Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
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CASSILDA: I am not sure, my Prince, that Carcosa is in the world. In any event, it is certainly fruitless to talk about the matter.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
The next morning, they awoke well rested and hungry, eager to see the town and what it might have to offer in the way of shopping and distractions. After all, it was a vacation.
A young slave girl named Tula summoned them to the dining area for breakfast.
Calactyte was already sucking down his meal when Sebastian joined them. A breakfast of dates, bread and wine mixed with honey was served. Ilmarė poked tentatively at the dates while Bijoux lapped from a bowl of wine and honey. Two musicians played flute and kithara while a lovely dark-haired woman sang softly.
Sebastian scanned the room. “Is that…”
“Yes,” said Ilmarė. “Thralen Vodric val’Ossan,” she said in low tones. “He has not shown any interest in us as of yet.”
“Thralen?” asked Sebastian, speaking a little louder. “Is that you?”
Thralen was a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair. He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt. The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery. Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet. Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.
He looked from his seat across the room. “Sebastian? Why, it is you!”
Ilmarė snorted. “I’ll grant him that there are a few purpled-haired Elorii,” she looked at Cal and Bijoux. “But you two…you’re hard to miss.”
Bijoux pointed at a side table set for children.
“Then that must be…”
“Hi Cal!” said Emric, bounding up to him. “How are you?”
“I’m good kid,” said Cal, flashing the boy a mouthful of teeth. “How are ya?”
“I’m going horseback riding!” responded the boy. It was obvious the boy greatly admired the big lizard.
“Back to your seat, Emric,” said Thralen. He looked displeased.
“Awww.”
“No talking back young man. Back to your table. Now.”
Emric sulked back to the table with the other children of the other resort guests, where an older, matronly woman attended him.
At the close of the meal, the musicians performed a set of three songs, the woman joining the pair of men with tympani.
“I thought you were taking Emric to Milandir?” asked Sebastian.
Thralen looked flustered. “Recent events have made it evident that--let’s just say it’s safer in Vestalanium,” said Thralen. “I thought it best I give the boy some fresh air. The air in Milandir is…thick.”
“I understand,” said Sebastian. “The air is similarly thick in Freeport.”
CASSILDA: The people! Who are they? You care as little for the people as Uoht does. Thale, I know your heart, and his as well. All the diadem means to either of you is your sister. There’s no other reward now, for being a king in Hastur. As for black stars, enough! They radiate nothing but the night.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
A well-dressed man arrived, his hair short and gray. His eyes were sharp and his smile seemed comfortable upon his face.
“Honored guests, welcome. Welcome to Ravulus, my humble home. I am Gaius Phillipus, your host here during your stay in Vestalanium. I hope the food and music was pleasing to you all?”
He shook each of their hands and greeted them by name. Ilmarė noticed a tattoo of the Legion of the Reluctant Warrior worn proudly on his forearm. It was the same tattoo that Quintus wore.
“I have taken the liberty to arrange a full day of amusement and indulgences for you all. Tula will be your guide about Vestalanium. She knows the town very well and is at your command for the duration of your stay with us. Now then, to start your day off she will take you about town. We have many fine shops, a wonderful public garden and our bathhouse is second to none in the whole empire.”
“A bath,” said Ilmarė wistfully. “I haven’t been able to take a bath in months.”
“You have a reservation at the bathhouse at the sixth hour. Tula will make sure you aren’t late, because you might not get in otherwise. They are booked days in advance.”
Gaius looked at Cal. “If you should become hungry there are many fine eateries in town as well. Tula can guide you to any of them.”
Cal’s head snapped up. His nostrils flared. Then he went back to eating his dates.
“But do not fill your bellies completely, because I have a wonderful dinner planned. At the eighth hour we will all board my private barge and enjoy an evening feast upon the river.”
“Sounds nice,” said Sebastian.
“I have much entertainment planned for us. From Milandir, the magician Coelius will astound you. Then you will laugh to the antics of Dives and Muffin, a man and his amazing trained dog. I have also imported two of the finest dancers from Altheria, dark beauties that will steal your heart.”
Ilmarė and Bijoux exchanged glances but chose not to interrupt.
“Then, to finish our dinner, a matched pair of gladiators will entertain us with a fighting display. Not bad for your first day in Vestalanium, eh? But what of tomorrow?“
Gaius paused dramatically.
“Surely you have heard of the new play debuting tonight, the work of the famous Livius Carbo and his new troupe. This will be play like no other, a first in the empire. Fully reserved for weeks, but I have invitations for all of you to attend the show tomorrow night!”
The other guests applauded. Cal looked around in confusion at the sound.
“After the show,” continued Gaius,” we will have wine and a reading of poetry here, in the dining room. Our wonderful staff will play music, of course. But before you begin your day of activities, our players have prepared a special set to welcome you to Vestalanium. I give you,” he bowed low with arms spread wide,” the players of Ravulus!”
At that point, the musicians and singer began their final set of the morning. Gaius exited the room.
“Well, looks like we’re on our own,” said Sebastian. “Where would you like to go?”
CAMILLA: No, no. Please. You cannot give the diadem to me. I will not have it.
CASSILDA: And why not?
CAMILLA: Then I would be sent the Yellow Sign.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
There was much to see and do in Vestalanium. Most buildings in town were constructed of fine white marble and columns abounded. Street traffic was light—the town was far too exclusive to have noisy crowds. The weather was perfect with blue skies and the sound of the Corvis River never far away.
Sebastian scanned the square. “I think I should like a pastry,” he said.
Dozens of shops lined the spacious square. All the varied goods of Coryan were offered there, minus the crowds. Food and drink was available from various numerous carts and performers were at every corner.
“Why can’t you leave that axe behind?” asked Ilmarė in irritation. “The rest of us are pretending we’re civilized.” They had all changed into the best clothes they could afford.
Shoppers parted at the strange sight of a lizard man and cat woman. Cal and Bijoux seemed oblivious to the attention, although the staff was far too polite to mention it.
Cal patted the bearded axe on his back. “Just in case,” he said, bobbing his head.
The dark-kin stepped over to one cart brimming with confections of all types. He bumped into someone who was staring at Calactyte.
“Oh I’m sorry…” he blinked as he took in the man before him. He wore the clothes of a patrician, but his features were undeniable. As were his purple lenses. “Kham?”
“Pardon?” said the man, taking a step back. “My name is Katticus Maximus Val’Abebi.” He looked around to see if anyone noticed him. Then Kham took off his lenses and winked at Sebastian. “And I have never met you before in my life. I’m just an ordinary nobleman vacationing in this fine town.”
A crier wandered about, dropping metal tokens in peoples’ hands. He dropped one in Kham’s hand. “Come see a play like none before! Come, see the story for yourself!”
Cal sniffed in Kham’s direction. “That guy smells familiar,” he said.
The crier dropped another token into Sebastian’s hand. “The royal family plots and plans, the true king arrives! It is a tale of wonder and mystery. Who will prevail? The story unfolds under the stars!”
The crier placed more tokens in the palms of Ilmarė and Bijoux. He carefully circumnavigated Cal.
“Come see one thousand lamps illuminate the final act! Beautiful actresses! Handsome actors!”
Cal pointed at Kham. “Hey, that guy looks just like Kham.”
The crier wandered away. “Costumes like none on Onara! Come see Adventus Regis!”
Sebastian looked down at the palm of his hand. It had a sickly feel to it, as if the metal was not only cold, but damp as well. The yellow sign upon it was actually yellow, even though no paint appeared to have been applied. It was a three-armed symbol emanating from a central point.
The three arms of the Yellow Sign undulated toward him, reaching out as if calling to him. The world swam as Sebastian was overcome with dizziness and nausea…
With a shout, he dropped it to the ground and stomped on it several times.
“Did you see that?” Sebastian asked Kham.
But Kham was transfixed. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.
“That’s Fleshripper, right?” asked Cal.
Kham took his hands off the cursed sword at Cal’s words. He looked up at Sebastian. Whatever he was thinking, it was concealed behind his shaded lenses.
“Nope,” he said slowly. He deposited the token into his belt pouch. Then he grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby cart and took a swig.
“He even drinks like Kham,” muttered Cal.
“I think,” said Sebastian, “I should like to leave here. Immediately.”
“Perhaps the gardens will be more to your liking,” said Tula. “Many of our visitors find it quite soothing.”
“I would like that,” said Sebastian.
“Will you be coming with us…Katticus?” asked Tula. Her demure smile indicated a familiarity that would normally be scandalous between slave and patrician.
Kham took another swig and smiled back, but he was unconvincing. “Oh sure, why not.”
CAMILLA: But mother, there IS something new; we do not need a stately wedding yet. That’s what I came to tell you, just before the old quarrel started up again.
CASSILDA: And what is that?
CAMILLA: Mother, there’s a stranger in the city.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
The garden was filled with rows of beautiful flowering plants, fruit trees, and numerous fountains depicting all manner of fantastic mythical creatures. The paths were twisting and lined with white gravel. Benches were plentiful, as were vendors of fruit and wine. Musicians were placed just out of earshot of one another, playing upon flute or lyre.
Ilmarė stretched. “It is so rare that I get to appreciate Osalian’s gifts,” she said. “His miracles are everywhere.”
Sebastian wandered over to a stone bench and sat down. “Yes, it is beautiful,” he said. “Although I worry about the little girl.”
“Who?” asked Cal. He was sniffing fruit hanging from a tree.
“A centurion asked about a little blonde girl named Nelaria,” said Bijoux. “She ran off from her father earlier today. They think she might be in the gardens.”
Kham, having finished off his bottle, was already patronizing another wine vendor.
“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” said Ilmarė. “Human children tend to get lost easily.”
Sebastian placed one palm on the bench. It felt wet and sticky.
When he looked at his hand, it was covered in red. Blood.
There was a trail down the side of the bench, across the gravel path, and around a rosebush. Sebastian stood up and followed the path.
Hidden from view was the little girl, sitting on the ground off the main path. Her white toga was spattered with blood. In her hands was a dead kitten, its head dashed in against the side of another stone bench. Her arms slowly swung out, striking the body of the dead animal against the stone bench. Over and over and over and over.
“Mother, there is a stranger in the city,” she muttered. “Mother, there is a stranger in the city…”
Sebastian took one step back. Then he came to his senses and grabbed the girl by the arms. “Stop that!” he shouted.
The little girl dropped the dead kitten. It fell to the ground with a plop.
The dark-kin kneeled down to look the girl in the eyes. “Is your name Nelaria?”
Her eyes were unfocused. “My name is Camilla,” she said.
“We’d better get you back to your father,” said Sebastian. He brought her out from the hedge.
The rest of them looked on in shock as Sebastian walked out with a little girl spattered in blood.
“What happened?” asked Ilmarė.
“I’ll send for the guard,” said Bijoux. She spread her wing flaps wide and leaped over the hedge out of sight.
“I don’t know, exactly. She battered a kitten to death,” said Sebastian. “It’s back there. Cal, can you retrieve it?”
“Sure,” said Cal. He hunched down behind the bushes.
It didn’t take long for Nelaria’s father to arrive, along with the guards. He scooped her up into his arms.
“That’s your daughter?” asked Sebastian. “She said her name was Camilla.”
“She must be confused,” he replied. “This is Nelaria. Thank you very much for your help in finding her. Nelaria was out of my sight for just a few minutes when the troupe started rehearsing the play.”
“The play? Adventus Regis?” asked Ilmarė.
“Yes, that’s the one,” responded the father. “The chariot races were postponed until next week because the play has taken over the arena. All four thousand seats are reserved for tonight’s performance. Nelaria was playing with her kitten in the stands while I was working on setting up the lamps for the play.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “About that kitten—“
Cal came out from behind the hedge. “Well, I didn’t find a kitten.” He dangled a bloody mess of fur and meat. “But I did find whatever this used to be.”
NOATALBA: Unfair, unfair! It was Alar invented the Pallid Mask! Aldones--
THE KING: Why should I be fair? I am the living god. As for Aldones, he is the father of you all. That is the price: the fixing of the Mask.
ALL: Oh!
CASSILDA (bitterly): Not upon us, oh King; not upon us!
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
The bathhouse was a lavish structure staffed by nearly a hundred attractive slaves. Separate bathing areas were available for both men and women. There was also a well-supplied shop, full of lotions, soaps, soft cotton towels and robes, sandals, snacks, wines and tonics.
“You may choose a slave attendant to serve you,” said Tula, ushering them into the bathhouse. She leaned in to Kham. “I got you the most attractive.”
Two female slaves arrived to usher Ilmarė and Bijoux into a separate area.
“Mind the hair,” said Ilmarė.
Bijoux’s eyes widened when she saw the blades, called strigil, that the slaves used to scrape off the massage oil. “Yes,” she added, “mind the hair.”
“No attendant is necessary for me,” said Sebastian. “I will bathe myself, thank you.”
“Well that’s a first,” said Kham. He craned his neck to look at Cal. “What about you?”
“I’ll take three slaves,” said the Ss’ressen. Three burly male slaves looked on in dismay as Cal pointed a clawed digit at each of them. “My scales need a lot of work.”
A beautiful, dark-skinned slave stepped into view. “This is Samara,” Tula said to Kham. “She will take care of you.”
The bath was soothing, but Kham couldn’t relax. His mind kept wandering back to the voice he had heard in his head, the voice that he had never heard before and hoped he would never hear again.
Kham moved on to the massage room, where Samara rubbed him down with oils. She buffed off the oils with a rough stone, leaving his skin tender.
He had seen the Yellow Sign before, in Freeport. Kham had even encountered a manifestation of the Unspeakable One. But he had never heard a voice.
Samara next massaged him with thicker, heated oil. She then began to scrape it off with a bladed strigil.
Kham lied to Sebastian. He did see the three arms of the Yellow Sign squirm towards him like the tentacles of an octopus. But it was the voice that unnerved him.
It had said, “Kill them for your king.” And Kham knew, with certainty, that it was the voice of Fleshripper speaking to him.
A warm liquid, warmer than the oil, was dripping onto his back. Kham turned his head to see what Samara was up to.
The beautiful slave girl stood beside the table, her eyes appearing full of loss and hopelessness. The wide, flat blade she held was drenched with blood, dripping off of it onto the tile floor, the massage table, and Kham’s back. Her left arm was held outward and upon the bare forearm there were two very deep cuts, radiating out from a gash at the inside of her elbow.
“What in Althares…” said Kham, spinning onto his back.
She lifted the strigil again to her arm, pushing it bone deep into her flesh without so much as flinching. Before Kham could react, she began to lower the blade of the strigil, carving a third deep cut into her flesh.
Kham backpedaled off the table, only to slip in her blood and the oil, slapping to the ground. It stunned him. He yelped from the pain and shock, and then struggled to his feet.
Samara raised the strigil over her arm again. Kham grabbed her by the wrists. “Stop that!”
Her hands went limp. The strigil dropped to the cold stone of the floor with a clatter.
Sebastian skidded into the room, a towel around his waist. His forked tail flicked in agitation behind him. “What’s wrong?”
Kham didn’t have to explain. The blood streaming from her arm had mingled with the oils on the floor, turning the scene into a sanguine-colored nightmare.
“Here,” said Sebastian, grabbing a towel from a shelf on the wall. It was then that Kham noticed just how jagged and yellow Sebastian’s claws were. Suddenly, he understood why the dark-kin always wore gloves. “This should help stop the--”
He never finished. Samara became frantic, thrashing madly at Sebastian. Kham got something in his eyes. He touched his face to wipe it away, only to discover Samara’s blood on his fingertips.
Sebastian was slammed against the table. Samara began to wail.
“Let me die!” she screamed. “Just let me die! It’ll be better this way! I beg you, show pity. I didn’t hurt the man, only myself! Please, let me die!”
Sebastian shook his head to try to focus. “This is madness,” he said. Then he pointed at Samara with open palms. “Fuco aspergo!”
A coruscating cone of colors beamed from his hands into Samara. She shrieked once more, and then collapsed to the ground.
“Finally,” said Sebastian. He looked over at Kham. “Are you all right?”
“I-I’ll be fine,” said Kham. But he would not be fine ever again, for Samara had shrieked something else.
CASSILDA: Nobody, nobody these days goes about Hastur but the hearse-driver. Sensible people hide their faces even from themselves.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
When they passed through the shopping square, one of the shops was closed. It had a small wagon and a horse in front.
“Beldin!” said Sebastian. “You made it!”
The dwarf stood outside of the shop, looking perturbed. “Yes, my bath was interrupted by some madwoman. It will take days to get my beard dry.” Droplets of bathwater still clung to his facial hair.
“We know,” said Kham. He wandered over to another wine shop.
Ilmarė peered in the window. “There’s four teenaged humans inside,” she said. “They’re sweeping something up.”
“Mopping up blood,” Sebastian said morosely.
“I doubt it,” said Beldin. “It’s common for a metalworker’s shop to sweep up the filings from the day.”
“That doesn’t explain why the shop is closed in the middle of the day,” said Bijoux.
Just then, the oldest of the boys left the shop. He started loading three large baskets onto the wagon.
Sebastian walked over to the wagon. The boy was clearly in a rush and sped up loading the wagon as Sebastian came closer. As the dark-kin closed, the horse whinnied and fretted.
“Whoa,” the boy said to the horse, “whoa.”
“You seem to be having some difficulty,” said Sebastian with a sly smile. “Mind if we ask you some questions while you pack?”
“Guess so,” said the boy. “Never seen him like this.”
Beldin joined them. “Who owns this shop?”
“Selvius,” said the boy. “I’m his son, Sevius.”
Ilmarė looked down into the basket. “You make those pendants for the play?”
“Yes,” said Sevius, struggling to keep his horse calm. “This is the last batch. We’ve already delivered four batches to the arena.”
Kham came back with a half-empty bottle of wine. “Why are you closed?”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “My father hasn’t been sleeping well the past two nights. His work had become sloppy during the past week and he seemed nervous all last night.”
“It’s getting late in the day,” interrupted Tula. ““If I don’t return you before half past the seventh hour, I will be punished.”
Kham swayed a bit from side to side. “So you closed because your father was nervous?”
Sevius clambered up on top of the wagon. “No. We’re closed because my father is dead. He hung himself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”
Adventus Regis - Part 6a: The Murmurs Become Whispers
Quote:
CASSILDA: I…suppose it is too late to be afraid. Well then; I am not.
STRANGER: Well spoken, Queen. There is in fact nothing to be afraid of.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
They all washed up, changed their clothing, and readied themselves for the dinner cruise. Litters waited to take them to the town’s dock.
“A word,” said Sebastian to Thralen.
The older man raised his eyebrows but stepped away from the other guests to speak with Sebastian.
“Yes?”
“Don’t go to the play,” said Sebastian. “I have seen…signs that something is not right. Do not go to see it. Stay here at Ravulus, with the children.”
Thralen’s brow furrowed. “You mean Adventus Regis. Do you expect trouble?”
“Yes,” said Sebastian. “Worse than in Freeport.”
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” interjected Kham, clearly drunk. “The local prefect, Octavius, will be there. The place will be surrounded by Coryan’s best and brightest.”
“That bad.” Thralen’s gaze wandered to Emric, who was being entertained by a freed slave. “You have saved Emric once. I will abide by your wishes.”
“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “I hope that I am wrong and can apologize to you later.”
The ride was smooth, quick, and free of incident. People dressed in their finest clothing moved through town towards the arena.
Ilmarė craned her neck to look up at Cal. “Are you bringing that thing?”
“What?” asked Cal. “Oh, you mean the axe? Yes. Why?”
“Because it scares people,” said Ilmarė.
“HE scares people,” said Kham. “Leave him alone.” He patted the scabbard on his hip. “I have to carry Fleshripper anyway.”
“Why?” asked Cal.
“Because Fleshripper won’t have it any other way,” he replied ruefully.
CASSILDA: The city had four singularities. The first singularity was that it appeared overnight. The second singularity was that one could not tell whether the city sat upon the waters, or beyond them on the invisible other shore. The third singularity was that when the moon rose, the towers of the city appeared to be behind it, not in front of it.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
They arrived at the dock to behold a wondrous sight. Moored at the dock was a barge like they had never seen. The decks were all polished wood, artistically carved handrails, posts and columns. A cotton canopy, brightly dyed in a variety of colors, covered nearly a third of the vast deck. Six marble couches, piled high with pillows and cushions, were nestled beneath the canopy. Beside each couch was a table with a bowl of fruit and a glass of wine. A slave stood near each couch with a large fan of ostrich feathers. A dozen black oars jutted out from the lower decks.
Beldin and Sebastian exchanged glances. They knew well that the slave demons of Ymandragore powered the black-sailed ships. Surely, Gaius used regular slaves?
“Welcome!” shouted Gaius, leaning over the rail. “Welcome to my ship. Come aboard, watch your step my friends. Come now, we have a whole evening of feasting, entertainment and excitement planned.” He was well-dressed, as always, with his trademark smile.
The slaves carried them onto the barge to the couches. In no time, they were moving slowly up the Corvis River. The musical trio who performed at breakfast began singing and playing. They were treated to a view of olive orchards and prosperous farms amid the Coryan countryside.
Sebastian stepped over to Gaius. “What powers this ship?”
“Hmm? Slaves, of course,” he replied.
“You mean human slaves,” said Beldin, joining them.
“Yes, of course!” Gaius snapped back. “I am no Ymandrake.”
“Of course,” said Sebastian. “We meant no insult.”
Gaius’ ready smile returned. “None taken. I choose my slaves very carefully. There are no demons down there, I can assure you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be below decks. Please enjoy the first act, Coelius the Magician!”
“I am…COELIUS THE MAGICIAN!” boomed a bearded man in robes and a turban. He snapped his fingers and flames danced about.
Sebastian snorted. “Simple pyrotechnics,” he muttered to Beldin.
Suddenly, the barge lurched. There was the sound of timber groaning and snapping. The ship twisted in the water, as if snagged upon something, and the craft shuddered.
A few moments later, Gaius arrived from below deck.
“My friends,” he began, “we’ve had a bit of trouble below decks. It seems our clumsy pilot has steered onto some rocks near shore and knocked a small hole in our hull. There is no danger, none at all, but we must stop to make repairs.”
Ilmarė squinted at Gaius. “Something’s wrong.”
“Our captain knows a flat field just around the next river bend where we can stop. We shall simply move the dinner and show onto the shore. I promise you will hardly notice the interruption. To apologize for this embarrassment, your stay at Ravulus will be extended an additional day, without charge of course.”
Sebastian leaned over to Ilmarė. “What is it?”
“Blood,” said Ilmarė. “On the bottom of Gaius’ tunic.”
CASSILDA: Misfortunate prince. Well then, the fourth singularity was that as soon as one looked upon the city, one knew what its name was.
CHILD: Carcosa.
--The King in Yellow: Act One
The crew of the barge skillfully grounded the vessel onto shore. In moments, a small army of slaves and servants poured out from below deck. They were all helped onto the riverbank and led to the nearby field.
“Gaius,” said Ilmarė, “there’s something you’re not telling us.”
Gaius blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s start with the blood on your tunic,” said Sebastian.
Gaius’ smile dissipated into a snarl. “Keep your voices low!” He pulled both of them away from the crowd. His men were hastily erecting a pavilion tent in the field. “One of our largest slaves went mad,” said Gaius, regaining his composure. “He knocked the crewman manning the tiller unconscious and then steered the barge onto the rocks.”
Gaius’ men moved the heavy couches inside the pavilion tent.
Sebastian crossed his arms. “Why didn’t someone stop him?”
“I told you,” said Gaius, his voice dripping with contempt, “he was very large. Panicked crewmembers tried to stop him, but he would not release the tiller. I had to bludgeon him to death with a crock pot.”
Torches were set along the path between the tent and the barge.
“Can it be repaired?” asked Ilmarė.
“Yes,” said Gaius, “but only the simplest patch job. It will be enough to get back to town tonight, but the ship will need more serious repairs in the coming days. I knew I shouldn’t have bought that slave from the arena. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” The smile returned and Gaius spread his arms wide towards the magician. “Coelius will now perform feats of wonder that will astound and amaze!”
Ilmarė and Sebastian returned to their couches to consume the first course of bread and soup.
“You seem quiet,” Sebastian said to Kham. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Kham said, his eyes on the magician. He had just spewed a gout of flames into the air.
“You saw the tendrils on the token move like I did, didn’t you?”
Kham took a long gulp of wine. “Maybe I did.” He turned to bark at a slave. “More wine!”
The second course was an appetizer of boiled crab and raw vegetables. Dives and his trained dog performed tricks and a comedy routine. Muffin was a small black and white dog with a curled tail. Bijoux was not amused.
“Why can’t you get rid of Fleshripper?” Cal asked Kham.
“Because I can’t. I’ve tried.”
“Ever just try dropping it?” the big lizard said.
Kham rolled his eyes. “I’ve tried to sell it. I’ve tried to break it. I’ve tried to lose it. Fleshripper won’t…let me.”
“I could always take it from you,” said Cal, extending one long pointed claw to point at the sword.
“Not without killing me,” he said. “Until Elabac figures out how to remove this curse, I’m stuck with the damned thing. More wine!”
Sebastian folded his gloved hands before him. “At least your demons can be put away,” he said.
Beautiful twin Altherian dancers performed next. The third course was oysters and vegetables.
Gaius leaned over to whisper to Kham. “The dancers can be sent to your room for the night,” he said. “It would only be a small additional fee of, let’s say, eight hundred Imperials? Have we a deal?”
Kham took another gulp of wine. “Absolutely. It will be paid in full in my account back at Ravulus. But you should send them to my friend Sebastian,” he nodded towards Sebastian, who sat engrossed in the display. “He needs them more than me.”
“Deal,” said Gaius. “I will collect the first four hundred Imperials when we return.” He turned back to the audience. “And now, for the final stage of our entertainment this evening, a pair of gladiators will do battle! Would you like an armed or unarmed combat?”
“Armed!” shouted Ilmarė with uncharacteristic vigor.
Gaius grinned at her. “The Elorii wishes to see blood. Will it be to the death then!”
“Yes!” Ilmarė shouted as Sebastian shouted “No!”
“That will be an additional six hundred Imperials,” said Gaius.
“Oh. Never mind then,” said Ilmarė. “I don’t put that high a price on human suffering.”
As the gladiators did battle, the final course was served: chilled berries with cream and honeyed pastries. By the time dessert and the gladiators were finished, all was ready. The camp was struck, and everyone and everything was moved back onboard. The barge set off for Vestalanium.
Adventus Regis - Part 8: The Whispers Become Screams
Quote:
NOATALBA (pointing): Look, look! Carcosa—Carcosa is on fire!
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
The smell of smoke was the first thing they all noticed. To the south, Vestalanium was illuminated by a strange orange glow that lit the night sky. The barge sailed slowly towards a turn in the river, around a set of hills that blocked all view of the town. The decks slowly filled with people looking south.
Bijoux sniffed the air. Her ears flattened against her head. “The taint! I can smell it on the wind!”
“I hear screams,” said Cal.
The wind shifted, carrying with it a sound out over the water: a long, shrill scream. The sounds became louder and more frequent as the barge slowly drifted further down driver.
Rounding the bend in the river they could see that much of Vestalanium was in flames. Boats moored at the docks were afire. People ran everywhere, some with torches, others with makeshift weapons. Screams filled the night air and bloodstains covered the white marble of many buildings.
“Illiir have mercy!” shouted Beldin.
The town was gripped in madness. A woman jumped to her death off of a rooftop. An old man doused himself in lamp oil, and then leaped onto a burning cart. A howling gang armed with knives rushed after a handful of fleeing women and children. Death was everywhere.
“Turn her about!” Gaius shouted to the crew. “We are not landing. Take us back up river, NOW!”
“Good riddance,” said Ilmarė. “I didn’t like that town anyway.”
Sebastian had one hand over his mouth in a silent scream. “The villa,” he half-whispered. “I told Thralen to stay there with Emric…”
“They are in pain,” said Bijoux. “We must save what who we can.” And with that, she leaped onto the rail and launched herself into the air. She easily cleared the thirty feet from the barge to the shore.
“Pull us closer!” shouted Kham.
“Are you insane?” Gaius shouted back. “I’m not bringing us anywhere near there!”
“Pull us closer,” Kham said, his hand moving towards the hilt of Fleshripper, “or I will steer this boat myself.”
Several of Gaius’ crewmembers stepped up behind him, clubs in hand. “I don’t think…” His eyes widened.
Behind Kham, Cal was gripping his massive bearded axe. “Do it,” he said. “The dwarf can’t jump very far.”
Gaius gave the command and the barge drifted close enough for them to close the gap. As soon as they cleared the distance, the barge floated away.
“We’re a half mile outside of Vestalanium,” said Bijoux, sniffing the wind.
“We must get to Ravulus,” said Sebastian. “The boy is my responsibility.”
“That’s two miles away from the villa,” said Bijoux. “Our path will not be easy.”
“Screw the kid, I want my pistols back!” shouted Kham. “Do you have any idea how much the ladies are worth?”
THE KING: Hencefore, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known. And war between the masked men and the naked shall be perpetual and bloody, until I come again….or fail to come.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
There were several three- and four-story buildings on the block, none of which were yet on fire. At least two-dozen people had already leaped from the rooftops or hung themselves out of the upper story windows.
“Steel yourselves,” said Beldin, a dagger in his hand. “We have to cross that.”
Between them was a sea of shattered and moaning bodies.
Kham was already ahead of them. Someone reached out and grabbed his ankle.
“Let go of me!” he shouted. When the woman refused to relinquish her grip, Kham drew Fleshripper. “This is your last warning!” His eyes were wild. “Let go of me or—“
“Kham!” said Sebastian. “No!”
With a roar, Kham gripped Fleshripper with both hands and hacked downward. He struck again and again with an inhuman shriek. The death grip on his ankle was finally released.
“Kham…?” asked Ilmarė.
The Val was shuddering with rage. His lenses were off, such that they could see the whites that served as his pupils.
A well-dressed man stood on the edge of a nearby rooftop. “All hope is lost!” he screamed. Then he leaped to his death, crashing through a cart full of grapes.
The spectacle caused Kham to shriek at the top of his lungs. Then he turned and ran further into Vestalanium.
“We’d better catch him,” said Beldin, “before he kills again.”
“Where is he headed?” asked Bijoux.
Sebastian's features were a grim mask of determination. “Ravulus. We’ve got to get to the villa before he does.”
THE KING: Henceforth, Hastur and Alar will be divided forever. Forever shalt thou contend for mastery, and strive in bitter blood to claim which shall be uppermost: flesh or phantom, black or white.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
A group of men and women pitched torches into a doorway as the building slowly began to catch on fire. They had piled broken chairs and tables just inside the building.
“Kham’s gone mad!” shouted Sebastian.
On the other side of the street were four people with brushes and ladders painting a huge yellow sign upon the side of a building. Each of them also had the Yellow Sign painted on their tunics and togas.
“Cal, you’re in front. Beldin, take the back,” commanded Ilmarė. “Everyone else stay in the middle.”
They were almost clear of the street when a screaming man rushed out in front of them.
Cal advanced, but Ilmarė put out one hand to stop him.
The man was naked and covered in cuts and gashes. Blood ran off of him and a layer of broken glass clung to his flesh.
Bijoux stepped forward. “Are you…” she spotted a bed of broken bottles, carefully prepared, covered in blood. Beside the pile was the man’s carefully folded toga and discarded sandals. “Hurt?”
The man ran away, screaming, “He is here! He is here!”
Bijoux crouched to pursue.
Ilmarė grabbed her wrist. “Let him go.”
“But he will die,” Bijoux said, her slitted pupils focused on the man’s retreating back as he zigzagged through the street.
“He’s dead already,” said Ilmarė. “We need to focus on the living.”
THE KING: But think: Already you own the world. The great query is, Can you rule it? The query is the gift. The King in Yellow gives it into your hands, to hold…or to let loose. Choose, terrible children.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
They had finally reached the hills where the more well appointed villas were located. They arrived just in time to witness a crowd of crazed townspeople battering down the barricaded door to a villa. Servants threw out furniture from the second floor windows onto the mob, in a vain attempt to drive them away. It was clear that the mob would overcome the barricade in minutes.
“Stop them!” shouted Ilmarė.
The mob was armed with many torches. Most of them had gathered around a wagon filled with barrels of lamp oil.
“Give us your children and they shall be spared!” shouted the crowd.
Cal thudded towards the crowd with his axe. He slammed one aside with the flat of the blade, then two more to his right.
“Get that oil away from the torches!” shouted Sebastian.
Beldin rolled underneath the wagon and, with his back to the wall, pushed against the wagon with his feet. The wagon creaked but barely moved.
An older man screamed, “The Last King demands your children!” Then he lit himself ablaze.
The flailing conflagration stumbled towards…
“The wagon!” shouted Ilmarė. “Stop him Cal!”
The big lizard turned, but it was too late. The man threw himself onto the cart. In seconds, it would explode.
There were pleas from the people inside. The cries of children.
Cal bellowed an ear-splitting roar, louder than the screams and the crackling of the flames. His earflaps stood straight up.
“Not him too!” said Sebastian. “If we lose Cal…”
“Cal has not gone crazy,” said Bijoux. She watched with careful interest. “He’s just angry.”
Cal seemed to puff up another full foot. His claws extended as he pounded towards the smoldering wagon. With a mighty heave, the Ss’ressen grabbed the front of the wagon and lifted it over his head. He spun, his dilated eyes scanning the terrain for a place where it would be safe to throw it.
“No,” said Beldin through gritted teeth. “He’ll never get away in time!”
“I don’t think he plans to get away,” said Ilmarė.
With the wagon nearly on his back, Cal strained towards open ground. He almost made it.
The explosion was powerful enough to knock the sane and insane to the ground. Bits of flaming debris showered down around them.
And at the center of the wreckage, a blackened form lay still.
Adventus Regis - Part 13a: The Screams Become Silence
Quote:
THE KING: Until then, Carcosa will vanish; but my rule, I tell you now, is permanent, despite Aldebaran. Be warned.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
Inside the villa were a wealthy couple, their six children, and more than a dozen servants and slaves. They were all sane and unharmed.
“Will he survive?” asked the woman of the house.
Cal was a blackened shell of himself. His scales were scarred and flaking. The great chest rose and fell in slow, shuddering gasps.
“He’ll live,” said Bijoux. “Onara heals her children.”
“He does this all the time,” said Ilmarė.
“What happened here?” asked Sebastian.
“We saw the first fires just after dark,” said the male owner. “Then we started hearing the screams. We closed the gates and barred the doors, but it wasn’t enough. The mobs came into the hills, storming villa after villa. They were looking for children! We hid them, we did, and we tried to stop the mob but there was just too many of them. They dragged them out of the hiding place and outside to the woman.”
“The woman?” asked Ilmarė.
“She was tall and thin, dressed in white robes. On her breast was a large pendant with that sign, the yellow one from the play. She wore a pale mask and rode in upon a horse like some fiend. When the children were gathered before her she talked to them for a few minutes, and then blew a conch horn.”
“That’s when the monster appeared!” said one of the slaves.
“Monster?” asked Sebastian.
“It dropped out of the sky like a hawk. It was like a cursed union of bat and man, with horns like a ram. The thing grabbed the children and flew off into the night.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Beldin. “We’ve got to get to our equipment, fast.”
“We could hear the woman saying one of them might be chosen by the Nameless King for a great honor and that they were being taken to him for judgment. Then she rode off towards the arena.”
“We’ll need horses,” said Ilmarė.
“Done,” said the man of the house. “We can spare two horses, the rest we’ll need to leave town ourselves. They’re yours.”
“That’s not enough,” said Beldin.
Cal slowly rose to his feet. The soot flaked off of him as Bijoux’s healing magic took hold.
“No horse will allow me to ride it,” said Sebastian. He looked Cal up and down. “It’s enough.”
Adventus Regis - Part 13b: The Screams Become Silence
Quote:
THE KING: Thou wert promised a Dynasty by Truth, and in truth shalt thou have a dynasty. The kingdom of Hastur was first in all the world, and would have ruled the world, except for this: Carcosa did not want it.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
Ilmarė arrived at Ravulus first. The villa was ransacked.
She climbed two steps at a time to the second floor, to their rooms. The Elorii caught a glimpse of someone hacking down a door.
BLAM!
Ilmarė knew the telltale sound. It was the sound of one of Kham’s pistols firing.
Kham fell backwards into the doorway. The shot had gone wide, glancing off his shoulder. His pupiless eyes started, his face twisted into a hideous snarl. Then he bounded back into the room with Fleshripper raised high.
“Kham, Thralen! Stop it!” shouted Ilmarė.
Thralen, his back against a dresser, drew another of Kham’s pistols. He rolled to the side just as Fleshripper hacked a furrow of splinters into the dresser.
“Drop the pistols!” shouted Ilmarė
“Are you mad, woman? He’s trying to kill me!”
Thralen took careful aim at Kham’s head. This time he would not miss.
The Val lifted Fleshripper over his head…
“Radius Incensio!”
A gout of flames from Sebastian’s outstretched hand blasted Kham sideways. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Thralen kept two of Kham’s pistols trained on his prone form. “Easy,” said Ilmarė, lowering his arms by pushing down on the pistol barrels. “He went a little mad. Osalian knows he had good reason to.”
All energy drained out of Thralen then. He dropped the pistols. “They took Emric.”
THE KING: Also be promised: He who triumphs in this war shall be my—can I be honest?—inheritor, and so shall have the Dynasty back.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
As they rode along the western road out of the hills, there was a scream of terror. It came from above, out of the inky night sky.
Ilmarė pointed upwards. “There!”
Emric flew through the air, flailing frantically. He cried out for help.
But then it became clear that he was not moving of his own accord. He was being carried.
Matching the night with its midnight black fur was a creature that could only be the thing the servants described at the villa. With huge wings, long claws and curved ram’s horns, the creature stared down at them all. It tilted its head, its eyes filled with intelligence and curiosity as it quietly flapped its wings.
Bijoux launched herself into the air, claws outstretched.
She almost snagged Emric’s pant leg. But then the thing flew higher. It vanished from sight into the night.
“No!” shouted Bijoux as the updrafts failed her. She glided back to join the others. “I almost had him,” she sobbed. “I almost had him.”
“We saved him once,” said Ilmarė. “We will save him again.”
“I will not lose him!” said Bijoux, her delicate features filled with determination. She took a running leap and glided off ahead of them.
“Let’s go,” said Beldin, “before we have another Kham on our hands.” He clucked his horse into a trot.
Kham rode up the rear, his pistols all in their proper place and arrayed in his usual overcoat. Fleshripper was strapped across his back.
“Whoever this King is,” said Kham, “he’s about to experience a coup.”
THE KING: Hence, thereafter, Hastur and Alar divided; but those in Alar sent you from Aldebaran the Phantom of Truth and all was lost; together, you forgot the Covenant of the Sign. Now there is much which needs to be undone.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
A strange quiet had fallen over the ruins of Vestalanium. From their vantage point on the road, they could see that the fires were starting to burn themselves out. Few people moved along the streets, with only the occasional howl sounding a human presence.
The road eventually led to a large circular stone building; the arena. There was debris and blood everywhere, as well as a scattering of slowly cooling corpses. The gates remained open. Above them hung an enormous banner.
It read, “Adventus Regis,” and the three-armed symbol of the king seemed to glow in the darkness. Flags and banners still fluttered in the night wind.
Bijoux was perched on top of the banner, peering down into the arena. “It flew into the arena,” she said. “Emric’s in there somewhere.”
They dismounted their horses and cautiously entered a scene of utter carnage.
The inside of the arena was deserted. Blood, debris and scattered bodies littered the place. It was obvious a riot had broken out. Graffiti was scattered her and there, mostly written in blood. “The Last King,” and “Carcosa is now!” were common.
“I’m going to scope out the arena,” said Kham. And with that, he vaulted over the edge of the arena wall into the lamp-lit pit. Many of the thousand lamps set up all around the arena were still list, filling it with shadows.
There were many dead. Everywhere, they littered the benches. The air was thick with the stench of spilled blood.
The majority of the bodies wore the uniforms of the city guard. More than a few of them had thrown themselves on their swords, while others must have turned upon each other or on the crowd.
Sebastian pulled out a scroll. “I don’t like the looks of this. I’m going to scout ahead.” He read from the scroll and whispered, “invisus.” Then he disappeared.
“Great,” said Ilmarė. She unshouldered her bow. “Well I’ll guess the rest of us will provide a distraction.”
Adventus Regis - Part 16: The Stage Upon the Sands
Quote:
THE KING: In due course of starwheels, this strife will come to issue; but not now; oh, no, not now.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
Down in the center of what was usually the chariot course was a stage. It was untouched. The stage was set with the furniture of a throne room. Numerous figures, all dressed in strange costume, lay dead.
“They look like rag dolls,” said Kham, kneeling down to inspect one of the corpses. “No wounds. The entire cast is dead.”
If it were not for the looks of sorrow and terror frozen on their faces, they could have been asleep.
Something landed behind him. It was heavy.
“Cal?”
Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of the lamplight, there flopped rhythmically a hybrid, winged thing that no sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly remember. It was not altogether crow, nor mole, nor buzzard, nor ant, nor vampire bat, nor decomposed human being; but something Kham’s mind recoiled at the mere sight. It flopped limply along, half with its webbed feet and half with its membranous wings.
Then it came for Kham. He could barely make it out, but he could feel its presence. He put his pistols back in their holsters.
“You don’t deserve to be shot,” said Kham. “I’m going to take you apart.” He drew Fleshripper and his scimitar. “Slowly.”
THE KING: Hastur, you acceded to, and wore, the Pallid Mask. That is the price. Henceforth, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known.
--The King in Yellow: Act Two
Cloaked by his magic, Sebastian crept to the senator’s box. Two skillfully worked columns flanked a stout open door. The seal of Coryan was carved onto it surface. Upon the seal was painted the triscalion symbol of the strange King, his yellow sign. The paint still appeared wet and glowing, almost pulsing as if it were alive. A single red rose hung above the seal, secured to the door.
Sebastian slipped through the open doorway.
Inside, a short, heavyset man and a tall, beautiful woman knelt on the floor. They were well dressed, in robes of white embroidered with the yellow sign. Pale masks lay beside them on the carpet. A third man, Livius Carbo, was seated at a desk beside a large padded settee, busily writing. His hand moved quickly, making notes and corrections, glancing towards the couch as if waiting further instructions. All three appeared in rapture.
Draped over the couch was the dead body of the local prefect, Octavius. But something horrible had happened to it. It oozed and flowed over the settee, one foot spilling onto the carpets. It appeared boneless and unnatural, like an octopus hauled onto the deck of a fishing boat.
Although he did not fully understand what was happening, Sebastian knew that the book Livius was writing in must have been very important. It didn’t take him long to decide what to do. It was a spell he had used before, dumping a chamber pot on an overzealous thug.
“Magis attrecto!”
The book flew out from underneath Livius’ quill and spiraled into the darkness of the arena. It landed with a light plop.
With a shriek of horror, Livius dove after it, right off the balcony onto the soft sand.
Slowly, the eyes set into drooping sockets turned towards Sebastian, focusing on him despite his invisibility. The tongue twitched as it wheezed. It drew breath into itself and spoke in a groaning, deep voice. “It seems we are interrupted. Welcome to my court.”
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