansharan, who stopped intoning his prayers at the interruption. 

”This is Hurrold,” said Torric. 

“Please, come in and close the door behind you,” said Hurrold.  

Sebastian took a step backwards.  “I’ll sleep upstairs, thanks.”

Before they could react, Torric closed the door, leaving Beldin and Vlad in the room with Hurrold. 

“This chamber houses those pilgrims who do not have the funds necessary to pay for the better accommodations in the dormitories on the second floor nor the money to get back home,” said Hurrold. “These are truly the poorest and most destitute of Onara.  We feed them and give them a place to sleep for free, but we do not have the wealth to do much more than that and to pray for their souls.” 

A thin man, unshaved and unwashed, cradling a small child, came forward to speak with Vlad.

“I beg your pardon, noble sir. My name is Jozeph, a freeman from Milandir and one of the faithful of our Mother Church. As is written in our holy books, I have taken my family and set off on a pilgrimage to the First City. Our caravan, full of pilgrims from various parts of Milandir and even Ulfia, were beset by bandits as we were traveling across the plains of Dagha. Most of my fellows were slain. My family and I would have been killed too, had it not been for the Soldier-Saints of Dagha. They arrived and killed or chased off the bandits. In their kindness they treated the wounded and escorted us here to convalesce with the Ansharans.”

Vlad watched Jozeph apprehensively.  The child reached out for him and grabbed one of Vlad’s fingers.

“Though we are very grateful to the monks and priests of the Suffering Goddess for their kindness these past two months, we are desperate to get home. I am not a rich man, but I do own a small shop where I sell my wares. I am a cobbler by profession and would gladly repay you in services or wares if you were to visit my store in Luchek. “

“That is not necessary,” said Vlad. 

“I only ask for enough money to purchase a horse for my wife and child to ride and for some food for the trek.”

Vlad hesitated. 

“Please kind sir, I beg of you. I don’t know how much longer we can stand to be in this place of misery and sorrow!” 

“How much do you need?” asked Vlad.

“One hundred imperials.”

“Done!” Vlad handed him a coin purse from his belt.  “Anything for a fellow Milandisian.”

A great cry of hope and despair went up from the room as Vlad handed over the gold.  People mobbed them both with every sob story imaginable.

“My son is suffering from a strange disease!” shouted one.

“My grandmother will not last another night here!” shouted another.

“My father lost his arm to a troll!” shouted a third.

Vlad backed towards the door.  “I…can’t help them all!”

Beldin cupped his hands to his face.  “ENOUGH!”

They all quieted down, terrified.

“I am not without mercy.  All your accounts will be settled. Be at peace and sleep well tonight, for it will be the last night here.”

Hurrold looked askance at the dwarf.  “That’s over five thousand imperials!”

Beldin sniffed.  “A pittance, for a dwarf.”  He handed Hurrold a note for five thousand imperials.  “Clean them up, get them out of here.”

“You truly a noble giant.” Hurrold bowed deeply before Beldin.  “I am humbled by your charity.”

People began weeping and thanking Beldin, offering to wash his boots, braid his beard, polish his weapons. They had to leave the room.

“That’s an awful lot of gold,” said Vlad in disbelief.  “Why did you do that?”

Beldin grunted.  “There was a time when my race were the guardians of humanity.  My clan has been so caught up with freeing ourselves from the Curse that we sometimes lose sight of why we were trapped in our dwarven bodies in the first place. Besides,” he adjusted his belt, “I have the change to spare.”

Vlad shook his head in disbelief as he followed the dwarf to the dormitories.


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 5 – The Inner Ring*

As they made their way around the Inner Ring of the Shrine, they came to a stone staircase leading upwards. At the base of the staircase, curled up in a fetal position, was a member of the Black Talon egg clutch. 

“Calactyte?” asked Sebastian in surprise.  “Is that you?”

The ss’ressen was shivering uncontrollably, its eyes rolled up into its skull.

A figure, hidden in the shadow of the staircase commented in a voice devoid of any emotion, “I have been watching the beast for the better part of the evening wondering if I should kill it put it out of its misery or let the cold do my work for me.” 

Descending from the shadows, the speaker revealed herself to be an attractive elorii female. She wore little, with spiked shoulder guards, bracers, and knee-length black boots.  Her long ponytail swished behind her, dyed purple and black. Her skin was a dusky gray.

She continued to speak as she walked towards Sebastian. “The atrocities committed by its kind upon my people though the ages are not easily forgotten. I have been pondering on whether the sins of a race should be borne by all its members or if the past should remain in the past.” 

“You must be Ilovios. I understand that elorii have long memories.  But you cannot punish one ss’ressen for the sins of an entire race.  It will change nothing.”

“It will be one more elorii soul avenged.” Ilovios inserted herself between Calactyte’s shivering body and Sebastian. “And unlike your fleeting, mongrel race, one elorii soul is worth a thousand ss’ressen.”

“If you felt that way, you would have killed him outright.”

Ilovios jut out her chin.  “The natural laws will decide whether it lives or dies.”

“Then who is to say that I’m not part of the natural laws? Perhaps I was fated to come here.  I know this ss’ressen.  His name is Calactyte.  He has protected human and elorii alike.  It would be a grave injustice to let him die here.”

“Then it will be a pity when he dies.”  Ilovios smirked.

“Yes, it would.” Sebastian raised his hands, palms open.  “But a watched pot never boils.  _Medicates privates._”

With lightning speed, Ilovios drew a dagger from her belt.  But she looked at it curiously, as if she wasn’t sure why it was in her hand.

“Why don’t you have something to eat and leave the ss’ressen to his fate.”

Ilovios snorted at Sebastian. “Lucky for you, half-human, I’m going to have something to eat. Don’t touch that thing; leave the ss’ressen to his fate.”  She shoved past him.

Sebastian let the breath out he had been holding.  He rushed to Calactyte’s side and threw a robe over him.  Beldin and Vlad joined him. 

“What happened?”

“Just dealing with cold hearts,” said Sebastian.  “Let’s get him upstairs to a fireplace where it’s warm.”


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 6 – The Campsite*

True to his word, Torric was up at the crack of dawn, ready to guide them to Quintus’ last known campsite. 

“We will take care of Calactyte.  He is still unconscious; it will take days for him to recover.  It is not safe for him to travel until the worst of the storm passes.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian.  “I know you will treat him with as much kindness as you’ve treated us.”

Outside, a cold wind blew unmercifully and seemed to cut directly through outer clothing. Of the red snow, only a crimson, oily smear remained, giving the cracked and blackened landscape the appearance of a seeping wound.

“Why is that snow red, anyway?” asked Vlad. 

“During the final days of the God’s War, a group of Kelekene elorii were caught outside of the protection of the Vastwoods by a legion of the First Imperium, called the Legion of the Storm Lord,” lectured Ilmarė. “Before this legion could attack, another legion appeared and demanded that the elorii be offered safe passage to the Vastwoods. This legion was called the Pride of Chendo. Their general argued with his counterpart but could not dissuade them from wishing to put all the elorii to the sword. That night, the Pride of Chendo attacked and decimated the Legion of the Storm Lord, forcing their retreat from the battlefield. The wounded Chendo general returned to the elorii and told them that they were free to enter the Vastwoods.  But the Storm Lord had his revenge.  The Kelekene, trapped by the Storm Lord’s troops, enacted the Kurenthe…the death curse. It devastated the area. Thus the Red Snow.”

Torric was unmerciful in his trek, setting a pace few could keep up with. 

“Can’t we rest for a bit?” gasped Vlad. 

“The weeping mother teaches us that a little hardship is good for the soul,” jeered Torric. “She strengthens us for the inevitable difficulty ahead.” 

The day passed uneventfully and they made camp in a crag that protected them from the worst of the weather. 

By the following midday, they reached the hillock that served as Quintus’ campsite. It did not take a seasoned veteran or acute perceptions to tell that a pitched and brutal battle took place here recently. 

They wandered throughout the camp, searching for clues as to what happened. 

“A raid,” said Beldin. 

“Worse,” said Sebastian. “No bodies or survivors remain from either the attacking force or from the scholar’s expedition.”

Ilmarė held up some blood-spattered notes. “There are coins from the last dynasty of the First Imperium here, as well as the corpse of an ancient goblin. The notes indicate that this goblin was found by Quintus frozen in a ravine holding the bag of coins along with a symbol he identified as belonging to a centurion in the Pride of Chendo.”

“The amount of blood that dots the layer of snow in the campsite indicates that some people were killed and gutted,” said Vlad. 

“Voei,” said Torric. 

“What?” asked Beldin.

“Voei.” Torric shuddered. “Voei are huge brutes, some as tall as small giants. They file their teeth and are well known for their fondness for human flesh.  The Voei normally range in the Fervidous Hills, but have been known to raid as far south as the Corlathian Mountains and as far east as Milandir.”

“And you think they did this?” asked Sebastian.

“I do.  The Voei are savage brutes born without the slightest shred of human kindness or decency. Mercy at the hands of the Voei is a quick death.”

“I’ve found a set of tracks heading off into the Corlathian Mountains,” said Ilmarė.  “So at least we know which way they went.” 

“If Quintus’ expedition was taken by the Voei,” said Torric, “then I have little hope for their survival. If any members of the team were taken alive, they probably won’t be by the time you find them.”

“You’re really cheery, you know that?” muttered Beldin.

Torric fixed Beldin with a stare. “I have completed his task by taking you here. I must return to the Shrine.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian.  “We’ll take it from here.”


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 7 – Voei*

The Corlathian Mountain range was not just a series of high peaks. The foothills, where the expedition located their campsite, were full of crevasses, winding passages, ravines, and canyons. Outcroppings and ledges covered many of the trails. 

Every sound was magnified throughout the valley.  The ruins of an ancient temple, its back to the valley wall, loomed before them. They had to struggle through the hip-deep snow. 

Ilmarė froze.

“What is it?” asked Vlad.

“Shh!” Ilmarė cocked her head.  “Listen.”

“Sounds like…breathing,” whispered Sebastian.

Ilmarė pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at small plumes of steam coming from mounds of snow.  The telltale signs of a mammal’s breath…

Beldin whirled, pulling out his axe and shield.  Vlad did the same.

With a roar, Voei exploded from all around them.  They wielded huge swords and clubs.  Just as Torric had promised, the Voei were awful brutes with sharpened teeth and rippling muscles.  

Sebastian spread his fingers before him. “Incendiares globus!” 

The ensuing explosion tossed snow everywhere.  There were roars and screams as the Voei reeled from the attack.  Steam filled the air, making it impossible to see.

Strange chanting echoed through the valley.  Then a whirling ball of fire scorched its way through the snow.

“That yours?” shouted Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head.  “It’s a fire elemental. They’ve got a shaman!”

Beldin roared and faced it head on.  The fire elemental reared up, switching from a ball of flame to a snake-like form.  It hissed and crackled.

Ilmarė fired two arrows at once into one of the fog-shrouded forms.  It shrieked and collapsed. 

Beldin slashed Windcutter through the elemental.  The fire separated and reformed.

A wolf’s howl and a bear’s growl came from beyond the mists. 

“What the hell are they doing back there?” Vlad stumbled backwards from the tremendous blow of one of the Voei.  He rolled to the side as a club splattered snow and soot everywhere.

“It won’t matter in a moment: Incendiares globus!”

More flames burned off the mists and snow, leaving the air clear.  The elemental was gone.  Smoldering corpses of large humanoids were all that remained.

“Good job.” Beldin patted Sebastian on the shoulder.  

Ilmarė emerged from the ruins.  No one had seen her enter.  “I found Quintus,” she said grimly.

“He’s not with you…is he alive?”

The elorii’s features flickered something…was it concern?  “You’d better see for yourself.”


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 8 – Quintus*

Quintus was locked away in a side closet with only the carved corpse of his assistant as company. 

“Easy,” whispered Ilmarė.  She put her hands on his forehead, calling to the spirits of the air to heal him. “Easy.”

“What happened?”

“The Voei…” whispered Quintus. “They took us alive…planned to present me as a sacrifice for the tribal chief.”

“What…” Vlad looked down in horror. “What did they do to you?”

“On the second night following the raid, I tried to escape with my assistant…”

“The stories are true,” Sebastian said grimly.  “They really are cannibals.”

“We were captured,” continued Quintus.  “As punishment they killed the assistant.  And then…and then…”

Beldin looked away.

“THEY ATE MY LEGS!”  Quintus trembling hands felt at the stumps that were once the top of his thighs.  “I’ll never walk again.”  His eyes were filled with tears.  He turned to Ilmarė.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“Stupid human,” Ilmarė’s tone was soft, despite her harsh words. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I can’t…be the man I was.”

“None of that matters now.”

Vlad kneeled down.  “Can’t you heal yourself?”

“You don’t think I tried?” Quintus looked at his hands, caked in blood and dirt.  “Illiir has forsaken me!”

“What?” asked Beldin in disbelief.  “Why?”

Quintus licked his cracked lips.  “I was there. The Emperor accused Felician val’Mehan of conducting secret negotiations with the heretical priests of the Dark Triumvirate of Canceri. Calsestus branded the Patriarch a heretic and a traitor.  Then…it appeared…”

“What appeared?”

“A Valinor.  It was glorious, radiant, terrible…and it witnessed the Emperor stabbing the Patriarch through the heart.  Then it declared him Chosen of the Pantheon.  It said: Let none doubt that Calsestus’ will is the will of the Gods. Then they sent me on this mission.  It was suicide…they knew it.  My loyalties to the Emperor were in question.  And yet I had to go.  When my contubernium needed me most, my divine might failed.  And now they are all dead.”

Vlad moved to get up but Quintus grabbed him by the collar. 

“I will not let this quest be in vain! While others foolishly searched for some sign in the valley below the Corlathians, only I was able to decipher the secret of the living ice. The ice has moved up and down the sides of the mountain, scouring it of all remains and artifacts; pushing downwards in times of intense cold and retreating upwards during warmer ages. Given the proof provided by the corpse of that grotesque goblin, I know that their final resting place is close at hand.” 

With that Quintus, pulled from beneath his tunic a golden emblem upon a gold chain. There, in the center of the gilded disk, was an inscription in Ancient Altharin.

Ilmarė squinted at it. “It reads: Judgment tempered by mercy, fury tempered by clarity. It’s the credo of the inhabitants of the lost city of Chendo.”

“I know where the Pride of Chendo lies!” Quintus’ eyes were wild, desperate. “The glacier did move the remains up the mountain range. We must move quickly!”

The other stood up.  The proud legionnaire was still on the ground, helpless. 

“Let me help you,” Vlad lifted Quintus up.  “I can fashion a harness.  It’ll be just like Calactyte and Kham all over again.” He tried to make a joke, but nobody laughed.

Ilmarė looked away from them as they set off again up the mountain.


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## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 9 – Up the Mountain*

The last week of travel had been one of the most perilous periods they ever faced. Besides the treacherous terrain, howling winds that threatened to blow the unwary off the mountainside, and the constantly looming risk of an avalanche, packs of winter wolves have been hounding their every step. 

“The wolves seem to possess inhuman cunning,” said Beldin. “They’re always just out of sight.”

“They’re extremely intelligent,” said Ilmarė. “The fiercest of Osalian’s children.”

“Well, they’ve avoided every trap we’ve laid out for them,” said Vlad.

“Perhaps they are waiting for the mountain itself to finish you and then dine on your still-steaming corpses,” said Ilmarė. 

They ignored her.

Finally Quintus yelled for a stop. Wracked with excitement, he pointed up a sheer escarpment.

“There…up there! We are very close now.” 

“I don’t see a path leading upward,” said Beldin.

“Nor do I,” said Sebastian.  “But I know how we can get up there.”

Ilmarė snorted.  “Even I do not know all of Osalian’s secrets.  Surely you have not mastered flight.”

“Not with magic.”  Sebastian addressed Quintus. “You’re not the only one who lives with shame over his appearance. I’m about to share with you something I’ve kept secret for awhile now.”

Sebastian threw off his cloak.  

Vlad gasped. 

A pair of large bat-like wings unfolded behind the dark-kin. “I have learned that one man’s deformity is another man’s gift.” He unspoiled a rope from his belt pouch.  “Observe.”

And with a mighty heave, Sebastian launched himself into the air.


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 10 – A Very Large Corpse*

“I had no idea you could fly,” said Vlad.

“I suspected,” said Beldin, huffing and puffing up the cliff face. “I’m surprised you kept it secret this long.”

There was a history of keeping secrets between the dark-kin and dwarf that strained their relationship. 

“I can’t fly, exactly.  I can glide.  Up and down.  I get very tired, although my wings grow stronger every day.  Perhaps one day, I will be able to fly.”  Sebastian seemed almost wistful.

“It is a gift indeed.” Quintus spoke over Vlad’s shoulder, connected by his harness.  “But one that would not be looked kindly upon by everyone.”

“That’s an understatement,” added Ilmarė.

“I do not think my…disability, will be so charitably received.”

As they moved further up the mountain, the wind picked up. Visibility alternated between hard and difficult. 

During one of the still moments, a red-stained snowdrift of immense proportions caught their eye. Nearby, the sound of braying was dully heard over the howling of the wind. 

Beldin inspected the snowdrift.  What first appeared to be a buried log or stone quickly revealed itself to be…

Beldin took off his helmet and bowed his head.  “A giant.”

Sebastian froze. “Is he…”

“Quite dead. The corpse is covered in cuts, gashes, and lacerations. He lived long enough to get away from his attacker and finally fell here.”

Sebastian looked around.  “Where is that braying coming from?”

Ilmarė pointed.  “There.  It’s a goat.”

The braying belonged to a young goat with a leather collar. As Sebastian approached, it backed away tentatively. 

“This is going to sound strange,” said Sebastian, “but I think the goat wants us to follow it.”

“That wouldn’t be any stranger than the rest of this trip,” muttered Ilmarė.  “Fine, let’s follow the goat.”


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 11 – Trapped!*

The small animal led them down a snow-covered trail, barely visible through the snowfall. After a few minutes, the kid stopped and brayed louder.  The kid has led them to a tiny crevasse.

“There’s someone down there!” shouted Vlad.

A boy, unconscious, was wedged into the bottom of the crevasse. 

Beldin looked at Sebastian.  “Think you’re up to it?”

“Let’s hope so.”  Sebastian threw off his cloak and unfurled his wings again.  He descended the crevasse, flapping his wings for lift to slow his fall.  

A few minutes later and he emerged with the boy.

“His leg is broken.” Ilmarė put her hands on the boy’s leg. It glowed with a soft purple light.  “There.”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open. He feebly attempted to crawl away. 

“Be calm,” said Ilmarė.  “If we were going to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

“That’s not the kind of diplomacy I had in mind.”  After ensuring that his wings were once again tucked beneath his cloak, Sebastian kneeled in front of the boy and smiled.  “We mean you no harm.”

The boy barked something in a different language.  

“That’s Ancient Altharin,” said Ilmarė. “A very odd dialect. Let me speak to him.”

She spoke something to the boy.  He seemed to calm down. After speaking with him at length, she addressed her companions.

“His name is Hinod. He was leading a herd of goats back to his village when he fell through a layer of ice and slid down into the crevasse. He would like lead the us back to his village.”

“Anything’s better than this mountain,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 12 – The Village of the Sheliac People*

The boy led them down an invisible trail through a series of small caverns and out into a surprisingly warm valley. 

The sounds of goats and yaks braying echoed through the canyon walls. A curtain of mist rose up from the numerous rents in the valley floor, obscuring the humble mud and stone shacks that dotted the landscape. 

“Hinod?” 

A woman’s voice calls out the boy’s name as she came and swept him up in her arms. Through tear-laden eyes, she thanked them in her clipped language. 

From the center of the village, a number of men are emerged from their huts. They were a short-limbed people, obviously human, but of a strange mix. Dark, matted hair and a broad flattened nose was a common trait that both the men and women of the village shared. 

“They’ve got gold necklaces and jewelry that they can’t possibly have made themselves,” Beldin whispered to Sebastian.

“That’s the same metallurgy and color of the gold as the Centurion medallion I discovered,” whispered Quintus. “They were obviously made by the same craftsman – or at least the styles are similar.”

Sebastian nodded.  

“Ilmarė, ask to speak with their leader,” said Sebastian. “We need to know how they got the jewelry they’re wearing.”

Ilmarė shot him a glare. She spoke over her shoulder, and soon was ushered into a hut. While they waited, the villagers offered them a hardy meal of goat and yak stew that do much to chase the chill from their limbs.

Eventually, the elorii returned.  

“These are the Sheliac people,” she said. “They were occasionally threatened by the snow goblins, but they have not been seen since the Grey Lord sent a storm to shatter their home.”

“The Grey Lord?” asked Vlad.  “Who is that?”

“Hurrian,” said Quintus.  “The Storm Lord is often depicted as wearing a cloak of gray clouds.”

“The pieces of jewelry are spoils taken from the snow goblins.  They can take us there.”

“Let’s go,” said Quintus.  “There’s no time to waste.”

There was an awkward moment, where Quintus had to be lifted up by Vlad and refastened to his back.  He was hardly in a position to tell anyone to go anywhere.  But for once, even Ilmarė complied without complaint.


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 13 – Lair Entrance*

The further they traveled up the mountainside, the worse the weather became. The wind picked up, gusting at times as fast as fifty miles per hour. The temperature had dropped to a bone-chilling ten degrees Fahrenheit. 

They came to a wide chasm some, one hundred and fifty feet wide. Spanning it was a bridge made of ice. On the other side of the chasm, the mountainside continued with a large round ledge and an even larger cave entrance.

“That’s got to be it!” shouted Quintus.  “We need to…” The rest of his explanation died in his throat as a monstrous shape began to form from out of the fog.

“Troll!” shouted Ilmarė.  She drew her bow and fired.  The arrow stuck in the long-nosed, slouching thing but didn’t stop it.  It ambled across the bridge on its knuckles, gorilla-like, screeching as it came.

“I’ve got it.”  Vlad drew his sword and shield and stepped forward to face the beast.  It backhanded him and he fell, sliding perilously close to the edge of the bridge.

“Careful!” shouted Sebastian.  “I can’t use my magic here or I’ll collapse the bridge!”

Beldin stepped forward.  “Leave it to a dwarf to take care of a troll.”  He drew Windcutter.  “Come on then, beast.  You’ll not be knocking me down so easily!”

The troll roared and charged forward.  Beldin ducked low and hacked at one of its legs.  The troll howled in pain and spun, slapping Beldin sideways.

True to his word, Beldin didn’t fall down.  He merely slid upright across the bridge.  He flew right off the edge but buried Windcutter blade into the side.  The dwarf dangled over the void.

The troll turned, grinning with a mouthful of needle-like teeth.  It leaned forward to leer at Beldin, savoring its prey.

With a mighty lunge, Vlad slammed into the troll’s backside with his shield.  The thing shrieked as it flew end over end, past Beldin, and disappeared into the howling white winds below.

Vlad offered Beldin a hand up.

“Thanks,” said the dwarf.  “Let’s not speak of this ever again.”

Vlad smiled.  “Agreed.”


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 14 – Double Whammy*

Ilmarė padded ahead, listening every so often.  The floor was covered in snow, but she seemed completely oblivious to its effects.

“It’s clear,” she whispered. 

Vlad started walking forward when something cracked beneath him.  For a second he and Quintus stared down at the floor.

Then it gave way.  With a yelp, they collapsed into a pile of white snow.

Sebastian peered down into the shaft.  “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” shouted Vlad.  “The snow broke our fall.”

“Broke YOUR fall,” came the muffled response from Quintus, buried beneath Vlad.

Beldin threw down a rope.  

Ilmarė sniffed. “It must have a weight limit.” Then she cocked her head.  “What’s that sound?”

Sebastian looked around.  “What?”

“I hear…hissing.  As if something is burning.”

They both smelled it. A coppery taste filled the air.

Above the pit, a red circle was slowly glowing brighter and brighter amongst the stalactites.

“Pull faster!” shouted Quintus.

“I’m pulling as fast I can!” Beldin shouted back.

Sebastian joined in.  Ilmarė couldn’t help from her position on the opposite side of the pit.

“Hurry!” shouted Vlad. 

With a roar, Beldin fell backwards, tugging hard on the rope.  Snow and ice collapsed, completely filling the pit.

When the snow settled, Vlad and Quintus were safely just beyond the pit.  

“Thanks,” said Vlad.  “Let’s not speak of this ever again.”

The dwarf helped Vlad to his feet.  “We’re even.”

Quintus spat snow out of his mouth.  “Yeah, thanks.”

Ilmarė sighed.  “So much for the element of surprise.”


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 15 – The Tomb of the Frozen Gods*

The sound of ice being struck and chipped echoed just above that of falling water in the distance. A sudden crack of a whip punctuated the intensity of the incessant groans and whimpers indicative of those forced into labor. 

There were a dozen pale white goblins being forced to chip into the northern ice wall by a strange-looking beast. It had a long nose like a troll, but that was where the similarities ended. It was over seven feet tall, almost as wide, and had a stony gray carapace that covered its shoulders, back, outside of its arms and legs, its chest, and the back and top of its head. Its hands ended in four thick talons, also covered in the same hard carapace. Its broad face was slashed open by its toothy maw with a large nose topped by two piercing orbs, denoting a cunning mind and completing its menacing countenance. It was dressed in leather boots and a gold and mauve tabard cinched at its thick waist by a broad metallic belt. 

“Singarthan trolls,” whispered Ilmarė.  “I’ve never seen one before.”

Inside the far wall were scores of skeletal remains dressed in the armored regalia of legionnaires of the First Imperium. 

“The artifacts!” shouted Quintus, betraying their position.

The goblins shrieked as the Singarthan turned to face them. They fled in a panic.

The troll dropped its whip and drew a huge blade. Vlad dropped Quintus unceremoniously to the ground. 

“I know how to deal with the likes of you,” said Beldin a little forcefully.  He hefted Windcutter in one hand. “Come on!”

The troll roared and hacked downwards with such force that it knocked Beldin’s shield out of his hand.  Vlad came up behind it, but it backhanded him with one stony fist. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

Sebastian pointed a finger at the troll. “Radius Incensio!” Searing trails of flame spiraled towards the troll.

The Singarthan extended one palm and the fire dissipated harmlessly in an arc before it. 

“What are these things made of?” Sebastian shouted in disbelief.

“It is a Singarthan of the warrior caste,” said Ilmarė.  She fired two arrows, but they bounced right off of the troll’s carapace.  “It is bred for battle.”

Vlad rose to one knee just as the troll struck again.  The sound of metal on metal reverberated throughout the chamber from the impact.  Vlad flew upwards and back, landing near Quintus.  Blood trickled from his nose, ears, and mouth.

“Quintus!” Ilmarė fired two arrows, but they ricocheted off of the troll’s carapace.  “Help Vlad!”

“I can’t!  I can heal no one, not even myself!”

“Have you ever considered that the valinor was false?” shouted Ilmarė. “That the reason Illiir took away your spells is because you followed the Emperor’s orders?  Think!  Duty and allegiance aren’t everything!”

The troll turned to face Vlad’s unconscious body.  Quintus crawled over to him.

“It was Umor, Quintus!  Umor is manipulating everything!  The Unspeakable One wants a war, he wants Arcanis weakened so he can invade!”

“Illiir,” whispered Quintus, “I know that you have forsaken me, but Vlad is a good and noble man.  Let your will be done through me.” He put his hands on Vlad.  

The Milandisian’s eyes fluttered opened.  “You…healed me?”

“Not a moment too soon!” shouted Quintus.  “Look out!”

Vlad grabbed Quintus and rolled to the side as the Singarthan troll’s blade rent the ice floor.  It turned to finish them off…

Only to fall backward, Windcutter buried to the hilt in its skull.

“They have a weakness at the back of the neck,” sneered Beldin.  He yanked the axe out before the troll had even fallen to the ground.  “It’s the only way to kill them.”

“This is the place.”  Quintus pointed at the artifacts entombed in the ice.  “We must start digging immediately.”

“Let’s make sure there aren’t any others like these,” said Ilmarė.  She disappeared around the corner.  When she returned, the elorii was ashen-faced.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“Three more. The only reason they didn’t come in already is because there’s a waterfall between us and them.  It drowns out all noise.”

“Speaking of not being interrupted,” Sebastian pointed in the direction where the goblins fled. “Incendiares globus!”

The tunnel collapsed on the muffled screams of the goblins. 

“We can’t handle three!” said Vlad.  “We could barely kill one of them!”

“But we have the element of surprise,” said Quintus.  “Gather round: I have a plan.”


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 16 – Singarthan Outpost*

Ilmarė hopped down from the cavern ceiling.  She nodded at Quintus.  “It’s ready.”

Vlad and Beldin took up a position in front of the tunnel.  Beldin held only his axe Windcutter in both hands, glowing with magical a force field that illuminated him. He almost looked like a celestial giant of old…only smaller. Sebastian stood behind them. 

“Ready?” asked Quintus. He sat behind Sebastian on the cold ice floor. 

“Ready,” they said in unison.

“Ilmarė, go.”

Ilmarė took a deep breath and sang.  She sang one long, pure note and held it.  It reverberated throughout the chamber.

A few seconds later, the shadows of the Singarthans were visible in the tunnel.  Hear song was audible even through the roaring of the waterfall. 

The first troll rounded the corner. Ilmarė raised her voice to a higher pitch.  The huge weakened stalactite above the troll cracked from the note.

The Singarthan looked up just in time to be skewered by the stalactite.  It was buried under the rubble.

“Got it!” cheered Vlad.  “That’ll teach—“

His celebration was cut short by a massive sharpened spike that pierced his shoulder, pinning Vlad to the wall ten feet behind him.  He gasped in pain. 

“It’s got a crossbow!” shouted Quintus, stating the obvious. “Beldin, stop him!”

Flames spiraled towards Sebastian.  He dove to the side.  “And a sorcerer!”

“That’s a Singarthan of the Arcane Caste,” said Ilmarė. “Sebastian, don’t let him cast another spell!”

The second Singarthan troll barreled forward. It dropped a huge crossbow and drew a massive axe.  Beldin looked tiny in comparison. 

The dwarf ducked low and rolled as the axe swipe missed him.  He hacked at the Singarthan’s heel, then dove to the side again.

Sebastian lifted his arms.  “Multimodis Oris!”

Three ghostly pairs of jaws shot out from the folds of his robes.  The arcane Singarthan roared in pain.

Beldin dug in as the second troll’s blow came.  The field of force around him dissipated, but the dwarf held his ground.  “My turn!”

He hacked again hard at the troll’s foot.  It skipped backwards to avoid the attack. 

Ilmarė fired two arrows.  One of them struck true, spinning the arcane troll from the force of the attack.  That was all Sebastian’s ghostly jaws needed; they were on the troll like wolves on a carcass, biting and gnawing even as it thrashed helplessly beneath them. Then it lay still.

“Truce!” shouted the remaining troll.

Sebastian paused.  Vlad yanked the crossbow bolt out of his chest.  He slid to the ground.

Ilmarė knocked two more arrows. “Don’t trust it.  It will turn on us later.”

“Truce,” it bellowed again.  The Singarthan dropped its axe to the ground.  

Beldin looked back at Quintus. He was busy healing Vlad.

“Let us hear what it has to say,” said Quintus.

“You may take this outpost and anything else in it.  I only ask for free passage from here and the heart of my brother of the Arcane Caste.”

Sebastian’s hands were still up, ready to cast a spell.  “Why do you want the heart?”

It looked at Sebastian curiously. “How else may I ascend to the next Caste?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Quintus.


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Part 17 – A Family Rediscovered*

The troll’s efforts in chipping away at the ice took in a mere hour what would have taken them ten.  It left without another word.

“We should not have let it escape,” said Ilmarė. “I don’t trust those monsters.”

“The Singarthan was just a warrior following orders,” Quintus said softly.  “He was no monster.” He turned to Vlad.  “Please, take me over to the chest.”

Vlad carried him over.  Quintus passed his hand over the clasp.  It glowed with a warm, ruddy light.

“Our efforts have not been in vain.” Quintus’ voice cracked.  “We have unearthed the legacy of an honorable and just family and have put right an ancient wrong that was committed.  According to family legend, after the end of the God’s War, the champions of the Gods were chosen and were touched by the power of Their Valinor to create the Val families.”

Ilmarė sneered. ”I know this story all to well.”

“The chosen of Nier, however, fell in battle against the forces of the Unspeakable One. Rather than take him from his rightful place in the Paradise of the Gods, Lord Nier chose to anoint both of his children, Virdan and Emman, with His power as one was equally as worthy as the other.  While both manifested power to control Lord Nier’s holy flames, Virdan manifested power that augmented his unmatchable prowess in battle. Emman manifested those abilities that best complemented her grace and speed.  Then the Gods left Mankind to craft a magnificent new empire.”

“Though the Val families had been blessed by the glory of your so-called Gods, they still held in their bosom the baser emotions that even to this day hold sway over all mankind,” said Ilmarė ruefully.  “I remember their petty squabbles as if it were yesterday.”

“The Lady Emman was an untamed beauty, wild and passionate like the val’Sheem, but equally thoughtful and graceful, a worthy bride of Imperators -- or so the first lord of the val’Assante’ felt.  In order to woo her, the first Imperator gave the val’Emman family and all its subjects the fertile land to the south of the Corlathian Mountains, in the area now west of the Coryani Empire.  This infuriated Lord Virdan, who had originally been promised those same lands. During one tempestuous night in court, Lord Virdan demanded the lands of his sister and was not only denied, but also ridiculed by the entire court. Incensed, Lord Virdan cursed the Imperator and vowed that neither he nor his would ever be part of the Imperium. That night, the entire val’Virdan family as well as all its vassal families and subjects abandoned the fledgling Imperium and struck off to the East.”

“If I remember my history correctly,” said Sebastian, “Lord Virdan founded his own small kingship in the lands stretching from what is now northern Canceri east to the city of Erduk in Hinterlands.” 

“Correct. The Imperium prospered, expanded, and eventually abutted the lands of the val’Virdan. Though they were unequaled in battle, after many years of prolonged fighting, the val’Virdan family finally fell to the combined might of the Imperium. Their lands were absorbed into the Imperium and the Imperator decreed that the val’Virdan family would be enslaved and forced to defend the empire that they so hated. Centuries of abuse at the hands of the Imperium eventually resulted in the forging of Leonydes val’Virdan, the Sword of the Heavens, and his resultant insurrection against the Imperium.”

“That explains a lot,” said Vlad. His people had fought Leonydes before.

“During the Sword of the Heavens’ attack, the forces of the val’Emman family were targeted for complete annihilation as the hatred of Lord Virdan had been nurtured across the years, through stories told to children and then repeated to their children and so on. A disgruntled military officer, Jharek of Chendo, made a pact with the Sword of the Heavens. His legion, whose name has been lost through the ages, would lead a portion of the Nierite army through the mighty city’s defenses and capture it with a minimum of bloodshed.  The Sword of the Heavens agreed, but the plan went awry and the city was instead sacked.”

“I expect nothing less from a Nierite,” said Vlad. 

Quintus looked at him strangely. “General Jharek, whose name is now synonymous with traitors, was appalled. He had envisioned being appointed prince of the territory. Instead, he precipitated the destruction of the city and the eradication of the culture of the area. He and his men marched from the city, the weight of their deed weighing heavily upon them. Whenever they were asked the name of their legion, they merely answered, “We are the Doom of Chendo”. Eventually they arrived at the city of Enpebyn and tried to redeem themselves by becoming the eternal guardians of that city. 

“Redemption does not come so easily,” said Beldin.

“Unbeknownst to Jharek, at the command of the Prince of Chendo, another legion had fled the ruin that was being visited upon that doomed city. With them, they carried a chest containing the sum of all the writings and teachings of Chendo. This vessel, called the Ark of Knowledge, was in their possession when they were set upon by a Nierite legion somewhere in this area. A lone survivor from the Nierite legion eventually made it back to the First City and told his tale before dying from exposure and his injuries. He related the battle and told of the Nierites’ destruction, but the Pride of Chendo’s victory was short-lived as a terrible blizzard moved in. Only his faith in Nier was able to keep the frigid weather from killing the young soldier out of hand. He reported that the last he saw of the members of the Pride of Chendo, they were going up the mountainside -- trying to find shelter where none existed.  And thus the last of that noble family and province was wiped clean from history and any mention of it was expunged by the decree of Leonydes val’Virdan himself.”

“And that’s the Ark of Knowledge?” asked Vlad.

Quintus nodded. “What I first called the Ark of Knowledge is correctly called the Ark of the val’Emman. Once sealed, only one of the blood may open it without destroying its contents.” 

Quintus passed his hand over the lock once again. The latch glowed and a loud click rebounded through the icy chamber. 

“Years ago, when we were in Grand Coryan, I did not know where the Ansharan Gate was, do you recall?”

Ilmarė nodded.  Vlad strained to remember.  

“That is because I am not from Grand Coryan at all.  I lied to you, ashamed of my heritage. I am a descendant of the val’Emman as are probably many who now call themselves val’Virdan.” 

Quintus triumphantly threw open the lid. Instantly, a crystal jewel the size of a human fist floated up out of the chest, sparkling with a warm ruddy glow from within. 

“And now, with this, the Mentagi, the legacy of the val’Emman family can be rediscovered and their descendants may take their rightful name once again!” 

Quintus grasped the Mentagi crystal.  A brilliant white light spread from his hands to his arms, and then engulfed his entire body.  He floated up in the air.  The divine energy was so bright that they all covered their eyes.

When they opened them, Quintus stood before them on his own two legs. He looked like a warrior of old, accoutered in the armor and weapons they discovered hidden in the ice.  

“Quintus,” said Ilmarė.  “You have been reborn!”

Vlad peered at Quintus.  “And your eyes are gray. That means…”

“Quintus is now a val,” said Sebastian with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Sibling Rivalry: Conclusion*

The trip back through the portal was as disorienting as ever. Once they regained their bearings, Decimus was standing before them. 

“This is not the same portal chamber,” said Ilmarė. 

“Welcome back, my friends. I feared that you might choose the Gracchi offer instead.” 

“We talked about it at length,” said Sebastian. “But ultimately, I would rather support a rebel than a tyrant.”

“Where are we?” asked Vlad.

“You are in Nevanne.  I apologize for the deception. My employer did not feel it safe for you to return to Savona and instead sought help from an ally.”

“Who is this ally?” asked Beldin.

Decimus began to speak and then was cut off by the sound of marching feet and the opening of the portal chamber’s heavy door. 

General Menisis val’Tensen entered with a small entourage of men. 

“Welcome back from your mission. I’m sure you did not expect to arrive in Nevanne. However, his Eminence, the Archprelate of Beltine, felt it might be more prudent for you to come here rather than for you to return Enpebyn. Please tell me, did you succeed in finding the val’Emman’s Mentagi?” 

Quintus saluted Menisis.  “How do you know of this mission?  Why are you interested in it?”

“Those are all legitimate questions. Decimus’ patron, the Archprelate Morushun val’Ishi, told me of your mission. The Emperor is either under the sway of malignant forces or has gone insane. His Holiness believes that should the Mentagi fall into the Emperor’s hands, he will allow those of the val’Emman family access to it only if they swear fealty to him. I do not wish to see a people freed from the mists of history only to be enslaved as janissaries of a madman.”

“So it is open rebellion then,” Quintus said quietly. 

“You must understand that I have reports of legions deserting their posts and returning to their founding city. Further reports tell of small clashes between Coryani legions in the outskirts of the Foundry as well as a very troubling mention of the disappearance of an entire legion in the Western Marches.  With such chaos rippling through the Empire, I’m sure you agree that Nevanne is a far safer place for your discovery than those contested regions.” He nodded at Decimus. “Decimus has a letter from the Archprelate corroborating what I just explained.” 

“About our payment…” added Vlad.

“The artifacts are property of Quintus’ expedition and by extension, they become the property of the Archprelate. You will be compensated as promised and be given leave to go as you wish.” 

Quintus cleared his throat.  “I have nowhere else to go.  I would stay here and help, if you will have me.”

Menisis assessed Quintus.  “You look different, Quintus.  Stronger.  We would be glad to have you. And the rest of you?”

“We’ve got a friend to catch up with in Altheria,” said Sebastian.  “We need to leave at once.”

“I understand.  You will be escorted with all due haste.  The sooner you’re out of Coryan, the better.  The Emperor will not soon forget this slight.”

The esteemed general nodded again to Decimus and then marched out the way he came. Decimus and the others followed after him.

 “Ilmarė, wait.”  

The elorii paused. Quintus and Ilmarė stared at each other for a long moment. 

“When I had heard you were poisoned in Milandir, I feared the worst.  I went on this quest with the hope that I would find you.  And then this all happened.” Quintus hugged her to him.  “When I was in that closet, when they were cutting me up…all that kept me going was the thought of you.  You were all I could think of, even though I knew you were a thousand miles away.  And you found me.  You found me.”

“I'm sorry,” said Ilmarė. “I'm sorry...”

“Hey...hey...it's okay!” He hugged her tighter. 

“Your new body is different…so thin,” said Ilmarė. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…no…it feels good...” He hadn’t been hugged or barely touched in so long. 

Ilmarė disengaged and looked at him with a familiar smile.

“Back soon, you said you'd be back soon.”

“I know. I was on a mission I couldn’t share with you. With anyone.  The contubernium were my family.  With you gone, they were my world.  Now they’re gone too.” Quintus met her gaze, looked her over with a smile. “You look...wonderful.  I like your hair.”

“I’ve…I’ve found someone else,” Ilmarė said softly. “An elorii.”

“I thought you might have.”

“I would never –“

“I know.”

“I didn't want it to happen.  It just did.  One day Persius was there.  He took care of everything.  He took care of me.  I was…broken.”

“It’s been so long. Are you married?”

Ilmarė shook her head.  “It’s more complicated than that. Some day, I will explain it to you.”

Silence. 

“We’ve changed a lot, haven’t we?”

“We have indeed,” said Ilmarė.  “You and I are more different than ever.”

“And yet, far more alike.” Quintus laughed.  “Now I’m a val in service to a rebel army. And you are trying to help save humans from ssanu.”

Ilmarė’s expression turned serious. “Umor has grown so bold as to manifest as a Valinor before the Emperor. The Gods War is at hand. We may not see each other again.”

Quintus smiled sadly.  “Then this is goodbye.  Farewell, Ilmarė.  Take good care of Kham and the others.”

“Someone has to.”  She squeezed his hand briefly.  Then she turned and walked out of Quintus’ life.

Quintus stood there, uncertain and unwilling to step into his new life right away.  

Decimus stuck his head back in the room.  “Come, Quintus.  We’ve got much work to do and little time to do it.”

“Right,” said Quintus. He approached the two legionnaires who flanked the doorway. 

They both saluted him. “For duty and honor!”

Quintus blinked back tears of surprise.  Finding his voice, he shouted,”For duty and honor!”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 50: The Serpentine Path - Introduction*

This is a Year Two Living Arcanis adventure, “The Serpentine Path” by Derrel Weaver, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Bijoux (fihali druid) played by Melissa Tresca
•	Calactyte (ss’ressen barbarian) played by Joe Tresca (portfolio banking investing mortgage credit at creepyportfolio.com)  
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter/seeker of the cerulean sign) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I was happy with the way this adventure turned out.  It was a four-part marathon played on President’s Day weekend.  Everyone’s playing for keeps this go-round, and it shows.

This war with Ssethregore is a huge deal in our campaign; it ties up Dril, Holden, Kham, and Calactyte’s story arcs, concludes with the reemergence of a major villain, and sets into motion some cataclysmic events that will have far-reaching repercussions.  

And oh yeah, characters are gonna die.  This is a war, and with war comes sacrifices…


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Prologue*

Kham stood before in a reception room, created specifically to impress visitors.  It was in the typical Coryani style, with lounges and low tables, cushions and tapestries.  He hated it.

Luca Gracchi reclined on a divan, watching Kham with partially lidded eyes.  She was still attractive despite her years.  Her arched eyebrows were carefully plucked, her eyelids exquisitely painted, her curly wig the brightest red.  Luca’s erotic skills were legendary, and her age was seen as little hindrance to a woman so schooled in such arts.  Her political influence was due largely in part to her bedroom prowess.  

She was also Kham’s mother.

“It’s nice of you to visit,” she sneered at him.

Kham grabbed a bottle of Savonan wine from a slave who held it at the ready.  He took a swig.  It took a lot of alcohol to deal with his mother. “Yeah, well, I was in town and with dad dying and all, I thought it was time for a reunion.”

Luca barked a laugh.  It was very unladylike. “You would do that.  You wouldn’t attend your own father’s funeral, just to embarrass me.”

“Me?”  Kham stopped drinking to look at her incredulously. “Don’t you mean us?  I was out saving the world.  What was your excuse?”

“That’s precisely the point.”  Lucca sniffed.  “I expected you to represent the family because I couldn’t be there myself.”

“And why not?” 

“Don’t get fresh with me, boy. You know precisely why not.”

Kham put one finger to his forehead.  “Ah yes, let’s see if my val gifts do me justice.” He closed his eyes.  “Right.” He opened them again.  “Because it wouldn’t do for a lady who consorts with Coryani senators to be seen in Altheria.”

Lucca’s lip tugged slightly at one corner.  “Perceptive as ever.  You’re right, I couldn’t go.  With civil war looming no loyal Coryani in her right mind would travel.  Besides, the Altherians have recalled all the Shining Patrol and every able-bodied Altherian citizen.”

Kham blinked.  “Since when?”

“Since this week.  You’ve haven’t heard?  While the Emperor has to deal with that traitor Menisis, Altheria’s been fretting over the Ssethregorans.  They think war is afoot and they’re mustering arms to prepare.” She waved the whole issue away with a gesture. “It’s just a matter of time, really.” 

“So that’s what this is about.” Kham’s expression hardened.  “You want me to go back to Altheria as a citizen.”

“Of course.  The least you can do is visit the site of your father’s grave.  Fortunately for you, there was no body, so you were excused from bathing your father’s corpse.”  Lucca’s lip sneered in contempt. 

“Since when are you so concerned about religion?” Kham peered at Lucca. “You’re not worried about father at all. You’re worried about Pallas.”

Lucca’s lips became a thin red line.

“You’re afraid I’m going to say something bad about Pallas.  And you don’t want word to get out about it.”

“Our family has suffered enough embarrassment,” she said in low tones.  “We don’t need anyone branded a traitor.”

Kham stood up.  “Well, mother, you don’t have to worry about that.  I was planning to go to Altheria all along, to pay my respects, to dad AND Pallas.” He grabbed the wine bottle from the startled slave.

Kham was about to leave when Lucca’s voice stopped him. It was kind, soft, a rare display of weakness. “One more thing, child.”

 “Yes, mother?”

“Did you get him?”

“Dad’s killer?” Kham didn’t turn around.  “Yeah.  I blew his head right off.”

Her eyes brimming with tears, Lucca’s face split into a grin.  “Good boy,” she whispered.

He left. Lucca wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief provided by a slave.  

“Did you spike the wine?”

The slave nodded. “Yes, domina, exactly as you asked. He will sleep for days.”

“Good,” she smirked.  “Kham’s friends might make some poor choices, but I’ll not have my son committing treason against the Emperor.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 1a – The Hand of Fate*

The city of Althre’ was truly a wonder to behold. Althre’ was a mountaintop labyrinth composed of sculpted rock and delicate-looking bridges that stretched for miles, connecting the expanding boundaries of the city. Every building was a function of beauty and utility. Every piece of stone was a carved work of art, every street a wonder.  

Sebastian, Beldin, and Vlad had wandered for several days through the city in awe. At first, there seemed to be too many scenic wonders to visit.  Kham, delayed for days by his mothers actions, eventually met them there. He acted as their guide, showing them such wonders as the Vault of Memory, the Vault of Utility, one of the Shrines of the Gift, and the Great Library of Althares.  

“Normally I’d take you to see the Council of Wisdom,” said Kham with a bit of pride in his voice, “but they’re in session and admittance is forbidden except for official business.  I’ve got to go visit the Grand Church of Althares.” He nodded at a restaurant labeled, “The Hand of Fate.”  “You can hang out here until I’m finished.”

Kham led the way into the restaurant, only to discover that The Hand of Fate was being used as a wedding reception for a priest of Althares.  

“What are those nine owls for?” asked Vlad.

Kham craned his neck while he waited for the restaurant owner to meet them.  “Those? That means this is the priest’s ninth wife.”

“Ninth wife!” Sebastian peered into the room with consternation. “Did he kill the other eight?”

Kham smirked. “Worse. He just married them.”

“Nine wives,” said Beldin in disbelief.  “Now that’s stamina.”

The busy restaurant owner had a hushed conversation with Kham.  Eventually, Kham won the argument. 

“They’re busy, but the cuisine here is excellent and I called in a favor.  Try to stay out of trouble.”  With a wink, Kham left the restaurant.

A waitress took them over to a rickety-looking second floor rear balcony, away from the wedding party.  Once the table was prepared and food was delivered, the servants quickly left them to their meal.

“Dril’s supposed to meet us, right?” said Vlad.  “I hear Calactyte and Bijoux will be joining us too.”

“Yes.  Ilmarė is leading them separately on a caravan headed for Semar,” said Sebastian. “I advised Calactyte against coming to Althre’, but he insisted.  It’s a bad time to have scales in a city like this.”

“It’s a beautiful city,” said Beldin.  “Even by dwarven standards.”

The view from the balcony was breathtaking. Portions of The Great Stair were visible.  They could make out the bustling traffic that wound its way along the carved stone stairway, passing under the magnificent trio of waterfalls known as the Tresses of Saluwe’. The mist from the waterfalls was reflected in the early morning sunlight, creating a huge rainbow that framed the scene and provided a calming ambiance.  

The view was so beautiful that it took a moment for raised voices below the balcony to register.

“I’m not interested,” said a firm, resolute voice. “Now get lost.”

“I know that voice. That’s Dril!” exclaimed Vlad.

“Listen friend,” responded a silky smooth voice. “Travel through the mountains is a dangerous prospect without proper protection. Perhaps you should reconsider our offer.”

“I am NOT your friend,” said Dril. “And I am NOT interested.”

“You would be wise to accept our protection, MERCHANT.  We know your guards have deserted you.  You NEED us. Or do you expect your beloved Althares to send you replacements falling from the sky like rain?”

Several other voices burst into laughter.

“I’ve heard enough—” Vlad kicked back from the table, rising from his chair.  As he did so, the rickety balcony gave way with a loud CRACK! 

Vlad and Beldin tumbled forward with a crash, smashing into seat cushions on the floor.  Sebastian, his wings freed from their confines, slowly floated down to the table below and landed at its center before the startled men.  

Sebastian addressed Dril, hands on his hips.  “You rang?” he asked with a smirk.

Dril’s right hand tightly grasped the hilt of a scimitar on his left hip, but with Sebastian’s arrival, his demeanor changed. Dril loosened his grip and a broad smile creased his face.  

“As a matter of fact, yes. Althares always provides for his faithful.” He nodded at Sebastian.  “Thanks for dropping in.”

Vlad and Beldin got their feet, weapons at the ready.

The six light-skinned men who had been accosting Dril were startled by their arrival.  They all wore long swords, heavy chain armor, and green tabards that bore a four-fingered claw insignia. They looked at each other, and then silently turned to leave.

“Sssuit yourssself MERCHANT!” one of them snarled over his shoulder.  “You’ll be sssorry!”

The other members of the group quickly gathered their friend and disappeared in the crowded streets.

Vlad watched them go, filled with a creeping dread.  He had heard that lisp before.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 1b – The Hand of Fate*

Kham dreaded attending the Grand Church, but he knew it fell to him to perform the ritual for his cousin and, by proxy, make up for his absence at his father’s ceremony. Kham held the incinerated remains of Pallas high above his head. Mourners he had hired surrounded him. 

Kham chanted the Altharu Akbar:

_Praise be to Althares, Lord of the Universe, 
the Mercygiving, the Merciful! 
Ruler on the Day for Repayment! 
You we worship and You we call on for help. 
Guide us along the Straight Road, 
the road of those whom You have favored, 
with whom You are not angry, 
nor who are lost! _

He concluded the prayer in Altherian with “Assalamu alaikum.” It translated to, “peace be with you.”

The funeral procession traveled slowly from the Grand Church to the gravesite, in a horse-drawn hearse. Kham walked beside it in silence.  

The val’Abebi gravesite was enormous.  Although devout Altherians believed that extravagant decorations were unnecessary and could be better spent on the needy, val vanity required something more.  They were covered in small domes called makaams. Unlike traditional graves, Altherian graves were always elevated at least a foot above the ground so that none could walk over it. 

Normally, handfuls of soil in the grave would be poured on the face of the corpse, but there was no corpse.  Instead, Kham took the ashes of Pallas and poured them into a small hole.

“We created you from it, and return you into it, and from it we will raise you a second time,” chanted Kham.

The Priest of Althares said more prayers. 

Kham addressed the small crowd of men who had gathered there.  Cousins, nieces, nephews…there were many that carried the val’Abebi name who didn’t know each other directly.  It didn’t matter; they still came to pay their respects.

“Pallas was a good man, who died in a strange land.  But he was doing Althares’ will.  A true patriot, he loved his country and died protecting it.  When the valinor judge his life, I am certain they will not find him wanting.”

In truth, Kham wasn’t so sure.  It was believed that two valinor judged each Altherian after death, quizzing the deceased about Althares. Worse, the dead were supposed to be able to hear the words of the living.  If Pallas had any chance of getting into heaven, Kham would have to only think good thoughts about him.

It was easy to believe Corinalous, a virtuous man, would pass the test of the valinor with ease.  But Kham wasn’t so sure about Pallas. His cousin believed he was right in killing ss’ressen eggs.  

The question was: did Althares agree? Kham thought about that as he left to meet his companions.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 2 – The Crazy Old Fool*

Following the winding caravan trail was not a difficult task. Though the trail snaked its way around various mountain peaks, it was very well traveled and maintained. 

Vlad patted the corded neck of the stallion beneath him.  “These horses are amazing.”

Dril allowed himself a smile.  “They’re the best trained horses in Onara. I’ve taught them several tricks, in fact.”

“Have we much further?” asked Sebastian.  He had to ride in the cart, as no horse, not even Dril’s legendary mounts, would carry him. 

“We should meet up with the caravan bound for Klos Ka’Ra tomorrow…” Dril trailed off as he focused on a lone figure on the trail ahead.

A very old man leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick as he made his way down the road.  

“This is the path, yes, the serpentine path…creatures of light and creatures of night, either may lead you to sorrow.  For they wind together down a serpentine path, and the rest of Onara will follow!”

He broke into hysterical laughter and a coughing fit.  

“He’s blind,” said Vlad.

Noticing Vlad, the old man became agitated. He began another conversation with himself. “Eh?  You? Do I know you? No, it can’t be.  I saw you in Semar. Or, will I see you in Semar? How can you see if you are blind? Ah, the light of Illiir illuminates all.  But is that now or later? Hmmm.  Strange…are you late, or early? Shouldn’t you already be in Semar? I’m hungry!  What’s for supper?”

Vlad and Dril exchanged glances.  

“Heed his words,” said Beldin softly.  “I feel a kinship with this creature.  It only wears the cloak of a man.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “So I guess we better feed him then.”

They dismounted and began to make camp.  

Despite his blindness, the old man had an uncanny knack for following people with his head, clearly addressing them. “The trees have ears and the rocks have eyes,” he said to Dril. “The sticks are snakes! I tell no lies!”

“I believe you,” Dril said semiseriously. He preoccupied himself with tethering the horses.

“The knowledge you seek is found within,” the old man said to Beldin.  “Be true to your heart and redeem your kin!”

“I am doing my best,” Beldin said morosely. 

“An ancient evil is stirring.  Semar is not the prize.” He addressed Kham. “Hidden within is their goal—more power than you realize!”

“Uh huh,” said Kham.  He took a swig from a wineskin.  “This is great! He’s got a saying for everything. Hey old man, tell me about this one!” And with that, Kham lifted one leg and let forth a rip-roaring fart.

The old man sniffed the air. “There once was an Altherian monk, whose foot odor rivaled a skunk.  He’d go down to the stream, and scrub his feet clean, and the river would stink for a month!”

Kham broke into a giggling fit.  “See?”

“The dread king has been weakened but his reach yet extends,” the old man told Sebastian. “Your very survival, upon discretion may depend.”

Sebastian shook the wings from beneath his cloak.  “It’s a little late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing for me?” Vlad asked, a little irritated.

“An emperor most foul will sunder the pact, cowering in fear when promised to act. Causing Hurrian’s chosen much devastation, loyalties split along with a nation. Blood will flow from brother on brother.  First one war, and then another.”

“Sorry I asked,” muttered Vlad.

“This is great!” Kham was clearly entertained by the whole spectacle.  “Tell us more old man!”

“Dark deeds are needed to combat the One Nameless.  Absorbing the elemental essence, the gods of man are blameless!”

“Ha!” shouted Kham, sloshing his wineskin.  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along!”

“Watch the babbling idiot,” Dril told Vlad. “I don’t want him wandering off in the middle of the night and getting himself hurt.”

“What about the old man?” asked Vlad with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 3a – So, We Meet Again…*

They met up the other half of the caravan a few days later.   The cat-like Bijoux, scaled Calactyte, and the elorii known as Ilmarė road one wagon alone.  Only Ilmarė held the reins; her two bestial companions sat in the wagon behind her.

“Where’s the rest of the caravan?” asked Dril from his own wagon.

Ilmarė hesitated.  “They were…not willing to go along.”

“The guards left us suddenly,” Bijoux said softly, her tail flicking in agitation.  “They did not explain why.”

“Fear,” grunted Cal.  “I could smell it on them.”

Dril suppressed a smile.  “It’s understandable.  With a war with Ssethregore imminent, most Altherians will be nervous around a ss’ressen.”

“But you’re not,” Cal said morosely.

Kham sat up from the back of a wagon led by Vlad.  He was obviously drunk.  “We know better,” was all he said. Then he lay back down.

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.  “I’ve known them well enough for the past five days.  Is it much further?”

“We’re less than a day away,” said Dril.  

“And yet it’s nowhere in sight,” muttered Beldin from the back of his mount.  Sebastian sat in Dril’s wagon.

Calactyte sat upright in the cart led by Vlad.  He was parallel with Sebastian.  

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Sebastian stood up to look at Calactyte over the edge of the cart.  “For what?”

“For saving my life and my tribe,” said Cal.  “I am in your debt.”

Sebastian smiled.  “You would have done the same for us, I’m sure.”

Calactyte merely nodded and reclined back in the cart.  Sebastian did the same.

The path had risen for the hundredth time to go up over a mountain pass, between two weather-beaten hills. Rocky outcroppings jutted from nearly everywhere.  Vegetation was sparse.

Sebastian stood bolt upright.  “Something’s wrong.” His wings spread out behind him, wand at the ready.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there before you know—“ was all Dril got out before his wagon erupted in a violent explosion of fire and debris.  

The Altherian mounts were steadfast, but the wagon team neighed in terror as the wagon flew high in the air. With a mournful groan, the wagon split in mid-air and began a slow, scattered return.  Flaming remnants of the wagon and its contents came spilling down all around like a grisly hailstorm from the abyss.

Sebastian landed, propelled upwards by the blast.  There was no trace of Dril, only the tinkling of wood and metal all around him.  “Ambush!” he shouted. 

Out from either side of the road loped nine ss’ressen.

“Incendiares globus!” shouted Sebastian.  A fireball surged forth from his fingertips, engulfing the ss’ressen on the left side of the road. 

They kept coming.  

“Get down!” shouted Calactyte, brandishing his axe.  “Those are flaming tongue ss’ressen!”

Sebastian ducked behind Vlad’s wagon where it had been overturned from the explosion.  

The sagittal crests of the flaming tongue ss’ressen flushed a ruddy color just before they exhaled fiery death. Several of the team horses, already battered from the explosion, screeched in agony.

Ilmarė was on her feet.  She fired at one of the flaming tongue ss’ressen, felling it with two arrows. 

Bijoux landed beside her and snapped a sling shot towards a ss’ressen with two rows of thick spines down its back rather than a crest.  It bounced off the lizard’s thick skull. 

“There’s too many!” she shouted.

“I like the odds!” bellowed Beldin.  He yanked hard on the reins of his horse and galloped into the melee, decapitating a flaming tongue ss’ressen with one swing.

Vlad rammed one of the barbed tails with his shield and hacked into the side of its neck.  It batted the blade aside with a shrug of its shoulders. “Where’s Dril?”

Kham stumbled out from behind Vlad’s overturned wagon and took careful aim with two of his pistols.  The barrels jerked and another ss’ressen’s head kicked back, but it kept coming.

A bellowing roar caused everyone to stop in their tracks.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 3b – So, We Meet Again…*

Muscle rippling, his dual crests fanning behind Calactyte’s head, the ss’ressen seemed to grow in stature, teeth bared. All the ss’ressen on the battlefield turned to face him, even those in mid-combat. 

“The frenzy has taken them!” shouted Ilmarė.  “Get out of their way!” She twirled aside as one of the barbed tail ss’ressen barreled past her towards Cal.

“What?” shouted Vlad.  “No way!”  He held his ground as another barbed tail ss’ressen approached.  Its claws scrabbled against Vlad’s shield.   “Ha!” He lifted his blade for an easy blow.  “My turn—“

There was a blinding flash as the ss’ressen heavy tail struck him sideways.  Stunned, Vlad stumbled.  The ss’ressen jumped past him towards Cal.

“Protect Cal!” shouted Beldin.  “They’re after him!”

Beldin hacked downwards on an unprepared ss’ressen, severing its tail.  It howled in agony, only to have its legs cut out from under it.

Calactyte roared again.  With one massive claw, he grabbed one of the smaller ss’ressen by the head and shook it like a rag doll.  The other, gripping his axe, was logged in a ss’ressen’s ribcage. He ducked low and swept the area with his tail, battering flaming tongue ss’ressen aside.

Ilmarė fired arrows into the backs of one of the attacking lizards.  It didn’t react as it continued its heedless assault.

Bijoux glided down beside her.  “They fight like creatures possessed.  Why do they hate Cal so?”

“It’s not that they hate him,” said Ilmarė.  “They were once bred for war against each other.  When a ss’ressen smells the scent of another tribe, it goes into a blood frenzy.”

“Then they will kill him,” said Bijoux.  “There are too many.”

Ilmarė shook her head and pointed at Sebastian.

The dark-kin’s wings were spread behind him.  “Beldin, Vlad!  Get ready!” He didn’t bother to address Calactyte—in his rage, he wouldn’t listen anyway.

“Incendiares…”

The ss’ressen stopped attacking Calactyte.  They turned as one to face Sebastian.  

Beldin crouched behind his shield.  Vlad held Grungronazharr before him.

“Globus!”

The ensuing ball of flames consumed Calactyte, Beldin, and Vlad.  The flaming tongue ss’ressen, immune to Sebastian’s attack, were felled before they could recover.  Calactyte was covered in ash, smoke spiraling from his scorched scales.  

“Well done,” said Vlad.  “Now we can concentrate on finding Dril.”

Bijoux glided over to the Milandisian. Her eyes were brimming with tears.  “Vlad…I can’t find him.”

“He must have been thrown from the explosion.”  Vlad looked around helplessly.  “Why aren’t you looking for him?”

“Because there’s nothing to find,” Kham said softly. 

“What?  That’s it?”  Vlad stared at them in disbelief.  “You’re just going to write him off?  Sebastian, you survived that explosion!  You can’t tell me Dril wouldn’t have survived it!”

Sebastian averted his gaze.  Only his flicking tail betrayed his agitation. 

“He’s dead, Vlad,” said Ilmarė forcefully.  “There’s no body to find.  That explosion was too powerful, even for him.  And he wasn’t prepared.”

Vlad’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.  He slumped to the ground. 

Calactyte lifted his head to the air, nostrils flaring.  “We’re not done.”

Vlad looked over his shoulder at the big lizard, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“There’s a ssanu…leading them…I can smell his scent.” One clawed hand reached out towards Vlad. “He’s ordering them to…attack us.” 

Ilmarė drew her bow and pointed it at Calactyte.  “Get away from him!”

Bijoux thrust her own clawed hand out to stay Ilmarė’s hand.  “Please.  Trust him.”

Slowly, gently, Calactyte put one hand on Vlad’s shoulder.  “Get up.” He growled. “Or Dril’s sacrifice will be in vain.”

Three more ss’ressen, scales tinged a greenish-black, stepped onto the road.  Behind them was a serpentine ssanu, casting a spell.

Vlad got up.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 3c – So, We Meet Again…*

“Venomous scale ss’ressen!” shouted Calactyte.  He charged forward, Vlad and Beldin flanking him.  “Keep your shields up!”

They didn’t have to ask why.  Seconds later, streams of acid spiraled through the air, splashing against both their shields.  Calactyte was struck by a gout of acid, but if it hurt he didn’t show it.  

Then they were upon them, three on three, claw against blade.  Sebastian pointed at the ssanu, and magical bolts of blue and black energy were exchanged.

“I’ve had just about enough of this,” muttered Kham.  He took aim and fired both pistols.  The ssanu fell to the ground, its corpse smoking from the impact.

The remaining ss’ressen started, as if slapped.  Calactyte took the opportunity to tear one of them apart, hacking and even biting his opponent’s throat.  Vlad and Beldin made short work of the other two ss’ressen.

They scoured the camp, looking for any sign of Dril.

“We found only this.” Beldin offered up a twisted piece of metal, bent in half.  It was Dril’s rifle.

Vlad took it reverently.  “He would want it to be buried at his grave.”

Bijoux glided over to the ssanu’s body. A small viper had unwrapped itself from the ssanu’s arm and was slowly sliterhing away.

“Careful,” said Ilmarė.  “You don’t know what that can do.”

The snake moved no more than a foot, before it stiffened and burned into a darkly shaded piece of wood.  Bijoux picked it up and examined it closely.

With lightning speed, it transformed back into a snake and sunk its teeth into Bijoux’s wrist.  She shrieked, but it was too late.  The snake snapped itself around her arm and then transformed once more into wood.  

“Are you all right?” asked Beldin.

Bijoux nodded.  “It…it feels good, actually. I think it heals them.”

“The goods from the wagon are scattered everywhere,” said Sebastian. 

“Including some of Master Elabac’s blades,” Beldin said sadly.

“And the remains of a Shining Patrol dispatch pouch.”  Vlad shook his head.  “Dril wasn’t telling us the whole story.”

“He belonged to the Shining Patrol, what did you expect?” snapped Kham.  “What I want to know is where the ss’ressen got all that blastpowder from.”

“What a waste,” said Ilmarė.  “We walk away from this empty-handed.”

“Not quite.”  Beldin was gathering up weapons and armor.  “We’ll make sure this delivery reaches Klos Ka’Ra. Master Elabac’s blades deserve that much.”

“Dril deserves that much,” Vlad said darkly.

Sebastian returned with Calactyte. “Perhaps it wasn’t a complete waste. We discovered tracks that led back to their camp.”

Calactyte loped over to drop a chest covered in dirt before them.  “We found this.”

Ilmarė opened the lid and looked inside.  She pulled out a sheaf of papers.  “Maps of the area, a manifest of Dril’s cargo…and a list. In Ssethregoran, I’m guessing.”

She handed it to Calactyte, who stared at it curiously.  “Uh…”

“He can’t even read his own language.”  Kham snatched the paper away from Calactyte. His val blood allowed him to read all tongues.  “It’s a list of all of our names.  This was an inside job.”

Sebastian sighed. “Well, now we know how they got the blastpowder.”

“How?” asked Bijoux.

Sebastian held up a piece of clothing.  It was a green tabard bearing a four-fingered claw insignia.  

“We gave it to them.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 4a – Do I Know You?*

As the sun reached its peak and began to descend in the western sky, the journey continued to take them higher and higher into the mountain peaks.  Just when it seemed as if they might actually reach the sun, Klos Ka’Ra came into view.

Klos ka’Ra was no simple mountain outpost.  Massive columns of stone supported thirty-foot thick stone walls that extended from an inner keep.  The inner keep was carved into the mountain itself, providing natural protection from all sides save the one covered by the huge wall.  Dozens of cannons bristled on the wall and hundreds of well-armed Altherian patrolmen marched to and fro along the battlements.  

“Interesting construction,” admired Beldin.  

Sebastian tilted his head at Beldin.  “How so?”

“From the looks of it, twelve stone archways have been recently added to the wall’s interior structure, but they don’t lead anywhere.  The decorative artwork seems out of place.”

Several other caravans were also making their way into the hidden fortress from different directions. As the sun dropped below the mountain line directly behind Klos Ka’Ra, it created a warm halo of light around the fortress.  

“Don’t try to understand Altherian architecture,” said Kham.  “Just enjoy it.”

A tall, powerfully built man wearing the blue and white tabard of the Patrol approached.  He had the insignia of a captain on his tabard, and beneath it he wore exquisitely crafted plate armor made of exotic materials crafted with red flames. The flames on his armor matched the shock of fiery red hair that crowned his head.  

“Well if it isn’t Attalus val’Virdan.”  Kham recognized him from the Great Hunt.

“Kham!  Ilmarė! It’s good to see you both.”  He shook both their hands.  “You’re keeping strange company these days.”

Ilmarė looked sideways at her companions and shrugged.

“Come in, come in!” Attalus ushered both of them into the keep.

When Vlad attempted to follow, a hand stopped him.  “Not you, Milandisian.”  Attalus’ eyes narrowed.  “You and the lizard can bunk down with the rest of the freaks in the stables.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 4b – Do I Know You?*

Kham and Ilmarė spent the remainder of the night as Attalus’ guest in the Shining Patrol’s officer’s quarters. Kham and Ilmarė were served a hot gourmet meal and a stout drink. 

“Please, eat, drink.  It must have been a long journey.”

“It was,” Kham said between mouthfuls.  “The caravan was ambushed, but we recovered what we could.”

Attalus nodded. “And I am thankful for that.  It seems you are always saving my hide, one way or another.”  He grinned a white-toothed smile.  It quickly vanished.  “I did not see the dispatch pouch amongst the inventory.”

Kham took a swig from a goblet.  “Destroyed, sorry.”

Ilmarė leaned forward and poked at a piece of meat with a fork.  “What are you doing here, Attalus? Last we met, you were in Coryan.”

“Ah yes.  I’ve been here for the last several months.  My service is almost complete.  General Bunkakin recently put me in charge of the fortress to make sure the new operations proceed smoothly.”

“So Garan pulled some strings.”  Kham chomped on another mouthful of food.

“Garan val’Mehan and Muatama Bunkakin once served together in the Patrol.” Attalus frowned.  “He thought it’d be safer for me here.”

Ilmarė sipped from her goblet. “Safer?” 

“Although there have been recent reports of Ssethregoran movements and activities, that’s not out of the ordinary.  General Bunkakin seems to think that the region is in some pending danger.  We can house several thousand troops here now.”  Attalus leaned back in his chair.  “In fact, our biggest problem is getting dispatch pouches from Althre’!”

Kham stopped chewing.  “All the Shining Patrol has been called back to Altheria, along with all able-bodied Altherian citizens.  That sounds like preparations of war to me.”

Attalus shrugged.  “The general has been stockpiling ammunition and even set up labs and workshops within the fortress to manufacture war materials.  I don’t know why he doesn’t do it in the citadel at Semar.  It’d be much safer there.”

“So Bunkakin thinks a war is imminent,” said Ilmarė. 

“I’m not sure.  The general sure is peculiar sometimes.  He makes a big fuss over preparing for war, and then authorized a huge project just to build a bunch of statues of old Heroes of the Patrol.  I still don’t understand why priests of Anshar would be commissioned for such a project. But what do I know, I’m just a soldier.”

“Yes.” Ilmarė peered at Attalus disdainfully over her mug. “Just.”

Attalus didn’t catch her tone.  “Do you have business in Semar or will you be returning to Althre’?”

Kham cleared his throat.  “I uh…have business there, yeah.”

“Kham came to Althre’ to pay respects to his deceased father and cousin.”

“Oh.” Attalus’ expression turned grim.  “I’m sorry.  As a member of the Shining Patrol, we will provide Dril with a memorial service tomorrow morning.“

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “I’ve done enough of that lately.”

Attalus nodded.  “Death seems to come in waves.”  He clapped his hands.  “Enough talk about such things. You’ve a hot bath and tub waiting for you, and goose down bedding to sleep on.  Let it not be said that Attalus knows no hospitality!”

“What of the others?” asked the elorii.

“Oh, they’ll be taken care of.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 4c – Do I Know You?*

Bijoux, Vlad, Beldin, Sebastian, and Calactyte spent the remainder of the night alone under heavy guard in the Shining Patrol’s stables.  They had a well-watched and somewhat restful evening, but they weren’t allowed to leave the stables except to visit the privy.  Even those trips were under heavy guard.

“This sucks,” said Vlad. 

“Why are they treating us like this?” Bijoux asked morosely.

“Because of who we are and where we come from,” said Beldin.  

Calactyte snorted.  “And because of me.”

There was a knock at stable door.  A guard handed them a tray of stale bread and moldy cheese.  

“Anywhere we can clean up?” asked Bijoux.

The guard pointed to a water trough.  “You’re a cat, right?  Clean yourself.”

Sebastian looked down at the ground. “I suppose these saddle blankets and hay are our bedding.”

Calactyte shrugged.  “Looks comfortable to me.” The big lizard stretched out and was asleep in no time, snoring louder than ever.

“Can’t we just go home?” Bijoux asked hopefully.

“I have business in Semar.”  Sebastian tried to fluff up a nearby saddle blanket. 

“And I’m going with him,” said Beldin.

Bijoux looked askance at Calactyte.  “Cal believes he owes you his life, so he’ll follow you there.  And that means I’m going as well.”

Vlad sighed.  “I have nowhere else to go.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 4d – Do I Know You?*

The next morning, they all gathered at a grave site for soldiers.  Dril’s surviving Altherian steeds drew the black carriage, containing only his rifle.

“Present ARMS!” shouted Attalus. 

The casket was removed from the carriage.  Attalus and Kham saluted.

An Altherian priest led the way to the grave site, followed by Sebastian, Calactyte, Vlad, and Beldin holding the casket.
They set down the casket and secured the Altherian flag, a white owl on a blue background. 

Attalus ensured the flag was stretched out and level, and centered it over the casket.  He backed away and the priest performed the service. 

_“Praise be to Althares, Lord of the Universe, 
the Mercygiving, the Merciful! 
Ruler on the Day for Repayment! 
You do we worship and You do we call on for help. 
Guide us along the Straight Road, 
the road of those whom You have favored, 
with whom You are not angry, 
nor who are lost!”_

The priest said, “_assalamu alaikum_.”

“_Assalamu alaikum_,” whispered Kham.

The priest backed away and Attalus stepped up to the casket.  He turned to address the cannoneers along Klos Ka’Ra’s walls. 

“Fire!”

Like thunder, the sounds of cannon fire collided with each other, setting off a mournful dirge throughout the mountains.

The cannon volley complete, a bugler played a sorrowful tune.  Kham folded the flag up precisely and securely.  He passed it to Attalus. 

Attalus turned and presented the Altherian flag to Vlad. “Please accept our deepest condolences from the Shining Patrol on the passing of your friend and an Altherian veteran. We stand with honor for him who stood for us.”

Attalus then led them out in a slow procession to the gates of Klos Ka’Ra. 

Bijoux looked over her shoulder as they left.  Only one soldier was left at the grave site. He would watch over the casket until it was interred in the ground.

“They treated Vlad so poorly, and yet now showed such respect,” whispered Bijoux.  “Why?”

“Stupid humans,” replied Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 5a – Arrival in Semar*

From a nearby mountaintop, the massive form of the Black Citadel of Semar loomed.  An imposing structure, it was carved from a single black piece of rock that rivaled the nearest mountain in size.  

“They say that Semar was originally a military outpost built on an ancient ruin,” said Kham.  

“I’ve heard that the mountain fortress houses ancient treasures of supreme power that even the scholars of Althares are unable to unlock,” said Beldin.

Ilmarė snorted. “I’ve heard that the Citadel has magic powers too.  That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

The Citadel’s uniform black composition definitely made it look evil.  Carvings of demonic figures and valinor locked in a titanic battle decorated the outer walls and only heightened the foreboding that oozed from the fortress.  Cannons protruded from the walls at regular intervals, their barrels house d protectively in stone carvings of infernal creatures.  

“Looks like the city’s undergone some growth spurts since it was first established as a military outpost,” said Beldin. “The stone walls extended outward from the stronghold in a regular pattern.”

“Commerce has certainly made it grow,” observed Sebastian. “Judging from the swarm of activity in the city, business must be good.”

There was a distinct difference between Semar and Althre.  In Althre, the entire city was a work of art.  In contrast, Semar seemed plain and dull.  A half-finished moat lay just outside the third wall.  

“Those archways look familiar,” said Beldin. As they passed through the giant wooden gates, several artisans were visible working on stone archways that looked remarkably similar to the ones in Klos Ka’Ra.  

“They’ve got a long way to go if they wish to rival Althre’,” said Kham. “You should stay at the Shining Shield Inn.”

“Where are you going?” asked Ilmarė. 

“I’ve got to meet a man about a horse.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 5b – Arrival in Semar*

The note Kham received when he was at Klos Ka’Ra indicated that Quablo val’Inares, a politician in Semar, wanted to meet with him for a matter of “unquestionable discretion.”  

Finding the council building was a relatively easy task. The building was built to be a very small-scale replica of the meeting chamber for the Council of Wisdom in Althre’.  Traveling thorough the first two walls of the city was easy: A cursory glance from some sharpshooters manning the walls and a couple of simple questions asked at the gates.  But the third wall was entirely different.

The guard at the gate put one hand in front of Kham’s face.  “Halt.  Papers please.”

“Oh yeah.” Kham took out the document and showed it to the guard.  As he did so, his overcoat revealed the pistol bandoleer across his chest. 

“Do you have proper authorization to carry those?”

Kham lowered his green-tinted lenses, revealing his pupiless eyes. “Take a look.”

The guard stiffened.  “Right.” He handed Kham’s papers back to him. “We’ll escort you.”

Once through the gate, Kham was taken under escort to the council building.  At the building, he was once again subjected to questioning and a thorough search.  He was then ushered into a waiting area.

A dark-skinned man met Kham.  “Hello.  I am Washaka, Quablo’s personal aide.” He handed Kham a glass of wine.  “Savonan Red.  I was told you enjoy it.”

Kham downed the drink in one shot.  Washaka seemed unfazed. “You’ve done your homework.”

Washaka merely smiled and ushered Kham into a waiting room.  

After a brief wait, Washaka returned and led him to a palatial inner chamber that obviously served as an office of someone of import.  Seated behind a large marble desk, a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing blue silken robes rose in greeting.

“Hello my friend.  I am Quablo val’Inares.  Thank you so very much for coming on such short notice!  Please, make yourself comfortable.”  He motioned to carved marble chairs with silk upholstered cushions.

“Don’t mind if I do.”  Kham flopped down on one of them.  “So what’s this job you’re talking about?”

“I will come straight to the point.  I believe the general in charge of the garrison of Semar is misappropriating funds.  I need an outside, unbiased investigator to look into this matter for the good of the Altherian people.”

“What’s Bunkakin done to make you suspicious?”

“I am suspicious of him because of all the recent activity at Klos Ka’Ra.  Bunkakin also contracted most of the alchemists, armorers and weapon smiths in Semar.  All his men are equipped beyond their means.  I understand he has several import-export contracts with the merchant’s guild as well.  I would like to know what exactly Bunkakin is importing and exporting and where is getting all this funding.  I know the military budget doesn’t even cover a fraction of the activity I’ve seen around here lately.”

“Interesting.  I can do this, sure.  Any place you want me to start?”

”Well, I have a list of likely places to find information and why I think the information may be there.  The most likely place to start is the headquarters of the patrol.  I understand they have a soldier on guard tonight who has been reported for drinking and sleeping on duty.” Quablo broke into a broad grin that only made him seem more sinister.”

He handed Kham a list.

“And pay?”

“Two-hundred owls for your trouble.  I’m sure that a capable individual like yourself can have this wrapped up in no time.”

“Okay.”  Kham got to his feet. 

“Very good.  Washaka will see you have any paperwork you need to pass unmolested between the walls.  I’m afraid I cannot grant you access to the citadel itself; even I am forbidden to go there except in the vent of an attack.  In case you haven’t noticed, the Shining Patrol is VERY dedicated to their job.  I would strongly advise against provoking or antagonizing them.  This investigation may do precisely that, so I recommend discretion.”

“Yeah, I know how to handle discrete matters,” said Kham.  He turned to walk out the door.

“Be wary of Bunkakin,” said Quablo.  “The general is as smooth as a val’Mehan emissary and as duplicitous as a Freeport slaver.”

“I’m familiar with both, thanks.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 6a – The Shining Shield Inn*

The Shining Shield Inn was the finest in Semar.  Constructed of a shiny golden-hued stone, it literally shined in the sunlight.  The crystal shield hanging from the signpost at the front of the inn was positioned to catch one of the light rays emitted from the Tower of Althares at night.  When the light struck the shield, it glowed with a brilliance of its own.

Sebastian walked over to the bar.  “I hear you have a special stew?”

The bartender looked at him curiously.  “You should sit and enjoy the show, my friend.  I’m sure we can dig something up for you.”

On stage, a beautiful veiled woman belly-danced, her hips snapping at high speed.  She leaned forward and gestured toward Sebastian.

Sebastian shifted in his seat.  The woman stepped off the stage and took off one of her veils, roping it around the dark-kin’s neck.   She leaned close, so close that Sebastian could feel her breath on his ear.

“Go to the privy. Now.”

She continued to dance around him and then, just as quickly, lost interest and returned to the stage.

Sebastian waited a moment and then made his way to the privy.

The bartender entered a moment later. He closed and locked the door behind him.

“Hello my friend.  I am Jalil.”

“Sebastian Arnyal.”  They exchanged signs indicating that they both belonged to the Sanctorum of the Arcane.

“What can I do for you?”

“Someone is selling items of immense power on the black market.  I need to put a stop to it.”

Jalil’s face darkened.  “I suspect the general. Several items were confiscated from the Chronicler’s Repository by the Sanctorum.”

“Have you any evidence?”

“If there is any hard evidence against the general, it will likely be found in his office at the Shining Patrol’s headquarters.”

Sebastian nodded.  

“In addition to confirming the identity of the seller, the Sanctorum would also like to know the name of the person purchasing the items.”

“I will see what I can do.” Sebastian turned to leave.  “Oh, one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“Please wait five minutes before leaving this privy.”  He cleared his throat.  “It doesn’t look good for two men to leave a privy together.”

“Oh.  Right.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 6b – Shining Patrol Headquarters*

The Shining Patrol headquarters was housed in a huge granite building.  Inside were a myriad of offices serving as embassies for every contributing faction to the Shining Patrol.  A transition area where recruits were processed into the Patrol or released from service took up the majority of space.  A much smaller section housed the permanent local command staff of the Patrol.

Kham made his way to the general’s office.  A guard was out front, half-asleep. 

“Wake up soldier!” snapped Kham.  “You’re guarding the general!”

The soldier blinked awake.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Yardan.”

“Listen, Yardan.  I don’t want to go in there to talk to your commanding officer about you screwing up.  AGAIN.  So I recommend we keep this little conversation I’m about to have with him between you and me.  What do you say?”

The soldier swallowed hard.  “Yes, sir.”

Kham pushed past him and entered the general’s quarters.

The general looked up from his desk.  Kham plunked himself down on a chair in front of the general’s desk and tapped the glittering emerald on his overcoat.  “Hi Muatma.  My name’s Kham val’Abebi and we have a problem.”

The general nearly stood up.  “How’d you get in here?”

“Not important.  What is important is that you’ve got a politician who wants to interrupt the flow of artifacts from Semar.  Our mutual friends sent me to stop that.” 

Muatma relaxed.  “So you’re with Falthar and the Society.”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.” He tossed Quablo’s list onto Muatma’s desk. “The problem is that Quablo val’Inares just tired to hire me to stop you.”

“Stop me?” Muatama’s face reddened as he red the note.  “That idiot has dug into my budget enough that I had to cancel the work on the moat in favor of continued funding for the watchtowers! That’s why I contacted Falthar…he’s been trading for the relics I found beneath Semar.” He tore the note up into little pieces.

“Oh I understand,” Kham said quietly.  “And I think Quablo knows exactly what he’s doing.  I think he wants a war.  We found this.”  He threw Dril’s manifest onto the desk.  “It’s in Ssethregoran.  We were ambushed by a group of well-armed ss’ressen.  They knew exactly what they were doing.”

The general nodded.  “That’s not the first caravan to go missing.”

“This was different.  Muatama…” Kham leaned forward.  “The ss’ressen ambush used a blast powder trap. Where did they get it from?”

The general hesitated.  “I sold some blastpowder to the mercenary company called The Serpent’s Claw.  I never thought I would have to resort to such means just to perform my duties.”

Kham was quiet for a moment.  He reached into his pouch and pulled out one of the tabards.  “We found this in the ss’ressen camp.” He tossed the tabard on the desk. 

Muatama stared at the tabard, stunned. “Althares’ ass!” he shouted.  “I’ve killed my own men!”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.  You’re doing what you have to do.”

Mautama pulled a bottle and two glasses out of a drawer.  “I need a drink.”  He poured both glasses and then gulped his down in one shot. 

Kham took the drink and did the same. After a moment, he finally spoke. 

“We’ve got to throw this Quablo guy off the trail.  And right now, I have to look like I’m against you.  So I’m going to have to get arrested. Nothing too drastic, but enough to make it look like I muscled my way in here and pissed you off.”

“After your arrest, I’ll put Yardan as your guard.  He always falls asleep anyway.” Muatama poured himself another drink.  “As for the distraction...” He reached for the pistol at his belt and pointed it at the ceiling.  

“No, wait—“

The ensuing blast knocked chips of plaster from the ceiling.  Yardan came skidding into the room, weapon out.

“Yardan!  This man just tried to attack me! Take him to the garrison.” 

Yardan looked at Kham, who had nothing but a drink in his hands.  He looked as surprised as Yardan. 

“But sir, an attack on you is grounds for execution…”

“Damn it, Yardan, do as I tell you!”

Yardan stiffened and saluted.  “Yes sir!”  

Kham offered his wrists up and Yardan slapped Altherian-made handcuffs on them.  Then he led Kham out.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 7 – I’m Not as Think as You Drunk I Am!*

Calactyte was sipping his drink at the bar when four Shining Patrolmen stumbled into the Shining Shield Inn.  

“Hey!” shouted one of them, pointing at Cal.  “Looks, it’s a scalebag!  Hey, scalebag!  I need a new pair of shoes!  Why don’t you come over here and we’ll cut a couple of pounds off of you!”

“Ignore them,” said Bijoux, who sat next to him. Calactyte stayed still. 

“I’m talking to you, snake boy!  Turn around when I’m talking to you!”

Calactyte didn’t turn around.

One of the patrolmen put one hand on Calactyte’s massive shoulder.

The lizard spun around and hissed, towering over the patrolman.

Just then, every other patron that wasn’t one of Calactyte’s companions threw off their cloaks and drew their blades.

“You are under arrest for attacking a member of the Shining Patrol,” said the provocateur.  Hands shoved Calactyte’s snout into the bar and handcuffs were placed on his wrists.  “That’ll teach lizards to walk around pretending they’re decent people.”

“Don’t resist, Cal,” whispered Bijoux.  “It will only make things worse.”

A moment after twenty Shining Patrolmen led out Calactyte, Sebastian entered.  With their sudden departure, the Shining Shield Inn was complete deserted.

“What did I just miss?” he asked in disbelief.

Beldin looked sourly into his drink.  “Looks like Altherians aren’t as sophisticated as they like to think they are.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 8 – The Decision*

Calactyte was led to a prison cell.  To his surprise, Kham was waiting for him in the cell.

“Stay alert, Yardan,” muttered the first patrolmen who had provoked Calactyte.  “We’ll keep both of these traitors here until the general is ready to question them.”

Calactyte’s axe, Kham’s scimitar Talon, and his pistols were all neatly lined up on the far wall, out of reach from the prison cell.  The other guardsmen marched out after shooting dirty looks and muttering curses.  That just left Yardan.

“What are you doing here?” asked Cal.

“Long story.” Kham lounged on the cell’s one pallet as if it were a cushioned sofa. 

Calactyte slumped to the ground.  “They don’t like me.”

“True,” said Kham.  “But then, you’re pretty scary looking.”

The lizard bobbed his head.  “Do you still have Fleshripper?”

“Nah, got rid of that thing awhile ago.” Kham’s eyes were on Yardan the whole time as they talked. “I heard you almost froze to death in Enpebyn.”

“Yes.  Sebastian saved me.”

Yardan’s lids lowered a bit as he leaned against the wall, facing them. 

“We visited your tribe.  They were concerned about you. My cousin, Pallas…he was doing some crazy things out there in Milandir.”

Calactyte nodded.  “I know that not all humans are like that.”

Kham looked down at the floor.  “Tell that to Pallas. This is a weird thing to say but I’m pretty sure the general had you arrested for your own safety.”

Hours went by. Yardan’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed. 

Calactyte shrugged.  “I’m worried for Sebastian. I owe him my life.”  He cocked his head, remembering something. “Have you seen Emric?”

“Which one?”

Calactyte blinked.  “The Chosen One of Yig.”

“Oh, right. I don’t know how to put this to you…” he struggled to come up with the right words.  “But Emric died fighting an incarnation of the Unspeakable One, The King in Yellow.  Yig used him as an avatar of sorts. He was buried under an avalanche.”

Calactyte was very still.  “So his death was not in vain.”

“No,” said Kham.  “Bravest little lizard I’ve ever met.”

“Then he was twice blessed,” said Cal.  “He was chosen by Yig to be her champion and he died fighting for a just cause.”

Kham smiled.  “When you put it that way…yeah, I guess he was.”

More time passed. Early morning sunlight streamed through the small windows.  Yardan had started snoring. 

“Okay, that’s our cue.”  Kham looked into his haversack. “Skiz?  Wake up.”

The talking rat’s head popped out of Kham’s extradimensional pack.  Yardan hadn’t thought to search Kham beyond his weapons. “Yeah boss?”

“I need you to get the keys off of that idiot’s belt over there.”  He pointed at Yardan.  The keys dangled tantalizingly from his belt.

“Sure, no problem boss.”  Skiz hopped out and landed on the ground.  Then he caught a glimpse of Cal. “WHOA!”

Calactyte sniffed at the rat.  

“Are you sure you want to let this thing out?” asked Skiz in a panic. “It’ll tear you apart!”

“It’s okay Skiz.  He’s a friend.”

“What?” Skiz sniffed back at Cal.  “This big thing is friendly?  It looks like it’d eat you as soon as look at you!”

“Don’t worry about him,” said Kham.  “Just concentrate on the keys.”

Cal and Skiz didn’t move.  They just stared at each other.

“Okay, boss. I’ll go get the keys, but I’d like it to be noted that I am officially freaked out.”

“Hey,” said Calactyte.  “This isn’t easy for me either!”

In no time, Skiz scampered up Yardan’s leg, grabbed the keys, and dragged them back over to Kham. 

“Good job, Skiz.”  Kham reached around and unlocked the cell.  

“Thanks little buddy,” said Calactyte with a wide-toothed grin.  

Skiz squeaked and dove into Kham’s pouch.  

The big lizard froze.  “Wait.”  He sniffed the air.  

Kham opened the cell door. “What?” 

Something obscured the window, causing the sunlight to dim.  

“Black powder.  Burning.”

Kham heard a distinct sizzling sound. 

“Back in the cell!” Calactyte grabbed the cell door with both hands and yanked it closed just as an explosion rocked the building.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 9a – This Might Sting a Bit!*

The sun had just risen and the companions had gathered for an early morning meal at the Shining Shield Inn. The food was, as always, delicious. The Tower of Althares’ Light still sent out tendrils of illumination in the early morning fog.  The city was just beginning to awaken.  Several merchants began moving wagons about the city.  

“Well, the place is a little livelier today,” said Beldin.

There were more patrons, presumably not Shining Patrolmen in disguise. 

“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.  

“What?” asked Sebastian. 

“A merchant just parked his wagon at the base of one of the warning towers, near the stables.”

“He’s probably bringing a resupply of blast powder,” said Vlad.

Ilmarė stood up suddenly as the merchant lit a tindertwig, tossed into the wagon, and ran in the other direction. 

“Down!”

A huge ball of fire engulfed the tower and sent a destructive shockwave in all directions.  A patrolman that was passing by disintegrated into a crimson mist.  

Beldin kicked the table up in front of them.  Sebastian and Ilmarė cowered behind it.  Bijoux and Vlad leaped behind the bar.

The wave slammed into the wall and glass steel windows.  They held, but several pieces of wall collapsed, and the windows ballooned inward, barely freeing themselves from their lower mountings. 

Sebastian got to his feet.  “Everyone all right?”

The window was a crimson and gray chunk-covered ghost of its former self.  The patrolman’s grisly remains dripped onto the sill and into the inn as the warning bells of Semar rang in earnest. Many patrons were unconscious, covered in rubble. 

Everywhere, the citizens of Semar began to run and scream in panic.  Seemingly from out of nowhere, an invading force of serpentine warriors descended upon the city.  

Flying Ssethregoran archers attacked at random.  Members of the Shining Patrol fought for their lives as the outer wall of the city was overrun with hordes of enemy soldiers.

“Grab who you can!” shouted Vlad.  “We’ve got to get them out of here!”

“I think we’ve got a bigger problem.”  Bledin stared up through the window.

“By Osalian’s mercy,” whispered Ilmarė.

The tower was slowly collapsing toward them.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 9b – This Might Sting a Bit!*

Outside, chaos reigned.  To the right, a man was struck through the top of his head with an arrow, an arrow that turned into a snake and slithered out of his gaping, gurgling mouth as he fell to the ground dead.  

“Get out of the path of the tower!” shouted Beldin.  The tower’s shadow loomed over them.  If they didn’t get out of its shadow soon, it would crush everyone between the inn and the base of the tower. “We don’t have much time!”

Calactyte and Kham were running towards them, freed from the prison that had once been at the base of the tower. 

To the left, several petite women ran from a residence, each cradling an infant.  Reptilian soldiers surrounded one of them. She tried valiantly to fight them off, but her efforts were cut short as one of the ss’ressen spat a sticky glob into her face.  

“No!” Bijoux shouted in dismay.  She pointed with one claw, the other covering her mouth in horror. 

With a wicked scowl, the ss’ressen snatched the infant from the woman’s grasp, ripped its head off, and returned the dripping head to her. 

“Illiir!” Beldin didn’t stop dragging people out of the path of the tower. 

With a flick of its claw, the ss’ressen disemboweled the helpless woman.  It grinned in Bijxoux’s direction as it licked its claw clean.

Vlad dropped a serving wench’s unconscious form and struggled to draw his blade.  “We can’t rescue everyone and fight those things at the same time!”

Calactyte whirled, axe out.  “Go.  I will take care of this.”

“Cal!” shouted Ilmarė. “You can’t, there’s too many!”

The venomous scale ss’ressen menaced the remaining women and children. 

“GO!” The ss’ressen whirled, axe out.  “They will follow me in frenzy.”  He roared, ear flaps rising up, muscle bugling with rage.  “MOMMA’S COMING!”

The lizards heard Calactyte’s challenge and responded in kind.  The human women fled as the ss’ressen were distracted.

Calactyte charged towards them, his clawed feet pounding the pavement beneath him in little clouds of dust.   Acid spewed forth, striking the big ss’ressen again and again, but Cal was undeterred.  The fury with which he descended upon the ss’ressen shocked even his bloodthirsty opponents.

Cal swung low, disemboweling one of the ss’ressen with a swipe of his axe.  His tail slapped another ss’ressen down before it could retaliate. 

But there were too many.  One leaped on his back.  Then another.  And another.  Clawing, biting, roaring.

Ilmarė knocked an arrow and took aim.  Then she stopped and lowered her bow.

“What are you doing?” Bijoux asked, incredulous.  Ilmarė was the only one not helping drag people out of the path of the tower.  “Help him!”

“Cal knows exactly what he’s doing,” said Ilmarė.  “He’s drawing them to him.”

More and more enemy ss’ressen poured through the gates.  A mass of scaled bodies concealed Calactyte’s chaotic melee.  Gouts of blood spiraled up and attackers were tossed aside, but soon the conflict became a boiling mass of reptiles beneath the shadow of the tower.

“No!” shouted Bijoux.  “Calactyte, NO!” Having dragged the last person to safety, she launched herself in the air.  “We have to help him!”

Sebastian rolled out of the path as rocks pelted the area.  He drew a wand of resilient sphere, the same wand he used to stop the explosives in Freeport. The tower was just about to collapse.  

“If I time this just right…” 

Suddenly the combat stopped.  The ss’ressen all looked downwards.  Cal had fallen.  

Spears raised up above them.  There was a shrill hiss, loud enough that even the humans knew to be a cry of horror.  The ss’ressen finally were released from their frenzy, staring up in shock at the tower…

Then it fell.  Tons of rock and rubble pounded the path between the tower’s base and the Shining Shield Inn.  Dust obscured all vision.  Calactyte had taken out dozens of enemies, but at a terrible cost.

“We have to leave!” shouted Kham.  “There’s more coming!”

“No!” screamed Bijoux, tears streaming down her face.  “We can dig him out!  We can dig him out!”  She launched herself into the haze of blood and dust.

“There’s no way…” Sebastian shook his head, wand still outstretched.  “Even if the wand worked…there’s so much rubble…”

Thousands of Ssethreograns poured through the breached wall.  Already, they were swarming along the streets and buildings of the city.  Overhead, flying reptiles attacked with ranged and breath weaponry.  

Behind them, cannon thundered ominously from the citadel. 

“To Klos Ka’Ra to regroup!” shouted a patrolman.  “We will hold the gate as long as we can!”

Beldin tugged on Sebastian’s arm.  “Let’s go!” 

But it was too late.  The thousands of scaled horrors outside the wall had sealed off their exit to Klos Ka’Ra.  They would have to fight their way through the Ssethregoran horde to the citadel.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 10a – Run for It!*

A grim-faced squad of Patrolmen met them just in front of an advancing group of Ssethregorans,

“Holden?” asked Vlad in disbelief.  “You’re stationed here?”

Holden Ash’ur, the Milandisian who had loyally fought at their side at the Gate of Tears, nodded grimly.  He took Vlad’s arm in greeting. 

“We will buy you as much time as we can.”  He handed Vlad his empty flintlock rifle.

“You’ve come a long way from being a clerk,” said Kham.

Holden shook his head. “I’m still a clerk.”  His silence indicated the hopelessness of the situation.  Even the clerks were fighting.

“But Holden, you can’t…” Vlad trailed off.  He could see a bitter determination and a quiet acceptance in Holden’s eyes. 

“We will not die easily,” Holden said grimly.  They would not survive the day and they knew it.

Holden drew his sword.  The other Shining Patrolmen did likewise. Although they were dirty and bloody, they formed up into a line with perfect precision.  

He looked them over with a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.  Then, with tears in his eyes, Holden faced the Ssethregoran horde.  “CHARGE!”

Holden led two hundred mounted Shining Patrolmen through the gates of Semar across the courtyard.  Behind them, the people of Semar watched from the battlements.

Ilmarė lifted her arms and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” asked Sebastian in confusion.

“Singing for the dead.”

Holden’s men fanned out to form one straight line of two hundred horsemen.  The Ssethregorans watched as the Patrolmen approached.

“_Bar naadel, I ardhon nîf_,” Home was behind them.  The world lay ahead.

The patrolmen increased their gallop as a Ssethregoran scout noticed their approach. 

“_A ennas nameneg padalond._” There were many paths to tread.

Holden’s Patrolmen were seventy-five yards away, thundering towards the Ssethregorans. 

“_Godref dae an I lanc ned daw._” Through shadow unto the edge of the night.

One of the larger Ssethregorans knocked an arrow. 

“_Abielenath na calad._” Until the stars were all alight.

Then five hundred Ssethregorans turned as one, serpent arrows already strung on their bows.

“_Hîth a dae, fân a gwath:_” Mist and shadow, cloud and shade:

Holdun shouted defiantly. Two hundred Patrolmen rode straight into a black wall of flying arrows.

“_Pân innas thinna, pân innas thinna._”  All would fade, all would fade.

As one, the horses and horsemen landed upon the Ssethreograns with a mighty clash as steel met tooth, claw, and flesh.  

“Now’s our chance!” Beldin raised Windcutter, spittle flying from his lips. “For Calactyte!”

Vlad strapped Holden’s empty rifle to his back and drew Grungronazharr. “For Holden!”

Kham drew Talon and Coomb’s dagger. “For Dril!”

Together, they charged towards the Citadel.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 10b – Run for It!*

Beldin and Vlad slammed into the first wave of barbed tail ss’ressen.  The lizards were hissing and spitting, fighting with terrible ferocity. 

Vlad smashed into one with his shield and stabbed upwards, but his estimation of lizard anatomy was off.  The ss’ressen batted aside Vlad’s shield with its club.

Vlad grunted and whirled, only to see Beldin hack the legs out from one of the advancing ss’ressen.  

Kham became a whirlwind of slices and cuts.  He ducked low and high, slashing with his saber and plunging his dagger into a nearby ss’ressen, who staggered backwards. 

The ss’ressen swung its tail at Vlad.  He blocked the blow with his shield and with a mighty hack, chopped the lizard’s tail clean off.  As it shrieked in agony, he plunged Grungronazharr through its throat.

Kham dove and rolled, sheathing his blades as he did so.  When the val came up, he was directly beneath a surprised ss’ressen.  It faced down two pistols…

Ilmarė fired arrow after arrow.  Two pierced the eye sockets of a ss’ressen, but it clawed in blind rage towards her. 

Beldin swung Windcutter in a wide arc before him, knocking two ss’ressen backwards.  Another ss’rsessen to his left exploded up into the air as Kham’s pistols discharged into its chest at point blank range.  It fell backwards into its companions in a bloody spray.

“There’s too many!” shouted Ilmarė.  She drew her thinblade and speared the blind ss’ressen through the heart.  Unlike Vlad, she knew lizard anatomy all too well. “We need to clear a path!”

Ss’ressen and rubble exploded upwards like tossed rag dolls as Sebastian’s fireball blasted through their ranks.  Shrieks and hisses echoed through the smoke and the charred stench of dead ss’ressen filled the air.

”Will that do?” asked Sebastian.  

They charged through the opening into the citadel beyond.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 11a – The Final Stand*

The day wore nerves and spirits thin.  Through the valiant sacrifices of many, the citadel still held…barely.  

Sebastian looked out over the walls from his position at one of the citadel’s tower windows.  Kham and Ilmarė watched with him.

The change to the once-proud city was profound.  Everywhere, buildings lay burning or in ruin.  The sewers of the city could not contain the mass carnage and had backed up.  As a result, the streets ran red with blood.  

Down below in the base of the citadel, Vlad and Beldin conferred with the general.

“A great host, you say?” asked Muatma.

“It’s as if all of Ssethregore was emptied,” said Vlad. 

“How many?”

“Ten thousand strong at least.”

“Ten-thousand!”

“It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy Semar.”

“Let them come.” Muatma walked outside. “I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms, to be ready for battle by nightfall. We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever set foot inside the citadel.”

“This is not a rabble of mindless orcs,” said Beldin. “These are Ssethregorans. Their scales are thick and their tails broad.”

“I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf,” chastised Muatma. “I know how to defend my own citadel. They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. The Ssethregoran hordes will pillage and burn. We’ve seen it before. Crops can be resown. Homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them.”

“They do not come to destroy Semar’s crops or villages. They come to destroy its people. Down to the last child!”

“What would you have me do? Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance!”

“Send out riders!” pleaded Vlad. “You must call for aid.”

“And who will come. Elorii? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead.”

“Milandir would answer.”

“Milandir? Where was Milandir when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Milandir—No, Vlad, we are alone.” 

Vlad handed Holden’s rifle to the general.  “This was Holden Ash’ur’s rifle.  A Milandisian. He gave it to me before he led the charge that enabled us to escape.”

Muatma turned it over in his hands.  “I knew him.  He was my clerk.”

Vlad nodded.  

“If we live through the day, he will be given the highest honors. But right now, all our hopes rest on the Patrolmen I sent to Klos Ka’Ra.” Muatma walked away from Vlad and barked orders at his men.  “Get the women and children into the center of the citadel.” 

“We need more time to lay provisions for a siege,” replied the solider.

“There is no time. War is upon us! Secure the gate!”

“Look!” shouted Sebastian.

Muatma and Vlad ran up to the window to see. 

An Altherian airship appeared on the horizon. 

“That’s The Damned,” said Kham.  

The airship was swarmed with flying reptiles.  Cannon fire echoed in tiny bursts of red and yellow around the ship.  Seconds later, smoke spiraled from several places.  

“They’re not going to make it!” wailed Vlad.

The ship crash-landed just inside the walls of the citadel, its crew and cargo smashed and scattered.  Muatma barked commands to see to the survivors.

“You’re taking this awfully well,” said Kham. 

Muatma’s expression was grim.  His eyes never left the window.  “Watch.”

Another supply ship, Cadic’s Grace, appeared from its invisibility sphere just above the opposite wall of the citadel.  It came to a safe, graceful landing in the courtyard. 

“That was a diversion!” exclaimed Beldin.

Muatma turned to a waiting soldier.  “Now!”

The soldier raised a flag, seen by other messengers who passed the order on to their commanders. Waves of patrolmen from Klos Ka’Ra appeared through teleportation portals secretly constructed on the outer city walls.  They hit the distracted Ssethregoran army in the flank.

The men were gaining ground. Vast numbers of ss’ressen were slain or fled. 

“We might just have a chance…” Muatma whispered to himself. But his hopeful expression turned to horror.

There was a slow, rhythmic WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH.

It was a deep, vibrant sound. A wave of fear and dread passed over them.

“DRAGON!” shouted Ilmarė.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 11b – The Final Stand*

Large green scales covered the massive muscles that propelled the huge creature of legend in an impossibly graceful flight.  Reveling in the panic caused by its mere presence, the scaled horror landed its massive bulk just in front of the citadel’s mighty metal gates.  The cobblestones beneath the creature burst into dust from the impact of its thunderous landing.  

“To the gates! Man the gates!” Muatma was mounted on his Altherian war steed. 

Muatma charged his way to the gate.  He led several hundred Shining Patrolmen down through the streets. Vlad and Beldin followed behind on their own steeds.  Ilmarė and Sebastian followed on foot.

With one massive wing, the dragon swept dozens of cannon and men from the right wall near the gate. A casual flick of its tail decimated an entire squad of Patrolmen foolish enough to attack it.

Then the creature began to draw in a massive breath of air.  Its sides expanded even larger than before.

“It’s going to breathe…” whispered Sebastian.

The beast exhaled a huge amount of flame and superheated air directly against the gates of the citadel. The flames streamed against the gate for a full minute before subsiding.  And though massive amounts of white-hot metal pooled at the base, the gates still held.  

Muatma rallied the line of riflemen as they waited in front of the gate.  Their courage wavered with each blast.  “Steady!  Steady!”

Not yet satisfied, the dragon began to inhale another massive breath, and again released its destructive power against the metal gates.  Again, white-hot metal pooled at the base of the gates, but they held…

“You are soldiers of Altheria!” shouted Muatma. “No matter what comes through that gate you will stand your ground!”

The dragon slammed its massive head directly into the gate’s red-hot center.  Under the dual onslaught of flame and force, the gates finally collapsed into molten rubble.

“Fire!” shouted Muatma.

Cannon and flintlock fired in volley from the citadel, but the shots just ricocheted off the beast’s thick hide.  

Muatma turned to address Vlad, Beldin, and Kham.  “Let this be the hour when we draw our swords together!”  He drew his sword.  

Giant ss’ressen entered through the gate, under an archway that no enemy had ever passed. 

Kham drew Talon.  Beldin drew Windcutter.  Vlad drew Grungronazharr. They were charging into certain death.

Ss’ressen swarmed through the opening and the pitched, hand-to-hand battle spilled into flames and blackened, smoldering buildings throughout the streets of Semar.

With a roar, Muatma led a counterattack, followed by several hundred Shining Patrolmen. 

Ilmarė never even lifted her blade. 

“You’re not going with them?” asked Sebastian.  “I would have followed, but my presence upsets the horses.”

“They don’t have a chance,” she whispered.  “There are too many.”

Just then a loud voice carried over the battlefield from high on a citadel wall.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 11c – The Final Stand*

“I know you for who and what you are!”

An old man, clad in only a white robe, was the source of the voice and he seemed to address the dragon.  Surrounding him were a score of dwarves bearing the distinctive beards of the Encali enclave.  

“Illiir will have now what was once denied!” shouted the old man.

The dwarves gestured in unison with him as he chanted a ritual.  The dragon’s head snapped around, eyeing the ritual uncertainty.  For the first time, the beast hesitated.

With a lightning fast motion, the dragon released another stream of unstoppable fire against the citadel.  The old man simply raised his hands and the fire parted harmlessly around him.  In the fire, something was outlined…a ghostly image made of the purest white light, with hands outstretched in supplication and angelic wings raised behind it.

“Valinor,” whispered Sebastian.

Seeing his breath weapon so easily thwarted, the dragon suddenly took flight, seeking to flee the battlefield.  It had reached the edge of the horizon just as the chant of the dwarves reached a fever pitch.  The chanting abruptly ended and as the dragon crested the nearby mountain range, a huge explosion engulfed the creature.

The shockwave traveled for miles, sundering stone, wood, and flesh. Even at a distance, Sebastian was knocked off his feet by the concussion.  The dragon was nowhere to be seen, the only evidence of its passing a corkscrew of smoke athat disappeared out of sight. 

Muatma circled Sebastian and Ilmarė on his horse.  “Reform the line!  Reform the line!”

With the loss of their greatest weapon, the Ssethregoran army seemed to despair.  The outnumbered Patrolmen began fighting with renewed fury.

Beldin, Vlad, and Kham arrived on foot, their mounts lost in the melee.  All of them were bloody. 

“It ends here,” grunted the dwarf.  He outlined a circle around him on the ground with Windcutter, the blade sparking as it scraped across brick.

“I’m not going to go down without a fight,” snarled Vlad.

Kham sheathed his blades and took out his pistols.  “For Altheria.”  

“Let them come!” Beldin swigged several potions.  His formed shuddered and grew even as the stone cracked beneath him, as if Beldin had become so heavy that the earth itself struggled to uphold him. “A giant of old will show these lizards what it means to face the Might of Illiir!”

Ilmarė knocked her bow.  “Great.  They have ss’ressen from the Agamis clutch.”

“Agamis what?” asked Vlad.  

“You’ll see.”


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Part 11d – The Final Stand*

Agamis ss’ressen plunged through the gate opening and Ilmarė’s volley was met with shrill cries. They were larger than the others, with rudimentary wings and a bright green color.  Some of them, females, had blue scales.  

Ilmarė notched another arrow as Shining Patrolmen fired past her with their rifles.

A wave of Agamis charged towards them, armed with large blades, whips, and clubs. Ilmarė pierced the ss’ressen with her arrows while Beldin smashed another with his axe.  Vlad caught one in the stomach. 

The Agamis reared back as one and spat sticky globs of sizzling acid.  Vlad’s shield caught one blast, Beldin’s caught another.  Kham easily dodged aside.

With a roar, Sebastian extended his fingers and blasted a ball of flames through the ss’ressen ranks. Then he ducked back behind Beldin.

Vlad beheaded an Agamis and black blood spewed forth. 

A large blue Agamis swung its halberd at Kham.  He ducked, and the monster struck a fellow ss’ressen, then another.  Ilmarė fired two arrows into the blue ss’ressen, causing it to reel back with a cry. 

Sebastian pointed at another ss’ressen and a magical bolt ripped through its skull. 

An Agamis swung its whip in circles above its head.  It swung at Ilmarė and she dodged it.  

Rubbery dun-colored tentacles sprung up out of the ground between the ss’ressen and the citadel, leaving a slim path for the ss’ressen to pass through. 

“Herd them towards the center!” shouted Sebastian.

Again, the whip-wielding ss’ressen swung and its whip snapped around Beldin’s shield.  Ilmarė fired arrows into the thing as the whip caught fast.  It collapsed. 

A huge Agamis tore its way through the tentacles and brought its greatclub down at Kham.  He jumped aside, easily dodging in and out of the tentacles like a clown fish in the protective arms of a sea anemone. 

One ss’ressen grabbed for Sebastian.  Vlad slashed the beast’s hand with Grungronazharr.  It twisted, raising its greatclub and began to swing again when Beldin struck it from the side. 

The ss’ressen roared and Kham fired both pistols up through its throat, skewering it through the brain. 

The Agamis stumbled, its hand fumbling towards its mouth where the bullets had penetrated. It stared upward, shocked, and with a long, pained moan, it collapsed to the ground. 

There was a moment of silence. All the ss’ressen were dead or fled.

“It’s over,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Serpentine Path: Conclusion*

Semar had been liberated, but at a terrible cost.  The city and its people would never be the same.  They had witnessed the brutality of the Ssethregoran horde firsthand.  

Somehow, Kham had produced a wineskin.  He took a long drink.  He had seen things he would never be able to tell anyone without several bottles of strong drink.  

Muatma addressed them all, holding one arm with the other, useless and bleeding.  “Some of you have lost trusted companions and love ones.  Some of you have witnessed great acts of bravery and terrible acts of cowardice.”

Kham thought of Quablo.  Was he dead?  Did it matter?

“We have all seen the best and worst of man and beast.”

He thought of Bijoux and Calactyte.  Calactyte had been buried under the rubble.  They were forced to abandon Bijoux in their flight to the citadel.  She could fly, but could she escape the flying Ssethregoran troops?  Would she even care to?

“We have been tested by battle and survived!”  

The crowd gave a cheer. Muatma left to survey the battlefield.

All around them was the carnage of war.  A child’s bloody rag doll lay silently next to a broken sword.  An empty baby carriage sat idly on its side next to a destroyed temple.  A tattered Shining Patrol banner wafted languidly in the breeze, keeping silent time with Ilmarė’s hauntingly beautiful lament for the dead.

“_In gwidh ristennin_,” Ilmarė sang of bonds cut.

Bodies of patrolmen and ss’ressen lay in long swaths where the battle was most fierce.  Families had already begun to search the bodies for loved ones.  In some places, they rejoiced.  In others, children fell to their knees, sobbing and praying over their loss.  

“_I fae narchannen,_” Ilmarė sang of the spirit broken.

One man scooped up his daughter, tears streaking his cheeks.  They had been separated and only just found each other. 

“_I sell Altheria ed ardhon gwannen._”  The children of Altheria had left the world.

“That lizard’s sacrifice saved my daughter.  If it wasn’t for him…if it wasn’t for you…I don’t know…” He broke down, weeping with joy and relief.

“_Nauris! Calactyte! Bijoux! Holden!_”

“He gave his life to save human children he didn’t even know,” Beldin said in awe.  “I am sure Yig will welcome him home.”

“_Ú-reniathach i amar galen._” No more would they wander the bright world.

“To the big stupid lizard!” Kham raised his wineskin and took another gulp.  “May he finally find the time to learn to read!” He handed the wineskin to Vlad. 

“_I reniad lín ne môr, nuithannen._” Their journeys had ended in darkness.

“To Cal!” Vlad took a swig.  “May the Black Talon tribe follow his noble example!”  He passed it to Beldin.

“To Cal!” Beldin drank deeply from it. “An axe was never wielded by a scalier dwarf at heart.” He offered it to Sebastian.

“To Cal!” Sebastian finished its contents.  “May resilient spheres work better than I hoped.”

The crowd took up the chant, cheering and weeping and laughing.  Exhausted survivors followed Kham’s example and spread the warmth and blissfulness of Larissa’s gift.

Kham took a moment to rest his weary body upon a broken piece of wall and wipe the grim and gore from his face.  

Ahead, through the still-smoking haze of the battleground, a figure came rushing towards him.  Kham got up on weary legs and drew one of his pistols, determined to send whatever it was to the pits of the nether realms.   But it was only a boy, a runner used to relay messages from the Patrol’s commanders.

The runner stopped in front of him, his breath coming in ragged gasps.  His dirt-covered face revealed a boy who had aged must in the past few days. 

“Sir.  The general wishes for you to come at once.  A matter of great urgency has arisen and your help is required.”  

Kham took a deep breath.  “I don’t suppose I can say no?”

The boy handed him a note.  “The general thought you might need some persuading.  He asked me to hand you this note.”

Kham read it.  A second later he dropped it to the ground and took off at a running, gathering his companions behind him.

On the ground, forgotten, the note read:

“THERE’S A SSETHREGORAN GATE BENEATH THE CITY.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 51: The Secret of Semar - Introduction*

This is a Year Two Living Arcanis adventure, “The Secret of Semar” by Henry Lopez, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure takes our heroes to a very different location all the way on the other side of Arcanis. It also has its share of revelations and deaths, and I can honestly say I was surprised how this adventure turned out.

Traveling to Nyambe provides a convenient means of bridging the quest for the King in Yellow with the events in Onara. I replaced the Agogwe with Tcho-Tchos, the ssanu with Ffashethh the samat, Semet with Emric the half-breed, and the final villain with…well, you’ll see.

More importantly, this story hour wraps up a major villain, a major ally, and the announcement of an important event in both the game and in real life.  In case you’re wondering, yes, this is how I told my friends.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Prologue*

Kham was led to the central fortress, a large squat stone tower with smaller side buildings flanking it before they melded into the massive walls that surrounded the city.  The boy moved unerringly through the winding streets towards the entrance.  The walls of the buildings appeared pocked marked and scorched.  Some very heavy fighting had taken place there.

Kham shouldered past a series of weary but agitated sentries with but a few words.  It was not long before he was being led downward, deeper into the bowels of the citadel. The air became progressively cooler and damp the further he penetrated the foundations of the fortress.

Ilmarė looked around, eyes wide. “This looks familiar.”

“Yes, the construction reminds me—“ began Beldin.

“Don’t say it,” interrupted Kham.  “I know what you’re going to say.  Just don’t say it.”

Finally, the runner stopped before an immense door made of dark wood and bound by steel.  A few moments later he banged on the door, it swung open easily.  A reddish glow suffused the chamber within.

They had arrived at the bottommost chamber of the citadel.  It was a huge room, over a hundred feet square.  It was featureless, with the exception of a central platform ten feet high.  Four sets of ramps led up to the top of the platform where an irregularly shaped stone ring stood.  The eerie red glow came from the empty central portion of the ring, bathing everything within the chamber with its light.

“A Ssethregoran gate,” Ilmarė said quietly, despite Kham’s protests.

“I told you not to say it,” muttered Kham.

Inside the chamber were four members of the Shining Patrol.  The stern-looking general Muatma Bunkakin was waiting for them.  

“Thanks for coming so quickly.  You are correct, this is a Ssethregoran Gate, similar in many ways to those created by the Ansharans to travel across many distances in the blink of an eye.”

The gate was similar in shape to the ones used throughout Onara to travel vast distance instantly. It lacked the usual white marble façade and its inscriptions of benediction and supplication to Anshar.  Instead, it was a crude gray stone oval with blasphemous inscriptions that wriggled as if alive.

“You knew about this gate?” asked Vlad.

Muatma nodded.  “This gate was discovered many years ago when my ancestors first drove out the Ssethregorans from Semar.  Fearing that the snakes could use it to mount a sneak attack on the city, we tried to destroy it.  Unfortunately, it has proven resilient to all attacks.”

Kham sighed. “Just like the one underneath the Temple of Althares in Freeport.”

“Luckily, the counterattack never came and the chamber was sealed and forgotten.”

“Until now,” Beldin finished for him.

“Until now.  During the final moments of the battle, a group of ss’ressen led by a huge serpent managed to make their way here and activate the gateway.  Before they could make their way through, three of my men sounded the alarm and engaged them.”

“And?” asked Vlad.

“And they were torn to pieces.  One of them managed to stay alive long enough to tell us what occurred.  Since then, I have assigned these men to guard the gateway, allowing no one in or out of the chamber.”

“So what do you want us to do?” asked Kham.  He was tiring of the circuitous talk.

“As you know, the Shining Patrol has taken a heavy toll.  I’m beginning to suspect that the entire attack was centered on entering this portal.  I cannot spare any members of the Patrol until Semar is secured and the last remnants of the snakes are wiped clean from the streets.”

Ilmarė sneered. “You want us to go through that thing?” 

“Yes.  Terminate the snakes that have gone through before they can spread their terror further, or worse yet, bring back reinforcements to retake Semar.”

“Do you even know where the gateway leads?” asked Sebastian.

“No.  I guess it shouldn’t be immediately lethal since the Ssethregorans went through without any obvious protection.”

Kham rubbed his forehead.  “Well that makes me feel better. You guys have that blastpowder I gave you, right?”

Vlad and Beldin nodded.  The elorii and dark-kin were not about to do him any favors.

“Good, count it one more time.  If it’s more than twenty vials, dump it or we’ll be paste on the other side.”

Ilmarė jutted her chin out at Kham.  “You know this is all your fault, don’t you?”

Kham looked nervously over at the general.  “Maybe now’s not the time to talk about this.”

Muatma looked from Kham to Ilmarė.  “What is she talking about?”

The elorii put her hands on her hips. “If Kham hadn’t awakened the snake-mummy that Edward was trying to sell in Freeport, we wouldn’t have this problem. In fact, it’s because of Ffasheth that we ended up—”

She didn’t get anything else out as Kham shoved Ilmarė through the portal.  After one last count of his blast powder, he followed after her.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 1 – The First Secret of Semar*

The usual tingling, slightly euphoric feeling of passing through one gate and exiting through another thousands of miles away was missing. In its place was pain like Kham had never experienced before.  Hundreds of red-hot needles pierced his body for what seemed like an eternity until, as suddenly as it began, it was over. He lay face down, nauseated, on a pitted rocky floor.

Ilmarė, pale and unconscious, lay on the floor beside him.  Beldin, Vlad, and Sebastian stumbled in a second later.  

Sebastian dropped to the ground and retched.  

“Are you okay?” asked Beldin.  The dwarf seemed hardly affected.

“I…don’t feel…right…” said Sebastian. 

The stench of burning flesh and the moaning of the wounded filled the air.  

“Ahh!” shouted Kham.  “Cut that out!”

A small group of dark-skinned children poked Kham with short spears.  They stared at the strange quartet in wild-eyed fear and were dressed solely in thick leather sandals.

All about them were the wounded, dead, and dying.  Huts burned and some bodies were impaled on long spears, stuck in the ground so that the bodies were held aloft. 

Sebastian struggled to rise.  With a roar, he arched up in agony, stretching his bat-like wings out to their full length of nearly ten feet. They were covered in scales. 

The children ran screaming.

“Althares!” Kham took a step back from Sebastian.  “Your wings are…bigger.”

The dark-kin’s breath came in long, ragged gasps.  He looked around. “I think it was…the gate…”

Vlad glanced over his shoulder at his back.  “Nope, just you.”

Beldin rushed past them.

“Where is he going?” asked Kham.

“Didn’t you hear them?” Beldin shouted back.  “Children are in trouble!”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 2 – Massacre*

Beldin followed the sounds of screaming and yelling coming from a pair of children and a young woman in front of a flame-wrapped hut.  As he approached, the woman rushed into the burning hut and did not reemerge. 

“I think she’s passed out inside!” shouted Beldin.  A bitter, acrid-smelling smoke spewed from the hut.

Beldin put his shield just below his eyes and charged through the flames. 

Seconds past.  The dwarf didn’t come back out.

Vlad looked at Kham.

“Don’t look at me.” Kham had Ilmarė in his arms.  “I’m worried they’ll eat her or something.”

“I’ve got it.” Vlad held Grungronazharr before him as he stepped into the burning hut. The flames parted.

Beldin carried the unconscious woman over his shoulder, but he was trying to find a path out.  He dragged a chest with his free hand. 

“She was trying to drag this chest out!” It was too awkward for Beldin to do both at the same time without getting burned. 

“This way!” Vlad waved his sword into the wall of flames and a path opened.  Beldin leaped through the flames with the woman in his arms.

Vlad grabbed the chest and dragged it out through the flames.

Sebastian’s wings were folded, but he still looked a hellish beast.  He tipped a healing potion to the woman’s lips.  Her eyes fluttered, then widened as she took in the dark-kin’s demonic form.

When she caught sight of Vlad dragging out the chest, she shouted something.  The woman opened the chest and took out its contents.  Within was a skull, still intact.  She kissed the skull and reverently replaced it in the chest. 

Beldin nodded appreciatively. “They worship their ancestors as dwarves do.”

“Let’s hope she’s willing to put in a good word for us,” said Kham.

Vlad was busy trying to put out the flames.  “With who?”

“With them.”

Kham jabbed a thumb in the direction of forty angry warriors armed with short spears.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 3a – The Hunters Return*

Before they could do much more than assess each other, a small man with a long wiry beard pushed his way through the crowd.  He was dark-skinned, like the others, and wore only a white linen skirt. He looked at Sebastian in surprise and spoke in a rapid-fire language they did not understand.

After a moment the old man took out a small rattle and intoned in a guttural language.

“He’s casting a spell.” Sebastian kept his arms crossed, although his wings flexed in agitation. 

Vlad’s hand went to his sword. 

“It’s fine,” said Sebastian.  “Everyone stay calm.”

“My name is Atum,” said the old man, “and hopefully you can understand me now.”

Sebastian nodded.  “I can.  I am called Sebastian Arnyal.  This is Vlad Martell, Beldin Soulforge, and Kham val’Abebi. Our unconscious friend is Ilmarė Galen.”

Atum’s brow knitted with concern. “Did you come from the stone ring?” One long, crooked finger pointed at an arching stone structure where they had appeared.

“Yes.  We are in pursuit of lizard people who came through here.”

Atum nodded.  “Ah yes.  There was a snake man who was a powerful sorcerer.  He caused the huts to erupt into flames with just a wave of his hand.”

“Ffashethh,” growled Kham.  “Damn it.”

“Do you know where they went?” asked Vlad.

“They went north, after they gutted poor Olabisi.”

“And where are we?” asked Beldin.

“We are the Hutili.  I saw the coming of the serpent men in a dream, and gathered the Hutili hunters as quickly as I could. In the dream, an orisha told me of the coming of an ancient evil and that a great danger would come to Nyambe-Tanda today at this place.”

“Orisha?” asked Sebastian.

Atum chuckled.  “An orisha does not know what orisha are?  They are powerful spirits that act as intermediaries with the Overpower.  There are many different kinds of Orishas. They can be helpful,” he looked at Beldin, “wicked,” he looked back at Sebastian, “or neither.”

“The Overpower?” Beldin stroked his beard.  “That’s your name for Illiir?”

“The Overpower is the creator of all.  He created us, the land, the sky…even you.” He pointed at Kham.

“We need a means of tracking the serpent men,” said Sebastian. “We will avenge your people.”

“We can only spare one of our number.” Atum called over his shoulder. “Mashudu!” 

A tall, lithely built young man came forward.  

“Mashudu will lead you to vengeance.  In the mean time, we must attend to the safety of our families.  And yours.  We will take care of your friend.”

Vlad looked dubiously at Atum.  “I don’t know about leaving her here with them.”

“Well I can’t carry her all day.” Kham gently lowered Ilmarė to the ground.  “She’s getting heavy.”

“Stay until morning,” said Atum. “The gift of tongues will soon vanish, and you will need a way to communicate with Mashudu.  I can help.”

Sebastian stepped back to confer with his companions.  “I don’t see that we really have a choice.”

“I’m going to have to change out of this armor.” Beldin was sweating profusely from his brush with the fire, but Nyambe-Tamba was infernally hot to begin with. 

“We’ll stay until morning.” Kham looked around.  “You got anything to drink around here?”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 3b – The Hunters Return*

Kham drank from a gourd. It wasn’t Savonan Red, but it would do.

Atum chanted in front of a small fire. Shadows danced across his features. He had been chanting all night, slowly crafting a strange doll-like object made of wood.  Between each chant he would insert a metal bit into it.

“I know of you.” Atum addressed Kham without looking up from his task.  “You are of the Abebi tribe.  The Orisha tell me that your people left Nyambe-Tanda after the Leaving Time.”

Kham blinked.  “Are you saying my ancestors came from this land?”

“Yes.  The orisha tell me the Abebi tribe tried to take the knowledge of the Kosan to rule over the rest of Nyambe-Tanda.  Of all the humans on Nyambe-Tanda, only your tribe bent nature and the gifts of the Overpower to your will, rather than living in harmony with the land.”

Kham took another swig.  “That sounds about right.”

“The Abebi tribe was warred upon by the other tribes that did not wish to see another reign of terror like that of the Kosan Empire.  They were driven away by all until a powerful orisha came and took them to his home.”

“Althares,” said Kham.

After another minute of chanting, Atum paused.  “Your ancestors were an evil people.”

“Not all of them.”  He thought of Pallas and Corinalous.  “But we haven’t been using the gifts of the…Overpower…as wisely as we should.”

Atum handed him the doll.  “This is a Nkisi n’kondi.  It is a representation of an ancestor orisha that will help you speak with the people of Nyambe.  By pushing in one of the metal bits, whoever holds the Nkisi will be able to speak with those of Nyambe-Tanda. Use it wisely.”

Kham took the doll and slowly rose to his feet.  “Thanks.”

“I hope you have learned your lessons during your time away, Child of Abebi.”

Kham flexed his arm.  There were still scars from when he had awakened Ffashethh by accidentally touching the samat’s mummified corpse.  “Me?  I never learn my lesson.”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 4a – The Evils of (Wo)Man*

Sebastian landed on the ground with a whoosh of his wings.  They were reptilian in appearance, scaly and black, with a thin membrane spanning each talon.  Dust whirled around him.

Vlad eyed Sebastian. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“You and me both.”  Sebastian folded his wings.  “I spotted a plume of smoke just a few hundred yards away from here.”

“The tracks do not lead in that direction,” said Mashudu. “They continue northward. But there is a Hutili village that way.  They help our tribe in mining precious metals and gems.”

Beldin grunted.  “Sounds like they need our help.”

Kham let out an exasperated sigh. “Do we have to save everybody around here?” 

The route to the smoke plume was rather treacherous, as it required negotiating the side of one of the mountains of the range.  The slop was covered in spiny brush and loose gravel of the same sharp volcanic stones found in the first village.

Sebastian launched himself upwards.  He spun to face them, wings churning the air.  “I’ll take a closer look.”

As they closed, the smell of burning wood became sharper.  Harsh words in another language were barked out.

The dark-kin landed behind them.  “It’s a small village, no more than a dozen huts all arranged near a mine entrance.  They’ve set the huts on fire. There are dead everywhere, but the survivors have been tied together by a series of ropes to a pole in the center.”

“Who’s holding them captive?” asked Vlad.

“A small group of women wielding wicked-looking swords.”

Kham stroked his chin.  “Women, you say?”

“Amazons,” said Mashudu.  “Warriors of the Nibomay Empire.  They claim the inhabitants and land of the Giko Taaba Mountains as their own. When a village does not comply with their rules, they are…pacified.”

“So this is punishment for not paying fealty,” said Sebastian.  “My own people have experienced this kind of pacification. Let’s end this nonsense.”  He took off into the air again.

Kham drew two pistols.  “He’s going to do that all the time now, isn’t he?”

Beldin gripped his axe.  “Pretty much. Do we have a plan?”

“Do we ever have a plan?”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 4b – The Evils of (Wo)Man*

Sebastian didn’t waste any time. Flames rained down on the Amazons before they had a chance to react.

Kham swigged a potion and promptly turned invisible. 

“This should be easy,” said Vlad.  “With their primitive weapons—“

An arrow the length of the Milandisian’s arm ricocheted off of his shield.  

One of the Amazons wielded a huge bow.  It was easily as large as the woman herself, and she was tall to begin with.  

Beldin charged forward.  “You were saying?”

Another Amazon raised a massive blade with one hand and swung it in a wide arc.  Beldin tumbled sideways, but strands of his beard floated to the ground.

Two pistol blasts caused Kham to reappear and gain the attention of the Amazons.  “Hey, ladies!” It was unclear if he was talking to his pistols or the women.

One of the Amazon women strode towards him.  Kham ducked as she sliced upwards, hacking the pole that held the captives hostage in half.  

“Thanks!” Kham hopped backwards as another stroke cut the folds of his jacket. 

Vlad took a step back as the Amazon pressed her advantage.  Her sword had a longer reach than his, and they both were wielding shields.  Beldin was equally matched.  

Sebastian engaged in a strafing battle with the Amazon shaman.  Brilliant energy of blue and red danced back and forth between them. 

Vlad and Beldin met back to back.  

“Tougher than they look.” Beldin blocked another blow from a razor sword.

Vlad took a clumsy swing at an Amazon’s blade, just to get it away from his face. “You noticed that too?”  

“Skiz!” Kham twisted sideways as another huge arrow whistled past him. “Reload!”

“You realize we’re gonna run out of bullets eventually, right boss?”

The Amazon dropped her bow and pounded towards him, razor sword held high.

“I’m not going to have this conversation right now! RELOAD!” 

Tiny rat paws pushed a pair of pistols out of Kham’s haversack.  

Kham grabbed the pistols and fell backwards, firing both of them into the Amazon’s face.  She fell backwards in a spray of smoke and blood.

“Switch?” asked Vlad.

“Switch,” decided Beldin.

They spun and faced their new opponents.  Vlad, taller than Beldin, went high.  The dwarf, with his shorter center of gravity, went low.  The two Amazons were unprepared for the attack.

A smoking crater was all that was left of the Amazon shaman.  Sebastian landed and folded his wings.  

“You are free!” he shouted with a smile.

The villagers screamed in terror at his approach. 

Sebastian’s smile turned to a frown.

“Get used to that,” said Kham.  “With those wings, I’m not sure we can take you anywhere.”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 5 – A Feast Unknown*

Marching in the sweltering heat for most of the day, they finally reached the end of the mountain range and moved into the grassland proper. At the end of the first day of tracking, Sebastian came across a scene illustrating the inherent dangers of Nyambe.  

The dark-kin landed with a flap of his mighty wings. “There’s a pair of reptilian bodies laying in the empty expanse of the savannah.”

Kham walked over to the corpses. 

“No, wait…” warned Mashudu.

“Ow!” Kham slapped at his neck.  “Something bit me!”

Kham fell over, face first.

The shrill whistle of a projectile flying at high speed caused Sebastian to slap his own neck.  

“What…?”  Sebastian staggered to the ground. 

“Tcho-tcho poison!” shouted Mashudu.  “Beware!”

Beldin picked a long, thin blowgun needle out of his bulbous nose.  “Try to poison a dwarf, will you?”  He drew his axe.  “I’ll teach you!”

Two short, bowl-cut, dark-skinned men hopped out of the grasses, wielding obsidian chip-studded terbutjes.  

Mashudu blocked a swipe of the first tcho-tcho with his spear, but the terbutje snapped it in half. 

“Don’t let them touch you!” shouted Mashudu.  “Even their clubs are poisoned!”

Beldin roared as the second tcho-tcho’s club bounced off of his shield.  “Let’s see you deal with dwarven steel!”  He hacked back at the tcho-tcho, but the small man hopped out of the way.

Vlad swung his blade in a wide arc, holding the tcho-tcho at bay.  With a wicked grin of filed teeth, the tcho-tcho slashed downwards with its terbutje.

“Missed!” snarled Vlad.  He looked down.  There was a slight gash at the tip of his boot.  

“Ah damn it,” muttered Vlad.  Then he too fell face down in the long grass.  The tcho-tcho disappeared into the foliage.

Beldin smashed the first tcho-tcho’s terbutje aside and hacked its arm off with one blow.  The tcho-tcho was still cursing in some foreign language when Beldin put it down.  

The dwarf turned to address Mashudu just as the other tcho-tcho reared up out of the grass. “Look out!”

Before Mashudu could react, the tcho-tcho fell over.  An arrow shaft protruded from the back of its skull.

Behind the corpse of the tcho-tcho stood a tall, handsome man with regal bearing in studded leather armor, wielding a large ivory bow.  

“Hello Beldin,” he said in Low Coryani.

“Do I know you?” asked the dwarf.

“It’s me.  Emric.”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 6 – The Enemy of My Enemy*

“So you’re trying to tell me that YOU’RE Emric?”

Emric nodded.

“We’re not talking about the human Emric.” Kham described Emric’s original stature with his hands. “We’re talking about the little squeaky Emric that I rescued from the Temple of Yig awhile back. About this high?”

“That’s me.”

“The same Emric who was turned into a giant avatar of Yig and fought the King in Yellow to a standstill?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you die in the collapse of the cavern?”

Emric tilted his head.  “It was a death of sorts, yes.  Yig gave me one last chance to be reborn again, not as a tool of Her will but as my own person.  I chose to combine the traits of both of my parents.”  There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Kham looked closer at Emric.  Emric’s irises were clear.  His pupils were shaped more like a slit than a dot.  “About that…Calactyte’s dead.”

Emric’s shoulders sagged.  “Somehow, I knew that.  I am sure that Mother died valiantly.”

“She…I mean he did.” Kham shook it off.  “This is too weird for me.”  He walked away into the grasses to confer with Mashudu.

“So Emric, what are you doing here?” asked Sebastian, still a little woozy after being poisoned.

Emric sat down cross-legged.  “Despite what you may believe, I am a loyal servant of the Ssethregoran Empire.  Ffashethh started the attack in collusion with a human conspirator.”

“Quablo?” suggested Vlad.

“I don’t know.  But I do know that I was considered the best hope to bring a stop to the fighting. Since I am a half-breed…” he looked at Sebastian with a grin, “I was hoping I could bring both sides together.”

“I find it’s not that simple.” Sebastian’s tail twitched in agitation.

“I didn’t think it would be.  That is why I have been sent here, to assist you to stop Ffashethh.  He belongs to a heretical group known as the Sskethvai.”

“We know all about it,” Beldin said gruffly.  “They worship the Unspeakable One.”

Emric nodded.  “Worship of the Unspeakable One has been proscribed within the Empire for centuries.  That God is dead and gone. The Sskethvai sect controlled Semar after their purge from the Empire.  There they enacted their obscene rites until the Altherians arrived and drove them out. Unfortunately, a handful of subjects, most notably the troglodytes, still follow the Unspeakable One’s edicts.”

“And that’s the mob Ffashethh led on the attack against Semar?” asked Vlad.

“I’m afraid so.” Emric sighed.  “Ffashethh used the attack as cover to reach the Ssethregoran gate.  He hopes to entreat this Unspeakable One to return to Onara and conquer all its people, Ssethreogran and human alike.”

“So you’re working with us?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

“My superiors do not want such a thing to happen any more than yours do.”  He looked over at Kham, who was standing by himself in the grasslands.  “Why is Father upset?”

“Kham’s the reason Ffashethh is alive today,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 7 – Prey*

Days had passed since their journey began.  Wildlife and flora unseen and undreamed of stalked the grasslands.  Beasts of normal and huge proportions made the crossing hazardous and nerve-wracking.  

Finally, they reached the edge of the Bida Rainforest.  A green wall of foliage heralded the beginning of the end of the trek. 

The going was even more arduous than the crossing of the grasslands, as if the very jungle conspired to slow passage.  Feet snagged on stumbled over every root, vine and limb. Insects of varying sizes harried like miniature crows pecking on rotting carriages.

Emric put a finger to his lips and then cupped one ear.

They heard the guttural sounds of someone speaking in Ssethren, the ancient language of the Ssethregoran Empire.  

Emric pointed.  The Ssethregorans were standing in a clearing.  The entirety of the clearing was made up of a large rocky mound, looking much like a huge burial cairn.

In the center was Ffashethh.  A huge Agamis clutch ss’ressen lowered him into a recently excavated opening by rope.  The rest of the Ssethregorans were arranged in a circle around the opening, more intent on what was happening below than their own surroundings.

An explosion ripped through the air, blasting through the remaining Ssethregorans.

Beldin looked up as a bat-winged shadow crossed where he stood. “I guess Sebastian wasn’t interested in waiting.”

Emric released four arrows in rapid succession.  The Agaims ss’ressen fell wordlessly into the pit.

“So much for the element of surprise.” Kham swigged a potion and jumped down into the pit.


----------



## GrolloStoutfoam

GREAT story hour!! I've spent the last few weeks reading from the beginning.  You've quite a group and Arcanis is an incredible setting.  I wish I had been exposed earlier.

Thanks again for posting.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 8a – Ancient Secrets*

_GrolloStoutFoam - Thank you for reading! We've got many chapters to go before this all wraps up, and the losses will keep rising..._

The potion allowed Kham to climb down the sheer forty-foot drop that ended in a large cavern.  The mustiness of ages wafted upward and the stench of things that even death had forgotten offended him in ways even the recent battle of Semar did not.

Sebastian flew in above Kham.  Emric slid down the rope behind him.

The natural cavern was actually a large chamber, hewn from the living rock of the land.  The walls were decorated with serpent motif bas-relief artwork and decorations. Further in the back, pillars designed to appear like large snakes glistened in the meager light afforded by the opening above.

A hulking Agamis ss’ressen pounded forward to meet them.  Vlad and Beldin arrived a few seconds later.

Off to the south were a dozen organic-looking bags, lifted off the floor and interconnected to each other by mucous covered tubes that resembled intestines more than anything else.  Arranged upon a low dais, surrounding a seatless throne crafted for the coils of a serpent, were a dozen of the same glyph-etched stone urns.

Behind Ffasheth was a stone relief of a bloated, jellyfish-like monstrosity that encompassed the entire cavern.  Kham recognized it.

“Spawn of the Unspeakable One,” whispered Kham. 

The two columns shuddered to life, their stone forms grinding across the floor as they advanced.  

Beldin and Vlad charged towards the Agamis ss’ressen, even as the two animated statues slithered their way from either side.  

“Sebastian!” Kham broke into a run. “You take out the weird-looking bags, I’ll keep snake boy busy!”

Ffashethh turned.  “Ssso you pursssue me, even here?  I will ssshow you the error of your waysss.”

Then everything went black.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 8b – Ancient Secrets*

Kham’s pupils adjusted to the dark.  It wasn’t the darkness he was accustomed to.  The darkness was literally a vacuum of light, so dark that staring with his eyes open almost hurt.  If he couldn’t see, Kham would have closed his eyes. 

But he COULD see.  His mind tore through the possibilities as his body continued to move.  Ffashethh was already pressing the advantage.  Emric seemed completely unhindered. Vlad held his own, taking slow, methodical swings to defend himself. Beldin flailed, swinging blindly in front of him.  From the looks of how the Agamis was reacting, it wasn’t much better off. 

The animated statues, however, were not so encumbered.

It was Daemonscar! The breastplate Kham picked up in Canceri gave Kham the ability to see in magical darkness, like a dark-kin…

Kham looked up. Sebastian, unhindered by the magical darkness, flapped like a giant bat, unleashing a blast of flames that somehow didn’t manage to illuminate anything despite the conflagration.  It was all heat, no light.  The fireball looked like a smudge with gradations of black and white.

The blast struck the bags, tearing them open.  A torrent of stagnant liquid rushed out.  A naked, dark-skinned human spilled to a halt in front of Kham.  

Kahm hesitated.  The smell of ammonia nearly overwhelmed him.  But it wasn’t the stench that stopped him.

He stared down in horror.  “Althares!” 

The corpse’s eyes were wide open.  Even in the pitch darkness, Kham could make the man’s features out as a val’Abebi.  But the pupils were serpent slits.

Ffashethh pointed. Tree roots exploded out of the ground, encircling Vlad, Beldin, and the Agamis’ legs even as the two stone constructs slithered closer.  It was apparent Ffashethh had no use for his minions. 

“Kham, the snakes!” Sebastian pointed and shouted another word of power, but Kham was stunned by what he had found.  Was Emric truly the first of his kind?  Did Yig really give him a choice? Or was he a pawn of Ffashethh all along, some kind of failed experiment that had turned against him?  Or would he yet betray them?

One of the serpents exploded from a blast of magical force.

“That’sss enough out of you!” Ffashethh pointed at Sebastian and suddenly he went silent.

Emric fired two arrows into the other snake, but they bounced off its stony carapace.  

The samat returned to his chant.  Around him, the glyph-etched stone urns pulsed in a blasphemous rhythm.

Kham took careful aim with both of his pistols.   “Ladies, don’t fail me now!” 

The weapons jerked in his hands.  The familiar sulfurous smell reached his nostrils, although the smoke was invisible in the darkness.  

Ffashethh’s head snapped to face him as a crack appeared in one of the urns.   He uncoiled from the throne, lurching to shelter the urn from further harm, but it was too late.  

The urn was brilliantly illuminated from a thousand cracks where Kham’s shots struck home. The ensuing magical blast penetrated even the magical darkness. 

“The urns!” shouted Kham.  “Break the urns!”

Emric fired another volley of arrows.  One of them skewered an urn and it cracked as it rolled, spinning rays of light in the darkness.  Then it exploded.

Ffashethh roared with rage.  The samat reached behind his back and drew two wicked-looking sickles. The handles were sculpted in snake bodies swallowing curved blades.  

“That wasss my sssissster!  I will make you pay for that.”  

Kham fell backwards as the samat loomed over him.  He drew another pair of pistols from his haversack. It was so fast—

His fingers went number as one pistol and then the other was batted aside.  Ffashethh was playing with him.

The samat’s huge snake head darted forward to lick his chin with a forked tongue. “I’m going to make you sssuffer.”

“Not if he has anything to say about it.” Kham pointed over Ffashethh’s shoulder.  

Sebastian came in a silent dive-bomb, but the samat forced him to veer off with a shrug of its thick tail. 

Kham used the distraction to draw Talon and Coomb’s dagger, but the samat was watching him the whole time.  The two sickles pierced his shoulders, pinning him to the stone.  He screamed.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” sneered Ffashethh.  

The samat let out a horrible hiss, spraying poisonous spittle over Kham’s face.  The wicked fangs slowly unhinged, the jaw unlocking as it grew larger. 

Suddenly the mouth snapped back as an explosion engulfed Ffashethh’s torso.  The sickles were yanked out of Kham’s shoulders.  

Sebastian had picked up one of the urns on his first pass and dropped it on top of the samat.  They were using the samat’s own tools against him.

Emric rolled an urn towards Ffashethh.  The samat seemed torn between trying to defend himself and protect the urns.  The hesitation cost him as an arrow followed soon thereafter, smashing the top of the urn.  The explosion blew one of Ffashethh’s arms clean off. 

The samat flailed, his tail crashing through another urn and setting off another explosion.

“Skiz!  Reload!”

“But—“

“NOW!”

Two more pistols nudged their way out of his haversack.  It hurt, but Kham drew the two pistols and took careful aim.  Urn after urn exploded, consuming Ffashethh.  The darkness suddenly receded.

Sebastian landed near Kham, capable of speech once more.  “His spells have ended—he’s dead.” 

The Agamis was dead too.  The remaining snake statue was rubble. Although Beldin and Vlad were hurt, they were alive.  

Kham searched for Emric.  He was staring down at one of the corpses. 

“I don’t understand.”  The half-breed’s lip quivered.  “I thought I was unique…was it a lie?”

On closer inspection, there was a sac that had already been opened long before they arrived.  

Sebastian studied the empty sac.  “Kham did animate Ffashethh with his own flesh,” the dark-kin said with a frown.  “It stands to reason Ffashethh could have used Kham’s life force to create these ss’ressen/val’Abebi hybrids.”

Kham struggled to his feet.  “Look, it doesn’t matter if you’re really Emric or not.  You stood by us when it counted. I don’t care how you came to be…hell, I was originally planning to eat the serpent egg I picked up. Sometimes, things work out differently than you planned.”  

Kham clapped Emric on the shoulder and winced.  The sickle wounds hurt, but he would live. 

Emric’s brow was furrowed.  “Thanks, Father.  That means a lot coming from you.”

“And stop calling me Father.”

Vlad stared up at the far wall. “I don’t mean to interrupt the family reunion, but if Ffashethh is dead, why is that wall still glowing?”

Emric followed Vlad’s gaze. 

“Yig have mercy,” he whispered.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 8c – Ancient Secrets*

The massive fresco of one of the Unspeakable One’s spawn glowed a sickly green color and slowly detached itself from the wall with a horrible sucking sound.

“Run!” shouted Emric.

Vlad drew a glowing gladius, the blade made of pure energy.  “This weapon can take Carcosan beings down—“

Emric turned.  “You can’t fight this!  RUN!”

Kham was backpedaling.  “But Emric, you can’t stop it either…”

Emric shook his head.  “If it’s true, that I was manufactured by the Unspeakable One to betray you, then I won’t be able to fight this thing. And if I don’t have free will, I don’t want to live anyway.”  He drew a thin longsword.  “Sliver, don’t fail me now!”

Tentacles stretched and twisted towards Emric.  

“Come on!” shouted Emric.  He hacked at one of the tentacles.  “Is that the best you’ve got?”

There was a grin on Emric’s face, wild with the confirmation of his new-found independence, however brief.  Snapping like whips, the spawn’s tentacles pinned his arms to his body.  Another tentacle strained for his face…

Kham didn’t look back.  He hit the wall running and climbed straight up it.  Sebastian flew up the length of the rope and tied it around his waist.   “Hang on!”

Beldin tied a length of rope around his wrist as Sebastian lifted into the air.  

Vlad hacked his way out of a forest of tendrils.  He was quickly overmatched and he knew it.

“If that thing gets out this whole continent is doomed!” shouted Sebastian.  

Beldin slowly lifted up. Kham jumped through the air and snatched the rope.  

“We can’t let it get out of here,” said Kham desperately.  Then he remembered the extra blastpowder. “Vlad, Beldin, throw the blast powder at it.  Sebastian, when I say go, you hit it with everything you’ve got!”

Sebastian struggled.  The power of his new wings was impressive, but it was all he could do to keep them aloft.  

The mass that was once Emric sunk into the gelatinous form of the spawn.  Kham concentrated, and suddenly he and Vlad switched places—Vlad was wrapped around the rope and Kham was in the forest of tentacles. 

Thanks to Kham’s ring, the spawn couldn’t get a handle on him.  He threw the powder horn and the feeling tentacles caught it, slurping it upwards into the body cavity. 

Kham twisted and tumbled out of its path. He snatched the tail end of the rope. “Throw it!”

Beldin reached into his pouch and tossed a powder horn into the scintillating cap of the jelly-like spawn. Vlad did the same.  The powder horns stuck to its flesh before slowly sinking beneath the surface.

Sebastian elevated them up so that they were level with the opening into the cavern. 

Kham whistled the last powder horn over his head by its strap.  Once, twice. The tentacles lunged for him.  

On the third swing he let the powder horn fly.  “NOW!”

Sebastian pointed both palms downwards into the hole, “INCENDIARES GLOBUS!” 

A blast of flames whooshed past Kham’s nose into the hole.  

One of the powder horns, attached to the surface of the spawn, exploded. The abomination jerked this way and that, a balloon caught in a typhoon.  Its tentacles flailed, smashing a massive stalactite.  The cavern shuddered.

“Fly faster!” Kham twined his legs around the rope. 

Sebastian was drenched in sweat as he concentrated wholly on lifting three men up on a single rope.  Tentacles probed out of the hole. 

Then the explosion reached the other two powder horns stuck in the thing’s hide.  Bright red mushrooms of energy exploded in the flesh of the spawn, bursting outwards a second later and spewing viscous fluid in great gouts everywhere.  The entire cavern blasted upwards as the gas that propelled the beast caught fire.

Suddenly Sebastian’s load got lighter.  Beldin, Vlad, and Kham sailed up past him as the rope went slack.  The superheated air of the explosion tossed them like feathers.  

Sebastian flapped his wings furiously.  He caught sight of Beldin at the apex of the blast.  Then all three hurdled back to earth as gravity took over.  

The cavern was slowly imploding, rocks dropping away from where the spawn continued to flail in a spray of fire, rock, and unnatural fluid.  It seemed as if would envelope the entire landscape.

Kham snapped downwards, his leg trapped in the rope.  Beldin and Vlad weren’t so lucky.  The force of gravity ripped the rope from their hands.

Kham hung upside down, arms outstretched.  He was holding on to both of them by their hands, the world a churning mass below them.

“Hold on, Vlad! Hang on to me!”

“Don't let go!” shouted Beldin. 

Kham strained.  His grip was slipping.

“Hold on, Beldin! Hang on!”

Though they were further away from the lip of the rapidly expanding crater, they were slowly falling back into it.  Sebastian’s wings were finally giving out.

“Come on! Get up!” Kham tried to tighten his grip but his shoulders were already numb from Ffasheth’s attack. “Pull up! Come on!” 

“Kham!” shouted Vlad. 

“I can’t…” There were tears in Kham’s eyes.  “Guys…I can’t…I can’t hold on to both of you.”


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Part 8d – Ancient Secrets*

Beldin closed his eyes.  “Let me go.”

“What?” shouted Vlad.  “No!”

“It’s okay,” the dwarf said calmly. “Find my body later.”

“No, Beldin, wait!” But the dwarf had already made his decision. 

Beldin released Kham’s hand. He was distinguishable only by his flapping beard as he plummeted to certain death on the unstable ground below.

Kham caught a glimpse of Mashudu running towards Beldin’s body.  He picked the corpse up and ran, the collapsing rock nipping at his heels.

Vlad looked down.  “We’re still falling!” The earth had given way to bright red and yellow streaks, like bloody veins in the earth. Lava. 

The spawn slowly sank beneath the crush of rock and earth, sputtering and hissing as it was forced downwards into the lava pool, until even the glittering green cap was no longer visible.

“I can’t fly anymore,” Sebastian’s body shuddered with every beat of his wings.  The exertion and the Nyambe heat had taken its toll.  They continued in a barely controlled descent. 

“We’ll never survive the lava,” Kham said morosely. He could do nothing but hold on to Vlad.

“Wait!”  Sebastian remembered Calactyte.  He pulled a wand from his robes. “Let go of the rope.”

“What?” Kham looked up at him.  “Are you out of your mind?”

“Trust me!  Let go of the rope!”

Kham shrugged and released his leg from the rope.  It twirled, unraveling him and suddenly they were free falling.  Vlad and Kham tumbled through the air. 

Sebastian aimed the wand.  This time, he swore, he wouldn’t miss.

The wand of resilience sparked and a bubble of magical force enveloped them as they fell. It landed in the lava flow like a bit of foam on a calm surf.  Vlad held Grungronazharr in both hands; though the force bubble would protect them, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Finally relieved of his burden, Sebastian was able to flap enough to keep himself afloat.  He stretched, taking in great a lungful of air.  Then his smile faded.

Down below, something stirred beneath the lava.  Tentacles curled upwards, melting in the awesome heat but undeterred.  

“No!” Sebastian went into a nosedive.  “I will not let you take any more lives!”

Vlad and Kham looked up, helpless to do anything but watch as the spawn threatened to drag them down into the lava with it.

Sebastian lifted a palm.  A glowing sphere of pale blue light appeared in it. “Frigus sphaera!”

Sebastian hurled the blue sphere straight at the crown of the spawn.  His aim was true.

Still dripping with lava, the sphere passed through its flesh and burrowed to the center of its being.  Cracks of ice appeared throughout its form.  For a split-second the spawn shuddered as heat and cold struggled for dominance.

Then it exploded in a million pieces of frozen chunks, pelting Sebastian in the air, bouncing off the sphere of force, and even threatening Mashudu who stood protectively over Beldin’s smashed corpse.


----------



## talien

*Secret of Semar: Conclusion*

“Your friend is remarkable,” said Atum.  It had taken all of their healing potions to restore the crushed and battered body of Beldin to life before dawn. “The orisha within him is very strong.  He will be reborn at daylight, as you said he would.”

Around the Hutili’s fire, Sebastian also slept.  The struggle to keep them alive and his newfound flight had taken much out of him. 

“That’s great, Atum.  Any news on Ilmarė?” asked Kham.

“I will check on her.”  Atum tottered off. 

Kham and Vlad passed a gourd filled with a Nyambean concoction back and forth in front of the fire.  

“Do you think he really was Emric?”

Kham sighed and took a swig.  “I think that he thought he was.  Who’s to say that he didn’t wake up to see Ffashethh standing over him and thought it was Yig?” He handed the gourd to Vlad.

Vlad nodded and slurped from the gourd.  “Still, it didn’t work the way Ffashethh wanted it.  Emric had free will.” He handed it back to Kham.

Kham gulped some more down. “The curse of being human.”  He winked at Vlad.

“I just realized something.” Vlad hesitated in returning the gourd to Kham. “If it’s true that Ffashethh used your flesh to make his own val/ss’ressen half-breeds, that made Emric your son.”

Kham snatched the gourd back from Vlad.  He didn’t say anything else. He just finished off the contents of the gourd.

Atum returned, ashen-faced.  “I thought you should see these.  We received it as a gift from the village you saved from the Amazons.”

He handed Vlad a small book and a battered, wooden box.  The book had a black cover on which “diario” was spelled out in gold leaf.  The box contained six bullets for an Altherian rifle.  

“Four white men, like you, passed through here,” said Atum, anticipating Vlad’s question.  “They headed to Isle of Chaugnar Faugn.”

Vlad punched an open palm with his fist.  “Livius Carbo!”

“There’s more.  Another ship came through; I believe they were in pursuit of this Livius you speak of.  Only they were captured by cannibals, the tcho-tcho.  They plan to sacrifice them to their orisha, Chaugnar Faugn, tomorrow.”

“Oooooh no.” Kham waved off Atum, swaying drunkenly.  “We’re not staying here another day.” He pointed at Atum with the empty gourd.  “As soon as Ilmarė is back on her feet we’re going through that portal and getting the hell out of here.”

“I do not think your new mother should be traveling through such portals,” said Atum matter-of-factly. “It may do irreparable harm to her baby. I suspect the strain is what weakened her the first time.”

“New mother?” Vlad blinked.  “What are you talking about?”

Atum was taken aback.  “Didn’t you know?  Ilmarė is pregnant.”

Kham dropped the gourd.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 51: The Isle of Chaugnar Faugn - Introduction*

This scenario is adapted from a Necromancer Games adventure, “The Isle of Bonjo Tombo” from the Dead Man’s Chest supplement, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

George (Sebastian) was pretty sick during this session.  Although he held up well for the first two adventures, by the third he was really suffering.  And, as it turned out, we all got sick afterwards.  Everyone, that is, except Matt who is impervious to all harm and my wife, who was juiced with pregnancy hormones and didn’t play most of the time anyway.

I had a much longer setup that involved the exploration of the island, but combat started to become tedious.  Also, Sebastian’s newfound flight meant he was far more capable of avoiding overland hazards, as you’ll soon see. So, gaming by the seat of my pants as usual, I threw out a bunch of the stuff I had planned and went with the more cinematic solution.  I also gutted the original cavern and instead moved to the next adventure, which takes place in Chaugnar Faugn’s cave. 

All in all, it worked out well, but it was a lot briefer than I would have liked.  I’m still itching to use all the wonderful things that lurked in the more expanded version of the cave.  Oh well…there’ll always be other islands!


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Prologue*



> _Day 1 – Leave Coryan on the “Rapier” bound for Nyambe.  Dirty, cramped and noisy (seaworthy I think) it carries Anzalone, Carbo, Flavius and me in addition to its cargo of wine._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



The Hutili supplied them with a small boat, which Vlad and Beldin dutifully rowed.  Kham sat in the center, brooding, while Sebastian flew overhead.

The icy peaks of the two mountains that Atum translated as “The Demon’s Horns” dominated the skyline. The dark peak of a long extinct volcano cone covered the larger southern isle, easily the biggest in the entire archipelago.  The isle was swathed in thick green vegetation and dank mists. 

“The Hutili say that the mists can eat through a breastplate in a fortnight,” said Beldin.

Kham rolled his eyes.  “I’m sure they see a lot of breastplates, too.”

As they rowed closer the bay on the south shore of the Isle of Chaugnar Faugn, their senses were assailed with the stench of rotting vegetation, bittersweet flowers, and slow decay.

“So what are we going to tell Quintus?” asked Vlad.

Kham looked over his shoulder.  Vlad was rowing behind him.  “Tell him what?”

“You don’t think he’s going to want to know about his child?”

Kham let out a loud laugh.  “You’re serious?”

“What?”

“What Kham’s trying to say,” Beldin grunted between strokes of the paddle, “is that he doesn’t think Quintus is the father.”

“How can you be sure of that?” asked Vlad.  He looked offended.

“I’m not great at numbers, but if the elorii birth cycle is the same as a humans, then it takes nine months from conception to pregnancy.” Kham ticked off nine fingers.   “Atum estimates she’s been pregnant for three months so far. She wasn’t anywhere near Quintus during that time.”

“So whose child is it?”

“Ilmarė’s,” Beldin said forcefully.  “And that will have to do until she’s ready to tell us.”

Sebastian swooped by, his huge bat-like wings holding him aloft.  “There’s a beach nearby.  Follow me.”

They rowed after him.  The south beach of the island was a wide expanse of fine black sand.  It was bordered to the north by tall saw grass and finally the dense expanse of jungle beyond.

Beldin and Vlad dragged the boat to shore.

“That’s okay, we don’t need any help,” said Vlad.

Kham shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.  “I knew you could handle it. I didn’t want to be here in the first place, remember?”

Sebastian landed on the beach.  He obviously enjoyed the freedom of flight.  “I saw the remnants of a landing craft and the ruins of a campsite from above. I’ll scout around some more.”  The dark-kin launched himself into the air.

“So they landed here for sure.” Vlad looked around.  “I wonder who was following Livius?”

“Who else has a ship capable of sailing halfway around the world?” Kham kicked a seashell into the sea. 

There was a deafening explosion in the jungle forest.  A terrible wave of burnt vegetation assaulted their nostrils. Screams of pain followed soon after.

Sebastian landed on the beach again and folded his wings. “I saw a castle-like rocky outcropping that way.” He pointed westwards.  “Let’s go.”

Kham peered into the forest.  The jungle was too moist to burn for long, but smoke trails plumed upwards. “What the hell happened just now?” 

“You were about to be ambushed by five tcho-tchos.”

“I take it back,” said Kham in awe.  “I really like your wings.”

Something big and hungry bellowed in the distance.  Its heavy footsteps vibrated the ground. 

“I think we just piqued somebody’s attention,” said Sebastian with a brief smile.  “Let’s get out of here before it shows up.”


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 1 – The Citadel*



> _Day 4 – Writing this on deck somewhere.  Yesterday, Carbo used the sweet words of the Unspeakable One to break Flavius’ memory of the orders he was given.  Today he employed a variation on the same subtle language to tell him our goal is Drakmar.  Flavius now thinks this was the plan all along.  I almost feel sorry for the fool.  Anzalone has told Cho Sun we’ll leave upon docking._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



A sheer cliff face of volcanic rock rose fifty feet above them.  Sebastian flapped in a circle around it.  

“I saw a wisp of smoke,” he shouted down.  “Perhaps from a campfire.”

A stream of curses and warnings from above assailed him.  

“Who goes thar?”

“Oh, I know that voice,” said Kham.  “Baldric you old sea dog! Let us in!”

“Kham?  Thar be Kham?”

“Aye.  Now stop cursing and start lifting!”

“What th’ hell be that thing flyin’ around!”

”You’ve met him, that’s Sebastian.  And he’s not so bad once you get past the wings…and tail…” Kham lowered his voice. “…and the claws…and the pointed ears…”

A rope ladder was lowered and Kham clambered up it.

Haggard from lack of nourishment, Baldric and his crew were in a sorry state indeed.  

“This be what’s left of me crew.” Baldric introduced them with a flourish. “Me new first mate, Keaton.  Ye know Crazy Bob, me second mate.  This here’s Clive, a priest o’ Yarris.  And finally Wu Shu, th’ cook. As fer ye, ye look…” he looked Sebastian up and down, “different.”

“We’ve been through a lot of changes lately,” said Kham.  “I thought you gave up the pirate’s life and became an honest man, Baldric?”

Baldric grinned a gap-toothed grin.  “An’ here I thought ye were dead! ‘tis a strange thing, bein’ in politics.  Ye don’t know yer friends from yer enemies.  A bit like piracy, only without th’ ship.”

“So you lost the election for the Privateer’s Seat on the Captain’s Council?”

“Aye,” Baldric said glumly.  “Th’ fool, Xavier Gordon, won’t give up his seat.  Somethin’ about stayin’ in it until th’ war is over.”

“Which one?” asked Beldin.

Baldric chuckled.  “All of ‘em, if ye ask Gordon.  But mostly th’ Hinterlanders hired by th’ Emperor are stirrin’ up trouble.  They sent a punitive strike force against Entaris when word got out that Menisis was courtin’ th’ elorii.”

“What?” Vlad asked in disbelief.  “That’s an act of war!”

“Not an outright declaration o’ war, o’ course, but it’s comin’ to that.” The other crewmembers nodded their heads.  Except for Crazy Bob, who seemed to nod to himself all the time. “War keeps Freeport in business, ye see.  When Egil asked me fer help—“

Kham rubbed his forehead. “Wait, Egil’s here?” 

“Aye.  We were pursuin’ Cho Sun’s ship, th’ Rapier, across the ocean when he doubled-back around and caught us with our pants down.  Destroyed th’ Shrike too.” The men took off their hats in reverence for the loss of their beloved ship.

“Why were you pursuing Cho Sun?” asked Vlad.

“After Kham was sentenced to th’ Hulks, Egil figured he was the only chance at stoppin’ Livius.  So he hired me and me mates to pursue him right to Nyambe.”

“Who else was with you?” asked Sebastian.

“The Countess D’Amberville, two of her girls, and Tranco.  Funny thing, havin’ a lady like that comin’ along.  I don’t know why she went with the likes of Egil, but she was very interested in stoppin’ Livius.”

“He said Tranco, didn’t he,” Kham said to Vlad.  “Henry Tranco.”

“Aye, that be him.”

“Word is that they were captured by tcho-tchos,” said Beldin. “They plan to sacrifice the captives tonight.”

Baldric’s bushy eyebrows went up.  “That’d be th’ village of Ola Tombo. We were separated after Cho Sun destroyed th’ Shrike.  I figured they’d be dead by now.”

Sebastian and Beldin exchanged glances.  “We have to rescue them.  They can tell us where Livius was headed.”

“Ye’ll be on yer own, though we’ll outfit ye as best we can.  All we’ve got here is fruit, goat milk, and th’ occasional wild boar.”

From the pirates’ citadel, Kham could make out the tcho-tcho village.  

“Of all the people in the world,” he muttered to himself, “it had to be Tranco.”


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 2 – The Village of the Ola Tombo*



> _Day 18 – I can’t sleep.  In the dark my mind always races but not with the usual nighttime thoughts of my mortality.  What are we doing?  I have so many fears.  Will we find Drakmar?  If we do, will Chaugnar Faugn and the tcho-tchos kill us as they must have killed so many?  What if we are to fail to help the King in Yellow back to Onara? What if we succeed?_
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



The drumbeats grew louder as they approached form the hills above.  A spiked, bamboo wall adorned with skulls surrounded the village.  Many of the island’s natives writhed and danced in a blood ritual around a fire at the center of the village. 

Tied to stakes in the center of the village were Egil, Tranco, and three other women.  They were bound about the wrists, ankles, and throat by narrow cords of hide.  A witch doctor had slashed the men’s chests, drenching them in blood.

“It looks as if the villagers are preparing to move their prisoners very soon,” said Vlad.

Kham leaned against a tree and started cleaning his nails.

“What are you doing?” asked Beldin.  “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Yep.”

“And you consider that helping?” asked Vlad.

“Yep.” Kham shrugged.  “I’m staying out of the way.”

“Out of the way of what?”

A roar answered them.  

The drumming stopped.  The tcho-tchos turned to look at the source of the bellow.

Suddenly, Sebastian burst from the cover of the jungle canopy.  A gigantic tyrannosaurus rex pounded behind him.  Whenever it lost interest, the dark-kin pointed and a white ray nipped the creature in the snout.  It bellowed again in rage.

“That.” Kham swigged a potion and disappeared.

Sebastian led the beast straight into the center of the village.  He had lured it for miles out of its normal habitat, dodging in and out of foliage and nearly getting snapped in half once by the beast’s slavering jaws.  

The tyrannosaur pounded straight through the center of the village.  Tcho-tchos threw spears, fired bows, blew blowgun darts, and even the witch doctors cast spells.  Nothing stopped the tyrannosaur.

It whirled.  With a sweep of its tail, the tyrannosaur leveled huts and tossed tcho-tchos screaming into the air.  It cut a swat in front with the front of its head, and then snatched up a mouthful of villages from the crowd.  Tossing them high into the air, they disappeared screaming.

Sebastian let loose another fireball, setting the huts on fire.  That ruined the morale of the tcho-tchos, who fled screaming into the jungle. 

Beldin and Vlad watched.

“So…” said Vlad.  “Should we do anything?”

“I think we’re more helpful here.”

Kham reappeared, having cut free the captives.  They followed in a bedraggled trail behind him out of the village. 

“Good job guys,” he said with a grin.


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 3a – The Monastery*



> _Day 37 – Anzalone, Carbo and I went to the Towers of Silence to speak to a holy man. Most go to listen—we went to talk. He talked of Chaugnar Faugn and the White Acolyte he waits for.  We talked of the Son, the Acolyte, the King in Yellow, the Tattered King who one sees only in dreams and of the Stranger in the Pallid Mask, the Ghost who moves among us.  And we spoke of the Unspeakable One, whom Carbo and Villiers have seen.  I watched the man closely.  Though he didn’t speak I can read a man’s eyes and he knew that what we said was true, knew what was coming, knew we were part of it._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



Hiking up the face of the Demon’s Horns was no simple task. While there was no technical climbing necessary, there were plenty of passages that required strength, balance, and care.

Kham grunted, struggling up the side of the cliff. “Funny, I don’t see Tranco with us.”

“We went over this.” Sebastian hovered, flapping his wings.  “They’re all in bad shape.  It’s best that we leave them with Baldric.  They told us that Livius and his men went to the top of the Demon’s Horns, so that’s where we’re going.”

“I’m still not sure how Yolanda got there,” said Kham.  “She was in Carcosa when we last met.”

Leaving Tranco meant leaving him with Yolanda, and Kham wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“We’ll deal with that later,” said Sebastian. “Right now we have to stop Livius before he summons the King in Yellow.”

It took six hours of hard trek before they reached another dwelling. Two hours into the ascent, they had to negotiate a difficult cross-slope strewn with small rocks.  Then they saw the monastery.

Built from the same stone as that on which it sat and augmented by red-painted clay, the monastery buildings clung to a steep cliff, a huge swathe of which was painted white.  As they toiled closer, it was clear the greater part of it lay in ruins.  Only the main temple seemed largely intact.  It had tiny windows and no signs of life—no people, animals, noise, or smoke.

The main approach was across open ground, but on there were broken boulders scattered thickly all the way to one edge of the building.

“Those boulders must have once tumbled from the cliff above,” said Beldin.

When they were about three hundred yards away from the monastery, a figure appeared in the doorway.  The man paused.

Vlad waved.  “Hel—“

A shot echoed off the mountain above. Vlad spun in a spray of blood and collapsed.

“Sniper!” shouted Kham.  He drew his pistols and ran towards the boulders.

Beldin hunkered down behind his shield and stood over Vlad.  “I’m not leaving him.”

The man calmly walked towards them, reloading his rifle.  A bat-winged shadow passed overhead.

Kham fired a retort.  Dust exploded near the man’s feet.  

There was a strange shuddering in the ground.  The man looked down, curious.  Little pirouettes of dirt plopped up and down out of the earth, as if something were burrowing to the surface.

Then a forest of thick, ochre-colored tentacles exploded out of the ground, encircling the man’s arms, legs, and even his throat.  One tentacle yanked the rifle from his grasp.

He struggled, helpless.  Then he saw the flying ochre jaws.  They flew straight for his head…

Kham winced as the man’s headless body was released from the tentacles and sunk back into the ground.  

“Is it just me,” he asked Skiz, who peeked out of Kham’s pouch, “or is Sebastian’s magic getting…yellower?”


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 3b – The Monastery*



> _Day 74 – We head out from Anzalone’s map reference.  We split up: I lead one group to climb the dry valley.  Flavius takes the other over the side of the ridge to the south.  We walk all day and meet to camp as the light falls. It’s very cold and hard going.  No on lives up here—there is nothing for anyone._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



Sebastian looked carefully at the shooter’s head.  “That’s Carlo Schippone.  I saw a drawing of him in Sweet Savona.”

They entered the monastery through the door Carlo had used.  Inside was a rough-hewn cave, very dark, with steps leading up. Stone steps and wooden ladders led up to another unlit cave and then into a larger assembly hall.

The hall had three small windows, each letting in just a glimmer of light.  At one end was an elaborate wooden altar bearing frescoes of five Nyambe deities.

“Ever see these before?” Sebastian asked the others.

Kham frowned.  “I don’t need to.  Look at the last one.”

It was a yellow deity clothed in robes.

Above the altar sat racks with statues, books, and copied manuscripts.  In the center of the room was a pallet, several blankets, a small barrel of water, some cooked rice, nuts, honeycomb, and hard bread.

Beldin sniffed.  “Do you smell that?”

A grim, sweet smell emanated from nearby.  

Vlad ducked his head out of the adjacent chamber.  “That’d be the bodies.”

Vlad discovered five bodies, laid out neatly should to shoulder: four adults and a child.  The bodies showed advanced decomposition. 

“This must have been the holy man Schippone mentions in his diaries,” said Sebastian. “He slaughtered them all.”

“Let’s give them a proper burial.” Beldin thought of all the deaths he had witnessed at Semar.  “We have the time.”


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 4a – Toward Drakmar*



> _Day 75 – We’ve found it.  My group came across it at midday just where we thought it would be.  The tall cliffs and the valley floor are painted orange and there are caves all around. Our porters have left, and although the guide stayed he will not camp in the valley.  Anzalone is quite sick now—he woke several times in the night saying he was suffocating._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



The initial passage from the monastery was as difficult as the day before.  For three hours they were forced to scramble up the same steep scree-covered slope.  The world was monochrome: blacks, grays, and whites.

At the end of the morning they crested the ridge.  The valley was steep-sided and as bone dry as a baked furrow in a midsummer field.  It climbed steeply to the east.  The wind hurtled ferociously, mindlessly down it. 

Sebastian landed.  “No way I can fly up this. The winds are strong enough to dash me against the rocks.”

They spent the remaining five hours of daylight climbing the valley, traveling east away from the river and further into the mountains.  The walking was arduous in the thin air and the howling wind, and conversation was difficult. As it got dark they were forced to camp in the open.  

Fortunately, they had picked up supplies from the monastery.  They were woefully unequipped for the cold weather after being boiled by the stifling heat of Nyambe. 

Vlad peeked his head out of their tent.  Kham was already up, staring out at the landscape.

“It’s like we’re the only people left on Arcanis,” he said to Vlad without looking at him. 

There was no mark of man, although the eye could see for many, many miles from the top of the ridge.  There was frost on the rocks, ice in the crevasses.  

As they struggle upward the valley became steeper, its sides rising up a hundred feet or more.  They walked on and on, monotonous hours in the shriek of the wind.  Snow stung their faces. Only Beldin showed no signs of discomfort.

Then, at midday…something.

It was an effect that dwarfed all they had seen before.  Up ahead, the entire north side of the valley was colored.  The dull, baked orange color stretched right to the high cliff tops, maybe two hundred feet, and ran for about half a mile.  Piercing the cliff were scores of cave openings and spread across the valley floor underneath the ruins were chortens, laying where they fell amidst vivid splashes of the same ochre color. 

“Can you hear that?” asked Kham.

“Hear what?” asked Vlad.

“It’s like…like dim thunder. It comes every minute for two and persist for a few seconds, like a heartbeat.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

Beldin pointed.  “You may want to take a look at this.”

They discovered a fire-scorched area.  Close by was a broad, flat rock marked with a brown stain.

Sebastian kneeled down for a closer look. “It’s blood.”


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 4b – Toward Drakmar*



> _Day 76 – We entered Drakmar for the first time and there is script on the walls with drawings.  In the fourth cave, a creature was watching us from the shadows—quite still—a tcho-tcho.  When I saw him he moved quietly away.  Flavius saw him then and he shouted and raised the gun but I stopped him.  I said it must have been a monk or even one of the porters come back, but he does not believe that.  He is very watchful now.  Our guide left in the night.  We went in again today and found fresh waste, and then human bones.  Just jaws, which I think had been stripped by human teeth.  There is a deep regular noise that can be heard (was it there all the time?) and the ground seems to tremble every so slightly.  It moves in rhythm with my own heart.  I think I am close to panic.  Flavius insists we must leave the place and we agreed.  He is packing everything as I write this and intends to watch all night. But none of us will leave._
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



The caves were quiet.  The lowest were just forty feet or so up, the highest three times that.  

“I count sixty-seven openings,” said Beldin. 

There were paths, stairs, and handholds and footholds that appeared fashioned by hand or by use.  Nothing distinguished one cave from another.

They clambered carefully up to one cave.  Inside, there was a roughly circular tunnel about five feet in diameter leading back into the cliff.  The floor of the tunnel was as smooth as glass, as though many, many feet had passed through.  The walls and even the ceiling were smooth, too, perhaps from the trailing of thousands of p[alms and fingers.  It was dark inside.

Beldin was ahead of them.  “There’s all sorts of things in here.”

The tunnel traveled on for between twenty and thirty feet before opening into a small, round chamber twenty feet across and ten feet high.  The wall of the chamber was rough.  

“What kind of things?” asked Vlad.

“Tiny marks.”

“What?” Vlad entered the room along with the others.

“They're all over.” Beldin pointed to the walls. “Look around you!”

There were tiny marks, tally marks, grouped in nines covering the whole surface, even the ceiling—thousands and thousands of these marks.

Sebastian was looking down.  “There’s a pile of bones here too.”

Kham recognized the bones but kept his mouth shut. They were human foot and hand bones.  He kicked them aside. 

The other caves, linked by corridors, had similarly disturbing finds that pointed to ages of habitation and reverent sacrifice—depressions with neat and separated piles of powdered bone, raised surfaces laid out with skeins of human hair, and deep troughs choked by coagulated blood. 

“I hate to say this, but this is the best place to camp,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Part 5 – Night Sweats*



> _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE in the dreams I saw the monster the root of all evil a dream and reality a nightmare or not and walking in a surge of fear and pleasure the three of us and he was a little way off they talked and when he looked around at me with his eyes I struck him down hit him again and again he took so long to fall I am looking at him now they were furious WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE wasted hatred WHAT HAVE YOU DONE but how could he matter was he the white acolyte no WHAT HAVE YOU don’t know he lies still spread out before me a bloody cut of meat he waits for them and with him they will come_
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



Sebastian thrashed in his sleep as the nightmares came again. 



> Carlo Schippone felled his companion, stubbornly clubbing him over and over with a rock, patiently breaking his face down to the bone.  It was a man he knew well, someone who trusted him.  Kham recognized him.  It was Flavius Servilius, the centurion who had demoted Quintus years ago.
> 
> Whistling tunelessly, Schippone produced a knife and started to strip Flavius’ body open like he would a rabbit.  Though Kham wanted to look away, he watched him make every cut.
> 
> Then Schippone laid the corpse out on a rock, wet-red.  A hundred quiet ghosts could smell the blood.  They looked out of their black lair in the rock and wondered…
> 
> Sebastian too was tormented by something horrible in his sleep.  He was all alone in the dark.
> 
> Something old and bloated was out there.  It shifted its weight.
> 
> Sebastian stood still.  He held his breath.  It was coming closer.
> 
> Did it sense the trail of the tears down his cheeks?  He staunched the flow but there was the tick of his heart.
> 
> Warmer.
> 
> Warmer.
> 
> Sebastian muffled his heartbeat but it listened to his shadow scraping across the rock at his back.
> 
> Found you!
> 
> It reached out with its clotted mind and took hold of him.  He couldn’t breathe, his blood stopped in his veins and all he could do was pray for death, to look away as it slowly came out into the light and simply…unfurled.


----------



## talien

*Chaugnar Faugn: Conclusion*



> _A god a monster WHAT HAVE I DONE its out there a piece of the monster tcho-tcho WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE WHAT HAVE I DONE_
> 
> --Carlo Schippone’s Diary​



Sebastian awoke with a start.  At first light, a sobbing echoed across the stony confines of the valley.  It seemed to be human and it persisted.

“Where's it coming from?” asked Vlad.

“That passage,” pointed Beldin into one of the spiraling paths into darkness.

There were bleating moans. It sounded familiar.

“DRIL?” Vlad jogged down the tunnel.  “Dril where are you?  Tell me where you are!”

Dril’s voice cried out louder in pain. 

Kham tried to stop Vlad but he was already past him.  “Althares!  That’s not Dril!”

Vlad paused.  The crying came from another tunnel.

“Dril?” Vlad turned back to Beldin. “Is it over here?”

“No it's over here,” said Beldin. 

“DRIL!” shouted Vlad at the top of his lungs.  He looked around desperately. “Well, don’t just stand there! Look for him!”

Kham shook his head.  “His body was in Semar.”

“We didn’t find a body!” Vlad’s voice cracked. “We’ve seen stranger things!  Maybe the Unspeakable One took him!” He turned back to the tunnels. “Tell me where you are Dril!”

“Somebody!” came Dril’s voice.

This time they all heard it.  It was undeniably Dril’s voice. 

“Okay,” Kham said carefully. “That can't be him.”

“Someone!” shouted Dril’s voice. “I need help please!  Please help me, gods!”

Vlad ran down a low corridor that led away, sloping slightly upwards.  Only a little way in it became clear it is deep and very long.  

“Vlad,” shouted Kham behind him.  “Slow down!”

“Dril?” Vlad shouted. 

“Vlad!” shouted Kham.  “Vlad!

“Come on!” Vlad was frantic, near hysteria.  “I hear him!” 

“Vlad do not...” began Sebastian.  

He was cut off again by Dril’s voice.  “Please, help!”

Vlad was urged on, running faster towards the source of the voice. 

He stopped in the tunnel.  Dril’s voice had been there but seconds ago. “Where is he?”

Kham caught up to him. “Is he in here?”

“No.” Vlad looked around.  “Damn it.”

“No!” shouted Dril’s voice.  “Gods!”

“I hear him!” Vlad took off again at a sprint.  “I hear you!  Where?  I'm coming down the tunnel!”

“Over here!” came Dril’s muffled voice. 

“Where are you?” He yelled over his shoulder at Kham. “Come on!  Dril?” 

Kham struggled to keep up.  Sebastian, with his huge wings, had difficulty navigating the passages.  Beldin was right behind him.

“Dril?  Dril!?  Dril is that you down there?”

Vlad reached the end of the tunnel and stopped.  Kham skidded to a halt behind him.

“Althares,” was all he whispered.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 53: To Drakmar - Introduction*

This scenario is adapted from a Chaosium adventure, “The Upper House” from the Tatters of the King supplement by Tim Wiseman, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This last adventure wraps up the story arc involving the King in Yellow, AKA Umor, AKA the Unspeakable One, AKA Hastur. I was banking on one particular character being the salvation of the others and, as always, it never turns out that way.  The players always manage to surprise me.

There are quite a few things that also surprised me, not the least of which is the cold dealings with Livius Carbo.  The adventure makes a big deal that anyone facing the progenitor of the play that has killed thousands should feel bad about killing him in cold blood. Not so our adventurers!


----------



## talien

*To Drakmar: Prologue*

Stone trembled with the beat of a heart.  Up ahead there was a ghost of pale light and a chill breeze.  The corridor opened into a great, empty chamber.  Entering, Vlad could finally straighten and stand. Kham entered behind him, Sebastian and Beldin soon after.

The crying was muted, but it didn’t matter anymore. Vlad knew that it was indeed a trick. Dril wasn’t calling to him. Dril hadn’t been there at all.

It took a moment to look into the light—weak as it was, it had an odd quality.  It issued from a portal opposite.  White and flat, it spilled into the cavern.  Something moved there, not in the cavern but beyond it—through the doorway.  

The cavern itself was a roughly circular space around sixty feet across and forty feet high.  Four tunnels led into it, including the tunnel they had entered, a second and third close on either side of that, and the fourth on the other side of the cavern.  The last held a great silhouette. 

“What the hell is that?” asked Vlad.

A great bulk shifted sluggishly.  With its elephant-like head and corpulent body it appeared to be some kind of nightmarish abomination.  Its veined ears flared up, its trunk shifted, the round disc at its end questing.  There was the faint sound like that of stone sliding across stone.  Small creatures moved across it.

“I’d guess that’s Chaugnar Faugn,” whispered Kham. 

The outline of a human emerged from under the thing and stood, dwarfed beside it, for this thing was the size of ten men.  

Tcho-tchos entered from all three tunnels on their side of the cavern, more than a dozen at each.  They were armed variously with boomerangs, knives, and fire-hardened spears, but made no move to attack.  A priest with each group came forward a little, curious.

“Stay calm,” said Sebastian.  “Don’t make any sudden moves.”

The human figure walked from beyond the light and into the cavern.  His appearance was awful.  

He was naked. His eyes were put out, as were his teeth and half his tongue.  His nose was flaccid and hung to his upper lip.  His ears were distended and corded, twitching and flaring unnaturally.  

“This is… was Professor Roberto Anzalone,” whispered Sebastian.  “I recognize him from the picture.”

The thing approached each of them in turn and looked closely.  Once, Anzalone tried to speak, but the sounds he made were thick and unintelligible, and a thin stream of blood drooled from his ruined mouth.  The figure trudged back to stand beside the gate.

Several of the tcho-tchos went to the gate and one of the priests beckoned Kham towards it. Kham joined him at the gate.

A priest took one of Kham’s hands, palm up, and slashed it with a bone knife.  Kham winced, but he kept still. 

The priest let it bleed, then dipped a finger in the blood before smearing a pattern on the wall beside the portal.  

Kham remembered his encounter with the King in Yellow, when it had worn the form of Elise.  There, in the blowing snow, it had promised not to forget him.  “You are the key, Kham,” it said.  

The gate was activated. A high keening came through the gate, loud and constant, and as it sounded the white light became blue.  A murky picture of a human standing with several tcho-tchos replaced the outline of the strange elephant being.  

“Livius Carbo,” said Kham.

The priest did not hesitate but walked straight through the blue light, followed by several companions.  Kham and his companions were strongly urged at spear-point to join them.

Taking a deep breath, ignoring his bleeding hand, Kham walked through the gate.


----------



## talien

*To Drakmar: Part 1 – The Plateau of Leng*

They stood in the middle of a vast, featureless plain. The landscape beyond the gate was unexceptional in every way.  Scanning the terrain, there was nothing to interrupt a vista of flat, frozen earth.  It was very cold, and there was a dusting of snow on the ground but mercifully, no wind.  

“I think we’re back in Kadath,” said Kham.

There was no sign of the portal they had stepped through.  The keening had stopped.  No features marked the edge of the tundra; no trees or mountains stained the horizons.  It was night and thousands of stars were in the sky, each pure and sharp, a beautiful sight.  

Sebastian looked up at the night sky. “Those are Arcanis constellations, but their relations have subtly changed.” The orange star Aldebaran was visible low, low in the sky, sitting just above the horizon.

Livius stood surrounded by the squatter tcho-tcho cannibals, a father amongst his warped children.  He was tall and slim with dark hair.  Despite being the progenitor of a play that had killed thousands, he looked normal, clean and shaven, and wore a white chuba.  He smoked a cigarette.

“Hello again,” Livius addresses Kham.  “I see you’ve come to stop me.  Or have you been converted the One True Way?”

Sebastian stepped forward.  Livius seemed unperturbed by the dark-kin’s more demonic appearance, complete with forked tail and bat wings. 

“We have come to join you,” he said.  “After the deaths of so many, we welcome our new master home.”

Livius took a puff from his cigarette.  “Really?  I remember you throwing my play into the dirt of the arena.  You didn’t seem so sure then.”

“We weren’t,” said Sebastian.  “It took a lot of trials for us to comprehend His majesty. But if it will save Onara from itself, we will gladly welcome the King in Yellow.”

“And yet you’ve murdered so many.  Montague Edwards, for all his misguided attempts.  Lucius Roby, who only wanted to live in Carcosa forever.  Even Talbot Estus. He was a gifted playwright.” 

“You forgot Elijah Quelch,” added Kham.

Livius chuckled.  “Did I? And what of you, Kham?  Are you not here to murder me in cold blood?”

Kham kept his arms folded.  “If I was going to do that, you’d be dead already.  Don’t you worry, Livius, I plan to see this through to the end, just like you.”

The tcho-tchos were nervous and anxious to move.  More spear poking encouraged them towards Aldebaran. 

“I think we’re bound for a temple or town,” said Livius. “I wonder if others might already be there.  When we arrive, I will of course summon the King in Yellow.”

“Of course,” said Sebastian.

“You spoke of war,” said Livius.  “Then war has finally come to Onara?”

Sebastian nodded.  “Coryan is in the middle of a civil war.  The Emperor accused Felician val’Mehan of conducting secret negotiations with the heretical priests of the Dark Triumvirate of Canceri. Calsestus branded the Patriarch a heretic and a traitor.”

“Ah yes.  Then it is done.” He smiled to himself.  “Hastur appeared to the masses.”

“In one of his guises,” Sebastian spoke carefully. “A valinor said: Let none doubt that Calsestus’ will is the will of the Gods.”

So the conversation went as they marched across the unchanging and bleak landscape.  The tcho-tchos led silently but betray an urgency and edginess, constantly scanning the horizon and sky. 

With time suspended under the stars and no change of night to day, they grew tired, hungry, and thirsty.


----------



## talien

*Drakmar: Part 2 – Shantanks*

After six hours, a tcho-tcho made a noise and pointed into the sky.  

Sebastian squinted.  “What is that?”

It looked like a bird flying towards them, growing bigger and bigger. It flew off to their right and as it came abreast its form could be properly made out.  

It looked like something from legend: massive, its huge wings beat slowly.  It had a mammal’s heavy head, which it turned on a long neck to regard them as it flew by.

“That’s no byakhee,” said Vlad.

“That was a shantak, actually,” explained Livius.  “As Hastur awakens, Kadath thaws and the beasts of old stir from their hibernation.”

The tcho-tchos pressed on.  They seemed tireless, but their companions were not.  

“We must rest,” said Livius.  Even his boundless enthusiasm had limits.  He leaned over, put both hands on his knees.  “Just for a moment.”

The tcho-tchos conferred and then left them alone. 

“So I guess you’re not superhuman, huh?” Kham was exhausted, be he refused to show it in front of Livius.

Livius smirked.  “I am as human as you are, Kham.  And, I imagine, I’ve murdered far less in the name of my god.”

Kham was about to reply when a tcho-tcho called out a warning. 

From out of nowhere, a shantak decapitated a tcho-tcho with its maw. 

The tcho-tcho priests screamed orders, creating a protective circle around them.  There was not one but two shantaks, lazily circling overhead, looking for a weakness in their defenses.  

Sebastian turned to face Livius.  “You really think you’re blameless?  Perhaps I should list the friends who are dead because of the cult you created!” He stalked forward, eyes brimming with rage. “It’s because of YOU that Holden Ash’ur and Calactyte died defending Semar from an attack of Ssethregoran cultists.  It’s because of YOU that Nauris Dril was blown to bits by those same cultists.  It’s because of YOU that Kham’s father, Corinalous, was murdered by Michael Coombs’ blast powder bomb! It’s because of YOU that we had to kill Ilmarė Galen’s sister Anulee!”

The tcho-tchos turned to separate the two, but a dive by the shantak distracted them, tossing warriors high into the air in a spray of blood.

Livius put up his hands, tears in his eyes.  “I never meant for them to be harmed.  Those who follow Hastur sometimes lose their way, like any religion. I am sorry for their loss.  You have to believe that.”

Sebastian wasn’t finished.  “You started a plague that still ravages Onara to this day.  You started a war that may end in the destruction of everything and everyone we hold dear.  You’re sorry?”  He lifted one hand.  A sphere of white light appeared in it.  “I’m sorry too.”

“No,” began Livius, “wait—“

“Frigus sphaera!”

Sebastian slapped the freezing orb into Livius face.  

The tcho-tchos spun to watch the grisly conflict.  Livius’ expression was literally frozen, his entire head an ice sculpture of his features. 

Then Livius’ head exploded into bloody chunks of ice.  His headless body slumped to the ground.

Kham pulled out two pistols.  “That’s our cue.” He fired and two tcho-tchos died.

Beldin and Vlad needed no further encouragement.  Wielding weapons both hands, they whirled, felling two tcho-tchos at the same time.  The other warriors struggled to rally, but the diving shantaks had them on the defensive.

“This ends now,” said Sebastian.  He flapped up into the air and pointed at a cluster of tcho-tchos.  “Incendiares globus!”

The ensuing explosion ripped the remaining tcho-tchos apart.  The shantaks, sated and fearful of the flames, veered off.

Nothing but smoking bodies lay strewn around them.

“Now what?” said Kham. 

“Now,” Sebastian’s demeanor was rigid, cold.  He pointed at the one star that shone brightest on the horizon. “We follow Aldebaran.”


----------



## talien

*Darkmar: Part 3 – The Upper House*

Time passed.  The landscape was unaltered.  The star was slowly dipping—it touched the horizon.  Although solitary shantaks were sighted twice more, they were far off and there were no other alarms.  

Something was interposed between them and Aldebaran, blotting out a portion of the star.  A construction of a fair size was ahead, surrounded by monoliths.  

The building was large and slab-sided, built of stone.  It was two hundred and fifty feet on a side with fifty-foot high walls sloping slightly inward and stained a dull orange.  There was no door immediately visible and no windows anywhere.  

Vlad looked up at the monoliths.  “These look familiar.”

The monoliths about it stood twenty feet tall and were smoothly-tooled, four-sided, tapering from a base four feet square to a flat top two feet on a side.  

“It’s strange that even though there’s nine of them, they’re regularly spaced around the structure in a circle, not in the shape of a V,” observed Beldin.

“That’s because they’re not trying to summon the Unspeakable One,” said Kham.  “He’s already here.”

A single doorway on the side of the structures faced Aldebaran, an unobstructed opening twenty feet square beyond which was a passageway that maintained the same large dimensions.  

The walls of the passageway were vividly painted with scenes: from outside only a few can be discerned for they soon disappear into darkness, but the ones that could be seen showed cities fought over by armies that were not quite human.  The paint was bright and clear.

“Do you hear that?” asked Vlad.  “Faint piping from inside, rising and falling.”

“The King in Yellow,” said Kham.  

They went in.  After fifteen yards the corridor leading into the Upper House was masked by darkness.  Lights penetrated only dimly, vaguely.  The first step into the gloom effectively placed them into a labyrinth.  

Kham looked back. The exit and his companions were gone.


----------



## talien

*Darkmar: Part 4 – Navigation Through the Upper House*

Inside, the fluting of the pipes was more clearly audible. As Kham walk, the sound sometimes seemed closer, or sometimes it was dim, or disappeared entirely.  

Kham traveled for miles.

Skiz popped his head out of the haversack.  “Where we going, boss?”

“Not sure, Skiz.  But I’m hoping we find our way to the end before I run out of food or I’m going to have to eat you.”

Skiz sniffed up at him.  “More likely the other way around, boss.”

“Very funny.”

Kham walked on and on.  He passed through a massive chamber that took hours to cross, all the while out of sight of walls or ceiling. He journeyed beyond a corridor that opened into a succession of thousands of empty cells. 

Sometimes the way was illuminated: a shaft of weak light slid down into a chamber from an unknown source, a gleam of phosphorescence seeped from cracks in the floor, and flat stones gave off a gray glimmer.  But most of the time Kham journeyed in darkness.  With Daemonscar, he could see no matter how dark it became…but the others might not be so lucky.

He imagined how they would survive.  Beldin and Sebastian could see in the dark.  But Vlad was not so gifted.  The Milandisian would eventually be plunged into total darkness.  And then how would he find his way?

Kham came across a fountain set in the wall.  The water smelled sweet.  

“Water!” shouted Skiz.  The rat hopped out of Kham’s haversack and began to drink.  

“Is it okay?”

“If it’s good enough for a rat, boss, it’s good enough for you.”

Kham leaned down next to his talking rat and palmed some water.  After taking a deep breath, he took a drink of it. It tasted bitter, but his thirst was sated. He refilled his wineskin.

Kham shared a piece of jerky with Skiz, tearing off a piece of it for him.  “That’s the last of our food.  Don’t eat it all at once.”

They ate in silence.  Skiz reared up on his hind legs to look around. 

“This place has weird paintings, boss.”

Kham had become so accustomed to not looking anywhere but ahead that he didn’t notice.  Friezes depicted black sailing ships navigating interplanetary space. Another frieze showed amoeboid creatures emerging from the hulls of black ships and conquering and then ruling a face of bronze humanoids.

“K’n-yan.  They were the race before humans discovered the Unspeakable One.  Looks like even the k’n-yan are new to the scene compared to those blobs.”

Skiz froze.  “I hear piping nearby.”

“We’ve been hearing that for days,” muttered Kham.  But it was true, the pipes were louder.

Kham picked up Skiz and deposited him back into the haversack.  They took off towards a stairway leading upwards.  As he climbed, the music grew in volume and become frenzied. When he reached the top, the noise stopped.  

Kham found himself in a space quite unlike any other.


----------



## talien

*Drakmar: Part 5 – The Heart of the Upper House*

Kham was outside.  He was in a formal plaza.  It was illuminated by the light of stars and by the reflections of those stars in the black polished floor.  Sebastian, Beldin, and Vlad were all there.  Sebastian and Vlad looked terrible, with cracked lips and sunken eyes.  Only the dwarf held his own, his constitution accustomed to long periods of hardship.

Sebastian barely managed a wave.  He was weak from hunger and thirst. “Good to see you, Kham.  I don’t suppose you have any food?”

“No food, but I found some water.” Kham threw the wineskin to Sebastian.  The dark-kin slurped from it thirstily.

As they passed the wineskin around, Kham took a look at their surroundings. Aldebaran was visible very low down—its twin was reflected in the floor, the two touching and merging.  A breeze brought a scent of cypress trees.  Away from them, something stood out white, and there was a light, but it was distant and indistinct.

Kham took a step forward.  He accidentally kicked a small object that slid and spun across the floor.  As it went, there sounded a single clear note, swelling then falling.  

Sebastian picked up the object.  “Pipes,” he said. 

The pipes were intricately carved in black with two mouthpieces curving down around a slotted barrel to become six pipes.  The design resembled the byakhee, their mouths the mouths of the pipes, the ribbed wings the barrels.  

Suddenly their surroundings changed.  They were in the center of a large space on a white stone dais, fifty feet square, which stood just above the surrounding floor.  On the dais were two rounded pillars eighteen inches apart.  Each was about ten feet tall and six inches in diameter.  The gap between them gave off a faint white light.  Just to one side of the pillars stood an empty stone lectern. 

A moment later there was a figure that could be observed clearly. 

“The King in Yellow,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Drakmar: Part 6 – The King in Yellow’s Path to Arcanis*

The King in Yellow was a thin figure, more than eight feet tall.  He had human proportions and shape and wore tattered robes of yellow and white that whipped around him in a non-existent wind. His cowl was up, throwing a deep shadow over his face.  Long sleeves covered his hands and arms that fell by his sides.  His attention seemed at the same time focused and distant.  

As Kham watched him, the hood momentarily flapped back as if in a breeze, and just for an instant showed a black space where the King’s face should be—here were depths unimaginable, deeper than the sky, and there was a brief sensation of falling.  

The King’s words were heard and understood in their minds.  

“Who will guide me?”

They all looked to Kham.  This was his task to complete, they said without speaking.  He was the key, after all.

Kham stepped forward.

“Give me your hand.”

Mesmerized, Kham could not refuse.

The King took Kham’s wrist, palm upward.  In his other hand a small hooked knife appeared.

“Have you found the Yellow Sign?”

Kham nodded. The King cut Kham’s palm and held it out over the lectern that stood besides the Gate.  The blood fell in a thin stream and though Kham’s hand didn’t move, the trail painted a perfect Yellow Sign on the marble.  The light in the gate turned from white to blue.  There was suddenly an unearthly keening that echoed all around.

The King let go of Kham’s wrist.  He stood side by side with the ancient deity before the shrill gate, washed with its blue light.

“Will you guide me to your home?”

Kham paused.  He couldn’t do it.

“NO!” he shouted.  He reached for his pistols…

The King slashed Kham’s throat.  Gurgling, clutching at his neck, Kham fell to the ground.  Blood poured out of him.

Vlad and Beldin ran over to his dying body. 

“Who will guide me?” the King asked again.

Sebastian stepped over Kham’s body.  “I will.”

Beldin looked up.  “What?  No!  Stop!” 

The King took Sebastian by the hand.  They stepped through the gate and disappeared from view.


----------



## talien

*To Drakmar: Part 7 – Stepping to Arcanis*

All the time, the King looked into Sebastian’s eyes, and he was unable to not look back.  He had the sensation of stepping into a void, followed by momentary brief confusion.  

Again and again, Sebastian struggled to look away.  But he kept finding his gaze slowly, inexorably, dragged back.

Finally, summoning up every fiber of his being, Sebastian stared at the spinning universe around them. 

There was a moment of clarity. Sebastian saw stars, star clusters, and planets.  

He remembered the phrase from Talbot Estus’ playbook, The Queen and the Stranger.  



> _The stars that burn their charcoal death
> Shrink back, they feel the hoary breath
> Of he who ransoms great Carcosa
> He flees where queen and prophet meet
> Where twin suns fall but never set
> Escapes the tomb of lost Carcosa.​_



“Twin suns?” thought Sebastian. “It has to be a binary star…”

Sebastian scanned the infinite horizon and was rewarded with a glimpse of twin stars amidst a patch of black.

And then he intentionally misstepped. 

He was leaving Arcanis behind; it couldn’t be reached any longer.  The King seemed aware of that fact, but he did not react.  

They walked on together in silence until a cluster of stars was visible. Red Aldebaran was at its center, and then lovely Carcosa sitting beside a lake of clouds and water.  Twin suns sat in the sky.  

The King spread his arm out to encompass the place.  

“You are the unluckiest of souls.  It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”


----------



## talien

*Drakmar: Part 8 – Escape*

The healing potions worked on Kham’s flesh, but his throat wound seeped a vile yellow pus.  

”We’ve got to get him out of here,” said Vlad.  “Or he’ll die for sure.”

The gate pulsed with a white light.  Vlad started dragging Kham towards it.

“Wait!” Beldin grabbed Vlad’s arm. “We need the Yellow Sign to be daubed in blood.” He cut a palm and dripped blood in a rough approximation of the Yellow Sign, as the tcho-tcho and the King in Yellow did.

Nothing happened.

The dwarf frowned. “It has to be human blood.”

“It has to be Kham’s blood.  He’s the gate.” Vlad cut Kham’s palm, reopening the wound on his hand, and dripped the blood before the gate. 

The light between the pillars changed from white to blue.  A deafening keening echoed around the chamber.

They rushed through the gate. There was a sensation of falling into a void, followed by momentary confusion.  Then they were on the shore of the Island of Chaugnar Faugn.  

Kham slowly, groggily, got to his feet.  His throat was awful to look at, but at least he was alive.  They found their longboat and began rowing back to the mainland of Nyambe.

“Do you think Sebastian really did it?” asked Vlad.

“In leading the King in Yellow to Arcanis?”  Beldin looked up at the stars.  “Sebastian would never do that.  Since we’re all still here, he must have led the King somewhere else.”

“But where?” asked Vlad.

Kham rubbed his throat.  He tried to speak but couldn’t.  He just pointed over their heads.

A galleon sailed behind them. Aboard the Nǎoké was an exotically dressed Khitani pirate. He had a knife to a woman’s throat.  It was Yolanda, the woman Kham had met in Carcosa. 

“I have your friends,” Cho Sun said with a thick accent. “If you do not give me Chaugnar Faugn’s treasure I will begin killing them one by one, beginning with this girl! You have ten minutes to decide.”


----------



## talien

*Drakmar: Conclusion*

The King in Yellow leaned in to embrace Sebastian.  Tentacles curled out of the cowl and reached for his face…

When Sebastian awakened, he found Carcosa once again stopped in time between the Stranger’s arrival and the unmasking.  He walked freely through its streets and found the city much the same as it was on Arcanis except for one thing.

The embrace of the King in Yellow was worn as a mark that all in Carcosa could perceive.  It was a taint, a disease, an infection.  Residents weren’t able to say what they found uncomfortable about him…was it his manner?  His appearance?  His soul?  Regardless, they shunned him.  Sebastian became accustomed to seeing others move away as he approached.  

Each night, Sebastian saw the stars, Arcanis, the King in Yellow.  Sometimes the King appeared in his chamber—the King was the only one who would be with him.  Sebastian even grew to rely upon his familiar presence.  

He took to regular walks in the city in flowing white robes, which were always set aside for him by the King. Carcosa was spread out beneath him, and over the roofs the lake itself was a great stain of shadow, except on its far, far shore.  There reflected the lights of the Palace.

Although Carcosa contained many impressive structures, its Palace dominated the city.  It was extensive, boasting three huge, loosely defined wings, each with towers, parapets and spires supported at points with buttresses and joined to one another by soaring walkways.  The mostly separate wings were unified by jointly fronting three sides of a vast square.  The square itself became a balcony that depended out above the still waters of the lake that bordered its fourth side.  The whole building was a mixture of styles, but somehow a triumph of form.  

The streets around Sebastian were small and twisted, rising and falling unexpectedly.  It seemed a more modest part of town, but the buildings still offered their own grandiosities—aerial walkways in iron, wooden carvings of fabulous beasts or nature, chimney pots that were cast simulacra of its owner’s trade: shoes and boots, muskets, silver fish.   

As Sebastian turned a corner, he came upon a small group of masked figures.  As the rest moved off, the last turned to greet him.

“And I am Noss,” he said, swaying drunkenly.  Noss doffed a blank, white disk of a mask. 

“Sorry, who?” asked Sebastian.

“Noss.  I’m Noss.  Didn’t you ask just now?”

“No,” said Sebastian.  “I didn’t.”

“Ah.  Well, you look like you’re not from here.  Were you born here?”

“No,” said Sebastian.  “I’ve just moved in.”

Noss nodded.  “I’m sure it looks quite different from last time. There is a great festival happening that has given rise to much excitement. A Stranger has come to the city who promises further upheaval—we wear masks in the Stranger’s honor, hoping that all will be to the good.”

“Me too,” said Sebastian.

“If you need help, I can act as your guide.”

“Yes, that would be nice. But there’s just one thing…”

Noss turned, and Sebastian was very close to him. “I need your mask.”

“What?”  Noss’ expression turned to fear.  Then his eyes became unfocused.  He slid off the knife Sebastian always carried with him.  

Sebastian picked up the mask and put it on. He walked away, whistling to himself as he stepped over Noss’ body. 

Wearing all white with a featureless mask, Sebastian set out to amuse himself with the denizens of Carcosa. 

Several residents, all masked, suddenly appeared at adjoining windows in one building and leaned far out.  One was pointing behind them, while the others strained to see what the masked woman was indicating. There was a shout of recognition, a shrill scream, and some slightly hysterical laughter.

“Mother, there is a Stranger in the city!”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 54: The Nǎoké - Introduction*

This scenario begins with a scene from the Necromancer Games adventure, “The Isle of Bonjo Tombo” from the Dead Man’s Chest supplement, set in the Arcanis setting and continues with “The Viceroy of India” adapted from the Tatters of the King Call of Cthulhu supplement by Tim Wiseman.  You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter/seeker of the cerulean sign) played by Amber Tresca 
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com/) 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Where last we left our heroes, they were in dire straits.  Sebastian had sacrificed himself to save Arcanis by leading the King in Yellow to Carcosa.  Kham, who ended up being the key to opening the gate to Carcosa, had his throat slit by the King in Yellow and barely survived.  Ilmarė was pregnant and exhausted from her journey through a Ssethregoran portal.  And their allies had been taken hostage by Cho Sun, the dreaded Khitani pirate.  With no way home and few options, Vlad and Beldin are getting frustrated.  And there’s nothing more dangerous that two frustrated fighters.  

I changed the name of the ship from the original adventure (it was called the Rapier) to the Kitana, for want of a better “Khitani-sounding” name.  But as Jeremy pointed out, that’s not much better.  So I changed it to Nǎoké. It means “skull” in Chinese.  I thought it fitting since Cho Sun and his men were known as the Brotherhood of the Skull.  

This is the adventure where Beldin picks up a magic item that changes his relationship with the sea, for the better.  This is also our heroes’ first real nautical adventure, complete with swashbuckling heroics, giant sea monsters (two!), romance, betrayal, and the pirate life.  As Beldin soon discovers, the life of a pirate may seem glamorous on the surface, but deep down it ain’t pretty.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Prologue*

Vlad handed one of the oars to Kham.  They were in the open sea, somewhere off the coast of Nyambe, completely at the mercy of Khitani pirates.  

The Milandisian warrior didn’t need to look at his Solani companion to know that they were of the same mind.  They weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“Do you think you can hit him from here?” asked Beldin.  The dwarf squinted.  It was over a hundred yards to the ship, and even further to reach the crow’s nest where Cho Sun held Yolanda hostage.

“No.” Vlad cranked his crossbow, his back concealing his actions to the pirates. “I don’t.”

Beldin grinned beneath his bushy beard.  “Good.  I was afraid this would be too easy.” He cranked his own crossbow.

Kham was uncharacteristically silent. With his throat cut by the King in Yellow he had difficulty speaking. He set to rowing, brow furrowed.  

“Any wizards?” asked Vlad.

Beldin scanned the deck.  “Hard to tell.  Not familiar with Khitanis.  But there’s a woman in robes on the aft deck.  She’s as good a candidate as any.”

Vlad nodded.  “This may be our only shot.”

“If I die, throw my body overboard.” Beldin loaded his crossbow. “I don’t want my stone in the hands of those mongrels.”

Vlad held his crossbow tight to his chest.  “Don’t worry.  I don’t intend to survive long enough to see you die. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Suddenly, the pirates, who had been jeering at them from the decks, went utterly silent.  Vlad turned to see what happened.

The pirates were looking at each other in shock.  Cho Sun struggled with Yolanda in the crow’s nest.  The Khitani wizard was gesturing helplessly.  Someone had magically silenced the ship.

Vlad dropped to one knee and took aim.  “Now!”

He and Beldin fired simultaneously.  The shots went wide.

“That was a mistake!” shouted Cho Sun in his clipped speech.  He backhanded Yolanda, who crumpled.  Then he stretched out one hand and concentrated.

Vlad looked up as a thundercloud formed overhead.  “Oh crap.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 1 – The Nǎoké*

Ilmarė, in a small boat rowed by Mashudu, watched the pirates stare at each other in shock as her magic took hold.  If there were any wizards on board, they wouldn’t be casting any spells.

But she hadn’t counted on the pirate captain.  She was on the other side of the Nǎoké; with all the attention focused on Vlad and Beldin, they hadn’t seen her boat.  

She slumped backwards, exhausted.  It would have to be enough.

The crack of thunder boomed overhead and suddenly it started hailing around her.  Mashudu bravely did his best to keep the rowboat steady, but it was a lost cause. She dove off the boat into the water; she was safer in the ocean than exposed in the rowboat.

Mashudu was not so fortunate. Seconds later, Cho Sun pointed at their tiny vessel and a swirling vortex pulled the rowboat under.  She gasped for air, struggling to find the surface.  

_Osalian help us,_ she prayed. _If not for me, then for my child._

A trail of bubbles streamed from her nostrils.  She followed them heavenwards…

And burst through the surface of the choppy ocean, taking in a great lungful of air. Mashudu was nowhere to be found.

Surely the pirates would see her.  She was an easy target.

Cho Sun’s attention was divided between the two rowboats on either side of the Nǎoké. He turned again to Ilmarė.

A woman popped up next to him in the crow’s nest.  She kicked and Cho Sun hurdled over the edge, his scream choked off by Ilmarė’s magic.  He spattered on the deck without a sound.

An eternity passed and the elorii wondered if her god had abandoned her.

Then a rope dangled in front of her.  As Ilmarė clambered up the side of the ship, she saw Kham at the other end, leaning over the deck.  

He smiled and managed to croak out. “Welcome back.”

Ilmarė put her hands on her hips and looked the crew up and down. “You’re the last person I’d expect to throw me a rope from this ship.”

“Pirate rules,” said Kham, his voice gravelly.  The assorted men aboard ship, a motley bunch to be sure, had resumed their tasks.  “Killed captain…take ship.”

“Actually,” Vlad frowned at Kham, “Cho Sun was pushed off his deck.”

Beldin held a white ring up to the sunlight, spattered with the captain’s blood.  “Now that I have his ring.” He put it on one stubby finger.  “I don’t think they’ll give us any trouble.”

Ilmarė leaned back on the rails of the ship.  The exertion of swimming for so long had exhausted her.  

“Are you all right?” asked Vlad, concerned.

She waved them off.  “I’ll be fine.  I am elorii, we don’t have the problems your human women do with childbirth.”

“I meant the part about where you nearly drowned.”

Ilmarė looked over the side of the ship.  “Mashudu is dead.  Osalian watches over me.”

“Thought he was…dead too,” croaked Kham.

Ilmarė ignored him.  “There are not enough men to crew this ship.”  Indeed, the pirates were busy tossing the corpses of their companions overboard.

Yolanda, recently freed from her bindings, rubbed her wrists.  “When you didn’t return, we decided to go looking for you.”  She looked sideways at Brother Egil, who was busy untying the others.  “Baldric and his men preferred to wait.”

Kham smirked.  “Let’s go get…our captain,” he husked.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 2 – Pirates*

“I don’t care how good Baldric is,” muttered Ilmarė.  She had her eyes closed, enjoying the warm temperature of Nyambe’s calmer seas.  The sun felt good on her skin.  “These pirates can’t be trusted.”

Kham rubbed his throat.  It had been three days since they had boarded the Nǎoké.  The men muttered to each other in Khitani.  Only Kham could understand them, but he didn’t share what they said.

“They’re the only crew we’ve got.” Kham’s voice was still gravelly.  “We gave them a choice: join us or be marooned.  They joined us.” Sometimes it hurt to speak. 

Ilmarė opened her eyes.  “Then tell me how that ship got so close to us without the lookout spotting it.”

Kham blinked.  “What…” He looked over the side. “…ship?”

“All hands to battle stations!” shouted Baldric.

A smaller ship had pulled along side of the Nǎoké. On its sails was painted a yellow dwarf head.

“It’s the Fang!” Kham clambered up the main mast.  

“The Fang?” Beldin picked up Windcutter and his shield.  “It’s captained by Yulfario, a mean dwarf if there ever was one.”

Ilmarė watched the dwarf in disbelief. “Where are you going?”

“To go talk to him.” And with that the dwarf hopped overboard.  A moment later they caught a glimpse of Beldin walking along the waters, buoyed by the magic of Cho Sun’s ring. 

A volley flew back and forth between the two ships, peppering the decks with arrows and bolts. 

Kham wrapped one arm around some of the rigging, Coomb’s knife clenched between his teeth.  He raised Talon up and slashed the rigging, sending him sailing across the gap between the two ships.

Kham landed on the ship’s mainmast, facing Yulfario himself.  

“Ye can’t board me ship!” snarled Yulfario.  He hacked at Kham’s head, forcing the val to dance back along the yardarm. “I’m boardin’ YER ship!”

Kham didn’t say anything.  He sheathed Talon and gripped Coomb’s knife with both hands.  Then he lunged at the sail.

The air whistling past him, Kham sliced his way down the sail, cleaving it in twain. He landed in front of the ship’s wheel. 

The first mate that was at the helm drew his blade in a flash.  Kham jumped backwards to avoid the attack.

Yulfario landed behind him.  “Now yer tryin’ t’ take over tha Fang?  I’ll send yer head back to yer crewmates!” He swung his blade in a wicked arc.  Kham ducked.

The blade connected squarely in the center of the wheel where it was connected to the rest of the ship.  It groaned and fell right off, landing on the first mate.

The ship lurched hard, sending Kham, Yulfario, and the first mate flying.

“They’re going to ram the Nǎoké!” Vlad was in a rowboat with Ilmarė between the two ships.  

“Not if Beldin can help it.” Ilmarė pointed. “Look.”

The dwarf, standing calmly on the surface of the ocean as if he were merely lingering on a beach, stretched out one hand towards the ship’s rudder.  Ice formed in a growing fin from Beldin to the Fang, engulfing the ship’s rudder.  The Fang yawed drastically with a terrible shriek of wood and metal. 

“My ship!” shouted Yulfario on the deck, spittle flying from his lips.  “You’ll pay fer this!”

The Fang, its course abruptly corrected, couldn’t handle the strain of the ice on the rudder.  With a terrific crack, much of the aft began to splinter apart.

Kham winked at the pirate captain and hopped off the deck, landing safely in Vlad’s rowboat.  

Yulfario raised a crossbow, but he was struck down by the sudden crash of the Fang’s mast, smashing him into the sodden deck.  The Fang was rapidly disintegrating.

Vlad rowed Kham and Ilmarė back to their ship. The ocean lifted them up gently with a wave of his hand and deposited them on the Nǎoké’s deck, courtesy of Beldin’s ring.

“We lost some men,” muttered Baldric.  He nodded at Kham.

Kham stood before the drenched pirates, smiling. “I’m giving you a choice…”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 3 – Sea Serpent*

The ship’s sails were struck to permit a handful of sailors some time to attend to a leak in the Nǎoké’s keel. 

“So…” asked Kham as nonchalantly as possible.  “Who’s the father?”

Ilmarė was unflapped.  “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh I know.  I just figured I should ask.”

“It’s not who you think.”

Kham smirked.  His throat was feeling better, although he would have the ugly scar across his throat for the rest of his life.  “Well it’s not me.  And I’m pretty sure it’s not Quintus…” he was watching her reactions, but the elorii’s beautiful features were impassive, as usual.  “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m fine.”  She turned to look out at the ocean.

“Look...” Kham rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about pushing you through the portal.”

The elorii didn’t look at him.  “I would have done the same to you, were you to reveal something I wanted to conceal about my past.” She patted her stomach.  “Fortunately for the both of us, the child is fine.”

Kham stared at the deck.  “Maybe you should consider…you know, retiring.  It’s one thing for us to get into danger, but you’ve got responsibility now.”

Ilmarė didn’t say anything.  She was staring upwards.

“I know, I know, I’m one to talk about responsibility.  But I’m sure the father, whoever he is, would agree that he wants the child safe.”

Ilmarė blinked, speechless.  The sea churned beyond the deck of the ship.

Kham continued to stare at the deck.  “So it’s the silent treatment huh?”

“Sea serpent!” shouted Baldric from the stern.  “Evasive maneuvers!”

Kham looked up.

A column of flesh and scales reared out of the surf.  The beast spread its fins outwards like wings and the shadow encompassed the whole of the Nǎoké.

“Get back!”  Ilmarė shoved Kham.  A huge cord of tail slapped across the center of the ship, wrapping around it.  

Crossbows fired, but they were nothing to such a huge beast.  Its light green underbelly sparkled in the sunlight.

“She’s gonna drag us down!” shouted Baldric.

“Not if I can help it!” shouted Beldin.  The dwarf threw a hand ax at the beast.  The blade, infinitesimally small compared to the sea serpent, bounced off its snout. 

The sea serpent’s head whipped about.  It had red flukes along the side of its skull and equally glaring red eyes.  The sea serpent’s maw opened impossibly wide, revealing two pairs of yellow fangs.  

“Got your attention now?” shouted the dwarf.  “Pick on someone your own size!”

More coils slapped around the bow of the ship as it entwined the Nǎoké like a python.

The head shot downwards with blinding speed, gouging out planks of wood where the dwarf had stood only moments before.  The sea serpent lifted its head and swallowed.

Kham stared, agog.  “I think we just lost our dwarf.”

The serpent’s head swayed, its glaring eyes tracking the tiny figures on board the ship.  It focused on Ilmarė.

“Ilmarė, look out!” shouted Vlad. He fired a crossbow from the aft of the ship.  The sea serpent ignored him.

The head reared backwards.  Ilmarė stared upwards at the beast unafraid.  

With a shriek, the sea serpent’s head darted forward and then abruptly stopped.  Its eyes crossed.  Then it began whipping back and forth, jerking to and fro.  The coils loosened.

The sea serpent convulsed and vomited onto the ship.  Beldin, along with dead fish, seaweed, and all manner of debris, splashed onto the deck.

With another bone-shaking roar, the sea serpent sank into the depths and disappeared.

Beldin rose to his feet, brushing seaweed out of his beard.

The pirates looked on in shock.  

“Guess it doesn’t like the taste of dwarves,” said Beldin gruffly.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 4 – Whaler*

“Ship to the starboard!” rang out from above as the Nǎoké approached a becalmed ship, her sails furled.  The ship in question was listing badly to one side, nearly taking on water because of the severe angle of the deck.  

“I don’t believe it,” said Vlad.

Hanging from a spar by a complicated assembly of block and tackle was the sea serpent they had encountered the day before.  The beast was a pincushion of spears, bleeding from countless wounds.  Into the open mouth, a man lowered a bucket and retrieved an oily substance that was transferred onto the deck to large barrels.  The ship was alive with activity, despite the pervading smell of death.

“They stole my fish!” snarled Beldin.

“That be the Long Day’s Night, out o’ Freeport,” said Baldric.  “Th’ ship and crew are well known as mariners o’ exceptional skill and whale hunters unparalleled.”

Ilmarė sneered.  “A disgusting habit.  Osalian’s creatures should not be harvested in such a fashion.”

“I know this ship,” said Kham.  “Their captain, John Amos, has a knack for avoiding dangerous seas.  Wonder what he’s doing out here?”

The Nǎoké pulled alongside the Long Day’s Night. Amos waved from the deck.  “What ho, Baldric?  Seems like Cho Sun caught up with you!”

“More like we caught up with him!” Baldric shouted back.  “What be ye doin’ so far out t’sea?”

“War, my friend.” The ships came close enough so they didn’t have to shout.  The stench of dead serpent assailed their nostrils.  “Coryan is in the midst of a civil war and Freeport is caught in the middle.  The seas aren’t safe for a decent fishing man.”

“So then what be ye doin’ out here?” said Baldric with a gap-toothed grin.  “But I know yer meanin’.  Th’ political climate in Freeport ‘tis why I took this job, fer all th’ good it did th’ Shrike, Yarris rest her soul.”

Amos nodded solemnly.  “She was a good ship.  But you’ve got a new crew and a new ship, and a fine one at that!”

“Aye, aye.  What news then?”

“Ominous storms ahead, my friend.  It’s why we’re moving quickly, we need to get back with this catch.”

“My catch,” muttered Beldin.

“Someone is trying to swim to our ship, Baldric,” Ilmarė said quietly.

Baldric leaned over the rail.  “Why th’ lass is right!  Who be ye?”

The man, caught in the act of floating with a small barrel between ships, waved helplessly.  “Help!  I need to get off this ship!”

Amos looked down.  “Gods, not this again.”

“So he’s yours then?” asked Baldric suspiciously.

“Aye.  Clem is a bit mad.”

Ilmarė drew her bow.  “I can kill him now and be done with it.”

“Easy, lass.”  Baldric put one hand out to stop her.  “That’s still a member of Amos’ crew and ‘tis his t’ deal with.”

“We don’t want him!” shouted Amos with a broad smile.  “He’s nuttier than a loon and a terrible whaler.”

“What makes you think we want him?” asked Ilmarė.

“Oh come on!” chimed in Kham.  “Let him on board.  We can put him to work.  We’re short-handed anyway, right Baldric?”

Baldric grunted.  “We could use someone who speaks Low Coryan. If yer sure…”

“I’m sure,” said Kham with a broad smile.  “He’ll be my responsibility.”

“Fine.  We’ll let him on board.”

Ropes were thrown down and Clem clambered onto the deck.

“This is a mistake.”  Ilmarė put down her bow.  “If he makes one wrong move I will slit his throat.”

Kham nodded.  When the elorii walked away he turned to Vlad.  “Isn’t motherhood grand?”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 5 – The Isle of Song*

They had come upon an uncharted island.  Baldric called for a longboat to approach the isle and conduct reconnaissance. Clem and Vlad rowed, with Beldin, Kham, and Ilmarė in the center.

“It’s just a barren piece of rock,” said Ilmarė.  “This is a waste of time.”

The island was only three hundred feet across, comprised almost entirely of jagged rock. Birds beyond number had roosted on it, as the stony barren provided the perfect resting place for a long flight between islands.  Much of the island was covered in bird droppings, and several crags contained nests.

Kham hopped onto the island.  “C’mon Clem, let’s go check it out.”

“Yes, sir!”  Clem had a wide-eyed, starved look about him.  Hair stood out in tufts on his cheeks and chin.

“This entire place smells of feathers and fish,” said Ilmarė in disgust.  

Kham climbed one of the outcroppings. He brushed against something that tumbled down the rock face. It was a ribcage.

Kham reached the top.  “Looks like a nest.”

Clem reached him a moment later.  “Do you hear that?”

Kham sifted through the debris. “Hear what?”

“The singing.  They’re calling us.”

“Calling us?” He looked at Clem.  “You okay?”

Clem reached down and snatched something out of the nest.  

“What have you got there Clem?”  Kham’s hands slowly moved to his pistols. 

“Nothing.  We have to go to them.  Can’t you hear them?”

Kham froze.  He could hear something.  Calling him.  Tempting him.  It was mixed in with the crashing of the waves, but it was soft and beautiful and longing.

“I think we should go.”

“Yes!”  Clem clutched whatever it was in his hand to his breast.  “We must go to them!” He started to walk off the side of the cliff.

Kham put one hand on Clem’s shoulder.

“Don’t try to stop me!” The man spun around and stabbed Kham in the arm with a sliver of what looked like glass.

Kham cursed and grabbed Clem’s wrist. Clem knocked Kham down, attempting to plunge the dagger into his eye. They struggled perilously close to the edge. 

Suddenly, Ilmarė’s voice cut through the song.  She sang of dawn turning to silver glass, of a light on the water, of souls passing.

Clem suddenly dropped the crystal blade and got up.  “I-I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.”

Kham stood up, dusting himself off.  Blood was seeping through his overcoat.  “It’s all right.  We’d better go now.” He picked up the crystal knife. “And just to be safe, I’ll take this.” 

They made it down to the boat just as Ilmarė’s song finished.  

Vlad noticed Kham’s wound. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” Kham exchanged looks with Clem. “We were just enjoying Ilmarė’s song.” He turned to Ilmarė.  “Have I mentioned that I’m glad you came with us?”

Ilmarė was unimpressed.  “You can explore the next island by yourself.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 6 – Sea Spider*

Vlad squinted out at the ocean.  It was his turn to be on watch.  Eight days had passed since the journey began, and there was something to see almost every day.

Nothing.

Beldin, who couldn’t see quite as high over the rail, kept him company.  

“We’ve encountered just about everything the Pale Sea can throw at us,” the dwarf said gruffly.  “Sirens.  Sea serpents. Pirates. I thought for sure that island we were on was going to turn out to be a giant turtle.”

“You thought that too?” Vlad laughed.  “Captain Baldric says we’re a third of the way there.  Hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out.”

Beldin grunted.  “I doubt that.  I have half a mind to become a pirate myself.”

“With that ring you took off of Cho Sun, you probably could be.”

Beldin looked down at his feet. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” 

Dripping saltwater, the huge furry leg of an arachnid slapped onto the deck, sending sailors flying. 

“That!”

Two huge fangs were visible next, topped by a crown of beady black eyes.

“Sea spider!” someone shouted.

“Sea spider?” Vlad asked in disbelief.  “Seriously?”

Two more legs reached the deck.  The ship listed hard as the spider clung to the side of the Nǎoké.  Its torso arched underneath the spider.

“Oh no,” said Vlad, “it’s going to—“

Sticky webbing sprayed the deck, entangling everyone and everything.  The trapdoors from the decks below were glued shut.  Vlad could hear the crew pounding on the doors to let them out.

Vlad skidded in front of the thing, sword and shield at the ready.  “Now I’ve seen everything.”  He hacked at one of the creature’s legs.

The sea spider screeched and recoiled.  Then it darted forward, both fangs sinking into Vlad’s torso. It tossed him effortlessly across the deck.  He skidded to a stop, unconscious and foaming at the mouth, ensnared in a cocoon of webbing.

Beldin skidded to a halt in front of Vlad’s unconscious body. 

The spider lurched forward again, slapping at Beldin with one of its legs. The dwarf was knocked back several feet but held his ground.  Its fangs followed soon after, striking home around Beldin’s shield 

“Poison, eh?”  Beldin snarled.  “You’ll have to do better…than that…to stop…a dwarf.”

He took two steps forward and then fell over the side of the ship.

More crewmen wailed in despair.  On the forecastle, Henry Tranco continued to play solitaire on a table bolted to the deck.

Yolanda pounded the table.  Besides the crew, Vlad, and Beldin, they were the only ones on deck. “Aren’t you going to do something?” 

“Nah,” said Tranco. “It’s under control.”

“Does that look like it’s under control?  Vlad has been poisoned and Beldin just went overboard!”

“Yep,” said Tranco. “But you forgot something.”

Thunder boomed overhead.  The spider hesitated, startled by the sound.  Swirling white clouds formed in a vortex above the ship.

“What’s that?”

Then hail fell.  And fell.  And fell.  The hailstones started out small but increased in size.  The deck became covered in snow and ice. 

“Beldin has Cho Sun’s ring.”

Tranco kept flipping cards.  He flicked some ice off of the table.

Finally, a huge hailstone the size of a man smashed into the arachnid’s head.  With another screech it slipped off the side of the ship.  Tranco put one hand at the far end of the table and his cards slid into his open palm as the ship righted itself.

Tranco sauntered over to the one of the trapdoors and sliced it open with his knife. Brother Egil poked his head out.

Beldin collapsed back onto the deck. The dwarf was purple from the poison and drenched in seawater.  But he was still alive. 

“You may want to help out the Milandisian,” Tranco said to Egil. “He’s been poisoned.”  

Tranco turned to Yolanda, who was shivering from the sudden cold snap.  “There, see?  I helped.”

“You’re a real jerk,” she huffed off. 

Tranco shrugged.  “What can I say? I never make a bad bet.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 7 – Soothsayer*

It was the elorii’s turn to stand watch when she sounded the alarm. In the distance, two hundred yards off the starboard stern, a great geyser erupted from the ocean’s surface.  At first it appeared to be a whale emitting air through its blowhole, but after a moment it became apparent that the phenomenon was all together different.  

“What is that?” asked Vlad.

The jet of water rose thirty feet into the air, its source remaining hidden beneath the surface.  The water was a majestic white plume and it sparkled as if motes of silver were contained in its stream.  

“The Oracle of Osalian,” Ilmarė said in awe.  “We must go to it.”

“Go to it?” Kham looked at the elorii sideways.  “Didn’t you say before that you weren’t rowing out to any other islands?”

“This is different.  The Oracle of Osalian has not appeared for hundreds of years.  It is a sign of Osalian’s blessing that he has chosen to reveal its presence to me.  I shall go alone.”

“Oh no you don’t,” said Kham.  “I’m going with you.”

Beldin was already helping winch the rowboat down to the surface of the ocean.  “We’re both going.”

They rowed out to the geyser.  It stood immobile like a pillar, unwavering in its motion.

“Now what do we do?” asked Beldin.

”We must touch—“

But before Ilmarė could finish speaking, Kham dove into it…



> The walls of the room were covered with mosaics depicting courtly scenes. The floor was polished marble. Two thrones sat atop a raised dais. At the east end of the room a red velvet carpet ran from the double doors to the thrones.
> 
> In his vision, Kham wore a white mask and a silken robe on which the Yellow Sign was embroidered. A woman, who Kham instinctively knew to be Cassilda, turned to look at him.  She was the Queen of Carcosa Castle.
> 
> With a quick and violent motion, Cassilda plucked a torch from a sconce and hurled it from the balcony into the Lake. There was only starlight.
> 
> “I have not seen you! I have not seen you!”
> 
> “You echo you priest,” said the Stranger. “You are all blind and deaf—obviously by choice.”
> 
> “I…suppose it is too late to be afraid,” said Cassilda. “Well then; I am not.”
> 
> “Well spoken, Queen. There is in fact nothing to be afraid of."
> 
> “Please, phantom, no nonsense.” Cassilda pointed at his robes. “You wear the Sign.”
> 
> “How do you know that?” asked the Stranger. “You have never seen the Yellow Sign.”
> 
> “Oh, I know. The Sign is in the blood. That is why I…” he hesitated. “That is why I choose to abdicate to Aldones.”
> 
> Uncharacteristically, all the Stranger said was, “uh…”
> 
> Cassilda wasn’t following the script.  This was all wrong.  He had followed the ebb and flow of the play for countless months, maybe years, ever since he had ventured into Carcosa Castle and became trapped there.  He lived it over and over.
> 
> But something was different.  Cassilda had always chosen to marry Camilla, her daughter, to one of her own sons, either Thale or Uoht.  Sebastian never discovered whom she chose; the King saw to that. Who was Aldones?
> 
> “No blood should have to carry such knowledge through a human heart,” continued Cassilda. “No children’s teeth so set on edge.”
> 
> The Stranger’s relief was palpable. They were back on track. “You face facts. That is a good beginning. Very well, then; yes, in fact, this is the Sign. Nevertheless, Cassilda—“
> 
> “Your Majesty—“
> 
> “—Cassilda, there is nothing to fear. You see how I wear it with impunity. Be reassured; it has no power left.”
> 
> “Is that…a truth?”
> 
> “It is the shadow cast by a truth. Nothing else is ever vouchsafed us, Queen Cassilda. That is why I am white: In order to survive such colored shadows. And the Pallid Mask protects me—as it will protect you.”
> 
> “How?” asked Cassilda.
> 
> “It deceives,” said the Stranger. “That is the function of a mask. What else?”
> 
> “You are not very full of straight answers.”
> 
> “There are no straight answers. But I tell you this: Anyone who wears the Pallid Mask need never fear the Yellow Sign. You tremble. All the same, my Queen, that era is over. Whatever else could you need to know? Now your Dynasty can start again; again there can be a king in Hastur; and again, Cassilda, the Black Stars can mount the sky once more against the Hyades. The mists can be lifted. Humankind can have its future back.”
> 
> The mists had surrounded the castle since the Stranger had entered the grounds.  He tried several times to leave, but it would not let him.  He experienced nightmarish visions of the King in Yellow, and the pain grew more intense with each passing second until he returned.
> 
> “So many dreams!”
> 
> “Only wear the Mask, and these are given,” said the Stranger. “There’s no other thing required of us.”
> 
> “Who tells me this?”
> 
> “I am called Sebastian.” That was new.  He had never been able to say his own name.
> 
> “That is only Alaran for ‘stranger.’”
> 
> “And Aldones is only Hasturic for ‘father.’ What of that?” The words came out of the Stranger’s mouth but he didn’t know why he said them. Whoever Aldones was, he had altered the outcome of the play.
> 
> “Your facts are bitterer than your mysteries. And what will happen to you, Sebastian, you with the Yellow Sign on your bosom, when the Sign is sent for?”
> 
> “Nothing at all. What has Carcosa ever had to do with the human world, since you all lived in mud huts? The King in Yellow has other concerns, as is only supernatural. Once you don the Pallid Mask, he cannot even see you. Do you doubt me? You have only to look again for yourself across the Lake. Carcosa does not sit upon this world. It is, perhaps, not even real; or not so real as you and I. Certainly, the Living God does not believe it. Then why should you?”
> 
> “You are plausible, you in your ghost face. You talk as if you know the Living God. Do you also hear the Hyades sing in the evening of the world?”
> 
> “No,” the Stranger said shortly. “That is strictly the King’s business. It is of no earthly interest to me.”
> 
> Cassilda recovered a little of her aplomb. “I daresay. How can I trust any of these answers? Do we indeed have to do nothing more to be saved than don white masks? It sounds to me like a suspiciously easy answer.”
> 
> “Test it then.”
> 
> “And die? Thank you very much.”
> 
> “Not so fast,” said the Stranger. “I would not kill you, or myself.”
> 
> The Stranger had killed many outside the city, but he chose his victims in Carcosa Castle carefully. In all the incarnations, he had yet to kill the Queen, or indeed any of the key players.  But the servants and guards were all fair game.
> 
> “I propose a masque, if you will pardon me the wordplay. All will wear exactly what they choose, except that all will also wear the Pallid Mask. I myself shall wear the Yellow Sign, just as I do now. When you are all convinced, the masks will be doffed; and then you may announce the Succession, all in perfect safety.”
> 
> “Oh, indeed. And then the King descends.”
> 
> “And if the King should then descend, we are all lost, and I have lost my bet. I have nothing to lose but my life. You have more. And if the King does not descend, what then? Think! The Yellow Sign denatured, human life suddenly charged with meaning, hope flowering everywhere, the Phantom of Truth laid forever, and the Dynasty free of all fear of Carcosa and whatever monsters live there, free of all fear of the King in Yellow and his tattered, smothering, inhuman robes!"
> 
> The moon rose slowly, contrary to the direction of sunset, and the stars faded, though they did not quite disappear.
> 
> “Oh Living God!” exclaimed Cassilda. “How would I dare to believe you?”
> 
> “You do not dare not to.“
> 
> Long waves of clouds began to pass over the surface of the Lake of Hali, which sighed and heaved. Spray rose. They stared at each other in a dawn and sunset of complicity and hatred.
> 
> “Why would I not dare?” challenged the Queen. “I who am Cassilda? I! I who am I?”
> 
> “Because, Cassilda, risk nothing, and you risk it all. That is the first law of rulership. And, too, because, Cassilda, in your ancient heart you love your children.”
> 
> “Oh, you are a demon! You have found me out.”
> 
> The Stranger laughed.  He hadn’t laughed in previous versions of the play, but the Queen’s accusation was apt. She had never called him a demon before; but he most certainly was one, of that he was sure.
> 
> “That is what I came for. Very well. I shall see you tomorrow, after sunset. Wear the Mask, and all eyes will be opened, all ears unstopped. Good night, my Queen.”
> 
> “If you are human, you’ll regret this.”
> 
> “Utterly. And so, good night.”



Then Kham was out of the Oracle and back in the ship.  He looked around, focusing on his companions.

Beldin and Ilmarė looked crestfallen. 

“We saw nothing,” said Beldin.  “What did you see?”

Kham rose to his feet, a new determination in his eyes. “Sebastian’s still alive.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 8 – Needful Things*

The lookout spotted an approach vessel.  The ship flew the colors of Freeport.

“Looks like an unarmed merchant schooner,” said Baldric.  “Crazy Bob!  Flag her down!”

Crazy Bob used semaphore flags to contact the ship.  In a few minutes, the two vessels were exchanging greetings and presently pulled abreast of each other.  On the schooner’s hull were painted the words, “Jungle Scout”.

To their surprise, Aljandros Haddon stepped out onto the deck. He was a fabric merchant they had encountered on so many other occasions.

“Aljandros?” asked Kham.  “You old dog, what are you doing out here?” 

“My friend, is that you?” Aljandros seemed genuinely surprised.  “It is!  And you’re alive!  That is wonderful!”

“How’s the family?” asked Vlad.

Aljandros turned serious.  “They are with me, including my daughter.” He nodded back at the Jungle Scout. “It is no longer safe in Freeport these days for an aspiring merchant like myself.”

“We heard you had plans to join the Captain’s Council.”

“I did indeed.  But then, with the dogs of war unleashed, you are either a politician or you are dead.  So we venture out here, further away from the Hinterland pirate raids. Speaking of which, wasn’t this Cho Sun’s ship?”

“It was.” That was all Beldin said. 

“What’s this about a war?” asked Ilmarė.

“During your absence, the mainland civil war has escalated considerably,” said Aljandros. “The Hinterlanders and the Entaris elorii are threatening the Captain’s Council in an attempt to force Freeport to pick a side and join the war.  The time for playing both sides and profiteering is over.”

“Great,” said Kham.  “Can’t wait to get back home.”

“But come, let us trade!  I have much you would like, yes?”

They threw planks across the two ships to allow the crew to browse Aljandros’ wares.  

Kham held up the crystal knife he found. “Ever seen this before?”

Aljandros took it from Kham.  “Hmm. Yes, it is made of onium.  It resembles iron in many ways, except that it is perfectly transparent.  It’s found only in minute deposits.  Where did you find it?”

Kham was disappointed.  He took it back.  “Never mind.  I’m guessing you have some special cargo for special people.  What have you got today?”

There was a twinkle in Aljandros’ eye.  “Oh yes, yes.  Come, come.” Vlad followed Kham below deck.

Aljandros showed them a dizzying variety of bizarre products.  There was a special wood that was as strong as metal, and another kind of wood that dissolved when it came into contact with saltwater.  There was an ample supply of Abyss Dust, a parrot that could memorize spells, and a crate of coconuts whose milk protected the drinker from the effects of heat and humidity. 

He pulled out a bag.  “But this, this is my most special item,” said Aljandros with his clipped accent.  

Aljandros pulled out a shrunken organ in a small net.  He let it dangle before Kham and Vlad for a moment.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Aljandros.  “What is it?”

“This, my friends, is none other than a cannibal heart.  The tcho-tchos trade them to me in exchange for spices and steel.”

“Tcho-tchos?” Kham frowned.  “Forget it…”

“I have offended you?  I meant no disrespect!”

Vlad smiled.  “It’s just that tcho-tchos tried to kill us recently.  Perhaps to make the cannibal hearts you’re purchasing from them.”

“Supply and demand is a cruel mistress, yes?” said Aljandros.  “I will give these to you for my special price, twenty-five hundred doubloons.”

“What a rip-off.”  Kham stomped out of the ship.

Vlad arrived a few minutes later, his purse lighter and something strange tucked into his belt pouch.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 9 – The Prisoner*

A huge force rocked the Nǎoké.  Without warning, the entire vessel shuddered violently, as if struck by a great obstacle.  

Vlad peered over the edge of the ship. “I don’t see anything.”

Whatever the ship had rammed into, it wasn’t visible.  The vessel’s bowsprit, caved into the likeness of an angel of death, had been smashed to splinters.  Judging from the cries of the sailors, it was apparent that the bow had taken damage.  Though the sails were still filled with wind, the ship had stopped dead in the water, obviously because it had run directly into something. Yet nothing appeared beyond the ship but open sea and black night sky.  

“Shh” said Ilmarė.  “I hear something.”

Shouting sailors rushed back and forth between the bow and the storage lockers, quickly mending the fractured portions of the hull. 

“I don’t hear anything either,” said Kham. “Besides the crew, that is.”

Suddenly the elorii hopped down off of the bow of the ship, disappearing from sight.

Vlad gasped. “Ilmarė?” 

“There’s someone down here!” shouted the elorii from seemingly nowhere.  The source of her voice was down below the ship’s keel.

“Magic,” said Beldin.  “An invisible island.”

Kham hopped down and, much to his surprise, found himself on terra firma.  No more than a tiny islet, the piece of rock wasn’t more than fifty feet in diameter.  A hut, made of stone, sat in the middle.  A wretch of a man was babbling excitedly at Ilmarė.

The elorii wrinkled her nose when she saw Kham approach.  “Good, you can speak to him.  He smells like fish.”

“Please!” The man nearly clutched at Ilmarė’s arm, but her icy gaze warned him off.  “Please, don’t abandon me here!”

“Easy old fella, we won’t leave you here,” Kham said reassuringly. “Calm down. What’s your name?”

“My name,” the man tried to catch his breath, “is Estaboth.”

“What are you doing on this little rock, Estaboth?”

The words came out in a torrent.  “I was a bookkeeper by trade.  I once worked for a shipping company in Freeport.  But I made a mistake.”

“I’d say this is a pretty big mistake, yeah.”

Estaboth shook his head.  “I tried to embezzle money from a company. The owner discovered my embezzling and....”

“Oooh, now I get it.  You must have been too valuable to just kill, so he punished you this way instead, huh?”

Estaboth nodded vigorously. “He posed a riddle to me, with death being the outcome if I failed to answer it correctly.  Since I gave the proper answer, he sentenced me to twenty years of gulag.”

“How did you stay alive all this time?” asked Ilmarė. 

“They left me with an enchanted decanter and several fishing nets.  But that was seven years ago, and I don’t think I can stomach any more fish and seaweed!  You’ve got to take me with you!”

Kham looked him up and down.  “Fine, fine.  You can come with us.”

They began walking back towards the Nǎoké. “I didn’t catch the name of the man who imprisoned you here.”

Estaboth was so happy that tears were streaming down his face.  “Finn.  Finn’s Syndicate.”

Kham froze in mid-climb.  Ilmarė easily passed him on the ropes, despite being pregnant.

“You can always throw him back,” she said over her shoulder.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 10 – Sole Survivor*

The lookout on the crow’s nest shouted, “Land, ho!”

Not far away lay a verdant island, lush with vegetation.  Though the island itself was rather small, no more than two miles across, it teemed with life.  Most of the island was a dense jungle, and birds flew above the treetops in great number.  

”Mariners anchor here and meet on th’ shore in informal gatherings,” said Captain Baldric.  “To exchange gossip and inexpensive trade goods.  Personally, I’ve never harbored thar.  But if ye be willing t’ take a look, we can drop anchor.”

“No,” said Ilmarė sternly.  “No more islands.  We have enough stragglers and enough grief.”

“I’ll go,” said Kham.  “I want to stretch my legs.”

“Me too,” Vlad added eagerly.

“Fine,” said Baldric.  “Ye’ve got three hours to conduct an investigation, just in case thar be something of value.”

Kham and Vlad took six crewmembers with them.  Given the extra mouths to feed, Baldric secretly hoped they would gather up more food.  The ship was getting crowded.

They rowed to the island. The white beaches bore evidence that the place had been used as a port by many vessels throughout the years: old longboats and dinghies were here and there, along with the detritus that sailors left behind after an excursion ashore.

Kham led them deeper into the jungle.  “Maybe we can find some fruit or something to eat.”

“Anything but rations!” said Vlad.  The pirates shouted in agreement.

With a roar, a horned beast crashed through the jungle, plowing into Vlad and the pirates.  Only Kham dived aside in time.

It slowed to a halt, breathing hard.  It was a triceratops and, judging from the numerous scars across its frill and head, had fought hundreds of battles for survival.  

“Whoa!” said Kham.  Vlad was down, bleeding from the ears and nose.  Kham didn’t bother to check out the other pirates.

The triceratops wheeled about.  It was massive, nearly the size of the Nǎoké.  

Without making any sudden moves, Kham drank a potion and disappeared from sight.  Then he padded over to Vlad’s unconscious body and poured a healing liquid down his throat.

Vlad blinked awake.

“Don’t move,” Kham whispered to him.  “I’m invisible.  I’m going to try to get Billy’s attention here—“

“Billy?”

“The thing that hit you like a ton of bricks. I’m going to try to get its attention by making some noise.  When you hear the signal, run as fast as you can for the boat.  Okay?”

Vlad groaned.  The potion had only managed to wake him.  He was still hurt.  

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Kham padded away onto the beach.  Vlad could make out his footsteps in the sand.

“Hey!” shouted Kham.  “Hey Billy!”  

The triceratops that Kham named Billy scanned the horizon. It turned to face the source of the noise. Then two pistol shots ricocheted off its head.

That got Billy’s attention. Kham was visible. Seeing a new threat, the beast roared and charged forward.

“Now Vlad!” shouted Kham.

Vlad jumped to his feet.  Shooting pain lanced through his limbs, but he had no choice.  He fought through the agony, limping as quickly as he could to the longboat.

Billy barreled down on Kham.  He crouched.

Just as Billy lowered its head to gore him with its three horns, Kham jumped into the air.  He landed lightly on the crest of its nose and then somersaulted onto its back.  The triceratops skidded to a halt, confused.

Vlad kept on limping towards the boat.  He was only a hundred yards away.

Billy saw him.  With a roar, the triceratops kicked into a gallop.

Kham yanked off his cloak and threw it over the triceratops’ horns.  The beast roared and pulled off to the right.

Kham launched himself off the beast and dove into the surf, swimming towards the longboat.  By the time Billy shook the cloak from his eyes, Kham and Vlad were long gone.

With a mournful bellow, the sole survivor of the island returned to grazing.

“What was that?” asked Ilmarė.

“Nothing,” said Kham.  “We were just saying hello to Billy.”

Vlad winced.  “More like he was saying hello to us.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes.  “Stupid humans. When will you learn?”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 11 – Heartbreak*

Vlad looked glum.  It was his turn to be lookout along with Brother Egil.

“You are troubled?” asked Egil.

“How can you tell?”

Egil smiled. “I know the heartbreak of romance.  What happened?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem!”  Vlad rubbed his forehead.  “I was late for one of our walks on the ship.  I was still recovering from my injuries from that…thing Kham called Billy, on the island.  I overslept.”

“So now Patricia’s angry with you?”

“Angry isn’t the word.  She’s been staying in her cabin almost all the time.  According to Yolanda, she’s suffering from seasickness.  But I know that’s not true.”

Egil nodded sagely.  “In my experience, one cannot rush such relationships.”

“You’ve had relationships?” Vlad stuttered.  “With women, I mean?”

Egil chuckled.  “No, but I have counseled many couples.  My relationship is with Althares.”

Vlad coughed. 

“That sounds stranger than it is,” Egil went on quickly.  “My faith has sustained me through thick and thin.  Through the death of my friend Lucius to the loss of my pinky to Finn,” he waved the stub of his pinky, “to here. I had gathered Tranco and Yolanda to try to stop Livius, but it turned out that Althares guided you on the path.  And now he placed me here to heal your wounds.”

“What does this have to do with me and Patricia?” asked Vlad.

“Faith.  You’ll have to have faith that she will come back to you, if it is meant to be,” said Egil.  “Romance is a fickle thing, and especially in these cramped quarters, you are perhaps spending too much time together.  Give her some room.  She’ll come around.”

Vlad sighed.  “Maybe you’re right.  Thanks for listening.”

Egil inclined his head towards Vlad. “It’s part of the job, being a Brother for Althares. I’m glad I could be of service.”

Vlad nodded. “When she gets her footing in Freeport, I’m sure things will be better.”

“I certainly hope so.”  Egil looked wistful.  “I haven’t seen Freeport in months.  I hope the Temple of Althares is still standing!”

They both chuckled at that, although Egil didn’t laugh nearly as hard as Vlad did.


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 12 – The Swimming Dead*

It was Beldin’s turn at watch.  The night was tranquil, the sea calm.  Nothing, surely, would disrupt the Nǎoké’s journey now.

“You don’t have to stand watch with me, Egil,” the dwarf said gruffly.  “I know your weak constitution isn’t accustomed to standing watch at these hours.”

After the attack by the Fang, Baldric had buddied up the lookouts with men and women he could trust.  None of the pirates were among them.

Egil chuckled.  “Thank you for your concern, Master Dwarf.  But I wish to pull my own weight around here.  I’m sure I can serve some good.”

Beldin shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”

Despite all the turmoil, Baldric was happy with the outcome.  Taking on two different pirate crews, despite the casualties, had bloated their numbers.  Kham, Beldin, and Ilmarė were three more people the ship couldn’t afford in provisions and space, given that the Yolanda, Patricia, Francesca, Egil, and Tranco were on board too.  

When he asked Baldric about it, the captain merely winked at him with his good eye.  “I’m sure we’ll all fit just fine by th’ time we reach Freeport.”

Beldin’s reverie was interrupted by a gasp from Brother Egil. 

“Egil? What’s wrong?”

The priest clutched at his throat.  All he got out was, “Gluccck!”

“What is it?” Beldin’s axe and shield were out in a flash. 

Egil fell to the ground.  He vomited up seawater, as if he were drowning even though he was safe and dry on the Nǎoké’s deck.

A litany of gasps and groans reached Beldin’s ears.  He whirled to watch sailors falling left and right, collapsing as something wet and rancid flopped its way onto the deck.

“Illiir!” whispered Beldin.  

It was a corpse, bloated with seawater.  The night air shimmered around it, and wherever the strange bubble enveloped a man he fell to the ground, struggling for breath.

Beldin took a deep breath just before the edge of the bubble enveloped him.

He swung his axe, but the thing bashed him aside with one pulpy limb.  Windcutter skittered out of his grasp.

The undead monstrosity let out a mournful groan and, glaring with unblinking white eyes, it lurched towards the dwarf.

Beldin scrabbled backwards.  The thing wheezed and latched both hands around the dwarf’s throat.  

The world went gray.  As a dwarf, Beldin had amazing lung capacity.  But even he could not hold his breath forever. 

He remembered Cho Sun’s ring.  Beldin pressed his hand against the corpse’s flesh and his open palm sunk right through the fibrous mass that was its ribcage.  

Beldin closed his eyes and concentrated. There was a loud splash as all the seawater blasted out of thing’s back in a great geyser of seaweed and rotten flesh.  The desiccated corpse staggered backwards.

The crew immediately stopped drowning.  Egil rose to his feet.

“In the name of Althares, I adjure you to return to your grave!”

He held up his holy symbol, a small hammer.  Light flared from it.  The thing covered its eyes, wailing, before hurtling itself off the ship.

Beldin nodded his approval.  Egil smiled weakly.  He finally did have a use.

“That’s it,” said Beldin.  “I’m becoming a pirate.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Part 13 – Desperation Island*

Before the Nǎoké lay an idyllic scene: smooth beaches of fine, white sand, tall palms swaying in the breeze, the clear blue, placid seas rolling to the inviting shores.  The gentle sloping landscape promised hidden grottoes with bubbling springs and tropical fruits falling from the trees.  

“We’re anchoring here for some shore leave!” shouted Baldric.

The crowd gave a wild cheer.  It had been twenty days since they left Nyambe.  

Ilmarė sat with crossed arms on deck.  With the advent of her pregnancy it had become difficult for her to stand for long periods of time. “This is a mistake.  The island is too perfect.”

“It’s all we’ve got,” said Kham.  “Besides, live a little!  The weather is perfect!”

Most of the crew took rowboats out to the island.  When they arrived, they discovered the island WAS perfect.  

Bananas, mangoes, and papayas grew in abundance. Along the hillside were a number of different shallow caves.

“I’ll take a look around,” said Beldin. The dwarf led a team of men into the caves.

Each of the caves was no more than a slight depression, affording any occupants scant but adequate protection from any squall in the area.   Only one, some thirty feet in diameter, could be properly called a cavern.  

“There are markings here.  Bring the torch over.” While Beldin could see in the dark, he couldn’t make out the markings on the wall.  A sailor held a torch aloft.  

Along the walls of the cave were various tribal markings, hieroglyphs of a long lost native population.  It didn’t require any skill to read the tale, however.  It proceeded from a quiet, peaceful existence, to tragedy and sorrow, resulting in the eventual death of the entire tribe.

Beldin hustled out of the cave to find the others. They were at the highest point of the island.

“I think we should leave,” he said gruffly.

“Why?  This place is great!” said Vlad.

Towering palms surrounded them, with a gnarly, withered tree in the center.  

“You don’t find anything wrong with that tree?” asked Beldin.

Kham peered at the tree.  “Huh.  Didn’t even notice it before.”

“Didn’t notice it?  It’s over twenty feet tall!”

“Maybe you’re right…” said Vlad.  “Hey, there are ropes hanging from that tree.”

Kham took a step closer.  Two rotting bodies swung from the tree’s limbs. “Mutineers, probably.”

“Or suicides. We should leave,” Beldin reiterated.  “Now.”

The dwarf turned to go, but Vlad and Kham stared slack-jawed at the tree.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…I want to leave,” Kham said distantly.  “But my body…is not going…”

“It’s calling to us.” Vlad was completely focused on the tree. “Can’t you hear it?” 

The rustling of the trees transformed into a strange hushed whispering, just beyond the range of normal hearing.

Suddenly, the sailors around them shrieked, clutching their heads.  They collapsed one by one.  

Kham and Vlad stood, swaying, barely able to keep themselves upright.  Then the tree moved.

One of the braches swatted at them as if they were gnats.  Beldin took the brunt of the blow with his shield.  

“Run!” he shouted over his shoulder.

But Vlad and Kham had collapsed.

The dwarf grabbed his companions by their collars and dragged them down the hill, even as the creaking, groaning tree stumped after them.

“Cover your ears!” shouted Beldin as he splashed towards the longboat.  “Stay on the ship!”

But the men who were supposed to stay with the boat were already swimming for shore.  In the distance, Beldin could see more men diving off the deck to pursue the infernal allure of the tree.

Suddenly, a clear note rang out.  Ilmarė and Yolanda were singing, their clear notes slicing through the chaos.  The men paused, temporarily regaining their senses.

“That song won’t last forever!” shouted Beldin.  “Come on!” 

A few men struggled back to the boat.  But there were many who vanished into the tree line and never returned.

Baldric greeted the dwarf’s return with a grin.  “Well, now thar be enough food an’ booty tah go around!”

Beldin glared at him.  “You knew about that place?”

“Desperation Island?  Nay, I would never put me men in danger.  I thought it be just a myth! But Yarris has a way of weedin’ out the weak ones.  And a few more Khitani sailors means less shares I have to give out when we reach Freeport.”

Beldin shook his head.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I don’t want to be a pirate.  I want to be a sailor.”


----------



## talien

*Naoke: Conclusion*

Slipping past the lighthouse known as Milton’s Folly, the Nǎoké made its way into Freeport in the twilight.  As she came slowly into dock, everyone line up on the deck rails cheering and waving and flags flying.  Word of Baldric’s return had made him a hero, and his defeat of Cho Sun only cemented his reputation as a formidable candidate for the Sea Lord’s Council.

Passengers and their possessions went ashore in a scene of great noise and confusion.  The milling port officials, crew, porters, hawkers, and would-be guides only added to the chaos. Clem, Tranco, and Estaboth slipped out into the crowd.  

“I’ll take you to the Marquis Moon.” Yolanda was about to don one of her familiar masks. “You’ll be safe there.”

“We won’t if you advertise who you are.  Keep the mask off for now. We’ll have to lay low,” said Kham.  “Last time we were here, we pissed off the daughter of a certain powerful newspaper editor. And I’m supposedly dead in a botched rescue operation.”

Yolanda turned and screamed shrilly. “Patricia!”

Patricia had gone into the harbor.  Vlad ran over to the edge of the dock.  Patricia’s broad hat was on the quay and there were ripples on the water. The Milandisian dove in.

“She missed her step,” Francesca said, rocking herself.  “She missed her step.  She missed her step.”

“She jumped,” said Ilmarė.  “Stupid humans.”

A man with a pad and paper was waiting for Vlad as he brought Patricia back to the dock.  “Freeport News: can I have a word with you?”

“Damn it!” muttered Kham.  “Ilmarė, do something before we end up on the front page!”

Vlad laid Patricia gently on the deck. 

Egil bent over her, listening to her chest.  He whispered a few words and she choked up saltwater with a gasp. “She’ll live, but I should take her to the Temple of Althares.”

“Francesca,” ordered Yolanda, “Go with her.”

Francesca nodded tearfully and the three were whisked away by a rickshaw that Egil hailed.

The reporter turned to Yolanda.  “Is she one of your girls?”

Yolanda was about to say something when Ilmarė interrupted.  

“_O môr henion i dhû._”  The elorii sang of understanding darkness through the night.

The reporter blinked.  “That sound!  That’s amazing!”

“_Ely siriar, êl síla._” She sang of dreams flowing and stars shining.

The reporter, entranced, walked over to Ilmarė.  She sang, arms outstretched.

”_Ai! Aníron Freeport!_” she sang.

“You’re singing of Freeport?  So you think Freeport should side with the Entaris elves against the Hinterland barbarians?”

Ilmarė tossed her hair and smiled at the reporter.  “I think that’s a much more interesting story for your article, don’t you?”

The reporter nodded, dumbstruck.

The elorii traced one finger along the man’s cheek and then tapped him on the forehead.  “Good.  Keep that in mind.”  She sauntered away.

Kham ducked back down an alley with Yolanda.  Beldin and Vlad joined them.  

Ilmarė walked through the crowd, and as she stepped men made way for her, staring at her with nothing short of love struck devotion.

“It’s a good thing your elf friend isn’t fond of human men,” Yolanda said with a hint of envy in her voice.  “You’d never stand a chance.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 55: Shadows in Freeport - Introduction*

This scenario is adapted from a Goodman Games adventure, “Shadows in Freeport” by Robert J. Schwalb, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (Jeremy Robert Ortiz) 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I knew that one of the PCs would have to sacrifice themselves to save Arcanis, so I had a contingency plan all along to rescue whoever that was. Since that was Sebastian, arguably the most destructive character in the group, it meant that any adventure involving undead was going to be that much harder.

However, the last time our heroes faced off against ghosts, way back in Madness in Freeport, they were unprepared.  Since then, both Kham and Vlad acquired ghost touch weapons.  And both of them have bane weapons against Carcosan beings, which is precisely what they were up against.  I changed many of the infernal references to Carcosan references instead, and just about everything that wasn’t undead has the Farspawn template.

That said, one big difference in how the heroes approached this adventure is that they had a mission.  In the original version of this adventure, the goal is to find the children lost in the house, which means tearing the place apart.  Instead, I changed the party’s goal: find the portal to Carcosa.  They know it’s in the basement. And if you think about it, aren’t all portals to horrible places in the basement?

This means the adventure goes very quickly.  Our heroes are in no mood to explore; they want to find the portal and get the hell out of there.  So they skipped a whole section of the module with almost no prodding from me.  Indeed, they made a beeline straight for the portal without knowing where it was!

What was supposed to be a creepy haunted house ended up being more like a raid on a drug den.  But the adventure bridged the gap to Carcosa, and in that regard it was definitely a success.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Prologue*

It was an ugly day.  The sun hadn’t shown its face at all, seemingly content to hide behind the swollen blanket of clouds that covered Freeport.  Worse, the rain was nothing more than a drizzle, enough to awaken old stenches and stains, but not enough to wash the filth from the sewers.

“So this is Cresh Manor,” said Vlad.

Kham, Beldin, and Vlad stood inside the entrance to a veritable wilderness of overgrowth.  The street behind them was just visible through the opening in the wall that now only sported one rusted gate hanging from a single bent hinge.  The other half lay on the ground, burying who-knows-what beneath its heavy bulk.

“Yolanda said the portal is in the basement, so that’s where we’re going.”

As they looked around, the autumn wind blew through skeletal trees, sending their gaunt limbs rattling and clattering.  The life inside them had long since flown, as did the birds and squirrels that once nested in their boughs.  A narrow path wound through the tall grasses, stained in places by old blood, a few fluttering carcasses of rotting birds, and tatters of yellow cloth.

“The portal’s been compromised,” said Kham. 

“How can you be sure?” asked Vlad.

“Trust me, I just know. I’m the Key to Carcosa, remember?”

“Ilmarė’s not coming?” asked Beldin.

Vlad shook his head.  “She said she has unfinished business to attend to. “

Kham smirked.  “I think I know what kind of business and with whom.  I’ll be surprised if Letah Calame is still alive by the time we get back.”

The house shadowed everything.  Two stories and huge, its boarded windows stared down on them like some great multifaceted eyes, opened wide and searching for something to eat. A pair of wooden doors stood before them. They were protected from the elements by the roofed porch, held up by bowed and split columns. Broken glass lay everywhere.

“Well, let’s get on with it.” Beldin stumped forward. “Sebastian’s not going to rescue himself.”

As the wind stirred once more, there was the distant sound of laughter…children’s laughter.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 1 – Great Room*

The main floor of the Cresh House was in a deplorable state.  The walls, once covered in paper, were torn and peeling.  Water had stained, cupped, and warped the wooden floors, a testimony to the leaks from the floor above.  

They were in a massive room with a polished marble floor that still shined even with all the grime and debris littering it.  Two large fireplaces, each big enough for a grown man to stand inside, flanked the sides of the room.  Instead of the expected curios and portraits that normally adorned such mantles, there were rats’ nests, chunks of fallen plaster, and filth.  Across the room were several windows, though wooden planking concealed whatever lay beyond.

“Tell me something,” said Vlad.  “You’ve been seeing this Countess woman for years…and you never suspected she was from Carcosa?”

Kham shrugged.  “How should I know?  She’s a madam.  She always wore a mask.”

“And you didn’t find that strange,” Beldin stated matter-of-factly.

“No.” Kham peered into one of the fireplaces. “In fact, that’s what I was paying for.”

“You PAID her?” asked Vlad.

“I told you she was a madam.”  Kham sighed, exasperated.  “Look.  When you’ve been around as many women as I have, sometimes you need something new. There was a time in my life when the Countess provided that, back in the days when I was a pirate…or pretending to be one anyway.”

Vlad cocked his head. “Can you…can you hear that?” 

“Be ready,” said Beldin.  “That’s how it always starts…”

A cacophony of babbling assaulted them as a wailing entity, shrouded in black, slipped upwards from the floor. It loomed over them, a fearsome apparition, screeching and whispering and wailing all at once.

Vlad held his ears, struggling to concentrate.  It lunged towards him.

“Oh no you don’t!” shouted Beldin.  He had encountered an abomination like it once before.  But this time he had Windcutter.

His blade slashed through the translucent form and connected, tearing away a wisp of darkness.  The thing shrieked louder and turned to Beldin.

Kham’s scimitar, Talon, suddenly protruded through the thing’s torso.  It stopped shrieking and looked down.

Then with a tiny wail, it faded away.

Vlad shook off the effect.  “Sorry about that.”

“Forget about it,” said Kham.  “Let’s keep moving.  Sebastian’s got to be around here somewhere.”

Like a man possessed, he fearlessly plunged into the darkness of the next room.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance: Part 2 – Game Room*

A couple of billiard tables stood in the room, along with a few empty racks for cues.  A fireplace filled with trash and bones stood on one wall.

“What the hell is that?” asked Vlad.

Dominating the center of the room were two blobs of quivering flesh, each stained with dark streaks.  The flesh shuddered and released a spray of disgusting liquid.  

“Pwalgs,” Kham said with a frown.  “Sentient tumors torn from the Unspeakable One’s flesh.  Look out!”

He dove to the side as a stream of acid spewed forth, melting one of the billiard tables in half.

Vlad drew the light gladius he had retrieved from Bijoux’s homeworld.  “This should help.” 

He plunged the blade into the center of the pwalg.  It hissed and popped and then exploded, spewing acid over Vlad.  The Milandisian screamed and fell to the ground.

Its companion, mouths sucking hungrily, slurped forward.  Beldin slapped it backwards with the flat of his axe blade. 

“Kham?”

“On it!”  Kham fired two pistols.  Acid spurted upwards as each bullet penetrated.  

Then he fired again.  And again.  Finally, only a smoking husk was left. 

Beldin administered a healing potion to Vlad. 

“Are you all right?”

The warrior struggled to his feet.  “Thanks.  I’ll be fine.  I didn’t expect that.”

“None of us did,” said Kham. “We’ll have to be careful. We’re going into the heart of Carcosa.  Who knows what we’ll find.”

“Let’s just hope no more of those things,” Vlad said with a shudder.


----------



## talien

*Vengeance: Part 3 – Conservatory*

What was once a garden was now nothing more than a collection of dead plants, old pots, and dust.  A fountain depicting a face twisted in pain spilled brown fluid out of its mouth to dribble into the large basin beneath.  Strangely, not all the plants in the room were dead, for a great heap of organic plant matter sat in the room’s center.

“Who is this Stefan person you mentioned anyway?” asked Beldin inspected the fountain.

“I don’t know,” said Kham.  “It was a vision.  And I was inside Sebastian’s head, which is a pretty scary place.”

“I bet,” said Vlad.  

“And what name did the Countess use?”

“D’Amberville.  Or, as she put it, D’Ambrose in ‘Hasturic,’ the Carcosan tongue.”

“Carcosan, probably,” said Vlad.

“That’s right! Stefan Ambrose…Ilmarė, Calactyte and I caught up with this strange character.  He was looking for an invitation to a party in Carcosa.”

Beldin peered at the plant. “Guess he finally made it.”

“Don’t go near the plant,” said Kham.  “It’s a trap.”

Beldin paused.  “There’s a fine-looking mace buried beneath it.  Let me just take a look…”

“Damn it Beldin!” shouted Kham.  But it was too late.

Beldin got a hold of the mace just as a rotten branch slapped outwards to encircle the dwarf’s wrist.  

A brief tug of war ensued as the dwarf, determined the retrieve his find, refused to release the mace.  The pile of vegetation lurched and suddenly Beldin disappeared.

 “Great.” Kham had his blades out. “Now what?”

Vlad blocked another whipping tendril with his shield.  “Just don’t use any lightning on the thing…they love lightning.”

Kham hacked steadily at the vines and creepers that shot out from the rotting pile of vegetation, but for every tendril he cut down, two more took its place.

There was a terrific ripping noise, and then Beldin hacked his way free, axe in one hand, mace in the other.

“I hope that mace was worth it,” muttered Vlad.

“It’s cold iron.  That’s pretty rare,” Beldin said appreciatively.  He was soaked in the green and brown digestive juices of the bizarre plant.

“Yeah,” said Kham.  “Real useful against a pile of weeds.  Let’s go.”


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 4 – Pantry*

A dozen white dust-covered children faced them.  They had wicked curved knives in hand.  Beyond them was a stairwell.

“Now we know the source of the laughter,” said Vlad.

“That’s our exit,” said Kham.  “But we’re going to have to fight through them.”

The translucent children advanced.

Vlad switched to Vrosh’s spear.  The tip crackled with electrical energy.  “Here’s hoping I remembered the old snake’s tactics.”  He spun the spear experimentally in one hand.

“Yeah, great.”  Beldin sliced through one of the children with no effect at all.  It laughed at him. “Just make sure it connects.”

Another child jumped into the air, lunging towards Vlad’s throat.  He leaned backwards and it skewered itself on the spear.  With an ear-piercing shriek, it disappeared in a flash of lightning.

“It works,” said Vlad grimly.  

Kham was busy fending off cuts from all directions.  His jacket showed several gashes where the ghostly children had hit home.

Vlad spun again, skewering one of the ghost children behind him.  He brought the spear about and whipped it through one of the little beasts, passing the haft of Vrosh’s spear through the translucent child’s torso only to obliterate its companion behind it.  

Finally, they were gone.  

“Whatever happened in this house since Yolanda was here, it’s bad news,” said Kham.  “Very bad news.”

“The Unspeakable One isn’t bad enough?” asked Vlad.  But Kham was already down the steps.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 5 – Storeroom*

The steps descended into a small cellar.  Racks, shelves, old crates, boxes, and barrels filled the room.  A puddle of water glistened briefly with blue light and then faded.  Emerging from the shadows was a naked young man, fear painting his features.

“Emric?” Kham asked in disbelief.

Emric began sobbing.  “You’ve got to take me with you!”

“Careful,” said Beldin impassively.  “It could be a trap.”

“I’ll take him outside to the Sea Lord’s Guard,” said Vlad.  “He’ll be safer there.”

“No!” shouted Emric.  He was shivering.  “I’m safer here with you!”

Kham took off his jacket and put it around the boy’s shoulders.  “What happened?”

“Quelch.  Elijah Quelch.”

“We killed him,” Vlad said resolutely.  “We saw him fall into the canal.”

Emric just stared at Vlad.  “It wasn’t enough.”

“What did he want with you?” asked Beldin.

“He’s kidnapping children…creating a portal to the Unspeakable One’s world.  He plans to gate in hundreds of k’n-yan and plunge Freeport into Carcosa, as Lucius Roby did.”

Kham looked sideways at Emric.  “How did you know that?”

Emric lifted his chin, defiant.  “I’m supposed to be Sea Lord one day myself, remember?  Uncle Thralen keeps both ears to the ground.”

“Arrogant, confident, and not wearing a lick of clothing…” Kham shrugged. “You must be Emric.”

“I don’t like this.” Beldin tightened his grip on his axe.  “It’s too convenient.”

Emric pushed on one wall and a secret door spun on a central axis.  “I can lead you to Quelch! We’ve got to stop him!”

Kham and Vlad followed after Emric.  

Beldin bit his lip.  After a moment, he followed.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 6 – Summoning Room*

Four braziers that flickered with blue flames lit the profane room.  On each wall was a large tapestry. The most startling thing in the room was a huge yellow sign chiseled into the stone itself.  The channel was stained brown from old blood.  

“Great,” said Beldin.  “A summoning room.”

One tapestry depicted a foul infant clawing its way out of the belly of some grotesque being.  Another showed naked but masked cultists tearing out the throats of their bound male prisoners.  The last tapestry depicted a flaming ring surrounded by strange glyphs and sigils.  

“Through here!” Emric ran through the tapestry on the far wall, crossing the symbol on the floor.

“No, wait…” was all Kham got out.

A titanic beast appeared in a flash.  It was encased in a skeletal structure, perhaps dead, perhaps merely too foreign for normal minds to understand.  Its had dragon-like proportions, with two clawed hind limbs, a spiked tail, skeletal wings for arms, and a hollow ribcage topped by a horned head.  Atop its back was a k’n-yan.

“You take out the mount,” said Kham.  “I’ve got the rider.”

The beast hissed and its head darted forward, only to be slapped down by Vlad’s sword.  Beldin struck its hind leg, and it reared backwards, flapping its wings.

Kham drew his two pistols and fired.  The k’n-yan’s head snapped backwards, but it was encased in a strange exoskeleton that protected it from harm. 

Vlad kept the mount’s head busy, blocking its strikes with his shield and returning the favor each time it came close.  Beldin circled around…

Suddenly the tail whipped downwards, the spike at the end embedding deeply into Beldin’s shoulder.  He roared and hacked downwards, snapping the end of the tail off.  

“Poison a dwarf, will you?” snarled Beldin.  

Vlad pressed the advantage as the serpent-like thing howled.  Whatever it was, it could feel pain.  He cut one of its legs out from under it and the creature stumbled. 

The k’n-yan pointed at Vlad and lightning arced between its fingertip and the Milandisian.  He was thrown backwards from the blast. 

Then the Beldin fell upon the mount in fury.  Kham dispatched the rider with a double strike from Talon and Coomb’s dagger.

Emric peeked his head back into the room.  “What’s taking you guys so long?”


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 7 – Puzzle Portal*

They reached a pentagonal room.  The walls, ceiling, and floor were uniform black stone.  In the center of each wall was a red door, although they had no handles, keyholes, or any obvious means of opening them. In the middle of the room stood a pedestal, capped with a metal plate bearing five studs.

“This is the device Yolanda created to enter the portal,” said Kham.  “See each of these studs?  They’re dials.  There are twenty-six letters in the Hasturic alphabet.  She used them to spell out key words.  The right combination of key words opens the portal.  You have to turn each of the dials, and the last dial you turn, if it’s in the correct sequence, opens the portal.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “I’m ready.”

Kham shook his head.  “Not so simple.  You have to do it one at a time.  It won’t let more than one person teleport in; a safeguard of Yolanda’s.”

“Fat lot of good it did,” muttered Beldin.  The dwarf had recovered from the poison with just a few minutes of rest.  His companions were continually amazed by his constitution. “If Quelch is corrupting it now, it wasn’t too hard to guess.”

“No, it’s not,” Kham said grimly. “We just have to spell: enter."

“What if we turn the dial to the wrong numbers?” asked Vlad.

“You don’t want to know.”

Beldin stepped up to the pedestal. “I’ll go first. What do we have to turn the numbers to?”

“Five, fourteen, twenty, five, and eighteen,” said Kham. 

Beldin clicked each dial over.  When he finished the last one, Beldin disappeared.

“Quickly now.” Kham hurried Vlad, who carefully turned the dials.  He flashed and disappeared.

“Okay, Emric, you go next.” Kham turned all the dials but one. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

Emric smiled a wicked smile. Suddenly, Kham realized what an idiotic idea it was to bring him along in the first place, as if a veil had been lifted from his mind. Emric’s form shimmered, replaced by the exoskeleton form of a k’n-yan.

The k’n-yan reached out to turn the last dial to the wrong number. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” it said.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Part 8 – The Vile Gate*

Vlad appeared within a hermetic circle inside a large cave, polluted by the stench of death.  Ahead was a dark figure clad in whipping yellow robes, outlined by the light of a white disk of pulsing energy projected by a small metal box on the floor.  Inside the field was a k’n-yan army, all fighting to break through.  Dozens of bodies lay all around, blood still pumping form their slashed throats.  They were grievously wounded, but a few groans suggested they were not all dead.

Beldin was already advancing. Two byakhee barred his path.

“Quelch!” snarled Vlad.  “It’s over!”

Elijah Quelch was a big, fat man with long black hair and a full beard.  His age was difficult to guess.

“I don’t think so,” snarled Quelch.  He pointed at Vlad, muttering something in Hasturic.  Vlad’s legs went rigid.  It was the same spell that had paralyzed him last time.

“Try that on me!” bellowed Beldin.  He batted aside one of the byakhee, accustomed to fighting them.  The creature leap frogged over him so that the dwarf was besieged by the creatures from both sides.

“As for you…” Quelch pointed at Beldin and a sizzling ray of black energy sliced into him.  The dwarf writhed in pain.

One of the byakhee landed on top of Beldin, pinning him to the ground. 

“No!”  Vlad struggled against the magic that held him.  “I won’t…let you!” He drew his crossbow and fired.

The bolt bounced off of Quelch’s chest.  He grinned.  “There’s no canal to save you this time.”

One of the byakhee screeched in agony as Beldin hacked off its wing.  It rolled off of the dwarf warrior, who struggled to his feet.

Through sheer force of will alone, Vlad willed his feet to move.  He took one slow, shuddering step towards Quelch.

Beldin brought his axe down on the second byakhee’s neck, beheading it.  He turned to face Quelch…

Only to be hoisted into the area by a forest of writhing yellow tentacles.  

Vlad cursed. It was happening again, just like last time.  Where was Kham?  

He took another step.  Quelch was ignoring him.

The cultist chanted something blasphemous and Beldin, helpless in the tentacles, went rigid.  As he started the spell, the air seemed to come alive.  The chant was a shrill, inhuman scream and came from all around. 

Vlad had seen the spell before.  It would drain the energy right out of the dwarf, turning him into a withered husk that would crumble into powder.  Quelch used the spell to feast on vagrants in Freeport.  It was only due to Beldin’s incredible durability that he survived at all.

Quelch seemed to grow stronger and stronger as each second passed.  And as each second passed, Vlad took one more step.

“Why won’t you die?” shouted Quelch in frustration at Beldin.  The dwarf’s eyes and mouth trailed smoke, but still he writhed in pain in the tentacles.

“You first!” shouted Vlad.  He thrust Grungronazharr through Quelch’s ribcage.  

The spell ended with a choked gurgle.  The tentacles receded.  Beldin fell to the ground.

Quelch turned to face his assailant.  His mouth opened and closed wordlessly.  Then he collapsed, dead.


----------



## talien

*Shadows: Conclusion*

A second later, Kham appeared.  His hair was mussed and his armor scorched.

“What happened to you?” asked Vlad.  

“Emric wasn’t Emric.  Let’s just leave it at that.  You?”

“Quelch is dead.” Vlad checked Beldin’s wounds.  He would live.  “Beldin is barely alive.”  He nodded at the other sacrifices.  “And they’re all dead.”

The portal continued to pulse behind them.

“So do we just jump in it?”

Kham shook his head.  “I’m the key, remember?  I’m the only one who can reverse it.”

Vlad helped Beldin to his feet.  Kham walked past them to the portal.

Kham took out Coomb’s knife and, palm up, slashed his open hand.  He dripped the blood in a rough pattern of the Yellow Sign. 

The gate was activated. A high keening came through the portal, loud and constant, and as it sounded the white light became blue.  

“Now we can enter Carcosa.” He turned back to look at his companions.  “If you don’t want to do this, I understand.  I don’t know if Sebastian’s even alive.  Or what Carcosa looks like once we’re through.”

Beldin winced.  The healing potions could only do so much.  “I haven’t come this far only to stop now,” he said.

“Me neither,” said Vlad.  “Sebastian sacrificed himself to save us.  We owe him one.”

Kham nodded.  “This time, I’m going through FIRST.”  And with that he jumped through the portal.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 56: Castle Ambrose - Introduction*

This scenario is adapted from Dungeon Module X2, “Castle Amber” by Tom Moldavy. It was adapted for 3.0 rules by Ronald G. Hopkins. I in turn updated it to 3.5 (and tweaked it considerably) for the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

When I realized that one of the PCs would have to sacrifice himself at the end of Tatters of the King, I knew there had to be a way to get him back.  The problem is that Carcosa is such a screwy place, few adventures could do it justice.  So I searched and searched, and I kept coming back to an adventure that had a direct connection to the Cthulhu Mythos: Castle Amber.

Castle Amber has it all.  A horrible tragedy happens in the throne room, trapping everyone in the castle and making them insane? Check.  An opportunity to set things right through heroic quests in a strange land?  Check.  Lots of bizarre monsters, ridiculous traps, and magic items that you’d only find in an old school adventure?  Check.

Because Moldavy got permission to add in snippets of Clark Ashton Smith’s stories, there are Cthulhu-esque elements throughout the adventure, scenes I completely missed when I DMed this adventure over twenty years ago. With Sebastian wearing the Pallid Mask and by switching Averogine to Carcosa, I now had my Stranger in a Strange Land.

This adventure is mostly a long slog of relentless battles.  I got to play with miniatures and monsters I never normally would use because they simply don’t make sense in most adventures.  But here, in Carcosa, everything makes sense and nothing does.  

Much to my dismay, I discovered that the original author, Tom Moldavy, passed away the same month we played this adventure. So this story can be seen as our tribute to his work.  Tom drew on many sources for this adventure, and I return to those roots in this story hour.  You will see references to the fairy tale of the Billy Goat’s Gruff, the poem of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and the works of Clark Ashton Smith: The Colossus of Ylourgne, The Enchantress of Sylaire, The Beast of Averoigne, and the Holiness of Azedarac. The flashbacks of the play combine Thom Ryng’s King in Yellow with James Blish’s version.

In the end, everything that was done is undone, and a major chapter of the dreaded play comes to a close.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Prologue*

Sebastian was in a crowded ballroom, with a balcony at its back. All the Hasturites were present; they all wore white masks with the visage of the Stranger, to which individual taste added grotesque variations. The result was that each mask looked like a famous person. The costumes were also various and fantastic. Sebastian still wore the silken robe with the Yellow Sign, and Cassilda, though masked, still wore the diadem, as did the child prince. Many were dancing to a formal measure, something like a sarabande, something like stalking.

Cassilda watched the masque from the balcony, Carcosa and the Hyades behind her. The moon had vanished.

“There, Princess,” said Sebastian. “You see that there has been no sending, and there will be none. The Pallid Mask is the perfect disguise.”

“How would we know a sending if it came?” asked Camilla in her singsong voice.

Cassilda descended from the balcony and joined them. 

“The messenger of the King drives a hearse,” replied Sebastian.

“Oho,” interrupted Cassilda. “Half the population of Hastur does that. It is the city’s most popular occupation, since the siege began. All that is talk.”

“I have heard what the Talkers were talking—the talk of the beginning and the end,” said Sebastian. “But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.”

“But—the sending?” asked Camilla. “Let us hear.”

“Also, the messenger of the King is a soft man,” said Sebastian. “Should you greet him by the hand, one of his fingers would come off to join yours.”

Camilla recoiled in delicate disgust. Noatalba, who had been circling closer and closer to the group, finally joined it.

“A pretty story,” said Naotalba. “You seem to know everything. I think perhaps you could even tell us, given gold, the mystery of the Hyades.”

“He is King there,” replied Sebastian.

“As everywhere,” said Naotalba curtly. “Everyone knows that.”

“He is not King in Arcanis,” said Sebastian. “That is why Carcosa was built. It is a city in exile. These two mighty stars are deep in war, like Hastur and Alar.”

“Oh, indeed. Who then lives in Carcosa?”

“Nothing human,” said Sebastian. “More than that, I cannot tell you.”

“Your springs of invention run dry with suspicious quickness,” said Naotalba.

“Be silent!” snapped Cassilda. “Stranger, how did you come by all this?”

“My sigil is Aldebaran,” said Sebastian. “I hate the King.”

“And his is the Yellow Sign,” said Naotalba, “which you mock him by flaunting before the world. I tell you this: he will not be mocked. He is a King whom Emperors have served; and that is why he scorns a crown. All this is in the runes.”

“There are great truths in the runes,” replied Sebastian. “Nevertheless, my priest, Aldebaran is his evil star. Thence comes the Pallid Mask.”

“Belike, belike. But I would rather be deep in the cloudy depths of the Dehme than to wear what you wear on your bosom. When the King opens his mantle—“
Somewhere in the palace, a deep-toned gong began to strike.

“Now is the time I never thought to see,” said Cassilda to herself. “I must go, and announce the Succession of Aldones once more to the throne. Perhaps … perhaps the world itself is indeed about to begin again. How strange!”

As the gong continued to strike, everyone began to unmask. There were murmurs and gestures of surprise, real or polite, as identities were recognized and revealed. Then there was a wave of laughter. The music became louder and increased in tempo.

“You, sir, should unmask,” said Camilla.

“Indeed?” asked Sebastian.

“Indeed, it’s time,” said Camilla. “We have all laid aside disguise but you.”

“I wear no mask,” said Sebastian.

“No mask?” asked Camilla. Panic was in her voice. She turned to Cassilda. “No mask!”

“I am the Pallid Mask itself. I, I, I am the Phantom of Truth. I came from Arcanis. My star is Aldebaran. Truth is our invention; it is our weapon of war. And see—by this sign we have conquered, and the siege of good and evil is ended…”

On the horizon, the towers of Carcosa began to glow.

Noatalba pointed. “Look, look! Carcosa—Carcosa is on fire!”

Sebastian laughed and seized Camilla by the wrists.

“His hands!” shrieked Camilla in agony. “His HANDS!”

At her cry the music died discordantly. Then a tremendous, inhuman voice rolled from Carcosa across the Lake of Hali.

“Yhtill!” said the King in Yellow. “Yhtill! Yhtill!”

Sebastian released Camilla, who screamed wordlessly and fell.

The King in Yellow appeared, although only faintly. He stood in state upon the balcony. He had no face, and was twice as tall as a man. He wore pointed shoes under his tattered, fantastically colored robes, and a stream of silk appeared to fall from the pointed tip of his hood. Behind his back he held inverted a torch with a turned and jeweled shaft, which emitted smoke, but not light. At times he appeared to be winged; at others, haloed.

“Have you found the Yellow Sign?” asked the King in Yellow. “Have you found the Yellow Sign? Have you found the Yellow Sign?”

“I am the Phantom of Truth!” shouted Sebastian. “Tremble, O King in tatters!”

“The Phantom of Truth shall be laid,” said the King in Yellow. “The scalloped tatters of the King must hide Yhtill forever. As for thee, Hastur—“

“No!” shouted the crowd. “No, no!”

“And as for thee, we tell thee this,” said the King. “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living god.”

Sebastian fell, and everyone else sank slowly to the ground after him.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 1 – Foyer*

They appeared in the foyer of an ornate mansion. A freshly swept carpet graced the floor. The walls were decorated with bright, colorful tapestries. Brass candelabras lined the entranceway. They showed signs of having been recently polished and were filled with candles.

“Carcosa Castle,” said Kham.  “We’re here.”

Beldin pointed outside. “Is that in the play?” 

More frightening than the sudden change from the cave to the castle was the smoky gray mist that surrounded the castle at a distance of thirty feet, blocking all sight beyond. No sound penetrated the mist. 

Kham had read the play over and over. “There’s mention of mists. But I didn’t think they were literally mists. More of an allegory for confusion or something.”

The mist advanced on the mansion even as Vlad watched.  “Let’s not find out if it’s just an allegory.”

The double doors to the interior swung open into the main hallway by themselves.

They entered a wide, long hallway running east to west. In the center of the hall was a ten-foot wide red carpet stretching from the west door to the east door. The ceiling arched twenty feet high overhead. Near the east end of the hall, a raised catwalk stretched across the hallway ten feet above their heads. At either end of the overpass were double doors. 

Thousands of tiny square mirrors were set into the ceiling and walls. The resulting reflection of their torches resembled a swarm of fireflies as myriad pinpoints of light were reflected back. The floor of the hall, where it wasn’t covered with the red carpet, was polished white marble. The marble was so shiny they could see their reflections on its surface. Polished brass candelabra lined both walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. All the candleholders on the candelabra and chandeliers were filled with unlit candles.

“Stay alert,” said Kham.  “This is Carcosa, and it can change at any time.  I brought black paint along just in case we need to mark our trail.”  Kham had a bottle of the inky stuff that he trailed along behind him.

“Did it ever occur to you that you’re giving anything hostile a trail to follow us?” asked Vlad.

Kham shrugged.  “Anything that wants to find us in this place will, trust me.”

All the hallway doors suddenly swung open and then slammed shut. The resulting draft extinguished the lights. 

“Not a problem.” Kham rapped Daemonscar, the breastplate he wore underneath his overcoat.  “I can see just fine.”

“Me too,” said Beldin. “A little bit like home, actually.”

Vlad cleared his throat.  “While I’m perfectly capable of fighting blind, I can’t see in the dark like you two.”  There was the sound of Vlad fumbling in his pack.

“Vlad!” shouted Kham. “Don’t—“

Vlad’s tindertwig flared to life. 

All the candles in the hall magically lit at the same time with a brilliant flash. The light was reflected off the walls, ceiling and floor and off the highly polished chandeliers and candelabra.

“Damn it Vlad!” shouted Beldin.  

The flash blinded them all.  All they could see was white.

“Well,” Vlad said after a moment, “this is pretty much the same situation we were in before.”

“Skiz!” Kham yanked the talking rat, who had been sleeping, out of his haversack.  “You’re on watch.”

“Huh?  Whatcha mean boss?”

“I mean we’re all blind.  Haven’t you been listening in there?”

“Uh, no?”

“What do you do in there all day, anyway?”

“Do you really want to know, boss?”

“Never mind.” Kham sighed.  “I’m going to keep walking forward until you say otherwise, okay?”

“Uh, you may not want to do that boss.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s some dead bodies in the way.”

“Dead bodies?” asked Kham.  

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember seeing dead bodies,” said Beldin.

“Can we step over them?”

“If they lay down, probably,” reported Skiz.

“You mean they’re standing up?” Kham’s voice cracked.

“All around us now, yeah.”

“Run for it!”

Vlad and Beldin swung outwards with their weapons.  Kham just ran, jostling aside something hard to one side that rattled as it moved.  There was no gasping or breathing or even moaning.  Whatever Skiz saw, it was utterly silent.

Kham turned his head to listen behind him.  “I’m just going to keep running until you tell me to—“

“STOP!”

Then Kham slammed into double doors at the far end of the hallway.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 2 – The Forest of Doom*

Kham lay on the ground.  

“So I think I’m in grass now.  Are we outside?”

They had managed to close the door behind them.  Whatever things were stalking them in the hallway before were not willing to venture beyond.

“Not quite,” said Beldin.  Vlad and Beldin’s vision had cleared faster than Kham’s.  “We seem to be in some sort of indoor forest.  It’s a huge octagon-shaped building with seven domes.”

“That’s interesting.”  Kham rolled over, enjoying the feel of sunlight on his skin.  “Let’s just wait here until my vision comes back.”

“IF it comes back,” said Vlad.

Kham ignored him.  “Describe it to me.”

Beldin looked up.  “The domes are nearly a hundred feet high.  Looks like they’re made of thick panes of clear glass that let sunlight filter into the garden forest. Lots of trees, plants, grasses, and bushes.”

“I can hear water,” said Kham.

“Yep, a stream,” said Vlad.  “There’s a path too.”

They lay there for a long moment in silence.  

“Uh, boss?”

“Yeah, Skiz?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that we seem to be moving closer to the trees.”

Kham sat up.  “What?”

“Well, I decided to take a look around since you said I’m not paying enough attention.  And the trees I saw before are a lot closer.  So we’re either moving closer to the trees…”

“Or they’re moving closer to us.” Kham hopped to his feet.  “Which way does the path go Skiz?”

“To your right.”

“Run!”

Kham took off at a run, stumbling his way through the haze.  His vision was coming back but not well enough for him to make out much more than patterns.  Vlad and Beldin were strangely silent.

Kham stopped running.  “What happened to Vlad and Beldin?”

“The big guy and the dwarf?  Oh, the trees just are trying to eat them.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, the dwarf is putting up a fight.  Oooh, he made the tree mad.  Looks like he might get away…nope.  Just ate him.”

Kham felt a shadow pass over him. 

“What the hell was that?”

Skiz swallowed hard.  “I think it was some kind of demon.”

Kham dared to hope.  He felt a blast of heat and then an explosion reached his ears.

“Looks like it’s helping the other two.  Wow, the tree just puked up Beldin.”

There was the sound of beating wings.  A figure landed, depositing the dwarf and Milandisian in front of Kham.

“Sebastian!” Kham rubbed his eyes.  “Is that you?”

“It is I, I who am I.”  Sebastian’s voice was muffled.

Kham blinked, finally able to see.  “Why are you wearing that mask?”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 3 – The Billygoat’s Woe*

“So, I don’t suppose you know how to get out of here?” asked Kham. 

Sebastian, wearing a featureless pallid mask, shook his head.  “He flees where queen and prophet meet, where twin suns fall but never set, escapes the tomb of lost Carcosa…”

“You know if you didn’t have the same bat wings and fireballs I wouldn’t be sure it was you under that mask.  But it is you, right?”

Sebastian nodded.

“Now what?” grumbled Beldin.  He was still grumpy about being eaten by a tree.

“We follow the path, of course!” Kham grinned.

They came to a ten-foot wide wooden bridge that spanned a meandering stream. The path continued across the bridge. On the side of the bridge closest to them was a humanoid with the head and horns of a billy goat.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared a voice beneath the bridge.

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, with such a small voice.

"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up," said the thing beneath the bridge.

"Oh, no! Pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am," said the billy goat. "Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Vlad.

A deep gruff voice from beneath the bridge answered, “Well, be off with you," said the troll. 

The billygoat exited across the bridge.

“This place is ridiculous,” said Kham. “Let’s just cross the bridge.”

Beldin gripped his axe.  “It’s a troll.”

“I know it’s a troll,” said Kham. “That doesn’t mean we have to fight it.”

“I’m not going to be bullied by a troll,” said the dwarf.  He approached the bridge.

“We could just run right past it.  We don’t even know if it’s really a troll.  Probably a—“

“Gremlins,” said Sebastian.  “They’re everywhere.”

Kham looked at him sideways.  “Sure.  Gremlins.  Maybe it’s gremlins.”

"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

“It is I, Beldin Soulforge!” said the dwarf, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.

Kham slapped his forehead.

"Now I 'm coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

“Well, come along!” shouted Beldin down at the bridge. 

The troll wasn’t hiding under the bridge.  Its body unfurled, bent over as it was beneath the bridge. It was huge and monstrously ugly, with teeth the size of Beldin’s body.  

“I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears!” shouted the dwarf.  Beldin rolled as a huge claw came down, missing him.  He hacked downwards with his axe when he came back up, severing the troll’s hand.

The troll howled. 

“I'll crush you to bits, body and bones!” shouted Beldin.  The troll hunched over him, maw opened wide.  Beldin charged right into the thing’s torso.  He knocked it sideways.

Before it could react, a gout of flame consumed it from behind.  Sebastian landed on the other side of the bridge, dusting his hands.

Vlad peered over the edge of the bridge.  The boiling stream washed the twitching remains of the troll away. “What just happened?” 

“It’s a dwarf, troll, bridge thing,” said Kham.  “Try not to think about it.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 4 – The Fountain of Death*

In the center of the indoor forest was a circular pool of water. A stream that wandered through the forest fed the pool.

“Beldin,” Kham warned the dwarf, “I don’t care how tempting that chest looks, don’t touch it.”

In the middle of the pool was a fountain shaped like three interlinked gargoyles. The gargoyles sprayed water from their mouths. Embedded at the base of the trio of statues was the lid of a padlocked metal chest. 

“It could be important,” said Beldin.  “We should open it just to be sure.”

“It’s a trap,” said Kham.  “How could it not be a trap?  Everything in this place is a trap.”

“Fine.” Beldin crossed his arms.  “But I think it’s a mistake.”

“Hey boss!” shouted Skiz, wiggling through the keyhole to the chest.  “There’s a silver key in here!”

Kham double-checked his haversack.  His pet rat had run over to the fountain during their argument. “Damn it Skiz!  Get out of there!”

“But there’s a shiny key in here!”

Slowly, the water rose up to reveal a dripping gray mass of animated slime.  It loomed over the chest.

“Skiz,” Kham said slowly. “I want you to listen to me carefully.  Back out of the chest.  Right now.”

Skiz popped his head out. “What’s that boss?” The rat looked up and froze.  Like a wave in slow motion, the slime curled over the chest.

Suddenly, the chest spiraled outwards on a column of water and landed at Beldin’s feet.  The dwarf had one hand out, concentrating. 

Thwarted, the ooze returned to its eternal slumber in the fountain.  Skiz hopped up Kham’s leg and ducked back into the haversack without another word.

Vlad smashed the padlock open.  Sure enough, inside was a silver key. 

“Remind me to thank Cho Sun for dying,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 5 – The Wild Hunt*

“That billy goat looked familiar,” said Vlad.

Kham nodded.  “They’re ibixians.  Wilfred Gresty and his cult were using them as sacrifices to summon Tizzhet.”

“Didn’t he mention he had brothers?” said Beldin.

Suddenly, a hill to their left burst open and several ibixians riding byakhee flew out of it.

“Get down!” shouted Vlad.

The byakhee swooped overhead, claws clicking as they flew by.  The byakhee wheeled about.

“They’re coming for another pass!”

Sebastian rose up, wings spread wide.  He muttered a muffled incantation.  A ball of flame engulfed the byakhee.  In the distance, all of the goat men fell from their mounts, landing on their feet as the byakhee hit the ground.

The leader had the head of a large black goat and his body was covered with black, shaggy hair. His eyes glowed red, and though he had hands, instead of human feet he had goat hooves. The goat man had two blades out, advancing menacingly on Kham.

“I’m going to shoot you in the eyes,” Kham said calmly.  He drew two pistols and took careful aim.

Undeterred, the goat man continued to advance.

Both pistols kicked in Kham’s hands.  The blasts echoed throughout the indoor forest.  Startled birds flew from a flock of trees.

And when the smoke cleared, the ibixian lay on the ground with two smoking craters where its eyes used to be.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 6a – The Throne Room*

The walls of the throne room were covered with mosaics depicting courtly scenes. The floor was polished marble. Two thrones sit atop a raised dais. At the east end of the room a red velvet carpet ran from the double doors to the thrones. 

“Now this I recognize,” said Kham. 

A skeletal figure sat on one of thrones. The skeletons were dressed in rotting velvet. One held a jeweled mace. Twenty more skeletons stood on guard, ten each along the north and south walls. 

“I don’t remember skeletons in the play,” said Beldin.

The guards wore rusted armor and carried halberds with rusted blades. Another dozen skeletons, wearing decayed court dress, stood in front of the thrones. The skeletons’ bones were fused by the devastation so that they stood in rigid poses, a courtier bowing, a lady leaning sideways to gossip, and so on.

“You’re right,” said Kham.  “This is after the fact.”  He looked at Sebastian.  “And let me guess.  You’re the Stranger, right?”

Sebastian took to the air, huge bat wings flapping.  There was a shimmering translucent aura about him.

Kham squinted.  It had a vaguely feminine shape.  He suddenly understood what Sebastian was trying to tell him: where Queen and Prophet meet.  Literally. It was…

”Cassilda!” shouted Kham.  “Let him go!”

There was a muffled incantation from behind Sebastian’s mask.  Vlad spun and held Grungronazharr before him just as the ball of flames hit.

The blast was dispersed by Vlad’s blade.  

“Don’t hurt him!” shouted Kham.  “He’s possessed!”

“Now you tell us,” said Beldin.  The dwarf had taken the brunt of the blast on his shield, but his beard was still smoking.  

Sebastian began to trace another spell.

“I’ve got him!” Vlad drew something from his belt pouch and threw it.  It struck Sebastian in the chest, expanding into glob of sticky goo.  Sebastian’s wings were stuck to his back.  He fell twenty feet to the ground. “Now Kham!” 

Kham gathered his mental energy.  He had learned the power to focus his mind, oddly enough, when the King in Yellow had first contacted him in the arena in Vestalanium.  Now he was using it to defeat Carcosa’s queen.

They engaged in a struggle of wills over Sebastian’s body.  And for a brief eternity, Kham understood what happened in the throne room.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 6b – The Throne Room*

“I have enfolded Yhtill,” said the King in Yellow, “and the Phantom of Truth is laid.” He spoke more quietly. “Henceforth, the ancient lies will rule as always…” The King turned to Cassilda. “Now. Cassilda!”

Cassilda rose mutely to her knees.

“Thou wert promised a Dynasty by Truth, and in truth shalt thou have a dynasty,” said the King. “The Kingdom of Hastur was first in all the world, and would have ruled the world, except for this: Carcosa did not want it. Hence, thereafter, Hastur and Arcanis divided; but those in Arcanis sent you from Aldebaran the Phantom of Truth and all was lost; together, you forgot the Covenant of the Sign. Now there is much which needs to be undone.”

“How, King?” Naotabla asked faintly. “How?

“Henceforth, Hastur and Arcanis will be divided forever. Forever shalt thou contend for mastery, and strive in bitter blood to claim which shall be uppermost: flesh or phantom, black or white. In due course of starwheels, this strife will come to issue; but not now; oh, no, not now.”

“And—until then?” whispered Cassilda.

“Until then, Carcosa will vanish; but my rule, I tell you now, is permanent, despite Aldebaran. Be warned. Also be promised: He who triumphs in this war shall be my—can I be honest?—inheritor, and so shall have the Dynasty back. But think: Already you own the world. The great query is: Can you rule it? The query is the gift. The King in Yellow gives it in your hands, to hold … or to let loose. Choose, terrible children.”

“You are King, and are most gracious,” said Naotalba faintly. “We thank you.”

“YOU thank ME?” The King drew himself up, indignant. “I am the living god! Bethink thyself, priest. There is a price, I have not as yet stated the half of it.”

Everyone waited, petrified.

“The price is: The fixing of the Mask.”

Silence. 

“You do not understand me,” said the King. “I will explain it once and then no more. Hastur, you acceded to, and wore, the Pallid Mask. That is the price. Henceforth, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known. And war between the masked men and the naked shall be perpetual and bloody, until I come again … or fail to come.”

Noatalba started to his knees. “Unfair, unfair! It was Arcanis invented the Pallid Mask! Aldones—“

“Why should I be fair? I am the living god. As for Aldones, he is the father of you all. That is the price: the fixing of the mask.”

“Not upon us, oh King!” Camilla wept bitterly. “Not upon us!

“Yhtill! Yhtill! Yhtill!” shouted the King.

The Hyades and Carcosa were once more visible over the balcony rail. The mass of corruption that had been the Stranger rose slowly and uncertainly. A child ran out from the crowd, and seized the Stranger by one mushy hand, leading him shambling out across the balcony. There was a low, composite moan as they left.

“Not upon us!” Cassilda stood and threw her arms wide. “Not upon us!”

“What?!” asked the King. “Do you think to be human still?”

“Now we shall…” began Naotalba.

The King suddenly pointed at him. “You desired the commencement of a new age; I say unto you that I am the new age. My reign has begun, but what need have I for priests when the eternal dead may serve me? Where has your irrationality and certitude brought you? Begone!”

The King spread his arms for but a moment. Naotalba screamed and dusty rose from his body, leaving his skeleton in mid-gesture.

The King turned to Cassilda. “You desired survival; I say unto you only that you have survived.”

“I have survived all of my children,” Cassilda said bitterly.

“Was that not your desire? To survive? Or did I misunderstand?”

“But not like this! You’ve taken my children…”

“Not I,” interrupted the King. “See where your conciliation and indifference have brought you?”

“…but I shall not surrender,” Cassilda said defiantly. “I shall never surrender.  Aldones may still live.  He shall be the last king.”

“Aldones was the FIRST king. I am the Last King.”

“I shall not abdicate.”

“You already have.”

A pause.

“Have you conquered Hastur then?” asked Cassilda in a small voice.

“I AM Hastur.  I have reclaimed Hastur from its human infestation.  The parasites who continue to live here do so at my sufferance.”

“Is there nothing else?”

“How can you deny it?”

Cassilda was frantic. “But surely Carcosa is your city, not Hastur.”

“But now, this IS Carcosa, for the doom of Carcosa is visited upon you all.” The King spread his arms wide.

“Not upon us, oh King!” shrieked Cassilda. “Not upon us!”

Then her flesh turned to dust.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 7 – Card Room*

“Thank you,” was all Sebastian said. 

Kham rose to his feet.  The effort to blast Camilla from Sebastian’s body had nearly collapsed him.  “It’s a scary place inside your head.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” came the muffled reply. “Are you sure you still want to see this room?  It holds a fated deck of cards. When I turned the card, it did…not go well.”

Beldin pushed open the door. “I want to see what fate will deal me.”

Vlad agreed and entered behind him.

Kham shrugged.  “I’m done with games of chance, especially in this place.”

The walls of the room were wood paneled and a plush carpet covered the floor. A number of card tables and wooden chairs were scattered around the room. Sitting behind a table in the middle of the room was a matronly woman dressed like a gypsy. On the table in front of her were ten cards, face down. The cards were arranged in two rows of five cards each. 

As soon as the door opened, the woman said, “Welcome, come in, come in. The cards know all. The cards see all. Make yourselves comfortable. Who’ll be the first to choose a card? Pick a card, any card.”

Beldin sat down in front of the woman.  He jutted his lower lip out while he considered which card to pick.  Then he drew one and looked at it.

“The Queen of Cups,” said the woman.

A queenly figure stood holding a cup her right hand, a scepter in her left. As Beldin stared at the card, a goblet appeared on the table.

“This magic cup will grow warm when someone tells its holder a lie,” said the woman.

“That’ll come in handy,” said Beldin.  He took the goblet.

Vlad eagerly replaced Beldin at the table. It didn’t take long for him to choose…he was staring over Beldin’s shoulder when the dwarf was picking his card. Vlad drew his own card.  

“The Juggler,” said the woman.

A man in a wide-brimmed hat stood in front of various objects placed at random on a table. The man pointed a wand in his right hand toward the sky while pointing with his left hand toward the ground.

A small ring appeared on the table.

Vlad looked down at it.  “That’s it?  Just a ring?”

“That is no ordinary ring. It stores spells. Use it wisely.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to pick a card?” Vlad turned to Kham as he put the ring on.  “We seem to be having some good luck.”

Kham refused to enter the room. “You forgot how I got Fleshripper? You’d better hope that ring doesn’t turn out to be cursed.”

When Vlad turned back to address the woman, she and her cards were gone.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 8 – The Blue Room*

The walls and ceiling of the room they entered were painted blue. The floor was covered with an azure colored carpet. The incense of cedar, saffron, and ambergris filled the room. Miscellaneous furniture, all dyed blue, was scattered about the room. 

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” said Kham.

A hulking blue humanoid, trailing cold mist from its jagged maw, advanced on them.

“What the hell is that?” asked Vlad.

“I don’t know, but it’s going to be sorry it tangled with us,” said Beldin.  

The room was freezing.  The creature reared back and took a deep breath.

“Behind me!” shouted Beldin.

Sebastian and Vlad ducked behind Beldin.  A blast of icy cold air covered much of the furniture with rime.

“Ha!” Beldin charged forward as Vlad looped around the creature’s right side.  “This shield is made of ignium!”  He hacked at the beast and chips of ice flew from it.  “Forged it myself!”

“I think this is some form of elemental,” said Sebastian.  Vlad struck it from the opposite side.

Enraged, the elemental turned and unleashed another blast of frost, trailing Vlad as he dove over a blue chair. 

Sebastian pointed and searing rays danced from his fingertips, singing the thing.  Pirouettes of steam trailed from its wounds.

Beldin blocked a rake of the elemental’s claws and retaliated with Windcutter, chipping deeply into the beast’s shoulder.  It hissed in the dwarf’s face, freezing pieces of his beard.

Vlad came back around and struck at its head while Beldin struck low. The creature suddenly froze in place. Blue light leaked out from a spider web of cracks that latticed the elemental’s form.

“Uh…is it supposed to do that?”

“Get behind me!” shouted Beldin.

They hunkered down behind the shield. Ice exploded outwards, splintering wood and skewering the walls with deadly icicles. 

Vlad looked around.  “Where’s Kham?”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 9a – The Green Room*

Kham skidded into yet another colored room, this one painted green.  An emerald-colored carpet covered the floor. The scent of sandlewood, roses and musk filled the room. 

A giant man stood in the center of the room. His body was brawny as any can be, so bull-necked, big-thighed, bulky and square, so long-legged, large-limbed, looming so tall.  Kham wasn’t sure if he was half-troll or merely as large as living man could be -- a handsome one too

“Don’t tell me,” said Kham. “This is the green room.”

The giant was dressed in green from head to toe: a tunic worn tight, tucked to his ribs; and a rich cloak cast over it, covered inside with a fine fur lining, fitted and sewn with ermine trim that stood out in contrast from his hair where his hood lay folded flat; and handsome hose of the same green hue which clung to his calves, with clustered spurs of bright gold; beneath them striped embroidered silk above his bare shanks. His clothes were all kindled with a clear light like emeralds: His belt buckles sparkled, and bright stones were set in rich rows arranged up and down himself. Worked in the silk were too many trifles to tell the half of: embroidered birds, butterflies, and other things in a gaudy glory of green and inlaid gold. 

"It is not my purpose to pass any time in this place,” said the green knight. “But I have been told that this court and castle are accounted the finest. True knighthood is known here, or so the tale runs, which is why I am here.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” said Kham.  “I’m no knight.  And from the looks of it, neither are you.”

The hair on the giant’s head fanned out freely enfolding his shoulders, and his beard hung below as big as a bush, all mixed with the marvelous mane on his head, which was cut off in curls cascading to his elbows, wrapping round the rest of him like a king's cape clasped to his neck.

“You may be sure by this branch that I bear that I come in peace, with no plans for battle. I have a hauberk at home, and a helmet too, and other weapons I know well how to wield. Yet as war is not my wish I am wearing soft silk, but, if you wish to pass, you will be glad to grant me the game that is mine by right."

The giant held in one hand a sprig of holly that bursts out greenest when branches are bare; and his other hand hefted a huge and awful axe, a broad battleaxe with a bit to tell with a large head four feet long: the green steel down the grain etched with gold, its broad edge burnished and bright, shaped razor-sharp to sheer through steel, and held high on a heavy staff which was bound at the base with iron bands gracefully engraved in bright green patterns. A strap was strung through the steel head, running loop after loop down the length of the handle, which was tied with tassels in abundance, attaching by rich braids onto bright green buttons.

Kham looked over his shoulder.  “I really don’t have time…”

"Do you have what it takes," said the giant, "to stand your ground, giving stroke for stroke? Here! I shall give you this gilded blade as my gift; this heavy axe shall be yours, to handle as you like, and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the first blow.”

Kham swigged a potion and disappeared.  “How about you deal with him first, courtesy of the white room.”

The green giant looked surprised as a white, multi-limbed lizard slithered in from the adjacent room.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 9b – The Green Room*

Vlad, Sebastian, and Beldin entered the room just in time to see the green giant dispatch the frost salamander.

“If you’re tough enough to try out my game, come here quickly and claim the weapon!” exclaimed the giant. “I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps.”

Beldin and Vlad looked at each other in disbelief.

"Hah! Where have your pride and your power gone, your bragging boasts, your big words? Your little invisible friend still tries to circumvent me, but it will do no good!” 

He let out a laugh so loud that Vlad winced with shame; the blood shot to his flushed face and churned with rage and raised a storm until his heart burned.

"Look here, have you lost your mind?” asked Vlad. “Hand me that axe -- I will grant you the gift you beg me to give!"

Vlad lifted the axe from the giant’s hand.

The giant advanced while Vlad held the axe, both hands on the haft, hefted it sternly, considered his stroke. That burly giant bulked big and tall, a head higher than Vlad. He stood there hard-faced, stroking his beard, impassively watching as he pulled off his coat, no more moved or dismayed by his mighty swings than anybody would be if somebody brought him a bottle of wine.

Beldin put one hand out.  “Wait.  This is a giant.  He’s offering an axe.  Give it to me.”

Vlad handed the axe to the dwarf.

Beldin went to the giant, weapon in hand, not the least bit bashful, as bold as could be.

Then the green giant said to Beldin, "We should go over our agreement before we begin. First, dwarf, I would know your name, told truly as one I can trust."

"My name is Beldin Soulforge," he said, "I give it in good faith, as I will give you a blow and bear what comes after."

"Beldin: good. I derive great pleasure from the stroke your hardy hands will drive. Take up the grim tool you need, and show me how you chop."

"Gladly, sir," said Beldin, "Indeed,” and gave the axe a strop.

The green giant drew a smaller sword and faced Beldin down.  With a roar, he swung at Beldin’s head.

The dwarf rolled and blocked the blow with the axe.  He ducked and weaved, each shattering blow of the giant’s blade barely missing him.  Finally, Beldin waited until the giant, exhausted, overextended himself with a particularly forceful blow.

His head low to the ground, Beldin held the axe high overhead, his left foot set before him on the floor, and swung swiftly at the soft flesh so the bit of the blade broke through the bones, crashed through the clear fat and cut it in two, and the brightly burnished edge bit into the earth.

The handsome head fell, hit the ground, and rolled forward. The red blood burst bright from the green body.

“That only took forever,” came Kham’s voice.  Then the door opened behind the giant’s headless body.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 10 – The Black Room*

Ebony paint covered the walls and ceiling of this room. A sable carpet covered the floor. The scent of henbane, assaofetida, and hellebore root filled the room. All the furniture in the room was lacquered black. 

A hulking black monstrosity with a string of gleaming yellow eyes dotting either side of its head lunged at the open door. 

Beldin rushed forward, driving his shield into the thing’s mouth to keep it bay.  Vlad came in quickly behind.

They were trapped in a stalemate.  The beast’s massive claws threatened Beldin, but it was too distracted by the shield lodged in its mouth.  Its jaws were massive and corded; Beldin’s shield groaned under the weight.

“Do something!” shouted Beldin.

Sebastian hesitated. Hurling an orb of acid might his friend.  He opted instead of a bolt of magical energy, but the thing shrugged it off.

Vlad drew his crossbow, aimed, and fired.  The beast ignored the bolt sticking out of its head.

The door on the opposite side of the room opened and closed.  Then suddenly someone yanked hard on the carpet.

Losing their footing, Beldin and the creature flew up into the air.  But where Beldin landed on the floor, the beast smashed through a trap door that led to a forty-foot drop.

Kham was visible at the other end of the rug.

“Where have you been?” asked Vlad.

“Talking to the flaming-haired dwarf in the red room.  Nice enough, but not very helpful.”

“You could have helped us,” said Sebastian. “Instead of setting off all the guardians at once.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” said Kham.  “I consider that being helpful.” He lowered himself through the trap door.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 11 – Magical Letter Square*

A large square grid was painted on the floor in the middle of the room. The grid was five ten-foot by ten-foot squares long and wide, a total of twenty-five squares. A huge capital letter was painted in the middle of each square. There was a door on the other side of the room, but to reach it they would have to step on several of the painted squares.

Sebastian mulled it over.  “It’s all in Hasturic: Gohen, Orare, Hazah, Eraro, and Nehog.”

Kham peered at the letter in front of him. “And that means…”  

“Eraro means shapeshifters.  That’s all I know.”

“Great, so I don’t want step on Eraro.” Kham swigged a potion.  “In fact, I don’t plan to step on any of them.  He took a running lead in the hallway before the room.

“No, wait!”

Kham leaped, clearing the room and slamming into the door on the far side of the wall.

“He made it,” said Beldin with relief.

“Oh sure,” Kham called out behind him.  “I just can’t see anything.”

“Blind again?” asked Vlad.  “One day I’ll teach you how to blind-fight.”

“Yeah, thanks, that’s helpful.  I’m going to keep going.”

“But you can’t see!” shouted Sebastian.

“Skiz will guide me.  SKIZ!  Wake up!”

Kham felt his way out of the room as his pet rat poked its head out of his haversack.

Sebastian sighed.  “I will fly over it, perhaps that will make a difference.”

He flapped across the room, landed, and turned around.  “I don’t feel any different.”

“I’ll try a different approach,” said Vlad.  He ran across it diagonally.  No effect.

“Beldin, maybe you should…” began Sebastian.

Beldin walked straight ahead in the same path Kham had taken.  

“Or you could do that.”

The dwarf smiled at Sebastian.  “It takes more than words to blind a dwarf.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Amborse: Part 12 – Cells*

They passed four dungeon cells.  The back and side walls of each cell were made of stone. The front wall was a grid of iron bars. In one cell was a longhaired man holding a paintbrush and a bucket of paint. He was huddled in the corner of the room, staring rapturously at a highly realistic painting of the moon on the back wall of his cell. 

Vlad battered the lock open.  

“What are you doing?” asked Beldin.

Then Vlad stepped inside the cell with the man and stared at the painting of the moon.

Sebastian looked away.  “Don’t look at it!”

Kham felt his way back to the cell.  “What’s going on?”

Beldin frowned.  “Vlad seems to be enchanted.  He’s staring at a painting of the moon.”

Kham reached into his haversack and pulled out a can of paint.

“Where?”

“Straight ahead of you.”

“Not going to have much use for this paint anyway,” Kham muttered to himself. Then he pulled back and threw the bucket.

The can collided with the wall, spraying black paint everywhere.  The moon was covered.

The man in the cell blinked. Then he immediately set to scrubbing off the paint.  

Vlad shook his head in confusion.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” said Beldin.  “Kham was finally being useful.  Let’s get away from here before that guy starts painting another moon.”

Beldin was focused on Vlad.  Vlad’s eyes were still adjusting from the enchantment.  Kham was blind.  And Sebastian had little peripheral vision due to the Pallid Mask.  So none of them saw Drak Scarbelly and his two companions, bound and gagged in a corner of one of the other cells.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 13a – Alchemistry Laboratory*

Sebastian looked around.  “Looks like an alchemist’s laboratory.”

The room had long wooden tables and myriad wood shelves filled with strange flasks and glassware: alembics, calcinators, sublimators, athanors, retorts and distillation apparatus.

The door slammed shut behind them. 

Kham turned.  “What was that?”

Vlad tried the door.  “We’re locked in.”

There was a soft hissing noise.

“What’s THAT?”

Beldin’s voice was resigned.  “That’s a black powdery cloud being released into the room.”

The cloud moved as though it were alive.  They struggled to cover their nose and mouths. 

Kham collapsed.

“Black lotus!” shouted Sebastian.  “It can make your dreams come…” He collapsed before he could finish.

Vlad reached one hand towards Beldin, as if trying to convey some desperate message.  Then he fell backwards off the table to the ground.

Beldin looked around and, frustrated and helpless, bellowed in rage.  “It’ll take more than that to stop a—“

Then he too, fell prey to the black lotus.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 13b – Alchemistry Laboratory*

Kham dreamed of Camilla, Cassilda, Naotalba and Aldones. 

Camilla entered the throne room, her nightgown dirty and torn, her hair stringy and damp. She held the Stranger’s robe tightly to her breast.  

Her gaze wandered until she saw Aldones.  She smiled broadly, paused a moment, and then danced around the room, waving the robe in the air like a flag.

“As if summoned, she appears,” said Naotalba in wonder.

“Great joy, father,” shouted Camilla, “for the Yellow Sign is found!  Great joy to all who see it! Great…”

“Traitor!” snarled Aldones.  “You sell us to the priests and the mob!  What price your treachery? What profit your crimes?”

Camilla stopped, uncertain and confused.  “Dear father…”

Aldones turned to Cassilda.  “It is a simple matter, your majesty.  If she is mad, that’s one thing.  But if she simply acts of it, if she is indeed a traitor, then we must stop her.”

Cassilda eyed her daughter as she spoke to Aldones.  “Your explanations wheel like a flight of sparrows, Aldones.  I am growing impatient.”

“Hardly,” said Aldones.

Naotalba ignored him.  “Did she not see Carcosa’s rising tide?”

”No one sees it now, priest,” said Aldones.

“She, like her brother before her, has dropped your dynasty’s veil behind,” he responded to Aldones.  “So crossing from your destiny to mine.”

“So she’s with you, then?” 

“Surely she has chosen madness wisely—” 

“Riddles!” shouted Aldones.  “Riddles!  While war wages about us, ruin closer by the minute, you rhyme and preen and gloat! I’ve had enough!”

“I am content to wait,” said Naotalba.  “The time cannot be long in coming.”

“But father, how is Uoht?” asked Camilla. “I had him arrested…“

Aldones interrupted her.  “The traitor admits it!”

“…as you asked me,” she finished.

“Calm yourself, Aldones,” said Cassila.  “She sounds to me as though her madness retreats a little, if such a thing were possible.  Hear her out.”

“If you will not defend your dynasty, I will!” Aldones grabbed a musket from a guard’s hands and aimed it at Camilla.

Naotalba dove to the ground.  “Save us!”

Cassilda rose to her feet and screamed.  “No!”

Aldones fired.  The musket flashed with fire and smoke and Camilla crumpled to the ground.  As the explosive sound echoed away, absolute silence reigned.

“So.  ‘Tis true.  ‘Tis all true,” said Cassilda, resigned.  “After a fashion.”

Aldones seemed to be stunned after what he’d done.  “Cassilda…”

“Only ‘twas you.”  Cassilda calmly drew her sword.  “’Twas you who sent Uoht to the tower, to his death.  And now…”

“Dear wife!” exclaimed Aldones.

“To cover your lies…”

“Not true!”

“Aldones,” Cassilda said deliberately.  “It is you who are the traitor.”

Aldones dropped the musket, almost throwing it away.  He shook. 

“You lied to me, you slack-brained piece of human filth.  How long were you lying to me?  How long?  Just today? A week? A year? When have you not lied to me, to all of us?”

“No! I… I…” Aldones looked about wildly.  “Naotalba.  Yes, Naotalba…”

Cassilda took a step down from the throne, growing in her anger as Aldones shrank.  “What?”

“He bewitched me.”

Cassidal took another step.  “Try again.”

“I…I was mad.”

She stepped off the dais.  “No.”

“It’s not my fault.  I…”

“Draw your sword.”

“But she was a…that is she…ah!”

Cassilda swung her sword at Aldones.  He backed away hurriedly and drew his own blade.  She swung her blade in a wicked arc at his head, and Aldones only barely blocked the blow.

“Murderer! Liar!” She wounded Aldones.  “You have destroyed us!”

“I sacrificed the present,” shouted Aldones, “for the future!”

“Tell me—was it ambition or just a natural sense of cruelty that drove you?” She struck another blow.

Aldones recovered his poise slightly and mounted a stronger defense.

“Destiny drove me.”

“Please…”

“It was always my destiny to repudiate your dismissal of me.  You’re such an idiot, Cassilda.  You never had the will to do what was politically necessary.” 

“Necessary?” Enraged, Cassilda drove him back.  “Necessary?  What was necessary?” She slashed Aldones’ arm.  “Was Camilla necessary?  Was Uoht necessary?  Our children; our future, that was your sacrifice, for your anger and your ego.  Were all the murders necessary?” She slashed his other arm.  “The lies?”

Aldones retreated, afraid.  “Cassilda!”

“The torture—was that also politically necessary? Or did you just enjoy it?”

“Cassilda…”

“Why won’t you die?”  She lunged and stabbed him through the thigh.

“I…I only wanted…to save us.”

“See how you have condemned us?”

Cassilda knocked Aldones’ sword from his hand and he fell against the throne.  She raised her sword for the killing blow and struck.

Even as the breath left Aldones’ lungs, spells that had been in place for just such a contingency went into effect.  

“He is dead, your majesty,” said Naotalba.

Cassilda was still shaking in her rage.  “Is truth so easily dispatched?”

“What shall we do now, your majesty?” asked the priest.

“I don’t know.” Cassilda paused.  “Dispose of the body.”

“It…it seems to have vanished.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 14 – Bobbing for a Key*

In the center of the otherwise bare room was a ten-foot deep sunken pit filled with liquid. A thin glass sphere floated in the middle of the pit. Inside the sphere can be seen a large silver key.

“In Carcosa, the black lotus can make dreams come true,” Sebastian explained as they entered.  “It is likely that Kham’s dream took him somewhere else.  If he did not return by the end of the dream, then he is still there.” 

“We’ve been in the Dreamlands twice before,” said Vlad.  “Hopefully he can find his way back.”

“I dreamed I was falling,” said Beldin.  “Fortunately, it didn’t come true.”

“I dreamed…” Vlad shuddered.  “Let’s just say I don’t want to sleep out in the forest anymore.”

Sebastian sighed.  His wings were covered in feathers.  “I dreamed Illiir gave me the gift of flight.  Only I already have it.  I woke up with these feathered wings.”

“Who was behind that amber-colored light?” asked Beldin.  The light had healed all their wounds while they slept, and it faded as they awoke.

“Aldones, I think,” said Beldin.  “I believe he is watching over us somehow.”

“And here’s another silver key.” Sebastian pointed at the glass sphere. “Perhaps we need more than one.”

Beldin flipped a silver piece into the pit.  It sizzled and disintegrated.  “Acid.”

Vlad peered into the pit. “I suppose if you tie a rope to me I could try to…”

Sebastian made a gesture. The glass sphere floated past Vlad and landed at Sebastian’s feet.  

“Oh.  Right.”

Sebastian stomped on the glass and it broke easily.  He snatched up the silver key with a flourish. 

“Beldin, let me see your key.”

Beldin held up the first silver key they had found. They appeared identical.

“They seem more ornamental than anything,” said the dwarf.  “There’s not enough teeth in these keys to make them of much value, but they are made of solid silver.”

Vlad nodded.  “Then we’d better find the lock.  Let’s go.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 15 – The Demon of Death*

A pentagram surrounded by a circle was painted in white on the floor in the middle of the room. An amber colored candle burned at each point of the pentagram. A hunting horn of amber hung from a peg on one wall. 

Vlad was filled with dread.  “What is that?”

There was movement in the darkness in the center of the pentagram. 

“Hello, Vlad Martell.  We meet again.”

Standing in the pentagram was a ten-foot tall humanoid covered with a dull gray scaly skin. Its gaunt body was hairless. Ivory fangs protruded from its mouth and its fingers ended in metallic talons. Its eyes glowed like smoldering coals and two huge bat-like wings grew out of its back.

“The Honor of Cadic,” said Vlad.

Beldin looked from the devil to Vlad.  “You two know each other?”

“Please, call me Urumeh,” said the devil.  

“Don’t listen to him,” said Sebastian.  “He’ll say anything to get out of his prison.”

Urumeh looked bemused.  “An interesting irony, given your mask and wings.”

“How do you know this thing?” Beldin asked Vlad.

“We…” Vlad fumbled for words.  “Took the Chalice of Midnight from him.”

“Don’t you mean stole?” asked Urumeh. “I fought hard to save that world, but it was lost to the Unspeakable One’s minions. Knowing that I could not so easily be destroyed, they imprisoned me here. And now that Aldones Stefan Ambrose has arrived, Carcosa is being built anew.”

“So it was Ambrose who caused all this!” exclaimed Beldin.  

Vlad just glared at the devil prince. 

“You have two keys.  You will need three to escape this prison.  Release me and I will tell you where the third key is.”

“I doubt that sincerely,” said Sebastian.  “You are not to be trusted.”

“And you, who attacked your friends, are?  You, who even now wear a mask that conceals your features?  You, who shares the very same ichor that runs through my veins? Set me free. We are brothers, you and I.”

“Enough! I won’t listen to this any longer.” Sebastian stalked out of the room.  “Let’s go.” With a grunt, Beldin followed after him.

“Consider carefully, Vlad,” said Urumeh.  “My troops lost the fihali homeworld to the k’n-yan.  You nearly lost your own to the King in Yellow.  You are alone in this world.  Only I am powerful enough to resist its bonds.”

Vlad turned towards the door. As Urumeh saw his potential rescue chances diminish, his voice became more urgent.

“Decimus made a deal with Losknek!  He traded far more than my Chalice!”

Vlad hesitated.

“He traded free—“

Vlad slammed the door behind him.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 16 – Entrance to the Land of the Ghouls*

Vlad composed himself.  “You’re sure it’s in here?”

“We’ve been over this,” said Sebastian.  “The key can’t be anywhere else.  We dealt with the hellhound kennels and the great worm.  Neither of them had it.”

Beldin made a face.  “I practically swam through that worm’s entrails looking for it too.”

“But…does it have to be ghouls?”

Sebastian sighed.  “We will make this quick.  On my count, I will unleash my most destructive magicks.  Clean up whatever still moves when I’m done.  Ready?”

“Ready,” said Beldin.

“I guess,” said Vlad. “I can smell them through the door.”

“One.”

Vlad gripped his sword and shield.  He had nearly been turned into a ghoul, dragged by the things in Freeport into their warren.

“Two.”

It took all of Father Peg-Leg’s magic to reverse the curse.  It was a painful process.

“Three!”

Beldin kicked open the door.  Six hideous ghouls, ears cocked to listen, were caught unawares.  Flames from Sebastian’s fingertips washed over them.  The stench was overpowering.

Vlad gagged, unable to continue.  The ghouls’ bodies burst like rotten fruit under the intense heat, leaving nothing but split carcasses behind. 

“Stay here,” said Sebastian.  He dove into the pit.

A few moments later, he flapped out of the hole with a chest in his hands.  He placed it before Beldin.

The dwarf bashed it open with one blow from Windcutter.   He eagerly opened the chest.

Beldin held up a silver key.  “The third key.”

“Thank gods!” said Vlad. 

“Now we just have to find the lock they belong to,” said Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 17 – The Gate of the Silver Keys*

Beldin squinted at the amber statue of a lion.  It stood between them and a silver gate with three large keyholes.

“I guess that’s the guardian,” he said skeptically.

The massive amber lion’s head turned to track Beldin’s movements.

“Yep,” said Vlad.

“All right then, let’s get on with it.”  Beldin rushed forward.

The amber lion moved much quicker than the dwarf anticipated.  It jumped into the air and pinned him to the ground with its bulk.  

Sebastian gestured and searing rays of energy struck the amber lion, only to bounce off harmlessly.  “It is immune to my magic!”

Beldin was pinned beneath his shield.  “Try something else!”

Vlad hacked at the amber lion.  Grungronazharr bounced off its hide, utterly ineffective.  Still, it was enough to distract the guardian. The amber lion lifted its head in a mute roar at Vlad.

“I have something else,” said Sebastian.  “Stand back!”

Vlad danced back.  The lion turned its attention back to Beldin, preparing to bite his head off.

A pale blue sphere crackled in his open palm.  He threw it at the amber lion.

The lion froze as the blue light spread from where the sphere struck it.  Cracks formed in the amber.  Seeing the guardian fracture, Beldin kicked upwards with his feet.  

The amber lion collapsed into chunks.  A scroll fell to Beldin’s feet. He tossed it to Sebastian.

Sebastian read it: “To Those Who Would Be Free: The secret that will break the curse surrounding Castle Ambrose and lift the gray mist is engraved on the inside lid of Aldones Stephen Ambrose’s casket. To summon King Aldones’ tomb from beyond space and time, four magical items are needed. The four items, The Enchanted Sword of Sylaire, The Viper Circled Mirror, The Ring of Eibon, and a potion of time travel, can all be found in Carcosa, our old homeland. Touch ring to viper’s tail. Anoint the sword with the potion. Shatter the mirror with the sword, and King Aldones’ tomb will appear. Search first for the Gate of the Silver Keys.” Sebastian looked up.  “There are some scribbled notes as well.”

“Guess we know what to do next.”  Vlad stepped over to a keyhole.  “Hope Kham is on the other side.”

Beldin walked over to a keyhole.  “Hope SOMETHING is on the other side.”

Sebastian took a position at the last keyhole.  “All together now.  One, two, three.”

They turned the keys in the locks.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 18 – The Inn of Bonne Jouissance*

Thanks to Sebastian’s spell, he seemed entirely normal to the locals at the nearby inn.  He looked like his old self, when they had first met him, sans wings.  The other guests, a couple of traveling mercers, a notary, and two soldiers, acknowledged their presence with all due civility. Beldin, on the other hand, drew rude stares.

Vlad cleared his throat.  “I’d like to introduce Beldin Soulforge, the key attraction to our traveling circus!”

There was a collective sigh of relief.  Some patrons came closer.

Beldin glared at Vlad.  “Am I some kind of circus freak now?”

Vlad chuckled nervously.  “Of course!  Why else would we be in a crowded inn where nobody knows us?”

“What does he do?” asked one local.

“He tosses men, of course!” Vlad said theatrically.

Beldin cracked his knuckles.  “Want a demonstration?”

The local was undeterred and more than a little drunk.  “Sure.”

Vlad pushed the man gently away.  “Trust me, you don’t.”

After a couple of drinks at the bar, they moved to a table to talk in private.

“From what I can gather,” began Sebastian, “we are in the Inn of Bonne Jouissance.  It lays on a road to Hastur and Alar.  Hastur, Yhtill and Alar are the three major cities here, with Hastur being the capital.”

Beldin grunted.  He was still unhappy about his role as a circus freak.  “Those names match up with the notes on the scroll.  What about Sylaire?”

“As in the sword, right.”  Vlad sighed.  “It’s due east of here.  Sylaire is supposedly inhabited by an evil lamia that seduces men.”

“Let’s go.”  Sebastian was about to cast a spell when Vlad grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t.” He looked around.

“Why not?” 

“Arcane magic is an offense punishable by death.”

Sebastian dropped his hands at his sides.  “Then I guess we’re walking to Sylaire.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 19a – The Enchanted Sword of Sylaire*

The area around Sylaire was brown, open moor studded with druidic stone pillars. Sebastian patiently explained that Sylaire was both the name of the ruined castle and the name of an enchanted land. 

They jogged across a grassy field, halting under the eaves of a forest of tall and shapely trees: lichen and moss cover them. Leaves twirled down to the earth.

“Stay close,” said Sebastian. “They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods, a witch of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Beldin snorted. “Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!”

The path into the enchanted land led through a stone arch. Beyond the arch the trees were larger and greener than those in Carcosa. Even the seasons seemed different, as the sun shined longer and winter seemed very far away. They climbed a winding way among the great trees as the last rays of evening sun stream through their trunks. They ascended the path until night fell. 

In the enchanted land only one high, round tower stood where the mighty castle of Sylaire once was. In the blue glow of a moonlit night, they climbed a twisting stair at the bottom of a tower, past glimmering lights of silver and blue. Far above, the silhouetted shapes of the shadowy tree-branches loomed. 

A curving walkway lay before them, leading up a low stair to an archway. Three-pronged, golden leaves were scattered about. Slowly, they gathered before the arch. With a glow issuing forth from her, a Lady descended to meet them. 

Thick-curling chestnut hair, bound by a light silver fillet, billowed over her shoulders and burned to red, living gold where the sunrays searched it out through the foliage. Hung about her neck, a light golden chain seemed to reflect the luster of her hair. She wore a bodice of vernal green velvet, baring the upper slopes of her breasts, clung tightly about her as a lover's embrace. A purple velvet gown, flowered with pale azure and crimson, molded itself to the sinuous outlines of her hips and legs. Her slender feet were enclosed in fine soft leather buskins, scarlet-dyed, with tips curling pertly upward. 

Vlad and Beldin stared in awe. Sebastian bowed his head in greeting.

The light dimmed, and the Lady Sephora halted before them. Her eyes focused on Sebastian. “The Unspeakable One knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Three there are here, yet four there were, set out from Ambrose Castle. Tell me, where is Kham?”

Sephora read the answer in Vlad’s eyes. 

“Kham did not pass the borders of this land.” Her voice fell in sorrow. “He has fallen into shadow.”

Vlad nodded slightly. 

“He was taken by the black lotus,” said Sebastian.  “For we went needlessly into the net of Carcosa.”

Beldin bowed his head. 

“Needless were none of the deeds of Kham in life,” said Sephora. “We do not yet know his whole purpose. Do not let the great emptiness of Carcosa fill your heart, Beldin, apprentice of Elabac.”

Beldin looked up at her words.

“For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief. A werewolf stalks Sylaire.  Destroy it, and I will give you what you seek.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 19b – The Enchanted Sword of Sylaire*

Sephora gave them careful instructions that would enable to find the werewolf's den without delay. It was easy to locate the den, for well-used paths ran toward it with little deviation. The place was the mounded remnant of a tower that had crumbled down into grassy earth and mossy blocks. The entrance had once been a lofty doorway: now it was only a hole, such as a large animal would make in leaving and returning to its burrow.

Light poured through several apertures, latticed with wandering tree-roots, where the mound had fallen in. The place was a cavern rather than a room. It stank with carrion remnants. The ground was littered with bones, broken stems and leaves of plants, and shattered or rusted vessels of alchemic use. A verdigris-eaten kettle hung from a tripod above ashes and ends of charred faggots. Rain-sodden grimoires lay moldering in rusty metal covers. The three-legged ruin of a table was propped against the wall. In one corner was a litter of dead grass. The strong, rank odor of a wild beast mingled with the carrion stench.

Beldin and Vlad entered.  Sebastian launched himself into the yawning cavern’s heights.

A billowing cloud of mist engulfed them.

“Magic!” snarled Vlad.  

From out of the mists bounded white wolves the size of men.  Their icy cold breath scorched both warriors.  Vlad struck one and was rewarded with a yelp.  Then they retreated back into the fog.

“We can’t keep this up,” said Beldin to the heavens.  “On the next attack, do it.”

Vlad nodded, holding Grungronazharr before him.  “I’m ready.”

Before the wolves could strike again, time a blast of flames exploded all around them.  Vlad and Beldin were unharmed.

“That cleared the terrain a bit,” said Beldin.  

“That wasn’t me!” came Sebastian’s voice from above.

Bounding out of the fog came a creature even larger than the wolves themselves.  It had white fur, but it loped in a poor imitation of a man.  Blue flames shimmered from its hide.

Beldin lashed out, only to drop Windcutter in pain as the flames shot up the haft of his axe.  “He’s protected somehow!”

Vlad struck out at the werewolf, but the results were the same.  

The werewolf howled, and the other three wolves joined it.  

“Now Sebastian!” shouted Vlad.

More flames blasted the terrain, the wolves, and the two warriors.  The fire sent the winter wolves scurrying, but the werewolf was relentless.  It grabbed Vlad by the throat and hurled him across the clearing.

Beldin advanced on the lycanthrope, but before he could close it unleashed a bolt of lightning.  Beldin was knocked backwards from the jolt.

The werewolf howled again, but this time in pain.  A sizzling hole burned through its shoulder, an orb of acid cast by Sebastian somewhere in the depths of the cavern’s ceiling. It turned and surged toward Vlad…

The mad werewolf sprang as if hurled from a catapult, and his red, open gorge was spitted on the out-thrust point. Vlad’s hand was jarred on Grungronazharr’s hilt, and the shock drove him backward. The werewolf fell thrashing at Vlad’s feet. Its jaws had clenched on the blade. The point protruded beyond the stiff bristles of his neck.

Vlad tugged vainly with Grungronazharr. Then the furred body ceased to thrash — and the blade came easily. It had been withdrawn from the sagging mouth of the dead ancient sorcerer, Malachie du Marais, which lay before Vlad on the flagstones. 

They returned Malachie’s dripping head to Sephora’s tower. The light of early morning set the leaves of the trees on fire with a blazing yellow. The sunlight streamed through the trees, but beneath their great trunks the land was yet dark, cast in blue. 

“Every league you travel north, the danger will increase,” said Sephora. “Nor will you find safety in Yhtill. By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Alar. And now, as promised…” Sephora extended a silver blade to Vlad.

“My gift for you, Vlad, is the enchanted sword of Sylaire, our most powerful weapon.  Use it wisely.”

They left wordlessly, enchanted by Sephora’s mere presence.  

“Farewell,” she waved after them. “There is much you have left to do.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 20 – The Potion of Time Travel*

Sebastian’s negotiating skill and disguise eventually enabled them to find a black market contact in Alar.  They were to meet the contact behind an alley, a seller of potions who was willing to risk the Inquisition for a gold piece.

Beldin and Vlad flanked Sebastian as they stood over a barrel with an open flame.  It was the only light source nearby, illuminating Sebastian’s sharp features as he waited.

A cloaked figure slid out of the darkness.  “I am here.”

Sebastian looked around. “No guards?  Security seems very tight in Alar.”

“The Immemorial City has suffered much as of late,” whispered the contact.  “A curse is raging that animates the dead. It’s worse in Hastur,” his white smile indicated that he very much enjoyed that fact.  “Thanks to the Inquisition, we have put a stop to such animations.”

“Yes, about that.  I trust this place is safe for our…particular form of trade.”

“It is,” said the man.  “You listed a variety of potions.  I have them all.  You have the gold?”

“I do.”  Sebastian nodded to Beldin, who thrust a bag full of doubloons and imperials at the man.  

The contact exchanged a bag with Beldin. It clinked with the sound of potion vials within. “Healing, strength of a bull, and more.  It’s all there.”

Beldin handed the bag back to Sebastian.  He rifled through its contents.  “The potion of time travel is missing.”  

The man smiled.  “I saved the best for last.  Tell me, Stranger.  Do you know the sentence for those who practice arcane magicks?”

Sebastian took a step back.  “I do.” 

Beldin and Vlad raised their weapons. 

The man threw off his cloak just as bright lights illuminated them. Beneath his cloak was an old man with white hair and piercing eyes, dressed in bright yellow armor.  “Heathens!  Know that you stand in the presence of Elhalyn, Grand Inquisitor of Alar!  You’ll not animate any undead this night!”

With a shrug, Sebastian shed his magical disguise, revealing his true self.  The Inquisitors gasped in fear.

The dark-kin spread his wings wide.  “I am no mere necromancer, fool!  I am the Phantom of Truth!  Do you dare deny me what I seek?”

Elhalyn looked startled, but he held firm.  “It was Alar that sent you!  You dare to defy us?”

“I dare,” boomed Sebastian, “because I have come from Hastur to seek out the traitor in your midst.  There is someone here,” he looked around, stopping at Elhalyn, “who worships the Old Gods.  One of you is a heretic.”

The Inquisitors stared at each other. Sebastian slowly raised an arm, about to point at the source of heresy.

“Enough!”  Elhalyn reached into his robes.  “If you are indeed the Phantom of Truth, then you know that the vials I gave you are merely colored water. Let us shake and be done with charade, so that you may leave the honest and pure to their tasks.”

Sebastian took his hand.  Elhalyn slipped a vermilion vial from his cuff into Sebastian’s palm as he did so.

“A mushy hand, as was foretold,” said Elhalyn softly.  “He really is the Phantom of Truth.”

The Inquisitors drew back.  Sebastian pointed at them all.  “The dead King hunts and eats the gods.  The skies are darkened, the bones of the earth-god tremble, the planets are stilled, and the Hyades made cold.  For they have seen the King, appearing in his power, the dead king who hunts and eats the world.”

Elhalyn and his Inquisitors doused their lights and disappeared into the darkness. 

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” said Beldin.

“Believe it,” said Sebastian.  “Elhalyn is a cultist of the Unspeakable One, masquerading as their Chief Inquisitor so that he can ferret out his rivals and steal their power, in much the same way I extorted him into handing over the potion of time travel.”

“Wow, maybe you really are the Phantom of Truth!” exclaimed Vlad.

“Who said I’m not?” asked Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 21 – The Ring of Eibon*

To Sebastian there came privily the marshal of Alar, together with the abbot Theophile, whose worn features and bowed form displayed the ravages of mortal sorrow and horror and humiliation. And the two, albeit with palpable hesitancy, asked Sebastian advice and assistance in the laying of the beast.

"You, Phantom," said the marshal, "are reputed to know the arcanic arts of sorcery, and the spells which summon and dismiss demons. Therefore, in dealing with this devil, it may be that you shall succeed where all others have failed. Not willingly do we employ you in the matter, since it is not seemly for the church and the law to ally themselves with wizardry. But the need is desperate, lest the demon should take other victims. In return for your aid we can promise you the Ring of Eibon that you seek. The Bishop of Alar, and the Archbishop of Hastur, are privy to this offer, which must be kept secret."

"That will suffice," replied Sebastian, "if it be in my power to rid Yhtill of this scourge. But you have set me a difficult task, and one that is haply attended by strange perils."

"All assistance that can be given you shall be yours to command," said the marshal. "Men-at-arms shall attend you, if need be."

“All doors, including those of the abbey of Yhtill, will be opened at your request,” said Theophile in a low, broken voice. “Everything possible will be done to further the laying of the fiend.”

Sebastian requested two stout horses, which the marshal was able to procure presently.  Vlad and Beldin rode forth from Alar toward Yhtill, taking a direct and little-used way that ran through the werewolf-haunted forest. Sebastian flew over the treetops. 

Swiftly they rode, while the sun sank in a redness as of welling blood among the tall trees; and soon the darkness wove its thickening webs from bough to bough, closing upon them like some inexorable net of evil. Deeper they went, into the brooding woods; and even Sebastian, the master of sorceries, trembled a little at the knowledge of all that was abroad in the darkness.

Undelayed and unmolested, however, they came to the abbey at late moonrise, when all the monks, except the aged porter, had retired to their dormitory. The abbot returning at sunset from Alar, had given word to the porter of their coming, and he would have admitted them; but this, as it happened, was no part of Sebastian’s plan. 

“I have reason to believe the Beast will re-enter the abbey tonight,” said Sebastian told the porter. “We will wait outside the walls to intercept it.”

After committing Vlad and Beldin’s mounts to the porter's care, they returned to the space before Theophile's window and began their long watch.

Pale and hollow as the face of a corpse, the moon rose higher, swimming above the somber oaks, and pouring spectral silver on the gray stone of the abbey walls. In the west the comet flamed among the lusterless signs, veiling the lifted sting of the Scorpion as it sank.

They waited hour by hour in the shortening shadow of a tall oak, where none could see us from the windows. When the moon had passed over, sloping westward, the shadow began to lengthen toward the wall. All was mortally still, and they saw no movement, apart from the slow shifting of the light and shade. Halfway between midnight and dawn the taper went out in Theophile's cell, as if it had burned to the socket; and thereafter the room remained dark.

Unquestioning, with ready weapons, Vlad and Beldin stood by Sebastian’s side in the vigil. Well they knew the demonian terror that they might face before dawn; but there was no trepidation in their bearing. 

The warriors stood nearer than Sebastian to the forest, facing it perpetually according to a strict order that he had given. But nothing stirred in the fretted gloom; and the slow night ebbed; and the skies grew paler, as if with morning twilight. Then, an hour before sunrise, when the shadow of the great oak had reached the wall and was climbing toward Theophile's window, there came the thing Sebastian had anticipated. Very suddenly it came, and without forewarning of its nearness, a horror of hellish red light, swift as a kindling, wind-blown flame, that leapt from the forest gloom and sprang upon them where they stood, still and weary from their night-long vigil.

Beldin was borne to the ground, and Sebastian saw above him, in a floating redness as of ghostly blood, the black and semi-serpentine form of the Beast. A flat and snakish head, without ears or nose, was tearing at Beldin’s armor with sharp, serrated teeth. The teeth clashed and grated on the linked iron. 

Sebastian cast a spell, blasting the Beast with a bolt of energy. The Beast relinquished Beldin on the ground beneath it, and writhed back like a burnt serpent. The body and members of the Beast were loathfully convulsed, and they seemed to melt in the manner of wax and to change dimly and horribly beneath the flame, undergoing an incredible metamorphosis. Moment by moment, like a werewolf that returns from its beasthood, the thing took on the wavering similitude of man. The unclean blackness flowed and swirled, assuming the weft of cloth amid its changes, and becoming the folds of a dark robe and cowl. Then, from the cowl, a face began to peer, and the face, though shadowy and distorted, was that of the abbot Theophile.

Vlad, who had yet to join in the fight, turned suddenly. Vlad struggled mightily as the beast threatened to overcome him.  First he shuddered towards Beldin, then towards Sebastian, lifting and then lowering his blade, sweat dripping from his brow.  The Beast sought to control the Milandisian when it could not reach the dark-kin’s mind, but mighty Vlad fought it with all of his being.  Gathering his will, Vlad shook off the effects and struck back at the thing with his blade.

The face melted again into waxy blackness, and a great column of sooty smoke arose, followed by an odor as of burning flesh commingled with some might foulness. And out of the volumed smoke there came a single cry in the voice of Theophile. At last, the sable fumes began to lift, ascending and disappearing amid the boughs, and a dancing golden light; in the shape of a will-o'-the-wisp, went soaring over the dark trees toward the stars. 

The stench of burning passed from the air, together with the mighty foulness; and of what had been the Beast there was no longer any trace. Beldin rose, unharmed beneath his mail, and he and Vlad stood beside Sebastian, saying naught. 

“The Beast came upon us unaware,” reported Sebastian to the other monks. “It gained the abbot's cell before we could prevent it, and had come forth again, carrying Theophile with its snakish members as if to bear him away to the sunken comet. I exorcised the unclean devil, which had vanished in a cloud of sulfurous fire and vapor; and, most unluckily, the fire had consumed the abbot. His death is a true martyrdom, and will not be in vain: the Beast will no longer plague the country or bedevil Yhtill; the exorcism I used is infallible.”

The Brothers, who grieved mightily for their good abbot, accepted this tale without question. And for his efforts Sebastian was granted the Ring of Eibon.

The ring had come down from ancient Hyperborea, and had once been the property of the sorcerer Eibon. It was made of a redder gold than any that the earth had yielded in latter cycles, and was set with a large purple gem, somber and smoldering, whose like was no longer to be found. In the gem an antique demon was held captive, a spirit from prehuman worlds, which would answer the interrogation of sorcerers.

“Do you think they would believe the truth?” asked Beldin.

“Thin is the veil betwixt man and the godless deep,” said Sebastian. “The skies are haunted by that which it were madness to know; and strange abominations pass evermore between earth and moon and athwart the galaxies. Unnameable things have come to them in alien horror and will come again. And the evil of the stars is not as the evil of Carcosa.”

“Ever since you’ve started wearing that mask, you talk very strangely,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 22 – The Viper-Encircled Mirror*

There were strange and disastrous portents in the aspect of the skies: flame-bearded meteors had been seen to fall beyond the eastern hills; a comet far in the south had swept the stars with its luminous bosom for a few nights, and had then faded, leaving among men the prophecy of bale and pestilence to come. By day the air was oppressed and sultry, and the blue heavens were heated as if by whitish fires. Clouds of thunder, darkling and withdrawn, shook their fulgurant lances on the far horizons, like some beleaguering Titan army. A murrain, such as would come from the working of wizard spells, was abroad among the cattle. All these signs and prodigies were an added heaviness on the burdened spirits of men, who went to and fro in daily fear of the hidden preparations and machinations of hell.

In Hastur, tales of the grave giving up its sheeted dead were rife.  They were admitted without question by the guards at the city gate. Hastur was already thronged with people who had fled to the sanctuary of its stout walls from the adjacent countryside; and no one, not even of the most dubious character, was denied admittance. The walls were lined with archers and pike-bearers, gathered in readiness to dispute the entrance of the dead. Crossbowmen were stationed above the gates, and mangonels were mounted at short intervals along the entire circuit of the ramparts. The city seethed and hummed like an agitated hive.

Hysteria and pandemonium prevailed in the streets. Pale, panic-stricken faces milled everywhere in an aimless stream. Hurrying torches flared dolorously in the twilight that deepened as if with the shadow of impending wings arisen from Erebus. The gloom was clogged with intangible fear, with webs of stifling oppression. Through all this rout of wild disorder and frenzy, Hali, like a spent but indomitable swimmer breasting some tide of eternal, viscid nightmare, made his way slowly to the podium. 

“I am Hali,” he told the crowd.  “And I was a pupil of Nathaire, the necromancer who animated the colossus that even now ravages our land. Nathaire binds and hurls into the bitter depths of the Black Lake certain victims, such as were designated to feed the hunger of Him That Slept Beneath. And I believe those who constitute the body of the colossus are the same that were fed to the Thing in the Lake. I have a solution, a powder that I have crafted that will cause the dead to return peacefully to their tombs and lay down in a renewed slumber of death.”

There was a mounting hubbub in the streets, and above the shrill, dismal clamor of frightened voices, the far-off roaring of the giant. Hali shouted louder to be heard.

“The dust must be blown into the beast’s face.  I have enough for three attempts.  Who will take up this challenge?”

Sebastian stepped forward.  “We will.” 

They had no time to lose if they were to post themselves in a place of vantage from which they could throw Hali’s powder into the nostrils of the hundred-foot colossus. The city walls and even most of the church spires, were not lofty enough for this purpose. But the great cathedral, standing at the core of Hastur, was the one place from whose roof they could front the invader with success. 

It was a certainty that the men-at-arms on the walls could do little to prevent the monster from entering and wreaking his malevolent will. No earthly weapon could injure a being of such bulk and nature; for even a cadaver of normal size, reared up in this fashion, could be shot full of arrows or transfixed by a dozen pikes without retarding its progress.

Hastily Sebastian filled a huge leather pouch with the powder; and carrying the pouch at his belt, he joined the agitated press of people in the street. Many were fleeing towards the cathedral, to seek the shelter of its august sanctity; and he had only to let himself be borne along by the frenzy-driven stream.

The cathedral nave was packed with worshipers, and priests whose voices faltered at times with inward panic were saying solemn masses. Unheeded by the wan, despairing throng, they found a flight of coiling stairs that led tortuously to the gargoyle-warded roof of the high tower.

Here Beldin and Sebastian posted, crouching behind the stone figure of a cat-headed griffin. They could see, beyond the crowded spires and gables, the approaching giant, whose head and torso loomed above the city walls. 

The limbs were rounded into bossed, enormous thews, like the limbs of giants; the flanks were like an insuperable wall; the deltoids of the mighty chest were broad as platform; the hands could have crushed the bodies of men like millstones.... But the face of the stupendous monster, seen in profile athwart the pouring moon, was the face of the Nathaire — re-magnified a hundred times, but the same in its implacable madness and malevolence!

A cloud of arrows, visible even at that distance, rose to meet the monster, who apparently did not even pause to pluck them from his hide. Great boulders hurled from mangonels were no more to him than a pelting of gravel; the heavy bolts of arbalests, embedded in his flesh, were mere slivers.

Nothing could stay his advance. The tiny figures of a company of pikemen, who opposed him with out-thrust weapons, swept from the wall above the eastern gate by a single sidelong blow of the seventy-foot pine that he bore for a cudgel. Then, having cleared the wall, the colossus climbed over it into Hastur.

Roaring, chuckling, laughing like a maniacal Cyclops, he strode along the narrow streets between houses that rose only to his waist, trampling without mercy everyone who could not escape in time, and smashing in the roofs with stupendous blows of his bludgeon. With a push of his left hand he broke off the protruding gables, and overturned the church steeples with their bells clanging in dolorous alarm as they went down. A woeful shrieking and wailing of hysteria-laden voices accompanied his passing.

Straight towards the cathedral he came, as Sebastian had calculated, feeling that the high edifice would be made the special butt of his malevolence.

The streets were now emptied of people; but, as if to hunt them out and crush them in their hiding-places, the giant thrust his cudgel like a battering ram through walls and windows and roofs as he went by. The ruin and havoc that he left was indescribable.

Soon he loomed opposite the cathedral tower on which they waited behind the gargoyle. The colossus’ head was level with the tower, and its eyes flamed like wells of burning brimstone as it drew near. Its lips were parted over stalactitic fangs in a hateful snarl; and it cried out in a voice like the rumbling of articulate thunder:

"Ho! Ye puling priests and devotees of a powerless God! Come forth and bow to Nathaire the master, before he sweeps you into limbo!"

An insupportable terror seized Sebastian. He sought to move, but found he could not.  It was then that Beldin, with hardihood beyond comparison, rose from his hiding-place and stood in full view of the raging colossus.

"Draw nearer, Nathaire, if indeed it be you, foul robber of tombs and charnels," he taunted. "Come close, for I would hold speech with you."

A monstrous look of astonishment dimmed the diabolic rage on the colossal features. Peering at Beldin as if in doubt or incredulity, the giant lowered his lifted cudgel and stepped close to the tower, till his face was only a few feet from the intrepid dwarf. 

Then, when he had apparently convinced himself of Beldin’s identity, the look of maniacal wrath returned, flooding his eyes with fire and twisting his lineaments into a mask of malignity. His left arm came up in a prodigious arc, with twitching fingers that poised horribly above the head of the dwarf, casting upon him a vulture-black shadow in the full-risen sun. Beldin saw the white, startled faces of the necromancer's pupils, peering over his shoulder from their plank-built basket.

"Is that you, Stranger?" the colossus roared stormily. "I thought you were rotting in the Castle Ambrose — and now I find you perched atop of this accursed cathedral which I am about to demolish! ... You had been far wiser to remain trapped in the mists."

His breath, as he spoke, blew like a charnel-polluted gale on the student. His vast fingers, with blackened nails like shovelblades, hovered in ogreish menace.  With his eyes so focused on Beldin in the cathedral, Nathaire’s colossus did not expect the arrival of Vlad, held aloft by the magic of the Sword of Sylaire.   As the twitching fingers descended towards Beldin, Vlad emptied the contents of the pouch in the giant's face as he flew, and the fine powder, mounting in a dark-gray cloud, obscured the snarling lips and palpitating nostrils from his view.

Anxiously they watched the effect, fearing that the powder might be useless after all, against the superior arts and diabolical resources of Nathaire. But miraculously, as it seemed, the evil lambence died in the pit-deep eyes, as the monster inhaled the flying cloud. His lifted hand, narrowly missing the crouching dwarf in its sweep, fell lifelessly at his side. The anger was erased from the mighty, contorted mask, as if from the face of a dead man; the great cudgel fell with a crash to the empty street; and with drowsy, lurching steps, and listless, hanging arms, the giant turned his back to the cathedral and retraced his way through the devastated city.

“You,” Sebastian said to Vlad, recovering some of his composure, “are a true hero.”

The colossus muttered dreamily to itself as it went; and people who heard it swore that the voice was no longer the awful, thunderswollen voice of Nathaire, but the tones and accents of a multitude of men, amid which the voices of certain of the ravished dead were recognizable. And the voice of Nathaire himself, no louder now than in life, was heard at intervals through the manifold mutterings, as if protesting angrily.

Climbing the eastern wall as it had come, the colossus went to and fro for many hours, no longer wreaking a hellish wrath and rancor, but searching, as people thought, for the various tombs and graves from which the hundreds of bodies that composed it had been so foully reft. From charnel to charnel, from cemetery to cemetery it went, through all the land; but there was no grave anywhere in which the dead colossus could lie down.

Then, towards evening, men saw it from afar on the red rim of the sky, digging with its hands in the soft, loamy plain beside the river Isoile. There, in a monstrous and self-made grave, the colossus laid itself down, and did not rise again. The ten pupils of Nathaire, it was believed, unable to descend from their basket, were crushed beneath the mighty body; for none of them was ever seen thereafter.

“For your efforts, we bestow upon you the Viper-Encircled Mirror,” said Hali.  “Use it wisely.”


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 23 – The First Guardian*

Sebastian touched the Ring of Eibon to the viper’s tail on the mirror frame. The serpent uncoiled enough for the ring to slide over the tail. The ring then slowly moved up the viper’s body until it circled the head like a collar. The viper’s tail was once again gripped its mouth.

Vlad anointed the Enchanted Sword of Sylaire with the potion of time travel. The blade glowed bright gold. Then he touched it to the mirror. 

There was a high-pitched humming. The mirror, ring and sword shattered into thousands of shards.

The healing amber haze surrounded them once more. The world of Carcosa faded away and they found themselves on a seemingly endless plain. A massive, square, fifty-foot tall tomb made of amber colored marble stood before them. 

Carved over the entrance was the name “Aldones Stephen Ambrose.” On the door was painted the Ambrose family crest; A black shield with a gold phoenix. An amber crown was painted above the crest.

“This is it,” said Sebastian.  “This is his tomb.”

Fortified by every potion, protective spell, and wand Sebastian had in his possession, he looked over his shoulder at the two warriors.  “Ready?”

“Ready,” said Beldin, hefting Windcutter.

“Ready,” said Vlad, wielding Grungronazharr.

Sebastian threw open the doors.  To his horror, sleeping on a pile of coins was a dragon with black scales.

They didn’t wait for it to rouse.  Sebastian unleashed a furious blast of flames as the two fighters circled it from both sides.  The black dragon roared in pain and shock and then quickly retaliated, firing a blast of acid that nearly melted Vlad’s shield.

Beldin struck at one of its forelimbs.  The dragon reared up, flapping its wings. One claw nearly decapitated the dwarf.

Sebastian stayed at the doorway.  He unleashed a stream of floating translucent yellow jaws that assailed the dragon at every turn. 

More acid sprayed in an arc as the dragon lashed out blindly.  Vlad dove to the side as a whipping tail cracked the solid rock where he stood.  

Finally, it was over.  With a shrill wail, the dragon’s head hit the ground. 

“We’re lucky it was asleep,” said Beldin.  “That was a young one.”

Vlad seemed proud.  “Our first dragon.” 

“There are many more guardians,” said Sebastian.  “It may not be our last.” 

They went through the left-hand door.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 24 – Fire and the Second Guardian*

Flames leaped and crackled off the walls and ceiling of the long corridor. 

“Are we in hell?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian shook his head.  “Another guardian’s lair.  It looks like it is possible to walk down the corridor without getting burned as long as you stay in the center of the hallway where the heat is least. My magic will protect you from the rest.”

Beldin and Vlad nodded and advanced ahead of him.  It was difficult to hear each other over the roaring of the flames.

As they neared the end of the corridor, the flames coalesced into a massive conflagration with yellow eyes.

“Elemental!” shouted Sebastian.

Beldin struck at the thing, but Windcutter sliced right through the flames.  

Sebastian lifted one hand and a sphere of cold appeared in his palm.  “This should help!”  He threw it, and a great blast of superheated mist billowed up where the ice hit the elemental.

The elemental surged forward, the superheated flames causing the edge of Beldin’s shield to begin to melt.

“I’ve got it!”  Vlad thrust his flame-quenching blade, Grungronazharr, into the heart of the elemental.  With a shriek, the flames abruptly went out all around them.

“Everyone all right?” asked Sebastian.

Beldin nodded.  “Just a little singed.”

Sebastian counted to three and opened the next door.

A fourteen-foot tall giant thrust its club through the doorway, slamming Sebastian backwards back into the flame-filled hallway.

“Giant!” growled Beldin.  “He’s mine!”

The dwarf barreled into the room, rolling beneath the stone giant’s clumsy swing.  It had gray, rock-like skin and wielded a large stalactite as a club. 

Wham!  The giant swung the stalactite downwards where Beldin had been a moment before.  The dwarf rolled to his feet and swung Windcutter in a wide arc, slashing the giant’s left calf.  It roared in pain but swung again.

WHAM!  Cracks appeared from the impact, but it just missed the dwarf.  He rolled to the other side of the giant and came up again; with the same motion, Beldin hacked into the giant’s ankle.

Bellowing in agony, the giant collapsed to one knee.  Beldin bashed the stone giant’s kneecap.  As it fell, he struck it in the face, splitting its head in twain.

Sebastian joined them.

“He used to BE a giant, right?” Vlad asked Sebastian.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 25 – Earth and The Third Guardian*

“Down!” shouted Vlad.

Foot-long spikes jutted through his shield.  A man-faced lion with bat wings and a spiked tail paced before them.

“Manticore,” said Sebastian.  

“Now you tell us,” said Beldin.  A spike protruded from his shoulder. 

With a roar, the manticore batted Beldin’s shield aside, forcing the dwarf to backpedal. Sebastian drove it back with a blast of fire from his hands.

Vlad threw his shield down, useless with all the spikes protruding from it, and wielded Grungronazharr with both hands.  “Come on then!”

The manticore hesitated.  Then it bounded forward, wings spread wide.

Vlad slid under its paws as it passed, thrusting his blade upwards.  The manticore’s forward motion eviscerated it.  It landed, all too human-like face twisted in agony before Sebastian.

Beldin yanked the spike out of his shoulder and opened the door to the right.  

“Great,” said Vlad.

The hallway was filled with mud.

Beldin stepped out onto the surface.  Thanks to Cho Sun’s ring, he didn’t sink.

Sebastian flapped his way in, hovering aloft. 

With a deep sigh, Vlad waded into the muck, waist deep.

Beldin paused.  “I may be able to help.”  He concentrated, and the mud sluiced to either side, providing a sticky but firmer path to the door at the far end of the hallway.

“Careful,” said Sebastian.  “It won’t be that easy.”

Like the fire elemental before, the mud on either side of the hallway suddenly collapsed together to form vaguely humanoid shape with dark mud for eyes.  

Sebastian was ready.  He blasted it with flames, but the magic dissipated harmlessly off of it. 

“Mud golem!” he said.  “It has to be.”

There was a moment where the mud golem loomed over Vlad.  Then he disappeared inside it as the thing engulfed him.

Sebastian started an incantation and stopped.  “I may hurt him!”

Beldin growled.  “You want to eat somebody?  Eat me!”  

The dwarf easily ducked beneath the golem’s clumsy swing as he charged straight into the thing’s body.  With a ferocious body slam, Beldin knocked Vlad out the back of the golem, taking his place.

Vlad sputtered.  “What the hell did he do that for? I had it under control!”

The golem suddenly froze. Its ballooned outwards as large bubbles appeared in the mud that constitutes its body.  Then it burst, spattering everyone with mud. Beldin stood unharmed with arms outstretched in the center.

“Thanks, Cho Sun,” muttered Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Part 26 – The Fourth Guardian*

Sebastian opened the door, only to be assailed by multiple gouts of flame.

“Hydra!” shouted Sebastian.  He flew into the room.

The reddish hydra’s heads tracked all three of them as they entered.  Six maws gnashed and snapped.

Beldin waited as one head tried to snake around his shield.  Then with a quick strike, he decapitated it.

Two more heads grew out of the wound.

“Damn it!” shouted the dwarf.

Sebastian flapped backwards.  He didn’t have much height in the rooms, but it was enough to stay out of the hydra’s reach.  “It breathes fire, so we can’t stop the regeneration that way…”

Vlad held his blade up before him as three gouts of flame raked where he stood.  The fire bounced harmlessly off of him.

Sebastian lifted one hand. A green sphere appeared in his open palm. “But acid should do nicely.”

He threw it at the base of the hydra’s body, where the five heads were joined.  It shrieked in pain and two of the necks sizzled right off of it.

“Keep it busy!” shouted Sebastian.

“I thought we were!” shouted Beldin.  He rolled to the side as two heads tried to bite him from different angles.  Vlad took up the defense, bashing one of the hydra’s head in the snout with his shield.

Another orb of acid struck the beast and another head fell.  With just two heads left, the hydra divided its attention between the two warriors.

Sebastian’s third vitreous orb struck, between the nape of the two necks.  The body stumbled blindly for a moment before laying still.

“I’m getting sick of these guardians,” muttered Beldin.  He kicked the door open.


----------



## talien

*Castle Ambrose: Conclusion*

In the center of this room was an ornate mahogany casket. The casket rested on a raised dais. A silver candelabra and an iron brazier stood at the head and feet of the casket. The candelabra held burning amber candles, and perfumed smoke rose from the brazier. A large tapestry covered all the wall space, depicting the murder of Aldones by Camilla.

Carved into the inside lid of the casket were the words “Burn the tapestry to break my curse”. A skeleton wearing a crown of gold lay inside the casket. 

Sebastian set fire to the tapestry.

A man dressed in rich yellow robes and wearing a golden crown and other fine jewelry suddenly appeared, stepping out of the smoke and ashes. 

“Aldones Stefan Ambrose.” Beldin recognized him from the last time they met in Freeport.

Aldones stretched and said, “Thanks, I’ve been trapped in there for ages.” 

The tomb disappeared and they were back outside of the Cresh House in Freeport. 

“And thus the war between the masked men and the naked is at an end,” said Aldones.  “The King in Yellow has come again to Carcosa…and failed to come to Arcanis, as was foretold. There was much that needed to be undone, which you have completed and by doing so, reforged the Covenant of the Sign.”

“So it’s really over?” asked Vlad.  “The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign?  The Unspeakable One?  All that?”

Aldones smiled.  “We have triumphed in the war.  And thus I am the inheritor of the King in Yellow, and have reclaimed the Dynasty.” He turned to Sebastian. “The price was the fixing of the mask.  And you have paid it.”

Sebastian reached hesitantly for the mask on his face.  “I can…remove it?”

“You could always remove it, poor tortured Sebastian.”  

Sebastian removed the mask.  He handed it to Aldones.  

“Although you may not fully understand, you all had a part to play.  Hastur, Yhtill, and Alar, and indeed all of Carcosa, were corrupt.  The King in Yellow needed Arcanis to change it; he needed his Stranger, his Phantom of Truth.  And you played your parts well.”

“But all the madness and suffering…” began Beldin.

Aldones nodded his head sadly.  “The King in Yellow is our god, but he is an incomprehensible being. Your world, when exposed to ours, goes mad.  And the converse is true…it is why I was not myself when we first met. All I knew is that I had to get back to Carcosa.”

“And what of our friend?” asked Vlad.

A slight grin crept across Aldones’ lips.  “They’re sleeping behind you.  It was thanks to Kham that our world exists at all.  He dreamed it up, after all, and it was his dreams that helped you succeed—he sent you the amber glow that healed your wounds.”

“They?” Sebastian turned around.  Slumbering peacefully in the alley was Kham, Drak Scarbelly, Rask, and Prolk. 

“All those who did not belong in Carcosa have been released.” Aldones became more serious. “Be warned, that includes some who may not be so grateful.”

Sebastian nodded.  “And what of you?”

“I will return to build my world.  Even now, it is returning to what it once was.  I am the father of all in Hastur.  Carcosa will no longer be necessary, until in due course of starwheels we lose our way again.”  He paused.  “But for your travails I will bestow one wish on each of you. Step forward.”

They looked at each other.  Sebastian stepped forward.

“Sebastian Arnyal, when you first sought to lead the King in Yellow away from Arcanis, you planned to take him to hell with you.  But you are a whole person, Sebastian, not a half-breed.  And by sacrificing yourself, you proved that you are more man than devil.  And yet, you are what you are.  Do you wish me to make you human?”

Sebastian blinked.  “No.  I…I like who I am.”

“As well you should.  Do not be ashamed of who you are; I know you loathe those feathers.  Fortunately, they are mere props for our play.  Shake them off.”

Sebastian looked hesitantly over his shoulder.  Then he concentrated and unfurled his wings.  The feathers fell off of it, as if they had been glued to him.

Vlad stepped forward next.  

“Vlad Martell, you fought heedlessly without concern for your own safety.  You slew the colossus and countless other foes.  You already have a powerful sword, but it shall be even more powerful still. You will find that it will now warn you of traps before you stumble through them and allow you to perceive invisible enemies before they stab you in the back.”

In its scabbard, Grungronazharr thrummed. 

“And you, Master Dwarf.  Please come forward.”

Beldin stepped forward.

“You are a defender of the weak, of the downtrodden, of the frail.  Your warm presence will protect your charges from cold hearts.  Your shield will be more powerful still.”  Beldin’s shield glowed with a bluish-white light.

He handed each of them a brooch, formed of black onyx with the Yellow Sign inscribed in gold.  “Keep this to remember me by. Now my time here is at an end,” said Aldones.  “And so the King in Yellow withdraws his protection of Arcanis…”

“Protection?” asked Sebastian, incredulous.  “Wasn’t it the Unspeakable One who started the war on our world?  A Valinor appeared and gave the Emperor his blessing to start a civil war. Thousands will die because of your so-called King!”

Aldones lowered his head.  “Alas, that was not His doing, but that of his half-brother, Leviathan.  Now that the King is leaving, his half-brother will extend his will upon Arcanis. Only the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign kept Leviathan’s minions in check. Beware…Leviathan has no play to complete, no purpose.  He only seeks to awaken, and when he rouses, all of Arcanis will shudder in his wake.” 

Thanking them again, Aldones spoke some arcane words and, with grand gestures, disappeared in a billow of smoke.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 57: Gangs of Freeport - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Freeport adventure “Gangs of Freeport” by Ari Marmell, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Some days, no matter how much I try to plan, things go awry. Whenever we don’t have enough players for the D&D game, my plan was to start up a D20 Modern game, which has a larger pool of players.  But of course, those folks weren’t available either.  So I figured I’d play D&D with the two fighters of our group.

Except that Beldin’s player didn’t show up either.  That left Vlad.

Vlad’s something of an everyman hero, and his player Matt is an old school gamer.  He likes to kill things and take their stuff.  And yet, Vlad is often underestimated because he’s “just a fighter.”  Vlad’s much more than that, and Matt demonstrates in this solo adventure that he can more than handle himself.  

I pulled few punches.  The bad guys play to win, but they play smart, and in a few cases some unexpected things happen.  I also applied rules I don’t always remember to use to the bad guys—the lack of Precise Shot when a spell caster attacks with a ray, for example.  That kept things in Vlad’s favor.

Ultimately, we both had a great time, and stalled long enough (the adventure took about five hours) until the other players could show up for the next adventure.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Prologue*

Sebastian, Beldin, and Vlad stood outside the vacant lot that had once been Cresh Manor.  Stephen Aldones Ambrose was gone and with him, the King in Yellow.  Behind them, Kham and Scarbelly’s crew were unconscious.

Vendors hawked their wares from street-side stalls while laborers lugged their burdens and barefoot children dashed around and between everyone’s legs, shrieking like tiny banshees. The sea air smelled of salt and old fish, and the lap of the tide against the docks—many blocks behind them—still reached their ears, the city’s constant heartbeat.

Sebastian turned to Vlad.  “The ring you hold is very powerful.  I can charge it for you, if you like.”

Vlad looked at his left ring finger, the same hand he used to hold his shield.  “It’s a strange sensation, knowing how to cast spells all of a sudden.”

Sebastian grabbed hold of Vlad’s hand and concentrated.  “There.  In your darkest hour, call upon the power of the ring and it will help you.”

Vlad nodded.  “Thanks.”

Sebastian didn’t smile.  He merely nodded.

Beldin barreled past them, shoving Sebastian aside.  “Get down!”

The dwarf wound up and bashed a barrel backwards.  It tumbled through the air, the swift-burning fuse sizzling.

Vlad turned and thrust Grungronazharr before him…

Then the explosion rocked tore through the intersection, sending Sebastian flying in one direction and Beldin in the other.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 1 – Rioting for Fun and Profit*

The explosion tore up half the street, tossing debris in all directions.  Vlad’s mind barely had time to register what had just happened when the whistling of crossbow bolts snapped him out of his stupor.

Two Freeporters, armed with cutlasses, charged out of the smoke towards him. Vlad hesitated as he realized that his friends were in danger, bleeding in the street.  If the thugs wanted to rob them or worse, he would only endanger his companions by staying where he was.

He ran.  The thugs gave chase, perceiving his tactics as flight.  More crossbow bolts punctured the wall behind him, some just missing his head.  

Finally, he came to the end of an alley and spun to face his assailants with his back to an old, rusted door. 

The thugs hesitated.  Then they advanced, grinning.

Vlad waited for their approach.  They were trying to flank him.  He edged forward a little bit, drawing one of the thugs towards him.

The thug took the bait.  He took a vicious swing at Vlad’s head.  Using his shield, Vlad knocked the blow aside and then sliced downwards, slashing the man’s thigh.  He howled and skipped backwards as the other thug moved in for the kill.  

Vlad let the blow bounce off his studded leather and then made the thug pay for it with his life.  Grungronazharr drank deeply from the man’s abdomen.

The other thug desperately slashed at Vlad’s legs, but he hopped backwards to avoid the blow.  Vlad hacked downwards, his heavy blade easily deflecting the cutlass.  Then he finished the second thug.

There was a stabbing pain in his left shoulder.  A crossbow bolt protruded from his armor. Vlad looked up.

Another attacker hung out a window a floor up, having just released the bolt from his crossbow.  Vlad turned towards the door and slammed into it…

Only to bounce off.  His whole body ached from the blow; the door wasn’t just locked, it was barred from the other side.  Of course it was, Vlad chided himself.  No Freeport home would leave a door unguarded. 

Another head poked out on the other side of the alley.  His tactics against melee assailants had turned the alley into a death trap.  They could fire on him with impunity.

The ring!  Vlad pointed at the door and concentrated.  The sound of shrieking metal, unaccustomed to being moved in years, echoed through the alley.  Then the door unlocked itself and opened.

Vlad kissed the Carcosan ring and charged through the doorway.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 2 – Just One of the Gang*

Vlad stood over the last corpse of the thugs who had ambushed him.  He was about to return to the street to help his friends when he sensed a presence in the room.

Standing half-concealed in the shadows was a figure clad in ratty trousers and a worn cloak. His hood was pulled down low across his face.

“This is a surprise,” said a gravelly yet familiar voice.  “Vlad Martell, if I recall correctly.”

Vlad didn’t sheathe his blade.  “Finn?”

Finn removed the cloak, his puffy features marred by a shiner around his left eye. “Yes.  These are strange times.  That is why I have come to you.  I need your help. Freeport needs your help.” 

Vlad sheathed Grungronazharr.  “I’d love to, but my friends are bleeding in the street.”

Finn smiled.  “I like that about you Vlad.  You care about people.  That is why I have chosen you.  Your friends will be taken care of.  Take a look out the window.”

Vlad peered out the window the thug had been using to snipe at him.  Sure enough, cloaked figures scuttled out to bind the wounds of his companions.  A cart pulled up and they were placed in it.

“Where are you taking them?”

“Somewhere safe,” said Finn.  “We’re running out of those sorts of places.”

“What happened to your eye?”

“I said these were strange times.”  Finn gestured at another seat that Vlad had kicked over in the melee.  “Please, have a seat.”

Vlad sat down.

“I come to you, Vlad, because I have run out of options. There’s a crime wave swamping Freeport since you left.  Someone has organized the gangs. And I don’t mean the usual nonsense, I mean all of the gangs are united.  It’s unnatural, for common criminals to be so focused on a single goal.  Men who were sworn enemies since they knew the soft end of a woman from the biting end are working together now like brothers.”

“Which gangs?”

“The Cutthroats.” He pointed at the dead man near the window.  “That tattoo on his neck will identify those men as members of the Cutthroat Gang.  I followed them here to see what they were up to—they were preparing to take you out, once you left Cresh Manor.”

“So the Cutthroats teamed up with the other gangs?”

“The Buccaneers, yes.”

“But not your Syndicate?”

Finn snorted.  “My own people have been behaving strangely.  I have said this before to Kham—the Syndicate does not sell drugs.  Not now, not ever.  But these gangs, these mongrels, they have this new poison on the streets called Ghoul Juice.  And it’s taken over their lives. Then it finally spread to my own men.”

“That’s how you got that shiner?”

“I have a strict no drug policy.  But then one day one of my bodyguards, one of my own men, asked me to try some Ghoul Juice.  When I said no, he jumped me.”

Finn pounded one fist into the other.  For a moment Vlad thought he was nervous, but then he realized that the smaller man was shivering with rage.  He had never seen Finn angry.

“My own boys tried to hold me down and shove the stuff into my face.  My own boys…” Finn’s voice trailed off.  He slowly shook his head, as though still bowed by the weight of what happened. “There is serious magic at work here.  I need men I can trust, and I am running out of those.  I can no longer trust my muscle…the only men I’ve got are the ones taking care of your friends.”

“Where were you attacked?” asked Vlad.

“There’s a small shack in Scurvytown, over near Dreaming Street. I was going down there to have a conversation with some of my men, who were addicted to Ghoul Juice. Given the state most of them were in when I left, they and the Ghoul Juice might still be there.”

Vlad crossed his arms.  “Why should I help you?”

Finn nodded.  He had been expecting the question.  “For one, I am very unhappy with the release of Estaboth.”  Before Vlad could say anything, Finn held up one pudgy hand.  “But I understand you are a humanitarian.  So if you do this thing, I will forgive this slight. For another, I am the only thing keeping your friends safe.  You are a marked man.  Finally, although we may have our differences, consider the alternative.  They don’t call it Ghoul Juice for nothing.”

“What about Drak and his followers?”

Finn peered sideways at Vlad.  “Who?”

“You know, the orcs?”

Finn looked out the window.  “Dead, probably. Or long gone before my men helped you with your little problem.  I’m not interested in a dirty pile of greenskins anyway. Do we have a deal?“

Vlad considered.  “I’ll do it.”

Finn closed his eyes.  “Find the head of this snake and cut it off, Vlad.  Or Freeport will never be safe again.”


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 3 – The Narcotics House*

At first glance, Vlad thought he was on Dreaming Street. The furtive, the drugged, the soliciting, and the frightened occupied the walkways. Windows were boarded, shuttered, or tastefully curtained, but all were obscured. The entire neighborhood smelled of a bizarre combination of smokes, burning herbs and alchemical substances that make him feel lightheaded.

As Vlad approached his destination, it became obvious that this he was not on Dreaming Street all. The buildings were run-down, the paint and colors peeling. The people had a desperate look to them, and while Dreaming had more than its share of desperation, all who frequented it knew that they could find what they sought—for the right price. He’d learned that when they rescued Corinalous, Kham’s father, from the Well-Dressed Man.

For the people who could not afford Dreaming itself, the streets surrounding it provided a cheaper alternative. People huddled in alleys, shuddering with withdrawal. Red-eyed wretches accosted passersby, begging for sufficient coin to purchase a dose of Ghoul Juice, or a few minutes with their “beloved” harlot, or to pay off their gambling debts before they were fed to the sharks. 

Vlad’s target was a shack, sitting on one side of a small alley, sandwiched between a vendor selling cheap used daggers and a brothel so run-down and filthy, it looked as though the venereal diseases might actually leap out and accost passersby on their own. It was a tiny, ramshackle place that might well fall apart if struck sidelong by a stiff breeze. A tiny trail of smoke rose from a tin chimney. The windows were shuttered, and a crude hand-painted sign was tacked to the front door with a rusty nail. It read “Clozed for Bizness.”

Vlad pulled out his tanglefoot bag and began to swing it.  People in the street made way for the big Milandisian; he was intimidating enough in full armor…swinging a weapon made everyone think twice.  

Then Vlad kicked open the door and threw the bag.  It exploded in goo, immediately covering the blitzed out Cutthroats that lazed within.  

Vlad drew Grungronazharr and put it against the nearest gang member’s throat.  “I want to ask you a few questions.”

The Cutthroat giggled inappropriately and shrugged.  He was definitely high.

“Good.  I want to know how you get this Ghoul Juice.”

The Cutthroat’s eyes rolled.  “I…he smuggles them in.  Paulow.  We call him…” he started giggling again, “Sky-High.  He hates that.”

“Where is he?”

The Cutthroat laughed and told Vlad to do something with a farm animal.

Vlad raised a fist, then looked around. There were some vials of the grayish-green stuff on one table.  

He lifted his sword over the vials.  Suddenly, everyone stopped laughing.

“This is Ghoul Juice, right?  If you value it so much, you’d better start talking.”

The Cutthroat nodded, suddenly very focused. 

“Sky-High.  Where is he?”

“Broken… Mug.”

“Broken Mug?”  Vlad shook him again.  “Is that a place?”

The man nodded.  Vlad pushed him back into the goo in disgust. 

The other thugs slowly got to their feet, moving as if in slow motion.  

Vlad studied the Cutthroat carefully.  Then he held up one hand, the hand that wore the Carcosan ring.  Vlad transformed into a mirror image of the thug, complete with a tattoo on his neck that identified him a member of the Cutthroats.

“Tell all your friends,” said the Cutthroat with Vlad’s voice. “I’m back.  And I’m cleaning up the streets of Freeport.”

Then he turned and smashed the vials, scattering the contents all over the tiny shack.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 4 – Pier Pressure*

Freeport certainly had thrice the ambiance and thrice the character of any other city, and that character coagulated in tiny pools of wonder that mere mortals called “taverns.”

The Broken Mug was constructed at the end of an old pier, leaning out over the water like a drunken sailor about to vomit. The planks creaked alarmingly underfoot, though clearly they were sturdy enough to support the establishment. The sign above the door swayed with the rhythm of the tide lapping at the pier. The symbol painted on it in cracked and fading hues—a mug with a huge fault running through it—confirmed that Vlad was in the right place.

The scent of cheap alcohol, wood shavings, saltwater, and sweat assailed him like common muggers before he even opened the door. The interior of the tavern was dim, lit only by a few flickering lanterns and the light that squeezed in through boarded windows. Tables, and barrels served as tables, strewn about the room with no real sense of order. Half were empty, while the other half seated people in various states of inebriation. Most were men, most were human, and most looked quite at home in a cheap tavern. Several women in blouses cut lower than the afternoon tide flitted from table to table, working to part the drunks from their money by any one of a variety of means. A large stone fireplace stood empty, next to a long bar made of wood, behind which stood a gruff-looking female dwarf. 

Vlad, magically disguised as a Cutthroat gang member, walked over to the bartender.  He plunked down some doubloons.  “I’m looking for Sky-High.”

“Who?” asked the bartender.  She looked aggravated by the mere fact that Vlad was talking to her.  

The patron next to Vlad turned to face him.  “We don’t like your kind here,” he snarled.  

A few other patrons stood up.  One, a twisted gnome, bent and hunched, grabbed a chair.  Another fellow had a bottle in his hand.  

The bartender reached for something beneath the bar.

Vlad shrugged as if dropping a cloak from his shoulders and the illusion disappeared.  “Do you really want to do this?”

The crowd hesitated.  

“Why don’t you get your idiot friend and get out of here.” The bartender pointed one stubby finger at a man sitting alone at a corner table.  He was passed out with his head down, blissfully unaware. The room was silent and tense.  

Vlad grabbed Paulow by his collar and into the street.  The normal tavern sounds of the Broken Mug resumed whatever it was they were doing before Vlad arrived.

Paulow was a relatively thin man with dark hair and slightly swarthy skin.  It was clear that Paulow was in no shape for intelligent conversation.  Vlad dragged him over to the docks. Paulow didn’t resist.

Then Vlad unceremoniously dunked him in the saltwater.  

After waiting a moment, he dragged Paulow back up out of it.  

“Awake now?”

Paulow sputtered, his eyes rolling wildly.  He was at least aware of Vlad’s presence, which was an improvement.

“Tell your dealer I’m coming for him.” He shoved Paulow into the street.  “He’d better watch his back.”

Then Vlad stepped out of sight into the shadows and waited.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 5 – That Sinking Feeling*

Vlad followed Paulow for almost half an hour.  They made their way southwest along the shoreline, leaving the bustle of Freeport behind. The thick jungle loomed nearby, casting dark shadows like fingers out onto the sands. Strange animals call from within the dark trees, as though disturbed that Vlad had the audacity to leave the city at all.

Finally, just as it was beginning to seem as though Paulow was leading him on a false trail, Vlad spotted it in the water some ways further down the shore. 

It was a capsized vessel, partially sunken and resting in the shallow waters. Perhaps a bit less than one-half of the port side of the ship was visible above the waves. The deck faced the shore, the masts stabbing out as though desperately reaching for the land. A thin and rickety bridge, anchored to the ship and to the trees nearest the shore, provided the only visible means of access.

Paulow stumbled his way across the bridge.  Vlad padded out onto the stands near the water.  

The sand near the bridge was churned up and bedecked with tracks, both humanoid and wheeled.  The place clearly saw substantial use.  Several of the humanoid tracks were blatantly inhuman.  In fact, though sized comparably to human feet, they were clawed, almost…

“Ssanu,” Vlad hissed beneath his breath.  The Ghoul Juice epidemic was spreading to everyone.  If the serpent people were involved, it meant the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign was involved.  And that meant they had not been weakened after all their efforts.

Vlad waded into the water, carefully and silently swimming to the other side of the ship.  He could hear Paulow arguing urgently with guards at the wheelhouse.  He slipped out of the water once he could feel the sunken deck beneath his feet.  The guards were letting Paulow in.

Vlad concentrated on his ring.  The spells stored within it caused his features once again assumed the appearance of a Cutthroat gang member.  Then he knocked on the door.

A slot opened, light streaming through the hole.  “I’m with Paulow,” he said simply.  “Let me in.”

“Hold on a tick,” said the gruff voice on the other side.  

Then a plate opened up.  Vlad found himself looking down the barrel of a Titan GG Swivel Gun.

With Grungronazharr in one hand behind his back, Vlad had only a split second to bring the blade before him before the cannon blasted him.  The magical shield that enveloped Vlad and protected him from heat only mitigated some of the damage.  He was knocked backwards, falling into darkness.

The entire ship was stirred to alarm.  Men shouted and grabbed their weapons below.  

The gun swiveled to track Vlad, but they had difficulty spotting him.  With a roar, Vlad slammed into the door with his shield, smashing it open.

The thug manning the Titan Gun tried to swivel it, but Vlad stabbed him in the throat.  A bullet ricocheted off of Vlad’s studded leather armor as another thug fired a pistol at him.  Then the Milandisian was through the door.

Another quick thrust and the second thug fell.  A closed trapdoor led below.

Vlad took a deep breath, opened the trapdoor, and jumped down into whatever lay in wait for him.

He faced a cramped hallway.  Vlad cursed himself for expecting anything else; he’d become so accustomed to fighting in dungeons and alleyways that he’d forgotten how tight the confines of a ship really were.  

He hunkered down behind his shield as the crack of Freeport pistols fired simultaneously.  He was a sitting duck if he didn’t do something soon.

“My darkest hour,” Vlad said to himself.  He pointed an open palm towards the hallway. 

A gout of flames burst from his hand into the hallway.  Shrieks and screams reached his ears along with the subsequent explosions--the sound of black powder exploding.

The familiar thump-thump-thump of someone running were the only warning he had before a horrible figure emerged from the smoke.  It was a tall, pockmarked scarecrow of a man wielding two wickedly curved short swords.  His skin was a rubbery gray; red pinpricks of light reflected behind black goggles and a long tongue lolled from his mouth.

“You’ve come for the Ghoul Juice?” he lisped.  “I will bring it to you!”

The ghoul lunged forward, striking high and low with both blades.  It was all Vlad could do to block the first attack.  The second sliced through his armor.  Vlad howled in pain and stumbled back against the ladder.

Smelling blood, the ghoul cackled and pressed the advantage.  Vlad shoved forward as it lifted both swords for a scissoring attack on his neck, slamming the thing down the hallway.  The ghoul howled as he bore down on, its expression shifting from triumph to fear.  

With a roar, Vlad jammed Grungronazharr through the ghoul’s torso.  It shrieked and kicked, flailing violently.  Vlad took a step back to let it die.  

Then another sound caught his attention. That of someone terrified for his life.

“Paulow,” said Vlad calmly.  “Get out here.  I want to talk to you.”


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 6 – Off Their Guard*

Paulow had told Vlad that “Barnacle-Bottom” Bailey, the ghoul who had attacked him, was dealing with ssanu.  Every few days, some of Freeport’s gangs showed up to collect the juice.  Every few weeks, some of the serpents showed up to deliver more ingredients and give any new instructions.  Bailey was a message center between the different groups and gangs, and between the gangs and the serpents.

But most telling of all were the papers.  Although some of them were badly scorched, Vlad was able to unearth stacks containing detailed guard routes and patrol schedules.  So Vlad went to the one person in the Guard whom he knew would believe him: Price Rurbach.

Armed with Price’s patrol schedule, Vlad knew precisely where to meet him.  He met him with a patrol of five guards.

“Price!” said Vlad with a smile.  “It’s good to see you.”

Price paused and the Sea Lord’s Guard behind him stopped in place.  “Well wot ‘ave we ‘ere?  If it ain’t me old friend Vlad!  Last I heard, you was drownin’ in th’ sea!  Guess you turned up all right then, eh?”

Vlad stepped forward out of the darkness. “You have no idea.  But we can catch up later, I’ve got something I need to show you.”

“Wot’s that?” Price’s eyebrows shot up.  Vlad had forgotten how ugly the man was.  

Vlad handed him the papers he found in Bailey’s ship.  “I retrieved these papers from a drug dealer named Barnacle-Bottom Bailey.  He’s been providing Ghoul Juice to the gangs; it’s how they’ve been avoiding the Sea Lord’s Guard.”

Price scanned the papers.  His lips became a thin line.  “’ave you told anyone else about dis?”

Vlad shook his head.

“Good.  Ya did th’ right thing comin’ to me.”  The guards fanned out around Vlad.  “Unfortunately fer yew, that means we’re gonna have t’ silence ya right here.  Get ‘im boys.”

It took a moment to register.  “Price?  You were working with Bailey all along?”

“Not ‘xactly,” said Price with a shrug.  He drew two of his batons and whirled them about.  “Was givin’ ‘em to the snakes, and they was givin’ ‘em ter th’ rest.  But I guess it works out th’ same, yah.”

With a roar, Vlad slammed his shield into Price’s chest.  Before Price could respond or his guards react, Vlad punched the man square in the nose.

Price slammed into a wall and slid down it, blood dripping from his nose.  Vlad spun, blade at the ready.  “Anyone else?”

The guards hesitated.  Then they turned and ran…only to run into another patrol.

“You Vlad?” asked a gruff-looking sergeant.  

Vlad nodded. “I see you got my note.” He grabbed Price by throat.  “Just in case you didn’t believe me, I sent a note to the Commissioner,” he said.  “Looks like he did.”

The sergeant nodded.  “We’ll take him into custody.”

Vlad cracked his knuckles.  “Not before I speak with him first.”


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 7 – The Reptile House*

The house appeared to be like any other.  It was solid, but every so slightly run down, as if its owners couldn’t quite afford upkeep along with all their other expenses.  It stood two stories in height and its single chimney appeared unused.  Every window was shuttered tight.  Two doors appeared to grant ingress; one was at the front of the house, while the other door opened out into a small garden.

Price knocked on the door.

A slot opened.  “Who is it?”

“It’s…me.  I had a problem.  I think this Vlad person is on to us.”

The slot closed.  Then the door opened and a ssanu stood before him.

Price’s mouth opened and then snapped shut.  He walked in.

The ssanu ushered Price over to a table.  “So, tell me about this Vlad.”

Price squinted.  “He handed me some papers he got from Barnacle-Bottom Bailey’s ship.  When I tried to arrest him, he resisted.  He tried to hand me over to the Sea Lord’s Guard, but I escaped.”

The ssanu cocked its head.  “You don’t sound like Price.”

“And you don’t sound like a ssanu.  Where’s your lisp?”

Price raised his hand and concentrated.  The magic concealing the ssanu dissipated revealing a surprised human.  

Vlad let his illusion drop, sword and shield were at the ready.  He leaped onto the table and stabbed the man in the chest.  Shrieking for help, the man fell to the ground.

Vlad turned just in time to fend off a blast of flames.  Then two men charged into the room, cutlasses at the ready.

The Milandisian was prepared for their attack. He hacked down at one of the men, beheading him.  The second hesitated long enough for Vlad to block another blast of flames.  He jumped as the thug swung at Vlad’s legs.

Vlad landed on the ground next to the thug.  Vlad punched him in the face with his shield.  Stunned, the thug staggered.  Vlad finished him off.

More flames.  Vlad advanced on two wizards, one of each gender.

They backed into a hallway, fear in their eyes.  

“Where’s Mentire Aboir?” snarled Vlad.  “I know he’s here.  Price told me all about him.”

“Right here!” shouted a voice down the hallway.  A shivering blast of ice surged forward, encompassing the two wizards and coating Vlad with rime.  He shook it off.

Vlad pounded down the hallway, stopping short in front of a giant glowing hand.  He struck at it again and again with his sword.

“You should have stopped at Price,” said Mentire, now visible as a twisted gnome. He was wrinkled, with fingers bent into claws.  His head was shaved and his faced was tattooed with white ink to resemble a stylized skull.  “But I was done with this town anyway.  If you want to really get to the bottom of the Ghoul Juice plague, it’s all because of Dutch Tillinghast.”

“What makes you think…” Vlad slammed into the glowing hand and it shuddered from the force of his blow.  “That I will listen…” he smashed into again.  The hand flickered. “…to YOU?”  The hand faded away.

“Medicatus prodigium!”

Vlad hesitated.

“Dutch Tillinghast was the former Commissioner of the Sea Lord’s Guard.  With Milton Drac dead, the Freeport Captain’s Council stripped it all away from him. After leaving in disgrace, he hired a band of mercenaries to work a new plan: using Ghoul Juice.  Ghoul juice’s deadening effect on the will made it a perfect tool to enhance my own mind-controlling magics, the very same you are experiencing now. We worked our way through the Buccaneers and the Cutthroats, when we were working on Finn’s Syndicate to accomplish what no one has managed since the days of Marquetta: the creation of a true, unified Freeport.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Vlad.

“Because none of it matters.  You aren’t going to follow me.  You’re going to cover my tracks by eliminating Tillinghast.  He’s hiding out at the lighthouse, Milton’s Folly. Now go, I need to clean up this place before the Sea Lord’s Guard realizes you failed.”

And for some reason, Vlad agreed with him.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Part 8 – Isle Be Seeing You*

The lighthouse known as Milton’s Folly was a two-hundred-foot-tall tower of white marble, a wonder of the modern age.  The light atop it pierced the gloom of night like a second sun, guiding ships around the isles and through dangerous waters to the relative safety of Freeport’s harbor. Not long ago, it was the center of a scheme to drive the entire population mad in the name of a dark and forgotten deity. Now, converted to an impressive yet mundane purpose, it had already become a fact of daily life, largely taken for granted or ignored by the people who benefited from its presence.

Vlad approached the island by boat at night.  He came from the far end of the island, keeping low to the brush.  If Tillinghast was in the tower, he would most certainly see him enter the clearing.  But there was no help for it, because the invisibility potions were no longer for sale; even Finn had difficulty acquiring them for Vlad.  When he snuck into the clearing and a bell rang, Vlad wished Finn had tried harder.

There was the sound of someone crashing through the bush to his left.  Vlad took off in pursuit.

He ran through the light undergrowth into a copse of trees when an axe nearly beheaded him.  A mercenary in full plate armor and wielding a great axe yanked the huge weapon out of the tree.  Vlad turned and struck at the mercenary’s arms.  He was rewarded with a grunt.  The axe came up again.

Vlad partially blocked the attack with his shield, stopping a glancing blow.  The mighty strike rattled his teeth and numbed his arm.  Vlad slashed at the man’s heel.  The mercenary wailed and fell to one knee.  

Vlad kept running.  He ducked through more trees and undergrowth, finally coming upon a gradual slope.  He could make out Tillinghast ahead of him, running for his life toward docks on the other side of the island. 

“Stop him!” he shouted.  Two mercenaries who were jogging behind Tillinghast whirled to face Vlad.

Vlad skidded to a stop even as both axes whirled through the air, nearly bisecting him.  He blocked one strike with his shield and the other with Grungronazharr.  He wasn’t sure if the ringing was the sound of metal on metal or his brain rattling from the awesome blows.

Vlad ducked an axe swing aimed at his head.  He chopped upwards, striking the mercenary’s forearms.  Miraculously, the mercenary held onto his weapon, saved by his plate armor.

The other axe blow struck perilously close to Vlad’s foot.  He hopped up on the axe as the mercenary tried to pull it free.

Presenting a tempting opportunity to the other mercenary, he swung the great axe in a wide arc.  Then Vlad stepped off the first mercenary’s axe.

A gout of blood spurted from the first mercenary’s visor as the second struck his companion dead in the face.  He fell to the ground.  Vlad stabbed the second mercenary through a gap between his helmet and breastplate.  Then he kept running.

Tillinghast leaped the distance between the dock and a ship of stunned sailors.  “Go!” he shouted.  “Go!  Go!”

The sailors hopped into action as Vlad barreled down the docks towards the ship.

Tillinghast drew a bow.  “Stop following me!”

Vlad didn’t stop running.  He leaped the gap between the docks and ship…

And fell into the water.  Sputtering and splashing, he started swimming for the ship.  

Tillinghast fired an arrow, a warning shot.  “It’s not worth it!  Give up!”

Vlad strapped his shield to his back.  He sheathed Grungronazharr.  Then Vlad kept swimming, pushing himself with mighty strokes despite his armor and weapons.

Tillinghast fired arrow after arrow, but Vlad’s shield deflected them.  They bounced harmlessly off an invisible field just above the Milandisian’s back.

“Why won’t you die?” shouted Tillinghast.

Vlad clambered up the ship’s rigging.  He drew his blade and unstrapped his shield. 

Tillinghast drew his own sword and picked up a shield. “You don’t even know me.” He was of average height, with dull brown hair and a bottlebrush mustache.  “You can’t be that dedicated to Freeport.”

Vlad walked straight towards Tillinghast.  Sailors gave them both a wide berth.

Tillinghast raised his blade, but Vlad easily slapped the weapon out of his hand.  He kicked Tillinghast to the ground with one foot. 

“Now,” Vlad pointed Grungronazharr at the man’s throat, “I want you to tell me who supplies you with the raw components for Ghoul Juice.”

“Why…do you…care?” gasped Tillinghast.

Vlad increased the pressure on Tillinghast’s throat.  “I nearly lost a friend to Ghoul Juice.”

But even as the words came out, Vlad didn’t really believe it.


----------



## talien

*Gangs of Freeport: Conclusion*

After a hike through the Fortress of Justice that took Vlad through the imposing main gates and past the notorious Courts, he was brought to the second story of a large stone building. A heavy wooden door, banded in bronze, stood before him, and a commanding voice calls out for him to enter.

Within was a spacious office. A heavy oaken desk sat on the far corner, cluttered with piles of paper too organized to be called “heaps,” yet not neat enough to qualify as “stacks.” Weapons of all manner and make hung from the walls. Some gleamed as if purchased from the smith only the day before, while others were little more than solid rust, held together by sheer force of habit.

Behind the desk stood a man of average height and solid build. Though graying strands amidst his black hair and beard betrayed the onset of middle age, he still boasted the physique and the carriage of a seasoned warrior. Even inside, though he wore no armor, he carried at his belt the heavy “smashstick” mace that had become the unofficial emblem of the Guard.

He bid Vlad welcome in a voice that, when raised, could carry clear across a parade ground or battlefield. “Please take a seat,” he offered, indicating a chair before his desk. “I am Commissioner Xander Williams. My guards tell me you have information regarding the current crime wave. I would be delighted to hear it.”

“You already know about Price,” said Vlad.  “What you don’t know is that Dutch Tillinghast was behind it all.  He was importing the ingredients for Ghoul Juice from an island,” he slid a map over to the commissioner.  “There’s a shipment due tomorrow, five thousand pearls, in exchange for the ingredient in Ghoul Juice, essence ingots.”

Williams leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard, his eyes worried. “This is far worse than I had thought,” he admitted. “I knew that only an alliance of gangs could result in the level of crime we’ve been seeing, but it never occurred to me that someone from the outside might be taking over all of them. We’ve got to stop them.” The commissioner shook his head sadly. “Alas, even knowing what I now know, I fear I may be able to do little about it.” His gaze suddenly became intent. “Would you be willing to help us out?”

Vlad smiled.  “I will see this through to the end.  My companions have been cleared of all charges?”

Williams nodded.  “Even Kham.  Technically, it was a life sentence.  The official record has him as dead.”  A slow smile crept over William’s face.  “So I don’t see any reason to amend it.  So long as he lies low, we’ve no reason to press charges.  Your other friends will be likewise cleared of any wrongdoing, including that unfortunate incident with Coombs’ bombs.”

Vlad nodded.  “Good.” He stood up.

“One moment, before you leave.” Commissioner Williams lifted a handful of papers off his desk—clearly, despite the chaotic appearance, he knew exactly where everything was—and removed several prewritten forms. He snagged a quill from a drawer, signed and dated the forms, and handed them over to Vlad. “These are official invitations to meet with me again,” he said. “Simply display them to the gate guards next time you’re here, and they’ll show you right in.”

Vlad took the papers.  “I’ll return with the essence ingots and stop this Ghoul Juice problem once and for all.”

“There’s one thing I find strange,” said Williams.  “You went into the house where the ssanu were, but you never mentioned what you found.  And yet you knew all about Tillinghast’s plans…”

Vlad blinked.  He didn’t remember what happened.  He just remembered an all-consuming need to apprehend Tillinghast.  If the ssanu had done something to him, they hadn’t let him retain the memory.  

“My men searched the place.  We didn’t find a thing.  It was wiped clean.  No bodies, nothing.  If you ever remember something from that day, use those invitations and we’ll talk, okay?”

Vlad shut the door behind him.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 58: The Ghosting of the Lady Quay - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Necromancer Games adventure “The Ghosting of the Lady Quay” from the Dead Man’s Chest supplement, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

By this time the rest of the players showed up and it was time to close the loop on Freeport’s Ghoul Juice problem. I turned this adventure on its ear, reversing the role of the Lady Quay (ferrying pearls for Essence Ingots instead of the other way around).  How the Essence Ingots are made is an awful secret that our heroes are about to stumble onto.

This is the beginning of a series of high-level adventures where the monsters truly test the mettle of the PCs.  The gloves are off and now everything is fair game, including petrification, energy drain, and a whole host of other nasty things.  This is also the adventure that introduces the amulet of the planes on a 4 HD monster (I boosted the kelpies to be considerably nastier, but still…a 120,000 gp item on a 4 HD monster?).  

Fortunately, the amulet proves to be a really entertaining plot device.  You’ll see what I mean in subsequent adventures.

There were other problems.  For example, the main villain is hiding in a highly insecure home.  It’s hard to surprise adventurers when they can JUST WALK UP TO THE WINDOW AND PEEK INTO YOUR HIDING PLACE.  Ahem.

And with that, it’s time to put the pirates back in Freeport.  No more worrying about cultists and serpent people in sewers, it’s time to explore a drug dealer’s island!


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Prologue*

Kham and Sebastian, stared skeptically across the table at Vlad. They were sequestered in a dark recess of the alehouse known as the Dead Reckoning. 

“So we just do this one job and all is forgiven?” asked Kham in disbelief.

“That’s how the Commissioner put it to me,” said Vlad.  “But we’re all in, since we broke the law, so to speak.”

“And they’re just going to let me walk…” Kham stared into his mug.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this.

“Not quite,” said Vlad. “Technically, you’re dead.  Freeport declared all hands on deck of the prison ship drowned.  So it’s more a matter of letting you stay dead.”

“Sure.” Kham shrugged.  “That makes about as much sense as the rest of the laws in Freeport.”

“And we just have to go along with this Rekello, I suppose,” said Sebastian in a strange voice.  Since his return from Carcosa he seemed perpetually distracted and he spoke with an odd cadence.

“That’s what Tillinghast said.”  Vlad took a drink from his mug, then made a face.  The ale was terrible. “He put word out through his contacts that we’re hired thugs working for him.  They don’t know he’s been caught yet.”

“And he lied to save his own skin,” whispered Sebastian.  “I don’t know that we can trust him.”

“Where’s Beldin?” asked Vlad.  “I told you all to meet me here.”

“He gated back to Solanos Mor,” said Sebastian flatly. “I trust the agreement covers all of us, not just humans.”

Vlad didn’t like the way Sebastian excluded himself from being human.  “Yes, it covers all of us.”

Kham nodded towards the door.  “I’m in.  And here comes Rekello now.”

A rugged looking sailor entered and immediately spotted them.  He walked over to the table, noticed the empty seat, and took it.

“You’re the mercenaries Tillinghast hired?”

Vlad nodded.  “We are.”

“Good.  The Lady Quay is an extremely fast vessel, so the trip should take no more than three days.  I promise to have you back in Freeport within one week, where I’ll pay the remaining half of what Tillinghast promised you.”

“Who’s our captain?” asked Kham.

“Captain Winnifer Miro,” said Rekello.  “The goal of the voyage is the safe delivery of medicinal herbs and healing draughts, to be signed over to Marissa Lapideaux working on Aegis Island.”

Kham leaned forward.  “Winnifer Miro?  Didn’t her ship go under?”

Vlad shot him a look. Rekello looked uncomfortable.

“Yes.  Her last ship, the Night Heron, met with a bad end.  This is her first expedition since losing her consort, Thispin.” He rushed into a defense of Miro.  “She’s really quite an excellent captain…”

Kham waved him off.  “Sure, sure. I’ve heard of Captain Miro.  Good captain, bad luck.  I’ve also heard that the Lady Quay has a propensity for ghosting.”

“Ghosting?” asked Vlad.

“Folks have noticed that the Lady Quay moves pointedly in the harbor,” said Kham, “even in the complete absence of wind.”

Rekello cleared his throat.  “Yes, well, ghosting is not uncommon.  Ships of all types experience such an event once in a blue moon.  On the open seas, anything can happen and usually does.”

Sebastian leveled his gaze at Rekello.  “And what do you need us for?”

The dark-kin had long since given up pretending to be a normal human.  His huge bat wings were unavoidable.  Even his tail was out.  It was encircled around a mug that he sipped from occasionally. 

“Uhm…the Pale Sea teems with pirates and natural predators.  That’s why we asked for Tillinghast’s help.  We’ll need marines for anything we encounter.”

“We’re in,” said Vlad.

Rekello slapped the table.  “Good.  Provision yourselves for a week-long journey on the open sea.”  He withdrew a lengthy document from his doublet.  “And I’ll need you to sign articles.”

“I will sign no Sarishan Oath,” said Sebastian.

Rekello looked up at the dark-kin.  “Nor would I expect you to.  A man’s word is good enough here in Freeport.”

One by one, they signed the articles.  Rekello gathered the papers up and stuffed them back in his doublet. 

“Excellent.  Meet me at my dinghy in an hour.  It’s tethered to the docks near here.” Rekello got up and left.

”You nearly blew our cover,” muttered Vlad.

”Oh and now you’re the undercover pro.”  Kham smirked.  

“We had to be convincing,” Sebastian said without a hint of sarcasm.  “Besides.  There’s something…off…about him.”

They all stared down at their drinks and decided not to question the source.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 1 – A Woman in Need*

Captain Miro was striking in appearance, especially for a woman in her fifties.  Her short, spiked hair was the color of her cutlass blade, a vibrant silver. She was seldom without a sweat-stained strip of red silk tied around her head.  The headband matched her waistcoat, the buttons of which were pure gold, as were the hop rings that dangled from her ears. Like many sailors, Miro spent her life barefoot, the better to tread the canting deck and navigate the shrouds.

“She was a real looker once,” said Kham, staring at her from the other side of the ship.

In her youth Miro must have been an arresting beauty, but the rigors of her trade left their mark in the wrinkles at her eyes and in the coarseness of her skin.  Still, she was a handsome woman, if a somewhat unrefined one. 

Vlad smirked.  “She seems very sad.”

“A pirate’s life is sadness and woe.” Kham spun on one heel, encompassing the ship.  “We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves,” sang Kham.  

Vlad looked dubiously at Kham. “You’re drunk.”

“We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,” sang Kham.

“Drink up, me 'earties,” shouted some of the crew in chorus, “yo ho!”

Kham chuckled and sighed.  “Where’s the elf when you need a good song?”

“What’s gotten into you?” asked Vlad in irritation.  

Kham laughed again.  “You mean this?” he tore off the scarf he wore on the ship and pointed to the yellowish wound.  It would never heal correctly.  “Or do you mean the fact that my powers don’t work?”

“What?” asked Vlad in disbelief.  “Since when?”

“Since we closed Carcosa.”  Kham was somewhere between giggling and crying.  “I can’t walk between worlds anymore because there’s no world to walk, you see.”

“Something off the port bow!” shouted a crewman.

No more than fifty yards off the port bow floated a small, crudely built raft.  The craft had been lashed together of ill-fitting timber, sporting a single mast that bore a sail that appeared to have once served duty as a bed sheet.  One end of the pitiful raft was partially submerged, due in no small part to the large, seaweed-laden chest encumbering it.  Water lapped over the legs of the raft’s single passenger, a woman in a sodden evening gown who pulled determinedly at the sea with a broken paddle.

“Mr. val’Abebi?” asked Captain Miro wearily.  “Would you like to rescue the damsel in distress?”

“Oh sure,” said Kham.  He took two steps forward and then slipped.  Kham let out a loud belly laugh.  “Maybe later!”

Vlad shook his head.  “I’ll do it.”

“It’s a trap,” said Sebastian matter-of-factly.  He flapped down from the crow’s nest, serving as lookout.  No crewman begrudged the dark-kin of the duty. 

“Well we can’t just leave her out there.” The crew obliged Vlad with a small rowboat and lowered him over the side of the Lady Quay.  

“Hello?” Vlad rowed towards the woman. “Do you need help?”

The woman scowled back at Vlad and continued to paddle the raft as if intent on keeping the contents of her chest to herself.  

Vlad rowed closer. “Hello? Do you speak Coryani?”

The woman stopped paddling.  Vlad threw her a rope.

She immediately began trying to lash her beloved chest to the rope, but it was clear she couldn’t manage the feat without assistance.  Vlad rowed closer to help.

Suddenly, the woman melted into a pile of seaweed. A second later, four horse-like beings reared up around Vlad, sculpted of seaweed.  

“Kelpies!”  Kham rolled over on the ship’s deck in a fit of laughter.  “He got suckered in by kelpies!”

Vlad drew his sword and slashed outwards.  The things threatened to smother him with sopping seaweed, striking with their sodden hooves.

“He’s surrounded!” shouted Captain Miro.  

“On my mark,” shouted Sebastian, “flip the rowboat over.”

“What?” asked Vlad, desperately trying to defend himself from all sides.

“You heard me.  Do it now!”

Vlad grabbed hold of the edges of his rowboat and heaved sideways.  The boat rolled, dunking him underwater. 

“Incendiaries globus!”

A ball of fire engulfed the kelpies.  The kelp easily ignited.  Their screams were a bizarre mix of a horse’s whinny and a woman’s shriek.  

In moments, all that was left was blackened bits of kelp and the floating chest.  

A second later, Vlad’s rowboat flipped over, the floating chest purchased next to him.  He looked around, sputtering.

“What just happened?” asked Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 2 – Buried at Sea*

Kham fingered an ancient bronze amulet they found in the kelpies’ chest.

“I don’t know what you see in that ugly thing.”  Vlad held up a necklace of coral and pearl.  “This is worth a lot more.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” said the val.  He kept running his fingers over every contour.  “It’s what’s on the amulet that’s important.”

“It’s a map,” said Sebastian coolly.  “So Kham can find his way.”

“Seriously?” asked Vlad.  “So does that mean you can—“

Before he could say more a rubbery, wet thing landed on top of Vlad, its tongue lolling from its mouth.

“Ghoul!” shouted Vlad with a start.

Sebastian opened up his wings and let the draft yank him aloft, away from the fracas.  

The ghoul dug its rear claws into Vlad’s studded leather arm and began to stretch. The Milandisian was pinned beneath the thing’s grasp, incapable of even drawing his blade. In another second it would disembowel him.

Then Vlad wasn’t there anymore.

Kham smiled up at the shocked look on the ghoul’s bloated face.  “Hi,” he said.  Then he easily rolled out of the thing’s grasp.

Translucent jaws grabbed the ghoul and dragged it off the Lady Quay.  The ghoul flew backwards off the deck, only to be incinerated by Sebastian from above.

Vlad found himself in a hammock, where Kham had been just before. 

“So I guess that amulet did help, huh. Thanks.” Then Vlad reclined in the hammock, arms behind his head.  “It’s good to have you back.”

Sebastian landed on the deck. “I don’t know how any crew manages to survive the Pale Sea," he said.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 3 – Master of the Fathoms*

The winds were sparse, causing the Lady Quay to drift.  

“What do we do when we get there?” Kham was hanging from a makeshift hammock, swinging to and fro with the ship’s motion.

“What we’re being paid to do,” said Sebastian.  “Find whoever is supplying the Essence Ingots and kill them.”

“Since when do you talk so callously about killing people?” Vlad proceeded to whittle a piece of wood, for lack of anything else to do.  

Sebastian stared out at the ocean. “You weren’t the Stranger in Carcosa for years.  Maybe centuries.”

Kham rubbed his throat. “Was it that long?” 

“It’s impossible to tell.  I did many unspeakable things over and over again until I no longer understood their significance.” Sebastian’s tail flicked behind him.  

Vlad couldn’t help but notice the poison stinger at the end.  He looked at Kham as he addressed Sebastian.  “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?  Unbalanced, perhaps.  But angry?  No.  Why should I be?  I made the decision and Kham made his.  You brought me back.  That’s enough.”

“Things are different, that’s for sure,” said Kham.  “I feel like the whole world has changed. Like it lost its spark.”

“Almost as if we’re cursed?” Sebastian allowed a tiny smile to creep across his ashen lips.  “The King in Yellow was your patron, as he was mine.  He has withdrawn his protection from us.  Arcanis is a little grayer because of it.”

Vlad shook his head.  “Now you’re both scaring me.”

Suddenly, a blast of greenish slime washed over them.  Before Vlad could react, a suckered tentacle slapped around his torso. Four other sailors yelped in horror as they too were enveloped.

“Ah crap,” was all Kham got out.  Then Vlad was in his place, dripping with slime.  

A moment later and the giant octopus shoved off the ship, dragging the four screaming sailors into the ocean with it.  

Kham clambered on to the ship, dripping with seawater.  By switching places with Vlad, he’d slipped out of the octopus’ grasp and into the water.  

“You’re welcome,” he said to Vlad.

Vlad wiped slime out of his eyes and spat.  “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian never moved from his position, as if nothing had happened.  “That’s strange,” he said quietly.

“You mean the fact that I nearly just died and we lost four crewmen?” Vlad asked in disbelief.

Sebastian shook his head. “That octopus had a symbol on its head.”  He fished out the sextant they had retrieved from Drak Scarbelly’s gut many moons ago and held it up.  “It’s the same symbol that’s on the sextant.”

It was a symbol of a skull-like octopus with five tentacles.  It was the symbol of…

”Who lives in a grotto down under the sea?” sang Kham.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 4 – Aegis Isle*

Eventually, the Lady Quay weighed anchor in one of the lagoons at Aegis Isle.  The island was very small, less than five miles across, but abundant in jungle flora.  The Lady Quay moored several hundred yards off the dangerous reefs surrounding the island.  Rekello saw that the pearl-laden crates from the lower hold were put into a dinghy. 

“Nothing lives here,” said Captain Miro, “except the yurians.”

“Yurians?” asked Vlad.

“Crabmen,” said Kham.  “They use Aegis Isle as a mating and assembly ground.”

“Marissa Lapideaux also lives here,” said Rekello.  “She’s a renowned sculptor that lives in a simple stone cottage in the center of the island.”

“Since when does she deal in healing draughts?” Kham blinked.  “Last I heard, she was selling one of her life-sized statues.  I think they called it the Spirit of Freeport.”

Lapideaux’s statue was of a pirate brandishing a cutlass in defiance of the world.  It created quite a stir, such that the Captain’s Council bought it and placed it outside the Sea Lord’s palace. 

Rekello and Captain Miro took the oars of the dinghy.  “Follow in the second, just in case your sword arms and spells are needed along the way.”

Sebastian, Kham, and Vlad clambered into the other boat and followed them.

As they came closer to the island, what looked like bizarre coral reef were actually the waving eyestalks and claws of several yurians.

“This is unusual,” said Captain Miro.  “They never meet us here. We usually drop off the pearls and there’s a crate of…herbs waiting for us.”

“Yeah, right,” said Kham.  “Herbs.”

One of the yurians waded forward and clicked in a bizarre tongue.  

“Anybody speak crab?” asked Rekello.

“I do.” Kham pulled the Nkisi n’kondi out of his haversack. It was a doll with metal bits sticking out of it, that Atum had given him.  Then he pushed in one of its metal bits.

“…give us five thousand pearls,” clicked the yurian, “in exchange for four chests.”

“What are they saying?” asked Captain Miro.

“They want us to give them pearls for the chests,” repeated Kham. 

“Well let’s give it to them then,” said Rekello.

“Not so fast,” said Vlad.  “We want to see what’s in those four chests.”

Kham relayed the message.  The yurians chattered excitedly to each other.  

“They say they’ll go get the chests,” translated Kham.

“No,” said Sebastian.  “We will take the pearls to Lapideaux in person.”

“What?” asked Captain Miro.  “Since when?”

Kham winked at her. “Don’t worry sweetcheeks.” Clearing his throat, he turned back to the crabmen. “We’d really like to hand the pearls to Lapideaux ourselves.”

The yurians had much the same reaction as Captain Miro.  “This is unusual,” said one of the yurians, probably the leader.  They all looked alike to Kham.  “We must confer.”

There was much claw and eyestalk waving.  Eventually, the leader returned.  “We have decided.  You will take the pearls to the Mistress’ home.  There is a path.  We will show you.”

Kham smiled. “Great.”

“We never agreed to this!” said Rekello.  “What are you doing?”

“Ensuring you get what you’re owed,” said Sebastian.  “Trust us.”

Captain Miro looked Sebastian up and down.  “You’ve got three hours. If you’re not back by then, we sail without you.”

“You’ll stick around,” grinned Kham at the older captain.  “I know you can’t be away from me for that long.”

Captain Miro rolled her eyes.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 5 – Living Room*

The walls of Marissa Lapideaux’s home were made of stone. The door had a base knocker shaped like a coiled snake.

Sebastian spread his bat wings. “I’ll check around the back.”  He launched himself into the air with a mighty flap.

“I’ll check the windows on the other side.”  Kham swigged a potion and disappeared.

Vlad sighed.  “Well, guess that leaves me.”  He banged the knocker a few times.  “Hello?  Anyone home?”

No response.  Vlad tried the door.  It was locked.  Judging from the way the door rattled, it was barred from the inside.

He walked over to large windows on the side of the house.  Inside was a comfortable living area with a rich rug spread across the floor.  It was furnished with several comfortable chairs. 

Vlad drew Grungronazharr.  “Sorry to do this to you buddy,” he said to the blade, “but the Carcosan ring doesn’t open locks anymore.”  He smashed the window open.

There was the sound of a conflict.  Vlad ran over to the only door when Grungronazharr started to pulse.  He skidded to a halt on the carpet.

The blade pointed downward at the floor, throbbing.  Vlad peered closer.

The floor directly in the front of the door was trapped with a covered pit.  He could make out a slight discoloration in the wood.  

“Wow,“ Vlad looked at Grungronazharr appreciatively.  “You really are looking out for me, huh?”

“You might want to look out for me,” hissed a feminine voice.  

He caught sight of a pair of glowing red eyes just before a thicket of snakes sunk their teeth into his flesh.


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 6 – Ruined Lab*

The room was a chaotic mess of wrecked beakers and shards of glass, broken chemical gear and tattered books.  Kham didn’t think the owner would mind a broken window.

Something hissed near the doorway on the opposite side of the room.  A creature coalesced before his very eyes, serpentine in form.  He thought at first it was a ssanu, but its feminine upper torso and forest of snakes for hair made him jerk his gaze away.  

“Welcome to my home,” snarled a feminine voice.  “So good to see you. Have you come for tea?”

Kham reacted quickly.  He reached for his powderhorn and then threw it into the air between them.  

“Sorry, I’ve got a date with the ladies!” Careful to avoid her gaze, he drew two pistols and fired.

The ensuing explosion blew him backwards.  Kham twisted through the air, using the momentum to hurl himself out the window.  At least, that was the plan.

Instead, he tripped and stumbled, banging his head against the windowsill.  The medusa chortled.

Two scorching rays changed her mind.  Sebastian flapped just outside the window.  When Kham struggled to his feet, the thing was gone.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian said in irritation.  “Stop fooling around.”

Kham mumbled something about being cursed.  

The debris shuddered and shook with the sound of a gigantic teapot whistling.  Then an alchemical kiln, buried in the mess, blasted open and a huge, demonic being of dark flames encompassed the room.

“Ahh!” shouted Kham.  He rolled out of the window and onto the ground, running for his life.

Sebastian threw an orb of cold at the thing, but it gave no indication of noticing the attack.  

Kham kept on running.  He stumbled into what he thought was a garden.  Then he realized it was much worse than that.

Statues were everywhere in various poses, an expression of horror on their faces.  But what was more disturbing was the block-like stones that had been removed from their bodies, giving each statue a jigsaw like appearance.

Sebastian landed beside him. “That was a guardian.  It will stay in that room, so long as we do not disturb it again.”  The dark-kin shot Kham a look that clearly placed blame. 

“Check out these statues,” said Kham.

“Essence Ingots,” Sebastian said coldly. “She’s been harvesting them from her victims. She does something to them before she turns them to stone. That’s why there is soul-stuff left in the bricks.”

“The same bricks they used to make Ghoul Juice. The same bricks they used to make Milton’s Folly,” said Kham.  “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 7 – The Mistress' Lair*

Vlad crawled his way out of the window.  If Kham and Sebastian hadn’t distracted the snake-thing, she would have killed him.

Sebastian found him lying on the ground.

“What happened to you?”

“Snakes…drank…blood…” he was pale and shivering.  “Caught me…by…surprise.”

Sebastian shook his head.  “As I feared.  This is no mere medusa.”

“Right, because she wasn’t bad enough as just a ‘regular’ medusa.”  Kham rubbed his forehead. “This one sucks blood. Probably turns into a bat too.”

“Boss,” whispered Skiz from Kham’s haversack.  “Boss!”

“Not now Skiz.”

”BOSS!”

“What is it Skiz?”

“She’s calling me.”  The little rat was clearly freaked out.  “I can hear her in my head.  She’s calling me.  She’s calling us.”

Sebastian made a low whistle and a tiny bat flapped onto his shoulder.  It squeaked in his ear.

Sebastian nodded.  “Dracuul says much the same.  She is summoning the creatures of the night to her.  The sun is beginning to set.  We’ve got to move fast.” He turned to Vlad.  “Are you up for it?”

Vlad struggled to his feet.  “We’ve got to stop this.  I’ve seen it…this far.” He grimaced.  “I’ll see it to the end.”

“The shape you’re in, you’ll end up as more bricks,” said Kham. 

“I can help you.” Sebastian sprinkled diamond dust over Vlad’s head, causing the Milandisian to sneeze. “Tergus lapideu.” 

Vlad’s skin turned a granite-like color. “This one is for free.  But in the future, I’m charging for this incantation; diamond dust isn’t cheap.”

“Ah, how I miss the good old days of humanitarian Sebastian,” said Kham with a smirk.  He drew his two pistols.  “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“And what am I supposed to do?” asked Skiz.

“Try to stay calm and in the haversack,” said Kham.  “This will all be over soon.” He quietly added. “One way or another.”


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Part 8 – The Hidden Vault*

Kham padded down the hallway, peering around each corner before he did so.  He waved the others on behind him.

He came to a door.  Throwing caution to the wind, Kham opened it.

The small room was heaped with pillows of all shapes and sizes.  Thick rugs covered most of the floor.  A thin copper lever protruded from the northern wall.  It smelled like reptile flesh.

There were sounds of combat in the hallway.  Kham ignored them. He pulled the lever.

There was a grinding sound.  A stone wall slid open near the lever.  

Something shrieked in agony in response to whatever it was Sebastian and Vlad were doing. 

The vault’s interior was totally dark and heaped with crates, five in all, each bearing a decrepit iron lock.  They were quite large, almost too big to fit through the narrow doorway. 

Vlad shouted an inquiry as to Kham’s whereabouts, littered with expletives.  

Kham drew his special lock-picking dagger out and then popped the handle.  He chose from a variety of picks.  Then he concentrated, his eyes glowing briefly.  

Kham twisted the picks in the lock.  He was rewarded with a satisfying click.  A needle hung in the air between him in the lock, then dropped to the ground.  Kham’s mental shield paid off.

There was an explosion and a scream.

With a shrug, Kham put the dagger back into its sheath at his belt.  He drew his two pistols.  “Okay, we do this the old fashioned way.”

A thin trail of greenish gas snaked its way between Kham’s feet and climbed its way up through the lock.  Kham blew the lock off.

When he opened the large chest, the medusa was curled up within, her eyes closed, arms over her chest.  She looked almost peaceful.

Vlad skidded into the room, panting.  “Where the hell were you?”

Kham smirked.  “Doing what we came to do. Now give me a hand and help me drag this chest out into the sunlight.”


----------



## talien

*Lady Quay: Conclusion*

An explosion wracked the Lady Quay…then another and another in a chain of designed destruction. She had seen better days: she was a wrecked bulk of planks and torn sails, of rotten shrouds and sagging yardarms.  Her keel was irreparably split, her rudder nothing but a splintered stub.  Fetid seaweed clung to her warped bulkheads like rotting flesh. 

“What the hell happened?” asked Vlad in horror.  

The hull of the Lady Quay ruptured, cracked open like an arid desert; the aft section burst and trembled. Slowly, it began to sink in flames, plunging to her death. 

Sebastian watched dispassionately. 

The Lady Quay sank beneath the waves as the sun set. A few crewmen dove off the side, swimming their way to shore. 

The survivors of the Lady Quay, temporarily safe, watched in awe and grief as their only way home died in the ominous Pale Sea beyond. Captain Miro watched with hollowed eyes.

“My god, Rekello,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

“What you had to do,” said Rekello.  “What you always do.  Turned death into a fighting chance to live.”  He looked concerned over at his captain.  “You hear me, Winnifer?”

Captain Miro took a deep breath and nodded her understanding to Rekello. 

“Mind explaining it to the rest of us?” asked Kham.

Rekello shot Miro a glance.  She nodded at him.  “It doesn’t matter now.” 

Miro turned to address Sebastian, Vlad, and Kham. “Several months ago, my consort Thispin Venorth and I were hired to deliver a fell cargo of Essence Ingots to Freeport.  We loaded the Essence Ingots into the hold of our beautiful ketch, the Night Heron, unaware that the dangerous black bricks contained the trapped souls of once-living creatures.  The ubiquitous ship rats gnawed on the crates and eventually were infected after consuming portions of the tainted ingots.  When the infected rats bit the crew, fatalities quickly mounted and the frightened sailors declared an all out mutiny.”  She choked, unable to go on.

Rekello picked up where she left off. “The ensuing fight was savage and bloody.  The Night Heron caught fire during the fray.  In order to save our lives, we slew a dozen of our own men.  But Thispin was mortally wounded.  He died even as the ship was sinking.”

“I fully expected to drown with him,” said Miro.  “But I found the ship rising up from the clutches of the cold sea.  Only days later, when my crewmates rose up as undead horrors, did I realize what happened.  The Night Heron had become a ghost ship.  Rekello and I were the only living people aboard the haunted vessel.”

“So we hatched a plan,” said Rekello. “We cloaked the ship with magic and vowed to set the undead crew to rest by delivering another shipment of the cursed cargo to Freeport, thereby passing on the taint. But…”

“Worked pretty well,” said Vlad.  “Ghoul Juice nearly destroyed Freeport, thanks to you.”

“There’s no more cursed cargo,” said Sebastian.  “We razed the place to the ground. All the Essence Ingots were destroyed along with the sorcerer who created them.”

“Then the curse is truly broken,” said Miro.  “I had expected to go down with my ship.  And with Thispin.”

“We still have the dinghies,” said Sebastian.  “Perhaps we can lash a makeshift boat together.  Three days time should allow me to scout ahead until we can be rescued.”

“You do that.”  Kham grabbed the Captain by her waist.  “What if I told you I could bring you to Freeport in the blink of an eye, sweetcheeks?”

The Captain eyed Kham but didn’t pull away.  “I’d say you’ll be the only man who called me that and lived.”  But she managed a grin.

“That’s all I need to hear.”  Kham winked at Vlad.  “See you in Freeport!”

He touched one hand to the kelpie amulet.  With a flash, Kham and Captain Miro disappeared.

The other sailors who had survived the sinking of the Lady Quay, all men who hired on from Freeport, stared at them expectantly.  Sebastian glared back at them.

“Don’t look at me.  I don’t possess such magic.  Not yet.”  He flapped into the air.  “I’ll cut down some trees for our raft.”

The sailors stared up in shock.

“You heard the man!” shouted Vlad.  “Hop to!  If we’re going to get off this island, we’ll have to work together!”

The men scurried to do Vlad’s bidding.  When they were out of earshot, the Milandisian turned to address the ocean.

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Kham.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 59: Fair Salvage - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Tales of Freeport adventure “Fair Salvage” from Green Ronin, by Graeme Davis and adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

Bijoux’s player had abruptly exited the campaign before I was ready to write Bijoux off completely.  So it took awhile, but this is the adventure where we explain what happened to Bijoux’s people and why anyone should care.  After all, they’re the Great Success or Failure (depending on how you look at it) for the Unspeakable One.  Are they any better off?

More importantly, as the campaign winds to a close, it’s time to clean out the closet, so to speak.  Anyone and everyone is fair game, and more than a few NPCs have served their purpose.  When it comes to a murder mystery, somebody or in this case several somebodies, have to die.  

This scenario is barely an adventure, actually, but more an encounter.  It’s one of those adventures that seems much more interested in telling the PCs about what already happened, as opposed to actually thrusting them into the middle of a conflict.  I tweaked the adventure so the PCs were at all the exciting parts and heard about the boring parts instead.

Even that resulted in very little combat, because fortunately the PCs are smart enough to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.  

Now somebody tell that to Bijoux.


----------



## talien

*Fair Salvage: Prologue*

The Long Day’s Night eventually rescued Sebastian, Vlad, and the remaining crew of the Lady Quay.  The breezed had stopped completely, so that the air hung hot and humid and utterly still.  Ships had been becalmed, sometimes for weeks, with no sight of land or salvation, slowly depleting their supplies. 

“Sorry boys,” said Captain Amos.  “According to the charts you recovered from Marissa Lapideaux’s home, the time to open a portal to R’lyeh came and went.”

Sebastian turned the small sextant over in his hands.  “Then all is lost.”

Amos clapped Sebastian on the back.  “Oh, I’m sure something’ll turn up.  If my boys heard right, you stopped the Unspeakable One and lived to tell about it.  Opening a portal should be a piece of cake for the likes of you.”

Vlad rubbed his forehead.  “If only it were that easy.”

Sebastian looked up.  Something had caught his attention. “There.” He pointed. “What’s that?”

There was a glint on the water, not far off.  Vlad peered over the deck at it.

“Well, I’ll be…” said Amos.  He handed Vlad the spyglass.  “See for yourself.”

Vlad looked through the scope.

It was a whale-shaped construct, composed entirely of thick, clear glass. It was hundreds of feet long.  The body was fashioned with the appropriate dorsal hump, medium-sized flippers, and a powerful fluke.  Its huge, bulky head took up nearly a third of its total body length.  A single angled blowhole was located on the far left top of its forehead, projecting streams of visible white air.  The slim and narrow lower jaw of the glass whale was lined with peg-like teeth that fit into grooves along its robust upper jaw.  Tiny figures moved within it. 

“What is that?”

“I don’t know,” said Amos.  “But it has no sails and she’s running against the wind. How is that possible?”

“Anything’s possible, with the right magic,” said Sebastian.  “But to outfit a ship of this size with such an enchantment would be fantastically expensive.”

“Maybe it’s a ghost ship,” offered Vlad.  “We’ve seen a few of those lately.”

Amos shook his head.  “The weather’s calm.  Visibility’s good.  The ship looks solid enough to me.”

With a splash of its tail, the gigantic glass whale disappeared into the deaths.

“That’s worrisome,” said Vlad.  “If whoever pilots that ship joins Coryan’s civil war, they could blow Freeport right out of the water.”

“Worse,” said Amos, “they could outbid Freeport’s buccaneers!”

Sebastian just shook his head.


----------



## talien

*Fair Salvage: Part 1 – The Unfortunate Antiquarian*

Falthar’s Curios was only fifteen feet wide, but it was a good fifty feet long.  It almost seemed that the building was an afterthought, crammed between two existing structures with little regard for functionality.  Falthar made it work though.  The front room was normally stuffed with curiosities from floor to rafters.  

Kham found the door unlocked, the shop’s contents scattered.  The furniture was reduced to kindling.  

“Falthar!” shouted Kham.

Falthar val’Abebi lay on the floor in several pieces, badly charred but still identifiable.  It had not been disturbed. Given the recent corruption scandal sweeping Freeport, none of the Sea Lord’s Guard had yet arrived despite several citizens raising the hue and cry.

Kham leaned down to inspect the corpse. The damage suffered by the corpse was consistent with magic.  And yet, there was none of the widespread fire damage that one would expect from something so powerful.  

“Skiz, look around,” said Kham.

The talking rat hopped out of Kham’s haversack and climbed down his pant leg.  He paused to sniff the corpse.

“That’s not dinner,” Kham said sternly.

Skiz shot Kham a hurt look.  Then he resumed sniffing the rest of the room.  

“Strange smell here boss.  Something weird.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Kham.  “There’s a lot of valuable items in here.  Either the murderer wasn’t interested in profit, or he didn’t realize their value.”

“Falthar was connected, right boss?  Who would mess with him?”

Kham shook his head.  “I don’t know.  But whoever it is, they’re gonna pay.”


----------



## Neurotic

I'm all caught up. And now have to wait for next installment. Luckily, you're posting like Lazybones 

Good work everyone!

Now few questions: what happened when character(s) died? Did you loose players or they changed characters? Bijoux and Calcyte primarily.


----------



## talien

Good question,

Short answer: They quit.

My sister-in-law didn't really have the time to play, and my brother's interest flagged soon after.  There were a lot of reasons for this, one of them being that because they weren't playing often enough they started to lag tremendously in power levels.  

The other reason was that when they did show up, adding two additional players tended to make the game very chaotic, since it usually swelled our total number of players to seven.  Because they were both new to D&D, this made it a bit boring. 

The problem was that with the ever changing schedules of my players, I wasn't really willing to restrict the number of players.  I applied a lot of what I learned to my d20 modern game.

I'm also beginning to realize that campaigns work best if I have a conclusion to the campaign in mind, as player interest tends to flag over the years.

Thanks for your comment!


----------



## talien

*Fair Salvage: Part 2 – The Collector*

The brutal murder of Falthar cast a pall over the surrounding area.  Some people were afraid to go out at night, while others formed themselves into vigilante groups and patrolled the streets in search of evildoers.  There were several cases of mistaken identity that resulted in innocent people being stopped, beaten, and even lynched.  

An almost palpable sense of dread hung over the neighborhood, but the rest of the city carried on its business as usual—a murder, however gruesome, was not a serious thing in Freeport, so long as it happened at a comfortable distance.  

Sebastian joined Vlad and Kham in front of a two-story house on a leafy side street off Wave Avenue. 

“Why have you summoned us here?” the dark-kin asked as he landed.

“Maybe you should stop flying around the city,” Kham said in irritation.  “You could get lynched.”

Sebastian let a sly smile cross his lips. “They’ve already tried.”

It was understandable, said the Sea Lord’s Guard.  Sebastian fit the description of the strange creatures seen roaming the city at night.  They were never clearly seen and were described as nothing more than distorted shadows slipping in and out of the darkness.  The stories told of glowing red eyes and tall, misshapen figures as thin as an elf but as tall as an ogre.  

Vlad looked up at the house. “Where are we, anyway?” 

“Aljandros Haddon’s house,” Kham said flatly.

“Aljandros too?” Vlad looked sideways at Kham.  “Is there something you want to share with us?”

Kham shrugged.  “Don’t look at me.  I can’t help it if I know a lot of people.”

“A lot of dead people,” said Vlad. 

Sebastian flapped up to the second story.  “The bars on this window have been pulled apart with great force.” He peered closer at the window.  “It looks as if they were melted and then bent.” 

The dark-kin flew through the window while the others took the steps. Once again, the Sea Lord’s Guard was nowhere to be found.

Aljandros’ bedroom was a mess, with contents scattered about as if a tornado hit it.  

Sebastian nudged something with his foot. “This was Aljandros.”

Kham turned over a few books, sorting through the remains of what were once shelves.

“Looking for something?” asked Vlad.

Kham nodded.  “Aljandros was never happier than when he was showing off his latest find.  Less than a week ago, he invited several other collectors to his house to admire his latest acquisition, an ornate bowl.”

“So?” asked Vlad.  “You think he was killed over a bowl?”

“It wasn’t just any bowl. It was made of an unknown metal and about the size of half a coconut.” Kham frowned. “It was taken from the same wreck that Freeport’s Siege Cannons came from.”

“I thought the Freeport cannons were from Altheria,” said Vlad.

Kham whirled on him.  “Altheria would never supply such things to Freeport.”

Vlad was taken aback.  “Sorry.  Didn’t realize it was a sore subject.”

Kham smoothed his overcoat down.  “I went to prison over the rights to blackpowder pistols, remember?  It’s all because of the damn gnomes.”

“But these cannons and this bowl didn’t come from gnomes.”  Sebastian’s eyes glowed as he scanned the room.  “The bowl is not here.”

“Now what?” asked Vlad.

Kham kicked some debris aside as he left the room. “Now we go visit the Siege Cannons.”


----------



## talien

*Fair Salvage: Part 3 – Assault on the Towers*

The most impressive part of the Old City’s defenses was the five arcane fire cannons atop each one of the walls’ towers.  

“The massive brass and iron armaments were salvaged from a mysterious hulk, found beached on the windward side of A’Val after a savage storm.” Kham climbed the winding outer steps up one of the towers. “It was impossibly large by Freeport standards.  Sea Lord Francisco paid an exorbitant amount of money to acquire what were at first regarded as expensive curiosities.” 

“Have they ever been fired?” asked Vlad.

Kham nodded. “The next marauding fleet that cruised into Freeport Harbor bent on stemming the tide of piracy received a surprising reception. Once the fleet’s flagship was reduced to a floating bonfire by one shot from the top of the Freeport battlements, the rest of the invaders quickly moved on.”

Two guards stopped his ascent with large clubs.  “Halt!” said one of the guards. 

There was a shout beyond the guards.

Kham swigged a potion and disappeared.  The guards blinked and looked around.  

Sebastian snapped out his wings.  The guards readied their polearms, only to have the dark-kin spiral up past them.

That left Vlad.  He smiled.  “Do you know who I am?” He flashed the Symbol of Drac.  “I’m a good friend of the Commissioner.“

The guards looked at each other.  Finally, with a unified shrug, they let him pass.

Four tall and thin humanoids were stalking up the stairs.  They somehow obscured their appearance, their features cloaked in shadow. Another pair of guards were ahead of them, shield and halberds at the ready. A smoking hole in the wall near the guards was mute testament to the beginnings of a conflict.

Sebastian landed behind them.  “Stop!  What do you want with the Siege Cannons?”

Vlad stood behind Sebastian, sword at the ready.

One of the creatures turned to face the dark-kin, its eyes glowing a bright red.  Its skin was matte black in color. A series of images flashed through his mind. 

He saw the k’n-yan overtaking the fihali homeworld.  As it was absorbed into Carcosa, several fihali escaped on whale-shaped glass ships.  They warped and shimmered, only to appear in Arcanis. 

Except that they did not all appear at the same time and place.  One of them appeared two hundred years in the past.  Another appeared only recently.  Of the other ships, there was no sign. When they arrived, the fihali were changed, caught between two worlds. 

Sebastian was overcome by a great feeling of sadness.  Then, he saw a view of the inside of the great ship, which slowly filled up with strangely-wrought objects of various types, including the metal bowl taken from Aljandros’ collection, accompanied by a feeling of puzzlement.  Next, there was a picture of one of the siege cannons, accompanied by a feeling of anger.  

It was a two-way form of communication.  Sebastian’s mind relayed one image clearly: A man sat near a tree with a dog at his feet. He played a lute and sang a song for a woman standing on a nearby balcony. An immature spawn of Hastur was slowly crawling up to the balcony toward the woman. High overhead, a crescent moon shone. The entire image was upside down…

The black fihali’s eyes narrowed.  

“Halt!” shouted a heroic voice.  “I, Henry Gow, will not let you pass!”  The young-looking wizard shouldered his way past the two guards.  “Back, foul creatures!  Fear my mighty magic! Hypnos regula!”

Henry’s outstretched hands flashed a dizzying pattern of bright lights. The color caused the black fihali to recoil.  

“No, wait—“ said Sebastian.  But it was too late. 

One by one, they shimmered and warped out of the air.  

“Ha!” shouted Henry. He pointed at Sebastian.  “I do not fear you, monster!  Back, I say, BACK!”

“Fool,” snarled Sebastian.  “I was communicating with them!” There was a whip-cracking sound.  A purple welt appeared on Henry’s neck, the aftereffects of Sebastian’s poisonous tail.  

The wizard collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

“I didn’t know your tail could do that…” Vlad looked down at the unconscious wizard.  “Now what?”

Sebastian’s tail twitched.  “Now we pay a visit to the wreckage where Freeport retrieved those Siege Cannons.”

Kham appeared next to Vlad.  “You may want to postpone that trip.”

“Why?” asked Vlad.

Kham pointed.  Dozens of torches bobbed in the darkness. “It looks like somebody’s about to get lynched.”

For a heart-stopping moment, the object of the lynch mob’s rage was visible on a torch-lit platform.  A rope was tied around her neck.  

It was Bijoux.

“Not again!” shouted Sebastian.  His allies didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant before the dark-kin launched himself off the edge of the tower.


----------



## talien

*Fair Salvage: Conclusion*

The crowd roared as the designated executioner wrapped the noose tightly around Bijoux’s neck.  She was easy prey, muttering feverishly to herself, eyes rolling.  They bound her hands and feet so that she couldn’t glide to safety.  Then, with a mighty heave, they shoved her off the stone steps of one of the other towers.

There was a flash of black and the rope snapped.  Bijoux was snatched out of the air by something moving fast.

Sebastian flew all the way to the beach before he let Bijoux go.  He slashed open her bindings. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.  “The card…the card forced me to do things…”

Bijoux didn’t seem to hear him.  She wobbled steadily to her feet.  “They’re calling me,” she whispered. “They’re trapped between worlds.”

“I killed so many.”  Sebastian fell to his knees.  “There were a dozen, I think, in Carcosa.  They didn’t know what hit them.”  He could still smell the stench of burning flesh.  “The King in Yellow forced my hand…”

Vlad and Kham arrived a few minutes later, panting.

Vlad put his hands on his knees.  “You have to leave.  The mob is coming this way.”

Sure enough, the pool of angry fireflies that were the mob’s torches had transformed into a serpent of flame, winding its way through Freeport and towards the beach.  

Kham stared out at the water.  “Uh, guys…”

Vlad looked over at Kham. “What now?”

“The water out there…it doesn’t look right.  It’s broken up somehow, like something…”

“Invisible,” said Sebastian.  “The fihali have come to avenge their brothers.” He stood up and stretched out his wings, a good span of twelve feet.  “So be it.  I am not afraid to die.”

“Are you nuts?” said Vlad. 

“Yep,” answered Kham.

A glowing white cannon appeared in mid-air about a hundred yards out.  There was an odd whirring sound and the cannon’s barrel flared brighter.

“I don’t think they’re aiming for Sebastian,” said Kham.  “I think they’re aiming for the mob.”

The crowd had hit the beach.  Their angry shouts were audible.  

“If they shoot now, it’ll be a massacre!” shouted Vlad.  He drew his sword, but knew that even Grungronazharr couldn’t stop the blast.

“No!” shouted Bijoux.  “Calactyte, NO!” She launched herself in the air.  “We have to help him!”

“What the hell is she talking about?” asked Kham. 

“Bijoux’s delirious,” said Sebastian.  “She thinks she’s back in Semar.” 

Vlad pounded towards the crowd.  If he could get there in time, maybe there was a chance…

The fihali flew towards the cannon, intercepting the blast before it could expand further.  There was a terrific explosion that knocked them to the ground. For a moment, a white light as bright as the sun at high noon illuminated the beach. 

A great wail went up from the crowd.  Terrified, it quickly dispersed.  

Vlad fell to his knees, his entire body drifting smoke that whipped in the shore winds.  Bijoux’s sacrifice was enough to slow the blast but not stop it. Grungronazharr absorbed what it could, but the explosion was too powerful.  

Kham ran over to Vlad and felt his pulse.  “He’s alive.  Barely.” There was no sign of Bijoux.

“They will never know her sacrifice,” Sebastian said sadly.

When the light finally faded, a small, featureless boat parted the water.  More cloaked figures stood stiffly in its center as it propelled itself towards the beach, parting the water without oar or sail. 

Sebastian took a few steps towards the boat and waited. 

The black fihali stepped out of the boat, one by one.  They turned to face Sebastian. 

“I…I am sorry.”  Sebastian choked.  “I was mad.”

“Who are you talking to?” asked Kham.  He couldn’t hear the other part of the conversation.

“We cannot give you the Cannons,” said Sebastian. “Freeport needs them to survive.”

The black fihali inclined its head, staring at Sebastian curiously.  

“Bijoux’s sacrifice should not be in vain.  There can be peace between us, despite our past sins.  I will help you.”

The fihali nodded.  Sebastian nodded back.

“That is a very generous offer.  I will discuss with my companions.”  

The dark-kin turned to Kham. “They need the cannons to attack a k’n-yan ship.  It too crashed here when the fihali homeworld was destroyed. But in light of Bijoux’s sacrifice, they are willing to use my firepower instead.  I offer it to them freely as recompense for the murders I committed.” 

“Murders?” asked Kham.  

“In exchange, they will give us access to something called the Moonsilver Orb.  It can open a portal to R’lyeh. That’s our only chance to stop Leviathan.”

Kham peered at Sebastian.  “You’re going to do this whether we go with you or not, huh?”

Sebastian nodded.

Kham flashed him a grin.  “It’s good to have the old Sebastian back.  I’m in.”

“And me,” said a gruff familiar voice.  Beldin stumped across the sands, having just returned from Solanos Mor.  “It’ll take a dwarf to show you how to navigate the high seas.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 60: Where the Ocean Meets the Sky - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Dead Man’s Chest adventure “Where the Ocean Meets the Sky” by Necromancer Games, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (Jeremy Robert Ortiz) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

Alert readers will note that we already played half of this adventure in our heroes’ quest to return from Nyambe.  Instead of making Coralis a long journey, we have the PCs traveling by glass whale powered by pseudonatural fihali—weird transportation, but fast nonetheless.  

I tweaked the adventure so that exploring the sunken ship is a necessity to get the Moonsilver Orb.  Then I threw out the not-so-interesting caverns/challenges and replaced it with all the neat challenges I never got to use on The Isle of Chaugnar Faugn. This turned out better than I expected, and the PCs were more than up to the challenge.

I also decided that if one of my PCs is going to have an amulet of the planes, then he’s gonna use it as a plot device to escape certain doom.  Which he did.  Of course.

This is also the last you’ll see of the k’n-yan and the fihali as they struggle to prevent the Cult of Leviathan gaining dominance.  Or to put it another way, out with the old cult, in with the new!


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Prologue*

Coralis rose from the Pale Sea, a sun unto itself, like a grand cathedral to Yarris, god of the depths.  Tall spires captured the light of the sun, transforming the dawn into a multitude of gems floating in the sky.  Four towers reached from their watery foundations up to the heavens, appearing to be made of precious stones: emerald, sapphire, ruby, and topaz.  The reef of coral below the towers was clearly visible through the crystal waters, extending out of sight in either direction, effectively blocking further passage.  

Numerous islands, sporting foliage, emerged along the reef.  Fires burned on several of the islands, hinting that all was not well.  The ruins of four other towers confirmed that a massive battle had occurred recently. 

The black fihali turned as one to face Beldin, Kham, and Sebastian.

“This is where we get off,” said Sebastian after a moment of interpreting the thought-symbols the alien fihali relayed only to him.  “They showed me an image of a buried ship, approximately one hundred feet below the surface.”

“And we’re supposed to do what, exactly?” asked Beldin, dubious.

“The fihali ship was trying to penetrate the defenses of the k’n-yan.  In the end, they rammed the ship into the coral, but they died in the ensuing explosion.  We must make our way through that opening and find the Moonsilver Orb.”

“K’n-yan, huh?” asked Kham.  “I don’t suppose they’ll be surprised to see us?”

The glass whale rocked from an explosion.  It was a testament to fihali engineering that the ship only shuddered.  

“Never mind,” said Kham.

The fihali pointed.  Slowly, the platform where Kham, Beldin, and Sebastian stood sank into the mouth of the glass whale. Water rushed in around their feet.

“How exactly are we going to breathe water down there?” asked Kham.

Beldin concentrated a moment.  “There, you can breathe normally underwater now.”

The water was waist level. Although it was cooler than the air, the water of the Pale Sea was still temperate in comparison.  

Kham looked at him sideways.  “Just like that?”

Beldin crossed his arms.  “Just like that.”

Kham took a deep breath. The water level reached his neck.  He reflexively raised his chin.  

“I don’t know if I trust Cho Sun’s ring,” Kham muttered.

“You don’t have a choice,” said Sebastian.

The water reached Kham’s mouth and then suddenly he was completely submerged. 

“Relax now, Kham,” said Beldin, muffled beneath the water. “Sebastian and I have done this before. Just keep breathing as it fills...don't fight it.  Take it in.  Just let yourself take it in.”

Suddenly, there was nothing to breathe but water.  Kham’s eyes went wide in instant panic.  He started to thrash, chest heaving.

“This is normal,” said Beldin. “It'll pass in a second.  Humans breathe liquid for nine months, Kham.  Your body will remember.”

Kham looked at the dwarf in disbelief.  He would have yelled at him if it didn’t mean giving up another breath.

His spasms subsided.  Kham began to breathe normally.  He was alive, alert and quite completely drowned inside the glass whale.  He grinned and gave a thumbs up to Beldin.

“Now the real fun begins,” said Sebastian.

Then the glass whale’s mouth dropped them into the ocean.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 1 – Black Hole*

A vessel resembling an oblong sphere of seamless, shining metal jutted from the coral reef.  A long gash marred the otherwise perfect exterior, allowing water and fish easy passage into the interior.  Lengthwise along the equator of the huge ship, weapons and tools of all uses protruded from the hull, each near by a small porthole.  The metal appeared unaffected by the water.  

There was a jagged opening in the ship, one that obviously should not have been there.  The explosion that brought the ship low left a gaping hole in its side.  The edges were ragged and blackened, with strange conduits protruding from the mangled remains of the wall.  They flashed with energy occasionally, all that was left of the magic that once powered the vessel. 

Sebastian spread his wings and snapped his tail behind him, gliding like a manta ray in the ocean depths as if he had lived there all his live.  Beldin wasn’t kidding, they had clearly practiced such a maneuver before.  

Before Kham could get any closer to the ship, there was a rush of water around them.  K’n-yan, their arms close to their sides, were launched downwards into the water as if they had been propelled by great force.  

“Guess they know we’re here.” Kham reached for his pistols, then stopped.  Firing the pistols would be impossible underwater.

Sebastian was already gliding like some deranged manta ray towards the k’n-yan.  He said something, Kham couldn’t make out what, and suddenly the water before them was filled with superheated bubbles. 

Some of the k’n-yan returned fire.  Their strange rifles went wide.  Others reached for curved swords.  That gave Kham an idea.

Beldin swam forward, swinging his axe clumsily at his opponents.  While he was certainly a devastating foe on land, without his footing Beldin was as ineffective as a fish on land.  Every swing of his axe knocked him off balance.  

Kham was not so encumbered.  His ring bestowed the ability to move effortlessly in the water.  He drew Talon and Coomb’s dagger.

Rays of energy spiraled through the bubbles and struck Sebastian again and again.  He floated backwards, weakened from the attack.

Then they were upon him.  Kham dodged sideways as one of the k’n-yan attempted to skewer him.  It was so close he could see his reflection in its bronze exoskeleton…if it even was an exoskeleton.  Whatever the actual nature of the k’n-yan’s armor, they didn’t need to breathe.

Kham plunged his dagger into the side of the k’n-yan and a chunk of ice cracked its way along the thing’s torso.  Then the ice yanked it upwards, out of Kham’s field of vision.

Sebastian recovered his senses and another superheated blast of steam tore through their foes.  When he was finished, the remaining k’n-yan floated in the Pale Sea like bundles of discarded straw.

“You okay?” Beldin asked Sebastian.

The dark-kin shook it off.  “I’ll be fine.” 

Kham swam to the opening of the ship…and was rewarded with a jolt of electricity as he passed through it.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 2 – Death’s Hold*

The center of the ship was arranged like the spokes of a wheel, with each spoke containing eight doors off of the central hub opening onto eight identical rooms.  On the other side could be seen sparks from the rent hull of the ship, the side that had penetrated the coral.  Although the crew had died, their mission was a success…they had opened a path to the Moonsilver Orb. 

“I don’t like this,” said Sebastian.  “Too many doors and too far to swim.”

Beldin straddled the bottom of the tubular hallway.  “I like it just fine.  I can put my feet on the ground.”

They slowly made their way down the hallway. 

“You do realize something’s going to jump out of those doors when we get about midway through,” said Kham.

Beldin hefted his axe, his beard floating in the gentle current.  “Counting on it!”

Just then there was the terrible shriek of rusted metal, unwillingly being forced open.  One after another the doors all around them were pushed aside to reveal bloated, clawed hands.

“The fihali who died here,” said Sebastian.  “They still guard their ship.”

With a roar, Beldin slammed his axe down on one of the arms poking through the doorway, severing it.  The arm floated and twitched.

“Got any tricks, Sebastian?”

The dark-kin looked sideways at Kham.  “Your tactics gave me an idea.”

Sebastian extended a palm as if he were going to blow a kiss. But a withering blast of ice coated the entire corridor, freezing the doors in place.  

The dark-kin, looking smug, spread his wings and continued down the corridor. 

“Nice trick,” said Kham as he swam after him. 

Beldin grumbled and followed behind.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 3 – Cave Entrance*

The water of the Pale Sea dripped into the mouth of a darkened cave, but the magical seal between the shipwrecked fihali vessel and the coral reef held.  

Kham dropped to his knees and doubled over as spasms wracked him.  Water exploded from his lungs. He lay gasping and coughing on the floor, dragging in deep breaths of air.  

Beldin and Sebastian spat up water, but with much less violence than Kham.  

“Is it always like that?” asked Kham, catching his breath.

“Yes,” said Sebastian.  “But it’s tougher on humans.”

“Since when didn’t you consider yourself human?” asked Kham.

Sebastian let his twitching tail speak for him. 

The cavern dripped water all around them, but it was not submerged.  A shallow depression ran through it, a river beneath the ocean, forged through magic.  A wider path of black volcanic led into the cavern.

Kham took a few steps in, then stopped.  He bent down to inspect something he had kicked. 

It was a skeleton, half-buried in silt, with its arm outstretched towards the strange river.  There was a rotting pouch in one skeletal hand, a rusted cutlass in the other.  

“That’s strange,” said Kham.  “Looks like this guy’s bones were broken around his neck and shoul…”

There was a rumbling overhead.  Beldin shoved Kham aside, shield over his head.

“Down!”

A huge boulder slammed into Beldin’s shield, pounding him into the sand, before it bounced off and careened down the cavern. 

More rumbling followed.

“Go!” shouted Beldin.  “Go! Go!”

Kham and Sebastian ducked ahead as another massive boulder landed.  Beldin rolled to his feet just in time. 

The boulder, larger than the first, wedged itself in the cavern opening.  Rock and debris fell down around it, sealing their only exit.

“No choice to go but forward,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 4 – Shot Trap Loading Chamber*

Beldin smashed open the rusted iron door at the top of a natural staircase.  Beyond the door was a large cave with a wooden and iron rack built around the outside of the wall.  Several k’n-yan moved about the room, lifting the large boulders from a pile and loading them onto the rack.  The rack led to a circular pit in the center of the floor. 

Kham drew his pistols.  “Now we know who was running that trap.”

Beldin’s pent-up frustration was unleashed.  The dwarf bellowed and waded into the thick of the bronze creatures, hacking and bashing.  Kham fired a few shots, but it was more to give Beldin some breathing room until Sebastian could…

A blast of flames tore through the k’n-yan ranks.  More beams of light sizzled towards them, but the k’n-yan’s resistance was token at best. 

When it was all over, Kham kicked one of the bodies into the hole.  He watched with satisfaction as it rolled over on itself and slid out of sight. 

“Is it just me, or do the k’n-yan seem weaker than before?”

Sebastian nodded.  “Like you and I, they have been cut off from their lord—“

“Stop calling him that.  He’s not my lord.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Whatever you call him, the King in Yellow’s influence has waned.  These pathetic beings are all that were left of his legacy here on Arcanis.”

The room shuddered, a reminder that a war was raging overhead with far more powerful weapons. 

“Not sure how we’re helping,” said Beldin.  “We should be up there, fighting.”

“I was given the impression that retrieving the Moonsilver Orb will weaken the k’n-yan further.  Perhaps it is central to their defense.”

“Or maybe it’s central to the defense of Leviathan,” said Kham, “and the k’n-yan are just trying to prevent us from getting to it first.”

Sebastian peered into the hole. “What makes you say that?”

Kham pointed.  “Uh…that thing.”

On the opposite side of the cavern was a large green statue.  It represented a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind.  

One of the tentacles moved.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 5 – The Elder Eidolon*

The world spun, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.  Beldin and Sebastian staggered as if drunk, their minds scrambled from the awesome force that emanated from the statue. Kham stood alone, his mind accustomed to dealing with such mind-rending attacks since his first encounter with the Unspeakable One.

The thing, which seemed indistinct with a fearsome and unnatural malignancy, was of a somewhat bloated corpulence, and squatted evilly on a rectangular block or pedestal covered in undecipherable characters.  The tips of the wings touched the back edge of the block, the seat occupied the center, whilst the long, curved claws of the doubled-up, crouching hind legs gripped the front edge and extended a quarter of the way down toward the bottom of the pedestal.  The cephalopod head was bent forward, so that the ends of the feelers brushed the backs of the forepaws that clasped the croucher's elevated knees.  

It slowly unfurled, stretching its wings as it rose to its full height.  Kham was overcome with fear.  The thing thundered one step forward at a time, advancing on Beldin and Sebastian.

Kham knew he had to do something.  The thing's blasphemous tentacles reached for Beldin’s face.  Kham suddenly came to the realization that it knew he was there, but was ignoring him.  He was insignificant to its existence, as relevant as a fly assaulting a castle.

But he had to try.

“Skiz!”  He yelled down to his talking pet rat.  Skiz’s head popped up.

“We out of the water yet, boss?  You’ve got to warn me about these things sometimes…”

“You’re breathing air, aren’t you?  When I say so, you give me the Ladies and you keep giving them to me until I say otherwise, got me?”

“Sure, boss, but—“

“Now Skiz!”

The rat shoved two pistols to the top of the haversack.

Kham drew them both and fired. The bullets ricocheted off the back of the bizarre idol. It didn’t even react.

“Now!”

He drew two more pistols and fired.  The two pistol blasts sparked off the idol’s head.

“Now!” Kham’s voice faltered, but Skiz gave him the pistols anyway.

He took careful aim and fired twice more.  The sound was deafening and smoked filled what little air was in the cavern.  

There was a new sound of stone grinding on stone.  The idol turned to face him. 

“Well, at least I’ve got your attention,” said Kham.

The thing took slow, shuddering steps towards him.  He could feel its disgust, its utter superiority, as a palpable presence.  That it was toying with them, he was certain.

Skiz was busy trying to reload the pistols.  It was difficult for the rat to do it, but he had learned over time.  They had never encountered a situation where so many pistols would be needed so quickly.  

Kham drew Talon and Coomb’s dagger. 

The idol came closer.  Its tentacles waved obscenely in the air, feeling in all directions.  And yet two long ones stretched toward him with the careful motions of a lover’s grasp.

There was a bellow of rage.  Beldin struck the idol so hard that he elicited a chip from its foot.  Knocked off balance, the idol whirled to face an opponent it thought defeated.

Sebastian hurled a pale blue orb.  The blow struck true, and spreading cracks of rime snaked through the statue’s body.  There was the distinct sense of a presence withdrawing…and then the statue crumbled, collapsing in on itself, until there was nothing but powder. 

“What in Illiir’s name was that?” asked Beldin.

“That,” said Kham, “was Leviathan.”


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets the Sky: Part 6 – Riddle of the Wheel*

The idol’s movement revealed a hidden passageway beyond.  Kham stepped gingerly through the hallway, rattled from the encounter with the incarnation with Leviathan. 

He heard a click.

“Guys, there might be a trap—“ was all he got out. 

The walls slammed together, smashing into Beldin just behind him.  The dwarf was saved only by his shield and armor.  The force was so quick and so powerful that it left Beldin stunned.  Sebastian shoved him forward as the walls retracted and reset.

“Sorry,” said Kham.  “I’m not really the trapfinding type.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “We noticed.”  He fed a healing potion to Beldin.

The dwarf wiped blood from his nose.  “I should have caught that,” he growled.  

The danger temporarily passed, they took in their new surroundings.

A large set of scales flanked an altar made of soapstone, covered in dried blood.  Chains that ran through holes in the ceiling supported the scales.  The altar was carved in the shape of Leviathan.  Standing behind the altar was another statue, with four of its tentacles grasping four of the six handles of a huge, bronze ship’s wheel.  There was bizarre writing on the floor of the chamber.

“On the altar give to me that what sets a pirate free,” read Kham.

“Pirate?” asked Beldin.  “What do pirates have to do with a place like this?”

Kham pursed his lips.  “I think this is Captain Wendron Krubach’s real treasure.  The one you found was only part of it.”

“So that’s why k’n-yan possessed him,” said Sebastian. “They were manipulating a minion of Leviathan, a sweet revenge.”

“Which means the k’n-yan forced Krubach to erect these traps so that the Moonsilver Orb could not be found,” said Sebastian.  “If we resolve this riddle, we should have the Orb.”

“Sure, easy enough,” said Kham.  “What sets a pirate free?”  He smirked.  “Death, of course.”

“But what represents death that we can put on the scale?” asked Beldin.

They tried water.  They tried dirt.  They tried one of Kham’s pistols.

Sebastian thought of Bijoux.  “I know.”  He took the noose that he had torn from Bijoux’s neck.

“What’s that?” asked Beldin.

“A noose.”  Sebastian placed it on the scale.

“More importantly,” said Kham, “why did you hold onto it?”

The balances moved and the statue’s tentacles lifted from the ship’s wheel.  Upon being released, the ship’s wheel rotated one turn to the left with a loud, grating clank.

After the wheel made one turn, the tentacles dropped back down upon the handles of the wheel, although only barely touching it.  

Kham looked down.  “The writing on the floor changed: If pirate be, then stand ye ground and face the awful, stirring sound of ocean’s riddle with six to grasp. Choose ye well or breathe ye last.  The first, a damsel, loved and lost.  Two, a pirate, who paid the cost.  Three, a wheel, and captain’s gold. Four, sharp adventure for the bold.  Five, eighteen graves tell every story.  Six, a burning, molten glory.”

“Four,” said Sebastian.  “We seek adventure.”

Kham shook his head.  “Krubach killed his crew after discovering the most precious treasure of all.  There must have been eighteen of them.  Pick five.”

“Are you sure?” asked Beldin.  The dwarf had paid for Kham’s mistakes before.

“No,” said Kham.  “But if we were sure about anything we sure as hell wouldn’t be here now would we?”

Beldin crossed his arms and said nothing. He looked to Sebastian.

The dark-kin nodded and turned the handle to the fifth position.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Part 7 – The True Orb*

The cavern floor was made of black volcanic sand and earth.  Eighteen graves were marked with rusted cutlasses sticking from the ground, each with a dusty, wide-brimmed felt cap or rotted bandanna tied around its cup-shaped hilt.  Beyond the eighteen graves was an underground portion of the river.  A small island sat in the center of the water and rapids, with a series of six moldy stepping-stones that led to the island.

Upon the island was piled several treasure chests and broken sacks, spilling gems, jewelry and various coins, and a large glowing orb that sat atop the glittering booty.  Jeweled cutlasses, rapiers in ivory scabbards, and finely crafted crossbows and bandoleers of daggers rounded out the tableau.

Kham and Sebastian exchanged glances.  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sebastian nodded.  

Kham and Beldin collected up the cutlasses and hats.  When they were done, Sebastian flapped his way over to the pile of treasure. Kham and Beldin hopped from stone to stone to reach him.  

Above them, the sounds of ship-to-ship combat and massive magical cannonfire grew louder.

“Ready?” asked Kham.

“Ready,” said Sebastian.

Kham scooped up the orb.  “Now!”

The graves exploded as the remains of Krubach’s treacherous crew clawed their way to the surface. Sebastian chanted an incantation.

Dozens of black, rubbery tentacles erupted from the ground over the graves, as if they had sprung from the graves themselves.  They grabbed the outstretched arms and claws and sucked them back into the graves.

Beldin picked up two fistfuls of treasure just as a massive explosion rocked the cavern.  

“Time to go!” shouted Kham.

“Go where?” asked Sebastian in disbelief.  He stooped to pick up something for himself.

“Anywhere but here.”  Kham put one hand on Beldin and Sebastian’s shoulders and concentrated.

They disappeared in a flash just as the entire cavern collapsed.


----------



## talien

*Ocean Meets Sky: Conclusion*

They appeared in front of the Temple of Cadic.

“That’s the last time you do that,” Sebastian said sternly.  “I didn’t give you permission to hurl us across Arcanis.  We could have ended up in the center of a mountain for all you know.”

Kham looked hurt.  “I got us out of there, didn’t I?”

“And with some booty to boot,” said Beldin appreciatively. “I picked up a fine rapier and cutlass.”

Kham grinned.  “And I got an eyepatch.  And a box that folds out into a boat.  I’m a regular pirate now.”

The old pirate priest, Peg-Leg Peligro, greeted them personally. “Did ye get it?”

Sebastian gave the pirate priest a wary look.  “Get what?”

“Don’t be coy! Th’ Moonsilver Orb! Did ye get it?”

Sebastian nodded. 

The old man sagged in relief. “Aye, then all is not lost.”

“You seem troubled, Father,” said Kham. “What’s up?”

“I was makin’ me devotions last evenin’, when thar was the strange feeling…”

“Feeling?” asked Beldin.

“Aye.  Like I lost Cadic’s protection for a moment, as if ‘is gaze had been distracted.  It returned, but I fear somethin’ terrible and unnatural occurred.  Maybe ‘tis just an old sea dog lettin’ his superstitions get th’ best of ‘im, but thar’s more than a whiff of death in th’ air.  Yar, and maybe more t’ follow.”

“You think this has to do with Hell’s Triangle?” asked Beldin.

Peligro nodded. “Ye missed the window to open the Hell’s Triangle portal, but with th’ Orb, ye just might be able to open it again.  Ye just need the Key. And I fear th’ Key has gone missin’.”

“I hear that a lot,” said Kham.  “Speaking as a former Key himself, who is it this time?”

“Cadic may have other sailors to tend to, but ye don’t.  I warned yet not to let harm come to Carthy, and ye won’t be keepin’ your end of the bargain chewin’ the blubber with me!”

Kham slapped his forehead.  “Carthy! I forgot all about him.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t remember us,” said Sebastian. “As I recall, we didn’t leave on good terms last time.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 61: Red Skies at Morning - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Black Sails Over Freeport adventure “Red Skies at Morning” by Green Ronin, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

This is the beginning of the home stretch.  If you’ve played Black Sails Over Freeport, you know how it ends and you know who Leviathan is.  It’s the answer to Sebastian’s question several chapters back: “Whatever happened with that sextant we picked up?”

Well, now we know.  I had to think long and hard about how this adventure would accommodate the “old school” style of D&D.  Like the Castle Amber adventure series, Black Sails Over Freeport is very much a resource management, long slog to the death kind of game.  Which means PCs are going to die more often.  So I had to nudge a caster (Peg-Leg Peligro) that could cast raise dead and resurrection to go along.  

The other problem is that this adventure ultimately ends up stranding our characters on another plane with only their ship as a home.  That means everything the PCs need between adventures has to be there with them, including the aforementioned cleric.  This is where the Arcanis game shifts from traditional skullduggery, politics, and questions of honor and family to good old fashioned blowing things up and taking their stuff.  

Black Sails Over Freeport has some problems, like the assumption that PCs of 6th level or higher won’t have access to fly, which is ironic since one of the cultists had access to a potion of fly. Then there’s the fact that the main villain, Billy Bones, is a poor imitation of Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) from Blue Velvet.  I never liked Blue Velvet and I disliked the technology-bending requirements of having a villain who breathes from an air mask.  Also, he’s always high on Abyss Dust, which I’ve replaced with Ghoul Juice…so the whole thing didn’t work for me.

Instead, I made Billy a foul-mouthed version of Jack Nicholson, sans breathing apparatus. I gave him a spellcaster’s bandolier that allowed him to draw several of his potions on the fly.  In the end it didn’t matter: Billy knew the heroes were coming and swigged all the relevant potions he would need.  The battle took a surprise twist that would have repercussions on the rest of the campaign.

Overall, I was happy with the drama and angst this adventure generated.  It was a clear sign to the PCs that the gloves are off, as represented by the “loss” of the King in Yellow’s protection.  We’re now playing in the big leagues, and the heroes are going to have to step it up if they plan to survive.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Prologue*

As usual, the streets of the Merchant District were much quieter than those of the neighbors, which made Sebastian stand out even more than usual.  A long carriage passed by as he made his way down the street; its driver noted his demonic appearance with a look of disdain.

“You could use a spell to disguise yourself, you know,” said Kham.

Sebastian shrugged.  “Why should I?  Our names have been cleared.  A mob has already tried to kill me and regretted it.  It’s time they learned to fear me instead.”

“Something’s wrong,” said Beldin.  “There’s no one at the gate to greet us.” 

“The energy I felt last time we approached the house is noticeably absent as well,” said Sebastian.

They made their way to the front door, only to discover it unlocked.  

Kham pushed open the door and then stopped. “Oh, this can’t be good.”

Copious splashes of blood lined the floor, walls, and even portions of the ceiling. The bodies of the two guards were still there, their throats slit.  They were ritually mutilated, their bodily fluids used to sketch arcane symbols around their lifeless forms in an all-too familiar pattern.”

“More sacrifices to Leviathan,” said Sebastian.

They went room-by-room, weapons at the ready.  

The souvenirs that had once lined Carthy’s halls were now in various states of disarray.  The captain’s wheel lay on the floor in pieces, the fishing net had been ripped down, and the harpoon and shark jaw both shattered.  The sitting room was in much the same condition.  The couches and chairs were cut open, the drawers from the desk were emptied, and the books that lined the walls littered the floor instead, their bindings systematically removed and tossed in a corner. Oddly, both of the paintings were missing, cut from their frames.

Nothing was left intact; even the walls hadn’t escaped unscathed, with several holes punched through at random. They made their way up to the second floor.

Several drops of blood dotted the steps.  They entered Carthy’s bedroom.  

Kham looked around. “Carthy didn’t give up without a fight.” 

One of the windows was smashed in and there were slashes that could only have been made by edged weapons.  Jagged sprays of blood decorated the walls and floor.   

Sebastian kneeled down and tugged something from the wall.  

“What’s that?” asked Beldin.

“A piece of fabric,” said Sebastian.  “Probably from a Cultist of Leviathan.  Whoever came for Carthy paid for the privilege in flesh.”

They turned and walked back downstairs towards the exit. 

Skiz stuck his head out of Kham’s haversack.  “You hear that boss?”

Kham put one finger to his lips and cocked his head.  Then he nodded.  

He drew two of his pistols. “Whoever took Carthy is still here.”


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 1 – The Getaway*

Kham kicked open the door and Beldin barreled through, shield raised.  A multitude of pistol blasts hammered his shield and shredded the doorway.  

Kham stepped backed into the doorway when the blast subsided and fired off two shots.  The cultists, arrayed in a semicircle around the opening to Carthy’s home, ducked behind cover.  

Sebastian was next.  “Fulminous arcus!”  

Four cultists in a line were immediately fried as electricity sparked between them. 

“Get the sextant!” shouted another cultist dressed in red robes that stood atop the carriage they had seen before.

Kham grabbed two more pistols from Skiz.  “I KNEW I should have blown that thing up when I saw it.”

Two cultists jumped from the roof on top of Sebastian.  They struggled with him for a second, but the dark-kin shook them off.  His wings snapped outwards and with a mighty heave, Sebastian launched himself into the air and out of their grasp.

The lead cultist swore.  He shouted a command and the driver of the carriage clucked the horses into a gallop.  Sebastian flew overhead.  Withdrawing a wand from his robes, he took careful aim…

And suddenly a sphere of force appeared in front of the horses.  Unable to stop, the horses reared up, only to have the carriage smash into them, scattering its occupants.  

Sebastian hovered, surveying the wreckage. 

A flash of red robes whistled past him.  The cultist leader was flying!

Sebastian flapped after him.  He could match the cultist’s speed, but not for long…the dark-kin would tire justly as easily as if he had run the same distance.  

“Dracuul,” he commanded.  “Follow him.  Don’t let him see you.  I want him to think I gave up.”  

Sebastian’s little bat familiar squeaked an affirmative and flapped after the flying cultist.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 2 – Libertyville*

Beldin sat in the simple rowboat that carried him and Kham.  He concentrated as the wave carried them aloft and then gently deposited them on the shores of Libertyville.  Sebastian landed in front of them.

“The cultist went into that building,” he pointed at the largest structure.

Beldin looked around. “If this place is supposed to rival Freeport, it’s got a long way to go.”

Ha half-dozen huts were arranged in a semi-circle, facing the beach with what was probably the town’s signal fire in the center.  A guard tower and another small structure whose function was not immediately clear formed a part of the town.  All the buildings were in various states of decay, and most were slowly smoldering into ashes.  

“This is the aftermath of the Unspeakable One,” said Sebastian. 

Kham made a beeline for the tower.  A set of steps wound its way up past a number of arrow slits before ending in a platform above. 

Sebastian looked up.  “I hear the sound of metal scraping on stone above.  I’ll check it out.”  He flapped up out of sight.

Beldin and Kham exchanged looks. 

”Sounded like something heavy being dragged,” said Kham.  “Like a metal container of some sort.”

Beldin shoved Kham out of the way. “Get back!”

The dwarf was doused with boiling oil.  He roared in pain, struggling to wipe the oil from his face and beard. 

Something else fell slowly, lazily towards them, trailing flames as it went.  Kham’s mind barely had a chance to register that it was a torch.

He snapped one hand out to catch it.  Beldin and Kham stood frozen, with the val holding the burning torch just inches over the dwarf’s head. 

Kham slowly edged the torch away from Beldin and rubbed it out against a wall. 

Beldin started breathing again.  “That was close.  Thanks.”

Kham nodded.  “Now to deal with whoever threw that torch…”

There was a scream and a blur of blue robes fell past them.  The cultist landed with a crunch.

“Never mind,” said Kham.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 3 – Antechamber*

Sebastian found a wheel that opened a secret door in the bottom of the tower.  It led to a shaft, with a ladder that ended in darkness.  Kham went first.

As he was climbing down, there was a strange creaking sound and the ladder suddenly snapped into the wall.  Kham let go and slid to the bottom. 

He kicked out both of his feet just as he neared the bottom, catching himself in a corner of the tight shaft.  He skidded to a halt. Looming below him were several sharp spikes. 

Kham let out a long, shuddering breath.  “Whew.”

A second later several hundred pounds of armored dwarf landed on top of him. They rolled and fell.  Kham grunted as one of the spikes scraped the breastplate he wore beneath his overcoat.  For once, he was glad he had it on.

Sebastian landed with a flap of his wings.  “You really need to work on your trap detecting skills,” said the dark-kin.

“I’m not really the trap-finding type,” said Kham.  

Beldin was battered and bruised.  “We noticed.”

They walked forward through a wider corridor.  Kham was further ahead, Beldin in the center, and Sebastian behind.  

One of the stones beneath Kham’s foot gave slightly. He heard a small click.

“Guys—“ warned Kham. But it was too late. 

An iron portcullis crashed to the ground behind Kham and in front of Sebastian, trapping Beldin and separating them.  

Cultists stepped out of rotating walls in the rooms beyond and behind the dual portcullises, pistols at the ready.

Kham shook his head.  “You Freeporters really don’t deserve Althares’ gifts.”  He drew his own pistols in a flash, fired, and holstered them again.  

Two of the four cultists facing him looked in shock at their bloodied hands.  

There was an explosion behind them.  Sebastian was dealing with the cultists he encountered in his usual way. 

“And for my next trick, here’s the gift of the dwarves.”  There was a soft whirring sound as Kham and Beldin switched places, trapping Kham in the portcullis and leaving Beldin free. 

The cultists took a horrified step back as the dwarf advanced on them.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 4 – Desecrated Temple*

Kham kicked open the double doors.  

Several mosaics depicted humanoid fish-like creatures performing rituals to an octopus-headed god.  Although all of the scenes illustrated joyous events—bountiful harvests, successful hunts, and the like—they seemed dreadfully wrong somehow.  Arcane symbols riddled the six columns that ran the length of the temple, some of which were etched with knives and chisels, some painted with large swaths of blood. But it was what lay in front of the altar that stopped Kham in his tracks. Or rather who.

Lying in a pool of his own blood, his clothes in tatters around his battered form, was Ezekiel Carthy.  He was breathing, barely. 

A line of cultists stood in front of the three steps that led to the altar, and more stood on either end of the platform on which the altar rested.  A man with a shock of thinning, greasy hair, slick back straight on his head, stood over Carthy.  He slowly lowered a cocked pistol to his prisoner’s head, another pistol in his other hand. Though he was some distance away, his threats were clear.

“Look at you!” he bellowed.  “Standing there like you’re just going to !#(%ing stride in here and just !#(%ing take what I worked so hard to steal?  NO you won’t, you !#(%ers!” He addressed the other cultists. “You’re all a !#(%ing disappointment.  I’m so !#(%ing disappointed.”

“Well if it isn’t Billy Bones,” said Kham.  He cocked both of his pistols.  “Let Carthy go.”

“I don’t think you’re in a !#(%ing position to be giving orders, do you? If you take just one more step, ONE MORE, your friend here won’t live to see you take another!”

Kham fired both pistols.  Billy Bones’ own pistols went flying.

“You dumb !#(%er!” Billy rubbed his hands. “Kill them!”

The cultists unleashed a barrage of pistol fire.  Kham and Beldin ducked behind the nearest pillars as Sebastian stepped out. 

The temple was long and narrow, no more than twenty five feet wide.  

One of the cultists got out: “Uh oh.”

“Algor conus!”

A blast of freezing cold covered nearly every cultist in the room, stopping just short of Billy Bones and Carthy.  

Kham swigged a potion.  Then he ducked out from behind the pillar at a full run.  He leaped and ran up one wall as a blast of flames wooshed down upon Sebastian and Beldin, summoned by Billy’s outstretched hand.

Kham stood upside down over Billy Bones’, Talon and Coomb’s dagger at the ready.  For a moment they were eye to eye.  Kham winked at him as he drew back to stab the Billy in the face.

Billy grabbed Kham by the throat.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!” chanted Billy Bones.

Then he snuffed out Kham’s life.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 5 – The Great Betrayal*

Kham watched in utter shock from the deck of his ship, the Emma, as Francisco’s fleet was utterly obliterated by the collective Continental fleet.  Only he wasn’t Kham anymore, he was Zoltan Zaska, a vain, swaggering, swashbuckler. 



> “Drac betrayed Francisco!” shouted the beautiful Black Jenny Ramsey, the love of Zoltan’s life.  She was a flighty, fiery heiress whom Zoltan had initiated into the life of piracy.  “He betrayed us!”
> 
> Carthy was there, shaking his head, chuckling to himself.  “I should have seen it.”  The explosions were deafening.  Pirates abandoned their ships, swimming desperately to nowhere.  “Drac must have made some sort of deal with Coryan.  He’s getting rid of his enemies and making Freeport legitimate in one fell swoop!”
> 
> “Our fleets will be destroyed,” his Daen Danud, a proud, cruel captain.  “All of my plans…lost…”
> 
> Moab Cys’varion, the elorii, shook his head.  “I owe a blood debt to Francisco.  And this is how he repays me?”
> 
> “We are running out of options,” said Zoltan.  “Perhaps it is time to reconsider His offer.”
> 
> Cannonfire tore through plank and sail.  Pirates screamed all around them.
> 
> “Would he…would He offer it again?” asked Daen, suddenly hopeful. “We all had the same dream…”
> 
> “Perhaps,” said Carthy.  “If we all swore an oath together, He might reconsider.”
> 
> “Then I so swear!” shouted Moab, his face twisted into a hideous expression of rage.  “Leviathan! If you save me now I will serve you!”
> 
> “As will I!” shouted Daen.
> 
> “And I,” said Carthy, a little less enthusiastically.
> 
> Seeing her lover make such an oath, Jenny grabbed his hand and shouted into the storm of fire and death.  “As do I.”
> 
> Zoltan was overcome with jealousy.  But he managed to keep his voice steady.  “I do so swear,” he said as heroically as he could muster.
> 
> Suddenly, the explosions stopped.  They were standing upon a coastline of mingled mud, ooze, and weedy Cyclopean masonry which could be nothing less than the tangible substance of earth's supreme terror - the nightmare corpse-city of R'lyeh, that was built in measureless aeons behind history by the vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars. Only a single mountaintop, the hideous monolith-crowned citadel whereon great Leviathan was buried, actually emerged from the waters.
> 
> All five of the pirates were awed by the cosmic majesty of the dripping monolith of elder daemons.
> 
> “Whatever this is,” said Daen, “it is not of this or of any sane planet.”
> 
> They were awed at the unbelievable size of the greenish stone blocks, at the dizzying height of the great carven monolith, and at the stupefying identity of the colossal statues and bas-reliefs.
> 
> The city was difficult to comprehend.  It had vast angles and stone surfaces - surfaces too great to belong to anything right or proper on Arcanis, and impious with horrible images and hieroglyphs. The geometry of the dream-place was abnormal, non-Euclidean, and loathsomely redolent of spheres and dimensions apart from Arcanis.
> 
> Carthy and the others clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks that could have been no mortal staircase. The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarizing miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in the crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance shewed concavity after the first shewed convexity.
> 
> Something very like fright had come over all the explorers before anything more definite than rock and ooze and weed was seen. Each would have fled had he not feared the scorn of the others, and it was only half-heartedly that they searched - vainly, as it proved - for some portable souvenir to bear away.
> 
> Zoltan climbed up the foot of the monolith.  “There’s something here!”
> 
> The others followed him and looked curiously at the immense carved door with the now familiar squid-dragon bas-relief.
> 
> “It’s like a great barn door,” said Jenny.  There were ornate lintel, threshold, and jambs around the door, though they could not decide whether it lay flat like a trapdoor or slantwise like an outside cellar-door.
> 
> Moab pushed at the stone in several places without result. Then Daen felt over it delicately around the edge, pressing each point separately as he went. He climbed interminably along the grotesque stone molding—that is, one would call it climbing if the thing was not after all horizontal.
> 
> “How could any door in the universe could be so vast?” asked Carthy.
> 
> Then, very softly and slowly, the acre-great lintel began to give inward at the top; and they saw that it was balanced
> 
> Daen slid down along the jamb and rejoined his fellows, and everyone watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal. In the fantasy of prismatic distortion it moved anomalously in a diagonal way, so that all the rules of matter and perspective seemed upset.
> 
> The aperture was black with a darkness almost material. That tenebrousness was indeed a positive quality; for it obscured such parts of the inner walls as ought to have been revealed, and actually burst forth like smoke from its aeon-long imprisonment, visibly darkening the sun as it slunk away into the shrunken and gibbous sky on flapping membranous wings. The odor rising from the newly opened depths was intolerable.
> 
> “I think I hear something…a nasty, slopping sound,” said Zoltan.
> 
> Everyone listened, and everyone was listening still when It lumbered slobberingly into sight and gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness.
> 
> They looked up in horror at Leviathan in his full majesty. The Thing could not be described—there was no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled.
> 
> “You are my Full-Fathom Five,” it somehow communicated.  “Under my direction, you will become the scourge of the seas.  You will plunder and spill blood as no pirates before have dared, for you will do it tirelessly, and you will do it with a god at your side.  You will teach the navies of the world that what they have bought is not peace but a respite.  And you will teach the pirates of Freeport that they are not worthy to bear that title.  They will join us or they will be thrown out to sea—piece by piece.”
> 
> Five items appeared before them.
> 
> A ship’s bell materialized in front of Daen.  “With one peal of this bell, you can summon, create, and control the undead, raising skeletons from the sea floor or zombies from the butchered corpses of an adversary’s deck.”
> 
> A spyglass appeared before Moab.  “Peering through this spyglass will allow you to travel between planes—flashing out of nowhere to slaughter a ship’s crew and then vanishing while the water flows red and hot with fresh blood.”
> 
> To Carthy appeared a sextant.  “Angling the sextant into proper position will give you easy transit of the world’s oceans—your sails will fill even in a doldrums, and your decks will stay dry in the roughest seas.”
> 
> A hook appeared before Jenny.  “This hook will give you the power to dominate men’s minds.  The mightiest admirals will quail at the sight of your sails on the horizon, and your follows will endure any torture, die any death, if it furthers your cause.”
> 
> Finally, a pistol was in Zoltan’s hands.  “This pistol will control the creations of men’s hands, ruining the weapons of your enemies, or warping ships’ planks until the nails fly out of them like shrapnel.”
> 
> Zoltan looked down at the pistol.  Next to Jenny, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
> 
> “Hello ladies,” he whispered to them both.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 6 – The Apostate*

Floating in between worlds, Kham continued to experience the history of the Freeport’s most notorious pirates.



> The Full-Fathom Five, with a god at their head, embarked on the most savage mission the oceans had ever seen.  Within just a few weeks, they had captured and sunk dozens of vessels, putting their crews to the sword in blasphemous rituals while Leviathan’s avatar looked on in ecstasy.
> 
> Coryan sent a warning to Freeport: this had to stop NOW.  Drac’s successor, Sea Lord Cromey, knew only too well how much the city stood to lose if it went to war.  So, assembling a fleet of the most trusted captains on the island, he took to the waves to seek out and destroy the marauding band.
> 
> Cromey’s men met the Five on the high seas, and they fought frequent and bloody battles.  Always, their projectiles exploded in the air before striking the Five’s armada, and their grappling hooks melted when they struck home.  Then, when the Freeport fleet closed enough to send men over to the enemy vessels, they discovered far greater problems: whenever a Freeporter fell, he rose from the blanks as a gibbering zombie, hungry for the flesh of his former comrades.
> 
> Cromey grew desperate.  Then he remembered Hell’s Triangle.
> 
> The patch of ocean had become legendary as a graveyard of ships, for those who sailed in never returned.  Even if the skies were clear for miles around beforehand, when a ship actually approached the Triangle, storm clouds soon gathered and winds whipped the boat.  Then all became quiet.
> 
> Cromey knew he couldn’t beat the pirates in a straight fight.  But he thought he might be able to do the next best thing: lure them into the Triangle and drive them out of the world forever.  He readied his captains for a frantic game of cat-and-mouse in the most dangerous water in the world.  It was a mad plan, but it was the only chance Freeport had left.  It had to work.
> 
> It was a bleak moment for Freeport.  Then fate lent a hand.
> 
> Cromey, pacing his flagship, paused in shock as a bloated hand, dripping brine and stinking of death, slopped onto his deck. The pathetic creature that stumbled aboard looked familiar.
> 
> “Carthy?”
> 
> “It is I,” croaked Carthy.  “Please, hear me out.”
> 
> Cromey’s officers, thirsty for vengeance, drew their blades and advanced on Carthy.
> 
> “Wait,” said Cromey.  As he looked into the undead man’s face, something there reminded him of the man who had gone to his death valiantly in the service of the city.  “Stand down.” The men grudgingly lowered their weapons.  “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
> 
> Grateful for the courtesy, Carthy explained the whole bloody history of the Full-Fathom Five in Cromey’s cabin.
> 
> Cromey was unimpressed.  “Your tale sickens me, Carthy.”
> 
> Carthy didn’t react.  “I know what you’re trying to do.  The Five know well of the Triangle.  And they will approach it without fear because they have a tool that will let them survive its battering seas…or at least they believe they do.”
> 
> With that, he drew a sextant from his coat pocket.  The brass device pulsed with magical energy and bathed Cromey’s cabin in an otherworldly blue light.
> 
> “This sextant,” said Carthy, “is one of the artifacts Leviathan brought to the world when he clothed himself in flesh.  Without it, their fleet cannot survive the maelstrom. And without me on their side, you should have a fighting chance to defeat them. Such is my penance,” he added with a faint smile. “I throw myself on your mercy, though I deserve none.”
> 
> Cromey took the sextant and turned it over in his palms.  He felt as though he were holding all of Freeport in his hands.




Kham awoke gasping on an altar, Peg-Leg Peligro worriedly hovering over him.

“Cadic be praised!” he shouted.  “Ye’ve been brought back!”

Kham sat up.  “Brought…back?  I was…dead?”

“Aye.  And not just dead; yer spirit was nearly obliterated too.  I didn’t think I had th’ power in me, and frankly I still don’t,” said Peg-Leg seriously.  “Cadic must have somethin’ special in mind fer ye.”

Kham blinked.  “I think I need a drink.”


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 7 – Hell’s Triangle*

Captain Baldric, Peg-Leg Peligro, Sebastian, Beldin, and Carthy were all huddled on deck in front of the Nǎoké. 

“Kham!” shouted Beldin.  “You’re alive!”

Kham smiled and waved.  “Great to see me too.” He was stinking drunk.  

“We were just discussing which ship to take into Hell’s Triangle.” Sebastian indicated Captain Baldric and the Nǎoké. “But it seems that problem has been solved.”

“Aye, I’ll be takin’ ye into th’ Triangle mesself.”

Kham scratched the back of his head.  “This wouldn’t have to do with the publicity coup that a victory would bring you in snaring that seat on the Captain’s Council, would it?”

Baldric shot a glare at Peligro with his good eye.  “Ye sure he’s been dead all this time?”

Peligro grinned.  “Aye, deader than a doornail.  But Cadic has other plans for ‘im, methinks.”

“I’m telling you, this isn’t a good idea,” said Carthy.  “There’s man-eating sea creatures larger than any ship, and a strange fog that envelopes everything traveling into the Triangle.”

“Hell’s Triangle is four days from Freeport,” said Sebastian.  “The Moonsilver Orb will open a portal to R’lyeh.”

“Those who enter the Triangle do not return,” said Carthy.  “Even if you survive the horrors of the Triangle, I don’t know what awaits you on the other side.  We might never be able to return to this plane of existence.”

“I do,” said Kham sternly.  “We’re going, Carthy, get over it.”

“What about Vlad?” asked Beldin.

“We cannot wait,” said Sebastian.  “We’ve been waiting for days while Peg-Leg was trying to revive you.”

“Pardon me for slowing you down,” said Kham with a smirk.  He walked across a plank onto the Nǎoké and lay down on the deck.  “I’m ready whenever you are.”


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 8 – There’s a War Going On, You Know*

The Triangle’s waters varied greatly.  Most often, the seas surrounding it were rough, sporting whitecaps and making sailing difficult.  Sometimes the Pale Sea’s wrath was terrible, with swells of up to twenty feet.  

“All hands t’ battle stations!” shouted Baldric.  “Enemy craft sighted!”

A small, fast galley with two masts was visible.  A Kolter Titan GG swivel gun was mounted on the port and starboard sides, and its figurehead was carved in the shape of a snarling wolf.

“That’s Red Wolf’s ship,” said Kham.  “A skohir tribesman.”

“Th’ must be hired by th’ Emperor,” said Baldric.  “Already, th’ war has come t’ Freeport.  Well then, let’s bring Freeport t’ th’ war!” He drew a cutlass and pointed at the ship.  “Fire at will!”

Sebastian flew up into the air and unleashed a blast of flames.  The heat washed over the ship to no effect.

There was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning blasted into Sebastian.  He spiraled down to the Nǎoké’s deck, trailing smoke as he went.

“They’ve got powerful magic defenses,” Baldric said quietly.

The two ships pulled alongside each other.  “Time to get up close and personal in that case!” shouted Kham.  He grabbed some of the ship’s rigging and drew Talon.

Baldric stepped off the deck of the ship, using the power of Cho Sun’s ring to form a bridge made of water between the two ships.  A dwarf stood on the other side.  “Come, ye Illirite dog!” snarled the dwarf.  “Stumpy Hookhand be waitin’ fer ye!”

More lightning arced between the ships as a one-eyed Altherian caster wearing a tall black top hat and a dress coat, but little else, gestured and chanted.  

Sebastian got to his feet.  “That’s it.  Now he’s made me angry.”

Kham slashed the rope and swung through the air.  As he was at the apex of the swing, the rope snapped. 

“Son of a…”

Kham dropped like a rock into the water.  

Sebastian whispered something and his flesh turned stone gray.  Then he turned to face the rival wizard.

Three glowing motes of electricity crackled into existence around the enemy caster.  He pointed and the orbs sizzled after Beldin and Sebastian.

Sebastian withstood the attack and countered, hurling a green orb at his opponent.  It fizzled upon impact with a magical field that encompassed the wizard.

Beldin blocked Stumpy’s mace with his shield.  When he counterattacked with Windcutter, he suddenly understood why the dwarf’s last name was Hookhand.  The dwarf caught the haft of the axe in a wicked hook that covered the stump of his arm. 

They stood immobile, weapons locked. “It’s disgraceful, to see you selling your services to humans like this,” snarled Beldin.

“Spare me ye blather,” spat Stumpy.  “I serve the Coryan Emperor these days.  Which side be YE on?”

The mote of electricity struck Beldin and he staggered backwards, nearly falling off the deck.  Stumpy pressed his advantage.

Cannon fire echoed back and forth between the two ships.  Clayton “Red Wolf” Saragosa roared in rage and charged after Beldin.

The dwarf ducked as the skohir swung his huge axe. It bit deeply into Stumpy’s throat.  The dwarf, gurgling a curse, fell to the ground. 

“You’ll pay for that!” shouted Red Wolf.  He swung the axe over his head in a masterful display meant to intimidate his opponent.

Beldin was unimpressed.  He kicked Red Wolf’s knee, knocking him off balance.  Then he followed up with a vicious hack to the barbarian’s upper arm.

“Ye cannot beat me, mon!” shouted the one-eyed wizard at Sebastian.  “Ye fightin’ me on me own turf! I can resist anytin’ ye throw at me!”  

“Oh yeah?” Sebastian strafed overhead.  “Resist this: Algor conus!”

He unleashed a freezing blast of rime onto the one-eyed wizard.  Several pirates, much of the ship, and the wizard himself became flash-frozen statues.

Red Wolf roared again in frustration as he realized the battle was lost.  He slapped Beldin hard with the broad side of his axe.  The dwarf struggled to get to his feet, but much of the deck was frozen. Seeing his chance, Red Wolf raised his axe…

Only to look down at the sizzling hole in his torso.  Beldin could make out Sebastian’s flapping form on the other side of it; Red Wolf was the recipient of one of the dark-kin’s acid orbs.

Red Wolf fell to the deck.  

Beldin picked up the axe.  “Adamantine,” he said in appreciation.  “That will do nicely.”

“What happened to Kham?” shouted Baldric from the Nǎoké’s deck.  

“I have no idea.”  Sebastian landed back on the deck. “I didn’t see him down there.  But he’ll show up again, I’m sure.  He always does.”


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 9 – The Islands of the Damned*

Kham plunged into the water.  He struggled for breath, trying to think of a way out of his predicament.  He always managed to find one.

And yet, he had been tripped up again.  Acts of derring-do that came so easily to him had suddenly become more difficult.  He felt clumsy and slow.  Perhaps Sebastian was right…maybe he had relied on the King in Yellow far more than he realized.

Then Kham remembered the box.  It turned itself into a boat!  He uttered the command word as he plummeted down, down, down…

And once again he experienced the world from Zoltan’s point of view, plummeting for days.  



> One moment they had been closing with the Freeport fleet, inflicting punishing losses on them, and the next…well, it was hard to say.  A storm struck, and then a wave big enough to drown the entire world crashed into them.
> 
> When the four undead pirates regained their senses, they were clinging to the wreckage of their respective ships, floating through a chain of small islands.
> 
> Daen pleaded for Leviathan’s intercession. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!”
> 
> A charming young man with a roguish smile and icy eyes appeared in their minds eyes instead.
> 
> “Cadic!” wailed Moab.
> 
> “So dogs,” roared the towering apparition, “what capital mischief ye been making!  But now, I’m calling an end to yer gamboling.  I leave ye here, on these Islands of the Damned, to live out the dogs’ lives ye have chosen for yourselves, forever removed from the company of Freeport’s mortals—and their blood, which ye crave, and their trinkets, for which ye kill them."
> 
> Daen renewed his chant for Leviathan, but Cadic’s laughter nearly split their eardrums.  “As for the whelp ye worship, he may be crafty, but he ain’t as clever as he claims.  And now he’ll pay.”
> 
> With that, Cadic revealed Leviathan, hanging thirty feet above the water, surrounded by a whirling globe of chains.  He still bore his avatar form, and the artifacts (minus the sextant) that focused his power circled around him.
> 
> “It’s come to this,” said Cadic.  “One last chance I give ye; renounce yer ways and swear fealty to me.”
> 
> “You will die at my hands!” came Leviathan’s response.
> 
> Cadic gave out a great sigh.  Then he ripped Leviathan to pieces.
> 
> There was a bursting as of an exploding bladder, a slushy nastiness as of a cloven sunfish, and a stench as of a thousand opened graves. For an instant an acrid and blinding green cloud befouled the four pirates. Then bloody chunks of their master plummeted into the ocean, sending up great gusts of steam as they struck.  But Cadic wasn’t done.
> 
> “So much fer yer flesh, whelp,” he spat.  “Yer spirit I condemn to the Abyss.”
> 
> With that, he hurled the divine energy of Leviathan towards the island of R’lyeh where they had first met the squaminous being; it struck with the force of a meteor, plowing a mile-long furrow into the sod.  The force propelled the artifacts from his body sending each flying toward a nearby island.
> 
> “And so ye won’t get lonesome,” jeered Cadic, “here’s the trinkets ye craved so greedily.”  The god opened his palm, and thousands of pounds of gold and jewels and other valuables rained from the sky, burying what was left of Leviathan.  Then Cadic blew across the face of the water, and the island vanished with a whisper of wind.
> 
> The pirates cringed, waiting for Cadic’s next attack, but the god had departed, leaving them to their fate.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 10 – Death Fog*

Eventually, the Nǎoké entered a patch of thick fog.  The water was very still and there was only a slight breeze.  Every sound was magnified in the stillness. The ropes rubbed against the mast, the ship’s boards creaked, and the lapping of the water on the ship’s hull combined to become both annoying and creepy. 

“We’re at the center of Hell’s Triangle,” said Carthy.  “We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, two sailors were yanked out of the fog.  Beldin ran over to the edge, axe at the ready, only to be suddenly snatched into the mists by a huge tentacle. 

“I can’t see it!” shouted Sebastian.  He was afraid to fly too far away from the ship, lest he lose it completely.  “Incendiares globus!” 

The fog was burned away by a blast of flames in the sky.  There, suction-cupped to the side of the Nǎoké, was a horrible green monstrosity.  It had four tentacles, a single eyestalk, and a huge, lamprey-like maw.  

Sebastian caught a glimpse of Beldin being tossed through the air like a seal at the mercy of a shark’s maw.  Then he disappeared into the beast’s mouth.  

That was all the motivation he needed.  Sebastian unleashed another blast of flames.  The thing hissed at him, its mouth moving as it chewed on the undoubtedly tough dwarf.

“Algor conus!”

Ice crusted over the beast.  It shook the rime off with a shrug of its rubbery hide.

Crossbow bolts dotted its hide.  To Sebastian’s amazement, they popped out after a moment.

“It’s healing itself!” shouted Carthy.

Sebastian shook his head in disbelief.  He had to stop this.

“Multimodis oris!”

Shimmering blue jaws appeared in the air.  Sebastian pointed and they sailed after the thing on the ship, gnawing on its blubbery hide.  Finally, the beast reacted, flailing helplessly as it struggled to dislodge the jaws.

It released its hold on the ship and fell into the water with a mighty splash.  Red stained the water and the thing’s floating carcass drifted in the water.

Beldin burst out of it, sputtering.  He concentrated and rose out of the water, landing effortlessly on the deck.

“Took you long enough,” said the dwarf. “I had to keep drinking healing potions in there just to keep myself alive.”

Sebastian slapped his forehead.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Part 11 – The Malestrom*

The skies began to look dark and ominous and the winds picked up tremendously.  Thunder rattled the decks and lightning lit up the skies.  Then the seas turned rough and the rains came, bringing the storm in earnest.  And still there was no sign of Kham.

Sebastian lifted the Moonsilver Orb over his head and the storm parted.  The stars and the moon hung brightly in the sky.  A swirling wind drove the Nǎoké toward the Triangle’s center.  A massive, swirling patch of water opened up.

Lightning rose from its depths toward the cloudless sky.  An ear-shattering thunder boomed occasionally, causing the hull to vibrate.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Beldin asked, staring dubiously at the huge whirlpool in the center. 

“I have no idea!” shouted Sebastian over the thunder.

“It’ll tear us apart!” shouted Baldric.

As the ship closed in on the whirlpool, Carthy stood on the forecastle and raised the sextant above his head.  He spoke a word in a strange tongue. 

In an instant, a golden sphere of force surrounded the ship in a protective bubble.  The lightning and water raged around them, but the sphere kept all within safe.

“Will that help any other ships nearby?” asked Beldin.  “Just in case Kham’s still out there, I mean.”

Carthy blinked.  “Perhaps.  If he’s close enough…”

Suddenly, a dreadful presence overcame them.  It was barely humanoid, with insectoid like legs and a skull for a head.  Covered in bone and with a long, whipping tail behind it, the devil advanced on Carthy.

“An Osyluth!” shouted Sebastian.  He handed the Orb to Baldric.  “Beldin, get back!”

But it was too late.  The osyluth’s mere presence paralyzed Beldin in terror.  He was unable to move. 

Sebastian swooped over to touch his dwarf ally. “Tergus lapideu!”

The beast latched onto Beldin and tried to tear him apart, but it found the dwarf to be as hard as stone. 

“Algor conus!” Sebastian flew up into the air and unleashed a blast of cold at the devil.  The thing slowly turned to look up at him.  

Sebastian swallowed hard.  

Then it was somehow in the air next to him.  It landed on Sebastian with both claws, its hindlegs digging into his torso.  They slammed into the deck.

“Freeport is for Losknek’s to own and no other!” it hissed. 

Sebastian felt something prick his flesh just above his thigh.  He struggled to move, but it seemed as if his very strength was leaking out of him through the window.

The devil howled as Beldin’s axe bit deeply into the back of its skull.  It whirled to face him.

Peg-Leg was chanting, pointing at Beldin, bestowing the blessings of Cadic upon him.  The dwarf stood between the devil and Carthy.  

The devil hissed and stepped over Sebastian to renew its attacks upon the dwarf. Sebastian struggled to his feet.  Even with his protective magic, Beldin was no match for the devil one on one.  

He summoned what little remained of his strength.  “Multimodis oris!”

Jaws flew out to latch onto the devil’s arms.  Its tail was caught in mid-strike, keeping the poison stinger at bay.  

The devil struggled in vain, helpless.  

Beldin struck a killing blow. The Osyluth burst into flames and disappeared. 

Sebastian collapsed to the ground.


----------



## talien

*Red Skies: Conclusion*

The ship sank beneath the waves within the sextant’s protection.  As it sank, Carthy began to change.  His flesh took on a deathly pallor.

”I die now, but not with regret,” said Carthy.  “You have given me a chance to pay for my past crimes, and I thank you for it.  I was one of the Full-Fathom Five! I sailed with those vile brutes nearly two centuries ago.  We were once the finest captains who ever sailed the seas, and we served proudly in Freeport’s navy. But Drac betrayed us and left us for dead; and to save our lives we traded our souls to Leviathan.  The crimes we committed upon the oceans, I dare not speak.  They grew too great for me to bear, and I knew the Five must be stopped.”

Beldin stood with Baldric in the pitching storm.  “So that’s what’s been excised from Freeport’s history all this time?”

Carthy nodded. “Leviathan had five artifacts on his person.  I stole the artifact that gave him command of the seas, the sextant.  The captains of Freeport drove the Five into Hell’s Triangle, where the vortex swallowed them.  But I fear they live still, those bloodthirsty brutes.  And I fear they have collected the rest of Leviathan’s artifacts, which would make them unspeakably powerful.”

“Th’ same sextant that ended up in Drak Scarbelly’s gut,” said Baldric sadly.  “And look where it has brought ye.”

“Beware the Full-Fathom Five, my courageous friends!  They are cunning and vicious beyond my power to describe!  But you must battle them all if you hope to return.  For the artifacts unlock R’lyeh’s treasures.  You need them all to find what you seek.  But they hold secrets you can’t imagine…the dark powers of Leviathan…and his Son…”

“Son?” asked Beldin.  “What son?”

But Carthy was fading fast. He slumped to his knees.  “Farewell, and may Cadic put wind at your backs.  I ask one favor before I depart.  If you still see Jenny Ramsey, tell her Ezekiel Carthy still…still…”

Carthy gasped for breath and his broken body fell to the deck. 

Suddenly, the ship slipped through the whirlpool and fell from a great height.  With a tremendous splash that threw everyone to the deck, the ship landed upon a wide ocean.  Above them, the whirlpool disappeared.  

Sebastian got to his feet, the weakness passed.  All around them was a green ocean and a sky filled with unknown stars.  

“We made it,” he said breathlessly.

“But we be where, exactly?” asked Baldric.

“And who else is with us?” asked Beldin.  “I saw something.  Two ships, one large, one small, drawn in as well.”  

Sebastian flew up to survey their surroundings and then landed again.  “Well, I don’t see anything now, but it gets hazy at a distance.”

“Then we’re stranded here,” said Beldin.

“There’s something else,” said Sebastian.  “Four islands.”

Baldric clapped Sebastian and Beldin on the back.  “We made it through!  There are the islands, but we seem t’be missin’ one…R’lyeh itself, I assume.  Well, that means we have time to gather th’ artifacts that Carthy went on before th’ sextant killed ‘im.  Poor lad.”

Of Carthy’s body, there was no sign.


----------



## talien

*Chapter 62: Islands of the Damned - Introduction*

This scenario is from the Black Sails Over Freeport adventure “Red Skies at Morning” by Green Ronin, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
•	Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

With the pending birth of my son, I knew I wouldn’t have a lot of time to game in the near future.  So I had to wrap up a bunch of Black Sails Over Freeport adventures quickly.  Five islands in just twelve hours...it seems impossible.  What the time pressure did for me as a DM was really condense all the cool parts of Black Sails Over Freeport, allowing me to discard the stupid parts.  

The adventure actually inserts a vampire mcguffin, whom I transplanted from the Arcanis game (the only friendly vampire who could possibly be interested in working with the PCs, I might add).  Haron von Grebel wasn’t thrilled to be working with Kham, but it’s better than slaving away for all eternity under Daen Danud.  I was particularly proud of the makeover I gave Daenud, whose Blood Magus powers came in…uh, handy.  It also was the absolute longest battle in my twenty years of gaming; long enough that spell durations finally just ran out. The fact that I role-played Daen as a foul-mouthed Skeletor from the He-Man cartoons probably didn’t help his image. 

Zalton Zaska’s creepy machinations remained, but the endless warring by his clones was glossed over.  I also skipped the majority of the stupid Skull Dugger Drawler/Mauler/Trawler/Bawlers. Speaking of Zaska, Kham’s player wanted to remake his character, and Zaska allowed me to basically inject Antonio Banderas directly into his skull.  

Upon defeating Zaska, the PCs are effectively in control of a floating fortress.  Von Grebel helps them plot their attack on Sycorax (aka Black Jenny Ramsey), but things don’t go as planned.  Thus we have a nail-biting race against time before the skull fortress smashes into Sycorax’s pyramid.  There wasn’t too much monkeying around either, if you know what I mean. 

That leaves one last bad guy, Moab Cys’varion.  He’s no dummy.  The PCs have three of the four artifacts, and the artifact Cys’varion controls allows him to gate anyone to anywhere.  For once, the bad guy goes on the offensive!

Overall, the biggest challenge wasn’t escaping the islands.  It was Kham and Sebastian’s frustration with getting lots of gold but no resolution.  While Beldin and Vlad were rolling in riches, the two tortured souls wondered what the hell they were fighting for.  In the next chapter, they’re about to find out.


----------



## talien

*Islands of the Damned: Prologue*

Someone yanked the blindfold off of Vald’s face.

“Remove his gag,” said a familiar feminine voice. 

Vlad blinked his eyes.  They had caught him at a weak moment.  He had stayed the night at the Marquis Moon in Patricia’s company, only to wake up in the darkness, stripped of his armor and weapons. 

Rough hands undid the gag.  

Vlad focused on the woman in front of him. She wore black studded leather and knee-high boots.  Her waist-length flame-red hair was tightly woven into dreadlocks, and a wicked scar crossed from the top of her forehead to the middle of her right cheek.  

“Baumann,” he croaked.  

“That’s right,” said Captain Morgan Baumann with a smirk.  “Looks like the rumors are true.  She wasn’t exactly a serving maid, but yer tastes run a little callow, don’t ye think?”

Vlad swallowed a few times, trying to generate saliva again in his mouth. 

“I’m goin’ to ask ye some questions,” said Baumann. “I want answers.”

Vlad tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his head just lolled in her direction.  “Go ahead.”

“Where were yer friends going?”

“Going?” Vlad blinked.  “Hell’s Triangle.  After R’lyeh.  Leviathan.”

Baumann nodded.  “Right.  I know all about that.”

“How?”

“Because we’re trapped in Hell’s Triangle along with ‘em, idiot!” snapped Baumann.  “I want t’ know how we get out!”

Vlad tried to peer around him.  He was in a small cabin.  Another pirate stood with a cutlass out.  They feared Vlad even when he was tied up. 

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment.  “I was along for the ride.”

“Bah,” said Baumann.  “They must have told you something.”

“I can find them for you.” Vlad licked his lips.  “Give me my sword and my armor and I’ll lead you to them.”

Baumann barked a vicious laugh.  “I’m no fool.  I know what that sword o’ yers can do.  I’ve seen it in action.  Ye’ll not be seein’ yer sword again until you get us out o’ here.  But in the mean time,” she nodded at the pirate, who leaned forward to put the blindfold over Vlad’s eyes again, “I’ll let ye think on it.  Call if ye change yer mind.”

Everything went dark again.  The door opened and closed.  Vlad could hear footsteps, above and below, and men talking in whispers.  They were afraid, Baumann’s bravado not withstanding.

They had taken his sword and shield, true.  But Vlad had another trick up his sleeve, literally. He wiggled his ring finger on his left hand.  

“Ye keep th’ sword away from ‘im,” said Baumann on the other side of the door.  “But in the mean time, figure out how t’ use it.” 

Yep, it was still there.  The Carcosan Ring.  Sebastian had infused it with his spells once more.  

With a roar, Vlad strained and snapped his cloth bonds.  He tore the blindfold from his face.  

Footsteps stumbled towards the door. Vlad kicked it open with one booted heel and was rewarded by the sickening crunch of wood on flesh.  The door splintered open and Vlad kept going.

There was another door across the cramped quarters.  Vlad bashed right through it.  Flimsy wooden doors on ships were hardly a match for the huge Milandisian.

Within, another startled pirate held Grungronazharr in his hands.  Cries of distress echoed all over the ship.

Vlad shoved forward, grabbing the pirate by the throat.  He spun so that his back was to the hull of the ship, one hand on the hilt of Grungronazharr. 

“There’s no escape,” snarled the pirate, who still held onto the blade by its scabbard.  

Vlad hooked one foot onto the bundle of armor and shield, folded neatly on the floor. Vlad  tugged and Grungronazharr came free in his right hand just as he lifted his left palm, leaving the pirate with just a scabbard.

“You’re right,” said Vlad.  “You should have run while you had the chance.”

 The Carcosan Ring unleashed a blast of flames.  The pirate disintegrated in the conflagration, but Grungronazharr protected Vlad.  The explosion launched Vlad outwards through the weakened hull and into the ocean. 

With the Kraken’s Claw on fire, Baumann’s crew was too preoccupied to give chase.

After a desperate moment when Vlad struggled to keep his armor and shield from sinking to the bottom of the ocean, he began swimming to the nearest island.


----------



## talien

*Islands of the Damned: Part 1a – The Isle of Undeath*

As they navigated along the northern side of the island, Sebastian spied an inlet in the distance.  When the Naoke sailed close enough for a better look, they saw a cove that extended inward for almost a quarter mile.

After a blessing from Father Peg-Leg, Beldin steered a rowboat past the rocky reef and landed on the island.  The slope leading to the island proper became steeper as Beldin climbed, and the rocks and dirt were moist from sea spray.  By the time the dwarf reached the top lip, he was wet and covered in a lot of mud.  

Sebastian landed next to him.  Beldin tried not to glare at the dark-kin with envy.

“From what I can see, there’s a forest over there.”  Sebastian pointed to the right.  “It appears to have been left undisturbed for hundreds of years. To our left,” he pointed to the left, “is an expanse of grasslands that follows the gradual slope of the eastern half of the island.  The highest point that I can see is a large tower on the far eastern end of the island that rises about fifty feet.” 

“So the tower it is.”  Beldin was struggling to get some of the water and mud out of his armor.  It was working its way into some uncomfortable areas. 

“There’s also, closer to the middle of the island, some sort of stone table.”

Beldin stopped wringing out one of his boots and remembered Cho Sun’s ring.  He concentrated and the mud sloughed off of him.  “Sounds like an altar.  Which means trouble.”

“Which means that’s our next stop.”  Sebastian flapped into the air again.

Beldin stumped along when he suddenly paused.  His footsteps sounded different.

The dwarf looked down at his feet.  

The dark-kin flapped overhead.  “Guess who I found wandering the beach?” he asked cheerily.

Vlad came into view.  “Hi—”

The dwarf disappeared without a word as the trapdoor beneath him gave way.

“That’s not the reception I expected,” said Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 1b – The Isle of Undeath*

“Go, go, go!” shouted Sebastian.  He flapped overhead, barely navigating the ten-foot wide corridor with his huge wings.

“More ghouls?” asked Vlad fearfully.  They had encountered a room full of armed and armored ghouls, unlike the ones who skulked the drug dens of Freeport.

“Worse,” shouted Sebastian over his shoulder.  “Skeletons.”

“Bah!”  Beldin turned, Windcutter at the ready.  “I’m not going to run from a bag of bones.”

Vlad bounced on his heels, torn between running after Sebastian or staying to help his friend.  “How many?”

“More than I can count!” shouted Sebastian as he turned the corner out of sight.

A bleached mass of roiling bones came into view around the corner.  They skeletons crawled and scrabbled over each other like ants, filling the entire hallway up with their mass.

“On second thought…” the dwarf took a few steps backwards. 

“Beldin!” Vlad tugged on the dwarf’s shield, which was strapped across his back.  “Let’s go!”

They both ran down the winding corner, back the way they had come.  Wherever the first artifact was, its owner most assuredly knew that intruders had arrived. 

They ran past Sebastian, who hovered overhead in a four-way intersection.  

“What are you doing?” asked Beldin, opening a door on the other side of the room.

“Slowing them down: Atrum pampinea!”

Wriggling black tentacles sprung up behind them.  The skeletons didn’t hesitate, surging right into the boiling mass of tentacles, their advance merely slowed but the grasping tendrils.

“Glad to see your tentacles are no longer yellow,” said Vlad. He followed Beldin into the room.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 1c – The Isle of Undeath*

A very peculiar tableau unfolded before them: in the southwestern corner of the room, the lower half of a pallid corpse was sticking out of a hole in the floor.  A zombie was slowly jumping up and down on the corpse, assisted by two brethren, who were attempting to force down the lifeless form by prodding it with their swords.  Three more zombies stood before them, patiently waiting for their turn with a body of their own.  

The zombies whipped their heads around with looks of what could almost be mistaken for shame passing over their twisted miens.  But the look faded to their customary grimace, and the grunts of effort changed to low moans of menace.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Sebastian.  “Incendiaries globus!”

The room was ablaze with flames.  

“I’m not sure,” said Beldin, “but I think one of the zombies fell down the hole.”

A door on the other side of the room burst open as a patrol of ghouls came charging in. 

“More ghouls,” sighed Vlad. He held Grungronazharr before him as if to ward off the ghouls by its mere sight alone.

The lead ghoul, wearing chain mail, smiled a wicked, toothsome grin…

That was promptly blasted off its skull by another of Sebastian’s fireballs.  

Beldin was busy with his back to the door, heels dug in.  “I can’t keep this up all day you know!”

The door shuddered from the skeletons on the other side.

“Nor can I,” said Sebastian.  “It appears we are trapped.”

“If you keep that up, you’ll certainly die here.” A humanoid form coalesced out of the hole where the zombie disappeared.  “This has to be the most poorly planned attack I’ve ever witnessed.”

The dark-kin squinted.  “Von Grebel?  I thought we left you back in Canceri.”

Haron von Grebel was unmistakable.  “I could say the same about you.  I was on a mission for Akali Vervain, hidden in the cargo of a ship bound for Freeport, when it was swept off course.  The Leviathan Bell called me to Daen and I’ve been stuck here ever since.”

“So you’re not here to fight?” asked Vlad.  He hadn’t lowered his sword.

“No.  I’m here to help.  The only way I can be free of Danud is if you kill him.  I’ve been plotting my escape for months.”

The door shuddered.  Bony fingers protruded from beneath the door and around the hinges. Beldin grunted, straining to keep it closed.

“And what do you get out of it?” asked Sebastian.

“I cannot cross running water or travel in the daylight.  You can. You will transport me out of this accursed dimension. Do we have a deal?”

Vlad and Sebastian exchanged glances.

“We don’t have a lot of time here!” shouted Beldin.

“I swear by Sarish,” said Sebastian.  He cut his palm and offered it to von Grebel.  

The vampire licked his lips, staring at the scarlet dripping from the dark-kin’s hand.  He cut his own hand. No blood flowed from the wound.  They shook on it.

“Jump down the hole and it will lead you directly to Daen.  I will block the other entrances with cave-ins. That will keep his minions from reaching Daen before you can finish him off.”

Sebastian didn’t ask questions.  He folded his wings and dove into the hole.

“That’s it?” asked Vlad.  “That’s the plan?  Jump down a hole?”

Von Grebel disappeared in a puff of smoke. A second later, Beldin rushed past him and dove after Sebastian.

It took Vlad only a second to realize what the running dwarf signified.  Closing his eyes, he jumped into the hole just as bleached claws reached for him.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 1d – The Isle of Undeath*

Beldin kicked open the door with a giant-sized foot, thanks to the growth effects of several potions. He almost seemed like a titan of old.

The room was filled with barrels, dripping with a blackish-red substance that could only be blood.  In the northeastern corner of the room was a small copse of tree-like stone formations. Four hairless, rotting apes swung from the branches to block their path.

On the other side of the room stood Daen.  He wore a cowl that concealed his features, leaving a bleached skull to glare at them with tiny red fires for eyes.  His jaw clacked as he spoke, connected only by magic. 

Beldin engaged two of the apes, who wielded spears.  Vlad took on the other two, trying to keep them at bay.  Sebastian hovered behind them.

Daen strode confidently toward the fray.  Blood, crackling with vile energy, covered him from head to toe.

“You are powerful to have come this far.” His voice was a nasal, high-pitched rasp.  “You will make a formidable addition to my legions.  Answer me true, and your death will be quick and almost painless.  Who sent you?”

“You should worry less about who sent us,” said Sebastian, crackling with magical defenses.  “And more about saving yourself.  Incendiares—“

Daen laughed and pointed at Sebastian.  “Oh, that’ll be enough of that: resolvo veneficus!”

Sebastian blinked as the fireball poofed out of existence in front of him. He slowly flapped to the ground, his defenses fading.

Vlad smashed one of the gorillas across the face with his shield and stabbed it through the heart.  The thing roared in his face, the stench of death washing over him.  Vlad’s opponent was no mere gorilla; it was an undead gorilla.

“And this nonsense!” Daen pointed at Beldin. “Dwarves becoming giants? Don’t be ridiculous: resolvo veneficus!”

Beldin shrunk back to his normal size.  Even at his normal size he was still a formidable opponent.  One of the gorillas lunged at where his head would have been and paid for it when Windcutter separated the ape’s leg at the kneecap.

“We’ll see if your defenses can stop this,” a glowing orb of bluish white appeared in the dark-kin’s upraised palm, “algor globus!” He threw the globe at Daen.  

The lich caught it in his palm. He examined it as if he were examining a piece of glass.  “Interesting.  They’ve been teaching you pups some new spells, I’ve never seen this one.”  Daen crushed the globe in one bony fist.

Vlad blocked one of the gorillas spear attacks by chopping it aside with Grungronazharr.  Before the ape could react, he stabbed it through the skull.  The blow was powerful enough to put it down.

Beldin wasn’t faring as well.  The change in size had thrown him off balance.  One of the apes advanced on him.

“Vinculum fulmen!” chanted Sebastian. Electricity surged between the undead gorillas and Daen.  Two of the gorillas collapsed in smoking piles of roasted flesh.  The third advanced on Beldin. Daen was completely unaffected.

“Bah! I didn’t need those ridiculous minions anyway.” Daen laughed.  "Gorillas?  Only Ramsey would use gorillas!” He pointed at Sebastian.  “Now feel the wrath of my tentacles!”

Black tentacles sprung up around Vlad, Beldin, and Sebastian. A twisting tentacle wrenched the remaining gorilla’s head off.

Beldin and Vlad struggled to escape.  Sebastian took to the air, but one of the tentacles snapped around his ankle.  It was all he could do to stay aloft.

“And now that I have you where I want you,” sneered Daen, “feel the fatigue of centuries!”

The lich put out one hand and a wave of shimmering air swept over them with a WOOM-WOOM-WOOM sound.

Sebastian struggled to move.  The spell was sapping their energy. Vlad and Beldin shifted from trying to remove the tentacles to avoiding being squeezed to death.  Fortunately, they were protected by Sebsatian’s magics.

“Bow before Daen Danud!” sneered the lich.  “For I am the Lord of Despair!” He pointed one palm at them and another WOOM-WOOM-WOOM wave hit them.  The urge to bow before Daen became nearly overpowering.

“When I am finished with you, you will beg to serve me in undeath! Pitiful fools, you can’t even move, can you?” 

Vlad and Beldin struggled in slow motion as Daen warped even time itself.  

Sebastian finally broke free of the tentacle.  “My turn,” he said with a snarl. “Resolvo veneficus!”

The tentacles disappeared.

Beldin and Vlad, clearing their heads, staggered forward.  Daen put his arm at his sides and a sickening green mist surrounded him.

“Yes, come to me, fools!  Come to your death!”

“Poison!” shouted Beldin.  “You’ll have to do better than that!”

Vlad charged into the greenish fog with a roar, but the mists overcame him. He fell to his knees in front of Daen, overcome.

“Who said anything about poison?” cackled Daen.  He tapped Vlad on the forehead.  “You’ll find your own blood betrays you!”

Vlad’s eyes bulged.  He hopped to his feet, choking. The Milandisian stumbled back out of the mists.

“Vlad?” asked Beldin uncertainly. 

Vlad clawed as his throat.  He gasped out a warning, but a bloody gurgle was all he could manage.  His eyes bulged red with blood.  Blood leaked from his ears and nose.

Then a torrent of blood and gore erupted from Vlad’s mouth and shot across the room.  It ran from his nostrils and ears, and then his eyes burst from the pressure, and the gushing continued from his empty sockets.  

With a horrible shriek, Vlad exploded, his blood firing outwards as if it were stretching of its own volition.  Then, just as quickly as it had exited his body, the blood sucked back in like a snail hiding in its shell.

Vlad’s drained corpse clattered to the ground.

“Illiir have mercy!” shouted Beldin, kneeling over what was left of Vlad’s corpse.  “I’ll kill you for that!”

“No,” shouted Sebastian.  “Retreat!  I’ll keep him busy.  You can’t take him in your weakened condition.”

Beldin took a few steps backwards.  Sebastian was right, the poison was sapping his strength. 

“Yes, run little dwarf,” sneered Daen.  “Your Milandisian friend has it all under control.  Don’t you, Vlad?”

And then Vlad got back up.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 1e – The Isle of Undeath*

Kham appeared in a flash.

“Hey Sebastian.”  He waved at the dark-kin, as if he hadn’t just walked in on a massacre.  “What’s going on?”

“Shiver in fear before the frozen depths of hell!”

Sebastian didn’t have time for banter.  “Look out, he’s casting a—“

Kham dove to the side as a cone of freezing wind blasted towards Sebastian.  The dark-kin shrugged it off.  Some of his defenses were still in place, and it was fortunately the one that protected him from cold.

“And who are you now?” asked Daen, clearly aggravated.

“Nobody important,” said Kham.  He drew his pistols.  “But I’m guessing you’re a bad guy.”

“Oh, I’m not so bad once you get to know me,” clacked Daen.  “But I’ll like you much better dead, I think.”  He pointed at Kham. 

Nothing happened.  

Daen looked at his pointer finger.  “Hmm, that usually works.”

“Don’t let him touch you!” shouted Sebastian.  “He killed Vlad!”

Kham looked around for the corpse.  “Where’s his body?”

“Behind you!”

Kham ducked just as the shriveled, blood-drained corpse of Vlad swung at him.  

Kham winced and closed his eyes as he pushed both pistols against the corpse’s chest. “Sorry buddy.” 

The corpse bounced off of the far wall, propelled by dual blasts from Kham’s pistols. It collapsed, inanimate.

“This is becoming tiresome.” Daen shouted towards the door.  “Where are my minions?  Why aren’t you dead already?”

Kham reloaded his pistols. “This guy giving you a problem Sebastian?” 

Sebastian ducked and weaved around the chamber, flitting like a dragonfly to avoid becoming a stationary target.

Daen sighed.  “I can see I’m going to have to kill you with my bare hands.  Very well.” He pushed up one sleeve on each forearm, blood spattering across the floor as he did so.  

“Oh no you don’t,” said Sebastian. “Atrum pampinea!”

Black tentacles sprung up, encircling Daen.  The lich sputtered in rage.

“Hey, your tentacles are black again,” said Kham.  “That’s great!”

Beldin came back into the room with a roar.  “This time I’m going to finish you off!”

The dwarf charged straight into the mist, only to rebound as he collided with an invisible force field. “What the…?” 

“No living creature can touch me if I do not wish it so,” sneered Daen.  “And I do not wish it.”

“We’ve got to make him come to us,” Sebastian whispered to Kham.  “Keep him busy.”

Kham winked at Sebastian.  “You know, this was too easy.  I just teleported right in here.  If you’re supposed to be some powerful magic-type guy, you really suck at it.”

“Did you think that your foolish plans would actually work?” Daen shrugged and the tentacles sloughed away, retreating into the ground. “You think I didn’t know what von Grebel was planning?  I let him lead you to me!”

“I think you’re lying.  I don’t think you have a clue what you’re doing,” said Kham.  “Carthy was right—“

“CARTHY?!” shouted Daen.  “You dare speak that name in my presence?”

“I dare!” shouted Kham.  He pointed two pistols at Daen.  “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I will flay the skin and sinew from you writhing form!” The lich advanced on Kham.  “And then I will use the sextant you used to gain entry to my dominion to raise Leviathan from his slumber, and you will come to think of my ministrations as a lover’s embrace!”  

The lich’s protective shell disappeared as he stepped out of it. He was within touching distance of Kham.  “NOW DIE!”

Daen reached for Kham just as Sebastian landed from above.  The dark-kin’s hand was outstretched, a spell charged in his palm.

Daen grabbed him by the throat.  “Foolish gnat!” Sebastian’s fleshed turned blue and his eyes rolled in his head at Daen’s touch.  The lich tossed him aside without effort.  “Now where was I…oh that’s right…”

“NOW DIE!” shouted Beldin as his axe nearly bisected Daen, smashing into his spine.  The lich went flying, screaming as he went. His body crunched into the ground. 

Kham grabbed Sebastian’s body.  “Time to go.  Beldin, grab what’s left of Vlad!”

Daen slowly rose to the floor, arms flung out from his body as if he were being drawn and quartered.  His body began to shake as a sphere of energy enveloped it.  

“I’ve got him,” said von Grebel, who appeared out of nowhere. “Do you have the bell?”

Daen’s screams became more feverish and high-pitched, and it appeared that he could not possibly open his mouth wide enough to excise all the pain and suffering he experienced.

“Yes!” shouted Beldin.  He rapped Windcutter against something in his backpack and it gonged in response.  

The crackling sphere surrounding Daen brightened.  Then it stopped.  The sphere contracted, folding the shrunken corpse of Daen upon itself as it grew smaller.

“So that’s what took you so long.” Kham fingered the medallion at his throat.  “Hold on to me.”

Daen’s corpse grew still smaller until it reached half its size, a quarter, and then even smaller than that…until only a sparkling circle the size of a gold piece hung suspended, spinning rapidly.  

“You!” snarled von Grebel.  “I thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, I thought you were dead too," said Kham with a smirk. "But now’s not the time to argue about it.”

Even the minuscule remnant that was Daen collapsed inward, warping the space around it as it disappeared.

Von Grebel set his jaw and held onto Kham’s coat.  Beldin did the same. 

For a moment, all was silent.  They disappeared with a flash just as the world exploded.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 1f – The Isle of Undeath*

“How did you get here, anyway?” Beldin asked Kham.

They were all concealed in the brush near one of the stone altars.  Starlight illuminated their features.

Kham shrugged.  “When I got knocked off the ship, I threw my folding boat and landed on it.  I drifted for a while, unconscious.  When I woke up, I followed you guys.”

“So you were the other ship we saw when we got sucked into the portal.” Sebastian was hunkered down, watching the altar intently. 

“And the Kraken’s Claw was the third,” said Vlad.  “Captain Baumann’s ship got sucked in as well, that’s how I ended up here.”

“I’m not sure I like this plan,” said Beldin.  “And I definitely don’t like that Bell.”

Sebastian held the gold Leviathan Bell in his hands.  It pulsed with dark energy.  “According to von Grebel, Zoltan Zaska’s flying fortress will seek to rescue one of his many clones from the other island. The bell controls the zombies.  So it’s simply a matter of ordering them to kidnap one of Zaska’s clones and bring him here. ”

“Then what?” asked Vlad.

“The fortress will attempt to rescue him.  That’s when we board.”

“Sounds simple,” Kham said sarcastically.

“But what happens once they bring the victim to the altar?” asked Beldin.

Von Grebel appeared before Sebastian could answer him.

“They’re coming.  Get down!”

The undead slowly dragged their captive toward the altar.  Although the man looked like he had given up hope of escape, he suddenly began to struggle with the last of his remaining strength.  His voice, now hoarse from screaming at the unfeeling creatures holding him, managed a few incoherent utterances.  Despite his efforts, his captors did not break their shambling stride. 

“Sebastian…” began Beldin.  “I don’t think…”

Two of the undead creatures forced the man down onto the slab, while two others methodically manacled him to the table.  The remaining monster slowly removed a long ebony dagger from its scabbard.  Once its companions secured the prisoner, it dispassionately sliced the man’s throat.

“No!” Beldin’s cry of dismay was drowned out by the roar of something massive descending from the sky. 

A shadow passed over them with a whoosh of air that nearly knocked them flat.  

Above them was a skull—a gleaming polished skull at least twice as big as a man-o-war.  The eyes were giant rubies, illuminated from behind with a hellish red light.  Its jaw clanked and grinded, exposing a maw large enough to swallow a dozen men. 

The clone, his doom certain, gurgled in pain as a spray of blood erupted from the gash in his neck.  His captors unsheathed their swords and held them loosely at their side, waiting for the inevitable to come. 

The Skull’s mouth opened wide as it dove right towards the altar.

“Now!” shouted von Grebel. 

They ran flat out towards the altar. 

Vlad reached it first.  Earth and foliage plowed upwards as the lower half of the jaw dug into the earth.  Kham was right behind him. Sebastian flew upwards into the mouth.  

Beldin was not as fast.  The mouth consumed the altar, the victim, and the zombies.  It began to close as the Skull moved upwards.

Kham sighed.  With a flash, he disappeared and Beldin was standing in his place.

A few seconds later, one of Kham’s hands appeared clutching the top of the Skull’s lower tooth.  He rolled in just as the mouth clamped shut. 

“We made it!” said Vlad.

The sacrificial victim was dead, his pale corpse in stark contrast to the halo of blood that spread around him in the mouth of the Skull.  The zombies, their task completed, collapsed in a ring around the victim, creating a macabre scene.

Sebastian held the Bell in his hands, holding it tenderly to his bosom like a newborn babe.  “Sacrifices had to be made.”

Beldin stood over the body, shaking his head.  “But at what price?”


----------



## talien

*Isle of the Damned: Part 2a – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They crawled through an aperture in the Skull’s mouth into a large, high-ceilinged room dominated by two massive metal cylinders, one on each side.  Metal walkways lined the wall far above and two large vats were suspended among them.  

Ahead, racks upon racks of swords were set on a series of tracks in the floor.  Everything in the place clanked loud enough to deafen them—undercut with a sinister groaning and hissing.

“What the hell is this place?” asked Vlad.  

A voice boomed around them.  “BATTLE IS TRUTH!”

Sebastian pointed up at the walkways above.  Just then, six pirates hopped out from their hiding places near the metal cylinders and charged towards the ladder.

Glittering, polished metallic skeletons atop eight-foot frames landed in the pirates’ path.  They had reinforced plates across their chests and arms that scraped the floor.  There was a hint of flame in their hollow sockets.

“Baumann’s men,” said Vlad.  “They must be after the artifacts!”

Kham looked suspiciously at Vlad. “What did you tell them?” 

The rack of swords suddenly whirred to life and row after row of them filed out towards the mouth.

“THE SWORD IS GOOD!” bellowed the Skull.

“What?” shouted Vlad.

“We have to get up there!” shouted Sebastian.  He flapped into the air. 

The pirates engaged the metallic skeletons with cutlasses, but they were clearly outmatched.  Kham, Vlad, and Beldin slipped around one side and climbed the ladder.

“BLOOD FOR THE SKULL!” echoed the voice.

Kham reached the top and then ducked down. “Look out!”

Flames whooshed over him.

“What now?” asked Vlad.  

“Big angry headstone,” said Kham.  He leaped up onto the platform.  Vlad and Beldin followed after.

A large stone head, the size of a man, faced the ladder.  

“I’ll distract it!’ shouted Sebastian.  “Keep going!”  

The dark-kin darted to and fro in the air before the headstone.  The head moved to track him. 

Sebastian ducked another blast of flames from the headstone’s mouth.  When his companions were through the door on the other side of the headstone, he flew past it and shut the door behind him. 

Just before he closed the door, the voice bellowed: “THE SKULL GIVES LIFE!”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2b – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

The corridor extended straight for about thirty feet, then curved to the left, sloping gently upward.  The corridor, like the rest of the Skull, was smooth white ceramic, with just enough flat space down the middle of the floor for easy walking.

“Hear that?” asked Vlad.

Kham nodded.  It was strange, atonal music.  

After another hundred feet, the corridor curved again to the left, becoming a walkway.  As the corridor bent, the wall fell away and they found themselves on a gangplank overlooking a vast atrium bathed in crimson light—from the round ruby windows.

“That light is from the Skull’s eyes,” said Beldin. 

Small crowds milled around the floor of the atrium, which was dominated by a revolving statue of a massive, ornate sculpture of a pistol.  The gun, at least thirty feet high, appeared to be the source of the music.  Dissonant notes echoed through the high-ceilinged chamber.

Kham slapped his forehead.  “I really hope that’s not the artifact.  Because I don’t think I can carry that.”

They kept walking, peering into each room.  One room was a nursery, with cradle upon cradle filled with babies.  Two of the metal things patrolled the aisles, attending to the crying infants.  

“What kind of place is this?” asked Beldin, horrified.

“According to von Grebel, it’s where Zoltan Zaska raises his clones.” Sebastian nodded towards a painting hanging on the wall of the room.  It was of Zoltan, who somehow managed to look both roguish and beatific, cradling a child in his arms. 

“They seem well taken care of,” said Vlad.  

Indeed, the strange skeletons were surprisingly gentle with the babies, picking them up and rocking them to sleep, feeding them milk from a beaker, and adjusting their covers.

“This place creeps me out,” said Kham.  “Let’s get the Leviathan Pistol from this psycho and get out of here.”

They moved on to the next attraction on Zoltan’s parade of grotesqueries: children five to ten being drilled in pirate history by an eloquent metal skeleton.  The children wore different-colored robes, all shades of red.  

“Black Jenny was the most beautiful woman in the world,” said the skeleton in an incongruous feminine voice, “a siren of the deep.  But Ezekiel Carthy was a boorish coward.  It was thanks to Leviathan that Zoltan was rescued, along with his four companions, and…”

Kham shook his head.  

“You know about the Full-Fathom Five?” asked Sebastian.

“My father devoted his life to the study of pirates, remember? Yeah, I know all about them.  And what that…thing in there is teaching those kids is a pack of lies.”

They kept moving.  The next room contained several groups of teenagers learning the ins and outs of courtly life.  Several practiced sword fighting, while others learned proper manners at an elegantly appointed table.  Still others learned to dance the quadrille.  In all cases, the strange metal skeletons accompanied them: as fencing partners, dance partners, and servants.  

They hurried past to a domed, red-lit chamber, where young men and women sat in rows before a podium.  A metallic skeleton in white robes stood beside a fountain.  

“All praise Zoltan Zaska, the beneficent and magnificent.”

“All praise His name,” said the congregation.

“We believe in Zoltan, the father of the Great Pistol, given to him by the Lord of the Oceans.”

“All praise His name.”

“It is he who provides bounties of food, who keeps those in the Skull in peace and harmony, who lets the brutish give vent to their passions,” said the skeleton.

“All praise his name.”

“Someday,” said the skeleton, addressing the young men in the audience, “you will return to the savage lands beyond this castle and try to become the image of your master–to lead the barbarians beyond their bloodlust so that may return to the master’s fold.”

“This is sick,” said Vlad.

“And you,” the skeleton addressed the women, “will have the most glorious responsibility of all–continuing Lord Zaska’s line, until he decides his people are worthy of salvation and he rejoins them from his secret chambers in the upper reaches of the fortress.”

“He’s breeding them?” Beldin asked in disgust.  

“They are clones, after all,” Sebastian said dispassionately. 

“Now Daughters of Darkness, come drink of the Fountain of Life,” commanded the skeleton.

“Secret chamber, huh?” Kham loaded two of his pistols.  “It’s time Zoltan met my Daughters of Darkness.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2c – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They appeared in an empty room of gleaming white ceramic.  In the middle of the room stood a man dressed in full-on swashbuckling gear: a longcoat, tri-cornered hat, and polished boots—the whole nine yards.  

“Zoltan Zaska,” said Kham with a frown.

Zoltan took off his hat and bowed deeply.  “Indeed, it is I!” he said with a thick Salantis accent.

Sebastian launched himself into the air.  “Enough of this nonsense, let’s kill him and get the pist—OOF!”  

The dark-kin collided with an invisible wall.

Sebastian landed, rubbing his nose.  “Walls of force.”

“You have done admirably well on all of my tests so far,” said Zoltan, sneering.  “You have proven yourselves superior in mind and body.  But now you must prove that you can take on de toughest challenge of all: being Zoltan Zaska!”

Vlad turned to Beldin.  “Is he serious?”

“Can you survive de same challenges I have lived through? If so, you earn de right to meet me face to face!”

Kham looked around.  “So let me guess: you had to figure out how to navigate an invisible maze once?  When was this, when you were still a toddler?”

Zoltan grinned.  “Close!  Even being born was a challenge for me.  My twin sister died in the womb, as and she did, her umbilical cord wrapped itself around my neck.  I escape strangulation and made it into de world by the slimmest of margins.  Perhaps you can do de same!”

Beldin shook his head.  “So this maze is a parallel for his birth?”

A section of the wall on the opposite side of the room shimmered away and two of crab-like beasts with mouthfuls of writing tentacles clattered forward.

“Then what do those represent?” asked Vlad.

“Don’t ask,” said Kham.  “I suggest we start moving…”

Vlad and Beldin turned and advanced on the carapace-covered monstrosities.  The creatures promptly scurried through the maze, snorting and clicking their hideous claws as they bumped against the invisible walls. 

As the two warriors engaged the beasts, Kham felt his way along the maze. He edged closer and closer to Zoltan.

“Very good Kham, come on!” shouted Zoltan.  

Kham was within arm’s reach of Zoltan, Talon at the ready, but more invisible walls were in his way.

Zoltan twirled one pistol in his hand. “Let me tell you a secret, Kham.  I’m not Zoltan.”

Kham kept feeling his way around the walls.  “Why am I not surprised?”

“I am, in fact, one of his sons.  I returned to dis very fortress to fight my father.  Only those chuuls stopped me.  I would have died, but for de mercy of my father.”

Kham walked away to Zoltan’s left and then turned back towards him.  He was almost there.  “So he made you some kind of crazy taskmaster for this maze?”

“Aye.  He condemned me to guard it for de rest of my life. But I believe you can succeed where I failed.”  Zoltan waved his pistol at the ceiling and said, “Arkabus.”

A hatchway opened in the ceiling above him, leading to the next room.

Kham faced down Zoltan.  “If you’re not the real Zoltan, there’s not much point in fighting you, is there?”

The Zoltan clone nodded sadly. “No, there isn’t.”

Then the clone put the pistol to its head and pulled the trigger.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2d – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They emerged in a nightmare version of a young boy’s room.  There was the normal furniture one would expect to find: a bed, writing desk, dresser, bookcase, and toy chest. There was also the usual mess of toys and books scattered on the floor.  What wasn’t usual was that everything was five times its normal size.

“Aha,” another Zoltan clone announced, “you’ve made it through infancy.” He sat on the writing desk by the window.  Through the window, waves crashed against rocks and a breeze of salty air wafted through the room. “But what happens when you start to grow and learn and de world starts to crush you?”

Beldin climbed out of the trap door behind the others. He wiped chuul ichor off of one of his boots. “I think I liked the maze better.”

“My parents gave me everything, but it meant nothing!  I was hollow inside! De only thing that filled me, my only salvation, was the written word—and de lure of the sea!”

Something rolled off to Sebastian’s left.  A small yo-yo rolled out from behind a box and fell on its side.

“Man, this guy’s got issues.”  Vlad brandished Grungronazharr. 

A shadow passed by Sebastian.  He turned quickly but saw nothing. “What was that?”

There was a noise from under the bed. Beldin peered into the darkness.

It was a large teddy bear. 

“Hey!” said Beldin. “Come out here.  Do you know a way out of here?”

The teddy bear walked out from under the bed, revealing fangs, glowing red eyes, yellow horns, and a white skull on its stomach.

“They wanted me to grow up fat and respectable, just like my father!” shouted Zoltan.  “So they lavished me with presents!”

Various other evil toys began to emerge from the shadows: a bright pink pony with flaming hooves, a vicious hell hound with a torso made of a copper coil, a wind-up monkey that banged two cymbals together, and a jack-in-the-box wielding a massive pair of scissors. 

“But I spat them back, and took comfort in tales of fantasy and adventure!”

Kham shook his head.  “This place is giving me bad flashbacks…” he shook his head to snap himself out of it.  “Forget the toys, get Zoltan!”  With a magically assisted leap, he landed on the bed.

Beldin bashed the teddy bear sideways and stuffing flew out of it.  Vlad hunkered down as flames blasted from the mouth of the hellhound toy.

Sebastian launched himself into the air and rained fire down on the other toys.

With another leap, Kham somersaulted off the bed to a stack of books that formed a makeshift staircase leading to the windowsill. 

“Do you have de courage to leave all this behind and escape to de wild ocean?” taunted Zoltan.

Kham tumbled past him and began climbing down the windowsill.  It was a precipitous drop, some hundred feet straight down to a windswept, sea-battered coastline.  A ship pitched against the rocks amidst the roiling waves.

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you kill yourself already.”

Zoltan bowed.  “I wish you ill fortune, as you have taken de step that I could not!” 

Zoltan waved his pistol, hollered “Arkabus!” and vanished.

Sebastian circled past Kham and down to the ship.

“What about the others?” Kham bellowed down to the dark-kin sorcerer.

The teddy bear’s head went sailing past him, bouncing off the rocks as it went.

“They’re right behind us,” said Sebastian smugly.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2e – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They barely had time to reach the boat and find their sea legs when Zoltan’s voice boomed down from the crow’s nest.

“This is where I made my name! On the open seas on moonlit nights.  How about you, mi amigos?  Do you have what it takes to fight on another man’s decks?”

“Where’d the cliffs go?” asked Beldin.

The cliffs behind them had vanished.  Open ocean surrounded them on all sides. A big fat merchant vessel pulled along the starboard side. 

“You know,” said Kham, “I’m getting the impression that style matters more in this place than substance.  Beldin, come with me.”

The dwarf grunted but complied. 

Vlad and Sebastian exchanged glances. 

“Any idea what he’s up to?” asked the Milandisian.

Sebastian shrugged.  “At this point I’m willing to set that other ship on fire along with the annoying fop who keeps shouting at us.”

The hiss of a lit fuse reached them.

Vlad and Sebastian covered their ears just as the cannon below decks fired, launching Kham across to the other ship.  

The val tumbled to his feet on the deck, despite the improbability of it all.  

“That’s the spirit!” shouted Zoltan.  “There’s a rum lad for you!”

The merchant crew’s sailors brandished cutlasses at him as a plump merchant shouted, “My daughter!  Dear Jennifer must be kept safe from those brigands!”

Sebastian flapped overhead and strafed the ship with a blast of flames.  Sailors screamed and fell into the water.

“Poor form!” shouted Zoltan.  “Any dullard can kill a man! It takes a superior creature to force him to surrender honorably! Fight with your head and your heart, not your blade!”

Beldin and Vlad were carried across to the ship by a gentle wave, courtesy of Cho Sun’s ring.  They promptly engaged the sailors, who curled their lips and leapt up into the rigging to dodge their attacks.

“Breaker of hearts and plunderer of galleons, they used to call me!” shouted Zoltan.  

Sebastian flapped up to Zoltan’s level in the crow’s nest. “Give me one good reason not to kill…you?”

There was no one in the crow’s nest. 

Kham was already below decks.  He had heard something…a girl’s cry. 

He ransacked barely after barrel, all containing yards of silk, fine crystal, perfumes and spices. Finally, he opened one barrel and found Zoltan’s dearest treasure.

“Black Jenny,” said Kham, breathing hard from the exertion of tearing open crates and barrels.  

The raven-haired girl stood up from the barrel.  She was breathtaking, with sparkling blue eyes and a heart-shaped face.  But when she spoke, it was Zoltan’s voice. 

“Si, mi amigo!  You’ve found my secret treasure.  She was nothing when I found her, just some wealthy brat.  But soon I realized I had been nothing before I found her!”

Black Jenny’s form melted away and Zoltan stood in her place. 

“Ugh,” muttered Kham.  “What a great way to ruin a rescue.”

“I was so captivated by Black Jenny that I couldn’t bear to leave and progress to de next test.” Zoltan winked at him.  “Which is upon you right now.”  He waved his pistol and shouted “Arkabus!”

And they appeared somewhere else.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2f – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They dropped from the ceiling only to end up in the same maze where they began.  The remains of the chuul battle were cleared away, but they were not alone.

A woman lay crumpled in the center of the room.

Kham put his hands out.  “I think the walls are gone too.”

Sebastian launched himself into the air as Kham, flanked by Vlad and Beldin, closed on the girl. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“I…was taken to Zoltan’s chambers…” rasped the girl.  “He beat me…”

A stooped, withered creature in tattered finery appeared on the other side of the room.   “You’ve found me at last.”

“Yeah,” said Kham.  “Right. Zoltan, you’ve seen better days.”

“In life I was something to behold,” said Zoltan. “Now look at me! Look at how death has ravaged me, what kind of creature it has turned me into!”

“If that’s even the real Zoltan,” said Sebastian from above.

“Now I snatch meager amusements from narcotized slaves.” Zoltan gestured at the girl.  “Like that wretched thing there.  Trying to create an heir that might remind me of what I once was.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.  He began muttering an incantation.  Kham held one hand out.

“Wait.  Let him finish.”

“That’s why I built this island: to create another Zoltan, one who might prove strong and wily enough to confront his father face to face, to prove worthy of carrying on my name. And you,” he pointed at Kham, “you have succeeded.  I suppose you want to kill me, eh?  Then do it! Do your worst!”

Beldin stepped forward.  “Okay…” He raised Windcutter.

Zoltan fell over, cowering.  “Mercy!  Mercy!” he sobbed.  “Look at me!  De release of death is so close…and yet…still I cower and cling to what puny life I have!” 

He offered Kham his pistol.  

“I give you this in place of my life.  And I have put powerful magicks on this weapon to guarantee you don’t take both!  Lay hands on the pistol and it will transport you to your ship immediately and erect a magical barrier on this island.  You will have your prize, but you can never return here!  And none shall ever leave!”

“Don’t listen to him!” sobbed the woman.  “He’ll kill us all!  Destroy the gun and kill him!”

Kham hesitated only a moment.  

“Give me that!” He snatched the gun from Zoltan’s outstretched grasp.  

“Arkabus,” said the grinning ghoul.  Then the weapon melted in Kham’s grasp and he was somewhere else yet again.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 2g – The Boneshaper’s Throne*

They emerged in a room unlike anything they had seen so far in Zoltan’s castle.  It was completely black.  The darkness came from drapes, heavy velvet ones, strung around the room, covering the naturally gleaming ceramic.  Two pieces of furniture dominated the room: a massive four-poster bed, also curtained, and a mammoth pipe organ, which wheezed out the weird atonal music that filled the atrium below.

One hulking mechanical skeleton plunked away at the organ while two others turned the pages of sheet music.  

“Ha-ha!” Zoltan leaped from the curtains, looking as roguish, handsome, and charming as ever.  

“Great,” Kham sighed. “Please tell me you’re the real Zoltan and we can kill you now.”

“I am indeed,” said Zoltan with a smile.  “I have been watching you closely, and you’ve made a fine impression.  If you can best me in a fair battle, I will proudly meet my fate and hand over de pistol.”

“Very funny,” said Kham.  “Like my comrades would ever let me fight you in single combat.  Right guys?”

Silence.

Kham turned around. “Guys?  You’re not seriously going to let me fight him one on one, are you?”

Sebastian landed and crossed his arms.  “You fancy yourself the hero of this madness.  I think you should finish it in true heroic fashion, risking everything on a single clash of blades.”

“What could be more romantic?” asked Zoltan.

“I am not fighting you this way, Zoltan,” said Kham. “That’s stupid.  Guys, back me up here.”

Beldin crossed his arms too.  “I think you can take him.”

“Oh come on…”

“There’s something else that might motivate you,” said Zoltan after a moment.  “When you took de false pistol, you were cursed to transform into a ghoul by the end of de day.” His expression softened.  “Beat me and you will avoid de fate that I could not.”

Kham slapped his forehead.  “Again with the ghoul problem.”

Vlad sheathed his sword.  “I really hate ghouls.” He nodded towards Kham.  “Kick his ass.”

Kham took a deep breath.  “Okay, fine, fine.  Give me a moment.” 

He walked over to the other side of the bed.  “Skiz!” he whispered.

The rat’s head popped out from Kham’s haversack.  “Yeah, boss?”

“Stay out of sight, but run behind Zoltan.”

“Now?”

”Now. Go! Go!”

The rat scrambled out of Kham’s possessions and disappeared under the bed.

Kham made eye contact with Zoltan.  “I’m ready.

“Excellent!” said Zoltan.  “We will duel as in de old days.  We will start back to back, take five paces, turn, and shoot.”  He marched over to the center of the room.  Kham joined him.

“Ready?” asked Zoltan.

Kham loaded one of his pistols. “Ready.”

“Beldin, you’re de most honorable soul here, so I know you will not cheat,” said Zoltan deferentially.  “Please count down to five.”

The dwarf looked flustered, but he complied. “One…two…three…”

They took slow, measured steps.  

“…four…five. FIRE!”

Kham and Zoltan whirled at the same time, pistol at the ready.  But Kham was quicker.  He fired at Zoltan’s pistol hand, blasting it out of his grasp.

The weapon spun in the air in slow motion.

Kham blurred out of existence and appeared behind Zoltan.  In Kham’s place stood a confused Skiz.

Before Zoltan could react, Kham snatched Zoltan’s pistol out of the air and aimed it at his opponent’s head.

Zoltan whirled to look down the barrel of his own pistol.  “Magnificent!” was all he got out.

Kham fired.  A huge gout of flames exploded, disintegrating Zoltan’s head. 

The metallic skeletons stopped playing and marched over to Kham, kneeling before him.  Kham’s companions stood, agape. 

Kham spun the newfound Leviathan Pistol and holstered it.  “I think I’ll name dis one Jenny,” he said with the slightest hint of a Salantis accent.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 3a – White Gorilla Island*

The entire Skull rocked as Kham concentrated yet again on his pistol. The rest of his companions had become accustomed to it.

“We’ve been flying in circles for days,” said Beldin.  “You’re going to crash that thing if you don’t get the hang of it.”

“Hey!” Sweat was on Kham’s brow.  “You’re lucky we’re not being attacked by the Maulers.”

“The what?” asked Sebsatian.

“The Maulers.  The metal skeletons.”

“You know their names now?” asked Vlad.

Kham nodded, never looking away from the pistol.  “I know lots of things now that I have the Leviathan Pistol.” 

“But not how to fly this thing,” muttered Beldin.

Von Grebel sighed.  “We are running out of time.  Sycorax will use her ritual to subjugate her followers today.  We’ve got to invade or it’ll be another twelve days before she does it again.”

“Sycorax?” Sebastian stared at von Grebel.  “Sycorax, mother of Camring, impostor to the Sea Lord’s throne?”

“Black Jenny Ramsey,” Kham said breathlessly.  “She’s taken on a new persona as the White Queen of Gorilla Island.”

“Gorillas,” said Vlad.  “Seriously?”

Von Grebel nodded.  “Sycorax’s slaves built a series of arcane obelisks that focus the Hook’s dominating powers.  Once every twelve days, gorilla work crews travel through the city with wagons filled with human prisoners.  When they reach the obelisks, the gorillas shackle a human to the top of each one and bleed him to death.  The obelisks reinforce Sycorax’s dominance so that her control over every sentient being on the island is complete.”

“Gorillas?” Vlad asked again.  

“Daen had to get those undead gorillas from somewhere,” said Sebastian.  “So what’s the plan?”

“While she’s at the top of her pyramid, absorbing the energy from her sacrifice, we sweep down, scoop her up, and take the Leviathan Hook from her.”

“You think that’s actually going to work?” asked Beldin.

“It has to,” said von Grebel.  “It’s the only time she’s vulnerable without her guards.  Even then, she will be no easy foe.”

The Skull shuddered again.

“Uh oh,” said Kham.

“What do you mean, ‘uh oh’?” asked Vlad, his voice rising.

“The good news is that the Skull is flying towards Black Jenny’s pyramid.”

“What’s the bad news?” asked Beldin, fearing the answer.

“I can’t make it stop.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 3b – White Gorilla Island*

They stood in the entrance to the Skull’s mouth, near the two ornate, gear-heavy structure.

Beldin peered skeptically at the massive metal cylinders.  “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true!” said Kham, hands spread in a plea.  “These cylinders store thousands of gallons of potions of flight.  When I command the Skull, engines inside the cylinders distribute the potions to massive, wheezing bellows, where it is atomized and distributed via hoses to the nozzles on the outside of the craft.”

The Skull shuddered. 

Sebastian knocked a knuckle against one of the cylinders.  “Even if that were true, potions don’t work that way.  You don’t simply spray them in a direction to create an effect.  By that logic I could poor a healing potion over my head and be healed.”

“As a matter of fact, these two vats,” Kham pointed at the vats overhead, “store exactly that.  The Skull showers healing potions on Zoltan’s townspeople after their battles.”

“But potions don’t work like that!” shouted Beldin. 

Kham waved the pistol and the jaws of the Skull began to slowly open.  Roaring wind tore through the opening. 

Sebastian opened up his wings as they caught the air, snapping to his full wingspan. “I suppose if he created them as a form of oil instead…”

“What will happen to the Zaska clones?” Beldin hesitated at the opening. “To the children?”

“They’ll be dead,” said Sebastian without emotion. “Wraps the problem of Zaska and Sycorax up nicely, I think.”

Beldin just stared at him. 

“Look, we don’t have a whole lot of time here!”  Kham drew Talon and slashed one of the hoses that connected to the cylinders.  A bluish liquid gushed from the hose.  “Do you want to argue about Althares’ gifts or do you want to not get smashed to a pulp?”

Vlad waved his hand. “I’d like to not be smashed to a pulp, please.”

Kham turned the hose on Vlad.  He immediately started floating towards the opening.

“This is ridiculous,” grumbled Beldin.

Kham sprayed Beldin next.  The dwarf, arms crossed and beard dripping, slowly slipped sideways out of the mouth without changing his posture.

“Uh, how do I control where I’m going?” shouted Vlad over the roaring winds.  Below them, Sycorax’s ziggurat looked like a tiny scale model.

Kham turned the hose on himself.  

“I have no idea!” he shouted.  Then he dove out of the Skull’s mouth into freefall.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 3c – White Gorilla Island*

The Pyramid of Sycorax dominated the skyline of Gorilla City.  It was, in fact, the tallest structure on the island, and it was visible from most anywhere except the dark heart of the jungle.  It was made from large volcanic-stone blocks in a classic step-pyramid style.  A set of stairs ran up from the base to a wide terrace near the apex of the Pyramid.

The stairs led to a large, ornate set of double doors, beneath an archway constructed of two enormous ivory tusks from some gargantuan beast. Two white gorillas stood guard in front of the doors, with a large gong just to the left of them.

Sebastian landed with a flap of his wings.  The two white-furred gorillas beat their chests as he descended. 

“I’d step out of the way if I were you.”

The gorillas looked at Sebastian, puzzled.  Then they looked up.   Someone was shouting above them.

“—aaaaaAAAAH!” A dwarf-shaped projectile smashed into the first gorilla.  Vlad crashed into the second.

Kham landed atop the gong and leaped off of it to a soft landing. “That was great!” He ran a hand through his hair to adjust it after their freefall.  

Vlad got to his feet, dusting himself off.  “Yeah, great. We just alerted the whole place.”

“I think they know we’re coming,” said Beldin.

Inside the Pyramid, they descended a flight of stairs that opened into an antechamber.  The walls were decorated with ornate carvings and pictograms, depicting a gorilla army led by a majestic human woman, subjugating crowds of cowering humans dressed in rags.  The carvings were inlaid with precious gems from top to bottom.  

They ran down the hall, only to be confronted by five gorillas.  There were piles of bananas and dice on a nearby table.

The gorillas beat their chests in a challenge.

Kham took out the Nkisi n’kondi out of his haversack. Then he pushed in one of its metal bits. 

“Ook! Ook!” said Kham.  He pointed up the stairs, where the slow tumbling Skull was visible at the opening.  “Ooga ook ookg or ooga OOK!”

The gorillas looked at each other and then, bellowing and screeching, leaped out of the room. They tore through double doors on the other side of the room.

“What did you tell them?” asked Beldin.

”That a giant skull is going to smash into this temple in a few minutes and if they want to fight about it, maybe we should all go a little deeper inside.”

“And what did they say in response?” Vlad took up a position next to the double doors, peering around the corner.  “Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”

As one, they charged into Sycorax’s throne room.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 3d – White Gorilla Island*

The room took their breath away.  Gold and precious gems were encrusted on every surface and carved bas-relief depictions of an idealized Gorilla City lined the walls and ceiling. The subjects in the depictions appeared very happy, as if their queen were extremely benevolent.  An ornate throne rested on a raised platform within and covered braziers lit each corner of the room.

“What are you doing, fools?” An unearthly beautiful woman in flowing white robes, tall, raven-haired and imperious stood up from the throne. “Turn around and fight!”

The gorillas, wielding spears, did not hesitate to comply. Beldin and Vlad engaged them. 

“Jenny!” shouted Kham. “Jenny, it’s all right.  We’re not here to hurt you!”

“Did he just say we’re not here to hurt her?” asked Vlad.

Beldin brandished his axe.  “I think so.”

Sebastian launched himself into the air and unleashed a blast of electrical energy from his fingertips.  It arced between the rows of gorilla guards, sending them flying.  

Sycorax turned to face Kham.  “Zoltan?  You’re pathetic.  You’re a shadow of your former self.  You’re even more pathetic because you continue to cling to the idea that you can retain your former glory.  Those days are over!”

The apes quickly recovered. Vlad hacked one ape across the clavicle and it went down hard.  Another smashed into him, the blow from its huge fists nearly dislodging his shield.

“Are you…” Kham squinted.  “You’re WEARING the hook?  Are you mad, woman?  Its power…”

Sycorax, who had one arm behind her back, sighed.  “I had hoped you wouldn’t see that.”

Beldin smashed one gorilla with his shield.  When it doubled over, he hacked it sideways with Windcutter. Just as it went down, another gorilla took its place.

“It’s not hard,” sneered Sebastian.  “Holding one arm behind your back isn’t exactly concealing it.”

“Fine,” shouted Sycorax.  “Then I will show you my true form!”  Her features melted away, and although no one else could see it, Sebastian gazed upon the cursed, wretched husk that had once been the beautiful Black Jenny Ramsey.  He fell to the ground, gibbering at the sight.

Kham turned as an ape leaped upon him and fired the Leviathan Pistol.  The ape disintegrated in mid-air. He stared at the Leviathan Pistol in disbelief. “Wow.” 

Vlad finished off another gorilla and charged towards Sycorax.  Beautiful once more, a cutlass appeared in her hand.  “Your blood will taste especially sweet.”

She parried Grungronazharr and retaliated with a backwards slash of the hook attached to her left hand.  He danced backwards to avoid being eviscerated. 

Kham drew two more pistols and took aim at Sycorax. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Hurt HER?” Vlad parried as Sycorax’s cutlass bounced off his shield.  “Tell her to not hurt ME!”

Beldin swiped at Sycorax with Windcutter, but she easily blocked it with the Leviathan Hook.  “Even together, you are no match for Sycorax!”

Sycorax made good on her boast, pressing both warriors backwards as she parried and block, feinted and lunged.  She held Beldin off with the Hook and Vlad with her cutlass.

“We just need the Hook!” snarled Vlad.  “Beldin, if you can distract her…”

Beldin swept low with his axe, kicking Sycorax’s legs out from under her.  She landed on her back with a thud.

Vlad held Grungronazharr over his head, taking aim at Sycorax’s wrist…

A scorching pain in Vlad’s weapon hand caused him to drop his blade. “What the…?”

“Don’t hurt her!” shouted Kham.

Sycorax screamed.  Beldin stood panting over her with a bloody axe, the severed hook rolling across the floor before him. 

Kham fell to his knees, tearing at his hair.  “Noooo!”

Vlad picked up Grungronazharr, his hand dripping blood.  “You…shot me?”

Sycorax’s form blew away like a sand sculpture in a windstorm.  The mist trailed along the floor towards the back of the throne room.

“I knew it.”  Beldin started to pursue.  “She’s a vampire!”

Kham suddenly got back to his feet and walked over to Sebastian.  “Beldin, let her go.”

“I’m not letting a vampire get away that easily…”

Vlad picked up the Leviathan Hook and advanced on Kham. “You SHOT me?” 

Kham sighed.  “We can argue about this all day.  But in case you forgot, THERE’S A GIANT SKULL ABOUT TO CRASH INTO THIS PLACE!”

Beldin took one step forward towards Sycorax’s escape route and then turned around and returned to Kham’s side.  “Fine.”

Vlad stood near Kham, unsure what to do next. “What the hell did you shoot me for?”  

“You were going to kill the love of my life.”

“The love of your—“ was all Vlad got out before Kham touched the amulet at his throat and they disappeared with a flash.

A second later, Zoltan Zaska’s skull collided with Black Jenny Ramsey’s pyramid.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 4a – Crystal Lake Island*

They gathered on the deck of the Naoke under the pale moonlight.

“So,” said Kham.  “What’s the plan?”

Von Grebel glared at Kham.  “I never agreed to help you.”

“Yeah, well, I never agreed to help you either.  And if I recall correctly, the Leviathan Bell controls undead, right?”

The vampire paused.  “What’s your point?”

“I mean, we could just force you to tell us what we want, right?”

Von Grebel crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought,” said Kham. “Since we’re stuck with each other, maybe we should concentrate on getting out of here.”

The vampire muttered something.

“What was that?” asked Kham.

“You heard me.”

“'You don’t know how'?”

Vlad, who was staring out at the ocean, turned around.  “What do you mean?”

Von Grebel sighed.  “I don’t know as much bout Moab Cys’varion.  Daen yakked incessantly about Zoltan’s Skull ship; he was afraid an attack could come at any time, especially after Zoltan retrieved a few of his cloned villagers.  And he kept careful watch on Sycorax—“

“Black Jenny,” corrected Kham.

“SYCORAX,” von Grebel stubbornly emphasized, “who sacrificed her victims atop the highest point of her island.  She was easy to spy on. But Moab…I’ve never seen him.  He was the only one Daen respected, mainly because the elf thought about conquest as much as Daen did.”

Beldin slapped his forehead.  “You forgot to mention he’s an elorii.”

“He barely resembles even that.  Daen thought Moab’s dabbling in mutation was an utter waste of time and effort.”

“Dabbling in mutation, hmm?” asked Sebastian.  “So he was sculpting the flesh of the living.”

“One would assume so,” said von Grebel.  “Like I said, I’ve never actually seen him.  I think he has a fortress somewhere hidden in the island itself.  But if so, he never comes out.  It’s probably due to his control over the Leviathan Spyglass.”

“And what does that do?” asked Vlad.

“I’ve only heard what Daen ranted about.  The Spyglass can see anywhere he likes, and he can create gates to anywhere he sees.”

“Not anywhere,” added Sebastian, “or Moab would have escaped this place already.”

Von Grebel shrugged.  “Point being, Moab doesn’t have to go anywhere he doesn’t want to.”

“So that leaves the question of how exactly we’re supposed to get this last artifact,” grumbled Beldin.  

“The sun’s rising,” said Kham.  “You’d better get out of sight.  Hop into that little box of yours and I’ll hold you in my haversack.”

“I think not,” said von Grebel.

Skiz popped his head out of Kham’s haversack.  “Seriously, boss, that guy creeps me out.  I don’t want him in here with me.”

“Hush, Skiz.”

“But…”

“SHADDUP, I said.”

There was a strange sound: WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP.  Three glowing concentric circles telescoped outwards on the deck of the Naoke, each larger than the first.  Out of it stepped six hunched, mutated humans with mismatched and mottled flesh.  Leading the charge was a slim elorii with bright blue hair.   

“Jhondal!” shouted von Grebel before dispersing into Kham’s haversack.  “Moab’s lieutenant!”

The elorii pointed his rapier at Kham. “Attack!” 

Beldin slapped Windcutter in his open palm.  “Looks like Moab’s coming to us.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 4b – Crystal Lake Island*

Sebastian launched himself into the air, trying to get a clear shot.

“Don’t use fire!” shouted Baldric.  “Ye’ll destroy me ship!”

“I know, I know!” Sebastian shouted back. 

Beldin rolled and hacked down one of the mutants.  He came up behind another one that was advancing on Vlad.  It didn’t see him…

The mutant tossed its hair, and a pair of eyes peered through the strands at him.  They went wide and the mutant soldier spun just as Beldin’s axe came down for what would have been a fatal blow.

“They’ve got eyes in the backs of their heads!” shouted Beldin.  “Literally!”

Vlad fended off a three-armed attack, kicking one of the mutants overboard. “That’s the least of our problems.”

Sebastian pointed at three of the mutants.  “Magicus telum!”

Searing bolts of blue energy darted towards the mutants, only to fizzle as they struck. 

“We are blessed by the Stone of Heavens!” shouted Jhondal.  “Your mortal magic is no match for Moab!”

A resounding explosion caused the elorii to look down in shock at his gaping chest wound.  

Through the hole, Kham lowered the Leviathan Pistol.  He blew on the smoking barrel. “Who needs magic?”

Jhondal fell off the rail into the ocean.

The Naoke’s crew quickly dispatched the other mutants. Bright blue ichor was spattered everywhere.

”That wasn’t so bad,” said Vlad.  He leaned over to catch his breath.  “If that’s all he’s got…”

WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP.

Three two-headed giants stepped onto the deck.

“You were saying?” asked Beldin.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 4c – Crystal Lake Island*

Complete chaos engulfed the Naoke.  First it was the two-headed giants.  A second later, a four-armed gorilla showed up.  Then a huge leopard with tentacles grafted to its flesh and a wolverine with bony plates jutting from its forehead.

“We can’t take them all on at once!” Vlad parried the whip-crack of one of the leopard’s tentacles with his shield. “There’s too many!”

Beldin rolled beneath one of the giants and cut its leg out from under it.  Its howl was cut off by Windcutter chopping through its throat.  “Bah!  I’ll take care of the giants, you take care of the rest!”

Sebastian pointed at the wolverine. “Demitte resisto!”  Nothing happened.

“If that was supposed to do something, it didn’t!” Kham took aim at the wolverine and fired.  A chunk of fur and flesh blew off the beast, but it kept coming at Vlad.

“I was assaying their weaknesses,” Sebastian said calmly from his position over the deck.  “Watch: radius incensio!” 

Three spiraling beams of fire sliced into the wolverine, engulfing it in flames.  It was all Vlad could do to keep it on the other side of his shield.

One of the giants batted three sailors right off the deck with a sweep of its club. 

Beldin hacked downward, splitting another giant’s foot in half.  It swung clumsily at him and missed as he rolled out of the way, smashing into its remaining companion.  The second giant fell overboard from the blow.

As the giant bent down to grab its foot, Beldin smacked it with the flat side of Windcutter, bowling it over off the deck’s railing.

He was about to turn on the wolverine when the huge gorilla grabbed him with all four of its arms. 

Kham blurred into existence behind it.  “I’ve got it!”  He pointed one of his pistols and fired.

Instead of blastpowder, a hailstorm of multicolored crystals disintegrated the gorilla’s head.  The headless body fell to the deck, twitching.

“When did you learn to do that?” asked Beldin.

“Behind you!” shouted Kham.

Tentacles snapped towards Beldin but were stopped short by ghostly jaws that clamped tight on them, holding the mutated leopard’s limbs at bay.  It resorted to its mauling the dwarf instead, its three pairs of claws scratching at his shield.

“They’re immune to magic,” said Sebastian. “I can’t stop them all!”

Kham smirked.  “I can.” 

He blurred again sideways, far faster than he had ever walked between worlds in Carcosa.  He appeared behind the leopard.  Before it could turn to face him, a thicket of crystals appeared in the air and flensed the flesh from the creature’s right side.  Its ribcage was bare of fur, revealing white bone beneath.  Kham pointed and the creature’s corpse was shoved off deck by an invisible force.

Vlad finally turned the tables on the wolverine.  He stabbed it through the throat, pinning it to the deck with Grungronazharr.  After a minute of screeching and scrabbling, the mutated wolverine finally lay still.

Sebastian landed on the deck.  “I think it’s time we had a talk about what exactly the Leviathan Pistol did to you Kham.  You’re acting strange...”

WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP.

“Son of a BITCH!” shouted Vlad.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 4d – Crystal Lake Island*

Moab’s wizard pointed his staff at Sebastian, unleashing a bolt of lightning.  The dark-kin twisted, barely avoiding the bolt.  

Sebastian strafed by with a blast of freezing cold, covering the Naoke in rime.  Friends and foes alike dove to the side.

Vlad locked blades with an elorii with dusky gray skin and white hair.  “You’re no match for my power, human dog!” he snarled.  They separated and the elorii pointed his jeweled blade at Vlad.  

Flames exploded out of the tip of the sword.  Vlad held up Grungronazharr and the fire washed over him.

“What?” shouted the elorii.  “Impossible!”  

It was the last words he got out as Vlad thrust his blade through the elorii’s torso.

Beldin blocked the vicious hack of a falchion from a hulk of a man with straight black hair.  He shouted with every strike, spittle flying from his lips.  

A tough-looking woman with short blonde hair stood in the center of it all, sending supplications to Leviathan. 

“Another cultist of Leviathan,” sighed Kham.  “Just what we need.”

A twisted gnome with a red Mohawk tumbled up to him, crossbow at the ready.  

“Wait a minute…” said the gnome.  “I remember you!  You’re that idiot I tried to kill in Freeport!”

Kham tried to track the gnome with the Leviathan Pistol.  “Funny, you don’t ring a bell.”

“Rooster Tumblefoot!  You don’t remember me? You were blitzed out of your mind on Ghoul Juice when that flapping idiot up there,” he jabbed a thumb in Sebastian’s direction, “melted me into slag!”

“Nope, don’t remember you.”

The gnome fired his crossbow but it went wide.  “What?  Aren’t you surprised I’m still alive?”

Kham kept tracking him with the pistol.  “Not really.”

“Don’t you see how amazingly powerful Moab’s magic is?” The gnome was becoming visibly frustrated.  He drew his short sword and advanced on Kham.  “I mean, I was his one success with the Leviathan Spyglass…I managed to escape this crazy place!  Then when I nearly died, it drew me back. Moab saved me from the brink of death.”

Rooster lunged with his blade, but Kham blurred sideways out of his field of view.

“Skin grafts take a LONG time!  A lot of people died so I could live.”  The gnome looked around.  “You sure you don’t remember me?”

Kham was standing on the rigging above him.  Kham’s eyes flashed from behind his lenses. 

Rooster’s eyes rolled in his head.  He collapsed to the deck, drool dripping from his slack jaw, his brain smashed from Kham's psychic attack.

“Sorry, nothing’s coming to mind.”  Kham landed next to him and kicked Rooster’s dying body overboard.

“Perhaps Gaspar can help you with that!” shouted the older wizard, who was fond of repeating his own name.

Kham whirled and flew upwards, hovering over the deck.  “Oh I don’t think…”

The val jerked as if he had been slapped.  He hung limply in the air, a marionette abandoned by its owner.

It was a fleeting victory.  The focus on Kham distracted Gaspar long enough so that Sebastian got behind him.  Ice and sleet covered him, transforming the older wizard into an ice sculpture.

“You’ll pay for that!” shouted the priestess.  “Leviathan, make these unbelievers pay for their transgressions!”  She pointed at Sebastian and a gout of flames blasted down upon the dark-kin, dunking him into the ocean.

Seconds later, Grungronazharr jutted from the priestess’ torso.  She looked down in shock.  

Vlad kicked the woman off of his blade.  Beldin was doing the same with the corpse of the barbarian that attacked him.

“Is that all of them?” asked Vlad.

“Not quite,” hissed a voice from everywhere and nowhere.  “You have yet to deal with me.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 4e – Crystal Lake Island*

There was little evidence in Moab Cys’varion’s wretched form that he was once an elorii.  His hair had long since fallen out and his pupiless eyes were pink.  His flesh was splotchy white in patches, gray in others.  He stood at the far end of the ship. 

“I should be thankful,” Moab said in soft tones. “I had hoped to send my armies into Freeport.  Instead I have sent them here and they have all failed.  Or rather, they have achieved what I wished for them to accomplish.”

Beldin and Vlad stood resolute.  “What’s that?” asked the dwarf as they advanced on him.

“They softened you up so that I may have you as experiments.  You will make suitable replacements for my former adventuring companions.  I need good warriors.”

Beldin circled around one side of the Naoke’s mainmast and Vlad around the other.  Sailor and mutant bodies were littered everywhere.

“But for the moment, I think you will make quite a nice statue.”  Moab pointed at Beldin.  “Corporeus lapideus!”

A sparkling green beam struck the dwarf but it didn’t slow him.  “That the best you got?”

Moab sneered.  “Perhaps the former giant would like to become smaller: Resilio adstringo!”

The dwarf didn’t slow his stride.

Moab frowned but didn’t waste time on threats.  He pointed at Vlad.  “Polymorph alius!”

Nothing happened.

Beldin slapped Windcutter in an open palm.  “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

“Eradico!”

A sparkling green ray struck Beldin square on the shoulder.  A part of the dwarf’s body simply disappeared, taking a chunk out of the dwarf’s right upper forearm and part of his ribcage.  For a moment there was no blood at all.  Then his body gave out, pumping blood through the open cavity.  Beldin clutched the wound and fell backwards.

“That should have killed you,” Moab said matter-of-factly.  

Vlad almost reached him when Moab turned two palms towards him. “Magicus telum!”

Bolts of energy thudded into the Milandisian, but it didn’t stop him.  He slashed at the former elorii’s head.

Moab drew a black sword, with a blade that reflected no light.  He easily parried the blow.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Moab hissed over their locked blades. “You don’t deserve to be my minion. I’m going to feed you to my sword instead.”

“Pick on someone your own size!” shouted Sebastian, dripping seawater.  “Magicus telum!”

Bolts of magical energy sliced into Moab.  The elorii, unaffected, spun to face an opponent he thought eliminated. 

“You! You were supposed to make the portal work!  Instead we only were able to send Rooster through! You were bound by an oath of Sarish! Fulgur sagitta!” 

Lightning stroked from his fingertips, and again Sebastian barely moved out of its path.

Vlad plunged Grungronazharr into Moab’s back.  The elorii howled and spun to face his opponent.

“You think that mere blades can stop me?”  Moab hunched over.  Vlad took a step back.  “I control the Stone of the Heavens!”

Moab’s form began to bulge and morph, as if he were a cake that had been baked for too long.  “I will take all of the artifacts and use them to march on Freeport!” 

Moab’s arms undulated as they turned into serpentine necks; his hands became draconic heads.  Moab’s own head stretched and twined, and still more heads grew from the heaving torso.  

“And no one can stop me!”

Moab’s torso spilled over itself, and four limbs jutted out of it.  Scales covered his white flesh, turning it from pink to a dark red hue.  Serpentine heads hissed and snapped at Vlad.  

“He’s transformed into a pyrohydra!” shouted Sebastian.  “We’ll never be able to stop him!”

The multi-headed shadow loomed over him. “A what?” shouted Vlad. 

“It’s immune to fire.  And Moab will heal faster than we can harm him!”

The Naoke groaned as the huge monstrosity continued to grow on its deck.  Vlad caught a glimpse of Grungronazharr jutting from the pyrohydra’s torso.

“Grungronazharr is still in his flesh!” shouted Vlad.  “I’m going to finish what I started!”

“Are you insane?” But Sebastian didn’t get anything else out.  He unleashed another cone of cold upon the pyrohydra as he flew past to distract it.

Vlad pounded towards the bright red bulk of the thing, eyes focused on the hilt of his sword jutting out of the thing’s back.  Several of the pyrohydra’s heads tracked him, their maws yawning with hellfire.

Vlade lunged onto the pyrohydra’s back, grabbing the hilt of his blade just as the mouths unleashed a blast of white-hot flames.  The fire washed over the Milandisian warrior as he hung on to the expanding hydra by the hilt of Grungronazharr.

With a shout, he shoved the blade deeper into Moab’s changing body.  He felt something burst beneath the flesh.

Then the body was shrinking, changing again, snapping back to the elorii’s wretched form.  Vlad drew his blade and hopped backwards, landing on the deck of the Naoke once more.

Sebastian flapped down beside him.  The remaining crew stuck their heads out. 

“It’s over,” said the dark-kin.  “You can come out now.”

“He seemed to think he knew you,” said Vlad.  “What was that all about?”

Sebastian rifled through the dead elorii’s possessions.  “I think he mistook me for another devil.  And judging by that conversation, he didn’t make out on the deal.” He fished out the Leviathan Spyglass. “But what matters most is that we’ve now got all four artifacts.”

“What about Beldin?” asked Vlad, concerned.

“The dwarf?  His body is merely a vessel.  So long as his soulstone is intact, we can heal him.”

“Since when do you call Beldin ‘the dwarf’?” asked Vlad.  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “And where’s…”

There was a splash behind them as the spell that incapacitated Kham finally wore off, plunging him into the ocean. 

“Never mind.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5a – R’lyeh*

A low vibration the crew of the Naoke awake, growing in intensity as they scrambled to the deck.

“All hands!” shouted Baldric.  “All hands on deck, ye mangy dogs!  Move it!”

The cause of the alarm became evident as they sprinted on deck to the first red rays of the morning sun…a wave, nearly fort-feet high, was heading straight for them.

“I’ve got it,” said Beldin.  He outstretched the hand that wore Cho Sun’s ring and focused.

The prow of the Naoke bit into the wave, launching a blast of spray that drenched them to their skin.  The water lifted the bow and forced the ship skyward.  

Still they kept climbing, the boat standing nearly on end as they made their way up, up, ever up.  The last stars of the night sky were visible, and then the bow blocked them from view.

Still up they went, until the bow was above and behind, pushed farther back by the wave’s crest.  And then they were over, the prow pushing through the top of the wave and down. 

Beldin never lost his footing as the front of the ship crashed into the back of the wave, sending another torrent of water over him and below decks.

Then the sea calmed, the tidal wave passed.  Ahead, the cause of the disturbance was plain: an island, one that hadn’t been there yesterday, sitting alone as the waves caused by its appearance extended outward like ripples fleeing a tossed stone.  

Sebastian twisted the seawater out of their map, his wings and hair sopping wet. “That would be R’lyeh.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5b – R’lyeh*

R’lyeh brought its own weather.  When it appeared in the archipelago, the sunlight dimmed and the skies filled with rolling purple storm clouds that delivered a constant downpour as they approached the island. A thick, soupy fog poured off the waves, occluding the island and reducing visibility to a matter of yards.

Through the forbidding mists, hints of shapes were visible.  The stony inclines of mountains, rugged and vast, lurked beneath the fog.  At their peaks, crags suggested themselves like faces under a shroud.  

They came upon a coastline of mingled mud, ooze, and weedy Cyclopean masonry which could be nothing less than the tangible substance of earth's supreme terror - the nightmare corpse-city of R'lyeh, that was built in measureless aeons behind history by the vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars. 

Only as they approached did the scale become clear: the fearsome summits soared many hundreds of feet into the air and began almost at the waterline.  They formed a high, unbroken wall around the island, a formidable gate around the treasures of R’lyeh.

Sebastian landed on the deck of the Naoke.  “It’s difficult to tell with the fog, but about halfway up the cliff face is a hole gouged into the rock.  It’s at least as big as the ship. There’s a dim red light coming from inside the cavern.”

The dark-kin whispered “inlumino!”

His fist glowed with a reddish light.  Sebastian took to the air, and although he was no longer visible in the fog, the red light served as a beacon for his companions. 

“Looks like we’ll have to climb it,” said Beldin.  He dusted his hands, relishing the thought of pitting himself against a mountain, no matter how strange.

“Speak for yourself,” said Kham.  He crouched and then launched himself skywards, disappearing into the mist.

Vlad, who was far less enthusiastic about climbing the mountain, exchanged glances with Beldin.  “Something’s different about Kham.  That Leviathan Pistol has changed him somehow.”

“And Sebastian too,” said the dwarf.  “He seems…less human.”

They rowed from the Naoke to the cliffs. 

They clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks that could have been no mortal staircase. The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarizing miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in those crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance showed concavity after the first showed convexity.

“Is it just me, or do these handholds look strange?” asked Vlad.

“It’s not just you.” Beldin grunted with exertion above him. “They seem a little too well-placed to be natural.  The nooks in the rock have been scratched out with stone.”

“Judging from the flecks of blood, fingernails,” added Vlad.

“Strong fingernails, then.”

They climbed on in silence, with Sebsatian’s beacon occasionally coming into focus, until they reached a zigzag path that led steeply but surely to a tunnel. 

Vapur curled from the cave’s lip and a dim red light came from inside the cavern.  In the shifting half-light of R’lyeh it looked like an open wound.

Sebastian and Kham landed.  Sebastian looked the val up and down.

“Since when can you fly?” he asked.

“Since when can you?” asked Kham nonchalantly.

As they approached, the sanguine glow from inside the tunnel grew brighter.  Ghostly groaning rattled the surrounding rocks.  

The tunnel was roughly diamond-shaped, with coarse red walls.  

“Looks like blood,” said Vlad.

Indeed, blood seemed to have drenched the interior long ago, which then congealed into hideous bubbles, boils, and spider web strands that stretched down from the cavern’s roof. 

“There’s deep, black grooves in the rock that stretch the length of the tunnel,” said Beldin.  “Almost as if something was trying to crawl its way out of here…”

“He tried hanging on, he did!” came a cackle from above.  “But it didn’t work!  The good lord threw him right through the mountain! What a howl he let out when the good lord done it! Scrambling and struggling!”

Beldin and Sebastian saw a swirling madcap figure: a tall, gangly man in a great cloak of multicolored patches and motley garments trimmed with yesterday’s silks, tattered grimy lace, and moth-eaten rabbit fur.  

“Emperor Oswald!” said Beldin.  “What are you doing here?”

“Who?” asked Kham.

“Oswald,” said Beldin.  “The Beggar King of Freeport.  I’d expect you to know him.”

“He tried to go against the good lord, and look where it got him!” shouted Oswald.  “Ripped and chucked!”

Kham gave the odd man another look.  “That’s not Oswald.  That’s the blind old fool we met in Altheria. Kept rhyming and giving us riddles.”

Sebastian crossed his arms.  “That looks like Oswald to me.”

“He looks like the blind guy to me,” said Vlad.

“Hey now!” said Oswald.  “How’d yet get here, then?  My map…ye found my map.  Praise the sea and stars!”

“And just who are you, exactly?”

“I go by many names, but Harry will do if ye please.  Old Harry’s worth more to ye than gold while ye stand on this rock!”

“And what of your blindness?” asked Vlad.

Harry shook his head. “Crazy is catching!” he chuckled.  “I’ll help ye however I can, so long as ye guarantee me a berth in yer boat on the way home.  Nothing fancy, ye understand, just a hammock to swing me old bones!”

Beldin shrugged. “I think we can offer you that much.”

“Good, good!” Harry peered into the tunnel.  “I know these caverns like the veins in me hand!”

They journeyed onward, Harry in the lead.  The walls started to get narrower and narrower, and the congealed blood drippings became as thick as cobwebs.   They resorted to hacking their way through the tunnel.

Finally, the passageway became too tight to fit.  Harry moved ahead, cackling and scrambling on all fours like a greased weasel.  

“He left a lot of his wine in this rock, Leviathan did!  And burns like brine, so the rock don’t want it!  SO it keeps squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, til it turns into dust and blows away.” Harry jabbed a thumb in the direction they had come. “That’s the smoke ye see coming from the grand hole back there.”

“That’s great, Harry, but how do we fit through here?” asked Vlad.

“Surely, a bunch of hearties like yerselves have something stashed about ye that can get ye through this muddle!”

Sebastian began rummaging through one of his belt pouches. He pulled out the Leviathan Spyglass.

Harry’s eyes went wide.  “Ye been nicking from the dead ones!”

Sebastian nodded.  “This Spyglass has the power of transformation and the ability to open a gate anywhere.  So let’s see if it will do the job here.” He opened the Spyglass as if to peer into the murky tunnel, one telescoping piece at a time.

As he did so, a three-ringed portal opened up ahead with a WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP.

Sebastian snapped the Leviathan Spyglass shut, and the three rings disappeared.  Before them was a hollowed out tunnel, with great chunks of bloody stone simply missing.

The dark-kin stared down at the Spyglass with a rapturous gaze.  

“Powerful trinkets ye have there,” said Harry, subdued. “Each one’s got a power of its own; they lets ye act a bit like the good lord, gives ye one of his powers.”

“Powerful indeed,” Sebastian said breathlessly.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5c – R’lyeh*

“I just had an unsettling thought,” said Beldin. “I thought that the mountain range was intended to keep people out.  But I’m starting to think it’s meant to keep things in.”

The island landscape spread out before them was a tableau of pure evil. A forest sent black-barked trees high into the mists—trees that seemed to tremble and groan without wind to urge them on.  Beyond the woodland lay a roiling, steaming marshland, blood red in the dim light and giving off a sulfurous stink strong enough to reach them halfway up the mountain. In the middle of the fetid bog rose a black spire. 

“That’s where he lies,” said Harry.  “The wicked one!  That’s where the good lord flung him.  He keeps him locked up fast.  Buried like a pirate, he is—with a treasure chest on top!”

The forest began at the mountain’s base and spread to occupy about a third of the valley. 

As they stepped into the dense wood, the air filled with familiar creaks and groans.

“That almost sounds like…” began Beldin.

”A boat tacking against the wind,” finished Sebastian.  “But no boat should be here.”

The noise was grotesquely appropriate. The trees weren’t made of solid wood, but planks, the kind that made up the deck of the Naoke, grown thickly together and bound with brass collars.  Jutting out from the north face of every last one of the oaken monstrosities was a figurehead—a leering, cowled figure with clenched teeth. 

As Vlad stared closely at one, its eyes sprung open.  For a moment they appeared to be black, but he realized they had no iris at all.  An emblem—a tentacled skull with five stars—crowned the head.

“Talk not to the trees,” warned Harry. “They got nothing good to say!”

“_Take the artifacts off of the island,_” whispered one of the figureheads, “_and Leviathan will linger here forever, his evil leaching off into the world.  But if you revive him…he could destroy you once and for all!  Think of it!_”

Beldin answered the figurehead by burying Windcutter in its face.

“_Think of how you’ll spend the rest of your days!_” another figurehead whispered to Vlad.  “_You defeated the mightiest pirates who ever sailed, but when you had the chance to battle their master, you turned and ran. How will you live with yourself?_”

“I’m sure I’ll get over it,” said Vlad.

“_Fulfill your destiny!_” A figurehead addressed Kham.  “_He will welcome you back to the fold; he will make you Lord of the Oceans—and he will make her love you again._”

“What are they talking about?” asked Beldin.

Kham shrugged.

“_Halloo there, little captain!_” One of the figureheads directed its attention to Harry.  “_Have you finished your raft yet?_”

Harry chuckled.  “Ye have no idea.”

“_Watch carefully, little captain, for you’ll see your new friends hanging from the gibbet soon enough!_”

“I’d set fire to this place, but it’s not worth the energy,” said Sebastian.  He spread his wings and flew into the air over the trees.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5d – R’lyeh*

As the forest started to break up, Beldin pointed out a deep, ridged furrow in the earth. 

“Looks like claw marks,” he said, “the same as in the tunnel.”

“Howled all the way, he did!” said Harry.  “The ground didn’t stop blazing for ten winters!”

They followed the trench out of the forest.  As the forest fell away to marshland, the ground turned to brackish, rust-colored mud that bubbled and oozed, sending off heady clouds of sulfur.  The stink was overpowering.

“Bled himself dry, he did, when he tore through here!” observed Harry.  “Mark the ground well—the rest of his wine, as willful and wicked as it were when he lived!  Look lively now, else ye’ll melt down into the earth yerself!”

Finally, they saw it.

The spire rose some three hundred feet from the marshes, jet-black in the sulfurous mists, covered with ridges and crenulations and crude sculptures of tortured faces. They looked curiously at an immense carved door with a familiar tentacled skull bas-relief. It was like a great barn door; and they all felt that it was a door because of the ornate lintel, threshold, and jambs around it.

“Can’t decide if it lays flat like a trap-door or slantwise like an outside cellar-door,” said Beldin.  “The geometry of this place is all wrong.”

Beldin pushed at the stone in several places without result. Then Kham felt over it delicately around the edge, pressing each point separately as he went. He climbed interminably along the grotesque stone moulding. Then, very softly and slowly, the acre-great lintel began to give inward at the top; and they saw that it was balauced 

Kham slid down the jamb and rejoined his fellows, and everyone watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal. In this phantasy of prismatic distortion it moved anomalously in a diagonal way, so that all the rules of matter and perspective seemed upset. 

The aperture was black with a darkness almost material. That tenebrousness was indeed a positive quality; for it obscured such parts of the inner walls as ought to have been revealed, and actually burst forth like smoke from its aeon-long imprisonment, visibly darkening the sun as it slunk away into the shrunken and gibbous sky on flapping membranous wings. The odor rising from the newly opened depths was intolerable. 

Beyond the door lay a narrow iron stairway that coiled around a central shaft until it reached the top of the tower.  More faces lined the stairwell, wrought into the iron of the walls and steps.  Vlad and Beldin led the climb, Harry in the center, and Kham and Sebastian behind.  

One of the faces addressed Harry in a croaking voice. “_Thank you, maroon, for bringing me fresh meat…I will save you a shank or two, rest assured._”

Harry chuckled.  “Pay it no mind.”

“_The dark-kin can’t be trusted,_” whispered another face.  “_He’s a devil worshipping liar.  He’ll kill you if he gets the chance._”

When nobody reacted, another voice chimed in.  “_The dwarf doesn’t trust him.  Who would?  His allegiance isn’t to his friends, it’s to his forge.  He’d sacrifice you all if it meant completing Elabac’s life quest!_”

Beldin snorted but kept climbing. 

“_Remember the old battles the Full-Fathom Five fought,_” said one face to Kham with barely controlled rage, “_remember the glory days!  You have no idea what I will do to you—and to her—if you refuse._”

Kham ignored it.

As Vlad rounded the bend one of the larger faces fixed on him.  It said but one word.  “_RAPIST._”

Vlad drew a dagger.  “That’s it!”

 “Forget it!” Beldin grabbed him.  “Forget it, it’s just a stupid statue!”

“I did not touch that girl!  She lied!” He addressed Kham. “You were there!”

Kham shrugged.  “I don’t remember much these days.”

“What?” Vlad started to say more when they heard clicking from both ends of the staircase.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5e – R’lyeh*

They reached a circular room at the top of the stairs.  An enormous pit was in the middle and a creepy, expressionist sculpture at the other end.  

Vlad wiped ichor off of Grungronazharr.  “Those were some big scorpions.”

Beldin beat his chest.  An ugly purple wound bulged from one of his forearms.  “Dwarves don’t poison easy.”

On the other side of the hole sat what appeared to be a grotesque sculpture of black iron, a collection of limbs twined horribly and grasping at the air with long, wicked claws.  Forming a backdrop for the misshapen array were a pair of wings, torn and broken but still spanning over a hundred feet.  Between them, hanging monstrously below the ribcage on a serpentine iron neck, was a face. It was a bare black skull with six long tentacles in place of its maw.  Burned into the forehead of the villainous visage were five stars.

“There he lies,” said Harry. “The wicked one himself!”

“Leviathan, you mean?” asked Vlad.

Harry nodded vigorously.  “Aye.  Cadic flung Leviathan into this island, and then piled his cult’s ill-gotten gains atop him.  When Cadic ripped the island out of Arcanis and set it wandering, he coated Leviathan’s body with molten metal, and he made a tower of the same.  The treasure lays straight down there,” he pointed down the hole, “hundreds of feet. But beware, horrible things await anyone who tries to take the booty.”

“We don’t want the treasure,” said Sebastian. “We’re here to stop Leviathan.”

Something rustled behind the remains of Leviathan, cutting off Harry’s reply.

A host of black figures, dressed in cultist robes, stepped out from behind the remains of their god.  

“Very clever of ye!” roared the ironbound skull. “Ye have done what my Five could not.  Return the weapons that were rightfully mine and I shall give ye the greatest honor imaginable.  I will allow you to sail at my side.  Together we shall rule the oceans of the world and chain Cadic the Coward beneath the waves!  Refuse, and you will haunt these chambers for all eternity!”

“The Boney Lonesomes! Fer the love of the good lord’s galleon, don’t meet their eyes!” cried Harry.  “They’ll kill ye with a look, they will!”

Beldin hunkered down behind his shield.  “The Leviathan Bell can stop them!” He turned to Sebastian. “Use it!”

Sebastian took the bell out of a pouch.  “I think I can try to control them…”

“They’re too strong for ye, damn all!” shouted Harry as the things advanced.  “Surely ye must have some item that can lay them low!”

“Control them?” Beldin yanked the Leviathan Bell out of the dark-kin’s hands.  “Give me that!”  

He rang the Leviathan Bell. A single peal rang out, pure and true. The undead cultists immediately began shrieking, clutching their heads.  They slowly melted back into the ground.

“Ye have won nothing!” barked Leviathan.  “By challenging me, ye have steered into the wind!  I will not forget ye nor what ye have done here.  I am not through with ye…”

“Looks like there’s only one way to go.” Sebastian launched himself over the pit and disappeared into the darkness. Kham dove in a second later.


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5f – R’lyeh*

As Beldin and Vlad climbed their way down to the treasure chamber, they encountered more iron faces that lined the shaft.

“_Do you really think he’ll let you leave with it?_” one face asked Beldin.  The dwarf ignored it.

“_Don’t think I won’t find a way out!_” snarled another.  “_And when I do, I’m coming for you!_”

“Come after me,” answered Vlad.  “I’d like to wipe that sneer off your face personally.”

They finally reached the bottom.  Nothing could have prepared them for the sight.

“This isn’t a king’s ransom,” whispered Beldin breathlessly.  “It’s a god’s ransom!”

The wealth of ten thousand years of shipwrecks sat before them, arrayed in great swelling dunes that nearly scraped the ceiling of the low, circular room.  Piles of coins, gems, jewels, and masterwork items filled the room.

Kham was already there, counting a pile of coins.  Sebastian stood impassively, arms crossed, surveying his surroundings.

Vlad yelped with glee.  “I could buy an army with this!  Hell, my own kingdom!”  He ran over to one of the piles.

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

Kham cackled.  “I’m going to outfit a ship.  An Altherian ship.  With lots of cannons.  I’ll be the scourge of the seas once more!”

“Since when do you care so much about gold?” asked Sebastian.  “Isn’t your family rich?”

Kham didn’t reply, he just kept counting out gold.

The dwarf had even succumbed to temptation.  “With this…” he let several diamonds fall through his fingers, “I could pay a thousand forgers to work on Elabac’s perfect item.  I could have the finest armor and weapons known to man and dwarf…”

Beldin was so enamored with the loot that he didn’t see a mound of glittering gold rise up behind him.  Its eyes were rubies, its fingers scythed out in the form of jewel-encrusted daggers and swords. 

“Ah ah!” Kham waved the Leviathan Pistol in the air.  “As Lord of the Oceans, you’ll do my bidding!”

The animated mounds of treasure, twelve in all, shambled towards Kham.

“Uh…” Vlad backed up, sword and shield at the ready.

The mounts kneeled before Kham and bowed what might have been their heads.

“Now,” said Kham.  “Start climbing.”


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Part 5g – R’lyeh*

The piles of treasure climbed up the shaft one by one, dragged themselves across the island, and loaded themselves onto the Naoke.  

When they were back on board the Naoke, Harry cleared his throat.  “I believe there’s a stowaway in this crew,” he called out, pointing at Kham.

Kham drew the Leviathan Pistol at lightning speed and had it aimed at Harry’s head.  “I agree, but you should be pointing at yourself.”

Father Peg-Leg gazed at Harry’s attire, his face, his bearing. “What deity be in that frame, I’m doubtful, but fer sure some deity be there. Whoever ye are, be gracious, bless our labors, and forgive these fellows!” he shouted. 

Harry shook himself, as if he were shedding a cloak, and suddenly a divine being glittered before them. He appeared as a charming young man with a roguish smile and icy blue eyes. His rich, dark hair waved about him, and on his strong shoulders he wore a purple robe.

They were in the presence of a god. 

The crew was overcome, some going blind at the sight of him, others howling with madness and fear.  Beldin and Vlad fell to their knees. Kham crossed his arms. Sebastian took a step back.  

Father Peg-Leg kneeled to the ground.  “Bow yer heads, fer ye are in the presence of Cadic!  The Dark Hand of Illiir, Master of the Darkness, Keeper of Secrets, the Thief of Joy, the Bringer of Lament, the Lord of Epics—“

“That’s enough,” said Cadic.  “You may know me as Oswald the Beggar King, or Deolpholis, the blind prophet…”

“That was you?” asked Vlad.

“I said you may know me,” corrected Cadic.  “Those are merely forms I adopted. You’ve been through much.  And I salute you.  But nobody goes forth on the waters without paying Cadic his due.  All I ask of you is a promise—to answer my call if I need a job done in the world of men.  One promise, and you’ll be wealthy beyond an admiral’s dreams and you’ll sleep well the rest of your days.  Refuse, and you’ll never spend a copper of that haul in peace.”

”I don’t want it,” said Sebastian.  “We never asked for the treasure.”

“Do what he says, fool!” snapped Peg-Leg.

“Turn your backs on me now,” boomed Cadic, “and bad luck will follow you so long as you keep that lucre.  Ropes will snap on you, the wind will forever be on your face.  Swords will slip out of your hands and there’ll be a set of claws waiting for you whenever you go through a door.  And just try to spend that haul of yours and see where it gets you.  The same cursed luck that befalls you will befall anyone who handles those coins.  You’ll be chased out of every town you settle in, you’ll be hounded to places where they’ve no use for gold.”

“I do so swear to answer your call,” said Beldin.

“As do I,” said Vlad.

Kham looked warily at the god, unafraid. “Keep your end of the deal and I’ll keep mine,” he said.

Cadic stared at the dark-kin. 

“Fine,” said Sebastian.  “But we were told we would stop Leviathan and he seems to be quite harmless.  Why did you lead us here?”

“Leviathan’s minions on the other side were a clever bunch.  When they worked their wicked business in Freeport, it was like a punch to my guts.  For a few moments I forgot myself, forgot my place in the order of things—my responsibilities.  That’s how Leviathan’s cultists discovered old Carthy.  And that’s what afflicts me now.  They cut the rope that binds this body to Cadic in the heavens! I remember some things…how to wreck things and how to curse them.  But putting things right…curing the treasure…that’s much tougher work, and that eludes me.  If you can put me in my right mind, I’ll fix you up and set you windward.”

“We used the Leviathan Spyglass to enter the fortress, the Bell to defeat the Boney Lonesomes, and the Pistol to retrieve the treasure,” said Vlad authoritatively.  “It’s time to use the Leviathan Hook.” He fished the Hook out of a bag and placed it on the deck.

“But to use it,” began Sebastian, “you’ll need to…”

Vlad lay his left arm on the deck gestured to Beldin.  “Let’s do this.”

“Are you mad?” asked Sebastian.  “You’re a warrior!  Without your left hand you’ll be useless!”

Cadic watched, silent.

“I can always strap a shield to my arm.” Peg-Leg offered him hemp rope.  “Have a little faith.”  Vlad bit down on the rope and nodded at Beldin.

Beldin lifted his axe over his head with both hands.  “I’ll try to make it clean,” he said.

The shadow of Windcutter cast a long pall over Vlad’s features…


----------



## talien

*Isles of the Damned: Conclusion*

The city of Freeport loomed before them, a welcome sight after spending so much time at sea. 

“That was quite a risk you took,” said Beldin.  “There was no guarantee that Cadic would restore your hand.”

Vlad nodded, flexing his fingers.  “But he did.  That’s all that matters.”

“The artifacts stopped working,” sighed Kham.  “The Pistol won’t even fire.  I tried it.”

Captain Baldric clumped by, muttering about reckless sailors. 

“Fortunately,” said Kham a little louder.  “I loaded the treasure into chests.  There’s enough for the crew and all of us too.”

“Now what?” asked Beldin, staring at Freeport’s docks.

“I am deeply unsatisfied,” said Sebastian.  “I find it hard to believe that Cadic manipulated us across so many years merely to lift a curse with an artifact that was in his grasp the whole time. If that even was Cadic.”

“Whether or not that was Cadic, I can’t stay in Freeport,” said Vlad.  “With war brewing on the continent, Duke Adolphos will want me at his side.  I’m hopping the first gate to Milandir.”

“I’ve requested arms and armor from Master Elabac.  I suspect he wants me to return home as well,” said the dwarf. “But I agree with Sebastian, whatever Cadic’s got up his sleeve has not yet been fully revealed.”

Kham shrugged.  “I’m done with this place.  I’m going to buy myself a big Altherian gunship.  And then I’m going to drink and whore my way into unconsciousness like any good pirate should.”

“You’ve changed,” said Vlad.  “You seem more…hedonistic.”

Kham spat.  “Bah.  I’m merely embracing my inner pirate.  We just encountered a god.  We’re lucky to be alive.  If I were you, I’d forget this whole war nonsense.  I could use a first mate…”

Vlad chuckled and shook his head.  

“Besides,” said Kham.  “I’m not the only one who’s changed. Sebastian’s been acting strange too, ever since he touched that Bell.  I think he’s cursed.”

The dark-kin merely crossed his arms.  “The power of the artifacts have unlocked access to powers I did not know I had.  But I am hardly…” he said the word with distaste, “cursed.”

“You nearly forgot the most important treasure of all.” Kham tossed Sebastian a tiny box that had contained the gaseous form of von Grebel.  He smiled up at the noontime sun.

Sebastian smiled back.  “We are technically in Freeport, as I swore by Sarish.”  He lifted the lid over his head.

“Now wait a minute,” said Beldin.  “You can’t just—“

Sebastian opened the box. Nothing happened.  Von Grebel was not inside.

“He must have left in the middle of the night,” said Sebastian, disappointed.

“Looks like he took Skiz and two of my pistols with him.” Kham looked in his haversack.  “Oh well.”

As they ship slid up to the dock, a longship flying the colors of the Khitani horde. 

“The invasion’s already started,” said Beldin.

“No.  There’s a white flag of truce,” said Sebastian.

A contingent of twenty Freeport guardsmen looked on, keeping the passersby and the curious away from the moored longship. 

As they docked and unloaded their cargo, they passed four men arguing on the boardwalk beside the ship.  Two were obviously Tcho-Tchos, while the other two were Freeporters.

They argued for a few minutes more and then the two barbarians turned angrily away and climbed up the ladders onto the longship, which quickly dropped its oars and began to make its way out to sea. 

Two armed guardsmen then joined the Freeporters and turned towards the Old City.  

Vlad stepped off the Naoke and flashed his Order of Drac symbol.  “What’s going on here?”

“Them barbarian bastards threatened the council, they did,” said one of the guards.  “They want the Freeport navy to join ‘em in the war.”

Sebastian landed next to Vlad, startling the guards. 

“And how did Freeport respond?”

Kham cleared his throat.  “I think I can answer that.”  He flipped a diamond to a paperboy at the docks and snapped the page up so Sebastian could read it.

It read: “WAR COMES TO FREEPORT!”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 63: Crisis in Freeport - Introduction*

This scenario is from the adventure “Crisis in Freeport” by Chris Pramas, Robert J. Schwalb, and Rodney Thompson, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

·	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
·	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
·	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

A lot of DMs have puzzled over how to deal with the events in Black Sails Over Freeport, which inevitably places the PCs at a much higher level than the events in Crisis in Freeport.  Since both adventure involve riots, I simply mixed and matched the two and upped the critters considerably.

Kham and Vlad’s players weren’t able to play in the beginning (Kham showed up later), which meant I was Dming for two.  Here I had boosted the adventure to be tough against four high-level PCs, and only two showed up.  Surely, they would be massacred, right?

Not at all.  In fact, things worked out for the best, because Sebastian and Beldin went on mini-quests of their own in dealing with Freeport’s unrest. Additionally, Sebastian’s sudden change in personality (brought on by the Leviathan Bell, in case anyone’s wondering) ends up actually causing many of the events that lead to the riots.  In other words, Sebastian recreated the strife and unrest without any help from me.

Although I would have liked a bigger audience for the adventure, I thought that it wrapped up nicely.  You’ll see a cast of characters harkening all the way back to Chapter Eight. Which is ironic; back then, I didn’t even want to DM that module.  Who knew the events that took place in that adventure (Emric and Camring) would wrap up the campaign!


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Prologue*

Beldin checked in to the Last Resort. 

Bobbin Brandydale met the dwarf at the door.  “Hello Beldin.” He wore a morose expression.

“Hi Bobbin.  How are things?”

“Well enough, considering Freeport’s threatened by war.  Any news from the front?”

Beldin shrugged.  “I’ve been away.  Judging from today’s newspaper, I’ve been away longer than I thought. Heard from Kham?”

Bobbin shook his head.  “Last I heard, he was leaving for Altheria with his fortunes.  Something about buying a gunship.”

“And Vlad’s gone off to war.” Beldin missed his friends. “Has my package arrived?”  

Bobbin nodded and led him to a table.  “Yes.  The crate arrived a while ago. But there was a note on it…” Bobbin fidgeted.  “And…well…maybe you should read it yourself.”

He grabbed a mug of beer from the bar and handed it to Beldin. “On the house.” Then he handed him the note.

Beldin sat down and sipped his beer.  Judging from Bobbin’s expression, it would not be good news.

“Beldin Ironsoul,” it read in Elebac’s flowery script.  “You are hereby summoned to Solanos Mor to prepare for the defense of the Forges.  This armor has been forged specifically for you with the assumption that you will wearing it, posthaste, to serve your country and kin.”

Beldin gulped.  It was dated weeks ago.

His brooding was interrupted by a familiar character who walked straight towards him.

“Clem?” asked Beldin.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Without speaking, Clem began to sniff Beldin.  

“Smell him…yes…he is…he will be…”

“What?” Beldin grabbed Windcutter off the table.  “What’s wrong with you?”

He took a better look at Clem.  His previously ragged frame had filled out considerably.  A large axe dangled from one hand. 

Bobbin advanced on them.  “Everything all right?”

“Stay back,” said Beldin.  “I’ll handle this.  Clem, what’s wrong?”

“Give it to me,” whispered Clem, rocking on his heels.  “Death…blood…gurlewok…agantio…”

“Give what to you?” 

“Crush…kill…destroy!” Clem grabbed his axe with both hands. “NYAAAAAAGH!” he screamed.  

Beldin dove backwards as the axe came down, smashing the table in half.  

Patrons screamed and dove underneath tables.  

Bobbin rubbed his forehead. “Not again.”

“I hears…he be…get it!” shouted Clem.

Beldin unstrapped his shield.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with you Clem, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Leave…huriobl…og no ilbort…we need him!”

Beldin blocked a numbing blow from Clem’s axe with his shield.  He swung Windcutter in a glancing arc.  The blade bit deeply into Clem’s thigh, but the madman showed no recognition of the wound.

“Leviathan…frega…ohm…” shouted Clem.  He leaped up on a table, frothing.  “Leviathan…frega…OHM!” 

Beldin circled around the table.  “Everyone, run to the exit.  He’s after the Leviathan artifacts!”

Patrons ran screaming.  Clem tracked Beldin’s every movement with his head.  

“The lord calls…frega…hak…”

With another roar, Clem launched himself from the table.  Beldin rolled out of the way as he landed, splitting another table in half. 

This time Beldin didn’t hesitate.  He hacked at the man’s ankle, severing it at the foot.  Clem attempted to take another step forward and slipped on the bloody stump.

“I come…char…near…power…wanting…needing!” Clem kept coming, swinging his axe in Beldin’s general direction.  The dwarf stood his ground.

“You’re going to force me to kill you if you don’t stop this madness right now.”

Clem swung clumsily at the dwarf.  Windcutter bit deep in the madman’s torso.  Blood spurted across the floor. 

Bobbin called for a serving wench to get a mop.

Finally, Clem’s frantic attack slowed as the blood drained out of him.  “Coming…frega…power rising…death…” he gasped, “blood…joy!”

With a final spasm, Clem expired.

“I knew we shouldn’t have picked up that maroon,” said Beldin.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 1 – The Orc Rabble-Rouser*

A crowd of over one hundred orcs had gathered in the Field of Honor in the Eastern District.   Sebastian decided it was the safest place for him to stay.  Thanks to Finn’s protection, few dared hassle the dark-kin.  That, and his bat-like wings, stinger-tipped tail, and dusky features provided ample warning that he should be left alone.

An article in the Shipping News didn’t help matters.  Whatever Letah had told her father, C.Q. Calame, was taken as fact.  Or at least, printed as a possibility.  And thus Sebastian knew all about Beldin’s request for armor because C.Q. speculated that the Solani dwarves were siding with the Rebels.  Or that Vlad was a ravisher of women, to be avoided at all costs. Or that Kham was a drug dealing ghoul, returned from the dead after an aborted rescue attempt from the Hulks. It apparently never entered C.Q.’s mind that maybe Kham had simply survived and that the Sea Lord found it more convenient to list him as dead rather than acknowledge a potentially embarrassing situation.

As for Sebastian, they labeled him a devil-worshipping serial killer.  Sebastian hadn’t killed anyone recently, and he certainly didn’t worship devils.  But he didn’t mind the way the Freeporters treated him. And so, like a gargoyle rousing itself, he perched on one of the buildings overlooking the Field of Honor.

A crowd of over one hundred orcs had gathered there, making passage difficult.  They clustered around Drak Scarbelly, dressed in his usual blue captain’s coat.  Even from a distance he was unmistakable: eye patch, tricorner hat, wooden leg, and a bright red bird that sat on his shoulder.  He stood on a crate, screaming to the throng at the top of his lungs.

“Now be the time, me brothers! We’ve been oppressed fer too long! Th’ Captain’s Council revoked th’ Law of Succession just to prevent an orc from sittin’ on th’ throne! We must rise up before it’s too late.” 

The crowd applauded his words and shouted encouragement. 

“We aren’t going to war!  We can stop it!  We march to th’ Fortress of Justice and make ‘em hear us!”

As he stepped down from the crate to lead his followers on their march, a large contingent of Sea Lord’s Guardsmen armed with smash sticks entered the plaza from one end. A group of elorii wearing dark green tunics with a golden harp emblazoned on them and wielding clubs entered from the other.  Together, the two groups outnumbered the orcs almost two to one.  

An uneasy silence settled over the plaza, as if no one knew what to do next.

Sebastian recognized the gold harp symbols as belonging to Arias Soderheim, the sole elorii on the Captain’s Council. He launched off the rooftop and landed next to Drak.  The elves and guardsmen began slapping their clubs into open palms.

“What’s this about the Law of Succession?”

“Sebastian,” shouted the orc pirate.  “Ye got me sextant?”

Sebastian folded his wings.  “It’s safe, but I cannot give it to you now.  Not here.”

“Was in th’ Shipping News today.  Th’ Captain’s Council is afraid of us!” The crowd roared its approval. “Did ye know that the Council is closing a deal with th’ elves to join the war?”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed.  “Who told you this?”

“One o’ the barbarians told me, but that doesn’t matter.  Gimme the sextant!”

“No.  Don’t push me, orc.  I am not to be trifled with.”

“Bah!” snorted Drak.  “Kenzil blew off me leg and me eye.  If ye think ye can do worse, yer welcome t’ try!”

Sebastian tried a different tactic. “Would siding with the elves be so bad?”

“What?” The crowd booed.  “Side with elves?  We’d rather die than hand Freeport over t’ the elves!”  Drak spat on the ground in front of Sebastian.  

What ensued was a rainstorm of spitting, as the orcs all did likewise.  

One orc near the elves was a little too overzealous.  He spat a phlegmy glob that spiraled in slow motion to land on the boot of the captain of Arias Soderheim’s guard.

There was a collective gasp among the elves. 

“Attack!”

The elves charged forward.  The Sea Lord’s Guard charged forward.  Sebastian took to the air.

“ENOUGH!” He strafed the ensuing clash between elorii and orc.  “Incendiares globus!”

A ball of flame engulfed both orcs and elves as they clashed, incinerating those at the forefront, immolating the luckier ones.  Both sides ran screaming as the flames blasted them backwards.

That didn’t stop the Sea Lord’s Guard.  The orcs routed, the Guard rounded up the stragglers, including Drak. 

Sebastian flew higher.  From his vantage point, he could see orcs running off in different directions throughout Freeport.  

Within moments, the streets were abuzz.  Cheers went up from men gathered on a nearby street corner, while a shop owner shouted them down in turn.  

It was then that Sebastian realized he had unintentionally ignited a riot.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 2 – The First Signs of Trouble*

Crowds of men argued in the street, and where once trade and commerce took the forefront, it seemed as though everyone was more interested in the council’s decree.  Sebastian flew over the city, taking it all in.

Shops that were usually open for business were curiously vacant, their windows still shuttered from the night before as their owners and operators discussed the situation.  The normal hum of noise that filled the city’s streets was dulled and in its place was uncomfortable, quiet conversations and worried looks passing silently between vendor and buyer. Even the normally bustling docks were curiously calm, and sailors and deckhands leaned against the rails of their ships, lost in their own thoughts.

He finally landed on the rooftop near the Shipping News office.  A paperboy threw a copy to someone.

Sebastian pointed at the flying paper.  “Magis attrecto!”

The paper changed its course and flew into Sebastian’s hands.  To the paperboy, it looked like he had overshot his target.  He threw another one that reached the customer unimpeded.

Sebastian snapped the paper open.  It read: “CAPTAIN’S COUNCIL REVOKES LAW OF SUCCESSION IN POWER GRAB.” 

The man who read the same headline gathered two of his comrades and stalked down the street towards the paper’s office, a crumpled up copy of the newspaper in hand.  Sebastian tracked him from the air.

The low murmur of conversation filled the street in front of the office belonging to the Shipping News.  The building was nearly completely surrounded by disgruntled-looking citizens, many of whom clutched copies of the special edition in their hands.  Occasionally, an angry shout went up from a person in the crowd, but the general mood was that of simmering unease rather than outright anger.  

After a few minutes, the door to the office opened and a short, round man in garish clothing stepped out into the street.  With his appearance, the crowd became much livelier, and within a few seconds, the entire street was filled with the deafening roar of hundreds of shouting people.

Cries of “shut this rag down!” and “tell ‘em the truth, C.Q.!” went up, with a chorus of cheers and jeers accompanying each one.  Stepping up onto a wooden crate, C.Q. Calame waved the crowd into silence, clutching a tattered cigar between his plump fingers. 

“Good people of Freeport, be calm and hear me! Today’s edition of The Shipping News is but a window into the inner workings of the Captains’ Council, and I, your humble public servant, seek only to enlighten the masses as to the recent folly of the council’s members.  I know that many of you are upset or frightened, and it is as you should be, fore there are those on the council that seek only to fatten their own purses by crushing you under their boot heels.  For those of you that disagree with the columns in today’s special edition, I thank you for your patronage but urge you to remember that I am but the messenger.”

Several people in the audience began arguing loudly with one another.  Then suddenly a ripple of violence spasmed the crowd, as fist fights broke out between the two rival groups.  Fists flew, blood sprayed, ad the air was filled with a cacophony of terrified shrieks, clashing blades, and angry shouting.  

The startled newspaperman was caught in the middle.  He turned to the door but discovered it locked.  

C.Q. leapt down off his box and hammered desperately on the door. “Let me back in!” 

To angry citizens grabbed C.Q. and pulled him down into the crowd. 

Sebastian sighed.  More violence.

He spread his bat-like wings, casting a long shadow over the crowd.  “ENOUGH!” 

The crowd began kicking C.Q.

“I said…” began Sebastian. “Incendiares globus!”

Flames blasted the crowd, igniting the offices of the Shipping News.  People screamed and stumbled away, struggling to put out their flaming clothes.

Sebastian landed in front of C.Q. and helped him to his feet.  

Although he had a bloody nose and a swollen left eye, C.Q. managed to compose himself. “Ah, the inimitable Sebastian Arnyal, I presume.”

Sebastian nodded, arms crossed.  “And you are C.Q. Calame, father of Letah Calame and owner of The Shipping News.”

C.Q. lit his cigar off of one of the crowd members who had tried to kill him.  The man was face down, his head ablaze.  

“Gang members.”  He pointed at the jagged tattoo around the dead man’s neck.  “The Cutthroats started this fight.”

Sebastian sniffed.  “Your article about me was untrue.  I am no serial killer.”

“Of course not, of course not.”  C.Q. took a puff of his cigar.  “My daughter is the apple of my eye, you know, but she can…exaggerate, from time to time.  But you ARE a killer and a good one at that.  I swear by Sarish that you’ll get no more negative press out of me.  For you or your friends.”

“Good,” said the dark-kin with a slight smile.  “You just saved your own life.”

C.Q. coughed.  “Speaking of saving things, would you mind being a hero and saving The Shipping News?”  He pointed at the spreading fire behind him.  Smoke poured from the windows. The staff that had barred themselves inside were banging at the doors to get out.  

“Oh, right.”  Sebastian turned with open palms facing the offices. “Algor conus!”

A freezing blast of ice and snow engulfed the building.  The flames went out immediately, although they had already spread to other buildings.

“Thanks.” C.Q. adjusted dusted off his vest, sprinkling soot on the ground. “You may want to split, the Sea Lord’s Guard are on their way.”

He turned, but Sebastian was already gone.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 3 – Freeport in Chaos*

From the newspaper office, the riots spread like wildfire throughout the city.  Within minutes, groups of people that were peacefully gathered before became a riotous mob, violently lashing with other crowds and looting and pillaging as they went.  The mobs were increasingly destructive, mowing through the city like a vicious, many-headed serpent.  In less than a half hour, Sebastian’s conflagration caused thick billows of black smoke to rise from rooftops around the city. 

The sounds of violence echoed down every street as Beldin passed.  Those citizens not involved in the riot holed themselves up in their houses and shops, shuttering the windows and barring the doors.  Most streets stood empty, with only stray dogs and debris drifting between buildings.

By contrast, the rioting mobs themselves were loud and brutal.  Composed of orcs and human gang members, the mobs tore a destructive swathe through Freeport with every passing moment.  

Amid the violent brawls and cacophony of the riot, a lone woman sat leaning against the side of a nearby building, eyes unfocused and seemingly unaware of her dangerous surroundings. Strikingly beautiful with long dark red hair and a lithe body, a, she stood out against the ugly backdrop of the unruly crowds.  It was likely only her inaction had kept from coming to the attention of the rioters.  

Beldin squinted.  “You’re Letah Calame, aren’t you?”

“I…” her eyes were glazed. “My bodyguard…we were on the way to the Salon du Masque…”

The dwarf let out a heavy sigh.  “Given the lies you’ve been spreading about me and my friends, I don’t see why I should help you, but…” He took out his axe.  “Follow me.”

It didn’t take long before he came upon another dangerous scene.  Gang members had commandeered buildings to either side of the street.  Arrows, crossbow bolts, and stones flew back and forth between the two sets of buildings, creating a dangerous crossfire that passed between all levels of the two- and three-story buildings.

Down the street, a redheaded woman was huddled beneath an overturned cart. Each time an arrow or bolt thunked into the wooden barrier provided by the cart, she let out a shriek of terror.

Beldin recognized her.  It was Nell, protégé of Falthar val’Abebi and the new owner of Falthar’s Curios. 

Beldin fished a potion out of his belt pouch and handed it to Letah.  “Drink this.”

The former cultist of Larissa was coming out of her shock. “What is it?” 

“It will protect you from harm.  When I say run, you run as fast as you can towards the cart.”

Letah took a swig of the potion.  “Wait, we’re running INTO that mess?”

“RUN!” commanded Beldin.

Letah took off, her long legs easily outpacing the huffing dwarf.  A bolt fired right towards her head, but stopped in mid-air, inches from her face.  She screamed, but kept running.

Letah skidded underneath the cart.  Beldin blocked the opening to the overturned cart with his shield.  

“Make her drink this.” He threw another potion to Letah. “It will protect her like the other potion protected you.  Watch her while I’m gone.”

Letah caught the potion and handed it to Nell.  “What’s protecting you?”

Several bolts and arrows jutted from Beldin’s stout frame.  Blood trickled out of the wounds in his armor. 

“I’m going to go clean up Freeport,” he said.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 4 – Shark, Ahoy!*

The sun had set, casting an eerie pall over the burning embers across Freeport’s buildings.  Sebastian sat atop yet another building, brooding on the events he had caused.  It wasn’t so much that he felt bad about it, as things had taken an unexpected turn.  He was no closer to stopping Leviathan.  But perhaps he could turn things to his advantage…

A strange roar interrupted his thoughts.  In the distance, a ball of flames billowed in front of the Sea Lord’s Palace.

Sebastian took wing, flapping his wings to gain lift.  Something whistled upwards toward him from the fireball.  He twisted and the projectile whizzed past him.  It struck the wall of the building behind him with such force that bricks were dislodged in a powder of dust and debris. Whatever it was that nearly hit him, it was heavy.

Sebastian looked down.  Rolling to a stop was the head of the Spirit of Freeport, the statue that had been created by Marissa Lapideaux and placed in front of the Sea Lord’s Palace.  

Sebastian launched himself towards the Sea Lord’s Palace.  Below him, people ran in crowds from the source of the explosion, screaming in terror.  He kept flying, only to make out a terrible sight.

The thing was colossal, easily over sixty feet tall.  It was draconic in appearance, with vicious maws atop two long, sinuous necks. Its hunched lower body smashed through the street, its tail whipping in agitation.  Blood-red eyes released gouts of flame.

The crowd had scattered.  A lone elorii stood in the center of the wreckage, facing the beast down, an arrow knocked in his bow. 

Sebastian landed next to him.  “This thing yours?”

The elorii nodded.  “We were transporting the two-headed rage drake to the ship Menagerie.  When the riots broke out, the sedation wore off.  We’ve got to stop it!” He fired the arrow.

It struck the rage drake in one of its snouts.  The beast’s head whipped around, roaring.  

Sebastian took to the air as the other head tracked him.  It yawned and flames blasted towards the dark-kin, forcing him backwards as the superheated air caught his wings. 

The first head snatched the elorii up like a snake striking a rat.  It recoiled, tossing the elf in the air.  He screamed as he tumbled head over heels, but it was cut off by the other head, biting gently into his torso.  The first head bit into the other side.

Sebastian looked away as there was a terrible crunching sound, followed by the spatter of blood and organs on the pavement.

The heads turned to track him once more.  Sebastian flew higher.  

Suddenly, they snapped back towards the ground, distracted.  An absurdly tiny figure was hacking at one of the drake’s legs with an axe.

“Beldin, you fool!” shouted Sebastian.  He unleashed a gout of flames at the thing, but the blast merely washed over the creature’s scales.

“If it breathes fire,” Beldin shouted up at him, “it’s immune to fire!”

That was all the dwarf got out.  One of the heads snatched him up and for a moment Sebastian lost track of him.

But then the awful head snapped back again, tossing the dwarf like a rag doll into the air.  Sebastian strafed the drake’s body. “Algor conus!”

Frost covered the beast, but the inevitable was happening.  The second head caught Beldin in mid-air.  The first head reached for the tough morsel, dagger-like maw opened wide…

“NOOOO!” screamed Sebastian.  He pointed his closed fists at the drake, forgetting even the words to his spell.  Sizzling black and red energy spiraled from his fists, slicing through both heads of the rage drake.  With a cough, the lower torso slumped to the ground.  Beldin’s body tumbled out of its mouth.

The dark-kin looked down at his hands in disbelief.  The energy had come from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere dark and feral and angry. He thought he heard shrieks when the energy was released, thought he saw faces in the beams.  It was if he had released his soul to the world, and the world wept. 

Sebastian flew down to pick him up.  The dwarf was dead.  But he would not be dead for long.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 5 – The Sea God’s Shrine*

Sebastian landed in front of the Temple of Cadic.  It was ransacked and damaged.  Shouts of terror and sadistic glee came from within. 

Sebastian laid Beldin’s body at the entrance and walked inside, unafraid.

The place was a wreck. A dwarf held a beaten Father Peg-Leg by the hair, blood trailing from the old man’s mouth.  

“Let him go,” said Sebastian. “I need him.”

“And who the hell be ye?” snarled the dwarf.  

“That doesn’t matter.  What matters is you let him go and I might let you live.”

Four thugs stepped out from the pews, battleaxes in their hands.  

“Bow yer head!” snarled the dwarf.  “Ye be in the presence o’ royalty!  I be Bloody Jack, King o’ the Cutthroats.”

“I bow to no man,” said Sebastian calmly.  “This is your last chance.”

“Funny,” said the dwarf.  “I was thinkin’ the same thing.  Get ‘im boys.”

The four thugs converged on the dark-kin at once.  One of the thugs swung a battleaxe at Sebastian’s head. 

He put one hand up and caught the axe in his open palm. The gang member looked at his weapon in shock.

“I came prepared,” said Sebastian with a smirk.  “Did you?”  

”He can’t stop ye all!” shouted Bloody Jack.  “Tackle ‘im!”

The dark-kin snapped out his wings, bashing two of the thugs aside.  But the remaining two grabbed him by the arms.  Sebastian’s tail snaked around and the stinger struck one of the thug’s under the chin.  Poisoned pumped directly into his brain. The thug gurgled, eyes rolling his head, and fell over.  

BLAM!

Sebastian flew backwards from the blast, his head hitting a pew.  Had he not cast his protective spells first, he would have died from the bullet. Instead, it merely stunned him.

Bloody Jack stood with a smoking pistol in one hand.  “Sarish’s ass, have I got t’ do everything mesself? Grab ‘im and keep his mouth covered.  He can’t cast spells if he can’t speak. “

The other three thugs grabbed Sebastian. Two pinned his arms, while the third covered his mouth.  

Bloody Jack straddled the prone sorcerer. “Since ye’ve got all these pretty magicks.”  He pulled out a long, wicked knife.  “I’m gonna saw through yer neck. I be thinkin’ I’ll take me time. And it’s gonna hurt.  A lot.”  He put the knife to Sebastian’s throat.

Sebastian pointed one fist at Bloody Jack’s head.  A shrieking beam of eldritch energy roared through the dwarf’s skull, melting it before the thug’s very eyes.  Bloody Jack went rigid and then fell backwards off of Sebastian. 

The dark-kin laughed. And laughed.  And laughed.

The thugs let go of him, horrified.

“Anyone else?” he hissed. 

They turned and ran out of the temple.

Sebastian helped Father Peg-Leg to his feet.  “Get up Father.  Beldin needs your help.”

Father Peg-Leg, who saw it all, croaked.  “And who is goin’ to help ye?”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 6 – Thralen’s Plea for Help*

The riots raged on in the city for hours.  By nightfall, the air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood.  Except for the most violent mobs still rampaging throughout the city, most of the rioters bled off and returned to their homes, their anger spent by the end of the day.  By sundown, the remaining members of the Sea Lord’s Guard managed to disperse most of the crowds and send those few they arrested to prison. 

A relative calm settled over Freeport at nightfall, but it was short-lived.  As the evening passed, the surviving members of the Sea Lord’s Guard launched an all-out attack on the Cutthroats, taking advantage of the death of their leader.  Throughout the city, guardsmen assaulted known haunts and safe houses frequented by gang members, killing dozens in the process.  By the time night had fully fallen, the streets of Freeport ran red with the blood of criminals and ordinary citizens alike. 

With order at least mostly restored, the city slowly got back into its usual rhythm.  Though there were many missing faces on the street the next day—the riot took a severe toll on even the peaceful populace—most of the city was back to doing business. A fearful melancholy hung over most of the inhabitants.

Beldin, fully restored by Peg-Leg’s healing magic, joined Sebastian at Thralen Vodric Ossan’s home. It was clear the man had not slept well in awhile.  

“I’d like to thank you both again for coming on such short notice,” said Thralen in his usual baritone.  “Much has…” he looked Sebastian up and down. “…changed, since we last met.”

Sebastian pretended not to notice. 

“I’m afraid events have already been set into motion that could mean serious trouble for Freeport, particularly the Captain’s Council.”

“I thought you and Emric were in hiding,” said Beldin.  

“The riots saw to it that we could hide no longer.  During yesterday’s riots, I sequestered Emric in my home, using my personal militia to protect the estate from harm.  Some time during the riots, Emric was kidnapped and taken to parts unknown.”

Sebastian sighed.

“I suspect his disappearance is no mere act of random violence.  Nor do I expect ransom demands to be forthcoming.”

“It is no coincidence that the Law of Succession was repealed,” said Sebastian.  “And then shortly thereafter Drak Scarbelly was arrested and now Emric kidnapped.  Someone wants very much to keep the position clear.”

“I suspect Arias Soderheim,” said Thralen. “He has always been ambitious and has a ruthless streak in him that I suspect might make him capable of such an act.”

“Let’s see the room where Emric was kidnapped,” said Sebatian. “We’ll follow the trail from there.”

Thralen led Beldin upstairs to the boy’s room.  Sebastian flew up to the roof to gain some perspective. 

Down below, he noticed several beggars in the alley.  He landed with a flap of his wings.

“You there.  Beggars.  I wish to speak with you.”

The beggars whispered amongst themselves.  “You wish to speak to us?”

“Yes.”  Sebastian took a bag of gold out of his belt pouch and dangled it before him, spilling doubloons onto the street.  The beggars scrambled to pick it up.

“What is it you with to know?” cackled one.

“What did you see last night?”

“Six men climbed a ladder!” said one.

“One of them an elf,” said another.

“They went up into the second-story window!” said a third.

“And what did they return with?” asked Sebastian. 

“Something wrapped in a sack,” said the first beggar.  “A boy, perhaps. They left traveling towards the Warehouse Distrct.”

Beldin leaned out the window.  “Sebastian! I found evidence that Emric was kidnapped by sailors…”

“I know,” said Sebastian.  “In the Warehouse District.”  

The dark-kin rubbed his forehead.  “Warehouses.  Why did it have to be warehouses?"


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 7 – The Warehouse District*

It didn’t take long for them to find Warehouse 48, owned by none other than Baldric himself. When they arrived, they found a large whale of a man with reddened, leathery skin and stark white eyebrows and beard. He was ranting and raving outside.

“This is intolerable!  I’ll take the repairs out of his skinny hide!”

Sebastian landed and the man stopped talking for only a second.  “Have you seen six men carrying a sack come this way?”

The white eyebrows shot up. “What? Who are you?”

Beldin stepped forward and shook the man’s hand.  “I’m Beldin Soulforge and this is Sebastian Arnyal.  And you are…?”

“Captain Bartelbee.” He didn’t take his eyes off Sebastian.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Bartelbee” said Baldric.  “What happened here?”

“Yesterday, during the riots, me and my sailors were guarding my ship when a bunch of elves come scurrying back to The Knife in a hurry.”

“The Knife?” asked Beldin. “That’s a ship?” 

“Aye.  They loaded some small cargo onto the ship and began cutting their moorings and getting it underway.  The Knife’s crew worked quickly. They moved like devils were at their heels.  In their haste, they smashed the side of my ship!”  He started cursed and swearing again. “It’ll cost a king’s ransom to fix!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and fished out a coin purse full of gold doubloons.  “This should fix it. Now which way did they go?”

Bartelbee’s eyes bugged out as he took the purse.  He immediately started pouring the coins into one palm, silently counting as he spoke.

“I was going to give chase, but we had to patch the ship before it sank.  The Knife was sailing over the horizon in the direction of Windward.”

“Then Windward is where we’re going,” said Sebastian.  “Now we just need…”

“What ho?” shouted Baldric from across the docks.  “Ye look like lads in need o’ a ship?”

Beldin stroked his beard.  “You knew we’d need a ship, wouldn’t you!”

Baldric winked at them with his good eye.  “We were already on high alert since I been planning to get out before the storm hits in full force. We’re ready t’ set sail when ye be!”

“Convenient,” said Sebastian.

They left Bartelbee to count his coins. 

“Are you going to bribe everyone with gold to get your way?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian sneered at him. “It saved your life, didn’t it?”

Beldin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but the thought made him uneasy as they stepped onto the deck of the Naoke.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 8 – Bloody Tide*

The winds were strong and only through the incredible efforts of the crew did they manage to cross the treacherous waters to reach Windward Isle.  Through the lashing rain, they could make out a white strand of beach and the fitful flames of bonfires.  A ship of no inconsequential size was anchored a few hundred yards from shore.  Though the sails were furled, the other ship rocked alarmingly and its lanterns swung wildly.

As they made ready, a cry of horror pierced the shrieking wind.  Climbing over the rails were fearsome creatures, some sort of a cross between a man and a shark. It was led by something grotesque and strong.

The leader was six-feet tall, with slick blue-black skin stretched tautly over knotty cords of muscle, long arms ending in viciously taloned and webbed claws, a bullet-like head with no discernable neck, and a face more fish than human.  

“Camring!” gasped Beldin.  

“That’s right!” snarled a familiar feminine voice from behind him.  “My son has returned to claim his legacy!”

“Sycorax?” Sebastian sighed.  “How many vampires stowed away on this ship, anyway?”

“One too many!”  Sycorax coalesced at the forecastle, a stiletto in her restored hand, a rapier in the other.  “You’ll not fly away to safety this time, little bat.”

Sebastian snapped out his wings, but he realized that she was right—the wind was so strong that it lifted him up, smashing him against the mainmast. He averted his gaze, screwing his eyes shut and turning his head.

But Sycorax would have none of it.  She stalked over to the sorcerer even as the sahuagin leaped over the rails to engage the Naoke’s crew.  

Beldin moved to intercept the sea witch, but a trident skewered him in the shoulder.  He yanked it out.  The trident glowed and disappeared in his hand.

It reappeared in Camring’s webbed fist. 

Sycorax grabbed Sebastian’s head and wrenched it around to face her.  “Open your eyes!” she shrieked. Fingernails dug into the flesh of his brow.

Beldin drew Windcutter.  “Time to earn your title,” he shouted over the roaring wind.  

The warrior brought the weapon up just in time as Camring’s trident speared downward, knocking the barbed points only inches from his beard.

“I am truly qualified to be Sea Lord, yes?” he gurgled.

Behind him, Sebastian screamed.  Beldin whirled, but Camring hopped into his path. 

Sycorax stood in front of Sebastian’s twitching body, coldly beautiful in the whipping wind and rain.  She held rapier and stiletto at the ready. “Come, dwarf!  Let us finish what we started!”

Beldin had an idea.  “You’re right.” He hunkered down and charged into Camring, unbalancing the fish-man.  Grabbing him by the slimy torso, Beldin kept stumping forward despite the tossing ship and sloshing waves.

With a mighty heave, he hurled Camring onto Sycorax’s blades.  The rapier and stiletto skewered him.  

Camring’s howl of pain was joined by Sycorax’s horrified shriek.  

“You should know better, Sycorax!” shouted Beldin.  “Vampires can’t cross running water!”  

He barreled into them both with his shield.  Mother and son tumbled into the swirling surf, marked occasionally by huge shark fins that pierced the surface.  Sycorax disintegrated as she hit the ocean, leaving Camring to slowly sink in a red pool with rapier and stiletto jutting from his torso. 

The other sahuagin, seeing their leaders defeated, dove over the side.

Baldric leaned over Sebastian. “Is he…”

“He’ll be fine.”  Beldin handed a potion to Baldric.  “Take him below decks and make him drink this.”

“Who was that?” asked the pirate captain.

“One less successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 9 – The Knife*

In the sea, rocking on the high waves, was a large ship about the size of a caravel.  Despite the driving rain and wind, shapes could be seen moving about on the deck.  As they drew nearer, great roaring fires illuminated the shore, revealing a number of burning buildings and a beach littered with the dead.  Behind the carnage rose a large inn Lights shined through its shuttered windows.  Out in front, a number of smaller boats lay scattered about.

Sebastian clambered up onto the deck of the ship, unaccustomed to such an undignified approach.  But there was no help for it; the weather didn’t allow flight. Beldin followed behind, untroubled by the rocking motion of the ship.

The Knife’s main deck was crowded with coils of rope, crates, cages holding chickens and pigs, and assorted other supplies. 

Sebastian tried the door to the forecabin.  It was locked.  

He withdrew a chime from the folds of his sodden robes and rang it once.  Despite the roaring wind, a single, clear note rang out.  The door unlocked. 

Inside was a large cabin with triple bunks lining the walls.  The foremast ran from the floor out through the ceilings.  A single lantern illuminated the room and its inhabitants.  

The bald elorii struggled to pull up his pants at the intrusion.  “I shaid I was busy!” he slurred.

A young boy scrambled to his feet. 

Sebastian shook himself off, stretching his wings out.  “Talathiel.  I should have known.”

Beldin came in a moment later. “What was going on here?” he asked hesitantly.

Talathiel chuckled.  “I don’t expecht you to understand the rightsh of Larissha.”

“You’re drunk,” said Sebastian.  “You sicken me.”

“The Sea Lord of Freetown!” whispered the boy.  “He has come to reclaim his birthright!”

Talathiel gave the boy a backwards glance, then turned back to Sebastian. “What, no hello for your old friend Talathiel?  I’ve no doorsh or cultsh to hide today.”

Sebastian lifted his palms.  “You kidnapped Emric.  For your sake, the boy had better be returned unharmed, or I will make you suffer far more than any faux torture you can dream up in your Larissan rites.”

Talathiel swayed slightly, pushing the boy, who appeared to be about thirteen years of age, behind him.  “Shounds kinky.  Maybe you’d like to share a boy with me?”

Beldin growled.  “Let him go.”

Talathiel struggled to compose himself.  “Oh, that’sh choice.  You want to rescue him?  You may want to reshcue yourshelves firsht.”

A shadow loomed behind Beldin.  He whirled to face an immensely tall, well-muscled man with a topknot whose skin was covered in strange tattoos.

“You!” snarled Beldin.  “You were the one who kidnapped Ilmare!”

The half-naked man took a step back, the rain dripping from his perfectly sculpted torso.  A whip was in his hand. 

With their attention distracted, Talathiel made his move.  He acted as if he were going to vomit—instead, a belch of flames exploded from his mouth.

Sebastian stumbled backwards, surprised by the attack.  Simultaneously, the incubus snapped its whip, encircling Beldin’s throat.

“I’ve got a few tricksh up my shleeve shince we lasht met,” hiccupped Talathiel. “Thish time there will be no pushing me around.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he recovered his balance.  “I’ve got a few tricks of my own.”

Beldin hacked at the whip with Windcutter, snapping it in two.  

On the other side of the doorway, Sebastian unleashed a blast of eldritch energy, but Talathiel stumbled out of the way.

The drunken elorii stumbled forward, grabbing a bucket as he advanced on Sebastian.  With a roar, he charged at him head on…

Only to strike the wall next to Sebastian.  The bald elorii fell prone, staring up at his opponent.

“Medricas val’Assante!” shouted Beldin.  “Come to my aid!”

The incubus recoiled at the words, fear painting its features for the first time.  Beldin threw Windcutter with both hands.

The axe sailed through the air and pinned the incubus to the mainmast.  It exploded in a burst of flames.

Seconds later, Sebastian mercilessly finished off the helpless Talathiel with a blast of eldritch energy to the face.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 10 – Going to the Island*

Stretching out about a hundred feet into the water was a sturdy wooden pier.  A few smaller ships were stilled tied off and rocked in the turbulent waters.  On the shore were beached rowboats, lipped over so their hulls were face up.  A stone path led from the pier up to Felix’s, an upscale resort that offered comfort, quality, and a place away from the hustle and bustle of Freeport.

Scattered all over the beach were about a dozen corpses.  Strange, serpent-like silhouettes ducked their heads in and out of the corpses, feasting on the dead.

One man was propped up, hair concealing his features, his body tied to an “X” on the beach.  

Sebastian unleashed a blast of eldritch energy from his fingertips, scorching one of the serpents.  It hissed, and the other four reared their heads.  It was clear they were degenerate specimens of ssanu, if such a thing were possible.

“What did you do that for?” shouted Beldin.

“That man,” said Sebastian, beginning an incantation, “might be able to tell us where Emric is.”

Beldin cut off one of the degenerate ssanu’s attacks by striking first, chopping it down with one blow.  It spasmed once and was still. 

A blast of flames engulfed the ssanu, but they were so soaked from seawater and rain that they only steamed from the fire.  

“Algor conus!”

A spiraling cone of frozen ice turned the steam to a tomb, entrapping the ssanu in mid-action.  

“And now we can finally get to the bottom of this.”  Sebastian walked over to the tied up hostage, but Beldin reached him first.

He lifted the man’s head by the long hair that concealed his features…

It was little more than a skull, the flesh ripped off.  

Sebastian sighed.  “So much for our intel.”

“Forget intel.” Beldin released the man’s head, and the corpse resumed its upright position. Tied to the X, it looked as if he were in meditation.  “This was Felix.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 11 – Felix’s*

Felix’s resort was a large building that once offered excellent service, food, and accommodations.  It was the perfect getaway for Freeoprt’e elite, serving all of the Captain’s Council, important merchants, and dignitaries from foreign lands.  

The one-posh establishment had transformed into a disgusting charnel house, the playground for bloodthirsty pirates. By the time Sebastian and Beldin reached the resort, it appeared that the entire staff had been murdered, their corpses strewn about the beach. 

A covered porch dominated the front of the resort.  The supporting beams featured a number of hooks for holding nets, hats, baggage, and other items.  The porch also held a few chairs and a couple of ceramic pots that served as spittoons.  Boards covered the windows to protect them from flying debris.  The door hung on a single hinge and swung in the gusts. 

“They put up a fight,” said Beldin sadly.

Sebastian crossed his wrists in front of him and promptly disappeared.  “Keep them busy,” came his voice from nowhere.  

After drinking several potions that increased his strength and size, Beldin soldiered on.  Inside, the dining hall was a large open room that had once been filled with tables, chairs, and maritime décor.  No longer. The place was a shambles.  The iron hoops that served as chandeliers were the only thing still intact, though the candles had burned down to the stubs and sputtered with each blast of wind through the door.  Corpses littered the floor and stairs leading up to the second floor.  The place stank of beer, blood, and smoke.  

Elorii pirates, armed with crossbows, crouched on either side of the room. At the far side was Persius Sharpe, the elorii captain, holding a flintlock to Emric’s head.  Mentire Aboir, a hunched gnome with a tattooed in the form of a skull, leaned on his staff next to him.  Standing in Beldin’s path was none other than the elorii bounty hunter who had tried to kill them over a year ago in Freeport, Garadon. 

“Amazing,” said Mentire said in disbelief.  “We surely thought no one would come waltzing through the front door like that.  And yet, here you are.” He wheezed a laugh.  “Leave it to a dwarf!”

“Let the boy go,” said Beldin. Garadon pulsed with energy, larger and more menacing that he had been when Beldin last saw him.  

“Let him go?” said the gnome.  “Let him go?  You’ve been keeping company with Martell for too long.  We’re not going to let the boy go.  We have orders to keep him here until Freeport picks a new successor to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

Beldin took a step forward.  Garadon crouched.

“And then?” 

“There’s always the ghouls outside,” cackled Mentire. “Or Talathiel.”

Beldin’s next response was cut off by the screams of the elorii on his left side.  Sebastian, no longer invisible, stood with smoking fists outside the window.  The five elorii dropped, sparking bolts of energy that danced between their corpses and nearby furniture.

Garadon didn’t wait.  The huge elorii was on Beldin lightning fast.  He struck Beldin’s shield so hard with his longsword that the dwarf nearly dropped it.

Beldin swung at him, connecting with the elorii’s head…but his axe passed right through it.  Garadon blurred sideways, a few afterimages following behind him.

“Sebastian!” shouted Beldin.  “He’s protected!”

Crossbow bolts fired from the remaining elorii pirates, some focusing on Beldin, others on Sebastian, who ducked below the window.

“Worry about your own magic, dwarf,” snarled Mentirre. “Resolvo veneficus!”

Beldin started shrinking.  He felt the strength sap from his limbs.  

Mentire cackled.  “My giant beats yours!” 

Sebastian thrust one arm through an open window and aimed it at Garadon.  Eldritch energy energy pulsed from his fist into the back of the giant elorii, reducing him to his own size.  

Beldin took a few experimental swings at his normal-sized enemy. “That’s a new trick.”

The dwarf struck again, and this time Garadon was forced to block with his buckler.  It was barely enough to deflect the blow.  The silent elorii shook out his shield arm in agitation.

A crossbow bounced off of Beldin’s armor.  Not all of the protective magics had been dispelled.  Good.

Mentire turned his attention to Sebastian.  “That’s enough of that: algor conus!”

Freezing cold blasted from Mentire’s fingertips.  Persius watch impassively, holding Emric by the throat with one hand and the pistol in another. 

Garadon rolled to Beldin’s left and came up swinging hard.  Beldin blocked it and struck the elorii a glancing blow to his shoulder, above the paltry protection the buckler provided.  Garadon fell backwards, stumbling over a table.  He flipped back up to his feet, but it was clear the elorii was winded.

Sebastian was nowhere to be found.  With the windows frozen over, his entrance was blocked.

“Now,” cackled Mentire, “I will teach you to bow to a new master: nulluas facultas!” 

Black lightning sparked from Mentire’s outstretched fingertips, dancing over Beldin’s entire body.  The dwarf grunted and fell to one knee.  

Slowly, he got up again.  

“Die!” snarled Mentire.  “Nullus facultas!” More black energy surged into the dwarf.  It felt as if bloodsucking bees were stinging his whole body. 

Beldin spat blood.  Something had burst inside him, something he probably needed.  After a moment, he took another step forward.

“Impossible!” shouted Mentire.  “Why won’t you DIE?!  NULLUS FACULTAS!”

More black lightning blasted from Mentire’s fingertips.  Beldin finally went down to his knees, panting.

Garadon took hold of his longsword with both hands and stood over the dwarf.

“Finish it,” said Mentire.

Garadon lifted the blade. Beldin just looked down at the ground, too drained to care.

The shattering of ice was the only warning Garadon got.  The elorii turned to look as a bat-winged blur slammed into him.  Sizzling eldritch energy blasted ahead of Sebastian, pinning the elorii to the wall as he writhed in unholy flames. 

Mentire watched in shock, mouth agape.  With the last of his energy, Beldin hurled Windcutter through the air.  And true to its name, the dwarven waraxe sailed end over end as if it were a throwing dagger, burying itself in Mentire’s chest.  The gnome let out a rattling wheeze and collapsed, staring in awe at the axe lodged in his ribcage.

Sebastian hopped to his feet, wings spread, ready for combat.  He fanned out his hands at the other elorii pirates. “Algor conus!”

The cone of ice turned the other elorii pirates into ice crystals, ending at Persius’ feet. Sebastian had been careful not to encompass the boy in his spell. 

Persius’s position hadn’t changed.  He hadn’t blinked the entire time. Emric seemed similarly entranced and stood stock still, like two mannequins in some sort of gruesome display.

“Persius,” croaked Beldin, “why are you doing this?”

“Anulee deserved a second chance.” Persius methodically lifted his pistol and drew a bead on the unarmed dwarf’s forehead.

“Now Dracuul!” shouted Sebastian.

A small bat landed on Persius’ back and sank its fangs into his neck. 

Persius jolted, twitching, as Sebastian’s stored spell drank his life force.  Then he too fell to the ground.

Sebastian helped Beldin to his feet.  Mentire gurgled, his bloody lungs struggling to breathe their last.  Beldin made his way over to him.

Sebastian stood over Persius.  “Is this out of revenge for killing Anulee?”  He leaned down to whisper into the dying elorii’s ear.  “She was mad.  I had no choice but to kill her. If it makes you feel better, her death was quick.”

“…take good care…of…her…” then he expired.

Beldin yanked Windcutter out of the gnome’s chest. Mentire screeched and then promptly expired.

Emric started, coming out of the trance.  “W-what happened?”

“You were ensorcelled,” said Sebastian, rifling through Mentire’s belongings.  He pulled out a note and read it.  “Judging from this document, Mentire was hired by Arias Soderheim to kidnap you to prevent you from laying claim to the Sea Lord’s throne.”

Beldin leaned on Windcutter, staring down at Persius’ corpse.  “He could have killed the boy at any time.  Maybe a small part of him knew it was wrong.”

“He was going to kill you,” sneered Sebastian. “That doesn’t seem too altruistic to me.”

Emric looked around in wonder, as if he was seeing the room for the first time.  “Now what?”

“Now,” Sebastian stalked towards the door, “we reclaim your birthright.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 12a – The Council’s Decree*

Sebastian and Beldin returned just ahead of the hurricane, only to find Freeport battening down the hatches of one of the worst storms the city had ever seen.  Priests of Yarris preached at the waterfront, beseeching their god to show mercy, while others claimed the hurricane was punishment for the desecrations that took place during the riots. 

They returned Emric promptly to Thralen’s residence, pausing for several hours to wait out the hurricane. Then they promptly hurried to the Plaza of Gold.  

“I’ve called for an emergency meeting of the Captain’s Council, as you requested,” said Thralen.  “But I’m not sure that having it in public is wise…”

“It’s the only way,” snapped Sebastian.  “We’re done hiding.  The people must see that Emric is suited for the Sea Lord’s Throne.  I will prove it to them all.”

The carriage wheeled to a stop and they all got out. 

A majestic fountain acted as the centerpiece to a rare scene of beauty.  The Plaza of Gold seemed untouched by the hurricane, though it was far more likely it was simply the first to be cleaned up.  Gathered around the base of the fountain were the remaining members of the council, with one conspicuous absence: Arias Soderheim. Additionally, a small crowd formed around the councilors, watching the meeting with curiosity.

Sebastian hopped up into the air and landed before the startled councilors with his demonic wings spread wide.  “Assembled members of the Captain’s Council, hear me!”

“Why have you summoned us here?” snapped Marilise Maeorgan, raven-haired sister of the traitorous Melkior Maeorgan.  

Sebastian snapped one wing closed, revealing Thralen and Emric, dressed in clothes more befitting nobility.  “The Law of Succession must be reinstated, for Emric Ossan-Drac is a direct descendant of the Drac bloodline!”

“Do you have proof of this?” asked Lady Elise Grosette, an attractive older woman.

“I do,” said Sebastian. He grabbed Emric roughly by the wrist and lifted his hand.  “He wears the Ring of Drac!” 

A hush fell over the crowd. The council members huddled around the boy to inspect it. 

“And I have here,” Sebastian dug out Drak Scarbelly’s sextant, “further proof of Emric’s succession, for I have here the Sextant of Drac!”

Boos immediately broke out from orcs in the crowd.  “That’s Drak Scarbelly’s!” shouted one.  “Give it back!” said another.  “The elves are afraid of orcs runnin’ Freeport!” shouted a third.

Sebastian looked around, surprised by the response.  “The elorii are on the side of the Coryani Loyalists. They are Freeport’s best defense against the Continental powers!”

“Who kidnapped the boy?” shouted someone from the crowd.

“Elves,” Beldin shouted back.  Sebastian stared daggers at him.

“Did you kill them?” shouted another orc.  “Who hired them?” shouted a human.

“Arias Soderheim,” Beldin said before Sebastian could shush him.

“If this is true, Arias must be arrested and tried for treason,” said Marilise. “We must seize his estates and banish any of his blood relatives from Freeport.”

The statement drew gasps from councilors. The orcs in the audience cheered.

Sebastian slapped an open palm to his throat. He tugged a small blood-tipped bolt out of his neck, staring at in shock.  Then he fell over.

Beldin drew his axe and whirled.  “Assassin!” he shouted.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 12b – The Council’s Decree*

Two more crossbow bolts thudded into Beldin. One of them lodged in his armor. The other struck him in the upper arm.  

“You’ll have to do better than that!” shouted Beldin.  He whirled, looking for the assassins. 

He didn’t have to look for long.  Three feminine forms, one swathed in black, one in dark brown, and the third in dark blue, all converged on him simultaneously. All of their faces were masked.

Beldin recognized one of the assassins. “Jesswin!”

The lead assassin who had fired the crossbow bolt at Sebastian made a feint with her knife, goading Beldin into making a mistake.  “Close.  We are all Jesswin.”

Marilise Maeorgan screamed for her coach.  Other council members reached for weapons.

Her two companions struck simultaneously.  Beldin was only able to block one with his shield as the other stabbed him in the arm. 

Beldin made the woman flanking his left pay for the attack.  He thwacked her hard with his shield, knocking her into the crowd.  The orc mob engulfed her.  Her flailing hand disappeared in a sea of green fists.

The second assassin back flipped past Beldin. She was making her way towards Emric.  

The dwarf turned to stop the threat. He swung his axe, sweeping the woman’s legs out from under her as she stabbed at a stunned Emric.  The blade swept past the boy, inches from his face. 

Thralen took advantage of the momentary distraction and fired a pistol at point blank range into the woman before she could rise.  She twitched once and lay still.

A cold blade pierced Beldin’s ribs.  He whirled, face to face with the first assassin.

Her eyes looked familiar.

As blood leaked out of his armor, Beldin felt his strength fading.  He grabbed her ponytail and pulled.  Her mask fell away…

“Countess D’Ambrose?” he said, shocked.  Beldin released her.

The Countess fell backwards, wheezing and pale.  With her mask removed, he could see she was ill.

“The geas…” she slid to the ground.  “Mentire forced us…”

Beldin leaned on his axe, wheezing.  “You could have fooled me.”

“The boy would…” she turned her head as the council members loomed over her.  “…be dead already…went after you…instead.”

“Mentire is dead! Who hired him to do this?” demanded Marilise.

“Arias,” she said, her eyes unfocused. “He’s got my girls…at Salon du Masque.”

Beldin pulled out a handful of potions.  He forced the first down Sebastian’s throat.

“Get up,” he said.  

The poison wore off quickly.  “Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, still groggy from the effects of blue whinnis.

“We’re visiting a brothel.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 13 – Shattered Masques*

The front double doors to the Salon du Masque were made of solid oak with metal bands reinforcing the wood, giving them a sturdy and utilitarian appearance.  Sebastian rang his chime and they opened as if they had been invited guests. 

Inside the doors was a beautiful entryway; a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and fine rugs gave the wooden floor a somewhat richly cluttered appearance.  Off to the left, a stairwell ascended to the second floor, with common areas on either side of the entrance.  It gave the impression that Salon du Masque was no mere brothel, but rather an upscale home for socialites.

Several tables and chairs were overturned, and elorii soldiers fired a volley of arrows as Sebastian entered.  The projectiles stopped a few feet before him and fell to the ground.  Beldin stepped out behind him, their roles reversed for once.

“Well, look ‘ew we ‘ave here!” came a familiar voice. “If it ain’t th’ Sea Lord o’ Freetown ‘imself!”

“Price,” said Sebastian.  “I thought you were in prison.”

Price stood up from behind one of the tables, and it was clear that things had changed since he was incarcerated.  He bore scars and marks all over his arms and face.  He had short and unruly brown hair that stuck up at all angles. And somewhere along the line, Price had lost an eye and acquired an eye patch.

“Oh, right.  Well, yah, I was afflicted wid a bad case ov incarceration, but I got better.” He swung two long clubs before him, one in each hand, striding towards Beldin.

Sebastian fired back at the elorii bowmen with closed fists, unleashing blast after blast of eldritch energy.  One of them shrieked and fell backwards out of sight. 

Beldin moved to meet Price, Windcutter at the ready. “There’s no way you’re competent enough to escape prison on your own.”

“Took a bit o’ convincing o’ the Commissioner, yew know, but ‘e got it once I stuck a shiv through ‘is throat.”  Price laughed.  

The elves fired another volley, concentrating on Sebastian.  They were spread out around the room. 

“So your own men broke you out,” stated Beldin.

“Nah, they’re much too busy getting’ revenge on th’ gangs t’ help me. Never liked ‘em much anyway.”

Beldin swung at Price with the full force of his axe.  The human easily blocked the blow with crossed clubs.

“I got out ‘cause I made a deal wid th’ devil, matter o’ fact.” Price moved his arms apart in a scissoring gesture that seemed effortless.  It hurled Beldin backwards.  “I’m a bit stronger, as yew can see.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Sebastian.  “Radius incendiaries!” Rays of flame spiraled towards Price.

The former guardsmen held up his hand and they dissipated.  “Yew might call me a new man! Lemme show yew the tricks me master taught me.”

He pointed at Sebastian and a sickening green miasma boiled towards him.  Sebastian dove through it and blasted more eldritch energy at the elves who peppered him with arrows.

Price blinked.  “That’s odd.  Yew should be screamin’ in pain right about now.”  He turned and pointed at the advancing Beldin.  

The mist engulfed the dwarf, who stumbled. “That’s more lahk it.”  He leisurely made his way over to the helpless dwarf. “Mebbe Losknek’s right, mebbe yew are comin’ around!”

“Oh, I see things differently all right,” said Sebastian. “You sold your soul for power. And now you sell your services to traitors. Algor conus!”

The blast of freezing cold washed over the remaining elorii and Price, converting the room into a glacial wasteland.  The elorii did not move from their hiding places, frozen where they crouched.

Beldin struck Price with Windcutter, shattering his left arm into bloody ice fragments.

Price’s legs gave out, cracking off beneath him.  Helpless, he lay gasping.  

Sebastian stood over Price, wings spread.  

Beldin joined him.   “Where’s Arias?”

Price laughed.  “Yew ‘ave no idea, do yew?” He spat up blood. 

“I will not ask again.” Sebastian pointed two fists at Price’s head. “Where is Arias?”

Price winked at him. “I’ll be seein’ ya soon.” With another gasp, he expired.

The sound of a woman moaning in pain on the second floor set them off in a run.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 14 – The Baths*

A favorite spot of the rich and busy, the baths at the Salon du Masque provided guests with a comfortable way to relax and relieve stress.  Large bathtubs were laid out throughout the room, kept filled with hot water for any who needed a soak.  The room was constantly filled with steam by an automatic system that ran water over hot coals.  As a result, it was muggy and clouded.

Beldin opened the door and a bell rang above him.  “Uh oh…”

A volley of arrows perforated Beldin’s shield as he ducked down just in time.  The room was completely filled with mist.  

“I’ll deal with this,” said Sebastian.  “Incendiares globus!”

"_lanc i dalaf._" Came a male elorii’s voice.

A ball of flames engulfed the room.  Several screams answered the spell’s explosion. 

"_Mathach vi geven?_" 

“That song sounds familiar…” began Beldin.  But Sebastian was too busy to talk.

“Algor conus!”

The room was covered in ice. Bodies in pain from their burns were suddenly frozen in mid-writhe, a bizarre museum of horrors encased in ice.  

They could hear someone singing, but his voice seemed to come from everywhere.  Beldin crept cautiously into the room. 

"_Nostach vi 'wilith?_" 

Beldin swung clumsily.  He yelped as a rapier pierced his flesh, easily avoiding his shield. 

“It’s Arias!” shouted Beldin. “I can’t see him!”

Sebastian snarled.  “I’ll fix that.” 

"_Máb le i nagor,_" sang Arias. 

The song allowed Sebastian to pinpoint the area.  

"_Bád gurth vi ngalad firiel,_" sang Arias. Death moved in the fading light.  

He launched eldritch energy with one fist, and suddenly Arias was visible, a rapier in one hand.  

A woman’s scream echoed from a door on the far side.  

“Who is that?” demanded Beldin with mounting dread. 

Arias had a smirk on his face.  He was about to answer when his eyes focused on an iced over window to their left.

The elorii stopped singing. “Osalian help us…” He turned and sprinted towards the door. 

Beldin whirled to look.  “What the hell was that all about?”

Out the window, visible in the distance, one of the magical cannons that defended Freeport was no longer in profile.  They were staring right down its gigantic barrel.  Energy pulsed around it, visible even miles away.

Sebastian was reaching into his cloak to draw the last charge from his wand of force.  “CANNON!” was all he got out.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 15 – Cannonfire!*

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Through the open doorway, Sebastian could make out Ilmarė.  The groans of the woman they had heard below were the exertions of childbirth.  A newborn was in her arms. 

Several elorii nursemaids stood protectively around her.  Arias burst through the door and, touching Ilmarė and her child, disappeared.  

Beldin jumped out the window.  It was a twenty-foot drop, but it was better than the alternative.

Sebastian turned the wand on himself and an invisible bubble of force surrounded him.  The elorii midwives suddenly understood what was happening.  They stared at him, helpless and resigned to their fate.

Then the cannon blast hit.  The explosion ripped through the entire second floor, incinerating everyone and everything.  

The deafening boom that marked the cannon’s discharged echoed throughout the entire city.  

Sebastian was helpless.  Although protected inside the bubble, he couldn’t leave it without exposing himself to harm.  Flaming wreckage burned all around him.

He could see Arias, Ilmarė and her child appear on the roof of a building across the street.  After ensuring Ilmarė was safe, he turned and fled, attempting to leap the gap between two buildings.  But he misjudged.

Arias fell to the street.  Sebastian could hear the sickening crunch of his legs breaking when he hit the ground.

And yet the elorii struggled to rise.  

Unfortunately for him, a crowd of angry orcs had gathered outside the brothel to await his arrest.  

“There ‘e is!” shouted the angry mob.  They converged on him like a pack of wild animals.  

Sebastian looked away.  Arias would not survive the bloody wrath of the angry orc populace. 

When the fires finally died down, Sebastian dispelled the protective shield.  He flew over to the elorii mother. 

“Ilmarė!” he was relieved to see she was okay.  Her baby squalled in her arms.  If the orcs got to her… “Are you okay?”

She was exhausted from the childbirth.  “We’ll live,” she croaked.

The baby’s crying increased as Sebastian came near.  He took a few steps back and then walked right off the rooftop.  “You’re safe now. I’ll get Beldin.”

“Not going to be safe…” she whispered, “…until we leave Freeport.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Conclusion*

Beldin and Sebastian sat at the Last Resort, nursing their drinks.  By now the other patrons knew to leave them alone, and the Brandydales had given them a private room; Sebastian was scaring the regulars.

“The guardsmen who fired the cannon at the Salon du Masque were hired by someone,” said Sebastian.  “Someone who didn’t want Arias to talk.”

“The elorii?” asked Beldin.

Sebastian shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  But if Mentire was working for the Emperor, and he was controlling Persius, he needed a contact here.  A wretch like that doesn’t make contacts easily. He was receiving his orders from a go-between.  Someone who knows Freeport well.”

The dwarf slurped from his mug. “If the Emperor makes the elorii look like the enemy, Freeport won’t ally with them.  Do we have any leads on that spy?”

”We have but one: Cunegunda.”

Beldin stared down into his ale.  “How’d you come by that name?”

Sebastian looked up from his drink.  “Do you really want to know?”

The dwarf grunted.  “From what I hear, word got out on the streets. Everyone in Freeport and their mother is looking for her.”  

In fact, a citywide manhunt had already begun. A few overzealous citizens strung up foreigners, while others organized mobs to scour the docks in search of Cunegunda’s refuge.  

“With all the chaos, the Guard is spread too thinly to locate the spy.” Sebastian’s tail flicked in agitation.  “She’s probably escaped.”

“And what of Ilmarė?”

“Safe, for now.  I left her in the care of the Sanctum, but…” Sebastian trailed off.  “I will not be returning there.”

“They threw you out.”

The dark-kin sniffed.  “I left of my own accord,” was all he said.

Beldin finished his ale.  “Now what?”

“Freeport will never ally with the elorii, so in that regard the Emperor is victorious.  But Emric is on the Sea Lord’s throne, which makes Freeport all the stronger.  We must ensure he stays safe until things settle down.”

Beldin eye his companion.  “Since when do you care so much about Freeport?”

“I have sacrificed much for Freeport.”  Sebastian sighed.  “I was not able to save Canceri.  Perhaps I can save this place.”

But Beldin wasn’t so sure.  

“Let’s go,” said Sebastian, interrupting the dwarf’s musings.  “We’re moving into our new home.”

“Where’s that?” 

“The Sea Lord’s Palace.”


----------



## talien

*Chapter 64: A City Under Siege - Introduction*

This scenario is from the adventure “Black Sails Over Freeport” by Green Ronin, adapted to the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

•	Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
•	Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
•	Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com) 
•	Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

This is it, the final battle to end all battles, the War of the Gods (sort of), and the opportunity to wrap up the campaign with a bang.  Kham’s player showed up, finally, but unfortunately Vlad couldn’t be there.

Which made sense, because Vlad would be fighting the war on behalf of Adolphos val’Tensen.  Similarly, Quintus is in the service of General Menisis.  But I didn’t want the total war on the Continent to get lost in the battle of Freeport.  Thus, the attack by the Coryani Empire spy is directly tied to the events that took place in the Continental conflict.

That said, I never played the battle interactive, For the Glory of the Empire, and have only the summary to go by.  I inserted characters and summarized as best I could. If there are inaccuracies, consider it artistic license. 

The final bad guy shouldn’t come as a surprise to those who know their Cthulhu mythology.  Swapping out Yarash was simple.  In fact, there’s a quote from the original inspiration for Yarash right in the adventure; I like to see the conclusion going back to Yarash’s roots. 

The battle was long and bloody and not without casualties.  But it was worth it.  The campaign was a fun ride and I’m grateful I had the opportunity wrap it up with all my friends.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Prologue*

“You poisoned us!” shouted Gaius Phillipus.  The legionnaire had been reinstated by the Emperor and assigned as a centurion.  He stood on his mount, shouting down the circumvallation.  

To guarantee a perfect blockade, the Emperor Calsestus val’Assante ordered the construction of an encircling set of fortifications around Enpebyn. Two miles long and twelve feet high, the fortifications were constructed in a record time of about three weeks. Wide, deep ditches flanked the fortification. The one nearest to the city was filled with water from the surrounding rivers. The fortifications were supplemented with mantraps and deep holes in front of the ditches, and regularly spaced watchtowers equipped with Coryani artillery.

Cunegunda, a Cadite, stood silently at Gaius’ side.  She was a raven-haired wisp of a thing, no taller than five feet, with pretty features and a heart-shaped face.

Staring up from the ditch was a Beltinian Hospitaler. His armor was spattered with blood and mud from the thousands wailing for his healing touch. 

“We did no such thing!”

“You switched the healing potion bandoliers with poison!” growled Gaius at the Hospitaler.  

“What kind of poison?” asked the Hospitaler.

 “They fell into a deep slumber,” said Gaius. “But that’s not the point—“

“Is it? We haven’t killed anyone.  Have you?”

“What are you getting at?”

“We know of High General Dorjan val’Mehan’s punitive expedition to the Temple of Beltine,” said the Hospitaler.  “Your men, impersonating members of the Legion of the Defiant Shield, slaughtered many defenseless priests who were tending the wounded.”

The living conditions in Enpebyn had becoming increasingly worse. With eighty thousand soldiers and the local population, too many people were crowded inside the city competing for too little food. Menisis had decided to release the women and children from the citadel, hoping to save food for the fighters and hoping that Calsestus would open a breach to let them go. But Calsestus issued orders that nothing should be done for these civilians and the women and children were left to starve in the no man's land between the city walls and the circumvallation. The Beltinian Hospitalers, struggling to remain neutral, took them in.

“Bah!” shouted Gaius. “You’ve no proof!”

Cunegunda spoke up.  “Actually, they do.”

Gaius looked down at him from his mount.  “What?  What are you talking about?”

“I found evidence that you personally led the expedition,” said Cunegunda.  “And I have provided that evidence to the Beltinians.”

Gaius drew his gladius.  “You lying dog!  I’ll gut you where you stand!”

The Hospitaler interrupted the attack with a shout. “Due to this outrage, we have officially abandoned our position of neutrality and are joining General Menisis’ forces. You can tell Emperor Calsestus that he will receive no further healing from us.”

“What?” snarled Gaius.  “It was the Cadites who convinced the High General to send the expedition.  Don’t you see that they have fooled us both?”

“Sometimes, to make a man see his enemies, his friend needs to slap him first,” said Cunegunda. “The Legion of the Watchful Hunter shall be avenged yet.”

“Traitorous dog!” Gaius swung his gladius at Cunegunda’s head, but she dissolved into shadow.

And as one, the Legions of Stalking Shadow and Sweet Sorrow shadow jumped into Enpebyn.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 1a – Continental Influence*

Sebastian woke up with a start.  Someone was in his room.

“This is all wrong!” hissed a feminine voice.  “I shouldn’t be here!”

The dark-kin roused himself from the bed, spreading his wings out before him.  “You…you look familiar.  Weren’t you Thralen’s maidservant?”

The woman glared at him.  The whites of her eyes were showing.

“You recognize me, even in complete darkness?” She pointed at Sebastian’s eyes with forked fingers. “Then I’ve no choice: Cadic take your sight!”

Sebastian screamed and clutched his eyes. “It was you!  You were the spy who directed Mentire!  You were pulling the strings on behalf of the Emperor!”

“Yes, but…” she stuttered.  “I was defecting.  This wasn’t…I’m not supposed to be here!”

Kham appeared in a flash of light. He looked surprised.  “What the hell?”

Before he could respond, Cunegunda pointed at him.  “Cadic take your mind!”

Kham fell to his knees, clutching his head.  

“Kham?” Sebastian tried to feel around him, unsure of what was going on.  “What are you doing here?

“I was…on my ship…the Divine Fury.”  He groaned.  “In battle against barbarians…tried to… switch places with my…first mate.  And ended up here!”

“The shadow-jump,” said Cunegunda.  “It must have overwhelmed the Beltinian wards protecting Enpebyn.”  She looked around.  “It caused a rip between the fabric of Arcanis and the Plane of Shadow. That’s got to be the reason I was shunted here!”

Bledin burst into the room, wearing a chain shirt, slippers, and wielding Windcutter.  “What’s going on?”

“Look out!” shouted Sebastian.

Beldin whirled just as the Cadite stabbed at him with her shortsword.  He blocked it with Windcutter.

The dwarf advanced on the slight woman.  “You’re the Censuri spy that framed Vlad!  Come to finish what you started?”

Cunegunda dropped her sword.  “You don’t understand,” she cried piteously. “I’m not supposed to be here.  This was a mistake!” 

“A mistake?” Beldin lowered his axe.  

“This is all wrong!” shouted Cunegunda again.  “This is…”  She looked down at the floor beneath her.  Pools of darkness were spreading wider and wider around her. 

The black pools sprouted white teeth that formed a circular maw over ten-feet wide.

“Run,” she whispered.  “RUN!”

With a yelp, the slanderer of Vlad, loyal Cadite, and Censuri spy, disappeared into the maw of the beast.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 1b – Continental Influence*

“_Dis is intolerable,_” echoed Zoltan’s voice in Kham’s mind.

“Shut up, Zoltan, I’ve got it under control.”

“_Under control?  Look at dem.  Your bat friend is blind, your dwarf friend is wearing bunny slippers, and a giant worm is eating dem.  Dis is what you call under control?_”

A giant, tenebrous worm had torn through the portal. It was massive, smashing its head up against the twenty-foot high ceiling.  Beldin gamely held the thing off by hacking at its maw every time it bit at him.

“_You should have listened to me, my friend, and stayed in Altheria.  De women.  De wine!  We could have had such happy days!_”

“I wasn’t planning on coming back.”  Kham felt as if he were floating over his body, observing it but not controlling it.  “But now that my friends are in trouble…”

“_You want to be de hero!  I can get on board with dat.  You seem to be having a bit of trouble, let me help you, no?_”

“We should go!” Kham shouted to his companions.  “I can get you all out of here!”

Semi-solid skeletons, dressed like pirates, slipped out of the rift.  Beldin and Sebastian were surrounded.

“No!” Sebastian shouted back.  “Emric is the Sea Lord now and we must protect him!”

“I’m not leaving,” said Beldin. 

“_They are stubborn, I admire dat!  Dese powers I have given you, you do not know how to control dem yet.  But I do.  Let me show you._”

Kham felt Zoltan’s presence in his mind with razor-sharp focus.  They concentrated…

And Kham was back on the Divine Fury. 

“What ho, Captain?” shouted his first mate.  He was on the ocean again.  The pirates were routed, their ship naught but burning wreckage.

“Have we succeeded, den?”

The first mate stared quizzically at his captain.  His accent was strange.  But then, everything about Kham was strange.  “Yes, sir.  We did find tcho-tcho barbarians among them.  It’s odd that they’re working together.”

Kham nodded.  “Yes it is.  But we don’t have time for dat.  Right now, I need three men to fire our biggest cannon.”

“Fire it at what?”

“Just do it.  Go!”

The crew scrabbled to do his bidding.  In no time, three Altherians were loading and priming a huge cannon, its maw sculpted in the shape of a dragon just like Kham’s pistols.

“_Let’s talk about dese women in your life,_” said Zoltan in Kham’s mind.  “_You seem to be having difficulty settling down.  You should pick one._”

“I don’t think now is the time,” thought Kham.

“_I disagree.  You need to find a good woman, like Black Jenny Ramsey.  Now dat was a woman…_”

“Yeah yeah, sweet as a peach, fiery as a brand, soft as silk, you talk about her all the time.”

“_You have no such woman.  What of de Countess?_”

“Countess d’Ambose? Dead.  Beldin killed her in an assassination attempt. I might have killed her myself if I caught up with her.”

“_Oh, dat’s too bad.  How about this Touldrix?_”

“The undir?  I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

“_Maybe it’s time you reconnected, eh?  Life is too short._”

“Aren’t we in the middle of trying to save my friends?”

“_Oh, yes, right…_” Zoltan turned his attention back to the events at hand. “Fire.”

“What?” asked the first mate.  “But there’s nothing to fire at.”

“You heard me!  Fire!”

The crew lit the fuse.  Zoltan focused again and they were back in the hallway across from Sebastian’s room, the cannon aimed at the giant worm’s head.

“Cover your ears!” shouted Kham.

The four ghostly pirates and the giant worm that had slipped out of the shadow rift turned as one to look down the barrel of the smoking Altherian cannon.  Then it fired, blasting a gaping wound through the worm. The cannon smashed backwards, tearing a hole through the doorway into Beldin’s room and slamming into the stone wall.

The worm let out a bloody roar and whipped around in pain.  Then it retreated into the rift.  The ghostly pirates faded away and the rift sealed.

“_Dat’s too bad,_” said Zoltan in Kham’s mind.  “_Dat Cunegunda was a looker.”_

Kham rubbed his forehead.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 1c – Continental Influence*

Quintus Aurelius val’Emman stood flanked by the rest of contubernium: Hervius Flavinius Tranio, the legionnaire sorcerer with hair that fanned out behind like a centurion’s helmet; Oppius Camelius Rusticus, the best scout in the legions; Tertius Caprenius Augustalis, the horn blower responsible for drawing the attention of the men and issuing the audible commands of the officers; and four other milites gregarious, the foot soldiers who were vital to the contubernium.  

“Hold the line!” he shouted.

The shadow creatures seethed all around them.  Thousands of shadow creatures had poured through the rift, attacking both sides indiscriminately.  They were no longer fighting for honor; they were fighting for their lives.

Hervius unleashed a blast of force, tearing through a group of the shadow beings.  Tertius blew his horn, keeping their spirits high.  

Quintus held up his signum.  “In the name of Illir, go back to the pits from whence you came!”

Blinding light speared from the signum into the roiling mass of shadow beings.  They disintegrated before it like so many seeds in a strong wind. 

And still they came.  “There’s too many!” Oppius’ arrows had little effect on the incorporeal things.

“Hold the line!” commanded Quintus again.  

“Look!’ said Tertius.

A roiling mass of greenish-white spearmen marched forward, heading straight for the shadow portal.

“Their standard,” said Oppius, “but that’s impossible, that legion is long dead!”

“You are correct,” said Quintus, leaning on his signum.  “Those are the ghosts of the Doom of Chendo legion.”

The disciplined legion, quite capable of affecting the shadow things, struck hard.  It took a moment for the undisciplined shadow creatures to realize the true nature of the threat.  They withdrew from conflict with the living beings on both Rebel and Loyalist lines, concentrating their efforts on the Doom of Chendo.  

But it was too late.  The legion’s discipline, coupled with their ability to harm the enemy, formed a wedge and sliced right through the heart of shadow army.  They made it through to the center, losing men every step of the way. 

“They’re going to make it!” shouted Hervius.

They entered the portal with a flash.  The shadow creatures disappeared as abruptly as they came.

“They did it!” shouted Quintus.  A cheer went up from both sides, but it was short lived.

Two looming shadows floating over Quintus’ contubernium.  Unlike the things they had just fought, it was the shadow cast by something very large in the sky.

“Now what?” muttered Oppius.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 2 – We Are Under Attack!*

Kham awakened from his slumber to the sounds of a deckhand screaming out in alarm.  Rushing topside, he saw a fleet of barbarian longships moving rapidly through the light mist.  

Kham called to his first mate.  “How many?”

“Ten, sir, at least, but there are probably more.”

“They’re trying to block off the harbor.  We need to open it up so the other ships can get out.  Ready the cannons!”

“Readying the cannons!”

Kham turned. “Keep firing, clear that path!  I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going sir?

“To warn the others.”  He concentrated…

And he was back in the Sea Lord’s Palace. Sebastian and Beldin had just finished arming themselves.

“So you’ve heard?” asked Kham.

“About the orcs?” Beldin fired back.

“Wait, what?”

“The orcs.  Over five hundred of them are rioting.  They’re on their way to the Fortress of Justice to protest Scarbelly’s imprisonment.”

“No, not that. Barbarian ships are in the harbor!  The Divine Fury is engaging them but we’ve got to let the others know.”

Beldin picked up Windcutter. “I’ll deal with the orcs.”

“Deal with greenbacks?” Kham snorted.  “Good luck with that.”

“With any luck, we can make them see reason,” said Beldin. He stumped out the door. 

Kham turned to Sebastian. “What about you?

The dark kin unfolded his wings with a flourish.  “I’m going to go fire Freeport’s siege cannons. On the enemy, for once.”

And with that he flew out of the entrance to the Sea Lord’s Palace.

“_Dey’ve got style,_” said Zoltan in Kham’s head.  “_I’ll give dem that!_”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 3a – Barbarians at the Gate*

A battered, bloody member of the watched rushed towards Beldin, collapsing into his arms. 

“We are under attack!”  He coughed.  “The barbarians are at Drac’s gate.  We closed the gate in time, but they must have planted soldiers within the city.”  He spat up blood.  “They surprised us!  Commander Stern…” he wheezed, “cannot hold out for long.  That gate must remain closed.  Please, help us…”

The man let out a long, rattling cough and died.

Beldin gently laid the man down on the ground and stumped towards Drac’s gate.

The scene at the gate was bloody.  Two wounded Guardsmen stood amidst their comrades’ dead bodies and attempted to defend the inside of the gate from ten attackers.  They were doing their best to keep themselves between the barbarians and the mechanisms that would raise the portcullis and open the wooden gates, but they would not last much longer on their own.

One of the Guardsmen went down as Beldin reached the gate. 

“Keep that gate closed!” shouted Commander Stern, the lone guardsmen left. He blocked an axe swing with his shield.

One barbarian began churning the winch to open the gates.  

Beldin hacked through one of the barbarians, who didn’t see him coming.  He went down flailing.

Two more barbarians attacked the dwarf.  Beldin was filled with an almost supernatural rage.  He blocked an axe blow from one of the barbarians with his shield and disemboweled the other with Windcutter.

The gate opened a little more.

Beldin slammed his shield into another barbarian.  Teeth filed to sharp points snapped at him.  “Tcho-tchos?” shouted Beldin in surprised.

Tcho-tchos shouldn’t have been in the city, much less anywhere near Freeport. Something more sinister was afoot than a simple invasion.

Commander Stern skewered one of the barbarians, but an axe blow glanced off his armor, wounding him.  He fell back against the gate. The gate opened wide.  Only the portcullis stopped a screaming horde of hundreds of barbarians from bursting into Freeport.

Beldin swept low, chopping the legs out from two barbarians.  He kept moving as the remaining three barbarians began winching the portcullis up, inch by inch.

All three turned to face him.  Beldin slammed another barbarian out of the way with his shield and headbutted the second.  Before the third could let go of the winch, he hacked right through the man’s arms with Windcutter.  With a howl and a spray of blood, the man fell backwards and the portcullis slammed back to the ground.

Stern was nearly dragged through the openings in the portcullis by the barbarians.  Some of them ordered their companions away from the gate.

“We’ve got to get to the Fortress of Justice!” shouted Beldin.  He helped the man to his feet.  “Can you walk?”

Commander Stern was pale but mobile.  “I think so.”

“Good,” said Beldin. “Let’s go before they reach for their bows.”  

“Why the Fortress of Justice?” asked the Commander.

“I need you to issue a pardon.”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 3b – Barbarians at the Gate*

Elabac stood with his comrades, surrounded by bodyguards, at the Forges.  

“We are to defend this forge…with our very lives!” wheezed Elabac. “Do not…falter!”

The dwarves stood stoically, waraxes and warhammers clenched in their hands, visors low, shields before them.  

The enemy’s numbers were vast.  The Legion of Unsettled Quietus, a Nerothian legion, moved in lock step.  But for the clanking of armor and the rustling of arms, they made not a sound.

“Undead,” whispered one of Elabac’s young apprentices.

“How can we withstand such an army, Master Elabac?” The young one’s beard wasn’t very long, less than a foot.  “They are so many and we are so few!”

Elabac patted the young dwarf on the shoulder.  “Have…faith.”

The undead legion marched closer.  Red sparks of hate glittered in their eye sockets.  They lowered their spears and continued to march forward.

“Steady…” said Elabac.

They were a few hundred yards away.

“Steady…” 

A few hundred feet away.

“Steady…”

The soldiers at the front of the legion’s attack suddenly convulsed and disappeared in bursts of flame.

The dwarves cheered.  

More of the legion, single-minded in their attack, continued forward.  And row after row exploded in fire.

“The wards…held,” sighed Elabac in relief.

“It’s a shame Beldin was not here to witness this,” said the young apprentice.  “He would have been pleased.”

“Beldin…is not coming…with us,” Elabac said sadly.

The apprentice blinked at his elder.  “Where are we going after this battle, Master Elabac?”

“Home.”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 4a – Get Them Guns Blazin’!*

“Airships!” shouted Quintus.  

The Judgment of Nier and the Inferno hovered over Enpebyn, bristling with Altherian weaponry.  The cannons slowly winched into place.

“We can’t stop that kind of firepower,” said Tertius, slowly lowering his horn from his lips. 

The cannons began blasting away, tearing huge chunks of masonry off of Enpebyn’s walls.  Guards flailed like rag dolls off the sides of the fortifications, screaming as they went.

“Hervius!” ordered Quintus.  “I ignited blastpowder once.  Can your magic do the same?”

Hervius shot Quintus an odd smile.  “Most certainly.  But I would need time.”

“Can you get us up there?”

“Some of us,” said Hervius.  “But we will be spotted.”

“I can conceal us,” said Tertius.  “You just focus on getting us close to that ship.”

Quintus nodded to Tertius.  “Let’s do it.”

Tertius whispered a spell.  Nothing happened.

Oppius frowned.  “So much for that…”

“It worked,” said Tertius.  “Just stay within ten paces of me.”

“Quintus, Oppius, Tertius,” said Hervius. “Hold onto my cloak.” He was watching the Inferno. “We’re going to have to do two quick hops.  I can’t reach the distance from here.”

“Wait,” said Oppius.  “Two quick hops?  Where’s the first hop to?”

Hervius pointed at a crenellation along Enpebyn’s wall right in front of the Inferno. The floating Altherian gunship would most certainly blast it to oblivion in a matter of seconds. “There: Mundai ianua!”

Suddenly they were facing the looming airship, staring down its bristling cannons.  The cannons fired in rapid succession, a deafening blast.

“Mundai ianua!”

And they were on the deck of the Inferno. 

“Sarish’s ass!” hissed Oppius.  “That was close!”

Tertius shushed him. The crew was too busy manning the cannons to take notice, and their dialogue went unheard over the deafening explosions of the cannons firing.

As one, they moved forward, shields at the ready, weapons raised.  The captain was a redhead with a familiar bearing.

“Attalus?” Quintus whispered in horror.  “But…”

Attalus turned just as Oppius closed the distance between them. Before he could say a word, Oppius slit his throat.

“Can you turn the corpse invisible?” asked Quintus. 

Tertius shook his head.  “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then we have a problem.” Quintus took a deep breath.  “Hervius, find the blackpowder cache and destroy it.  Tertius, go with him.”

Oppius coughed.  “I can’t help but notice you didn’t mention me.”

Tertius and Hervius padded off down into the hold. 

Quintus gave him a grim smile.  “You’re staying with me.” He turned, addressing the rest of the crew whose backs were to their captain.  “I, QUINTUS AURELIUS VAL’EMMAN, CLAIM THIS SHIP IN THE NAME OF GENERAL MENISIS!”

The crew all turned to look in shock.  They drew their weapons. 

Oppius slapped his forehead.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 4b – Get Them Guns Blazin’!*

Sebastian flew over Freeport.  He could see barbarians closing in from everywhere.  Shrill war cries and screams came from the outskirts of Drac’s End.  Citizens fled in panic.  He could also make out the orc mob, just leaving the Field of Honor and making its way toward the Eastern Gate of the Old City.  

Sebastian moved on.  His destination was one of the many towers facing the harbor, each armed with a Fihali cannon.  In fitting pirate fashion, Freeport had even stolen its own defenses.

The towers stood about fifty feet high.  Bodies lay scattered around the gun closest to the harbor.  Flaming wreckage from one of the barbarian ships indicated they had gotten one good shot off, but the tower itself was on fire.  Sebastian guessed a misfire; Fihali weapons were never meant for human hands.

Sebastian landed.  He had the opportunity to inspect fihali technology when he was aboard their ship.  That information served him well.  To fire, the cannons required life force and magical energy.  He threw an enchanted dagger down the barrel, satisfying the first requirement.

But the second was not so easy. Strange hand impressions were at the base, suited for a clawed fihali.  Sebastian put his hands in the depressions…

And screamed as the cannon tore magic out of him by sheer force.  It felt as if his eyeballs and been strained through his fingertips.  The results were spectacular: The gun roared and with a huge kick, belched forth a massive fireball the likes of which he had never seen.  The ensuing fireball sailed over the harbor.

It was enough to make the entire city pause.  Barbarians and Freeporters looked up in awe as the fireball struck the center of the barbarian fleet, obliterating one ship and setting fire to two others.  

Sebastian struggled to rouse himself.  There was one more cannon facing the harbor.  The barbarians began to row faster, struggling to get out of the way.

He half-limped off the tower and caught an updraft with his wings, gliding over to the remaining tower.

Thunder boomed around him.  A blast of lightning struck from the tip of a tcho-tcho shaman’s rattle, sizzling through Sebastian.  He fell like a moth that flew too close to the flame.

The dark-kin came to at the last second.  He spread his wings, stopping his fall so that he landed in a crouch.

“Tcho-tchos!” snarled Sebastian.  “I hate tcho-tchos.”  He jumped into the air and took wing again, vowing not to underestimate his opponents this time.

As Sebastian closed, he could make out the shaman and his bodyguards.  It was the same shaman they had seen in the village near Nyambe.  The tcho-tchos had traveled a long way.  

“Algor conus!”  Sebastian shouted. Frost covered the shaman even as he struggled to get the gun to work.  A few blasts of eldritch energy finished the job.  

Corpses of the gun’s crew were covered by frozen bodies of tcho-tchos.  Sebastian fed another magical item of power, a ring, down the barrel.  He once again put his hands in the depression, trembling at the thought of the pain he would endure.

As the gun fired, he felt his own life force sucked from his body. The cannon shuddered, the recoil of a powerful magical blast.  The blast struck its target, setting barbarian longships ablaze.  The remaining vessels turned and began fleeing the harbor. 

Exhausted, Sebastian slumped to the ground.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 4c – Get Them Guns Blazin’!*

Oppius stabbed one of the Inferno’s crew.  “Do we have a plan to get off this ship or was this a suicide mission?”

Quintus skewered two men with his longspear.  “Would it matter to you either way?”

“Not really,” said Oppius.  “I was just curious if I was throwing my life away on the deck of this stupid ship.”

“Get down!” shouted Hervius from behind them.

They knew better than to ignore the sorcerer’s command.  Lightning streaked over their heads, frying several of the advancing crewmembers.  But more were coming.

“It’s done!” shouted Hervius.  “But I used up too much energy…”

“What?” asked Oppius.  “What does that mean?”

“It means I only have enough energy to perform one hop,” said Hervius, his features grim.  “And there is no platform within distance for us to relocate.”

“Yes there is,” said Quintus.  He pointed at the other airship, which was a few hundred feet away.

“That’ll do,” said Hervius.  “Mundai ianua!”

They were suddenly in the hold of the Judgment of Nier. 

A deafening explosion from the other ship caused the few crewmembers down below to run upstairs, ignoring the legionnaires who had just appeared in the far corner of the hold. 

“Great,” said Oppius.  “You just teleported us into the holding cell of the enemy.”

In the cell next to them was…

“Attalus?” said Quintus.  “We just killed you.”

Attalus val’Virdan was in bad shape, slumped on the floor, with a bloody nose and black eyes.  The crew had taken their frustrations out on him.  “Doppelganger,” he coughed.  “Ever since…the Battle of Semar.”

Tertius waved his hand over the lock to their cell and it opened.  “We have to get out of here.”

“And do what, exactly?” asked Oppius.  “Jump?”

Quintus gritted his teeth.  “We have to land this ship.  Hervius?”

Hervius shook his great maned head.  “I’ve no more energy left.”

“Tertius?” 

The horn blower bit his lip.  “Not even enough to create a spark.”

“Then we’re screwed,” said Oppius.  He drew both of his gladiuses.  “I’m not going down without a fight.”

“There may be another way,” said Quintus. He pulled an amulet from out if his armor.  It was the Mentagi.

“Attalus,” said Quintus.  “You are val’Virdan.  My bloodline is not nearly as pure as yours.  Grasp this and remember your true heritage.”

Attalus grasped the Mentagi just as the crew above deck returned below to their duties.  The first to discover their presence died with a warning still in his throat at Oppius’ gladius.  The second died in the same fashion a second afterward.

But there were too many even for Oppius.  A startled cry above them warned of intruders.

“Shield Attalus!” ordered Quintus.  Sparkling motes of light wafted from the Mentagi crystal, engulfing Attalus. 

The legionnaires joined in a protective huddle, shields at the ready, in front of the holding cell.  The Judgment of Nier’s crew crept cautiously down the steps to investigate. Gaius Phillipus was the captain.

“Give up, Quintus,” said Gaius with a smirk.  “You’re surrounded.”

Light pulsed from within the shield wall and then faded.  Quintus slowly stepped out, lowering his shield and spear to the ground. 

“I, QUINTUS AURELIUS VAL’EMMAN, CLAIM THIS SHIP IN THE NAME OF GENERAL MENISIS!” His speech finished, Quintus folded his arms. 

There was a shocked pause.  Then the crew burst out into laughter. 

“That’s very funny,” said Gaius.  “Fighting to the end, is it?  Then I will give you an honorable death.” He drew his gladius and stalked towards Quintus.  

The gap in the shield formation burst forth a sizzling gout of flames.  The blast disintegrated Gaius, blasted through the three men behind him, and tore through the hull of the ship.  

The shield wall separated, and the reborn Attalus val’Emman stood wreathed in flames.

“As the new captain of the Judgment of Nier,” Quintus shouted, “I order you to land this ship in Enpebyn!”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 5 – Free Drak!*

Beldin stood at the entrance to the Fortress of Justice, along with Commander Stern.  With a barked command, the guards let them in.

Inside, two hundred and fifty citizens, mainly women and children, huddled together in the training area.

“Who’s in charge here?” demanded Commander Stern.

“I’m Sergeant Lassiter,” said a grizzled guardsman.  With the death of Commissioner Williams at the hands of Price Rurbach, it had fallen to Lassiter to lead the Fortress until a suitable replacement could be found. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You’ve got to let Drak go,” said Beldin.  “Right now.”

“Are you mad?  He’s a criminal!”

“He’s only guilty of wanting to be Sea Lord,” said Beldin.  “And I can think of several other people who you should be arresting if that’s the case.”

“There are orcs on their way here,” said Stern more urgently.  “And they’re going to storm these gates if we don’t do something.”

“Fine, fine,” said Lassiter.  “But this is on your head.”

They jogged over to the Tombs, where only a solitary jailer and two guards were on watch.  

“Open Drak’s cell,” snapped Lassiter.  “We’re letting him out.”

“But sir!”

“Now, private!”

The guard complied. Drak Scarbelly hobbled out of his cell.

“Well, well, well, if tis’ not me old friend, Beldin Soulforge.” The orc pirate smiled with a mouthful of yellow teeth. “And what be th’ problem t’day?”

“Barbarians are attacking the city,” said Beldin. 

Drak nodded.  “So I heard.  This all coulda been avoided if ye just gave me th’ sextant.  Instead o’ trying to pass it off as evidence o’ that human brat’s lineage.”

“You’re not going to have a Freeport to rule over at this rate,” said Beldin.

“Give me th’ sextant, then.”

“I don’t have it,” said Beldin.

“Then I guess ye’ve got bigger problems.”

Beldin huffed.  “If you don’t help us, humans AND orcs will die.  All of us!  This is Freeport’s last chance!”

Scarbelly looked him up and down with his good eye.  “Then I’ll make ye a compromise.  I want a guaranteed seat on th’ Council.”

“What?” said Lassiter.  “You can’t possibly be considering…”

Beldin put one hand up.  “We need to consider everything right now.”

“That’s madness,” said Stern. “From criminal to Councilman? The citizens of Freeport will never stand for it.”

“Citizens?” asked Drak.  “There be a whole horde o’ them outside yer gates, and I don’t mean th’ barbarians.  Treat th’ orcs like decent folk and ye’d be surprised what ye get back.” He turned back to Beldin.  “Swear on Sarish and I’ll see what I can do.”

Beldin stroked his beard, deep in thought.

“Ye don’t exactly have a lot o’ time here,” said Drak impatiently.

Beldin nodded.  “It is done then.  I swear on Sarish that I will see that you get on the Council.” He cut his palm with a knife and Drak did likewise.  They shook on it.

“Lead me t’ the top o’ the tower,” ordered Drak.

When they arrived with Drak at the gates to the Fortress of Justice, a sea of orcs had amassed outside, chanting his name and demanding Drak’s freedom. 

Fires burned in many places, but the amber glow of the torch-wielding orcs was far more ominous.  As Drak stepped onto the parapet overlooking his brethren, a ferocious roaring cheer filled the air: DRAK! DRAK! DRAK!

For a moment, Drak stood still, soaking up the sound of his people as if he was drawing energy from them.  Raising his hands to quiet them, he began to speak.  In the distance, the barbarian forces could be seen making their way towards the fortress.

“Our time has come, brothers!  Tonight, we can show all th’ people o’ Freeport that we truly belong.  We are not animals or only jackasses t’ carry their cargo!  You came here to set me free, but it be these people ye see beside me that helped me to see what freedom truly be.  The city we all call home is under attack.  It’s time for us t’ prove that we want to be citizens of Freeport.  We will show the whole world the strength and depth of orc honor.  Come with me now, brothers!  Gnash yer teeth and pound these invaders.  Death to the barbarians.  Death to the enemies of Freeport.  Honor for the orcs!”

A roaring cheer went up from the orcs as Drak ended his speech.  He turned to Beldin.  “Come, me friends.  It be time for us t’ bash skulls.  Let’s meet ‘em head on!”  Drak quickly moved down to the flight of stairs, readying his greataxe for the fighting to come.

“Finally,” grinned Beldin, right behind him, “I get to really bust some heads!”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 6a – The Battle Begins*

Quintus stood at the side of General Menisis val’Tensen and Roderick val’Tensen, in a secret meeting between the lines of war.  On the other side of the fire stood Adolphos val’Tensen, Lady Teodora val’Borda, and Vlad Martell.  Between them stood Divelos Norvitecus, senior monk of the Blades of Hurrian.

“I have gathered you here to offer Precision to he who most deserves it,” said Divelos. “During this time of war, it was prophesized that the blade would be used by a val’Tensen.  As per Hurrian’s will, I have brought it with me, here, to decide who shall wield it.”  He held the sword before him in its scabbard, a delicately as a mother putting her baby to bed. 

Vlad and Quintus exchanged uncomfortable glances.  It was clear they were on opposite sides.

After a moment, Menisis spoke up.  “I cannot accept this blade.  Although my blood is pure, it is not mine to claim.  And that is why I brought my Commander, Roderick.” He stepped back, bowing his head in deference to Roderick.  “It is yours if you wish it.”

Divelos turned to face Roderick. 

Roderick swallowed hard.  His father’s gaze was cold; he betrayed no hint of emotion.  Menisis’ choice of commanders was its own psychological victory. 

“I…I cannot accept this.  I will not.”

Menisis nodded but did not look upset.  He had expected this.

“Then I offer it to you, Adolphos val’Tensen.“ Menisis offered the blade to Adolphos.  “On the condition that you quit the field of battle and return home with your troops.”

Divelos addressed Adolphos.  “Do you accept the seventh blade of Dar val’Assante on these terms?”

“I do,” snarled Adolphos.  He jabbed a thumb towards himself.  “But not on Menisis’ terms. It is I who am the rightful master of all val’Tensen.”   He nodded to Vlad, who took the blade from Divelos and handed it to his liege.

Adolphos pulled the sword of the scabbard enough so that the blade reflected firelight in Menisis’ face.  “I’ll see you on the battlefield, and then we can determine whom has the right to give terms to whom.” 

Adolphos marched away.  Vlad spared one backwards glance and followed him. 

Menisis sighed.  “That went well.”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 6b – The Battle Begins*

After repulsing the attack on Freeport, the Captain’s Council demanded revenge.  Emric Ossan-Drac, in his new role as Sea Lord, made his first declaration an act of war.  Without delay, Freeport’s fleet set sail after the barbarians to hunt them down and punish them for daring to attack Freeport.  

Admiral Rankin took charge of the situation, gathering a fleet of over fifty ships in just two hours.  Captains Gordon, Roberts, Torian, and Varellion from the Council accompanied the fleet.  Drak Scarbelly pledged two orc ships for the effort, including his own, the Bloody Vengeance.

Kham stood on the deck of his ship, the Divine Fury. The fastest of the fleet, they came upon the barbarian longships near sunset.

As dusk approached, a light fog spread out over the sea, reducing visibility.  Through the vapor, the deep red disc of the sun hung low on the horizon.  A half mile out, at the limit of vision through the haze, was the barbarian fleet.  They began to turn to do battle.

“They are brave to meet their end in this way,” said Beldin.  “We greatly outnumber them.”

“The seas will overflow with blood this night,” said Sebastian.

Sebastian took to the air.  Beldin simply walked off the side of the deck.  Held aloft by Cho Sun’s ring, he kept walking straight towards one of the longships. 

“Prepare cannons!” shouted Kham.

“Preparing cannons!” responded his first mate. When they were ready, the first mate shouted.  “Cannons ready!”

Sebastian’s tiny form was visible in the distance, raining flames down upon one of the ships. Beldin was sinking a longship with Cho Sun’s ring, a whirlpool churning beneath it.

“Fire!”

“Fire!” repeated the first mate.

The fusillade of cannonfire tore through another one of the longships.  Against long-range fire, the barbarians were helpless. It was only a matter of time before they paid the ultimate price for their folly.  

Sebastian and Beldin returned.  “They must have been desperate indeed,” said Sebastian. “Victory is at hand.”

”Ships ahoy!” shouted the first mate.  

Kham scanned the horizon, desperately looking for the new threat.  At last he saw them.  Moving quickly toward the Freeport ships was another fleet.  

“Elorii warships,” said Kham.  He recognized the sleek and fast ships.  

“Reinforcements,” said Sebastian.  “Finally, the orcs will see that the elorii are not their…” he looked up “…enemies.”

The sun, having risen in the morning sky, went out.

“ARROWS!” shouted Sebastian.  “Get behind me!” 

Thousands of arrows had been launched from the ships with perfect aim.  They flew in a volley so thick that the sun itself was obscured.

The dark-kin spread his wings.  “Incendiares globus!”

The fireball tore through the arrows, but it only served to turn them into flaming projectiles.  Kham and Beldin, behind Sebastian, were protected from the volley as the arrows bounced off an invisible field.  But all around them came shouts of agony and surprise.  Not all of Kham’s crew was so lucky.

The other Freeport ships were caught by surprise.  They wheeled about in the chaos, struggling to mount a counterattack. 

“Reload cannons!”

Kham’s first mate was down, incapable of relaying commands.  The Altherians were well disciplined, however, and jumped to do his bidding.

“Fire!”

The cannons fired again, tearing one of the graceful elven ships apart.  

“If we can take out their lead ship, we may have a chance,” said Sebastian.  

Kham pointed.  “Head for that ship!” 

“I’ll take care of the ship,” said Beldin.  “You take care of the captain.” The dwarf walked off the deck and this time he didn’t surface.  

As the ships closed, exchanging volleys of arrows and shot, Kham recognized the captain.  “Sevestia,” he whispered.  “And that’s her father, Xerxes!”

Sebastian flew into the air.  “I’ll take out the wizard...”  Dodging arrows, the dark-kin strafed the ship with flames, only to suddenly veer off.  A shimmering blade was in pursuit. 

An arrow whistled through the air and struck Kham in the thigh. 

He swore.  “Who shot that?”

Reaching for his spyglass, Kham focused on Sevestia.  She had struck a nearly fatal blow despite the distance between them.  

“Two can play that game.” Kham drew his pistol and took careful aim. His eyes flashed for a moment.

An explosion of crystals blasted from the pistol, tearing into the elorii captain.  She shrieked and fell down.  On the deck near Sevestia, her father turned in dismay.

“Take out the wizard!” Kham shouted to Sebastian as he flapped by.

“He’s too powerful!” Sebastian ducked as the glowing sword nearly decapitated him in midair.  

Kham sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll handle it.”  He focused and disappeared from the deck of the Divine Fury.

He reappeared seconds later in front of Sevestia’s corpse.  The damage his crystals had inflicted on the woman was terrible indeed; her flesh was shredded and pulpy, and bones rent from her skin at odd angles.

Xerxes, towering over him, prepared to cast a spell. 

“You see your daughter here?” snarled Kham.  “She’s only dead.  But I’ll be sure you never see her again.”

He concentrated and flashed out, reappearing in the hold of the Divine Fury along with Sevestia’s corpse.

Xerxes’ howl of rage was audible from below decks.

Kham gently lowered the corpse of Sevestia to the ground.  “Well, that got his attention.”

A startled crewman looked from the corpse to Kham. 

“Put her in a coffin.  We’ll bury her at sea.  But not now.” 

Kham concentrated again and flashed into existence on the top deck.  

The lead ship of the elven armada was turning towards the Divine Fury.  

“I think he means to ram us,” said Kham with a smirk.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 6c – The Battle Begins*

Enzo Ularaboo did not stand out amongst the crew on the barbarian longship, covered in skins and gaunt as a scarecrow.  While most of the warriors stood head and shoulders above him, Enzo kept pace with his drum, beating a hypnotic rhythm that set the oars of the ship in motion.  It was appropriate, he thought, given the task ahead of him.

Until the arrival of the elorii ships, the skohiir barbarians were filled with a desperate hope that they might escape.  But Freeport was stubborn, and its armada’s galleons much faster than the longhships.  The tcho-tchos who led the attack were non-plussed.  Like Enzo, this was all part of the plan.

One of the tcho-tchos nodded to Enzo, smiling a mouth full of filed teeth.  Enzo nodded back.  That was the signal.

Enzo stopped drumming and lifted the horn of summoning, a weapon of immense power that he had spent every waking hour searching for since he fled Freeport that fateful day, hands behind his back and a bag over his head.  Enzo was sure those fools who did that to him were out there.  They would pay.  They would all pay.

The tcho-tchos put down their oars and looked at him expectantly.  Enzo’s chest swelled with pride; he had never had so many men look at him with such awe, even if they were short cannibalistic men. 

Enzo blew the horn. Once, twice, three times. 

Its three deep calls drowned out the sounds of battle.  Time seemed to stop as all the combatants looked around them, unsettled by the thunderous noise.  

The sea began to roil and splash violently.  

“Rise!” shouted Enzo.  “Rise Son of Leviathan, and free your master from R’lyeh’s tomb!”

A tall, dark tower of stone emerged from the seaweed-laden water.  It spiked through the water and rose toward the sky, breaking apart Xerxes’ ship as it did so.

As the tower completed its rise to the surface, there was a loud splash, followed by a hideous, low-pitched bellow.  They all turned to find the source.

It was a creature thought only a sailor’s nightmare or a bedtime story to scare young children. Impossibly huge, its gaping maw and deadly tentacles effortlessly destroyed a Freeport ship.  Its great red eye turned towards the Divine Fury.  

Enzo was ecstatic.  It was finally happening, the return of Leviathan.  Where the King in Yellow had abandoned him, Leviathan embraced him with dreams and hints and signs.  And now, now he was his master’s greatest servant, achieving what none before him had ever succeeded in doing: summoning a god.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 6d – The Battle Begins*

Quintus’ contubernium charged forward, following Roderick val’Tensen’s attack to engage the forces of his father, Adolphos val’Tensen.  And just as he feared, Vlad was leading a canton in his direction.

The two forces collided on the battlefield with a clash of steel. The Milandisian cantons presented a thicket of polearms to the longspears of Quintus’ forces.  The longer reach sliced through shields and pierced shoulders. Men screamed and cursed, but they pressed forward.  

Then they were face to face.  Quintus lowered his shield and drew his gladius, only to see Vlad draw Grungronazharr. 

“Vlad!”

“Quintus!”

They locked blades halfheartedly.  

“You’re fighting for the wrong side!” said Quintus.  “Why are you following Adolphos?”

“Me?” Vlad struggled to push him back.  Quintus was stronger than he remembered. “I thought you were loyal to the Emperor?”

“The Emperor is mad!”  

“Menisis invaded our lands,” said Vlad, gritting his teeth.  “You are siding with a conqueror.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” shouted Quintus.  “But I will if I must!”

“Likewise,” said Vlad.  They shoved off, disengaging.

Vlad pointed and a blast of flames extended from his finger.  Quintus muttered a prayer to Illiir that absorbed the attack.

Around them, their men engaged in a bloody conflict, parrying and striking, with neither side gaining the upper hand.

Adolphos and Roderick met in single combat.  After an exchange of ferocious blows, Precision went flying out of Adolphos’ hands. 

Adolphos fell to his knees.  “Do it!  What are you waiting for?” he snarled up at his son.

Roderick hesitated, blade raised. “I can’t!” he sobbed, lowering his blade.  “You’re still my father!”

Quintus clenched one fist and it glowed with holy flame.  He pointed it at Vlad.

The Milandisian held Grungronazharr high and the flames washed harmlessly over him.

The two stood panting before each other, unsure how to proceed.  

“You’ve gained new powers since last we met,” said Quintus. “I’m impressed.”

“And your prayers are more powerful than I remember,” said Vlad.  

They lifted their weapons to strike again when a tremendous explosion obliterated much of Enpebyn.  The blast knocked armies on both sides flat.

Enpebyn’s walls collapsed from the concussive force.  Roderick shoved Adolphos aside at the last minute, pinned from the neck down by rubble.

Adolphos picked up Precision.  He stalked over to Roderick.  “You saved my life.  Let me repay you with a quick death.”

“Father…” groaned Roderick.  

Adolphos lifted Precision over his head to strike a killing blow, but hesitated as if the sword was held fast in the air.  

“What?”

Precision burst into flames, engulfing Adolphos’ hands.  He screamed and released the weapon, fleeing the field of battle altogether.  

Vlad came up first, sputtering from the dust stirred by the explosion.  “What in the hell was that?”

Quintus got to one knee.  “An explosion.  Blast powder.  It must have been buried beneath Enpebyn…”

The rain started. Some of it was soot and rubble. Some of it was body parts.

“Do you see what the Emperor is willing to do?” asked Quintus.  “Do you see what folly it is to follow him?”

“For the last time, I’m loyal to my liege, Duke Adolphos val’Tensen,” said Vlad.  “I’m following orders just like…” he trailed off, looking past Quintus’ shoulder.  “…you.”

Quintus turned around.  Out of the hole teemed thousands of ant-like creatures.  But they were human-sized and humanoid, scrabbling and darting to and fro with pincers and claws. 

“Oh no, that can’t be,” said Quintus.

“Il’Huan!’ said Vlad.  “They’ve been breeding!”

Quintus picked up his spear again.  “Back to back! Back to back!  We must hold together if we are to survive this day!”

Taking Quintus lead, Vlad shouted to his men.  “Defend the Coryani!  It’s our only chance!”

The Coryani Rebels created a shield formation and the polearms of the Milandisian canton formed a bristling defense as the il’Huan swarmed into Rebel and Loyalist army alike. 

Huddled at the front, Vlad grinned at his old friend. “Did I mention I’m glad to see you?”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 7a – The Return of Leviathan*

Another ship fell to the mighty sea creature, crushed by its many tentacles.  The hideous beast’s maw scooped up the survivors and swallowed them whole. As it did so, its eyes crackled with a dark blue energy.  Suddenly, a beam burst forth like a lightning bolt toward the tower in the middle of the sea.  The tomb of Leviathan absorbed the beam and glowed with a dark blue light.

Kham looked down at the Leviathan Pistol at his belt.  It glowed with the same dark blue light.

“Uh…”

“I see it,” said Sebastian.  He was holding the Leviathan Bell and Sextant.

“Me too,” said Beldin, who held the Leviathan Hook and Spyglass.  “This can’t be good.”

A powerful bolt of energy left the kraken and shot towards the tower, followed by a deafening thunderclap.  The tower began shrinking, collapsing in on itself, as the energy surrounding it grew brighter.  Suddenly, the Leviathan artifacts were ripped from their grasp.  The Pistol, Bell, Hook, and Spyglas floated in the air toward the tower.

“This is bad,” said Kham. “Very bad.”

The tower disappeared, replaced by a ball of dark blue energy about twenty feet across.  The ball exploded outward with a blinding flash of light.  In its place was a grotesque creature from some twisted nightmare.  

Leviathan was an insane amalgamation of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful. A mountain walked or stumbled. The thing of idols, the green, sticky spawn of the stars, had awaked to claim his own. The stars were right again, and what an age-old cult had failed to do by design, a band of adventurers had done by accident. After vigintillions of years great Leviathan was loose again, and ravening for delight. 

There was a glowing mark upon its forehead, five stars over a tentacled skull.  The mark of the Full-Fathom Five.

Each of the five artifacts was absorbed into one of the stars on Leviathan’s forehead, and the device glowed with a dark blue light.  Then, in a booming voice, the thing telepathically transmitted: COME BEFORE ME NOW.

Ghostlike forms took shape in front of the creature at his command.  

“The Full-Fathom Five!” shouted Beldin.

Zoltan’s soul was ripped out of Kham, hurling him up into the air in agony before dashing him once more onto the deck of the Divine Fury. He lay still, unconscious, but none could spare him a glance.

An expression of joy crossed each of their ghostly countenances, except for Cathy, who appeared afraid.

The creature turned to face them.  

WELCOME MY CHILDREN.  I HAVE RETURNED.  YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHOM YOU SERVE.  INSTEAD OF RELEASING ME BY SLAYING THE TRAITOR, YOU BICKERED AMONGST YOURSELVES.  I WAS FORCED TO RELY ON WEAK-WILLED HUMANS, WHO PLANTED THE SEEDS OF WAR THAT BORE FRUIT ON THE SEA, SO THAT THE SON OF LEVIATHAN COULD FEED ON THEIR FLESH AND I COULD FEED ON THEIR SOULS.  IT WAS THESE FOOLS WHO SUCCEDED WHERE YOU DID NOT.

A long, taloned finger, the size of a man was tall, pointed in the direction of the Divine Fury.

AND BY KEEPING THE TOOLS THEY THOUGHT HAD BANISHED ME FOREVER, THEY HAVE ONLY ENSURED MY RETURN. YOU HAVE SERVED MY ENDS BETTER THAN MY FAITHLESS SERVANTS.  SOON I WILL ENTER THIS WORLD WITH ALL OF MY STRENGTH AND THEN I WILL MAKE FREEPORT BURN.  I WILL LET YOU LIVE TO WITNESS THIS, AS A LAST GIFT FOR BRINGING ME BACK TO THIS PLANE.  CADIC CANNOT SAVE YOU. 

The creature turned back to its five former followers.  

AS FOR YOU, MY FULL-FATHOM FIVE, YOU HAVE FAILED ME UTTERLY, AND FOR THAT YOU WILL SUFFER. I CALL YOU HOME.  THERE, YOU WILL KNOW ONLY TORMENT.

One by one, a whirlpool of at the creature’s feet sucked the evil spirits within.  All of them begged their former master for mercy as they were drawn slowly to their deaths, except for Ezekial Carthy, who was no longer afraid.  

He looked up at the avatar he once worshipped.  “Although I shall endure the slow torment you have prepared for me, I deserve it for what I have done.  Know this though: you will fail this day, and the mark of the Full-Fathom Five shall be wiped from your brow.  We are no longer your slaves.  Do now what you will with me, but with my last breath I renounced you, false god, and hope that your end will be a painful one!”

With that, Ezekial Carthy’s spirit disappeared into the whirlpool.

THE TIME OF EXILE IS OVER AT LAST.  ON THIS DAY, A NEW GOD WILL RISE.  AND I WILL BE WORSHIPPED IN BLOOD. 

Kham groggily got to his feet.  “What happened?”

“Leviathan’s about to destroy us all,” Sebastian said grimly.

“Oh, good, I was afraid I’d missed something.”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 7b – The Return of Leviathan*

“Fire!” shouted Kham.

The Divine Fury fired all of its cannons.  The blast surged into Leviathan’s flesh but the wounds bubbled and sealed.

Sebastian flapped up and around it, a fly annoying a giant.  A blast of cold spread from his hands, scouring Leviathan’s head, but the frozen flesh was merely reabsorbed.  

Using Cho Sun’s ring, Beldin rode a tidal wave to engage Leviathan.  He hacked at its legs, but the thing ignored him.

Flames came next from Sebastian, and again the endless replicating form swallowed up the burnt flesh. 

Beldin rose higher on the wave, and this time Leviathan took notice.  Tentacles squirmed outwards and snatched him off the wave. 

Sebastian threw an orb of acid, and it simply disappeared into Leviathan’s arm with no effect.

Beldin struggled in the tentacles.  One tentacle burst the dwarf’s shield into pieces.  Another snapped Windcutter in half before his very eyes.  Leviathan was toying with him.

“Damn it, Beldin!” shouted Kham. He concentrated, and suddenly he was in Leviathan’s tentacles and Beldin was on the deck of the Divine Fury.

“Wow, you’re even uglier up close.” Kham drew a bead with two pistols.  His eyes flashed, and a swarm of crystals burst from his pistols, shredding one of the stars from Leviathan’s head.  The avatar recoiled.

The tentacle convulsed, but Kham was already gone, willing himself back to the deck of the Divine Fury.

“Fire at the tattoo,” Kham said to Beldin, who was already skating across the ocean’s surface to engage the avatar. “It’s his weakest point!”

Beldin grabbed his adamantium axe, a backup he carried with him, and wielded it with both hands.  

Leviathan reared backwards and a blast of black energy shuddered forth all around it…


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 7c – The Return of Leviathan*

“I did it!” shouted Enzo, cavorting on the deck of the longship. 

The tcho-tchos had turned on the skohiir, slaughtering them and feasting on their flesh.  It was an orgy of violence and celebration at the return of their god.

He watched, ecstatic, as a ring of black energy warped out from Leviathan.  “Wait…what’s he doing?”

Enzo watched in horror as the decks of ship after ship collapsed, dead.  All throughout the fleet, orcs and elves, Freeporters and tcho-tchos, turned to shriveled husks where they stood.  

“But master…” was all Enzo got out before he too collapsed on the deck, dead.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 7d – The Return of Leviathan*

Kham fired again, and another burst of crystals exploded, wiping a second star off the thing.  Leviathan turned towards him with purpose.

Beldin sailed up to the thing’s face.  With a mighty roar, he hacked down on the star, cutting it right off Leviathan’s head.  Tentacles grabbed him once more, encircling Beldin’s entire body such that he couldn’t even move. 

Sebastian sailed past and, with one extended fist, strafed the surface of Leviathan’s head.  He struck one of the stars and it sizzled off the thing’s flesh. 

“One more star left!” shouted Kham.  “Come here you big squid!”  He was down to his last pistol.  There was no Skiz to reload it for him anymore, but then he wasn’t using normal ammunition either.  “Come get some!”

Leviathan lifted one huge, dripping claw and SMASHED Kham and the Divine Fury in half. 

“NOOO!” shouted Sebastian.  With a roar, he clapped both hands together and unleashed a torrent of eldritch energy from the very depths of his black soul.  

The final blow dimmed the light emanating from the tattoo on Leviathan’s forehead.  It let out an ear-shattering scream of pain.  Beldin slipped out of its grasp and fell into the ocean. 

The waters nearby began to churn into a powerful whirlpool as an unseen force lifted the creature’s body.  It hovered over the swirling waters for a moment, and then it was hurled into the maelstrom.  As it fell beneath the waves, it spoke its final words.  

DEATH IS ONLY A BEGINNING.  I WILL RETURN, CADIC.  I ALWAYS RETURN.

Cadic’s voice echoed in Sebastian’s head, one of the few beings left alive on the now too-quite ocean.

“I knew you had it in you.  I thank you for taking care of that cur for me.  Don’t worry about him returning.  If he does, it’ll be well after your time on this plane has ended.  You have my thanks.  I will grant each of you one boon: you can call on me but once. If I can help you, I will.  I bless you all.  May the wind be ever at your back and the waters calm before you.”

One ship sailed into view, its crew still alive.  It was the Bloody Vengeance.  

“Well look what we have here!” shouted Drak Scarbelly from the deck.  “An albatross and some fish!”

Sebastian landed on the deck.  “Fish?”

Beldin bobbed to the surface.  A second later, Kham’s head appeared.  He spat out water as Beldin’s ring lifted them both onto the deck.

Kham stretched.  “Ouch,” he said.  “I think I died there.”

“You did,” said Sebastian.

“Then I guess I know what boon I asked for,” muttered the Altherian.


----------



## Shieldhaven

I'm still only about halfway through the Story Hour, but I wanted to let you know that my girlfriend and I are really, really enjoying it. Keep up the great work!

Haven


----------



## talien

I'm so glad!

We're actually at the end of the campaign.  It's been over for two years now, and I've been posting every day for a year to catch up.  My current group's story hour is the d20 Modern/Delta Green one (we just finished a four scenario arc this past weekend so there'll be a lot of updates in that thread soon). 

I think there's maybe five more updates and then this story hour is complete. 

I'm glad to hear you're both enjoying it. Is your girlfriend a gamer as well?


----------



## Shieldhaven

I will definitely check out that SH next. As it happens, I looked down at the author of the RPG.net column I was reading today, and discovered that I had been enjoying your writing for some months now, rather than about a week.

She is - and the King in Yellow is moreover a particular interest of hers. This SH is uniquely calculated to entertain her. =)

Haven


----------



## talien

Too funny, my column on RPG.net is actually about the Modern story hour, so it will make a lot more sense when you read both together. 

I'm a big fan of all things King in Yellow/Carcosa too.  However, because the KIY was a major foe in the campaign, I swore not to include him in the modern game.  I did not say the same thing about Cthulhu, however...


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 8a – Aftermath*

General Menisis ran down to the area of collapsed wall and wrapped Roderick in the banner of the Pride of Chendo.  In moments, the young man’s eyes fluttered to life.

All around Vlad and Quintus, il’Huan bodies lay motionless.  Ichor was splashed everywhere, mixed with human blood. Most of Quintus contubernium and almost all of Vlad’s canton were dead.  

Quintus, battered and bloody, limped over to pick up Precision.  He handed it to the General.

Menisis smiled but shook his head.  

Quintus offered it to Roderick, who turned away, tears in his eyes.  

“Then it goes back to the Order of the Blade, I suppose,” said Quintus. 

Menisis saw Vlad slowly walking towards him, but he made no move to defend himself.  “I have a note for your Emperor. Listen well.  It is but this: I am coming for you.”

Vlad nodded.  “I’ll pass that along.”

Menisis gave him a curt nod.  

The battle was over.  Enpebyn had not been taken, but there was little left worth conquering.  The il’Huan had evened the odds for both sides.  In the end, they had fought and won nothing.

Both armies no longer had the stomach to fight.  Mountains of il’Huan bodies were piled high, forming their own sort of hilly terrain on the battlefield.  Men who had been slaughtering each other moments before helped their enemies to their feet, just as Vlad and Quintus leaned on each other for support.  Such was the way of war.

Vlad and Quintus limped off the battlefield together.  

“Now what?” asked Quintus.

“I think I might go back to Freeport.”  He smiled.  “It’s a shame you don’t visit more often.  You’d be surprised by what you can find there.”

Quintus was haggard.  “I’d retire to my farm, but I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer.  The crops haven’t been good this year.” He looked out over the battlefield.  So many of his friends were dead.  “But still, anything is better than this.” He looked hopefully at Vlad.  “Have you heard from Ilmarė?”

Vlad shook his head.  “I haven’t been back to Freeport since the war.  But I’m sure she’s safe.  I’ll give her word.”

Quintus shook his head.  “Don’t.  Perhaps it’s best if she thinks I died.”

Vlad slapped Quintus on the back.  “Don’t be so glum, my friend. I think things are going to start to look up for all of us.”


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 8b – Aftermath*

Sebastian sat brooding at the gathering of the Captain’s Council.  This time they had the good sense not to convene in the square. And yet much of Freeport was present, filling the Sea Lord’s Palace as never before.  It was almost like the old days.

Emric smiled at each of the remaining council members.  Twelve seats surrounded the throne. Dirwin Arnig the gnome was there, along with the Altherian Liam Blackhammer, Lady Elise Grossette, Marilise Maeorgan, and the high priestess of Yarris, Sister Gwendolyn. Then he addressed the crowd, more man than boy.

“Freeport has lost much this past week.  But in any time of sorrow, Freeport returns stronger than ever before.  We mourn the loss of Captain Xavier Gordon, Captain Marcus Roberts, Captain Hector Torian, Captain Garth Varellion, and Captain Buster Wallace.”  He nodded at the five empty seats, each represented by a wreath of flowers. No one mourned the loss of Arias Soderheim and no flowers were on his seat. “But in the interest of rebuilding Freeport, I hereby announce the following new Council Members.”  He turned to special seats facing the throne. 

“Petra Fricke.”  The crowd cheered.  The leader of the Guild of Craftsmen was a popular choice. Petra came forward, bowed, and demurely took her seat.

“Captain Baldric.”  The crowd cheered again.  After all his efforts, Baldric had finally gotten the seat he so sorely coveted.

The grizzled old captain hobbled up to the dais, tears in his eyes.  He bowed awkwardly and took a seat.

Kham leaned over to whisper to Beldin.  “What’s up with Baldric?”

Beldin shrugged.  “Something about losing his cat…”

“Morgan Baumann,” said Emric, “Captain of the Kraken’s Claw.”  Cheers went up.  Captain Baumann had fought heroically during the battle and redeemed herself in the eyes of many, but not all. Morgan’s detractor glowered at her from a nearby seat.

Baumann marched up, her eyes filled with tears of pride.  She saluted Emric and then sat down in the Council seat provided for her.

“High Priest Egil Thompson of the Temple of Althares.” A man of medium height and build, with fairly short brown hair, brown eyes, and no distinguishing features, clapped loudly, leading the crowd into applause.  It was Steel, K’Stallo’s form for when he wished to walk amongst humans. 

Egil was popular but his suspicious connections to ssanu, even if they were friendly, tainted his legacy.  Egil humbly bowed before Emric and took his seat.  His appointment to the Council paved the way for a bill guaranteeing amnesty for the Hitthkai ssanu. But that was for another day.

“High Priest Peg-Leg Peligro of the Temple of Cadic.”  More wild applause.  Most Freeporters knew Cadic was the reason Freeport was saved and they venerated him as much if not more than Yarris.  Few caught Lady Gwendolyn’s frown.

Peg-Leg stumped his way up to the dais, managed an awkward bow, and took a seat.

“Drak Scarbelly, Captain of the Bloody Vengeance.”  There was an audible gasp.  Then all the orcs in the room went wild, cheering and hooting, and even crushing humans in bearhugs.

Scarbelly hobbled up to the throne and bowed low, lower than any of the others.  He slowly, painfully took his seat.

“And last but not least, filling the Privateer Seat…Kham val’Abebi, Captain of the Divine Fury II!”

The crowd went nuts, screaming and whistling and yelling Kham’s name.  Touldrix gave him a long kiss before the Altherian took the stage.  Kham walked up to Emric, ruffled his hair, and sat down in his seat.  He was seated next to Liam Blackhammer. 

“Two Altherians and a priest of Althares on the Council,” said Kham with a grin.  “Wonder if it’s another Continental plot to take over the city?”

Liam smiled back.  “Don’t be so sure,” he said seriously.  “Altheria issued a statement indicating that Althares was angered at the waste of his gift of blast powder.  He’s taken the special spark away.”

Kham blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because I tried to make some,” Liam said seriously.  “And I can’t anymore.”

Kham looked skyward.  “Wow, and I thought Cadic was a hardass.”
_
You know what would make dis a perfect scene? _whispered Zoltan’s voice in Kham’s mind.  A crystal floating around your head.  _You can pretend I’m an ioun stone._

Kham bit his lip.  “Shh, Zolt,” he said to the emerald on his collar that contained a sliver of Zoltan Zaska’s soul.

“Hmm?” asked Liam.

Kham focused his attention back on Emric.  “Nothing.”

“To replace our beloved Commissioner Williams, I have chosen the most morally upstanding citizen of Freeport, who laid down his life to protect our beloved city.  Beldin Soulforge, please step forward!”

Beldin stumped up, his beard resplendent with gold fastenings at the tips.  Windcutter had returned to him, bonded as it was to his soulstone. The dwarf received a symbolic key to the city, provided by Emric.

The crowd cheered. Beldin took his seat near Kham.

Kham leaned forward.  “Psst!  Where’s Sebastian?  Doesn’t he get any accolades?”

Beldin shrugged over his chair. “I think he has all the power he needs. He said something about researching his heritage.”

Satisfied that the Sea Lord of Freeport was restoring order to the city, Sebastian stirred from his perch in the crossbeams of the Sea Lord’s Palace, nearly a hundred feet above them.  He spread his wings and flew out a nearby window.

It was time, he decided, to reclaim his own birthright.


----------



## talien

*City Under Siege: Part 8c – Aftermath*

A black-clad figure stepped into the Last Resort at precisely midnight.  A nervous Bobbin Brandydale met him at the door.

“You must be Mr. Ducayne,” he whispered so as to not wake the other guests. “It’s an honor to have you here sir.”

Ducayne nodded, his pale lips curling in a feral smile.  “The pleasure is mine.  I take it you did not object to my requirements?”

Bobbin shook his head.  “Not at all.”

Ducayne was dressed in a black fedora, trench coat, leather pants, gloves, and boots.  Two pistols hung from either hip.   He waited until Bobbin got the hint that he should repeat the instructions.

Bobbin cleared his throat. “You’ll have the Imperial Suite all to yourself.  The door has already been painted according to your instructions.  Automatic withdrawals will be made from your account at the Vault, to be paid in gold the first of each month.”

“Very good.  I think our arrangement will work nicely.” 

Bobbin led the strange man up to the Imperial Suite. It consisted of four rooms, the first being a reception area, complete with furniture Ducayne had purchased.  

Whoever he was, Bobbin knew he was wealthy. He guessed that Ducayne was a Coryani escaping the war; although his manner of dress suggested an Altherian, his pale skin was more akin to a Milandisian.  And yet he had a hint of a Canceri accent. He was probably an adventurer.

Ducayne hesitated at the door.  It was painted with the words: DO NOT DISTURB in red. 

“In the past, I am aware that you have suffered some unfortunate…incidents, here.”

Bobbin spread his hands over his apron to wipe the sweat from his palms.  “That’s true. Between the samat attack and Coombs’ bombs, the Last Resort has suffered quite a bit of damage.  But thanks to our arrangement, we’ll be able to pay off all the old debts.  Unfortunately, orc labor’s not cheap anymore.”

The stranger allowed a slight smile.  “Those days are over.  From now on The Last Resort is under my protection.”

“That’s…comforting, sir.”

“That is all, Mr. Brandydale. Thank you for your time.”

Bobbin nodded and stepped backwards.  Before the door closed, a squeaky voice reached his ears.

“So I gotta stay on watch all day in here, boss?”

“Not just here, Skiz,” said the man who called himself Ducayne.  “I have other work for you to do…”

Then the door closed and Bobbin was glad he could hear no more.


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Part 8d – Aftermath*

Three evenings a week, cats from every part of the city congregated in an alley behind the Freeport Institute.  And sitting at the front of the peculiar gathering of felines with a tiny black-and-white kitty.  

“The Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign has suffered a crippling blow,” she said in the cat tongue.  “But the rise of the Children of Leviathan was unexpected.”

One of the cats mrowed loudly from the back of the alley. “I warned you last week!”

“As I said,” the lead cat continued, “unexpected. As the Cult of the Unspeakable One lost its power, the Cult of Leviathan experienced a resurgence.  We must not let that happen again.”

“I said that too,” muttered a large gray tabby.

“Pardon me,” said the instructor, “but some of us were putting up with drunken pirates on a ship, trying to keep their people safe and on the right path.  I don’t need to remind you about that idiot chef Reed wanted to COOK me.” When sullen silence greeted her, she continued. “Now, we were able to keep casualties to a minimum during the war, but there is much rebuilding to do.  And in times of chaos, evil takes hold.  What have you discovered?”

“The Bleeding Fist Cult,” said a fluffy white cat.  “They are popular amongst the disaffected orcs who believe all elves should be driven off the island.”

“Noted,” said the instructor.  “The strays will need to keep track of Scurvytown.”

“We ALWAYS keep track of Scurvytown,” said the gray tabby.  “Not all of us have our noses stuck in books.”

“Cuttleback’s back,” muttered a jet-black kitten.  “Fishing for more brains…”

“Another Harvester has popped up,” said a spotted brown and white cat.  “Eudokia Kasovar.”

The instructor sighed.  “Great, I thought we wiped them out.”

“Lord Bonewrack’s awoken,” said a shorthaired orange feline.  “That rift in the Plane of Shadow must have stirred him…”

“There’s something fiendish going on,” said the gray tabby.  “I don’t have any proof yet, but your sorcerer friend has been stirring the pot and I think what he awakens will not treat Freeport kindly.”

“Duly noted—“

“What in Althares’ eyes is going on out here?” 

The lesson was cut off as a spectacled, middle-aged woman in a nightgown shone a light into the alleyway from a window.  The instructor immediately returned to licking her paws.  Every other cat did the same.

Wilimina Gertz chuckled.  “Oh, it’s you.  Well, try to keep your Council of Cats quiet, won’t you?”  She shook her head and whispered, “silentium.” 

The majority of the felines were magically silenced. “You’re lucky you’re such a good mouser, Miss Maya, or we’d have thrown you off the premises a long time ago.”  

The malkin turned her head to squint upwards at the source of the light, as if noticing Wilimina for the first time.  “Meow?”

“That’s what I thought,” said the professor.  “I swear, sometimes I think you can understand me.  Try to keep the noise to a dull roar; my magic can only do so much.”  Chuckling to herself again, the professor closed the window.

Maya stopped cleaning herself. “Resolvo veneficus!” With the silence dispelled, the malkin rolled her eyes.  “Now where were we?”


----------



## talien

*Crisis in Freeport: Conclusion*

Quintus sat on a chair, surveying his failing orchard.   Without a war to fight or men to lead, Quintus was alone once more. The sun-dappled fields were beautiful nonetheless.  He stared at them for a long time.  

Quintus turned to his major domo.  “I think we’re going to have to pack up this place.  We’ll free the slaves and take what we can.”

The major domo looked surprised, but with his tongue cut out there was little he could say about it.  

“I know,” said Quintus.  “But we haven’t enough crops to sustain the farm.”

The trees had not been growing well. The season was harsh, and with war came demand.  He had sacrificed what little harvest he had to the Rebels, secretly of course.  

The major domo put one hand on Quintus’ shoulder, a gesture that could have gotten him killed.  But it was one man to another, not as equals but as a family of sorts.  He understood.

The sound of hoof beats broke Quintus out of his funk.  A carriage pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse.

Quintus got up as someone stepped out of it.

“Ilmarė?” he asked, hardly believing his eyes.

The elorii smiled and nodded. Then she turned away to scoop up a bundle on the seat behind her.

It was a baby elorii girl.  She cooed and yawned in Ilmarė’s arms. 

“The child,” said Quintus in wonder.  “You’re both all right!”  Tears filled his eyes.  “I had thought…”

Ilmarė put a finger to his lips.  “Shh.  No more tears.  The God War came and went.  And you know what that means.”

Quintus shook his head. 

“I don’t have to kill you anymore.”  She smiled sheepishly at him, the silver in her hair reflecting in the sunlight.  “Now that we’ve got that settled, my daughter and I are looking for a safe place to stay.  Do you know of any?”

Quintus blinked.  “I…you are welcome to stay here, but the farm is failing.  I don’t think that we can—“

Ilmarė laughed.  He hadn’t heard her laugh in such a long time.  “I nearly forgot.” She snapped her fingers, and Quintus’ major domo dragged a heavy chest out of the carriage.  With a groan, he dropped it at Quintus’ feet.

“Open it,” she said.

Quintus unlatched the chest and threw the lid open.

Inside was a glittering cache of gold doubloons.  There were so many that the sun sparkled in Quintus’ face, forcing him to squint.  An envelope sat in the center.  

Quintus opened the envelope and scanned the note.

It read: “For duty and honor! V.”

“There’s got to be thousands of gold pieces in here,” said Quintus.  

“Thirty thousand, to be precise,” said Ilmarė, rocking her baby.  “Will that be enough for our room and board?”

Quintus laughed in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say…”  

“Say yes.”

“Yes,” said Quintus with a broad smile.

“Good, now let me introduce you to my daughter.” She held the child up, who cooed and grabbed Quintus’ finger.

“What’s her name?” asked the legionnaire turned farmer.

“Anulee Persius Galen,” she said softly.  

Quintus nodded, amazed at the baby’s grip. “In honor of your sister.”

“No,” smiled Ilmarė.  “This IS my sister.” She abruptly handed the baby girl off to Quintus, who looked stunned at the delicate package in his hands.  “Let’s go inside and I’ll explain.”

And together, Quintus, Ilmarė, and Anulee walked into his farmhouse.


----------



## talien

*The End...for now*

Well folks, that's it.  Even with me posting every friggin day, it took six years to get this campaign published on ENWorld.  I'm not entirely sure, but it may be the most read story hour on the board and possibly the Internet -- if not, it's definitely ranked highly amongst them, and I have all of you to thank for that.

It's been a fun ride.  But after awhile, posting so frequently was starting to become cumbersome.  Toddlers don't like it when you type on the computer, and you can only play Yo Gabba Gabba videos in another window for so long before they get antsy. As much as I enjoyed writing and publishing this story hour, it was becoming a bit of a chore.

You'll notice that there's a little plot point with Sebastian that was never resolved.  That was Hell in Freeport, which we still joke that we might play one day.  If there's enough interest from players here, we may just get everyone together to do it -- or I may cheat and do a narrative game (where I tell the players what happens, we skip the combat, and just role-play the story and I write it later).  But right now there's no pressing need...I'm working on my book, we've got our modern campaign to contend with, and the birth of my second child is imminent.

Oh right.  So, the whole reason the campaign ended was because my son was born.  That was nearly three years ago!  Although the story didn't quite match the outcome (Ilmare's child was a girl) the timing was right...because our second child, due at the end of May, is a girl.  And no, her name is not Anulee.

At least for a little while, I'm happy to leave the characters we lived with for so long to their happy endings. Quintus and Ilmare finally have their (admittedly weird) family they always wanted. Kham is a certified pirate with his very own ship.  Beldin has respect and power.  And Vlad's filthy rich. I like to think they will live out their lives to happy old age. I think they earned it. 

Except Kham of course.  He'll die a quick death -- if not drugs or alcohol, it will certainly be women. But I digress.

I'm in touch with all of the players in the game, so if you have any questions or you want to hear more about any particular character, I might be able to drag them onto the boards or at least relay your questions.

I've been reading a lot of Dr. Seuss lately to my son, so I think it's appropriate to quote him here:



			
				Dr. Seuss said:
			
		

> But on you will go though the weather be foul.
> On you will go though your enemies prowl.
> On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
> Onward up many a frightening creek,
> though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak.
> On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far
> and face up to your problems whatever they are.
> 
> You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know.
> You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go.
> So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact
> and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act.
> Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
> And never mix up your right foot with your left.
> 
> And will you succeed?
> Yes! You will, indeed!
> (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
> 
> Kid, you’ll move mountains!
> So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
> or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea,
> you’re off to Great Places!
> Today is your day!
> Your mountain is waiting.
> So…get on your way!



Good night and God bless.


----------

