ZEITGEIST [ZEITGEIST] The Continuing Adventures of Korrigan & Co.

Session 211, Part Two - CSI: Ursalina

A few jumps more took them away from the immediate area, into a part of town with lots of drinking holes. They waited at one for the pacifying aura to burn out. (No bar fights for the next hour or so.) Meanwhile they tried to communicate with Gupta and Uriel, but got no response. (Leon pointed out that this effort was redundant, as by now Uriel would have already had sent four times if he was able.) Korrigan reflected that this city had taken a greater toll on his unit than all their other adventures combined. Now there was only him and Leon left! Leon now told them what had happened in the Cadagyr Estate, as he hadn’t had the chance before now. Glaucia said that Lord Cadagyr had no right to ‘reassign’ executores as he had claimed; they would have refused. She was outraged at the news that mind control was being practised here in Ber, in direct contravention of everything the nation stood for. “If this doesn’t provoke a response from the Bruse, then it is time for a new Bruse!”

Once Leon had rested up, and the king had provided him with some healing (to boost his reserves of energy – all this teleportation was draining!) they decided to reorient themselves and return to Flida’s Finest, so they could follow her directions to seek out Officer Durgle. They frightened the living daylights out of Flida when they appeared and she gave them an earful, accusing them of drawing all sorts of trouble down on her. When she had calmed down, they showed her the cerebral mesh they had found in the northern district, but she did not recognise it. Then they left her premises under a new illusory disguise that covered even Brakken and Glaucia.

The streets of the Troughs once again busied up as they neared the guardhouse. This ‘impromptu’ celebration involved lots of musicians, singing and dancing, and the pitching of bundles of streamers into the air. Once again, police officers oversaw the festivities and the participants’ blank, bored faces were at odds with their jubilant whoops and ululations. At the centre of all this sat the whitewashed, functional police station. They went in and asked to speak with Officer Durgle. The orc on the desk told them he didn’t work there, but was associated with the station, and kept a pigeon-hole for communications which they were welcome to use. Leon was considering what exactly he should write when Glaucia noticed that they were being watched by an old half-orc who was sat by the front door, leaning heavily on a walking stick, apparently waiting for an appointment. Korrigan knew at once that this ‘half-orc’ was none other than Agent Gregory Doran of the RHC: otherwise known as Salaadoor Saan, Don Zacuto, Dread Pirate Roberta and other aliases (including this old Ursalinian half-orc merchant, and Officer Durgle). Korrigan acknowledged him telepathically, and he told them to meet him outside. They followed his instructions and went out to watch the carnival. He followed and walked right past them. “Follow me,” he said, telepathically.

Once they had arrived at an inconspicuous spot, Agent Doran brought them up to speed. He had been in Ursalina keeping an eye on the Ob: Yes, they were here, down by the docks, operating out of a lighthouse (natch). In this half-orc guise, Doran was well known to the goliath businessman, Sergio Flores, the Ob officer who built the lighthouse (and whose name they recognised from the convocation). More Ob officers had arrived a few days ago. Doran did not think they were anything to do with the creepy goings on in the city, in fact they seemed taken aback, and their initial confidence had dissipated in the face of what they had seen. Doran could not explain the phenomenon either, but he admitted he had not probed too deeply. As a solo operative he thought it unwise to check out any of the key installations alone. But he had noticed the mesh (and chosen not to interfere with it, for the same reasons). Korrigan asked if he had come across any exploding heads. “Once,” he nodded, “when I pressed one of Cadagyr’s staffers for info. I didn’t try that again!” (That dispelled Korrigan’s theory that this level of intrusion was confined to the military.) Korrigan also asked about hiveminds. Doran shook his head. “A few, in the earliest days, before the ordnances came into effect. Since then, none. But most of the population seem to be subject to some sort of low-level mind control.” (Glaucia gnashed her teeth again). There were other citizens, besides him and Flida, that is, who remained unaffected – each distinguished by their independence of mind, stubbornness or strength of purpose. One was Dieter Cadagyr, the son of Lord Windslow Cadagyr, the governor of Ursalina. In the early days, he made a ruckus about the odd goings on and got kicked off his father’s estate. Now he was holding court in the Red Peacock, talking insurrection. Doran thought he might be worth speaking to – in particular because he was said to have made contact with Salome Nieves. “She's still alive?” asked Glaucia, taken aback. They agreed that this should be their next step, but Doran wanted to show them something before they left the Troughs:

He went for a walk around the block, and returned in the guise of Officer Durgle. Then he took them back to the police station, to the morgue: Layed out on the slabs, preserved by a ritual, were the bodies of five police officers who were viciously cut apart by the so-called ‘masked vigilante’, their bodies dumped in an alley. Close examination revealed that their bodies had been cut apart after death, and that the killing blows were a few surgically precise strikes that slit arteries or punctured lungs. Each of the bodies had its organs removed and opened, and further incisions were made all across the bodies. One guard, an orc, had his entire face – from brow to tusked jaw – sawed off. The lead sergeant of the patrol had a peculiarly deep incision into the base of his neck. The skin was heavily torn and disturbed, as if someone had stuck fingers in the hole to probe it. A faint magic aura of protection lingered there. Glaucia gave a shudder. “It’s cold in here,” she said. It wasn’t.

Session 211, Part Three - Dieter at the Red Peacock

Since the closure of the Triunfo Vida, the most active site for entertainment in Ursalina’s eastern district was now the Red Peacock Café, a fine restaurant with adjoining art gallery and clothier shop. Local working class citizens dressed nicely and came here on special occasions to experience upscale life. All the staff were beautiful orc women in the finest fashion, or tiny goblins and kobolds who slinked around practically unseen in drab hoods. According to Doran, at least one spy for El Extraño always worked here.

This district was home to Ursaliña’s rudimentary industrial capacity, but with the city in lockdown these factories had run out of firegems for their furnaces. Like so many other cities, when things go bad the poor workers suffer first, protest first, and are punished first. The Peacock was now a hive of burgeoning dissent, and most of its patrons seemed free from the oppressive phenomenon that affected their fellow citizens. Dieter had opened his own house to the unemployed and made himself something of a hero to this burgeoning movement.

When they first entered the Red Peacock, a loud argument was going on between two bards – a minotaur (Ganillo Ducera) and a goliath (Tekla Sixeves) – over which of them would get to perform. Ganillo had a sonorous singing voice; Tekla played a brisk guitar. But neither knew the other’s music, and so their efforts to collaborate had stumbled awkwardly. Now they bickered in the aftermath of a poorly received song about the end of the world. Brakken kept an eye on the dispute for an appropriate opening, keen to establish the whereabouts of his cousin and his dire bear, Feroz.

Meanwhile, Doran made a beeline for Dieter, who was holding forth at the bar, surrounded by admirers. A twenty-something orc, the image Dieter cultivated was one of a rich dilettante. He wore a well-manicured beard and impeccable fashion (for the region; in Risur his clothes would have been a hundred years out of date). However, he appeared to have nibbled on the fingers of his calfskin gloves. Though drinking copiously, he proved to be quite charming and was keen to meet the ‘capable outsiders’ Doran now introduced him to. (Doran had resumed the identity of the irrepressible half-orc merchant, Torado.) He kept the conversation outwardly loud and cheerful and innocuous, punctuated by conspiratorial whispers: Dieter was convinced someone had mind-controlled his father, and was trying to be inconspicuous so one came for him.

A few days ago he made a public speech trying to rally support, but the police arrived and violently broke up the event. He went to confront his father, but was spooked before he did so, feeling like he was being watched all throughout the Cadagyr District. He fled to the Red Peacock, hoping for news from the outside world. It was here that Salome Nieves found him and warned him to be careful. At this, Glaucia revealed herself, and Dieter sent a messenger letting Nieves know she was here. “It should take no more than a couple hours. Let’s sit and have a drink and some tapas!”

Dieter told them of a rumor he had heard that the Jaula de Oso was going to have a big tournament. People said they’d seen a few trouble makers arrested and dragged there, and Dieter wondered if his father will re-institute old blood sports. But even that didn’t make any sense, because if that were the case Pili Roque, the arena master, would be buying beasts.

Other foul things were happening, but Dieter wasn’t sure how much was connected. He didn’t want to seem paranoid, but people were talking of graves being robbed; fountains going dry for a few moments and voices coming out before the water restarted; and the police being brutally violent in pursuit of some masked vigilante who was vivisecting criminals. Dieter thought it might have been Salome, but she was more of a blunt instrument.

Though wary of accepting their help (like most people he believed the Obscurati’s claim that Risur was to blame for the Great Eclipse) Dieter eventually let them in on his plan to storm his father’s estate, sometime in the next few days: to get to the bottom of all this once and for all. He would be very grateful for their support, he said. Leon asked about the strange hobgoblin under-butler who had tried to hypnotise him. “Trugido? He’s no hobgoblin!” Leon repeated his description and Dieter said there was no hobgoblin under-butler on his father’s estate. He became agitated and impatient at the news, which seemed to confirm his worst suspicions. How soon could they be ready to move, he wondered?

Still with an eye on the bards, Brakken broke away when the minotaur capitulated and began to pack away his music. The crowd had got behind Tekla, a regular, and Ganillo muttered imprecations in chagrin on his way towards the door. Brakken intercepted him and commiserated as a fellow minotaur, then – having won Ganillo round in his own inimitable fashion – asked after his cousin Gordash. Ganillo said that he knew Gordash well – he was, after all, a veteran member of the order – and had last seen him shortly before the Triunfo was closed. “I remember he was quite unhappy, because of the edict requiring all citizens with trained dire bears to take them up to the Jaulo.”

Brakken was outraged. “My Feroz? Fighting in an arena? He’s not a combat animal, but my especial companion and friend! He’s very sensitive! He won’t last five minutes!” Distressed and excited, Brakken insisted that they head to the Jaulo at once.

End of Session

Oh, poor Feroz.

You're a monster.

Session 212, Part One - The Hidden Enforcer

They agreed to investigate the Jaula next, waiting only to receive a reply from Salome Nieves. Meantime, they contacted the Coaltongue and asked them to be on the lookout for hiveminds. Nieves’ reply came a few hours later (which gave them all a chance to rest up). In his mind, Dieter had already moved his plan to march on the Cadagyr Estate forward to the following ‘morning’, once the curfew was over, and was frustrated by their insistence on heading to the Jaula first – prioritising animals over people, to his mind (although they suspected this kind of talk was mostly motivated by bravado). When the response came from Salome, however, it turned out that the meeting-place she suggested was more-or-less on the way to the Southern District, where the Jaula was to be found.

Despite her earlier request not to disturb her further, the unit teleported to the closest, secluded spot they knew: Flida’s Finest. The shop was dark and silent when they arrived. Flida was rudely awakened by the noise they made on their way out. She was by turns terrified, then apoplectic – a frightening vision, in face-mask and curlers.

Breaking curfew, under the cover of illusions (disguised as an orcish police patrol), they made their way through the Troughs to the appointed meeting place: a noisome trash-filled gorge at the eastern edge of the city. There, near a burning pile of rancid refuse, they found Salome waiting for them: a tall, well-groomed orc, with short-cropped black hair and a physique built for smashing evil-doers with a staff. Glaucia revealed herself and introduced the others. Nieves bowed low to her mentor then held out an urgent hand for silence. She had grown paranoid and throughout their conversation intermittently glanced skyward or hushed the group to listen for the ‘hiss-groan’ of invisible observers. “Haven’t you heard them?” she asked, surprised. “There’s one above the Executores’ Lodge. That’s why I couldn’t go back there. They don’t like noxious fumes, that’s why we’re here. When they first started following me, I tried hiding in tunnels. But I was only able to shake them when I fled through an open-air alchemy market, where strange smoke was thick in the air.” She was also convinced that someone was able to listen to the sending she sent, because minutes afterwards, officers came to arrest her. There was a fierce fight in the Executores Lodge, and after she and her sisters defeated the police she entreated them to flee, but they wouldn’t. She suspected the Obscurati, but she hadn’t seen any of their agents, and elsewhere in Ber they acted openly. There were no hallmarks of Pemberton’s duplicants either: those who were acting odd were still eating. She had detected no undead who might be possessing people. Salome did not know who these invaders were, but they had control of the Jaula, the Cadagyr’s Estate and possibly the Triunfo Vida too.

Salome said that she had encountered a number of citizens who had proven resistant to whatever influence the rest had succumbed to. She mentioned Flida, Dieter, and Commodore Anjela Deinousa – the orcish commander of two thousand marines on twenty frigates that had been scheduled to sail up and assail the Risuri city of Shale, but were now stuck in dock. The Commodore was a martinet, and her grip on her troops was such that her own clear-headedness extended to them. (Here was something solid they could gain from their actions: the city of Ursalina would be unlikely to consent to the launch of the fleet if the Risuri had freed them from the grip of this mysterious menace. Glaucia would see to that, she said.)

Glaucia was harsh in her criticism of Nieves: she had not followed her training, or cleaved to protocol. This information should have come in her second sending, no matter what the risk to her own person. In failing to follow up on her initial report, she had risked the lives of all those who subsequently came to investigate: five members of King Baldrey’s famous entourage – the saviours of the Bruse and of Ber – were now missing. Nieves bowed her head. Leon felt sorry for her and complimented her on her survival; Korrigan felt it was not his place to say anything, as she was Glaucia’s subordinate.

They grilled Salome for a little longer. Had she encountered anyone, or the rumour of anyone, matching the description of the missing unit members? No. Did she know any more about this ‘masked vigilante’? No more than they did. Had she noticed the cerebral mesh in the Northern District? No, she hadn’t.

Warned about the possibility of sending interception, their next sending to the Coaltongue was coded. They told them to be cautious in case they too were being watched.

Once Salome had confirmed that she was battle-ready and willing to stand alongside them, they set off for the Jaula.

Session 212, Part Two - The Jaula

Once again, they gained easy access to the walled ‘upper class’ Southern District - home to the Jaula and a prosperous restaurant district. They made a beeline for the Jaula, bypassing the arena-master’s villa. They noted that this whole area was covered in cerebral mesh.

Numerous archways led from a public courtyard to the arena’s outer breezeway. Linked chains of iron stretched across the archways, forming a barrier to deter passage, which could be easily climbed over. Affixed to the walls with brass bolts, thick slabs of slate provided a list of forthcoming fixtures, all of which were crossed off. Around the breezeway, a handful of staircases led up to the arena seating. Four barred wooden doors led to stone stairs that headed underground.

Before going downwards, they quickly inspected the arena itself, not expecting to find much. Eight tiered rows of stone benches surrounded an enormous elliptical field of gravel and sand. Dark stains mottled the sandy floor, and a ten foot high wall separated the lowest seats from the floor itself. Enormous canopies hugged the uppermost reaches of the arena, retracted and tied into position. On the northern side of the arena, portions of the seats were cordoned off into private seating, with colourful awnings stretched to cover them from vanished sun. Curling wisps of smoke rose from an enormous brass censer in the centre of a raised platform at the east end of the arena. From here, the master of ceremonies would direct events. (The brass censer, covered in stylized flames and comets and consecrated to a god of pyrrhic victory, hearkened to an ancient custom, Brakken told them. Many believed that the god’s favour would be bestowed on whoever touched the censer when it was lit.)

Listening carefully, they finally became aware of the same hiss-groan sound Salome had told them about: high over the arena, audible only when the breeze died down. They couldn’t see anything; not even Leon’s truesight helped here. Not wanting to be spotted themselves, they headed down.

Practising his newly developed ability, Korrigan created a clairvoyant eye on the far side of the barred door, noting that the coast was clear before they opened it. The stench of sweat, blood, and rot overwhelmed the senses in the dark corridors beyond. Beneath the arena floor, a deep thrumming vibration issued through the ground, inaudible, yet intense enough to make the teeth rattle and the bones shake. A maze of hallways had numerous side chambers for operations and storage, but signage pointed to the ‘animal cells’ and, undeterred by the labyrinthine layout, Brakken led them unerringly towards it.

Here, they could hear and smell the occupants of the cages before they saw them: dire bears. Most looked normal, but some looked distinctly odd, and as Brakken passed along the rows, looking for Feroz, he saw creatures that were no longer dire bears at all: skinless, or with bony, hooked forearms, tentacles or worse. He jumped back as one reached out to swipe at him. The bars did not look wide enough for that!

At last, he sensed a familiar signature in the final cage. It hid in the shadows to the rear, unlike the others, who pressed themselves up again the barred doors and sniffed hungrily at the newcomers.

“Feroz?” he called, tentatively. In response to its master’s voice, Feroz stood and shuffled forward. Brakken gasped in horror: Where his head should have been, was a glistening, flaccid sac, with limp appendages like an octopus’ tentacles. “Feroz? What have they done to you?” Feroz gave a melancholy moan. Despite appearances, Brakken could sense that his pet was the same, docile creature he had always been. Immediately, Brakken began to search for the means to release him. Each cage had two mechanisms: a simple lock – easily opened from this side, and a lever that could send the occupant up onto the floor of the arena. Brakken opened the cage, and embraced his poor companion. “I am sorry I left you here,” he said. Both Leon and Korrigan scrutinised the bear and determined that the change was neither magical – not a polymorph – nor medical (it had not been stitched together). The process whereby these animals had been warped was unknown. Hildegaard suggested that they give Feroz a good ending and put the poor thing out of its misery. Though well-intentioned, Brakken dismissed her suggestion out of hand and embraced Feroz more tightly.

They gave him a moment for his tender reunion and pressed south, through an iron door. The chamber beyond wasn’t very interesting: Just eight empty cells, with a note hidden in one. It read, “If you find this, please retrieve the evidence and weapon I hid in my quarters in the Executores Lodge.” No one recognised the handwriting. Nonplussed, they gave a shout to Brakken who followed them. When he did so, he was subject to a mental trap which he was able to shrug off and, on entering the foul southern chamber, immediately realised that no one else had, and that all save him now perceived events that were quite at odds to reality:

The true nature of the chamber was horrifying. It was nothing short of an abattoir – the source of the rotting stench that now permeated the whole labyrinth. Noticeably colder than the stone around it, this large chamber did indeed have eight cages along the north wall, but it was evident that the unit had not searched them. The skinned carcasses of many different animals dangled from hooks in the ceiling throughout the room, and a pit in the north lead to an open sewer tunnel. The metallic smell of spilled blood mingled with the omnipresent stench of offal, and underscoring it all was a constant bone-rattling vibration. A metal table held a selection of knives and saws, along with a half-dressed carcass. Upon closer examination, the carcasses were not cow and pig but rather minotaur and orc, their heads, hands and feet severed and their skin and organs removed. The other group members appeared to be blissfully unaware of these things, and stood nudging up against the bleeding carcasses. Worse still, some stood within, or alongside patches of brown mould that clung to parts of the walls and floors, emanating a deep chill that froze nearby flesh. They seemed oblivious to this too.

Feroz moaned in distress at the noise and Brakken finally located the source: in the far south end a fleshy orb like an eye was cemented to the wall with huge mats of cerebral mesh. This strange vesicle thrummed with vibration, the lens for some extraordinary power source.

Before Brakken could begin to communicate all of this to his friends, there was an alarming noise from behind: the sound of many cage doors opening at once. Bestial groans and snarls and shuffles followed. The bears were coming this way! Brakken could see them beginning to squeeze effortlessly down a passageway which should have been far too small for them.

In alarm, Brakken sought to disabuse his friends of their false memories, and succeeded in freeing Korrigan, Leon, Agent Doran and Glaucia, just as the first few fleshwarped dire bears oozed, stomped and slithered in to the room.

That was ominous, man. Nice gut punch with Feroz. How did the players like spooky-cage-town?

RangerWickett said:

That was ominous, man. Nice gut punch with Feroz. How did the players like spooky-cage-town?

Click to expand...

They weren't keen. And (as you will see in the next report) the bears were the first foes in a while who made them nervous enough to consider fleeing. But that's because they're running their B-team now, with only two core unit members left: Korrigan and Leon. The rest of the group consists of Brakken, Glaucia, Salome, Hildegaard and Agent Doran - all very capable but not super-powerful like the unit. I also like to give these fabulous NPCs the opportunity to shine.

The idea for this arose when the players sent Uru, Rumdoom and Quratulain on ahead (because all three players would be absent for a couple of weeks). I decided to twist the sidebar relating to Urban Empaths, and have Uru dominated (instead of 'skipping to the end') when he tried to commune with Ursalina. Having the three of them vanish (followed by Gupta and Uriel last week) has made this whole section of the adventure even more perilous and mysterious, and gives the players the chance to run new characters and remember what it's like to be 'mid-level'. They have to approach everything with a great deal more caution, which is ideal. I anticipate that Act Two will be a lot more gung ho!

Funnily enough, I didn't expect them to learn what had happened to Uru, Rumdoom and Quratulain quite so quickly, but had done that DM thing of underestimating the powers of epic-tier characters. They were able to hone in on and track Hildegaard really easily, so they got her story almost straight away.

I'm really enjoying this act myself. I had no preconceptions about it, which is very freeing. Plan to up the ante even more towards the end of the act, bringing one of our side-plots to a close. (Another will be dealt with in Act Two, needless to say, when Rumdoom finally gets to go toe-to-toe with Grandis Komanov. I'm so glad I managed to work a personal grudge into that storyline!)

Session 212, Part Three - The Abattoir

Those freed by Brakken immediately became aware of the freezing mould, and leapt aside. Leon teleported completely out of harm’s way, the better to review the situation. Glaucia summoned a pillar of radiance that the remaining bears would have to pass through. Some braved it, others squeezed into an even more narrow gap and got into the room another way.

The dire bears attacked ferociously, lashing out with teeth, claws, tentacles, hooks and pseudopods. Feroz cried out in pain, and Brakken staggered back under their onslaught. Korrigan snapped Salome and Hildegaard out of the false memory affect, and together this new unit tried its best to fight off the fleshwarped dire bears, all the while staying clear of the freezing brown mould. But the bear’s collective onslaught was too much. Each creature alone was a frenzied ball of teeth and claws, but when one bear fell, its mass was absorbed by another, which attacked with renewed ferocity and new claws and teeth! Many of them were soon badly wounded, and Brakken cried out for them to flee this place, fearing that he and Feroz could not last long.

Such a course of action might have been prudent, but for one thing: hanging closest to the throbbing vesicle was a form Korrigan now recognised. Stripped of armour, including mask, mechanical legs and forearms, the figure’s exposed flesh was blackened and gnarled like prehistoric body exhumed from a peat bog. All except the face, which had once been a fleshless rictus but had recently (and unbeknownst to anyone else) been restored to youthful beauty. It was Quratulain! Korrigan’s defender longsword confirmed that she was alive, but unconscious.

And so they could not flee, not without Quratulain. So Korrigan gave a great rallying cry, bolstering all of his allies, and they stood firm, and focused on dishing out more pain than they took. Salome proved her worth with powerful, well-placed blows from her staff; Agent Doran threw magical knives that riveted the bears in place and prevented them from melding; Brakken was able to bring the conjoined bears to heal and prevent them from attacking. With supporting fire from Glaucia and Leon, they wore the fleshwarped creatures down until at last they lay still. No one had fallen after all.

Hildegaard set about burning the bear’s twisted remains, while the others inspected their surroundings: the vesicle, the cells, Quratulain. (Meanwhile, Leon and Doran headed back north to see if they could find out who or what had released the bears.)

A pile in one of the cages contained the personal belongings of dozens of people, including many of the colourful costumes worn by bards at the Triunfo Vida. Brakken feared that his cousin might very well be among the dead here. In this same pile, they found the armour, mask and coat belonging to Quratulain. They gathered them up.

Before getting her down from where she was suspended, Korrigan noticed two things: burn marks – scored lines caused by lashing arcs of power, as opposed to a raw explosion – could be seen on the floor, walls, ceilings, and other corpses hanging around her. A small, cutting tool was on the floor immediately beneath where she hung; Korrigan picked it up. It was metallic but glossy and green.

With Brakken’s help, Korrigan took her down, and Brakken wrapped her body in cloth and carried her. Without her armour she was small and incredibly light and he could hold her in the crook of one massive arm.

Korrigan approached the thrumming vesicle. As he got closer his mind began to ache.

Shouts of alarm interrupted him:

Leon and Doran discovered that, though the bears had been released all at once, there was no mechanism for so doing. Each cell was locked and each lock was controlled individually. “There’s only one person I know who could do something like that,” Leon thought aloud.

Suddenly he was struck by an agonising shot from the shadows. He cried out in pain, almost collapsed – saved only by his silksteel mantle – and teleported as far as he could away from danger. Agent Doran caught sight of Uru in the doorway, just before the deep faen vanished again. He too withdrew, but kept himself in between where Uru might be and the badly wounded Leon.

In response to their warning cries, Glaucia raised a defiant shield and gathered her allies about her. Korrigan tried to reach out to Uru with his mind, or otherwise sense his presence, but he could not. Brakken tried too, to no avail. Fearful of renewed attack, they held their closed formation for a long time.

When nothing else happened, they cautiously prepared to leave. Korrigan healed Leon, so he was strong enough to spirit them away from this place. (Even if there was anything else worth finding here, they were in no fit state to go on.) Just in case, they quickly checked the sewer and immediate surroundings for signs of the other unit members’ presence, but they found nothing to indicate the others had been here.

Just before they went, with no time for a more subtle approach, Korrigan stepped up to the vesicle and stabbed it, right in the middle. The thrumming ceased, and a torrent of appalling images flooded his mind. In an instant he saw everything that had happened in the presence of the vesicle: the agony, the flaying, the hacking and the breaking. It was too much to take in, but he was sure that more ‘things’ had been created in this foul laboratory, not just the bears.

The most recent occurrence struck him with more force, and imparted more of its significance. Three slender, angular, alien forms gathered around Quratulain, focusing all their attention on her abdomen, in a curious, hungry way. One of them raised the cutting device Korrigan had found and prepared to make an incision. In an instant, arcs of lighting tore through the chamber, obliterating the three forms and even causing Korrigan to flinch.

The visions ended. He was lucky to have kept his mind, they were so sudden and so disturbing.

His sword blow had dislodged an object from the middle of the vesicle: an organic prism the size of a walnut, with a wizened rat-like tail. He handed this to Leon for examination, along with the green metal cutting tool. Then they left. Not for Flida’s Finest this time – after the fight with the bears, they might not survive her ire. (And even Flida, who was made of tough stuff, might lose it at the sight of a bear with an octopus for a head.) They arrived in the junkyard where they first met Salome Nieves.

Here they waited and rested while Korrigan performed a remove affliction ritual on Quratulain. When she awoke, the first thing she demanded was her mask, then her arms and armour. When her forearms were attached to her stumps, they worked straight away, and she was able to quickly reattach everything else herself. She checked her arm-blades, donned her coat of the genteel butcher (making sure the rest of her armoury was still in there), then turned to Korrigan and said:

“Gidim.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThSF2bEhhf4

End of Session

Session 213, Part One - One in, one out…

Overnight, they rested in the refuse heap as best they could, but their rest was uneasy and disturbed. Beams of light swept over the city, causing them to fear that a search might be underway. Just a few hours in, Leon experienced cramps and chills and began to vomit. It was clear that Uru had afflicted him with some sort of poison, but he was too weak to risk a draining remove affliction ritual, and having already administered to Quratulain in such a way, Korrigan was in any case too exhausted to perform another. It was decided to send Leon back to the Coaltongue for Ayesha to tend to. He could not teleport, for obvious reasons, so they decided to risk an airlift in the early hours, just before they moved out. A dragonflier descended, and spirited Leon away. They sent Hildegaard up too. Without Rumdoom by her side, she was very vulnerable.

Amielle told them that, as requested, they had lowered their altitude and gone looking for hiveminds. They were hard to spot, but eventually, she saw them, “Thanks to Sparklehorse, or whatever his name is. He becomes agitated when they are near. They are coming in much lower than in the Anthras, reach the environs of Ursalina and then vanish.” The ship wasn’t trying to follow them, or get so low as to be seen clearly from the streets. Rutger Smith had redoubled the watch in case their presence had been noted; Matunaaga’s children posted themselves on deck, in shifts, alert to the approach of thoughtforms.

Quratulain was back to her old self, it seemed. She thanked them for saving her – again. “This is becoming quite a thing!” Someone made a joke about ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men’. Maybe Uru’s next project, when they freed him from the gidim, could be posable Quratulain action figures with removable limbs and armour?

Now they were waiting only for Agent Doran, who had slipped away alone to check his mail drop and other contacts. He returned with news: the night lights had come from the Ob lighthouse. What were they up to? Possibly related were reports of unrest down at the docks – many ships had arrived in the last few days bringing frightening rumours from the south; seeking sanctuary in Ursalina, they had found none and reacted violently when refused permission to leave. Also – new edicts had been posted. Citizens were warned to be on the lookout for ‘outsiders’. There was no clear description, except that they were led by a pair ‘masquerading as executores’. Doran had brought robes and cloaks for Salome and Glaucia. Another edict encouraged the people to “engage with all scheduled events with full gusto”.

And so they set off for the docks to investigate these rumours, and maybe make contact with the Commodore. The streets were full now and they were not covered by Leon’s illusions. Doran went as Officer Durgle; Brakken used a great deal of effort to render himself and Feroz invisible. This added caution, and the business of the streets, caused their trip to take most of the morning:

Cowed and suppressed by the city patrols, the populace went about its daily business, knowing that people who acted out of line were prone to disappear. Brakken could sense this readily now. It had become a quiet protest for people to sarcastically adopt repetitive speech patterns, especially when the police were around. Two of the most popular phrases were, “Come inside to shop and get out of that harsh sun,” and “Fool’s Day was even better than last year! Lord Cadagyr’s patronage truly showed in the costumes. Such a variety of colors!” The Fool’s Day celebrations had been cancelled.

From dawn to dusk, Ursaliña followed a regular schedule: merchants set up their booths, displayed their wares, and then closed up promptly when the dim light of the Gyre sank to the west. People were borderline brusque in their behavior, but in the presence of police they feigned joviality. Brakken said that it was now clear that the people were affected by some sort of psychic effect similar to a hivemind, but more restrained. They passed through a square where exuberant powder-paint explosions covered everywhere, but the square was quiet now.

There were a lot of police down at the docks, keeping an eye on things. ‘Durgle’ became ‘Roberta’, the privateer, and with Brakken close by, relaying the surface thoughts of strangers telepathically, they managed to get the following out of the sailors: Smouldering resentment at the actions of the authorities, who had dragged many of them away following the unrest – unrest caused when two ships tried to leave the harbour and were ‘herded’ quietly back to shore. Why were they so keen to leave? Because Ursalina was not the haven they had hoped. Word from the south told of a sleeping sickness that had engulfed whole communities. Fishing fleets returned to find their wives and children unresponsive, mindless. Others told of a black, ‘cloud of death’ that descended on a mercantile convoy and noiselessly drained the crew of life. This sounded to the unit like a hivemind. Whatever it was, it was huge and deadly and it was coming this way. But they couldn’t get the authorities to take them seriously!

Korrigan decided that it would be meet to speak with Commodore Anjela Deinousa, explain the threat to her people and the city, and persuade her to help. With Glaucia at his side, she might take him seriously. This would accomplish two things: gain them allies in their current predicament, and help to delay or prevent a subsequent attack on Risur. The military docks were in a second, more secluded cove, divided from the rest of the harbour by a promontory on which stood the Obscurati’s lighthouse. The others persuaded the king to let them investigate the lighthouse on the way.

Session 213, Part Two - Ob Flap

In his guise as Torado, irascible old half-orc merchant, Doran knew Sergio Flores quite well. Flores had built the Ob’s unnecessarily large lighthouse here, and for reasons best known to himself had installed a kind of ‘penthouse suite’ just below the lamp and observation deck. He was usually keen to show guests around. ‘Torado’ knocked on the wooden door in the partition wall, which divided the lighthouse and the end of the promontory from the rest of the dock. He waited a while before it was abruptly opened and a surly looking sailor peered out. He gave a harrumph of disappointment, clearly expecting someone else.

“What is it?” he demanded, looking behind Torado at the docks beyond. The old half-orc leaned disarmingly on his walking stick and asked after Sergio. “I don’t think he’ll be taking visitors but I’ll ask,” said the sailor, closing the door. After another, longer wait, the door was flung open by the effusive Sergio Flores who welcomed Torado inside. Torado paused in the doorway for an extended handshake – just long enough for Brakken and Feroz to squeeze invisibly inside. (Brakken came to read minds; Feroz did not want to be left on his own with strangers.) Torado promised Flores news from throughout Ursalina, and asked why they had lit the lamp last night. Flores was keen to share and invited him up to the penthouse, where Torado ensconced himself on a sofa with a drink of whiskey, while the Ob officers told their story and flapped about him. (Brakken and Feroz lurked on the stairs.)

Flores was joined by two Ob officers from outside Ursalina: the ghost of dragonborn singer Praesidia de Vaca (whose presence in this form Torado blithely accepted) and minotaur priest Trevio Addaz. Praesidia was in a flap. She had been hoping the newcomer was ‘Bruce’, who had apparently gone to gather news along the docks. Addaz reassured her that McDruid would return shortly. Praesidia moaned that this was not at all what she expected, and that other Ob officers must have received a better welcome elsewhere in Ber. Flores confessed that their treatment had not been typical, nor in the character of his old friend Lord Cadagyr. Something was amiss! He turned to Torado for confirmation; Torado nodded that the people were indeed behaving strangely and asked about the unrest at the docks.

Addaz said they didn’t know much except that the ringleaders had been carted off by the authorities. McDruid’s crew had swapped ‘tall stories’ with other sailors about a mysterious menace sweeping north along the coast, and were eager to leave the city but Addaz dismissed these rumours as superstition, borne out of fear at the disappearance of the sun. Still, he was concerned that the authorities might target them now that Flores had insisted on lighting the lamp. Flores said it was worth a try – to normalise minds and rid the city of this strange, pervasive influence. “That’s not how the lamps work. You built the thing, don’t you know that?”

They fell to bickering. Praesidia wanted to leave. She was reminded of the fate of other ships that tried to do so: all visited by a strange and very large albatross, whereupon they returned to port. “An animal messenger,” Addaz reasoned, “bearing a stern word from Lord Cadagyr.” He reminded Praesidia of their mission and of the consequences of failing Nicodemus in his current frame of mind. “You, of all people, should hardly need reminding of that.” (Brakken read her thoughts: poor Praesidia, seeking to win concessions for her Bards faction had thrown her lot in with the Colossal Congress just before Nicodemus’ purge. It had been recognised that she was really nothing more than an innocent bystander, and invited to join the ghost council following her untimely demise. Praesidia was at once both hugely grateful and immensely hurt by her treatment. Especially since Catherine Romana had got away scot free!)

Outside, the others lurked as surreptitiously as possible, close to the lighthouse, and so they were first to see a lone figure scuttle past the police and approach the small wooden door in the partition wall. Thanks to the Humble Hook, Korrigan knew him to be Bruce McDruid, an explorer and Ob officer who had once been the host of Matunaaga. He knocked and was admitted.

Up top, Addaz had seen McDruid return from a window, and was perplexed when the man did not come up the stairs. They dashed down to meet him (causing Brakken and Feroz to squeeze themselves into uncomfortable recesses in order that they didn’t block their way). Torado followed more slowly (as did his invisible companions). By the time they arrived, a full-blown argument was underway: McDruid and his crew were loading things onto their boat and preparing to cast off, to the loud and urgent protests of both Flores and Addaz.

“I told ye not to light that bloody lamp, man!” McDruid hooted. "They’re on their way here noo – a whole troop of orcs. We're doomed! Ye can stay and argue with ‘em if ye like. I’ll take ma chances with that bloody albatross.”

Alerted by Brakken, Korrigan saw Ursalinan elite officers – armed with carbines and supported by lawmages – marching through the docks towards the lighthouse. A lieutenant was at their head, mounted on a giant wargoat – barded, with spikes driven into its curved horns. Korrigan asked Quratulain to calculate the Ob’s chances if they chose to resist. “Low to medium-low,” said Quratulain. “We’ll sit this one out,” Korrigan told his team.

Ignoring Flores, McDruid cast off. Praesidia joined him. ‘Torado’ toyed with the idea of simply jumping in to the water, but decided against blowing his cover. Determined to demonstrate his faith in reason and willingness to work with those in authority, Addaz went out to greet the troops and delivered a rousing and well-rehearsed pro-Ob speech, during which he was forced to raise his hands in the air by two-dozen carbines. Half of the orcs then swarmed through the open doorway and either placed rough hands upon Flores and Torado, or opened fire on McDruid’s boat. Flores and Torado were dragged outside where, along with Addaz, they were placed under arrest and told that they would be taken to see Lord Cadagyr. “This is ideal,” said Addaz, determined to look on the bright side. “I’m sure we can reason with the man.” Flores was put out that his earlier requests for an audience had been denied – and now this!

Brakken watched invisibly as McDruid’s ship surged out beyond range of the orcs’ carbines and headed for the harbour mouth. Before long, however, just as described, a large, faintly luminous albatross descended from the sky. A few minutes later, the ship slowed and came to a halt, but by then, Brakken was forced to chase after the others to catch up.