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

[talien]

Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe was located on Dreaming Street in Scurvytown. There was only a dingy signboard depicting an open book and a glowing candle with the words “Rudolph’s Exotic Book Shoppe” printed underneath them.

“Are you sure this is the place?” asked Vlad from across the street. “It doesn’t look like a drug den.”

“It’s not supposed to.” Kham nodded at the storefront. “Keep watching.”

At random intervals, people who looked more like derelicts than scholars wandered in and out of the shop. They entered the shop in a rush and cast furtive glances in all directions as they approached the entrance. Patrons leaving the shop seemed disoriented or drunk, often stumbling in the street.

“I’m going in invisible.” Kham tapped a clear vial in one hand with his thumb. “Sebastian, Beldin, you go in and say the passphrase: I’d like to see your exotic-book reading room, please. I’ll sneak in behind you.”

“I recommend we all keep our cloaks up and scarves across our noses,” said Sebastian. “If those mercenaries really were working for this Well-Dressed Man, they may know what we look like.”

“And THAT’S not suspicious.” Ilmarė’s arms were crossed.

“Trust me, the clientèle here all looks like that,” said Kham.

Ilmarė was skeptical of any plan Kham came up with as a matter of survival. “What happens after you go inside?”

“You and Vlad wait five minutes, then come in and say the same pass phrase. If things go sour, I’ll give you the signal.”

“What’s the signal?” asked Vlad.

Kham pointed both forefingers and, imitating a pistol, fired with his thumbs. “That signal.”

Then he took a swig of the vial and disappeared.

[talien]

Sebastian and Beldin entered a dimly lit shop with bookcases lining the walls. Carpet completely covered the floor and a floor-to-ceiling curtain concealed the wall opposite the door. An elderly man sat hunched over a desk in front of the curtained wall. A candelabrum burned in front of him, shining light on the book he was reading.

The man looked over the rim of his glasses as Sebastian as he entered. “Hello there.” He motioned to the bookcases. “Please look around and see if there is anything you like. If you need any help just ask.” He returned to reading his book.

Sebastian swallowed and stepped up to the desk. “I’d like to see your exotic book reading room, please.”

The man motioned behind the curtained back wall to a door at the far end of a passage. “The password is: Drac.”

Sebastian nodded and moved towards the curtain.

“Nobody mentioned anything about another password,” muttered Beldin from behind his scarf.

Sebastian shushed him as he pushed the curtain aside. It led to a dark passage that culminated in a large door.

Steeling himself, the dark-kin made his way to the door. A slot abruptly slid open. A pair of squinting eyes greeted him. “What’s the password?” asked someone in a gruff voice.

“Drac,” said Sebastian. He waited.

Nothing happened. Beldin slowly started to reach for the axe on his back…

Then the door creaked open. Beldin stepped inside and out of sight.

“I’m looking for ghoul juice,” said Sebastian, stalling. “Do you know where I can get some?”

The man, his features concealed by shadow, muttered something about dark-kin. “Not here,” he hissed back. “Inside.”

Something tugged on Sebastian’s cloak. It was just enough to let him know that Kham had just whisked past him. The guard didn’t seem to notice.

They continued down the corridor to another door. Beldin stood in front of it, unsure of what to do next. “Now what?”

Sebastian took another deep breath. “Try to act natural.” Then he opened the door.

[talien]

Ilmarė and Vlad entered the dimly lit shop, with bookcases lining the walls. Carpet completely covered the floor and a floor-to-ceiling curtain concealed the wall opposite the door. An elderly man sat hunched over a desk in front of the curtained wall. A candelabrum burned in front of him, shining light on the book he was reading.

The man looked over the rim of his glasses as Ilmarė entered. “Hello.” He motioned to the bookcases. “Take a look and see if there’s anything you like. If you need help, just ask.” He returned to reading his book.

Ilmarė leaned forward. As she did so, a purple lock fell across one eye. She tucked it back under the hood of her cloak. “I’d like to see your exotic book reading room, please.”

The man stared at her. Then he motioned behind the curtained back wall to a door at the far end of a passage. “The password is: Froese.”

Ilmarė nodded and pushed the curtain aside. It led to a dark passage that culminated in a large door.

Steeling herself, the elorii made her way to the door. A slot abruptly slid open. A pair of squinting eyes greeted her. “What’s the password?” asked someone in a gruff voice.

“Froese,” said Ilmarė. She waited.

Nothing happened. Vlad slowly started to reach for the hilt of Grungronazharr.

Then an alarm went off.

Ilmarė drew her thinblade as a crossbow jutted from the slot.

“Damn it, I knew Kham’s plan wouldn’t work!”

[talien]

As Sebastian walked into the smoke-filled room, a pungent odor assaulted his senses. The windowless room was quite dark inside, with only a few dim candles held in sconces along the walls to illuminate the room.

Scattered about were a few couches and chairs. In the room’s center lay three round, cushion-lined depressions. A few patrons sat here and there, smoking or drinking according to their preference. There were six curtained-off cubicles along the back wall.

Sebastian spotted a bald, older man behind a counter to his right; the well-dressed man held an exquisite quarterstaff across his lap. A small, barred window sat behind him next to an ironbound door. An extremely tall woman, arms crossed in front of her, stood before the door.

The dark-kin made his way over to the man. “I’d like to buy some drugs,” he said stiffly.

The old man chuckled and abruptly turned to face Sebastian. His eyes were milky white. “That depends on what kinds of flavor you’re looking for. Snakeweed will cost you three silver, ghoul juice costs one doubloon, and abyss dust costs two doubloons.

Sebastian pretended to think it over. “Two vials of ghoul juice please. One for me and one for my friend.” He slipped two gold doubloons onto the counter in front of the man.

A young man stumbled out of one of the cubicles and collapsed on a nearby couch.

The Well-Dressed Man felt in front of him for the coins. He rubbed each coin between his fingers. Nodding to himself, he turned and slid the coins through the grate behind him. A few moments later, gnarled hands handed him three vials. He spun back to place the vials before him.

“You’re blind,” Sebastian said out loud.

“I am,” said the Well-Dressed Man. “Is that a problem?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Not at all. It’s just that you gave us one too many vials.” He could feel Beldin tense up behind him.

“Quite the contrary,” said the Well-Dressed Man. “My sense of hearing is very acute. I gave you the correct number of vials. One for you, one for your dwarf friend…and one for the fellow in the swishing overcoat trying to sneak past me.”

“Sarish’s ass!” swore Kham.

Just then the alarm went off.

[talien]

Kham fired two shots, but the Well-Dressed Man seemed to know where he was aiming before he fired. He twisted and the two pistol blasts perforated the wall behind him.

“Next time, I’m dumping the overcoat,” he muttered.

“Rebecca! Stop them!” The Well-Dressed Man took a deep breath.

Drug addicts stumbled around clumsily, struggling to find sanctuary. Some of them ran half-naked out of the curtained alcoves.

Sebastian turned towards the tall woman, who advanced on him with sword drawn. “Rebecca, is it? Nice to meet you. My name’s Sebastian. So now that we’re acquainted: Medicates privatus!”

The Well-Dressed Man hopped onto the counter in front of him without effort or hesitation. He exhaled and a gout of flames blasted towards Kham.

Kham dove to the side as he drew two more pistols. “What the hell kind of drugs are you people taking?” He landed on one of the comfortable couches.

Beldin charged forward. The Well-Dressed Man’s staff blurred. Wood struck metal with a resounding crack, and the dwarf stumbled sideways.

“Don’t help or anything!” shouted Kham.

“I am helping!” Sebastian shot back. “Rebecca, there’s an elf and a Milandisian outside. Let them in!”

The warrior woman nodded and ran out of the room.

The Well-Dressed Man spun his staff in front of him. “Your pitiful hand crossbows cannot penetrate my defenses.”

“Oh yeah?” Kham cocked the levers on both of his pistols. “Finn wanted me to pass on a message: Don’t mess with the Syndicate.”

The retort and smoke of two pistols added to the room. When it cleared, the Well-Dressed Man lay on the floor, dead.

Kham holstered his two pistols.

“Wow,” said Beldin, rubbing his jaw. “He really was blind.”

[talien]

There was a brief tussle behind the door. The crossbow disappeared from the slot. Then it slowly creaked open.

A tall, muscular woman stood in the doorway. Her eyes seemed a bit glazed. She peered at them both. “You an elf?” she asked Ilmarė.

“Elorii,” Ilmarė replied.

“Close enough,” said the woman. “Sebastian’s waiting for you. Follow me.”

Vlad exchanged glances with Ilmarė, but they followed her down the dark hallway with weapons drawn.

Several drug addicts stumbled past them as they entered.

“I brought them as you asked,” she said in a dull monotone.

Sebastian flashed her a brief smile. “Thanks, Rebecca.”

Kham came back into the room. “I can’t find my father anywhere! I’ve torn the other rooms apart.”

Sebastian turned towards his new friend. “Rebecca? Do you know the way down?”

She nodded. “I do. I can show you if you like, but I can’t go down any further.”

“Why not?” asked Beldin.

Rebecca’s features narrowed with distrust as she took in the dwarf for the first time.

“Why not?” repeated Sebastian.

“Because the boss wouldn’t like it.”

Kham kicked the Well-Dressed Man with his foot. “You mean this wasn’t him?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Nah.”

“So the whole Well-Dressed Man act was a façade for something else,” said Sebastian. “Your father’s probably down there with him, her, or it.”

Rebecca walked through a doorway into a short hall and touched a part of the wall in three places. A doorway slid open.

Sebastian was about to rush past her, when the big woman grabbed the dark-kin in a crushing kiss. When Rebecca finally let him go, he gasped for air.

“Be careful,” said Rebecca. “They’ll be waiting for you.” Then she jogged out of the room.

Sebastian wiped the back of his mouth with his hand in disgust.

Kham shook his head in disbelief. “Sebastian and women. I’ll never understand it.” He took another swig of a potion and disappeared.

[talien]

The stairs led down into a large, dank room with a dirt floor. In the center of the room was a tall, iron candelabrum with ten lit candles. The scant light produced by the tapers caused shadows to dance about the room. Scattered throughout the area were numerous crates, barrels, boxes and sacks.

“Count to five,” whispered Kham to Sebastian from seemingly nowhere. “Then do what you do best…besides charming women.”

Beldin burst open the door. “Knock, knock!” he roared.

Several unsavory-looking men wielding cutlasses greeted Beldin at the foot of the stairs.

“ONE!” shouted Beldin. He batted aside a cutlass with his axe and shoved the man backwards with the haft.

Kham catapulted himself over the sea dogs heads and landed in the midst of them. But they couldn’t see him, and they were far too preoccupied with the angry dwarf at the foot of the stairs.

“TWO!” Two more sea dogs struggled to take on the living wall that was Beldin. He smashed one in the face with his shield and hacked the other one back down the steps, cleaving his cutlass in the process.

An effeminate-looking elorii in swashbuckling grab stood safely at the side of the stairs, egging his companions on. Near as Kham could tell, he provided no value whatsoever.

“THREE!” A fourth sea dog lunged, only to have his cutlass caught by the wicked curve of Beldin’s axe. The dwarf twisted and the man spun sideways.

Kham ducked his head into a rectangular room. A long table with many chairs dominated the center, while double bunk beds lined the walls. It was the crew’s quarters. Kham closed the door.

“FOUR!” Beldin had yet to actually move from the steps. One sea dog hurled his cutlass in frustration. It bounced off Beldin’s shield.

Kham ducked inside one room when the elorii wasn’t looking. It had beautiful rugs adorning the floors and was lit with golden candlesticks. There was a plush couch along one wall, a carved wooden armoire, and a comfortable-looking bed.

“Must be a woman’s quarters,” said Kham. Then he realized it was probably the elorii’s.

“FIVE!” Beldin just crossed his arms and waited.

The sea dogs froze, unsure of what he was up to.

“Incendiaries globus!” shouted Sebastian.

As the flames engulfed them, they figured it out pretty quickly.

[talien]

A secret door opened to a staircase that culminated in a circular room. The walls appeared to have suffered from a cave-in. Mosaic tiles on the floor depicted a massive, coiled snake baring its fangs.

“Stupid humans,” said Ilmarė. “They’re recycling ssanu lairs.”

“One snake replacing another,” said Kham from nowhere. “Cover me.”

Two guards charged forward from the opposite side of the room, only to be met by Vlad and Beldin. A door opened as Kham entered…

“Ah HA!” shouted the swashbuckling elorii on the other side. He lunged forward with his rapier, spearing at the air where surely someone must have entered.

“Ah ha your damn self,” said Kham. Two pistol blasts caused the elorii to twist backwards. Unfortunately, it also caused him to lose his invisibility. The two combatants separated from each other across the door while the battle raged outside of the room.

They were in a circular room filled with bas-relief carvings on the walls. The craftsmanship was incredible, depicting strange serpent men engaged in a wide variety of activities. In the center of the room was a round, sunken couch appointed with plush cushions. Scattered about the place were cages filled with exotic birds.

“Dad!” shouted Kham.

Chained to the wall at the far end of the room was a gaunt older man, wearing a blue robe and cracked pince-nez. He looked up, almost unable to speak. “Son!”

“We can’t have the family reunion interrupted,” said the elorii. With a flourish, he pulled a wand from his puffy shirt and pointed it at the doorway. “Casses!”

A spew of white and gray webbing filled the room. A dwarvish curse on the other side indicated the ploy had worked.

Kham ran full tilt towards his father, stopping short only when a woman blocked his path. She wore black studded leather and knee-high boots. Her waist-length flame-red hair was tightly woven into dreadlocks, and a wicked scar crossed from the top of her forehead to the middle of her right cheek. Kham focused on the shimmering cutlass in her hand.

“Shantar, keep them out,” said the woman. “This one’s mine.”

“Aye, aye captain,” said the blonde-locked elorii known as Shantar. He slammed the door shut.

Kham dove and rolled. The cutlass struck a glancing blow, tearing off a piece of his overcoat.

“I don’t know who you are lady,” Kham said, feinting left, and right. The captain matched his every movement, her cutlass always pointed at his nose. “But you’re pissing me off.”

Shantar leaned his back on the door and began picking at his nails with a long stiletto. He started to whistle a tuneless melody.

“Your father is worth a lot of money,” she said. “It’s not personal.”

“It is to me,” said Kham. He dodged past her but not fast enough. She slashed him across the thigh.

Kham stumbled over to his father and fired at one of the manacles. It snapped apart.

He placed the other pistol in his father’s bruised palm. “Here dad. You get a good shot, you take it, understand?”

Before Corinalous could respond, a cutlass whistled through the air where Kham’s head had been. He jumped backwards and pulled two more pistols from his overcoat.

“Ustilo radius!”

Shantar, who had been standing in the doorway, was suddenly engulfed in a blast of flames as door and elorii gave way. Sebastian stood framed in the doorway, his fingertips smoking from the conflagration.

“A sorcerer?” The redheaded captain put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Suddenly, all the birds flew out of their cages. The room was filled with a cloud of brightly colored feathers and high-pitched tweeting.

“You have not seen the last of me, worthless scum! Captain Baumann will live to fight another day!” she shouted. “When that day comes, I will hunt you down and skewer you one by one. Watch your back…”

When the birds finally calmed down, she was gone.

Corinalous struggled to his feet. “There isn’t much time. We’ve must find my friend Flint. He told me to meet him at The Last Resort. I fear it is already too late.”

Ilmarė blanched. “What is this white stuff all over the floor?”

[talien]

When they finally arrived at The Last Resort, it was easy to find out Flint’s room number from Bobbin.

“The gnome said he wouldn’t be getting many visitors,” said Bobbin. “But they’ve been coming in all day. Rough-looking types went up to call on Flint a half-hour ago.”

“Wait,” said Vlad. “I know that gnome. I was having a beer with him today!”

They rushed up the steps. The door was partially ajar. Corinalous pushed the door open.

Flint was still in the room, although it looked as though he would never leave it again under his own power—or in one piece, for that matter.

The gnome lay splayed on the room’s solitary bed. His throat was cut wide and his chest sliced open, with the contents of the latter piled sloppily at his feet. Blood, bile, and other viscera soaked into the mattress and puddled onto the floor below. These substances were also used to scrawl a series of words and symbols on the wall over the bed.

“That’s no language I’ve ever seen,” said Ilmarė.

Corinalous stood over the corpse of his friend, shaking his head. “Oh Flint. I told you not to pursue this.”

Kham peered at the words. “Leviathan, we offer these gifts in your name. O Master of the Seas, guide us as we struggle in your foul name. Bloody One, grant us strength.”

“Leviathan?” Vlad took a step back. “Did you say Leviathan?”

Between the unhallowed words, Kham could make out one design that was almost familiar: an octopus’ head. As he looked closer, he realized something strange about the design: five stars circle the dome of the octopus.

Corinalous lifted up a heel of the dead gnome’s boot and, twisting it slightly, pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment.

He handed the parchment to Kham. It was browned, faded and roughened to the consistency of leather.

They stepped out of the room and downstairs. Sebastian took Bobbin aside to explain what happened.

Kham unrolled the parchment onto a nearby table. It expanded into a cracked five-foot square map, with wear along the edges.

The map had no indications of scale or direction; the trails of latitude and longitude began at the margins of the map, but they didn’t extend more than a few inches. Five islands rendered in ochre by an unsteady hand dominated the map, forming a rough circle.

Four of the island drawings featured terrain markings—mountains, jungles, natural harbors, and so forth. In addition, a unique icon sat below each of the four islands: a prosthetic hook, a spyglass, a ship’s bell, and a pistol. The fifth island was blank, save for a symbol in its middle—an octopus head and crossbones with five stars ringed above the dome of the head—and a single word beneath it: R’LYEH.

“That’s the sign of Leviathan,” said Vlad again, tapping the octopus head. “So the Leviathan cult has finally made it to Freeport.”

“There’s an inscription in the corner here,” said Ilmarė. “By a ship-wrack’d hand, late of Freeport, a veteran of the great campaign, as a warning to all: here there be terrors beyond all reckoning. There’s a date too: several days short of one hundred and fifty years ago.”

Another patch of ocean set off in a triangle and filled with a picture of a whirling vortex of water sat in another corner of the map, falling inside the latitude and longitude coordinate markings.

“This part reads, Hell’s Triangle,” said Beldin from his side of the map. “There’s an icon of a sextant. The text below it reads: Safe transit, housed in Freeport, the gift of noble Carthy.”

Corinalous leaned back in his chair, weary and drawn. The adrenaline had worn off.

“Flint acquired that map a few month ago. Not being able to make head or tail of it, he corresponded with me. I assured him that the map wash extremely valuable. I planned to book passage to Freeport on the Wasser Madchen, but it crossed paths with the Kraken’s Claw at sea and was sunk. I told Captain Baumann I knew how to get my hands on a load of treasure.”

“Well, that explains why you weren’t answering my messages,” said Kham. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his father’s presence. “You’ve got to rest up. If the Cult of Leviathan has come to Freeport, it’s not safe here.

Corinalous nodded. “I will look after Flint’s corpse and spread his ashes. I have…” his gazed lingered on Kham’s emerald, “…a safe house in Freeport. We can hide there while we figure out what to do next.”

Ilmarė looked back and forth between Corinalous and Kham. “If you’re Kham’s father, what’s up with that accent?”

“What accent?” asked Corinalous.

“What matters is that we got came for,” said Sebastian. He bowed his head slightly to Corinalous.

“Yeah,” said Kham, patting several vials of stolen ghoul juice in the folds of his overcoat. “We got what we came for.”

[talien]

This is a Living Arcanis adventure set in the Arcanis setting, written by Jeffrey Witthauer and Jeffrey Meehan. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Nauris Drilian (human rogue/ranger) played by Mike Best
• Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

This adventure, known as “the one where Kham gets rid of Fleshripper,” took an interesting turn. For one, we changed the main character of Corinalous to be Kham’s father. Corinalous is the right age as well as a val’Abebi, so that fits nicely.

For another, mixing the events of The King in Yellow with the dream world seriously warps the reality of the game. What’s real and what’s not? As if Kham didn’t have enough problems, this adventure forces him to face the ghosts of his past. Literally.

Unfortunately for our heroes, even after they complete their mission within the sword, they’re not going to get back to Arcanis that quickly.

[talien]

Kham was shown into a large drawing room, high ceilinged and comfortable with blue settees and a deep green carpet. There were several objects of art in evidence: a white ivory tusk with a circular procession of figures carved around its length and a brass polar bear lazing on a crystal ice floe to name two. Kham sat down on one of the settees.

Corinalous soon appeared. He looked very pale and drawn. He was a dark-skinned Altherian, with long white hair and moustache.

“Hi, dad.” Kham didn’t get up. “Long time, no see.”

Corinalous sat down on the other settee. “I wanted to speak with you first before I spoke to your friends.”

“Do you remember the last time we had a quiet drink?” Kham poured two glasses of wine from a carafe.

Corinalous took the offered glass. “Hmm…what did we talk about?”

“We didn’t talk,” said Kham. He took a sip. “We never talked.”

“And do I detect a rebuke?”

“A regret. It was just the two of us, dad. It was a lonely way to grow up. For you, too. If you had been an ordinary, average father like the other guys' dads, you'd have understood that.“

“Actually, I was a wonderful father."

“When?"

“Did I ever tell you to eat up? Go to bed? Wash your ears? Do your homework? No. I respected your privacy and I taught you self-reliance."

“What you taught me was that I was less important to you than the Emerald Society; less important than people who had been dead for five hundred years in another country. And I learned it so well that we've hardly spoken for twenty years."

“Kham, it’s true, I’ve stayed away from Freeport ever since I discovered you had made it his base of operations.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been totally truthful with you, son.” He nodded towards the huge sword that was never far from Kham’s side. “That…thing and I were acquainted before. And I knew I had to get it as far away from you as I possibly could.”

“That’s why you were always gone? Because of a stupid sword?”

“Fleshripper’s not just a sword, son.” Corinalous’ gaze fixed on Kham. “You can feel it already, can’t you? It’s like a leech in your soul, drawing out your life; and yet you cannot bear to be parted from it. I thought that I could control it too. After much research, it became clear that there was only one thing I could do: I used an ancient ritual to bind my life force to the sword. After that, it could no longer steal the souls of its victims, and it could no longer exert its will so easily on its wielder. But I was wrong. The sword has a great power, one I could not contain. It slowly draws upon the soul of its wielder, until eventually that soul is consumed by the sword as well. You’ve probably felt that pull before, and I imagine it’s stronger now.”

Kham nodded, wordlessly. It was almost unbearable, the urge to kill his own father.

“My proximity to the blade is doubtless causing it to stir, and it is that reason the Emerald Society has not stepped in until now, as per my wishes. I am sorry I had to cause you so much pain, son, but it was the only thing I could do until I figured out how to defeat the cursed blade once and for all.”

“That explains why all my requests to have Fleshripper examined were denied.” Kham took another swig. “It doesn’t explain how the sword ended up in my hands though.”

“I hid the sword away in a secret location, hoping it would lay undisturbed until I found a way to destroy it permanently. But the sword had different plans. It fell into the hands of hobgoblins, and thanks to their depredations soon absorbed enough souls to waken again. Then it crossed your path. I think something more sinister is at work here, and it’s manipulating events to ensure that a val’Abebi wields Fleshripper.”

“This artifact-hunting, it’s an obsession, dad.” Kham patted the hilt of Fleshripper like an old friend. “I never understood it. Never. Neither did mom.”

“Oh, yes she did,” said Corinalous softly. “Only too well. She never approved of my adventures, but I thought training you as a librarian would better suit your temperament and hers…”

“It didn’t work, dad.” Kham turned away. “It didn’t work for Lucius either.”

“No,” said Corinalous with a sad smile. “It didn’t seem to take. And here we are, twenty years later in Freeport. I never thought you’d run off to join the pirates.”

“I’m not a pirate, dad.” Kham bit his lip. “But what did you expect? That’s all you ever talked about.”

“I don’t deny it. For the past thirty years, I’ve read almost everything I could get my hands on about piracy, from the escapades of Drac and Francisco to their predecessor, Jarl One-Eye. That’s why I came to Freeport. I received a letter from an old friend, Flint. He had found a weathered map that appeared to lead to untold treasures. From his description and my long studies, I knew it could be only one thing—the map to legendary R’lyeh.”

“I remember,” said Kham. “You always talked about finding that island. It only appears once every couple of hundred years, right?”

R’lyeh had been the subject of sailors’ tales for well over a hundred years: a fabulous island that had ever been lost at sea on which the god, Yarris, placed vast amounts of treasure. Its beached had sand of gold dust, the trees flowered with pearls and diamonds, and the streams ran with the purest silver. Many men had sought R’lyeh, and they had met their doom in Hell’s Triangle in their search for it.

Corinalous nodded. “Maybe longer than that. It was that discovery, coupled with the fact that Lucius had returned to Freeport, that forced my hand; I had to go to Freeport, even if it meant putting you at risk.”

“But then you crossed Captain Baumann.”

“I was on my way to visit Judge McGowan when she attacked my ship and took me prisoner. I told her enough to save my life—that I had a secret that would lead her to great treasure. But I didn’t tell her the rest. I knew my life was forfeit as soon as I did, and I held out hopes my old friend Flint would find a way to rescue me.” Corinalous looked over at the urn containing Flint’s ashes. “Fortunately for me, you got to me first. Poor Flint.”

“I got suspicious when you didn’t respond to my sendings.”

Corinalous stroked his moustache. “Ah, the irony: the one time you contact me is when I’m not around.”

“Yeah, real ironic.” Kham sighed. “Listen, dad, why are you against Lucius being freed from The Tombs? He’ll die in there.”

“He’s a murderer,” said Corinalous. “Or at least, he was part of a murder. The domestic staff called for me on the night that Lucius’ father and sister was killed. The bodies were in the drawing room.”

“What happened to them?”

“Herbert Roby’s body had been entirely drained of blood, seemingly from a deep wound in the upper chest. No blood from the corpse was apparent. Georgina Roby had been attacked with a sharp instrument, perhaps a broad ax if wielded by one very strong or in a great passion.”

“That doesn’t prove that Lucius did anything.”

“Lucius was in the house during the murders. When I went upstairs to see him, Lucius declared that it was he who had killed his father and sister. He wouldn’t explain and was hysterical with grief—his sister’s fate appeared to affect him particularly. I could not equate Lucius with the murders, both from what I knew about him and from the manner of the deaths: there was no physical evidence linking him to the killings such as one would expect with such a bloody crime. Lucius was not held in custody for long, but he seemed a broken man. I had Lucius under confinement for some time, but at some point he disappeared and we lost track of him.”

“He was possessed by…something,” said Kham. “He went on a long voyage for years. I guess he started it with a murder. But he’s a good man, dad. He may be a little confused, but he doesn’t deserve to be sent to The Hulks. And for someone like him, that’s a death sentence.”

Corinalous nodded. “I know. But I fear he’s being manipulated by the same forces influencing the sword.” He was besieged by a violent bout of coughing. “And if it means people must die, so be it.”

Kham took a long drink. “You didn’t used to be this way.”

Corinalous stood up. “This is not one of those bedtime stories I used to tell you about pirates, son. This is deadly serious. Many lives are at stake. I’ve seen what the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign can do—“

“So have I,” said Kham. “But that doesn’t—“

“I’m dying,” said Corinalous.

Kham clamped his jaw shut.

Corinalous walked over to Kham so he could look him in the eye. “Fleshripper is drawing on my soul, even now. If I die, nothing will hold it back from regaining its full evil might. Truth be told, I don’t mind if I die. I’ve lived a long life. But you…it will take you next. And that is simply…”

“Intolerable?” Kham finished for him. If his father was anything, he was predictable.

“Intolerable,” Corinalous said with a slow smile. “We’ve got stop Fleshripper before it takes you too. I discovered a ritual that will stop the curse and separate you from the blade, but I cannot do it alone.” He put one hand on Kham’s shoulder. “I’m sorry son, but this task falls to you. There is a grove of hills not far from Freeport, with a pure spring that should serve our purpose.”

Kham took a deep breath. “Okay, dad. Tell me what we need to do.”

“Gather your friends,” said Corinalous. “We must hurry, my mere presence is awakening the blade as it grows hungry.”

“This conversation isn’t over, dad,” said Kham. “This thing with Lucius…he’s running out of time.”

Corinalous tightened his grip on Kham’s shoulder. It was the most affection Kham had received from his father in years. “I’m hoping it’s just the beginning of many conversations. Let’s go.”

[talien]

If anything, Corinalous seemed weaker the next morning, his body wracked with almost constant coughs.

“We don’t have much time, apparently,” he rasped. He turned to Kham’s companions. Beldin Soulforge, the stout dwarf. Ilmarė Galen, the sarcastic elorii. Vlad Martell, the able warrior. Nauris Drilian, the stealthy tracker. And of course, Kham val’Abebi.

“And now you must decide who will accompany Kham on his journey. It is likely to be dangerous, and I do not know what sort of resistance you may encounter. Not only are there evil souls mingled with the good inside the blade, but the blade itself is awakening to evil power. I cannot guarantee your safety – but then, in life, what safety is guaranteed to any of us?"
He smiled wryly.

They exchanged glances. “We’re in,” said Vlad. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Then please, sit.”

Once all of them were seated, Corinalous draws himself up, looking at each of them.

“I am going to send your souls into Fleshripper. When you are ready to return, remember that you have this.” He brought forth a gemstone of cut glass and handed it to Kham. “Break this after you have destroyed the source of the sword's power, and your souls will return to your bodies. I do not know what you will find within the sword, but remember that not all things may be as they appear. Do not trust your eyes, and take nothing for granted.”

“Right,” said Kham. He sat in the center of the circle of companions.

Corinalous passed his arms above his head, muttering something under his breath. A light, silvery thread connected all those who sat before him. “The fate of thousands of souls rests on you. Good luck.” He looked at Kham. “Draw the sword.”

Kham drew Fleshripper.

Corinalous nodded, then said calmly, “Drive it through your heart.”

Kham balked. “Excuse me?”

“Drive it through your heart, boy,” snapped Corinalous. “It’s necessary for the ritual.”

“I can help,” said Ilmarė.

Kham ignored her. He stared hard at his father.

“I know this is difficult,” said Corinalous softly. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Kham took another deep breath. “Okay.” He took two more deep breaths. Then he plunged Fleshripper through his own chest.

[talien]

Each of them, as one, felt the steel of Fleshripper slamming through their heart. Each of them felt their heart burst under the pain, and then the quick sensation of falling, falling into death.

After a moment, they felt an icy grasp and suddenly, unnaturally, their souls were drawn into darkness, then swirling colors, then darkness again.

They were standing on a grassy hill, surrounded by a fog from which came strange shapes. Creatures from twisted imaginations fly through the air. The terrain formed and reshaped itself, flowing like water, while streams of water twisted and loop through the air itself, flowing upwards then back down again.

Everyone was left gasping from the experience. Only the dwarf and the elf stood resolute.

“What?” asked Beldin, looking around. “This is about one-tenth of the pain I experience every time my body dies and my soul is drawn to my shard.” He fingered the crystal shard that hung from an amulet around his neck.

“We’re in the Dreamheart,” said Ilmarė, looking around. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Because you didn’t have the magic to do so?” asked Dril.

“Because I do not sleep,” said Ilmarė. “And I see it’s not only the landscape that has changed.”

Vlad appeared as the hero he imagined himself to be. He was accoutered in shining full plate, filigreed with gold. He seemed nobler, stronger, more sure of himself.

Dril, on the other hand, was a creature of shadowy darkness. A black cloak billowed around him. Red eyes shone from beneath a deep hood.

“That’s about how I would imagine you two would look,” said Kham. “But the dwarf. Wow, Beldin. You must have some ego.”

Beldin’s change was the most dramatic. He was taller then them all; huge, muscular, handsome, and virile. His eyes blazed with silvery fire and his skin was golden. He was a god among men, an ancient titan of old, before the curse of Illiir brought the dwarves low.

Beldin gold skin turned slightly bronze on his cheeks. He was blushing. “This is who I truly am,” he said with a grimace. “It is a reminder of the glory that was before the Age of Man.”

“And you look exactly the same,” said Vlad to Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shrugged. “Elven souls are unchanging across time. I am exactly who I wish to be, no more, no less.”

“What about me?” Kham fished out the stone Corinalous had given him, just to confirm they still had a way home. It was unchanged, firm and solid in a world where everything else seems mutable. He tried to catch his reflection in the stone, but the light kept shifting.

Everyone just stared at him.

Kham took his lenses off. “Are my pupils back?”

Vlad slowly nodded.

“Good.” Kham reflexively put his hand on the hilt of Fleshripper, only to discover it wasn’t with him. Of course it wasn’t! Kham chastised himself. He was so accustomed to the cursed blade’s presence that he felt naked without it.

He grinned at his companions with a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Let’s figure out how to end this curse, shall we?” And with that, he walked off in a random direction.

“Did you see…?” asked Vlad.

Ilmarė nodded. “I know,” she said. “He looks like a ghoul.”

[talien]

They were not alone in the strange dreamscape. The sounds of battle raged all around, along with occasional, haunting glimpses of the broken and bloody bodies of men, dwarves and hobgoblins.

Then through the mists appeared a small party of dwarves, led by a tall, shapely woman whose beauty was only marred by the scars on her face. Her troops’ armor was made of liquid shadow, blurred and shifting.

“Reavers,” snarled Beldin. The dwarves had weld marks binding their shadowy armor shut over their bodies.

The troop as one turned to gaze at the Solani dwarf, then began moving towards him, despite the fact that their feet were marching in a different direction entirely.

“So that would be the evil we’re here to defeat,” said Kham.

The woman sneered. “I can smell the stink of heroism on them,” she cooed in a voice like a whisper. Her words echoed from all around, causing swirls of color and light as they passed through the fog of dreams. “Kill them.”

Vlad drew Grungronhozarr. Beldin drew his battleaxe. Dril drew a scimitar and dagger. They waited as the Reavers closed.

Two of the Reavers fell as bullet holes appeared in their helmets. Another spun sideways, the victim of two arrows jutting from the eyeholes of a helmet.

At a cliff high above them, more dwarves battled men in armor of shimmering light, dueling upside-down on the underside of the cliff face. Fading into view through the fog was a massive melee between dwarves and hobgoblins on one side, and men and dwarves on the other, fighting on the top of a strange purple lake.

”You’re getting better.” Kham holstered two of his smoking pistols and drew two more. “That’s a difficult shot.”

Ilmarė smirked. “Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.” Another Reaver fell from carefully aimed arrows.

On the cliff face above, which had suddenly shifted into a rolling plain and was now almost directly below them, the tide of battle turned as a new squad of men in shimmering white armor appeared. They were led by a tall, proud, and scarred Coryani, who broke the line of Reavers.

Beldin roared. He was easily Calactyte’s equal in size and strength, batting aside the smaller Reavers like a child throwing a tantrum at her playthings.

The Coryani leader looked around, and for a moment his eyes locked with Kham’s. He barked an order, impossible to make out over the din. His men, running in slow motion, began moving towards them.

Dril darted sideways, sliding the point of his scimitar under the ribcage of one of the Reavers. He stabbed the dwarf’s exposed throat as he went down.

“There’s too many!” shouted Vlad. He was having difficulty as three Reavers closed in on him.

As the deadly woman and her Reaver henchmen prepared for another attack, they found themselves flanked by soldiers in white.

One of the soldiers, a young boy whose white aura resolved itself every so often into a simple steel breastplate, said, “It’s not safe here! Follow me. Stay close, and do not lose sight; this land is very dangerous to those who are lost.” He turned, and moved quickly away.

They followed him out into the mists.

[talien]

“Catch them, you fools!”

The forces arrayed against them quickly disappeared into the fog, despite their commander’s orders.

Soon enough, though, even her shouts faded. They found themselves staring at a remarkable sight.

“The Dreamheart,” said Vlad, “is a very weird place.”

A massive tree grew from some spot below them that was obscured by the fog. It was easily as wide as a small village, and its branches, laden with brightly colored leaves and flowers, were wide enough to walk on. Their guide led them along the branches until they were totally obscured by the leaves.

Abruptly, as though someone had lit a lamp, they were surrounded by shimmering gold, silver, and emerald swirls. They were in a military encampment; tents of bright colors were scattered about, and men clothed in flowing light walked around on patrol.

Their guide took them to the man they saw earlier and dropped to one knee.

“Inquisitor,” said the boy, the fog muffling his voice, “I have brought the new ones that we saved from Ophelia’s talons.”

“You have done well,” the Inquisitor said in clipped tones. Then he looked at Kham with bright gray eyes. “I am Medricas val’Assante, formerly an Inquisitor of the Mother Church, now commander of the forces of good inside this accursed sword. I suppose you were slain in battle? Tell me, who wields the blade now?”

Kham swallowed hard. “I do. Or I did. Maybe I still do. It’s complicated. My father performed a ritual that sent us here.”

“We’ve been sent here to stop the curse of Fleshripper,” said Vlad.

Medricas looks at Kham, his eyes narrowed. “Good.” He nodded. “Perhaps you might find a way to do what I cannot. I have been here a long time, my friends. I was only the third person to wield Divine Vengeance, which you call Fleshripper. The woman who attacked you is Ophelia val’Tensen; she was once a paladin of Illiir like myself, but the sword’s power long ago turned her to evil. She was the wielder of the blade before me.”

“How do we destroy the blade?” asked Ilmarė.

“If I knew that, I would have done it long ago,” said Medricas. “I doubt that it can be destroyed from within, but if you are being assisted from the outside, it may be possible. I do not know how, though. The Creator made the sword; he, if anyone, would probably know how it could be destroyed. Whether or not he would tell you is another matter entirely.”

“Where’s the Creator?” asked Dril.

“I can show you the path, but I must remain here,” said Medricas. “Ophelia will attack again soon, and we must defend our last stronghold. The Creator exists in the very heart of this mockery of reality. Here in the dream we cannot die, but near the Creator, the rules may be different. Or they may be the same. Or they may break altogether. Take nothing for granted.”

“We need to rest,” said Vlad. He was favoring one arm, which had been struck by a glancing blow from a Reaver’s axe.

Medricas chuckled. “You’re in a dream, my friends. What need have you of rest?”

They exchanged glances. “What?” asked Vlad.

“Will it,” added Medricas, “and you shall be restored.”

They all closed their eyes. After a moment, they opened them again. Nothing happened.

Except for Ilmarė. She glowed with a golden aura.

“How did you do that?” asked Dril.

Ilmarė pursed her lips. “Like this.” She closed her eyes again. A scratch on Dril’s face healed instantly. “I meditate every day. Your untrained minds are not accustomed to such focus.”

Kham rolled his eyes. “Can you do that for everyone?”

Ilmarė shrugged and closed her eyes again. They were all briefly engulfed by a golden light.

“Reminds me of Quintus’s healing magic,” said Vlad.

The elorii bit her lip but said nothing.

Medricas held out his hand. A translucent pitcher of water appeared in it. He poured the pitcher, and as he water splashed against the nothingness under their feet, it spilled out into a stream. The stream twisted back and forth, up and down, sometimes looping through the air as it wound away into the distance.

“That is your road," said Medricas. "Do not stray from it until you reach the halls of the Creator. If you become lost, I cannot spare men to find you. Good luck.”

“I have seen what happens to shattered soulstones,” said Beldin. “What will become of you if we destroy Fleshripper?

"I do not know,” said Medricas. “Hopefully, we will be freed to stand before the Judgment of Nier, as we should have done so long ago. If not, then we have been doomed since coming here, and even oblivion will be far better than this endless war. If no others will ever suffer under Fleshripper's bite, then our sacrifice will be worthwhile."

Then, suddenly, a familiar female voice rang out from all around you, “Medricas! This ends here and now! We will triumph, and fulfill our holy will!"

Medricas grimaced “Hurry, my friends,” he growled. “You may be our only hope.” He turned and receded into the fog. As did so, the whole room faded away, leaving only the glittering, shimmering path of water.