Blood and Bewitchment Logs

[Steerpike]

[ic=Frontal Assault]Shan-Szut towers before you, a grim spire of rock silhouetted against a bleak, darkening sky.  There are no steps, but a rough, broad path winds up and around the otherwise sheer face of the rock-spire.  Near the top a dark hollow indicates a cave entrance.

Tarim - So, we're caught between this hellish storm and a place full of bandits.

Eareg Maar - Should we attempt to attack now, or withdraw for the time being and gather our strength?

* Kaius Alexander glances at Eareg.

Tarim - We better not rush in.

Kaius Alexander - I am prepared, but if the remainder of you require rest I do not mind.

Tarim - We should scout out for alternative entrances.

* Zaszicar nods, chittering.

Tarim - If there's only one way in it's going to be guarded.  I would also welcome a chance to rest and prepare some hexes.

Eareg Maar - It's settled then - let's away for now, and return when we're better prepared.

* Mr. Carver nods.

Quite suddenly, a bedraggled-looking jatayi plummets out of the storm-wracked sky, his feathers scorched.

Mr. Carver - Wispy!

Wispy - Gee grubswallowers, y'all won't be able to handle where the hell I've been... It's better not to say. Just point me in the direction and I'll peck.

Mr. Carver - Right now we are keeping still.  Don't worry, I'll remember to point.

Tarim - You can peck all you want, but a bit later.  Your assistance is well appreciated, though.

Eareg Maar - If memory serves, there is a place we may shelter more securely a short distance from here, where we may avoid the scrutiny of any guarding the eyrie.

Wispy - Keeping still - gleet that's a good idea - I should have done that instead of flying in the sand.

Mr. Carver - The weather won't hold us back?

Wispy - Didn't hold me back.

Kaius Alexander - Lead us there, Eareg. I tire of standing in the shadow of this edifice if we are not going to assault it.

Eareg Maar - It's away from the storm, fortunately enough; and even if the wind changed, it would provide us with shelter from that as well.

Mr. Carver - Well that sounds like just the thing we need.

Zaszicar - (at Wispy) Greetings, winged-one.  I am called Zaszicar.

* The mutilated lilix swordsman bows.

* Wispy bows in return.

Wispy - Zaszicar... zasicar; I bet that 'mong the lillx you're a star... probably going far; hard-de-har har.

* Zaszicar eyes the jatayi strangely, blinks its many eyes.

Tarim - Let us hurry then; this storm will not wait for us.

* Eareg Maar leads you north and west.  A chasm is evident some distance ahead, a cleft in the otherwise unbroken waste, like an unclosed wound.

Eareg Maar - We should be safe enough here.

* Wispy spits up sand.

* Tarim eyes the chasm suspiciously.

Inside the rocky walls of the canyon it is cooler and quieter, the hideous howling of the storm partially mitigated by the brown stone around you.  The sandy floor of the chasm is littered with animal bones.

Eareg Maar - There's an old, looted tomb a little ways ahead.  Nothing but old bones and dust.

* Eareg Maar presses forwards.  

A black doorway is cut into the wall here, leading into a musty tunnel beyond.  Ancient glyphs surround the rectangular opening, carved into the rock.  Fragments of what might have been an actual door litter the ground.

* Eareg Maar lights his pipe and gestures welcomingly.

Tarim - I wonder who built this...

Mr. Carver - I'd rather not wonder too much about that.

* Kaius Alexander steps inside cautiously.

Strangely curved tooth-like extrusions that perpetually drip a dark liquid jut from the walls of this corridor.  A skeletal corpse is skewered by several of them, lifted several feet of the ground.   At the end of the corridor is another open door.

Mr. Carver - Very homely, Eareg.

Eareg Maar - Don't touch the spikes.  The room beyond is a bit safer.

* The ghul scavenger grins rather horribly and puffs at his pipe.

Beyond the front hall is a small anteroom, a vaulted chamber with three additional exits.  The walls are covered in carvings of screaming faces, their mouths gaping holes.  Littering the floor are dozens of what look to be dead insects variously squashed, burnt, or otherwise destroyed, their greenish ichor staining the flagstones.  The directly opposite exit once had an enormous stone door, but this has been broken; the room beyond is obscured by the thick, ancient gloom.  The other two exits are sealed by stone doors scriven with mysterious glyphs.

Eareg Maar - Don't mess with the sealed doors.  Powerful witchery on them...

Kaius Alexander - And the bugs?

Mr. Carver - Probably hit the door.  Or some other hidden horrible thing.

* Wispy sees if the bugs are edible.

* Wispy picks at any particularly meaty beetles.

Delicious, if a bit dry and chewy...

Eareg Maar - Used to be another trap here.  Insects would pour from the holes in the wall, devour intruders.  The crows who came in here cleaned em out, though.

Kaius Alexander - Endearing.

* Wispy - Crows don't know what they were missing.

* Tarim studies the glyphs as he moves along.

The glyphs are clearly protective wards.  They look like they'd curse anyone trying to open the doors.

Tarim - Fascinating.

Kaius Alexander - Going to try opening one?

Tarim - Oh, definitely not.  As Eareg said, that'd be a bad idea indeed.

Eareg Maar - Next chamber over is the looted crypt and treasure vault.  Nothing to see; it's been picked clean.

Mr. Carver - Just point me in the direction of a safe nook. I've had enough action for today, I should say.

Eareg Maar - We should be safe here, or in the vault.

* Eareg Maar begins setting up camp.

* Kaius Alexander sits down heavily and assumes a lotus position.

* Kaius Alexander tosses an apple to Conveyance.

The lizard hisses happily.

* Tarim sits in a corner, setting down his haversack and opens his grimoire, laying it carefully down on a reasonably clean place.

* Kaius Alexander checks the rounds in his revolver.
 
* Mr. Carver harvests some of the black, caustic secretions dripping from the spikes in the front hall.

Wispy - Not planning on eating that, are ya?

Mr. Carver - Not if I can avoid it.

* Mr. Carver stores the vials of black goo in a secret pocket.

* Mr. Carver finds a suitable spot in the back of the vault and lies down to rest on his bedroll, bowler hat skewed to cover the eyes.

* Tarim hums quietly as his studies his grimoire, his jeweled eye-implants glittering with eldritch light. In the meantime Fangs lurches about in the shadows, exploring the place.

Wispy - For a moment there, I thought I'd brought you around to my culinary point of view, oh well.

* Wispy shrugs.

The night passes uneventfully.  While the gaping doorway is unnerving - it feels as if some beast or other intruder might stumble inside at any time - nothing disturbs the group's rest.  The next day, the eldritch storm has passed and the Slaughter-lands are relatively placid once more.

Mr. Carver - You ever been to Shan-Szut, Wispy?  Seems like it is, or was, a popular destination for the local bird-men.  

Wispy - Nah.  Can't say I've seen the place.

Mr. Carver - I at least think we should attempt to scout the place.

Eareg Maar - Agreed.

Mr. Carver - Tarim, any occult hexes of divination on hand?

Tarim - Nothing that would let me see in the Eyrie.  How dark is it inside these birdman-nests usually?

Eareg Maar - No clue.  Never been inside; scavengers just use this place as a landmark.  The jatayi don't like visitors out here.

Wispy - Well we have eyes, ghul.  So, not too dark.  But not too bright, either.

Mr. Carver - They might have guards out - the bandits.  So our reflective friend Kaius here might want to stay in the dark.

Tarim - Better leave reconnaissance to those most skilled at it.

Kaius Alexander - I have no patience for sneaking. We should mount a frontal assault and deal with these bandits.

Mr. Carver - You are the only one with inch-thick armour, human.

Wispy - Then they'll mount an aerial assault and peck out your heads.  Us Jatayi have got the high ground.  So unless you can fly...

Mr. Carver - There are no Jatayi in there

* Kaius Alexander cocks his head to the side.

Wispy - That idea's likely to get ya' to die.

Kaius Alexander - Your brain is muddled, bird.

Mr. Carver - unless the bandits have procured some traitors whose taste for coin is greater than their taste for carrion.

Wispy - That's almost certain.

Tarim - Not that we can be sure that there aren't any flyers amongst them.

Kaius Alexander - Our friend Eareg is a deadeye shot. Flyers will be no trouble, I am sure.

Wispy - Now, what we could do is set the nests aflame... And burn out the bandits.

Tarim - And in any case, it seemed to be a long ascent to the main entrance.

Mr. Carver - I will circle the eyrie and see if I can discover anything. I will meet you back here in an hour, no?

* Mr. Carver heads out to scout.

You don't find any obvious secret entrances, and in fact you trip over a rock while investigating a cranny and involuntarily cry out in pain.  The sound of your cry echoes rather ominously across the plains...

Wispy - They've got Carver!

* Kaius Alexander sighs loudly.

* Eareg Maar cocks an eyebrow and unslings Meteor.

* Tarim grumbles and draws his pistol.

* Kaius Alexander begins to pace back and forth.

There is no sign that anyone heard Carver's yelp; at least, an army of bandits haven't charged down the path with guns blazing...

* Mr. Carver limps back to the group.

Tarim - What happened to you?

Mr. Carver - Minor unfortunate event.  Don't worry.  No sign of any activity?

Tarim - Not anything that we can see from here.

Kaius Alexander - I hope you found something useful with your waste of our time.

Mr. Carver - I guess it's time for plan B then; the frontal assault.

Tarim - So, are we to climb up to the cave's mouth? Let us hope that we can make it there without being gunned down from above...

It's still fairly dark; the sun has just barely risen, and the dawn in these latter days of the world is red and dim.

* Kaius Alexander draws his sword and begins to ascend the slope, followed closely by the rest of the party.

Mr. Carver - Let's not make more noise than we have to.

The party is most of the way up the track when a crossbow bolt suddenly whines off Kaius' full plate!

* Kaius Alexander grunts and keeps walking.

A dark figure up near the cave entrance is visible, crouching behind a rock.

* Tarim ducks and curses.

Mr. Carver - Wispy! Get him! You are the only on not stuck on this gleeting path.

* Tarim tries to stay out of their line of fire while he invokes Harden the Skin.

* Kaius Alexander draws his revolver and fires off a shot at the figure, but his bullet richoets off the brigand's cover.

* Mr. Carver presses himself against the cliff-face and continues his ascent.

* Kaius Alexander calls out as he advances.

Kaius Alexander - This is an unlawful occupation. Remove yourselves immediately or face summary execution.

"Fuck off you gleeting scumsucking sod!  We'll have your skin for this!"

Kaius Alexander - That is an outcome I find doubtful. I have given my only warning.

* Tarim advances forward half-crouched, keeping his head low while invoking a hex.

* Wispy casts Honeyslick directly behind the guy who's shooting at us.

* Kaius Alexnader takes a second shot, this time wounding his adversary.  The man grunts in pain as the bullet sears through his boiled leather.

* Eareg Maar takes careful aim and fires, grazing the crossbowman.

* Mr. Carver speed up the path towards the bandits, tumbling past any hindrances.

* Zaszicar begins scaling the cliff.

You arrive at the top of the path.  Two bandits are currently on guard, one with a crossbow, the other brandishing a rapier.  You can hear footsteps inside the cave, and glimpse shapes moving around with your insectile eyes.

* Tarim hurries up, some distance after Carver. He halts to raise his blunderbuss pistol and takes a shot at the bandit.

The shot throws up a cloud of debris where it hits the cliff.  The bandit flinches back.

* Wispy takes to the air and fires one of his hand-crossbows at the swordsman.  His quarrel ricochets off the brigand's armour.

* Zaszicar pulls himself up and slashes at the nearest bandit, who screams in pain as the lilix's blades carve him to ribbons.  The man is still alive, but bleeding badly and in no condition to fight.

The second bandit rushes forward to fight Carver, but slips in Wispy's arcane honeyslick!

*Kaius Alexander arrives at the cave entrance and charges blindly into Shan-Szut, sword swinging!

A mantid with a pair of knives, a ghul wielding a heavy axe, and an unarmed human with serpentine tattoos and distinctive bracers resembling intertwined snakes round his forearms greet you unceremoniously '" reinforcements coming to assist their fellows at the entrance.

* Kaius Alexander lays into the witch with a vicious strike, leaving himself open to attacks, but the man dodges deftly and Kaius' blade hits the wall with a clang, falling from the Insomnolent's hand.

* Eareg Maar charges up the path and reaches the top, rifle ready.

* Mr. Carver lashes out with his demoniac tendril, encircling the prone bandit's ankle.  He hurls the man off the precipice.

There's now an ugly little red stain at the foot of Shan-Szut.

* Zazsicar finishes off the crossbowman, beheading him contemptuously.  The front guards have been dispatched.

* Tarim continues on over the remaining steps to the cave entrance, takes one look at the mess Kaius has gotten himself in, frowns and unleashes the Plague of Vermin hex at the trio of bandits.

Bats swirl around the cavern, and the bandits are quickly distracted by the swarm.

* Wispy moves into position among the bats.

Wispy - I am the ghost of the jatayi that you killed, foul bandits of fowl's roost!

* Wispy fires his weapons madly into the melee.

* Zaszicar charges forward, blades whirling.  The lilix ignores the bats and attacks the mantid.  The insectile knife-fighter deflects the arachnoid's blow skillfully, but the second wounds him badly, spattering his blood across the cave wall.

The human witch with the strangely snake-like tattoos begins to hiss the syllables of some sinister jinx.

* Kaius Alexander, still missing his longsword, lashes out with a gauntleted fist.  Blood and teeth spray everywhere as his punch connects with the witch's face, causing the human to lose his spell.  His head batters against the cave-wall and he is temporarily stunned.

* Eareg Maar aims and then fires carefully at the mantid bandit.  The bullet hits one of the mantid's four arms, and it chitters in pain, singed badly.

* Mr. Carver darts through the cavern entrance and flanks the wounded mantid knife-fighter sparring with Zaszicar.  With a skilful strike he hamstrings the mantid, causing the brigand to fall to one knee.

* Zaszicar lunges forward, seeing his opportunity.  He brings both of his blades to bear, scissoring them across the mantid's exposed throat and shearing of the bandit's head.  A burst of blood slathers Mr. Carver from the creature's pumping neck-stump.

Mr. Carver - Thanks, Zasz!

* Tarim sidesteps round the entrance corner, just out of sight of the bandits within, and unleashes his Harden the Skin tattoo. Dark leathery blotches sprout up to cover his dried skin.

* Wispy moves in, his crossbows whirring.  One of his bolts grazes the ghul axeman.

Wounded, the ghul snarls and retreats into the gloom of Shan-Szut.  Meanwhile, the human witch comes to and desperately begins a second incantation.

* Kaius Alexander punches the magus again, breaking the man's nose with his armoured fist.  The witch's face is now a bloody ruin.

* Kaius Alexander snatches up his blade and brings it up for a killing blow.

The defenseless witch quivers before the blade descends.

"Don't kill me!  I surrender!" He gasps, blood trickling from his mouth and nostrils.

* Zaszicar looks murderous but sheathes his own swords after wiping them off on the mantid's headless corpse.

* Tarim enters the cavern and slowly approaches the scene.

"I can - gasp - help you,' the witch pleads.  'I can show you through the caverns.  I have valuable information!  All I ask is that you spare me."

Mr. Carver - Hmm, sounds like a reasonable offer. He won't be much trouble on his own in the wastes...

* Tarim eyes the human witch suspiciously.

Tarim - Do not try any tricks with hexes. Rest assured that I will spot them.

Kaius Alexander - A show of your good faith.

"What would you ask of me?"

* Kaius Alexander leaves his sword poised above the witch.

Kaius Alexander - How many of your ilk remain below?  What is their armament?

"Only two - the ghul, an axeman, and a human fool guarding the loot.  We also have a squad of fetch - shock troops - imprisoned in the jatayi's larder.  They would pose as prisoners if you approached them.  The rest of our band is out on a raid: they will return by nightfall.  We were merely the skeleton guard."

Kaius Alexander - How many on the raid?

"Twenty-two, and armed to the teeth."

Mr. Carver - That's bad news.

"From this - ack - position, you could, possibly, mount a defense."

Kaius Alexander - I see. Is your leader among them?

"Yes - a human named Uzrim."

Mr. Carver - How do you control the Fetch?

"They are conveyed into battle in a cage, goaded and hexed to be made obedient.  We let them feast upon and torture any prisoners."

Mr. Carver - How do you gather them again?

"They are corralled with pikes and shocking hexes; those that resist, we destroy."

Kaius Alexander - Why did you take over this eyrie?

"It proved the perfect location to ambush caravans heading south from Crepuscle, on to Macellaria."

Kaius Alexander - Lastly. Why should I believe that you will not betray us at the earliest possible convenience? You certainly were quick to abandon your allegiance.

Mr. Carver - You did beat him up pretty good, in his defence.  He's a witch, remember. Speaks for him being motivated by greed rather than desperation or ignorance...

"You can trust me while it is in your power to take my life.  I owe no loyalty to Herreku; I only joined him because he promised coin."

Kaius Alexander - I will give you the opportunity to prove your sincerity. You have one chance, and only one. Cross me and you will die. Co-operate and we will see you unharmed. You may even travel in our company on the return to Macellaria, if that is your wish.

"As for my hexes - here, take my grimoire.  Is that collateral enough for my life?"

* Mr. Carver glances at Tarim.

* Kaius Alexander throws the grimoire to Tarim.

"I would gladly follow you to the City of Bodysnatchers.  I am known as Yerroch; some have called me the Serpent's Paramour."

Tarim - He will no doubt do anything that he thinks will spare his miserable life.  He can still call upon his power even without the book. He is far from harmless.

Mr. Carver - Well, a hex takes more than a thought right? Can't we tie him up?

Tarim - Gagged and bound should be good.

Kaius Alexander - Gag him then, if you fear his ability.  Zaszicar, bind his hands for now.

* Zaszicar binds Yerroch's hands and gags him.  For a moment Yerroch looks as if he will protest, but thinks the better of it.

Tarim - We can let him speak again when we have need for his tongue.

Mr. Carver - Either way, we should probably deal with the so-called skeleton crew first.

* Kaius Alexander checks the bodies of the dead for valuables.

You find a few bone coins, a set of loaded die, and an erotic daguerreotype on the dead crossbowman.  You also notice the witch's bracers, which are elaborately forged into the semblance of mating serpents with emerald inlays for eyes.

Tarim - Nice bracers. I think he has no need for them now...

* Tarim grins.

*Fangs jumps at the daguerrotype, grabs it and flys to the ceiling, giggling.

Kaius Alexander '" We will divide the spoils later.  Now, we must deal with the remaining two.

* Tarim approaches the bound human witch to remove his bracers.

Yerroch rolls his eyes but does not struggle - he's too smart to resist.

* Tarim examines the items.

As you remove the bracers, a small snake slithers out of the man's sleeve - clearly a familiar. Yerroch's eyes go wide.

* Tarim drops the braces and curses, startled.

The snake strikes swiftly, drawing blood.

* Tarim jumps back, drawing his blunderbuss pistol.

* Kaius Alexander sighs and removes the gag.

Mr. Carver - What do you know, a new bargaining chip!

Yerroch struggles to move and falls over.

Tarim - Wretched worm!

* Tarim takes aim.

Kaius Alexander - Tarim. No. Zaszicar, grab the snake.

* Zaszicar grabs the snake deftly before it can slither away.

Tarim - Has the audacity to bite me when we got his master bound! It should know better...

Kaius Alexander - You were saying, Witch?

"Return her!  Please... I will keep her under control."

Tarim - Under control!? It has already betrayed you. As if it will obey your commands now.  Better we kill the little creep.

Mr. Carver - He's obviously quite fond of it.  Let us "protect" it for him for a while.

Tarim - Of course he is.  Every witch appreciates his familiar.

Yerroch hisses something and the snake, which was struggling and writhing, falls limp in the lilix's hands.

Kaius Alexander - Zaszicar. Put the snake in a bag.  We will hold on to this for now, witch.

* Zaszicar complies, placing the snake in a small box he extracts from his pack.

* Tarim grits his teeth.

Tarim - You better keep that box securely closed, then.  And remember that the snake is in there. Will probably dart and bite as soon as it's opened.

Mr. Carver - I hope it's not like that bleedin' statue we used to drag along and can manage to stay in the box...

Kaius Alexander - Your snake will be returned when we deal with your former companions, witch.  Only then.

"Fair enough."

Kaius Alexander - Now, we must pursue the two who remain here.

Mr. Carver - And figure out how to take care of the rest. But yes, the two are our priority.

* Tarim picks up the bracers from the cave floor.
[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Hide and Seek]Occasional torches illuminate the otherwise gloomy depths of Shan-Szut; up ahead you can see the flicker of one at what looks like a fork in the tunnel.   One passage winds up, the other sharply downwards.  There is a smell of must and age, a vague feeling of desecration.

Mr. Carver - The ghul will have alerted the others. Any element of surprise we might have had will be lost.  We just need to take them down quickly before they can set up ample protections.

Kaius Alexander - Which way is the loot chamber, witch?

"Down, and to the left."

* Kaius Alexander heads downwards.

Wispy '" I'll stay up here, in case any of the gleetin' bastards try to make a run for it.

There's another fork; right and left, respectively.

Kaius Alexander - And what is to the right, witch?

"The central cavern; off that, our stabling, and the larder, as well as some other chambers."

Kaius Alexander - Of course. Is this the only entrance?

"Yes, that we know of.  There's said to be secret entrance somewhere, but we couldn't find it."

Kaius Alexander - Tarim. Would the explosives we retrieved earlier be able to seal this passage? I suspect our remaining foes seek to release the fetch on us.  It is either that, or deal with them conventionally.

Tarim - Hard to tell. It depends on how potent they are.

Kaius Alexander - A possibility.

Zaszicar - I would not suggest setting off explosives inside the caverns; they might precipitate a cave-in.  Sometimes in the mines of the Chelicerae Mountains the overseers would have slaves attempt excavations with explosives.  The results were often... unpleasant.
 
Eareg Maar - And wouldn't the jatayi be a mite annoyed if we destroyed half their eyrie?

Kaius Alexander - It is more than they currently have.

Eareg Maar - True.  Though I doubt they'll see it that way.

Mr. Carver - The way our friend here described it I doubt they have the manpower to control fetch at the moment.

Yerroch nods.  'The wouldn't dare release the fetch.  Too risky.'

Kaius Alexander - Let us investigate the treasury first, to ensure the other went with his friend.

Tarim - I'd rather die fighting the fetch than from a cave-in we ourselves set off.

Kaius Alexander - Desperate men will do things they normally would not. Do you disagree, Yerroch?

'They may be desperate but they would not be foolish enough to unleash the murderfolk, or attempt to control them on their own.'

* Kaius Alexander proceeds to the left.

Crates, chests, barrels, and whole  wagons fill this long cavern, heaped in irregular piles - the ill-gotten loot of the brigands.

Mr. Carver - Keep an eye out people.

* Mr. Carver stops to listen carefully.

You hear what sounds like a murmuring voice somewhere down the right-hand passage.  Possibly also a distant footfall.

* Eareg Maar readies Meteor and keeps it trained on the passage.

* Kaius Alexander investigates the nearest wagon.

It looks to be loaded with bolts of silk.

Tarim - Some rich loot. Would be good if we could seize some means of transporting it.

Kaius Alexander - Quite the haul, Yerroch.

The captive witch smiles grimly.  'The trick is converting goods like this back into coin.  What use would we have for a bunch of silks?'

Kaius Alexander - Anything exceptional?  Weapons? Trinkets? Coin?

'We haven't been through all of it.  Some crates of fireworks from a recent raid - probably Skein make.'

Kaius Alexander - We can evaluate this later. We must deal with our two rats, and then prepare to welcome your returning companions.

There's a chest of coin in the corner, where we've collected most of the actual money.

* Mr. Carver stealthily scouts a bit ahead.

The skulls of various beasts stare down from niches in the walls around the periphery of this large cavern.  There are three exits other than the one you're standing in.  As with the rest of the eyrie there is an almost palpable sense both of the sacred and of its violation.

* Kaius Alexander proceeds down the right corridor.

* Tarim follows after Kaius.

A few crates and tables are scattered about here.  You hear a whimper at the rightmost passage

* Mr. Carver skulks towards the whimpering sound.

The walls of this chamber are covered in beautiful if primitive pictograms depicting various mythological stories - monsters, heroes, maidens, gods, and demons play out elaborate visual sagas over the striped, variegated rock, illumined by torchlight.  A simply made stone table and a few wicker chairs occupy the center of the room.  A muzzled zerda is chained to one leg of the table.  It seems to be the source of the whimpers.

Kaius Alexander - What is down the left passage, witch?

A chamber where we stabled our mounts.

Kaius Alexander - And where is the larder?

'The larder is beyond, straight ahead and down.'

* Kaius Alexander investigates the stables.

There is an animal smell in this rough chamber, though there are no beasts currently here.  Two other passages lead downwards still further into the tower of rock.

* Kaius Alexander grunts and returns to the main cavern

Tarim - What sort of beasts are kept in here?

'Horses, camels, a few other beasts.'

Kaius Alexander - Where do the passages from the stable go, witch?

Down to the jatayi living quarters - a honeycomb of small chambers.  This was their feast hall.'  He gestures to the large cavern.  'The room yonder was their council room.'  He points to the room that Mr. Carver entered.

Kaius Alexander - I see. Where do you suspect your friends went?

Yerroch shrugs.  'If I were them I'd hide in the living quarters.'

Kaius Alexander - Hm. Wait here. I will get Carver.

Tarim - We better not split off before fighting those two.

* Kaius Alexander looks at Tarim.

Kaius Alexander - If they are down there, there is no danger.  I will retrieve Mr. Carver.

Mr. Carver '" (to the zerda) We'll get back to you.

The emaciated creature cringes.

Kaius Alexander - What is this, Carver?

Mr. Carver - A zerda.

Kaius Alexander - I see.

Mr. Carver - Possibly an unlucky caravaner.  Might be a fetch

* Kaius Alexander walks up to it and removes its gag.

Mr. Carver - What happened to "pressing matters" Kaius?

Kaius Alexander - This will take one moment.

* Kaius Alexander turns to the zerda.

Kaius Alexander - Why are you here?  And who are you?

The zerda growls suspiciously.

'I am called Keen-Nose,' it barks.

'We found the wretch dying in the desert,' Yerroch interjects.   'Abandoned by his tribe.  He was a thief, outcast for stealing from his fellow foxes; Uzrim thought he'd be amusing to keep around.'

The zerda snaps and barks at the human witch.[/b]

Kaius Alexander - Well, Keen-Nose, as my friend says, we have things to attend to.

* Kaius Alexander pours water into the foxfolk's mouth from a canteen.

The foxfolk drinks greedily.

Kaius Alexander - We will be back for you later.  I hold you no ill-will. This is for your safety.

* Kaius Alexander attempts to re-gag him.

The half-mad foxfolk snarls and bites at Kaius as he attempts to put the muzzle back on.

Mr. Carver - Leave it off, Kaius.  He has no reason to attract the attention of his captors.

* Kaius Alexander gives Keen-Nose a derisory look,

Kaius Alexander - Fox. I wear armour. Those are teeth.

* Kaius Alexander sighs.

Kaius Alexander - I will leave your muzzle off, if you remain quiet.

* Kaius Alexander turns and leaves the room.

Mr. Carver - Did anyone come by here?  Recently?

Keen-Nose shakes his shaggy head.

Mr. Carver - Back we go then.

* Mr. Carver strides down the corridor they came from.

You catch a glimspe of a figure disappearing through the entrance you came in by as you re-enter the central cavern.

Mr. Carver - There's someone back there.

Eareg Maar - Stop there!

* Kaius Alexander sighs.

Kaius Alexander - I tire of this game.

* Kaius Alexander draws his revolver and heads off in pursuit.

* Mr. Carver readies the Agony Knife and runs after the fleeing figure.

* Rounding a corner, Kaius Alexander takes a shot at the man's back, but his bullet pings off the cavern wall.

There is a gurgling sound from above and a corpse bumps down the corridor, a bolt in its throat.

* Wispy appears, grinning.

Wispy - Bugger thought he could get by me, heheh.

Kaius Alexander - You have finally made yourself useful, bird.

* Tarim grins.

Tarim - One down, another one left.  The ghul must still be down in the depths of the cavern, somewhere.

Kaius Alexander - Zaszicar, remain with Wispy at the entrance.  We will search for the grave-spawn.

* Mr. Carver scouts ahead, skulking down the dark and dusty corridors.

The living quarters of the jatayi are cramped, a series of small, hollowed chambers set along a winding corridor.  Occasional graffiti and etchings in an inscrutable tongue cover the walls.

* Kaius Alexander checks the rounds in his revolver.

Tarim - Do you know anything about this ghul warrior, witch? Anything useful?

"He's a hardened sort - close-mouthed and somber, like most of the nightfolk.  A cunning one, as well, and exceptionally skilled with his weapon.'

Carver, You hear a soft footfall behind you and spin to see a gaunt, leering figure looming in the shadows of a chamber behind you, an enormous axe in his hands!  The ghul grins in the darkness and raises his evil-looking weapon.

* Mr. Carver ducks aside deftly, and the ghul's axe whistles through the air, humming shrilly.[/b]

* Mr. Carver slashes at the ghul's face and the grave-spawn flinches back.  While the brigand is bewildered Carver melts into the gloom.

Kaius, Tarim, you hear something snarl up ahead, where Carver was skulking.

* Kaius Alexander moves swiftly towards the sound.

Tarim - Sounds like we've found our prey.  Eareg, keep an eye on Yerroch -we'll go help Carver.

* Eareg Maar tips his hat and keeps his weapon trained on the captive.

You find a lean, sinewy ghul in battered leathers fighting Mr. Carver.  The knife-fighter whirls around him, striking in the dark, while the grave-spawn stumbles and attempts to locate him.

* Tarim advances quietly after Kaius, his pistol drawn.

* Charging down the corridor, Kaius slashes wildly at the ghul.  Taken by surprise the grave-spawn's belly is sliced open by the Insomnolent's sword.

Kaius Alexander - Prepare yourself, ghul. You will die now for your trespass in this place.

The ghul laughs hideously.  A mad light has entered his eyes.  He clutches his entrails in one hand and jeers at Kaius and Tarim.

* Tarim moves about, circling the pitched melee like a carrion bird, his pistol carefully levelled at the gaunt figure of the ghul axeman. Seeing an opportunity for a clear shot opened, his bony finger yanks at the trigger, releasing a shot that echoes loudly throughout the corridor.

The ghul cackles and ducks to one side, dodging the shot.

Distracted by Tarim's blunderbuss shot the ghul doesn't notice Mr. Carver sneak up behind him and jab a knife into his kidney.  Shrieking in sudden pain the grave-spawn writhes, while Carver steps in for a second slice, this time severing his jugular.  A slow, viscous jet of blood pumps from the ghul's neck, pooling sluggishly.

* Mr. Carver twirls his blood-spattered knife deftly.

Kaius Alexander - And now we have no more loose ends.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Pyrotechnics]* Kaius Alexander flicks the blood from his blade and sheathes it, then turns around and heads back to the common area.

Kaius Alexander '" Now, we must prepare for the return of our guests.

Tarim - Indeed. Time to start thinking about how to make best use of the explosives we've acquired.

Kaius Alexander - Would you be able to trigger them remotely, Tarim?  Through some arcane means?

Tarim - Possibly by a spell. Although I'd bet that Eareg would be better at that.

Mr. Carver - Again, I think we should pay heed to the fact that closed spaces and explosives don't mix well.  I do not desire to be buried alive no matter how much I might enjoy your company.

Kaius Alexander - Mr. Carver, you misunderstand. These explosives will be placed without.

Tarim - Hiding them might not be so easy there.

Eareg Maar - A shot from Meteor might detonate them.

Kaius Alexander - Yerroch, will your associates ascend the pathway in columnar formation?

"Yes, though if there aren't any guards they'll suspect something amiss.  There's a signal - a flash of a hand-mirror."

Mr. Carver - But they will be forced to climb the path and we will have the element of surprise on our side.

Kaius Alexander - It would be a simple thing to partially conceal them in the cliff wall.

Tarim '" Hmm.  We could set two charges so that they are caught between them.

Kaius Alexander - Yes, my thoughts exactly, Tarim.  Are you confident in your ability to make the shot, Eareg?

Eareg Maar - If I have enough time to set up the shot it shouldn't be a problem.

Mr. Carver - Perhaps you would have a clearer path for your shot if you hid outside the eyrie, Eareg?

Eareg Maar - Depends on where we place the explosives.

Tarim - Let us go and take a good look at the scenery, then.

Kaius Alexander - I will trust in you then, Eareg.  Yerroch, will you be able to signal the all-clear for your associates?

'Aye.  Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice.'

Kaius Alexander - No. That you do not.  I will say that should you survive, and should you remain loyal to us, there will be a weighty purse in it for you.

'I like the sound of that.  You know, if you unbind me, I can help in a fight.  I still have plenty of spells crammed in the old cranium...'

Tarim - We're not going to trust you that much.

Yerroch grins.  'Fair enough.'

Kaius Alexander - If I deem it necessary, we may do as such.  For now, Tarim is correct.

Mr. Carver - Also, if your friends reacts as if something is amiss prior to us triggering the fireworks we can only assume you've sent them a little dirty message.  We can't answer for what will happen to your familiar then. I'm sure you understand.

Yerroch nods.  'I've seen you lot in action.  Even in a fair fight I'm not sure I like my erstwhile companions' chances.'

* Kaius Alexander ascends to check the upper chamber they have not yet examined.

* Mr. Carver  follows Kaius.

This enormous, vaguely cylindrical cavern has walls covered in pictograms, a hugely extensive collection of graphical tales.  There are no words or captions, only images painted in dark, deft strokes, stylized depictions of wars and love-making, births and deaths, demoniac bargains, descents into the Netherworld, the founding and destruction of cities, the forging or shattering of mythic weapons, the slaying of ravenous horrors, the rape of beautiful women, the marriages of heroes and heroines, the judgment of dead souls, the wrath of slighted gods, the seizing of ancient treasures, the wars of barbarian princes, the conquests of emperors, and a hundred other sagas, cycles, stories, and fables, scrawled vastly across the smooth dun stone.

Kaius Alexander - Interesting.

Mr. Carver - Impressive as well.  I'm sure a few sages would like to get their hands on some etchings.  Not the time for that now, though.

Kaius Alexander - No. It is not.

* Kaius Alexander exits the room and go back down to the entrance.

* Mr. Carver waves for the others to follow as he heads down to investigate the larder.

Tarim - The murderfolk can starve to death here far as I am concerned.

Kaius Alexander - Mr. Carver, Yerroch has assured us they are firmly secured.  Is that not right, Yerroch?

Tarim - Not that we couldn't hasten their demise if it will make you feel more at ease.

Yes.  At the bottom of a pit, quite unscalable.  We have to throw down a rope ladder to let them out.'

Mr. Carver - And yet people escape from imprisonment from time to time.  Are you really willing to take those chances with the odds we already face?

Eareg Maar - If we leave them, the jatayi would probably thank us.  BY the time they return there'll be a roomfull of fresh corpses waiting for them.

Mr. Carver - I don't know if they eat the fetch.

Tarim - Wispy doesn't seem to like the taste of them, though.

Kaius Alexander - You see, Mr. Carver. Not a problem.

Tarim - They'll know as soon as they take so much as a bite.

Mr. Carver - I say we check the larder anyway. I'm fine with leaving the fetch in their hole

Kaius Alexander - You may if you wish, Mr. Carver. Do not fall in.

* Mr. Carver smirks.

Mr. Carver - I'll try not to.

* Mr. Carver goes to check the larder.

Half a dozen bedraggled humans squat in the gloom at the bottom of a forty foot pit here.  Shafts of light penetrate the darkness from small holes in one corner.  One of the wretched-looking individuals looks up and speaks to you.  His face is gaunt, his frame emaciated, his eyes gleaming.

"Gods be praised!  Can you get us out of this hole?"

Mr. Carver - I can, yes, but I won't.

"Huh.  Some rescuer you turn out to be..."

Mr. Carver - Well, to be fair you are not quite a prisoner in the common sense of the word. Neither are you really human.  Well, enjoy your stay.

* Mr. Carver closes the door behind him and returns to the others.

Kaius Alexander - Tarim. One of your tattoos gifts you with a true shot, if I remember correctly. Would you be able to synchronize with Eareg if we found you a suitable weapon?

Tarim - I think so, if I can find a suitable spot to aim from.  It'll have to be fairly close.

Kaius Alexander - Let us see what arms these bandits had to hand.

* Kaius Alexander goes to look for a rifle in the loot room.

* Tarim follows Kaius.

You find a repeating rifle of decent make, and an antique single-shot weapon.

* Tarim looks for blunderbuss ammunition.

You find twenty-five blunderbuss cartridges and powder.

Kaius Alexander - Your preference, Tarim?

* Kaius Alexander holds up the repeater and the musket.

Tarim - The rifle should be useful for shooting at the explosives.

* Kaius Alexander tosses it to him.

* Tarim grabs the rifle.

Tarim - No problems with the range, then.

* Mr. Carver takes forth his bone flute, pilfered from the chambers of the magus Ezekiel Khaan.

* Mr. Carver sits and tries to sound the flute.

An eerie, warbling sound emerges from the flute.  A small rat skeleton on the floor has jerked to sudden unlife, but the moment you stop playing, it reverts to inanimacy.  The corpse of the bandit with Wispy's bolt in its throat was unaffected, however.

Mr. Carver - Hmm, interesting.

* Mr. Carver -tries playing for longer.

The rat revives again and scurries to and fro.  Mr. Carver, you continue to play, but the flute squeaks shrilly and the rat skeleton vibrates and explodes in a cloud of bone-dust and fragments!

Mr. Carver - Hmm, maybe I should have Tarim check this out.
 
* Kaius Alexander and Tarim return from the treasure-room.

Kaius Alexander - Let us place the explosives, then, and set in to wait.

'I possess a small glamer that would guise the explosives as rocks,' Yerroch offers.  'You would, of course, have to unbind me for me to cast it...'

Kaius Alexander - Very well, Yerroch. I will place faith in you.

* Tarim I will see to it that he casts what he says he will, and nothing more.

* Kaius Alexander unbinds Yerroch's hands.

Kaius Alexander - Let us see to the explosives.

The witch rubs his wrists and grins.  'You have my thanks.  No chance of retrieving my familiar, I take it?'

Kaius Alexander - When your friends have been dealt with.

* Tarim twiddles with his newly acquired rifle, eyeing the human witch

Mr. Carver - Tarim!  Do you by any chance know how to play the flute?

* Tarim invokes Sense Witchery, then turns to see what Carver is on about.

* Mr. Carver holds up the flute.

Mr. Carver - Seems to have some necromantic properties

Tarim - Is that so?

Mr. Carver - Although I'm not sure if it only works on small creatures.

* Tarim takes a close look at the instrument.

The flute radiates strong necromantic auras.

Mr. Carver - Still, this was formerly held by a strong witch so I can't imagine he would keep it around without reason.

Wispy - I might be able to produce a tune or two.

* Mr. Carver hands the flute to the bird-man.

* Wispy plays a rousing, raucous tune.

Tarim - I will have to examine it more carefully when we have the time.

Mr. Carver - Here's another one for you.

* Mr. Carver holds up the black gem.

* Mr. Carver holds up the cestoid globule as well, for good measure.

The black gem lights up with conjuration wards, while the cestoid shows evidence of arcane transmutation, and some kind of stasis spell.

Tarim - Interesting. I think it might be possible to reanimate.

Mr. Carver - I'm thinking it might go with this.

* Mr. Carver takes the staff from his back.

Mr. Carver - The staff enlarges and reduces the size of creatures.  I got it during my recent excursion with Wispy.

Tarim '" Ah.  A most useful device. The gem is definitely hexed also.

Mr. Carver - See if you can figure it out.

* Mr. Carver hands the gem to Tarim.

* Tarim pockets the gem.

* Kaius Alexander places the explosives along the path leading up to the eyrie and motions for Yerroch to cast his illusion.

*Eareg Maar notes the location of the explosives carefully.

Yerroch bows and flexes his long fingers, then begins to weave them in an intricate pattern.

* Tarim observes Yerroch cast his glamer.

He hisses an incantation.  The air shimmers as the glamer coalesces.  The explosives are convincingly disguised as small piles of rocks.

Kaius Alexander '" Excellently done, Yerroch.

'I might point out that the bloodied corpse of one of my compatriots is currently attracting flies at the base of the eyrie - it might be a bit of a tip off.

Kaius Alexander - Ah yes, I am used to the presence of a certain larval companion to deal with such things.  Come, let us remove the remains.

* Mr. Carver helps carry the bodies.

* Kaius Alexander returns to the mouth of the eyrie after helping Carver and Zaszicar dispose of the corpses.

Tarim '" (to Zaszicar) Better get our captive bound again. He has done what was needed of him.

* The lilix inclines his head and binds the witch again.  Yerroch rolls his eyes.

'This is truly excessive.  Have I not proved myself trustworthy?'

Mr. Carver - You have simply proved that you are not completely untrustworthy. That is different.

Tarim - Only a fool would be trusting you in our place.

Kaius Alexander - My companions are of a paranoid temperament. I am sure they will warm to you shortly.  Eareg, Tarim. I trust in you to make your shots.

Eareg Maar - I have a good vantage from here.

* Kaius Alexander exhibits the ghost of a smile.

Mr. Carver - Perhaps we should escort Mr. Yerroch to the rear chambers?

'Very well, I suppose.  But when the bullets start flying you may regret your decision.  If large men aren't punching me in the teeth I'm actually quite handy in a fight.'

Mr. Carver - But on whose side?

Yerroch snorts.

Mr. Carver - I suspect we can only trust you when the numbers turn out to be in our favour and not your former companion's.

Zaszicar - Several of us could remain inside, in a defensible position.  I'll put the witch in the room upstairs; he should stay out of mischief there.

Kaius Alexander - Very well, Zaszicar.  A sound division of forces.

* The lilix swordsman drags the protesting witch upstairs.

* Kaius Alexander oils and sharpens his sword while he waits for events to unfold.

* Tarim looks for a good firing position; a clear shot for the explosives and cover to hide behind.

Wispy - Someone should make ready with that mirror, so that the bandits don't suspect anything.

* Kaius readies a mirror scavenged from the dead bandit guards.

Night is descending; the swollen sun dips towards the ragged horizon, and a bruise-purple twilight darkens the sky.  A cloud of dust is evident in the distance - the approaching raiding party, returning from whatever bloody excursion they were on.

* Eareg Maar has a cloak drawn over him and covered with dust.

* Kaius Alexander grunts quietly.

The bandits are drawing close to the eyrie.  There is a flash from the leading horseman.

* Kaius Alexander flashes in return.

* Tarim quietly invokes a Vanishment glamer, becoming effectively invisible while he takes aim for the explosives.

The bandits begin their ascent of the spire.

Kaius Alexander - Tarim, Eareg. Remember to place your shots for optimal destruction. Wait for the first segment of the column to pass.

The first group of heavily armed warriors moves into your sights, Tarim - hardened looking men with bows and blades and crude guns, a few non-humans and grave-spawn mixed in.  This group is closely followed by several wagons laden with goods; there look to be some more wagons near the rear, but you can't see them yet.  The leader is a grizzled human gunslinger with a scarred, weather-beaten face and a long, unkempt hair.  He is armed with a pair of heavy pistols.

* Tarim invokes his True Strike tattoo and fires as the caravan passes the glamered explosives.

* Eareg Maar does the same.

Your shots are perfect!  There is an enormous boom as fireworks erupt out of the cliff in a spectacular blossom of light and flame!  Screams fill the night and flaming corpses are thrown into the air.  Horses and camels squeal in terror; wagons explode; splinters of wood fly everywhere.  A huge section of the path is also destroyed, and more mounts and warriors topple from the cliff to their deaths below.  A handful of warriors are alive, having escaped the worst of the blast.  They are trapped.  Some of the rearmost wagons are also intact, but it looks as if the rearguard riders are actually retreating in a panicked dash.

Kaius Alexander - Hm.

* Tarim ducks back behind the cover of the rocks, grinning wickedly.

* Eareg Maar likewise emerges, firing Meteor at the remaining warriors.

The bandit leader emerges from the flames, singed but alive.  He rides up the path like a demon from the lowest Hells.

* Mr. Carver looks to see if Kaius takes any action.

* Kaius Alexander steps out of the cave, pistol levelled at the rider.

* Tarim emerges from hiding, his clawed hands drawing eldritch patterns in the air, his tongue hissing words of witchcraft.

* Tarim utters a final word of power and a black cloud of oily, oozing smoke erupts from his mouth, descending rapidly down the slope until it reaches and engulfs the trapped bandits.

Several of the bandits are nauseated, retching violently.  One drops his weapon and writhes on the ground.  The brigands choke and splutter, temporarily disabled by the eldritch smog.  Fireworks continue to spark and band, sowing confusion.

* Mr. Carver aims Ezekiel Khaan's staff at Uzrim's horse and activates it shrinking hex.

The horse is instantly shrunk to the size of a small cat.  Uzrim, the grim bandit gunslinger, looks suddenly surprised and falls over prone.  The tiny horse canters way, having just avoided the man's fall.  The bandit leader manages to avoid toppling off the cliff - narrowly.  He grips to the ledge only feebly.

Three of the bandits ride up the cliff.  One takes aim at Kaius, another at Tarim.  Kaius is only grazed but Tarim is badly wounded as a bullet buries itself in his shoulder.  Dark blood gushes viscously from the wound.

* Tarim dives back into cover, cursing loudly and grasping his shoulder.

* Kaius Alexander aims with his revolver and shoots Uzrim's hand.

The bandit leader cries out in pain and nearly slips from the cliff, but with a supreme effort of will he hauls himself up with his remaining hand, scrambling to his feet.  He snatches up one of his pistols and fires at Mr. Carver in one smooth motion, hitting the graftpunk in the thigh.

* Wispy flies out of the cavern and fires bolts down at the nasueated bandits, pinning one to the ground with a heavy quarrel.

* Eareg Maar picks off one of the fleeing riders with a flaming bullet from Meteor.

* Zaszicar advances down the path, blades singing, and runs one of the surviving bandits through.

* Tarim grits his teeth and gathers his wits, invoking Mirror Image in spite of the pain of the bullet wound.

* Mr. Carver staggers towards Uzrim, ignoring the wound in his thigh, and and swings his glistening, demoniac tentacle at his feet.  The brigand wavers but stays on his feet.

One of Tarim's duplicates vanishes as a bullet passes through it.

* Kaius Alexander charges and impales the bandit leader through the chest.  Blood bursts from his lips.  Badly burnt, shot, and now stabbed, Uzrim falls to the ground, dying.

Seeing their leader dead the other bandits turn to run.  Wispy picks one off.  Zaszicar dispatches another brigand and Eareg Maar executes another.  The battle is won.

* Kaius Alexander pulls his blade out smoothly, flicks the blood from it, and sheathes it.

* Mr. Carver strides purposefully down the path and casually slits the throat of one of the bandits still standing.

* Tarim cocks the repeating rifle and takes aim at one of the fleeing bandits, letting loose shots.

* Kaius Alexander chambers a new round in his revolver calmly.

Kaius Alexander - Let us see what remains of their wagons and goods.

The bandits that seized Shan-Szut are now dying, dead, or fled.  A skillfully laid trap, facilitated by the arcana of a turncoat witch and some deft shots from the party's ghilan marksman, crippled them before they could respond effectively.  The path is nearly obliterated halfway up - descending will be difficult, and treacherous, though not impossible.  The wagons are in poor shape.  Some near the rear look to contain cages full of prisoners of some kind.  Others have been blown apart, the goods within shredded and ruined.

Mr. Carver - Fetch?

One of the prisoners coughs.  "We're no murderfolk!"

Mr. Carver - I really wish there was some way to know for sure...

Tarim - We should take no risks with them.

Kaius Alexander - Zaszicar, retrieve Yerroch. Perhaps he will know.

* The lilix fetches the witch.

* Kaius Alexander unbinds Yerroch.

Mr. Carver - There is a chance they are merely slaves: travelers in the wrong place at the wrong time.

'No clue,' Yerroch says, unhelpfully.  'Could be slaves, could be a bunch of redmouthed psychopaths.  Fetch're a cunning bunch.  They could be faking.  There's no physical way to tell - until one of them is chewing on your liver.  All I can say is, they didn't head out with any murderfolk.  If these are fetch, they're new.

Kaius Alexander - Hm.  Prisoners. Tell me. What leads you to be in this situation?

"Our caravan, en route to Macellaria, was ambushed.  We were taken as slaves."

Kaius Alexander - I see. Well, we will speak more of this later. We have business to attend to back inside.

Zaszicar - Why don't we ask Uzrim?  The bastard's still breathing - barely.

Kaius Alexander - Oh?  Curious.

The bandit leader is coughing blood.  A pool of it is spreading below.

Kaius Alexander - You, Uzrim. These prisoners, where did you obtain them, and for what purpose?  I will make your death clean and quick if you answer truthfully.

'Slaves,' Uzrim coughs raggedly, spewing moreblood down his front.  'Taken in a raid.  Please, kill me swiftly.  The pain...'

* Kaius Alexander places his revolver at Uzrim's temple and pulls the trigger.

Kaius Alexander - If he lies, there would have been no way to extract such information in his state.

* Kaius Alexander holsters his revolver.

Mr. Carver - I'd say he was in no position to lie. Deception does require some forethought.

Tarim - A bandit lord who surely held nothing but spite for his killers.

Mr. Carver - Hm, I stand by what I said, Tarim. I know both pain and lies so it's only fair I can tell when they mix and when they don't.

Tarim - Well, if you're going to set them free, I say we send Yerroch with them.

Kaius Alexander - I assured Yerroch he could return to the city in our company.  That will not be possible, Tarim.

Tarim - I will not travel with him.  If they are truly slaves, he'll have some company on his way through the Slaughter-lands. If fetch, well...

Kaius Alexander - Then we will ride a suitable distance behind you and camp separately. I can not renege on my word.

'I'll take my chances with the captives,' Yerroch says.  'Better them than this redmouthed wormy.'  He nods at Tarim.  'I'm heading back to Macellara.  Had enough of banditry for the time being '" Herreku can rot.  Perhaps I'll try guarding caravans instead of attacking them.  First, though, I need some time in Velveteen Circus.  I've had enough of dust and sodding battles; time for drink and bedchambers instead...'

...

The sun sets and the waste grows as cold as the dead bandits that trail from the cavern-mouth of Shan-Szut, as if the eyrie had vomited them from its hallowed depths.  The party camp in the caves for the night and make preparations for the journey back to the City of Bodysnatchers.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ooc]Hopefully this sets the stage well for the game's resumption.[/ooc] [ic=Coda: 'Demon's Child']They sit in their private box in the Hollow Skull Playhouse, courtesy of Sebastian Defoin: a tatterdemalion band, the wounds they suffered on their journey still unscarred.

Eareg Maar lounges in the rear, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his plush chair.  He misses the wasteland, its brutal simplicity, its dichotomies of hunter and hunted, its clean, merciless rules.  Here, in the city, things are less clear.  Instead of the honest mercilessness of the desert there is chaos: a labyrinth of intrigues and conspiracies and inane social conventions, of bickering factions, of hazy power-networks quite at odds with the soothing tooth-and-claw dynamics of the Slaughter-lands, the reassuring tenets of predation and survival.  Meteor was confiscated at the door; he longs to hold the ensorcelled rifle in his hands.  The memory of Sebastian Defoin haughtily insisting on the eldritch weapon's appropriation makes the scavenger grimace.  A strange fire seems to burn in his eyes as he watches the play unfold.

In the front, Tarim, the party's other grave-spawn, watches the play incredulously, tut-tutting its innumerable technical blunders, its grotesque misunderstanding of all things arcane.  The production's very premise is deeply flawed '" demons and humans cannot interbreed, for the love of the gods!  He enjoys the theatricality of the performance despite these glaring inaccuracies, gemstone prostheses glittering in the darkened theatre.  His spidery fingers drum a languid rhythm against the balcony rail; his eldritch tattoos seem to squirm subtly beneath his un-living flesh; Fangs nips playfully at his ear.   The bullet-wound at his shoulder, taken at Shan-Szut, itches beneath its plaster.  Idly, the ghul witch ponders his recent discoveries, the esoteric passages of his journal he deciphered the previous evening '" a spell of uncanny genius penned by a past self.  The thought of his quick incarnation's journal makes him recall the secret police of Marainein, the dread Inquisitors and the avaricious priesthood.  They will still be trying to reclaim the book's dread secrets.

The shadowy creature called Mr. Carver sits behind Tarim, next to Eareg at the back of the box, his strangely variegated body obfuscated by the velvety gloom.  He toys with a small knife, smuggled effortlessly past the guards, and flexes the demoniac tendril on his shoulder.  Though the 'man' was once quite human, you wouldn't know it to look at him.  He looks more like some monster from the eastern wastes: bulbous insect eyes and twitching limbs grafted onto his lean, sinewy frame, face and hands pocked with old chemical burns, he sits and contemplates the plays themes of transcendence and otherness, abjection and suffering, transformation and taboo.  Perhaps more than the others he appreciates 'Demon's Child' '" he too is the product of a dysfunctional familial environment.  An actress shrieks and pierces her breast with a prop knife and a great gush of blood bursts from her bosom, where a hidden packet must have been concealed.  Idly observing this splattered spectacle Mr. Carver smiles and muses on his next metamorphosis.

Kaius Alexander sits unmoving, still as a statue.  Inside his head the zehrer spasms.  Its tendrils continue to embed themselves, to mesh with his own synapses, with his veins and arteries, with his nerves and ganglia.  His attention is fixed not on the play but on a figure in a box opposite, on the other side of the Hollow Skull Playhouse, a mountainous man garbed all in red: Servius Izar, favourite of the House of Untainted Flesh and killer of Gorethirst, the party's erstwhile comrade, fallen in the Pits of Pulsetown to Servius' maul.  As with Eareg and the others' weaponry Kaius' blade and pistol were confiscated at the door, and Servius is surrounded by companions: attacking him here would be suicidal, the collateral damage considerable.  The former Insomnolent Guard bides his time with almost preternatural patience.  He will avenge the leechkin's death soon enough.

The jatayi known most often as Wispy laughs at inappropriate times, squawks glib jibes and witty retorts down at the actors onstage.  The vagabond fabler seems to be enjoying himself tremendously, though the bouncers are beginning to eye the box with disapproval and mutter to one another.  The itinerant thief and hex-slinger guffaws with gusto and takes a hearty bite of ever-so-slightly rancid meat procured from a vendor outside, swigs the cheap wine sold at concession.  Are his clowning and buffoonery a façade concealing a melancholy persona beneath, or is the bird-man's comic lunacy quite genuine?  Whatever the case he remains something of an enigma '" coming and going as he pleases, irreverent and frequently obscene, forever on the run from wronged females, outraged property owners, and other victims of his vices.  Beneath his clothes the sigils carved into his flesh glow with a strange, infernal light.

One seat is empty; Gorethirst, the valiant if brusque leechkin gladiator, would have sat there.  The pit-fighter's absence is almost palpable: even in the short space that the rest of the band knew it the leechkin proved itself an honourable and dependable companion.  On the other side of the city, the creature's sibling, the self-styled Mr. Rasp, silently toasts his fallen brother-sister with a cup of warm blood, squeezed from the veins of one of the murderfolk.  The tainted draught compounds the Guildmaster's bloodlust, his rage.

Zaszicar, the group's brief addition, has departed the city again, in search of his legendary blades.  Yerroch, the turncoat magus who proved useful in the defeat of his one-time comrades, slipped away into the bustle of Macellaria soon after the group returned to the Maggot City, though not before exchanging words with Kaius.  The slaves liberated from the bandits (who proved, fortuitously, not to be fetch shock troops, as some of the party suspected), have likewise dispersed.  Keen-Nose, the brigands' pet zerda, slipped off one night on the journey home, vanishing mysteriously with a few pilfered rations and trinkets gleaned from the bandits' treasure-horde.

As for the jatayi, they have returned to their eyrie.  Their more enlightened leader, Jullthar, promised the band the troupe's eternal gratitude, while the conservative elders sneered in the background.

The last actor falls to the stage; the bloody drama concludes.  Though 'Demon's Child' is a dark comedy rather than a tragedy there is something ominous about its ending, its lack of resolution.  The titular abomination remains at large, despite the bumbling efforts of the play's ill-fated antagonists.

But for now, the curtain falls.  The actors take their bows.  Backstage, the playwright strokes his chin and plots the next nightmare.[/ic]

[Nomadic]

I loved it and want more so badly. Steerpike have I ever told you that you should write a book? Oh btw just want you to know that I like how true you're staying to Eareg without me there, that takes some skill to stick to what a player envisions for their character like that.

[LD]

The jatayi known most often as Wispy laughs at inappropriate times, squawks glib jibes and witty retorts down at the actors onstage.

Whatever the case he remains something of an enigma '" coming and going as he pleases, irreverent and frequently obscene, forever on the run from wronged females, outraged property owners, and other victims of his vices. Beneath his clothes the sigils carved into his flesh glow with a strange, infernal light.[/quote]

...That's about spot-on. :D

[Superfluous Crow]

must. play. more. CE.
And yes, please do write a book! It can't possibly be anything other than awesome.
The hellish misadventure of Wispy had quite a different tone as compared to the other scenarios we've gone through, but then again, that is to be expected from Wispy.
I really got to convince one of my friends to read these logs at some point, it's an entertaining story.  

[Steerpike]

[blockquote=Conundrum Crow]The hellish misadventure of Wispy had quite a different tone as compared to the other scenarios we've gone through, but then again, that is to be expected from Wispy.[/blockquote]Yeah, I wanted it to feel more absurd and farcical than other sections, just to make the section feel a bit more Wispyish.

[Superfluous Crow]

Wouldn't mind seeing a more serious walkthrough of CE's Hell at some point.

[LD]

It was serious--Wispy could have died!

Wispy has this to say to you: "Gleet you Mr. Carver! Gleet you indeed! I walked to Hell and back. Respect my achievement!"

[Superfluous Crow]

Well, a few paragraphs on Hell in Steerpike's own words then.
And didn't you say it was his second time? :p

[Steerpike]

Hmm, thought I'd posted here but it appears the internet wasn't cooperating.

I'll do a write up of how I see the Hells sometime, but basically I see them as parallel dimensions rather than prisons or torture-realms for damned souls.  They're not afterlives, they're alternate universes whose denizens are so strange and horrifying that the inhabitants of this plane think of them as demons.

In terms of imagery, I think of Hell very much along the lines of Wayne Barlowe's surreal interpretations of Dante's Inferno, with a fair bit of H.R. Giger and Hieronymous Bosch thrown in.

[Steerpike]

Part Three

Rigor Mortis

[ic=The Tower of Moans]Having hired a pair of mantid mechanists as assistants, Kaius Alexander sets about augmenting his armour with a clockwork exoskeleton as well as a built-in flamethrower and maintenance automaton.  This ambitious project '" which costs several thousand obeloi, depleting the Insomnolent Guard's significant funds almost entirely '" takes many weeks to complete.  Night after night the pallid warrior can be found hunched over the intricate machinery, piecing together each delicate component with a gentleness one would not expect from such a brutal fighter.

At last, after days of toil, the armour is complete.  A simple wind-up mechanism on the chest-piece powers up the armour for twelve hours; gears whirr, coils tauten, cogs tick.  The armour is bulkier than it used to be but will increase the warrior's physical strength.

* Kaius Alexander stares at his completed armour placidly.

* Kaius Alexander turns to the mantids.

Kaius Alexander - Satisfactory.

The mantids chitter to one another in their insectile speech.

* Kaius Alexander hands over their money.

Kaius Alexander - I may have need of your assistance again in the future. We shall see.

They nod in thanks and depart.

* Kaius Alexander dons his armour and steps outside.

Every movement the Insomnolent Guard makes is accompanied by the drone of his armour's clockwork additions.

* Kaius Alexander goes to seek out the witch, Yerroch, heading to Velveteen Circus.

You find the witch in a dim alehouse, draining absinthes and watching the dancing girls.

* Kaius Alexander walks up to him and lays his armoured hand on the witch's shoulder.

Kaius Alexander - Yerroch. We have work to do.

The thin man turns and raises an eyebrow.  The tattoos on his arms seem to writhe in the dim lamplight.  His broken nose has been set but still looks askew, and the bruises on hs face are yellowing.

 * Kaius Alexander raises his visor.

"You again," the witch grumbles.

Kaius Alexander - I recall informing you I may have use of your services in the future.

"Mmm.  Suppose you did at that.  What can I do for you, precisely?"

Kaius Alexander - We are securing a... certain property.

"That so?  What kind of property?"

Kaius Alexander '" A forsaken spire. Grave-spawn district. Purportedly occupied by haunts of some sort.

* Kaius Alexander pauses.

"Ah, the Tower of Moans.  Got an evil reputation, it does.  I'll be requiring a bonus to go in there. And we'll need a scroll or two to create eldritch silence while we're there, or else the damn geists'll infect us both."

Kaius Alexander - I had anticipated such.

* Kaius Alexander hands Yerroch a pouch of fifty obeloi.

"Looks good for payment - it'll keep in booze an' fancy girls for a few days, anyway.  We can stop by the Hexwarren on our way for those scrolls."

* Kaius Alexander nods slowly.

Kaius Alexander - Mageries are not my area of expertise. This is why I have hired you. We shall obtain the scroll you need.

"Very well.  Guess I'll just stuff my fingers in my ears if we run out."

* Kaius Alexander exits the tavern.

Yerroch follows you out and leads you to a scroll-seller in Hexwarren '" a gaunt human witch who sells his wares from a rickety cart drawn by a juvenile dire maggot currently feeding from a trough of carrion.  The man demands one hundred and fifty obeloi for a scroll containing the appropriate hex.

* Kaius Alexander pays the witch.

Suitably equipped, you head to the Worm-Hive.

You stand before a solitary tower rising out of the middle of a forsaken square, as if the other buildings were afraid to touch it.  Its huge brass doors have been chained shut, its windows boarded up.  Graffiti has been painted on the pale stone walls - words of warning and gruesome skulls.

Kaius Alexander - I have brought wax. If we require its use, it will be of better effect than your fingers.

* Kaius Alexander hands Yerroch a glob of wax.

"So, what's our plan of attack?"  The serpentine tattoos on the witch's arms seem to writhe as he stretches.

* Kaius Alexander examines the building.

Kaius Alexander - We clear from the bottom up. We will leave no creature alive, should we find any.

"Straightforward, brutal, efficient.  Sounds good to me."

Kaius Alexander - Remain behind me unless I instruct otherwise.

"Hey, that's fine with me.  You're the one sheathed in steel from head to toe."

* Kaius Alexander walks up to the door and feels the chain. His armour hisses and clanks.

The chain is extremely rusty.  Parts of it flake away in your gauntleted hands.

* Kaius Alexander pulls it apart.

The door creaks open a little, its hinges shrieking.

Kaius Alexander - These geists. Do you have any experience with such creatures, Yerroch?

"Not much - we fought them out in the wastes, sometimes.  Imbecilic creatures: they don't fight like you or me, or even fetch.  They won't stop trying to infect you till they're dead."

* Kaius Alexander grunts.

* Kaius Alexander steps inside. His footsteps ring from the walls.

Through the doors is a once-resplendent anteroom with a central spiral staircase of rusting metal disappearing into the ceiling and descending into the floor.  Old blood-stains and scorch-marks mar the flagstones, tapestries rot on the walls, and the stubs of candles gather dust on candelabras.  The windows have all been boarded up.  From upstairs you can hear the echo of rasping voices.  There are some charred bones scattered about the chamber as well.

* Kaius Alexander surveys the room.

Kaius Alexander - We should proceed beneath. We do not want to be surprised by what may lurk below.

Yerroch gestures and speaks a hissing syllable.  His skin glistens and erupt with snake-scales; his eyes become slitted and reptilian.

"Good idea."

* Kaius Alexander draws his blade and descends the staircase.  Part way down he lights his lantern.

The staircase terminates in a vaulted anteroom whose ceiling is shrouded in cobwebs.  Three arched doorways lead away.

* Kaius Alexander pauses to listen.

You don't hear anything other than the scuttling of rats.

Kaius Alexander - Yerroch. Do you hear anything?

"I think there's something down that passage."

The witch points to the right-hand corridor.

Kaius Alexander - And what do you think it is?

"Dunno.  Sounds like a voice - maybe one of the geists."

Kaius Alexander - Perhaps. Let us see what there is to see.

The witch looks frightened.  His yellow eyes dart to and fro.

Kaius Alexander - Do not falter in your duties, Yerroch. We will be fine.  

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm with you, damn it."

* Kaius Alexander strides down the rightmost passage.

A gaunt, bedraggled figure floats a few inches off the ground here.  Resembling an emaciated corpse garbed in decomposing rags, the grave-spawn constantly mutters and babbles to itself in eerie sing-song.  Its eyes are worm-eaten pits, and a huge gout of crusted blood spills down its front from its ruinous mouth.  

The room seems to have been a large workshop.  Half-finished projects have rotted away on the slab-like tables: chimera spliced together out of different body parts and tattooed with glyphs, now reduced to desiccated mummies and malformed skeletons, inked, preserved flesh fragile as paper.  Various arcane equipment, much of it still intact, adorns the stone shelves of this room: organs preserved in pickling jars, esoteric machines, bones carved with glyphs, scroll tubes, and similar miscellanea.

The gibbergeist turns and drifts towards you, its horribly jinx an unceasing litany of madness and mutancy.

* Kaius Alexander charges at the creature, leaping over a slab-table.

Yerroch whips out the scroll you brought along and quickly invokes the sigils upon it.  An eldritch silence fills the chamber, silencing the grave-spawn.  The scroll sizzles with arcane energy and the marks on it vanish.

The geist floats mindlessly towards you, clawing at your face and chest.  Its claws scrabble at your visor, somehow flipping it open and raking across your face!

* Kaius Alexander stumbles backwards, tripping over one of the skeletons and falling in a cloud of bonedust.  He slams his visor shut.

The geist leaps atop you with grisly glee.

* Kaius Alexander wears a nonplussed expression underneath his visor.

Yerroch yells silently and fires his crossbow.  The quarrel strikes the geist in the forehead.  It ignores the attack completely and continues to maul you, but fortunately your armour deters it.

* Kaius Alexander throws the geist off and lumbers to his feet.  He grabs up his sword '" fallen to one side '" and thrusts, impaling the grave-spawn through its stomach.

A great burst of corpse-gas and fluid gushes from its torso.  The creature staggers but remains floating.

Yerroch takes aim again...

* Kaius Alexander exhales in frustration, silently.

A second bolt strikes the grave-spawn, this time in the upper chest.  It flails madly, trying to strike you, but you dodge aside.

* Kaius Alexander hacks at the creature with unbridled brutality.

With a final strike you cut off the horror's head.  It does not bleed - its heart ceased to pump long ago.  For a moment the head continues to soundlessly gibber, then it falls still.  The geist's body collapses, smashing some of the equipment in the workshop in a silent explosion of glass and dust.

* Kaius Alexander spits through the gap in his visor onto the corpse of the geist.

Yerroch makes a gesture and the silence dissipates.  "Well, that wasn't too bad."

Kaius Alexander - I suspect there is nothing in this tower with the power to stop me.  As I said, we will be fine.

* Kaius Alexander looks over the workshop.

Kaius Alexander - This will do. I think.

You cannot make heads or tails of most of the equipment.  You find several scrolls preserved in leather cases, and some bits and pieces intelligible only to one skilled in witchcraft.

"Hopefully any more we encounter will be solitary, like this one."

* Kaius Alexander nods to himself

Kaius Alexander - Yerroch. What do you make of these?

* Kaius Alexander gestures to the scrolls.

Yerroch investigates the various scroll-tubes.  "Looks like a fleshcrafter's workshop to me.  These scrolls would be used to animate dead flesh.  I could raise the geist's corpse to create a primitive servitor, if you want."

* Kaius Alexander lowers his head for a moment.

Kaius Alexander - Yes, let us do that.

The witch nods and stoops, inscribing several crude glyphs on the dead flesh of the geist with his punching dagger.  He speaks a word of power from one of the scrolls and the sigils on it vanish as the spell is invoked.  The headless corpse twitches to un-life once more.

"Good cannon fodder, anyway."

* Kaius Alexander observes the proceedings silently. The ghost of a smirk passes over his face as the corpse rises.

Kaius Alexander - Let us hope it is of use. Come, this miscellany can be catalogued at a later date. We have yet more work.

Yerroch nods.

* Kaius Alexander pauses to listen again at the junction.

You don't hear anything else down here.

Kaius Alexander - Let us be thorough. This will take only a few more moments.

* Kaius Alexander proceeds down the central passage.

The passage ends with a heavy iron door engraved with wards.


* Kaius Alexander turns to look back at Yerroch

"We'll need a key.  These are beyond my craft to dispel.  Good news is, there probably aren't any geists in there."

Kaius Alexander - An edifice of some effort... most like worth investigating. Someday.

* Kaius Alexander proceeds back to the junction and strides down the left passage.

A short passage ends in a cave-in here.

Kaius Alexander - The basement has been scoured, then. Upwards.

* Kaius Alexander ascends to the second floor.

Bookshelves, some of them overturned, line the walls of this room, their contents strewn across the floor.  Some look to be grimoires, others almanacs and gazetteers, still others books of anatomy and medicine: whoever owned this tower previously clearly had a scholarly bent.  As with the other windows in the tower, the windows here have been boarded up.

* Kaius Alexander looks around for anything of interest.

Many of the books are in a language you do not understand.  All are highly fragile.  There aren't any objects of practical use here.

* Kaius Alexander raises his visor and scowls at the pages.

Kaius Alexander - Upwards.

You hear voices from the next room.

* Kaius Alexander looks to Yerroch.

"More geists, I think.  Shall I send our macabre friend up first?"  Yerroch jerks a thub towards the headless servitor shambling behind them.

Kaius Alexander - Can you glean any information from him remotely?

"Not a jot.  But he might serve as a distraction."

* Kaius Alexander pauses.

Kaius Alexander - Then send him up.

Yerroch nods and orders the zombic thing upstairs with a Hextongue command.  The decpitated servitor shuffles up the stairs.  There is a rasping sound, and scuffling noises.

Kaius Alexander - Wax, Yerroch.

* Yerroch applies the wax into his ears.

* Kaius Alexander does the same.

* Kaius Alexander proceeds up the stairs.

Two more of the foul gibbergeists loiter in this room, which contains a few old pieces of furniture, mostly cabinets and mouldering leather chairs.  Both creatures are grappling with the decapitated grave-spawn Yerroch raised from the dead.  The geists rip at the servitor's necrotic flesh.

Yerroch invokes a spell, and eldritch serpents fly from his fingertips.  One of the geists staggers as they writhe about it.

* Kaius Alexander raises his right arm. There is a metallic clank as a panel rapidly flies open. A noxious scent fills the air. Click. A roaring gout of flame flies towards the geists as they grapple with the servitor.

The geists are set aflame, as is the servitor.  They stumble about and twitch, setting the furniture alight.

* Kaius Alexander grins beneath his visor as the geists crackle and spit .

The geists finish off the servitor, which collapses in a flaming heap.  Yerroch uses the same hex again, and the same serpents fly from his fingertips and into the warped body of the nearest gibbergeist.  The grave-spawn explodes violently, splattering the walls with charred bits and pieces.

* Kaius Alexander hurls aside a flaming chair and hacks at the remaining fire-blackened geist, carving it up as he would a roast fowl.

Impossibly, the monstrosity still clings to un-life, continuing to chant its infectious curse.  Yerroch is beginning to mouth seemingly random words.  He stands idly, staring at the geist, his eyes glazing over.
The surviving gibbergeist rakes at your helmet, but your visor protects you.

* Kaius Alexander dispatches the grave-spawn with a disdainful swipe of his blade.

Yerroch ceases his mad gibbering.

* Kaius Alexander turns quickly.

The witch shakes his head.

Kaius Alexander - Are you alright, Yerroch?

"Fine, now that that horror's properly dead."

Smoke is beginning to fill the room.  The bodies and some of the furniture is still on fire.  Yerroch moves to one of the windows and begins breaking the boards that cover it.

* Kaius Alexander beats at the flaming couch with the blanket from his kit.

After some time you put out the flames, and the smoke dissipates through the window.

Kaius Alexander - Smooth enough. So far. Upwards.

A '˜mundane' corpse - not a geist at all - lies in a pool of dried blood to one side of this chamber.  Totally decomposed, the cadaver's skull is pierced with a single hole, and a wheellock pistol lies near one of its skeletal hands.

This room seems to have been a study, or office of some variety, judging by the prominent writing desk, lamp, and grandfather clock (in sore need of re-winding).  Lying on the desk is a small silver key and a silver manacle connected to a chain, in turn connected to a metal hoop or collar.  There's one floor above you.

Kaius Alexander - What do you make of these items, Yerroch?

* Kaius Alexander indicates the desk.

"The manacles?  Sort of thing you might use to chain a familiar, I suppose.  Magisters of Skein use some such"

Kaius Alexander - Interesting.  The key, perhaps for the sealed door in the basement.

"The key might be to the manacles."

Kaius Alexander - Ah. Right. A key for such a door would not be stored so casually. Even in death.

* Kaius Alexander goes through the desk drawers.

Mostly you find masses of indecipherable arcane notes.  You also find a weighty tome of some kind.

* Kaius Alexander leafs through it.

It seems to be a manual for the construction of complex servitors.

Kaius Alexander - The work of cataloguing the contents of this spire will take me some time, I see.  Perhaps I shall call on the assistance of Tarim. He may be interested in some of these scribblings.

* Kaius Alexander rolls his shoulders.

"That patchy bloke you travel with might like a peak as well."

Kaius Alexander - He might.  We still have more work.

* Kaius Alexander picks up the wheellock pistol.

* Kaius Alexander shrugs and places it on the desk.

Kaius Alexander - And yet again, upwards.

* Kaius Alexander starts up the stairs.

The final floor comprises a bedchamber.  Unlike the floors below this room seems to be mostly intact, with rich furnishings - a bed, chest of drawers, and beside table, as well as a telescope by the window.

* Kaius Alexander looks around .

Kaius Alexander - Suitable.

You find a large iron key in the bedside table drawer.

* Kaius Alexander tosses the key and catches it.

The chest of drawers is full of old finery, still fragile and somewhat rotten but relatively well-preserved compared to some of the other objects in the tower.

* Kaius Alexander wanders over to the window.

"Looks like we got all the geists."

Kaius Alexander - It seems so. You have done well, Yerroch.

* Kaius Alexander looks through the telescope.

It is pointed up towards the sky, towards the demon star, Algol.

"Mind if I bugger off then?' Yerroch interjects.  'Or do you still need my services?"

Kaius Alexander - I do not require more of you at this time, but may call on you again, if you are amenable to such an arrangement.

* Kaius Alexander tosses him another five obeloi

"I'll be at the Circus, most likely.  Thanks for the tip."  Yerroch heads down the stairs and out of the tower.

* Kaius Alexander nods.

* Kaius Alexander presses a button on the inside of his gauntlet. A metallic pyramidal shape detaches from his back and hits the ground with a clank. Eight spindly legs unfold from well concealed panels.

Kaius Alexander - Go. Clean the mess on the floor below.

The construct chirps and scuttles away.

* Kaius Alexander tosses the key in his hand again and looks at it idly.

Kaius Alexander - ...Perhaps a quick look.

* Kaius Alexander proceeds down the stairs and to the basement.

You stand before the glyph-graven door.

* Kaius Alexander looks down at the key in his hand. He hesitates momentarily, but then twists it in the lock.  He pushes open the door.

Mystic sigils are engraved in the floor of this room.  Standing at the center of their eldritch concatenations is a tall, slender creature.  Naked and sexless, the being's skin is translucent, revealing a variety of strange, inhuman organs and muscles beneath its flesh.  A pair of curving ram's horns erupt from its scalp, its mouth is filled with long, needle-sharp teeth, and its nails are delicate talons several inches in length.  In place of hair, a mass of gently writhing tendrils bursts from behind its head, flowing down around its sinewy body.

"Hello there," the entity greets you.

* Kaius Alexander raises his visor.

It regards you inscrutably.

Kaius Alexander - I am Kaius Alexander. I have taken possession of this spire.

"I see.  You may call me Pellucid - my actual name is rather long, and unpronounceable to humans.  I was, at one time, the minion and familiar of Magister Orlando Petrifax - perhaps his name is still remembered in the city above?"

Kaius Alexander - I cannot say I am familiar with that name. Though perhaps I have heard it.

"Do the Watchdogs still guard the gates of the city?"

Kaius Alexander - They do. Yes.

"He created them."

Kaius Alexander - He must have possessed great power then.

"Considerable power, yes.  Enough to bind me to his will, as you can see - even after all this time.  I honestly cannot say how long I have been down here.  I'm trapped in the summoning circle: my master was unable to release me before geists overran the tower.  They came from the Catacombs - there's a connection through the basement of the tower, perhaps collapsed or otherwise sealed by now, judging from the sounds I heard outside."

Kaius Alexander - What are the circumstances of your binding?

"I have resided on this sad excuse for a reality since the Membrane Wars, if that means anything to you.  For centuries I wandered the world, watching it decay, until Petrifax found me and bewitched me with a word of power.  Since then I have been his slave: a condition I gradually became accustomed to."

Kaius Alexander - Unfortunate.

"As to my master's downfall, I can only speculate as to what happened, but based on the sounds I heard above, my master slew a great number of the grave-spawn.  Presumably he simply ran out of hexes after a time, or succumbed to the geists' incessant, maniacal gibbering; if he'd fought them off successfully I wouldn't have been forsaken so."


Kaius Alexander - In the chambers above there is a body. Long decayed. Dead of a single gunshot wound.

"Possibly he killed himself upon realizing that the transformation had begun."

Kaius Alexander - I would imagine that likely.

"So.  I suppose you are my new master, Kaius Alexander... Or will you release me from servitude?"  The thing regards its long, razor-sharp nails idly.

Kaius Alexander - I am not sure. Tell me, were I to release you, what would you do?

Pellucid cocks its head.  "I am not entirely sure.  Search for a way back to my home, I suppose; or else return to simple vagabondage.  Perhaps this world has grown more interesting since I last roamed its surface."  It chuckles.  "Though I rather doubt it."

Kaius Alexander - You are probably correct, though I do not have the depth of experience that you do. I could not say.

"From where do you hail?  Are you a native of this city?"

Kaius Alexander - No. This city is not my home, though perhaps it will be.  I am from the north. The Sleepwalkers City.

"Ah.  In my day the Lords and Ladies Revenant held sway there."

Kaius Alexander - And to this day, they do.

"Does the empire of the wormfolk remain as well?"

Kaius Alexander - It is long buried. Few cestoids now remain.

"Good riddance: a vile people.  Unseemly in form and in mind, in the likeness of their '˜god,' as they referred to it."

Kaius Alexander - So long as their numbers do not increase, I am not concerned.  Pellucid. Tell me this. Were I to take you into my service, what force would compel you to remain as such? I suspect that you possess a considerable power of your own.

"Indeed.  I take it you are not a magister yourself?"

Kaius Alexander - I command no mageries. No words of power.

The demon licks its lips with a long, purple tongue.

Kaius Alexander - But, as such, I do not know that I am capable of releasing you from what fetters you, either.

"A simple incantation will deactivate the circle.  Since I am bound I cannot speak the words: but you will find them amongst my master's formulae, I am sure.  As to my continued servitude, I can only supply my oath."

Kaius Alexander - Do you desire to be free, Pellucid?

"I would be grotesquely dishonest to claim that I didn't; but I would consent to servitude if it meant I could leave this circle."

* Kaius Alexander exhales slowly.

Kaius Alexander - I must think on this, Pellucid. Regardless, I do not currently possess any words to change your situation.

"If you must leave me here awhile longer, may I at least request something to read?  The long ages have been tedious beyond comprehension."

Kaius Alexander - That is a favour I can grant to you. What is your interest?

"Frankly almost anything would do: perhaps one of my former master's texts, if they have survived."

Kaius Alexander - Perhaps. I will see what I can do and return shortly.

* Kaius Alexander backs out and, closes and locks the door, and proceeds to the library.

The books here are so old that they are disintegrating.  They flake apart at the slightest touch.

* Kaius Alexander raises his visor and narrows his eyes.

* Kaius Alexander goes upstairs to retrieve the tome of fleshcraft.

You get the book out.  It's far better preserved than the mouldering grimoires in the remains of the library.

Kaius Alexander - This will have to do.

* Kaius Alexander returns to the warded chamber.

Pellucid greets you with a toothy smile.

Kaius Alexander - This text will have to serve.

* Kaius Alexander slides it across the floor to Pellucid.

The demoniac familiar picks up the text and begins to leaf through it.

Kaius Alexander - Satisfactory?

"This will suffice.  You have my thanks, Kaius Alexander."

* Kaius Alexander inclines his head slightly.

Kaius Alexander - I will return within the next three days. After I have given proper consideration to your situation and gained the necessary knowledge to alter it.

"Prudent of you.  I eagerly await your return."

* Kaius Alexander backs out again, and closes and looks the door.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ooc]Dramatis Personae and Quest Log updated.[/ooc] [ic=Reunion]Things are much the same in the Maggot City.  The marketplaces bustle with the trade of exotic flesh, of tattooed slaves, of relics from a thousand derelict cultures.  Pestilence has broken out in Resurrection Row, and the Militia has quarantined whole blocks of the slums, but the outbreak has had little effect on the rest of Macellaria.  The jatayi have moved northwards, much to the gratification of Sebastian Defoin, proprietor of the Hollow Skull Playhouse in Pulsetown.  Rumours of a mysterious individual moving into the long-forsaken Tower of Moans are swapped in the taverns and ghul-bars; the doors of the Tower are no longer chained shut, and a light has be glimpsed between the boards that cover the windows.  Others gossip of a shadowy creature half-glimpsed at night from the city walls, a prowling thing of great size and unknown origin and intention.  The Watchdogs have begun howling during the sunless hours, disturbing the city's sleep.

Otherwise, the routines of Macellaria continue as usual.  The Robber Guilds continue their endless bickering over scavenging rights, while the Thief Clans scrap over turf within the city itself.  The annual carnival known as the Reaper's Feast approaches fast: a grand celebration of obscure origin, in which the grave-spawn residents of the city take to the streets in uncharacteristically jubilant revelry while the quick inhabitants stay indoors, burning black candles in their windows and leaving offerings of animal flesh and blood (sometimes their own) in bowls on their doorsteps for public consumption, lest they offend Death itself and so be marked for his harvest.  Games in the Fighting Pits and other minor events precede the festival, which is now but a few weeks away.

...

Tarim, after hours of study, research, and active experimentation, you have discovered the function of several arcane artefacts procured over the course of the party's adventures.

The ornate, warded bracers Yerroch wore '" which have the appearance of intertwined serpents with emerald-inlaid eyes copulating and devouring one another '" have two spells woven into them.  The first endows the wearer with protection, giving their flesh the toughness and resilience of snake-scales.  The second exerts a powerful affect on nearby snakes, making the wearer attractive to serpents.

The bone flute is a powerful object infused with necromantic puissance.  In the hands of a capable player the flute can reanimate the bones of the dead, which can then be directed by the musician.  The flute has no effect on fleshly bodies, however '" skin and muscle, even when decayed, blocks the effect.  If the player ceases his tune, the skeletons created immediately revert to lifeless bones.

The black gemstone is an extremely well-made talisman that can be used to imprison and compel demons.  The gem currently has three 'inmates': a trio of unpleasant, bickering imps that refer to themselves Gallflower, Seepstone, and Cankertongue.  The jewel could be used to trap and compel other demons, though there is a limit on the number of beings the gem can hold (dependent on the power of the trapped spirits).

The cestoid globule is especially strange.  It contains a fully proportionate cestoid that has been miniaturized via arcane means and then placed in stasis.  If the orb were shattered the stasis spell would resolve, but the miniaturization would not.

...

Kaius, you're in the midst of cleaning up your newly acquired tower when you hear a knock at the door.

* Kaius Alexander pauses.

Kaius Alexander - Curious.

* Kaius Alexander checks the rounds in his revolver, then proceeds to the door.

A wiry man with a badly scarred face stands at the door, garbed in nondescript black robes; a glyph-covered dwarf servitor stands behind him, holding a small, wooden chest.  It takes you a moment to place the living man, but eventually you recognize him as the bedraggled man you saved from the waxborn back in the Fighting Pits.

"Kaius Alexander, is it?"

Kaius Alexander - It is. You are the man I encountered in the Pulsetown Pits.

"Yes.  I owe you my life.  My name is Raakhir: I was thrown into the Pits due to a petty misunderstanding with one of the Robber Guilds.  I have not come, however, to discuss my past, but to thank you properly.  My employer, a woman of considerable means, wishes to express her gratitude for my safe return."

The diminutive corpse-thing beside Raakhir holds out the chest, which rattles with bone obeloi.

"She would also like to offer you and your companions an opportunity that may lead to far richer rewards: word has reached her of your little band's exploits, and she is considerably impressed.  If you and your comrades-in-arms would be interested in employment, come to her home in Sarcous Square, on the border of Velveteen Circus and Hexwarren, just off Graze Street - the building of dark stone, on the west side of the Square.  Introduce yourself to the major domo and he will admit you.  I advise you to come tomorrow night: my mistress keeps late hours, and often sleeps during the day."

Kaius Alexander - I appreciate this reciprocation. And I am always seeking new... business opportunities.  We will be there.

"Excellent.  Good day to you, sir, and thank you again."  The man bows deeply and departs.

* Kaius Alexander inclines his head, and closes and locks his door.

Meanwhile, in the Hexwarren, Mr. Carver examines grafts in Needlefingers' tissue-shop...

You are in the Emporium of Metamorphoses.  As you peruse Needlefingers' selection of pickled body-parts and whip-stitched oddities, the effete fleshcrafter minces towards you, his teeth glistening in a gruesome, if sincere, smile.
"Back again I see, Mr. Carver," the witch unctuously coos, stating the obvious.  "It seems that every time I see you I have a new favour to ask, but seeing as you've been so helpful in the past, I wonder if I might trouble you with another small request - there'd be a gratis graft in it for you, of course."

Mr. Carver - Let's hear it then.

"As you may be aware, many of the raw materials for my Art are gleaned from fleshtree groves in the area south of the city.  The Treeherds have reported a disturbing disruption to their usual harvest, however.  Goreflies, whose depredations are usually confined to regions further to the south, have appeared in great numbers; the vampiric insects have been draining whole copses dry.  For some reason the usual migration patterns of the sand-rays have changed: something is driving them further north and west than they usually tarry, up out of the Firesong Marches and into the vicinity of Macellaria.

'The Treeherds need hired swords to ward off the gorefly swarms while they move their groves out of the sand-rays' path.  Right now they have herded their fleshtrees into the Gash Arroyo, but fear to move the grove from this haven into open country.  If they don't move them soon, however, the autumn rains may flood the Gash and kill the fleshtrees anyway.  In short, they require an escort.  Any trusty cleavers you happen to know of would also be compensated by the Treeherds if they wished to assist, of course.  If you can, head to the Gash at dawn tomorrow.  Goreflies sleep inside their hosts during the day, so the Treeherds will want to move the grove while the sun's up as much as possible."

Mr. Carver - Very kind of you to present me with this opportunity; we'll look into it.

"Thank you, Mr. Carver!'

* Mr. Carver leaves the tissue-shop and goes in search of his old comrades, beginning by searching the taverns and ghul-bars in Hexwarren.

* Mr. Carver walks briskly through Macellaria to the Blood of Saints.

The tavern glistens with gilt.  The demoniac barkeeper '" fettered to the rune-carved bar itself '" winks at Mr. Carver as he enters.

* Tarim is already in the tavern, biding his time seated in a side-booth, with a glass of blood-wine in his clawed hand.  He has arranged to meet Kaius Alexander here to discuss some matter the former Insomnolent Guard seemed concerned about.

* Mr. Carver moves up to his booth and sits down opposite him.

Tarim - Ah, good to see you Carver.

* Mr. Carver holds up a hand and shakes his head solemnly when the waiter asks if he desires a refreshment.

Mr. Carver - Good to see you too.  Haven't seen you since Defoin's play have I?

Tarim - Indeed. I've been busy at work.  I have news for you, regarding the items of yours I've been studying.  Though it took quite a bit of cross-referencing of obscure sources, I've managed to uncover much about these artefacts.

Mr. Carver '" Oh, I would be most interested to hear what you discovered '" although my own humble inquiries and inquisitive experiments did result in the uncovering of some minor details concerning their function.  But please go on; my interest remains piqued.

Tarim - The flute , as you already know, reanimates the dead.  This is not the most typical necromantic spell though, for it cannot cope with the burden of rotting flesh

Mr. Carver - But what else?  Does it command them?  Do we need to hire an expert flutist? And what about the recently deceased?

Tarim - Only clean bones can be made to obey the flute.  If you removed the flesh from a recent corpse, then the flute should work.

Mr. Carver - Reasonable, do carry on.

Tarim - The flute does require some skill on the part of the player, though knowledge of hexcraft is not necessary, though it might augment the bewitchment.

Mr. Carver - Sadly, I don't know a single artist I would entrust with a skeleton army. An untrustworthy bunch, they are.  What about control?  Do they just prance about?

Tarim - The cadavers will only remain animated as long as the flute is played.  They can be controlled, with the necessary musical skill.

Mr. Carver - Hm, how so?

Tarim - I have not given it a try myself, seeing as I am no flutist.

Mr. Carver - Maybe we should let our dear friend Wispy try again.  Now, next item on the list

Tarim - Yes, the black gem.

* Wispy stumbles into the bar, brushing past a pallid Ghul. Wispy's face is white and desiccated-looking.  His flesh appears to be peeling off.

Mr. Carver - Ah, speaking of the devil.

* Mr. Carver waves Wispy over to the booth.

* Wispy jaunts over to Carver and covers his mouth with his hand.

Wispy (whispering) '" Hey Carver... how's my disguise?

Mr. Carver - Your... disguise?

* Wispy glares.

Wispy - What, don't I look dead enough for you?

Mr. Carver - You look thirsty, but I can't think what good that disguise would do you.

Wispy - Ah, but you forget!  The best night of the year is almost upon us!

Mr. Carver - Ah, now I see.

Wispy - Free food will be distributed throughout Macellaria! For those who are in the area!

Mr. Carver - Well, you can always escape to a roof if the others figure it out and decide you are a snack and not a spectator.

Tarim (ignoring Wispy) - The gem is for containing and compelling demons. It currently holds three of them, though they are rather weak little pests.  The jewel is most useful if you ever must bargain with the devil-kin.

Mr. Carver - Ah, I wonder if Lamia was merely a little pest too? Or if the warlock thought to take his deviltry to the next level...

Tarim - As for the globule, it merely seems to contain a shrunk cestoid in a stasis.  You could free the cestoid by breaking the globule, but it would remain in it's abnormally small size

Mr. Carver - Nothing our little staff couldn't solve. How would it be inclined toward us?

Tarim - Impossible to say

Mr. Carver - No handy little enchantments woven into it? I'm not sure I want to release a murderous worm monster who might consider us its captors rather than its saviours.

Tarim - That would indeed be rather risky.

Mr. Carver - Could the gem do anything useful?

Tarim - The gem can compel the demonic, as I said.  And also to trap them within itself.

Mr. Carver - How so?  If we meet one and wave the gem at it we can compel it to hold the door for us? Or will it simply be sucked into the gem?

Tarim - It requires the use of the hex that binds demons. One I do not possess, I might add. A most useful item for demonologists and the like.

Mr. Carver - I don't rightly understand it.  Of course, it is witchcraft, so I'm sure I'm not expected to... So basically it is useless to us?

Tarim - Not necessarily. I would not sell it if not a for a good price, myself.

Mr. Carver - The globule could of course always work wonders as a distraction.

* Kaius Alexander steps through the door. His armour hisses, clanks, and ticks. He lifts his visor to scan the room; his face seems even paler than usual.

* Kaius Alexander spies Tarim and the others, and seats himself with the group.

Kaius Alexander - Tarim. I did not know the others would be here.

Tarim - Ah, greetings Kaius.  I did not invite them, but chanced to meet them.  I hope this is alright with you?

Kaius Alexander - I see. Unanticipated, but perhaps serendipitous.

Mr. Carver - Our lost friend from the Sleepwalkers' City! How has Macellaria been treating you since last?

Kaius Alexander - The city is as ever. Hot, loud, and rife with a thousand unpleasant smells.

Mr. Carver - That does sound like my home.  I have heard my little rats whisper that you've acquired a humble abode for yourself?

Kaius Alexander - I have obtained some property in the intervening time, yes. That is why I have come to meet with Tarim.

Mr. Carver - And new armour too?

Kaius Alexander - Yes. It serves its purpose.

Mr. Carver - Mechanical and cold. Suits you.

* Mr. Carver smirks at his joke.

Tarim - Makes you even more willing to throw yourself in harm's way?

* Tarim chuckles, and sips some wine.

* Kaius Alexander raises an eyebrow.

Wispy - You did not know the others would be here? You're ill-informed, no?

* Kaius Alexander looks at Wispy but says nothing.

Wispy - And get with the contractions... don't instead of do not; I've instead of I have.  Welcome welcome though.

* Wispy bows.

* Kaius Alexander 's face twitches momentarily.

Mr. Carver - Yes, I apologize for the spree of insults. It's the Macellarian way I'm afraid.  You'll get used to it now you're a resident.

Tarim - Oh, and Carver, regarding the demons already bound within the gem. They can be compelled without the need for external hexes. Quite useful.

Kaius Alexander - As to why I have requested your presence here, Tarim. I have encountered certain mystical oddities within my property.  I would appreciate your consultation in such matters. Within the next two days.

Tarim - I trust these... oddities are of a kind where my knowledge could be useful?

Kaius Alexander - It will not be onerous. It is academic. Merely your assistance with the cataloguing of some scrolls of the previous owner.

* Tarim nods.

Mr. Carver - I also came looking for all of you with a job proposition

Kaius Alexander - Is that so, Mr. Carver?

Tarim - What sort of a job have caught your interest?

Mr. Carver - My associate Mr. Needlefingers has instructed me that a group of Treeherds have been beset by a plague of pests and mysterious migration patterns.  They want us to check it out.

Kaius Alexander - As long as there is suitable compensation, I do not object.

Mr. Carver - If we want the job we should make for the Gash Arroyo at dawn tomorrow.

Tarim - Hm, Needlefingers. Figures he might throw us a discount if we can be of help for his business.

Kaius Alexander - In a similar vein, another opportunity has presented itself to me. Assuming we finish this... shepherding... in a timely fashion, meet me in Sarcous Square tomorrow evening.

Mr. Carver - I was told the Treeherds would compensate us. They make a good living from their grotesque herds and right now the entire harvest is in danger as I understand it.

Tarim - And where are these Treeherds as of now?  Close to the city?

Mr. Carver - Gash Arroyo.  I know every alley in the city, but I would be hard-pressed to give you a more accurate description of their location.  Maybe we can find a guide somewhere near, or a map.  I'm sure the compensation will cover any expenditures.

Tarim - Well, we'll see

Kaius Alexander - I will leave such preparations to you, Mr. Carver. I will meet you at the gate an hour before dawn.  

* Kaius Alexander pushes back his chair and stands up.

Mr. Carver - I'll see you then.  What business have you, yourself?

Kaius Alexander - All you need know is that a great deal of obeloi is involved.  I trust that is enough.

* Kaius Alexander inclines his head to the group, lowers his visor, and leaves.

Wispy - Mysterious migration patterns; of pests or of the lesser-minded avians?

Mr. Carver - Larger. Sandrays and their miniscule companions.

Wispy - Ah! The shaik-toruch and goreflies.

Mr. Carver - You know much of them?

Wispy - When I traveled south to Macellaria I ran into a herd.

Mr. Carver - I must admit I know more of men and their ilk than monsters.  Dangerous are they?

Wispy - They're night beasts and generally fine during the day.

Mr. Carver - But at night?

Wispy - Night's a fright.

* Wispy winks.

Tarim - Good thing that we're to meet up just before dawn, then. Even though I do dislike the sunlight.

Wispy - Yeah, the sunlight's probably gonna melt my ghul-makeup too.

Mr. Carver - I'm sure a parasol will suit you nicely.

Wispy - Ooh, good idea. I'll get one too! We can be matching!

* Tarim shakes his head and downs the rest of his wine.

Tarim - I will meet you at the Eel's Gate, as agreed. Until then.

Mr. Carver - Until then, Tarim.

* Tarim gets up and leaves.

* Mr. Carver gets up as well.

* Mr. Carver puts on his coat and walks out the door.

* Mr. Carver calls over his shoulder.

Mr. Carver - Wispy! Come with me. We are going to the gate.

Wispy - Okay Carver, but lets get a parasol first!

Mr. Carver, as you leave you see a large, six-legged, chitin-plated beast lying outside the bar and gnawing on a bone.  It seems to ignore passersby and does not appear especially dangerous, but it is a strange sight to see...

* Mr. Carver raises an eyebrow.

* Mr. Carver circles the strange creature, eying it with his round, bulbous eyes.

Wispy you find a local who gives you directions to the Gash - it's about an hour and a half south and west of the city, just off the Weeping Way.

* Wispy walks over to pet the creature.

* Mr. Carver restrains Wispy.

Mr. Carver - Any idea what it is?

Wispy - C'mon Carver, Oneiroi, let's go to the Gash.

* Wispy whistles and walks off in the direction of the Gash.

Mr. Carver - Oneiroi?

Wispy - Yeah, "Oney." You haven't met? Oney, Carver, Carver, Oney.

* Kaius Alexander returns home, retrieves his automaton, feeds and prepares Conveyance, and having slept earlier in the day, settles in to wait for the appointed time.

Mr. Carver - ...you know the creature?

Wispy - That's a little obscene, Carver.  I am "acquainted" with Oney. I do not "know" him in that sense.

* Wispy puffs up his chest.

Wispy - Just because you don't know about Jatayi culture... really now.

* Wispy shakes head.

Mr. Carver '" Yes yes, make your jokes birdman, but how did you get "acquainted" with this thing?!

Wispy - Oh, Oney and I met in Hell.

Mr. Carver - ...in Hell?  And he just took a liking to you?

Wispy - He tried to eat me and I told him about how I'm a great and powerful servant of a demon and he started following me... or was it that I was a great and powerful servant of a mage and that I eat demons when I rage... I can't really recall; all I know is it involved a fall.

Mr. Carver - That, Wispy, might be the single best first impression you have ever made.

* Wispy shrugs

Wispy - I'm good with beasts.

Mr. Carver - So I can see.

Wispy - So, then onwards we shall go? If you see any parasols, umbrellas, visors, brolleys, rainshades, sunshades, gamps or bumbershoots, you tell me.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Incandescence]Meanwhile, the scavenger Eareg Maar slips away from the City of Bodysnatchers, heading south to the Firesong Marches...

You have departed the city of Macellaria once again, having agreed to retrieve a relic of the Poxbringers from Chymalea, the City of Creeping Flesh.  The air of the waste, though heavy with dust and the radiation of ancient weapons, rejuvenates you; the scarified sky, pregnant with storm-clouds, rumbles as if welcoming you home.

Without a party of companions to slow you down you make good time heading south along the Weeping Way, a centuries-old highway winding through scabrous scrub and patchy, tepid marsh-land, a muddy slough where small hagman settlements wallow half in, half out of stagnant pools and gaunt fishermen pull wicker cages from the muck, hoping for lampreys or crayfish.  You cross the Tendril first - a sluggish trickle of a river, little more than a moist smear across the otherwise arid landscape - and then the Gland, further to the south.  Such are your skills that you evade the predators that roam these semi-settled lands with ease.  Any bandits hiding along the roadsides do not show themselves, doubtless discouraged by the heavy rifle slung across your back and the cold fire in your eyes.

Firesong Marches will provide no such reprieve from danger: the vicious southern desert is a place without mercy, where only the strongest survive.  The shifting dunes lay before you, seemingly endless, a sea of sand and stinging wind.  Scavengers don't come here often, preferring to trawl the ruins of Dour Erg and other regions, for the Marches quickly swallow buildings and other remnants of civilizations: the capricious and all-consuming sands yield their buried treasures but rarely.

The map you took from Cräen shows the approximate location of the City of Creeping Flesh, but between you and your destination is a trackless wilderness infested with sand-rays, distrustful nomads, and nameless malevolencies.  You must also contend with the elements, for there is little water and less food to be had here, and the gaze of the red sun scorches all it touches.

This is not going to be easy...

* Eareg Maar shields his eyes from the blowing sand as he examines the map.

The map shows that you need to head deep into the waste to the southeast.

* Eareg Maar continues on towards the southeast, though he examines the map for anything pointing at water along the way.

The map shows a few scattered oases, but these are few and far between.

* Eareg Maar bites on the tip of his pipe thoughtfully as he rides on making for the nearest water hole near his path.

The night is bright, with a gibbous moon.  A huge beast appears at the top of a distant dune somewhat to the north of you - a giant tortoise the size of a small house, a ramshackle howdah balanced precariously atop it.  The creature's shell glints in the moonlight.  Heading to the tortoise will divert you somewhat from the nearest oasis, but not substantially.

* Eareg Maar 's curiosity piqued he cautiously heads towards the tortoise to get a better look.

Eareg Maar - Wonder who else would be out here in these forsaken wastes...

 As the enormous tortoise draws closer you see that several foxfolk mounted on ornery-looking ostriches keep pace with the creature.  The tortoise's shell is painted and etched with a thousand crude glyphs; charms and fetishes are draped across its bony bulk, as well as strings of beads and jewels.  Hand-holds are carved into its shell, allowing access to the howdah, itself ornately decorated, swathed in vividly patterned silk curtains.

* Eareg Maar - having gotten a better view - decides that there's nothing of much interest and turns openly and casually back towards his path to the next oasis.

You hear a yapping noise; the zerda riders seem to have spotted you and sprint towards you on their ostriches.  They wield shortbows with bone arrows, but do not fire.

* Eareg Maar casually pulls out Meteor but does not point it at them, waiting for them to arrive.

The zerda surround you, eyeing you suspiciously, knocking their arrows and pointing them towards you.  They wear a few oddments of hide armour decorated with feathers and small gemstone insets.  They bark at one another in their crude, bestial tongue.  The slow-moving tortoise heads towards you.

* Eareg Maar puffs on his daily allotment of pipeweed.

Eareg Maar - Can I help you?

They do not seem to understand you, but you hear a responding voice from the tortoise: "Perhaps, traveler, perhaps."

A hunched, pale-furred figure barks some command at the zerda warriors as she emerges from the howdah and lowers herself carefully down the hand-holds in the turtle shell.  Venerable but still agile, the ancient zerda is an albino, with pure white fur and pink eyes.  Talismans of bone, fur, and stone dangle round her neck, and dozens of hoop earrings jangle when she moves. Her clawed fingers are likewise ornamented with ruby-studded copper rings, and a fine copper chain runs from a piercing in her nose to one of her oversized ears.  The claws of her fingers and toes are lacquered and painted with cursive glyphs.

"Forgive my attendants," she says in accented but otherwise flawless Shambles.  "They are untrustworthy, and with good reason - they probably believe you one of the dread carrion jinn taken human form, prowling for fox-flesh, or else one of the walking corpses from the Greylands to north."  She completes her descent and hops down to the desert floor with surprising nimbleness.

 Eareg Maar - Ah well, they could be forgiven for seeing me a walking corpse.

* Eareg Maar flashes his sharp teeth in a grin.

The zerda pads over towards you.  She grins back, and her teeth flash white in the moonlight.

"I am the magus N'leng Kthanka.  And you?"

* Eareg Maar removes his wide brimmed hat.

Eareg Maar '" I am called Eareg Maar, of Macellaria.

She eyes Meteor curiously.  "Your rifle - I sense a spirit bound within it.  And based on the sigils you wear on your skin, you are a witch of some skill.  I wonder if you might assist me."

Eareg Maar '" Perhaps.

* Eareg Maar slings meteor back onto his back

Eareg Maar - What is it that needs assisting?

"May I offer your some refreshment first, before I explain my predicament?  My howdah is small, but I make up for the lack of space with honeyed tea."

Eareg Maar - that would be wonderful

* Eareg Maar dismounts.

She gestures for you to climb the hand-holds in the turtle shell.

* Eareg Maar climbs up into the howdah.

The howdah is indeed cramped, but richly furnished. N'leng climbs after you and pours tea into two bone cups.  She also offers you a hookah.

"I see that you are partial to the pipe, Eareg Maar."

* Eareg Maar pulls the pipe out of his mouth and laughs a bit.

Eareg Maar - Aye but I won't disrespect your offer.

* Eareg Maar takes a puff from the hookah.

The tobacco is flavoured with rich spices; it is much more powerful than your own blend.

Eareg Maar '" I'll say this is certainly more hospitality than I've been accustomed to out here

As you smoke and drink tea, the magus tells you her story:

"As with many magi I employ a number of elementals as servants and warriors," she begins.  "These entities sometimes wander into the desert from the Blacklands to the south, and can be bound into specially prepared stones or other receptacles.  When their services are needed I compel the bound elemental to manifest and then, using the stone as a conduit for my will, I can maintain control of the creature.  Unfortunately, one of my elementals recently escaped.  A young and clumsy apprentice of mine accidentally shattered one of my gemstones, releasing the elemental within it.  The spirit killed him almost instantly and slew many more zerda before disappearing into the waste.  I have left my tribe to track it down and subdue it to my will, having prepared a new stone to bind it once again."

* Eareg Maar nods.

"So far, however, I have had no success.  I am old: sixty years have passed since I passed from the Dreaming Dark of the Unborn into this world.  My guards are skilled, but cannot trap the spirits themselves - they lack the mark of the magi.  elemental has evaded me: though I believe I am close behind it, I fear I will not be able to catch up with it by tortoise, and I lack the mobility of youth.  You, however, might be able to reach it and subdue it with a spell I can teach you.

'In return, I could trade you a charm that will make you as hardy as a desert lizard, or a whip whose lash carries the venom of a serpent, or a waterskin that will never empty; or, I could teach you spells that scorch with the power of the sun, or that charm the wildest beasts, or that conjure beings of living dust."

* Eareg Maar rubs his chin with bony fingers.

N'leng draws on the hookah deeply and exhales smoke through her nostrils.

Eareg Maar - dangerous, but...

* Eareg Maar takes a drink from the tea

Eareg Maar - ...how could I turn down such a reward '" certainly after tea, and smoke after a long journey?  Sure, I'll see what I can do for you.

"Thank you.  You have not only my gratitude but that of my tribe.  The elemental is a thing of ash and cinders and smouldering coals.  I think it is making for the Blacklands, its home - a place of glass and rivers of liquid fire.  To bind it anew you must first subdue it, then scratch certain symbols in the sand and recite the incantation I will teach you.  I will give you the stone you will need, and a bewitched net that will not be burnt by the elemental's sizzling skin."

She reaches into a pouch and pulls out a fist-sized fire opal and a fine mesh of some silvery, glimmering material like gossamer.

"Here you are."

* Eareg Maar accepts them from her.

"You may be able to track the creature by the scorch-marks it leaves wherever it walks."

Eareg Maar - And you will remain here I assume?

"Do you know of the oasis to the south and west?"

Eareg Maar - yes, actually I was on my way there when we met

"I shall await you there for a day and a night."

Eareg Maar - Then I will find you.

She inclines her head and finishes her small cup of tea.  "Thank you again, Eareg Maar.  I eagerly anticipate your return.  And now, to teach you the rite to bind the elemental.

* Eareg Maar listens attentively and eventually memorizes the spell, copying it into his grimoire.

* Eareg Maar nods to her and exits the howdah.

Eareg Maar '" (to himself) This should be interesting.

The zerda ostrich-riders still watch you uneasily but not longer point their weapons at you.

* Eareg Maar mounts his skeletal steed again and trots off.

* Eareg Maar circles out from the tortoise in search of any signs.

You cast around for signs of the elemental and discover scorch-marks marring the otherwise pristine dun pallor of the desert, fusing the sand into black glass.  The tracks have the shape of behemothic paw-prints.  These you follow south, towards the distant, ominously dark line of the Shadowglass Steppes.

* Eareg Maar puts out his pipe and stows it

The sun rises slowly, as if reluctant.  Red and leaden, it sluggishly makes its way up into the sky.  You continue to follow the tracks of black glass.

* As the sun gets higher Eareg Maar considers finding a place to shelter.

You climb a sand-dune and find a solitary column erupting from the desert; there are no signs of other structures.  The monolith is covered in carvings resembling many hundreds of eyes of various shapes, sizes, and species - some slitted and reptilian, others the dull, round orbs of fish, others strikingly human.

* Eareg Maar looks around and weighs the danger of the day with the possibility of losing his quarry and decides that he would be better finding a creature of fire at night anyhow.

* Eareg Maar makes for the monolith.

As you draw near you feel a strange resonance emanating from the pillar.  Your hair prickles with static energy.

* Eareg Maar pulls up short and stops examining the monolith.

It is of dark stone, almost black - onyx, perhaps.

Eareg Maar '" Ah, Hells' black breath '" not worth risking it for a little shade.

* Eareg Maar sighs and heads back to follow the trail.

Eareg Maar - First rule of the wastes... don't hug strange eldritch pillars.

* Eareg Maar takes a long drink from one of his waterskins and plods on after the trail still looking for shelter.

Despite the desert's best efforts you manage to resist its searing depredations; however, you are thwarted in your search for shelter.  As the afternoon progresses and the sun begins its descent you think you see a glimmer of flame up ahead.  A wisp of smoke is also evident.

* Eareg Maar heads carefully towards it still keeping the trail of black glass in sight.

The trail leads directly towards the source of the smoke.

Eareg Maar - Long day without much rest, but I ain't losing you now.

As you draw nearer you make out a smoking, glowing shape stalking the dunes ahead of you - a creature resembling a prodigious cat with a body of black soot and glowing embers.  Its eyes and maw flare with brilliant orange flame, and a mane of fire blazes round its head.

* Eareg Maar takes the net in one hand and hops off his horse heading stealthily towards the creature.

You creep towards the elemental with the utmost stealth, till you are crouched just behind it, keeping pace as it pads through the desert, leaving a trail of black glass wherever it treads.  It does not see or hear you - or if it does, it does no acknowledge your presence.

* Eareg Maar is taking no chances and as he readies the net a black web of eldritch ooze slides down his arm glowing with a dark and sickly light. A dark line flies from his outstretched arm to the beast, connecting it with eldritch tendrils to the net before the ghul heaves it at the cat.

The net snares the elemental and it thrashes madly beneath the weave, snarling horribly.

* Eareg Maar begins scratching runes into the desert sand.

The elemental tries to free itself but fails.  It roars in frustration.  You can feel the heat emanating off its body.

* Eareg Maar continues with the ritual in a calm focused fashion.

The elemental turns towards you and spews flame from its mouth!  The fire does not affect the net, but passes easily around the weave.  Half of the glyphs you inscribed are obliterated, as the sand is turned to glass.  You are badly scorched.

* Eareg Maar backs up and begins again, scratching more runes into the sand.

The elemental continues to attempt to free itself, but fortunately the net holds.  Frustrated, the creature drags itself forwards towards you, its speed greatly impeded by the net - it is unable to pounce while entangled.

* Eareg Maar mutters the spell N'leng taught him and holds forth the stone.

The elemental resists, digging in its claws.  You can feel its spirit's defiance.

* Eareg Maar takes the better part of valour and moves.

Realizing it cannot catch up with you the elemental continues madly attempting to remove the net.  At last it extricates itself and bounds after you.

* Eareg Maar sprints to his grave-spawn steed and jumps in the saddle.

The elemental is in hot pursuit.  You can outpace the feline creature only barely.

* Eareg Maar spurs the horse on towards the oasis

* Eareg Maar tries to hold the creatures attention without letting it catch him.

The leonine elemental follows you for some time before eventually tiring of the chase; your mount's uncanny constitution ensures that it does not flag.  The flaming spirit turns south, back in the direction of the Steppes.

You slow your skeletal steed to a canter and approach the oasis, a small green patch in the otherwise barren Marches.  N'leng's howdah is parked by a shallow greenish pool.

* Eareg Maar sighs and slips off the steed to plunge his head and torso in the water to cool the burns.

The albino foxfolk descends from her tortoise at your approach.

"Have you bound the creature once more?" she asks when you surface.

Eareg Maar - Nay, the net wasn't enough for him and I had to make for my steed before it overtook me.  Got a few marks for my effort.

* Eareg Maar grins through the pain as he bathes his burns.

"I can see that.  Allow me to apply a poultice.  It will greatly speed the healing process."

* Eareg Maar accepts '" anything to help the pain.

* Eareg Maar coughs.

Eareg Maar - Well that was certainly... exciting.  I'm afraid though that I lost your net

"I may well retrieve it," N'leng says as she applies the poultice.  "The elemental likely let it stay where it fell.  If I follow its footprints I may well get it back.  I would understand if you chose not to continue the hunt.  But perhaps if I lent you two of my guards to distract the beast while you attempted the spell of binding again, you might yet snare my erstwhile servant?"

Eareg Maar - been awhile since I've felt real danger for my life out here... I'm growing fat and lazy.

* Eareg Maar pats his stomach.

Eareg Maar - The offer is appreciated, though I hesitate to put others at risk like that.

"They are willing to die for their tribe: if my tortoise was faster, it would be me putting them at risk, in any event."

* Eareg Maar raises an eyebrow.

"Perhaps if I offered a greater reward you would consider a second attempt?"

* Eareg Maar laughs.

Eareg Maar '" No, my honour's on the line now you don't need to do that.  Perhaps some rest before I try again though.

"That is certainly wise'

Eareg Maar - if your guards are willing...

* Eareg Maar looks at the others.  

Eareg Maar '" They are welcome to come along.

Two of the zerda approach you.  They speak in their native tongue to N'leng.

"They have agreed to accompany you," N'leng translates.  "Did you pass a column carved with many eyes on your way here?  I will meet you there."

* Eareg Maar nods.

Eareg Maar '" Ah that... gave me the chills.

"Do not fear the column - it will do you no harm.  It is some device of elder days, and merely shows strange visions..."

Eareg Maar - Ah well, you will forgive my suspicion '" you don't survive out in the wastes long by being trusting.  I'll meet you there.

You pass the night in tremendous pain, but the magus' poultice is highly effective and by morning your burns have scabbed.  The zerda warriors are up before you and offer you some form of fire-blackened meat to eat.

* Eareg Maar grunts from a stiff back and accepts the meat.

N'leng bids you good luck again and sets off into the desert on her tortoise.

* Eareg Maar sits there for a few minutes and decides to have his daily smoke before starting off.

* Eareg Maar offers the guards the pipe for a puff of their own.

The zerda accept.  One tentatively thanks you in accented Shambles.

Eareg Maar - If we're going to risk death might as well enjoy a few minutes of peace first, eh?

* Eareg Maar mounts up again.

The zerda quickly pick up the trail, and you soon pass the spot where you were nearly cooked alive by the elemental.  The net is intact.

* Eareg Maar stops to take the net.

You press on, following the trail of black paw-prints.  Night begins to descend one more, but now the terrain is changing.  While you are not yet out of the Marches this is the region where the Shadowglass Steppes merge with the desert.  Here and there are plains of volcanic glass; in the distance a few lone caldera smoulder.

As the bloated sun sinks beneath the horizon the elemental once again becomes visible.It is stooped by a sluggish trickle of lava oozing from a rupture in the surface of the desert; it appears to be licking at the molten rock as if it were water...

* Eareg Maar leads the group on towards the beast.

One of the zerda dislodges a small rock as it creeps around, and the elemental tenses, swinging its blazing head towards the noise.

* Eareg Maar moves in and once again creeping tendrils flow down his arm and lance from the net to the elemental as he once again heaves the mesh.

The net snares the elemental and it howls in frustration!

* Eareg Maar moves back away from it.

The zerda warriors reveal themselves and begin firing on the beast.  They shoot their arrows at the elemental but they are swiftly incinerated upon contact.

* Eareg Maar begins to quietly draw the runes, trying not to draw attention.

The elemental snarls and spits flame at one of the zerda.  The foxfolk is scorched by the flames but manages to tumble aside, avoiding the brunt of the attack.  The ostrich-riders continue to ineffectually pelt the thrashing, flaming creature with arrows.  Meanwhile, you finish scratching the runes and prepare to begin the incantation N'leng taught you.

As you do the elemental spews flame again and lights one of the zerda warriors on fire.  The foxfolk shrieks and begins thrashing round on the ground, attempting to extinguish the flames.  Its comrade rushes over to help.

* Eareg Maar, seeing the pain of his fellow, pulls out the stone and mutters the incantation once again.  He pours his will into the stone, concentrating all his energy into binding the spirit.

The feline spirit writhes and is drawn through the meshing of the net into the depths of the fire opal.  The gemstone pulses in your hands for a moment, throbbing with heat.

* Eareg Maar quickly pockets the gem and rushes to help the flaming zerda.

* Eareg Maar bats at the flames with his coat hardly even paying attention to his now burned hand.

The zerda is alive, but badly burned.  Much of the foxfolk's fur has been scorched away, but the creature will survive.  There is a hideous stench of burnt hair and flesh.

* Eareg Maar helps the zerda up onto his ostrich mount carefully.

The zerda staggers a little but stays in his saddle.

* Eareg Maar retrieves the net.

Eareg Maar '" Well, let's get back to your friend and her tortoise '" have her look at those burns.

* Eareg Maar mounts up and leads them off towards the monolith.

The zerda coughs feebly and you turn to ride back out of the ashen waste and into the endless dune sea.

The moon rises, sallow and pockmarked.  You arrive at the column after several hours' ride; the tortoise and the two other zerda warriors await you.  N'leng clambers down and rushes over to the burnt zerda warrior.

* Eareg Maar carefully helps the burnt zerda down

"Do you bear better news this time, Eareg Maar?"  She asks, as she tends to the wounded foxfolk.

Eareg Maar - Well we're all alive '" some more than others anyhow '" and we may perhaps have brought you back something.

* Eareg Maar pulls out the stone and gives it to N'leng.

"Excellent!  I must hasten to return to my tribe, but first I must see to your reward."

* Eareg Maar examines the whip.

Eareg Maar - Something that I could find some use for.

The whip seems to be made from the entrails of some bestial creature, preserved and bewitched so that it weeps venom.  As a grave-spawn, it does not affect you.

Eareg Maar - One more thing.

* Eareg Maar sits down next to the bandaged zerda.

Eareg Maar - I tend not to be sentimental, but I owe you and your friend a lot.

* Eareg Maar places a pouch of tobacco and his pipe in the injured foxfolk's hand.

* Eareg Maar stands up tipping his hat to the old zerda

Eareg Maar - Safe travels to you and your companions.

* Eareg Maar mounts up.

"Thank you again, Eareg Maar."  N'leng says.  "Be cautious if you venture much further east.  One of the nightmare-spirits escaped from the Dreaming Dark has been stalking the desert there, preying on zerda, mantid, and human alike: some fright-worm or shadow-serpent that stops the hearts of its victims through sheer terror."

Eareg Maar - I'll keep that in mind, thank you.  Oh yes, and before I forget '"

* Eareg Maar pulls the net out and drops it in her hands.

Eareg Maar - Didn't want to say I lost that.

She accepts the net gratefully.

* Eareg Maar spurs his horse on.[/ic]