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

[talien]

The weather was frigid with a dusting of frost and ice on the road and an inch or two of snow on the earth. They passed through a couple of hamlets: Saul and Framilode. The tiny places consisted of just a dozen or so houses each. The buildings were old, ramshackle and low; they were built in stone and had thatched roofs and only a few small windows. There were no shops evident and perhaps no people.

“This reminds me of the last time the King in Yellow tried to take over Milandir,” said Kham.

There were more villages, but oddly after Framilode, there were no more signs announcing the names of the places.

“No road signs,” said Sebatian.

“No churches either,” added Beldin.

There were about ten buildings in Clotton; one in moss-covered stone was much larger than the rest. It could have been a church—indeed, there was what looked like the stump of a spire—but it was almost completely overgrown with ivy and hard to make out. There was no sign or name by the building, and the doorway itself was barricaded with a haphazard heap of rotten timber.

The village showed no sign of life: no people, no barking dogs, and no horses, sheep or cattle. There was no post office and no pub. The few cottages were ramshackle old stone affairs: some seemed to be held up by the foliage that covered them, and in one case a huge elm tree had been incorporated inside a building.

They walked south a further mile or so on the road, where they picked up a footpath. It led due east. The trek covered a bit more than three miles and took about an hour.

It was cold and dreary. The footpath rose steadily, affording a view of the forest ahead. The Tarda River was three or four miles behind them.

The countryside looked uncared for. Poor fences and hedges divided the fields. The few pieces of farm equipment they saw had been left to rust.

After another mile, there was the first evidence of life. A little way off a dozen scrawny sheep were gathered expectantly by an empty food trough, and beside them stood a farmhand staring off into space.

Sebastian pointed at the sheep. “That’s an interesting mark.” The underfed sheep were indelibly marked with a splash of black on their hindquarters to indicate ownership; the mark suggested the head of a bull or goat.

The farmhand didn’t see them right away. He was shabbily and inadequately dressed and carried a wooden bucket.

“Hello?” shouted Beldin, waving to the farmhand.

The man turned around; he was thin and ugly with big ears and protruding teeth. He set off at a fast walk toward a collection of buildings almost lost in a fold in the ground, intermittently shaking his head.

“What the hell is wrong with these villagers?” asked Kham.

“I think he’s walking towards that hamlet.”

They followed him until he went into one of the buildings and slammed the door.

The footpath went on for another mile. Isolated trees thickened as they approached Lower Clotton and Mercy Hill off to the north. The path cut through a band of forest. It was still among the trees, and there was a high, sweet smell brought by an intermittent breeze. The footpath crossed by a stream of stagnant water and then a patch of dense, black poppies, and the wood got thicker. It was lush with deep ferns, moss, and fungal growth.

“Man, I wish this headache would stop.” Kham massaged his temples.

“You feel it too?” Sebastian had one hand to his forehead.

“Yeah, it’s a distant thrumming…like a swarm of bees.”

Beldin shushed them. “We’re being watched.”

About fifty yards off in the trees, something peered at them through the trees. It moved further away: at first it looked human, stripped from the waist up, but something was wrong. The man’s legs were jointed the wrong way, like an animal’s.

The trees thinned out as they passed out of the wood. Walking down the hill, they saw the main body of the Forest of Dean. It sent out fingers to the three farms that were dotted in a line below them. The farm in the center looked in much better repair: there was glass in all the windows and the chimney belched smoke.

When they were still a few hundred yards off, the sound of barking was audible. Three big dogs ran outside. A woman came out behind them, perhaps thirty years old with short blonde hair, wearing overalls, boots, gloves, and a short coat; she looked nothing like the denizens of the countryside they’d seen so far. The dogs, bullmastiffs, ran over to her where at her word of command they became silent.

As they came closer, the sign by the gate was legible: “Nug’s Farm.”

[talien]

Nug’s Farm was a loss-making concern and amounted to little. There was a field or two of potatoes, cabbages, and turnips, and the kitchen garden out back had vegetables and fruits. There were also lots of chickens, which were in coops and runs in front of the house.

The woman took her gloves off and stuffed them into a pocket. She had fine blonde hair and an attractive face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her manner distracted. A farm worker was visible beside the house holding a shovel, watching.

“Hello,” began Sebastian. “Are you Hillary Carbo?”

“Who wants to know?” she asked, watching them closely. Her accent indicated an educated upbringing.

“I am Sebastian Arnyal. This is Kham val’Abebi and Beldin Soulforge. We are investigating a disturbance near here, possibly a planar rift—“

Kham cut him off. “We knew your husband.”

Hillary’s eyebrows shot up. “Come in and have some tea.”

As an afterthought, she turned to the farmhand. “That’s enough for today, Will.”

Will didn’t reply, but simply shuffled off in the direction of Lower Clotton, seemingly uninterested in the new arrivals.

The farmhouse was a very old two-story limestone building with a newer-single story extension built onto a back corner. The windows were small and shuttered, the ceilings and doorways were low, and the house was always dim. In the living room, a desk was piled high with correspondence.

“You should know that I am separated from my husband and that we are no longer on speaking terms. By your appearance here I will assume some of the things he wrote about in his rambling letters have come to fruition. How do you know him?”

“We…” Kham fumbled. What was he supposed to say, that they had tried to kill him? “We met him in Vestalanium.”

Sebastian jumped in. “He seems to have penned a play that is of great interest to us: The King in Yellow.”

Hillary nodded. “Livius was obsessed with it. He thought The King in Yellow was an avatar of the Unspeakable One.”

They all leaned forward. “When Livius moved to Freeport he met with someone who Atkinson had heard of as a scholar in the field.”

Kham took a sip of his tea. “Elijah Quelch.”

“Yes. On the Eve of the New Year 1024 Livius claimed they called the King in Yellow to Onara so that they could learn from it. But he broke with the others after that. He believes that there are links between the Unspeakable One and Tizzhet. It is talked of in more than one text of a union between the two, though the texts conflict over whether this will happen in the future or has already happened. The first source says that the Dark Young came from this sire, but I think this text suspect. The most authoritative source says that there will be a union after humanity is forgotten and that two offspring will result—one is Yeb and the other is Nug, and that Yeb and Nug will in turn produce two more entities: Leviathan and Tsathoggua.”

Kham laughed involuntarily. “Tizzhet? Leviathan? The gang’s all here!” The others looked at him in dismay. “Sorry, sorry.” Kham tried to regain his composure by slurping more of his tea.

“You know of them?” asked Beldin.

“Tizzhet? Oh yeah, one of her spawn tried to eat Quintus and I awhile back. And Leviathan’s been a pain in the ass in Freeport forever.”

“Livius said he joined a circle called The Pilgrimage of Grace,” said Hillary. “They were leaving Grand Coryan as soon as Numen or early in the New Year, although he said it could be as late as Libidine.”

Beldin took a deep breath. “He means to summon the Unspeakable One again.”

“Did he give a name?” asked Kham. “An address? Some way we can find him?”

“Livius did leave a name: Thomas Villiers at the shipping office of Giuseppe Colombo in the Sweet Savona. That’s all he—“

The dogs sudden barking cut her off.

[talien]

The dogs barked once or twice and moved to the door, looking at Hillary. She opened it and followed them out.

A man approached a few hundred yards off. On the hill behind him were six other goat-like hybrids, but they stood still. The goat-men had hoof-like feet, thick hair over their lower limbs, reversed joins, and elongated skulls with recessant horns. All of them had tufted bears and brows.

“Son of a…it’s Gresty!” Kham followed Hillary out.

Gresty was amazed to see him. “Hello, Kham,” he said in a stilted fashion. Gresty looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just wandering around.” Kham shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets. “I escaped the Hulks, jumped through a portal, ended up in Canceri, got arrested again, escaped again…you know, the usual.”

If Gresty seemed unsure as to what Kham was talking about, he hid it well. Gresty turned to greet Hillary warmly. “Hello, Hillary. It’s good to see you. Atkinson has told me that bad blood exists. But it should not concern you and I: we can inherit Atkinson’s power together.”

Inside, Sebastian read from one of the papers Hillary left unattended:

“The Dark Young, her Thousand Children, they are scattered across the stars of the sky, and Tizzhet watches them all, cares for them. And she screams with motherly delight as they suckle on her black, swollen paps, chew on her distended belly, gorge themselves sow-fat, pig-fat upon her flesh.”

Hillary walked forward and put her face right up to his. “I curse you all, Gresty.” Then, she whispered almost coquettishly in Gresty’s ear.

Sebastian continued to read:

“At Nug’s will she dwell; on the doorstep. She will dwell there on the Goddess’ doorstep with her young. And when ripe bring them to the Moon Lens for they belong to the Great One, the Goat with A Thousand Young. And her own Children will guard them. Her own Children will bring her safe to her when the Goat’s dominion takes her in. When the Goat’s forest marches. When the Goat’s forest marches and the moon is growing full and heavy. Then the Moon Lens will shine on the hill. The hill will open. And he, her servant, will come.”

Gresty looked alarmed. He scowled. He turned without a word and stalked back the way he came up towards the other men.

Sebastian picked up a letter and read it.

“And Atkinson was true to his promise. He has told me of certain things when I was ready to hear them. Secrets surpassing sanity. Commending me to an absolute cure, he has immured another soul within the black and boundless walls of that eternal asylum where stars dance maniacally like bright puppets in the silent, staring void. And I will be truly blessed.”

As Gresty left, he turned once and yelled, “Whyever they’re here, they’re too late. The handover is brought forward: it happens tonight. You’d better be gone from here, woman. All of you better be gone. Nug’s Farm will be no more!”

“Our brethren may walk of the Father who measurement is eight and twenty, and four hundred. Some have special fear for the one behind the wall. But all must bow before She who is the Black Goat of the Woods, numbered three and seven hundred, the Queen, the Mother, with her Thousand Dark Young. All must bow down as our fathers did, and their fathers did. As our sons will do, as their sons will do.”

Hillary turned and stormed inside the house—the dogs followed, made nervous by her mood. Sebastian quickly shoved the book, titled “The Revelations of Glaaki,” back into the pile of correspondence on Hillary’s desk.

A few seconds later, Hillary left the house again with an armful of papers. She carried them to a large brazier that smoldered near the door and stuffed them in. They caught fire.

“Help me, damn it!” she shouted. “When Gresty and Atkinson come back, there must be nothing for them to take!”

Sebastian came outside. “This isn’t the way. Please, let us help you.”

Hillary held herself for a long moment. She seemed to be mulling something over.

“Come inside,” she said. “And I will tell you the whole story.”

[talien]

“I married Livius Carbo years ago,” said Hillary. “We shortly moved to this farm and had a daughter. It was the same year Livius left me. I have lived here ever since. When Livius left, Atkinson came to the farm. He told me that I was special, that this place had been waiting for me, and that he would train me and make me his priestess. Despite my revulsion, I was drawn to his power and secrets. With the knowledge he passed on, my own love of this ancient countryside grew; I could not bear to be apart from my farm, the bleak wood—they are beautiful, and they speak to me.”

Beldin nodded. “I can understand the appeal. It’s much the same way dwarves are drawn to the Heartstone gems of their enclaves.”

“For four years, that’s how it went. I learned fast and grew in stature in the cult. Though I would not submit to Atkinson’s advances, the two of us and Sarah made a family. But Atkinson presumed too much. One day, I came upon him teaching my four-year-old daughter about Tizzhet. Later, I saw her moved her hand in a clumsy approximation of the Yellow Sign. I said nothing then, but I knew I had to stop him. I could never forget how Livius had abandoned us—I was determined not do the same to my daughter.”

Sebastian looked at Kham, but the val refused to return his gaze. They both knew what it was like to lose a father.

“I smuggled Sarah away. When Atkinson raged and demanded her return, I stood up to him. The old man couldn’t face me. Humiliated, he crept back to Lower Clotton—the power had already moved on, even before his death. I knew I didn’t need to risk a fight in front of all, for Atkinson is old.”

“Making you the high priestess of the Tizzhet cult,” said Sebastian.

Hillary nodded. “Now that the cult is almost mine, I have half a mind to destroy it. I’ve had almost no contact with Atkinson for more than a year. What little there was happened through Atkinson’s emissaries begging for me to reconsider and reconcile. The cult themselves are too scared to question the old man openly.”

“I met Gresty in Freeport,” said Kham. “He led me to Michael Coombs as well as Elijah Quelch. I think there was some falling out between the two cults. Gresty talked a lot about taking over some sort of power.”

“As Atkinson’s position weakens, I suspect he now wants Wilfred Gresty as his successor,” said Hillary. “By his appearance today, I was right. I know that the Unspeakable One is close to Onara—some of the cult feel that he will arrive here in Goatswood to copulate with Tizzhet—and that Livius is probably right in all he says.”

A clock bonged three times.

“I recommend you leave now. If you choose to stay, you must agree to do what I say. If you listen to me, you should be safe…but if not, it could be that none of us will survive.” She raised her voice a bit, obviously tense and scared. The dogs growled. “Your help may be hard, but it will be necessary. Atkinson and Gresty will come around midnight.”

“We’re staying,” said Kham. “I haven’t crashed a wedding in awhile.”

[talien]

Hillary did nothing to prepare. There was only one minor incident in the afternoon.

Hillary’s farm worker, Will, and five other local men approached the house. They carried various implements: a sickle, hoes, and pitchforks. Hillary seemed a little surprised but unconcerned. She walked forward alone to greet them.

“I don’t need your help,” she said. “No. I have help.”

There were murmurs in reply.

“Yes, I know where you stand and so will Atkinson if you stay here. And Gresty.”

More murmurs.

“No. I can’t take it. Go on. Go on, Will, take them away. Go on. All of you, go on.”

They shambled off. She stood where she was for another minute, looking away from the house and watching the men’s backs. When she turned, it looked as if she’d been crying.

When she came back inside, Hillary made a simple supper: bread, cheese, and fruit. Time passed

Finally, the dogs gave warning again. It was midnight.

From the cottage window, you a bonfire was visible in the woods. Figures danced and jumped in front of it. Voices were raised in song. One of the goat-men committed suicide by jumping directly into the bonfire.

There was a pause.

Hillary looked up, her face was set. “It’s time to go outside.”

[talien]

Hillary shut the dogs in, though they were frantic to go with her. They went outside to face Gresty and Atkinson.

Atkinson was an emaciated old man, with gray, heavily wrinkled skin, a scruffy white beard on his chin, and a toothless mouth. Gresty looked much as he had when Kham last saw him; thin, with a small belly that jutted out around his trousers. He had a wild head of gray-brown coarse hair, a scrubby beard and mustache, and very protuberant ears.

Hillary whispered something inaudible. She pointed at the collected goat-men and their cultist masters.

The area surrounding the goat-men was shot through with sheets of roaring flame. The goat-men reeled, screaming and running in different directions as their fur caught on fire. Gresty and Atkinson seemed to find it amusing.

“Why are they laughing?” asked Kham.

Beldin stood his ground in front of them. “Let them come.”

Gresty pointed at Hillary. She clutched her throat, unable to speak.

“That’s it.” Sebastian raised his hands. “I’m putting an end to this—“

“No, wait!” shouted Kham. But it was too late.

“Incendiaries globus!”

A ball of fire engulfed the goat-men, Gresty, and Atkinson. The flames left blackened husks. Only Atkinson still stood. Surrounded by blackened earth, he looked like a lord of hell.

And Atkinson kept laughing.

“Why is he laughing?” asked Beldin.

“I was trying to tell you before they silenced me,” said Hillary. “Those are the Blessed. They are holy to Tizzhet. And Atkinson sacrificed one in a bonfire. I didn’t realize it until I burned them. That’s why Atkinson sent them ahead! He WANTED us to sacrifice them.” She cursed.

In a flash, Kham had his pistols out. He fired at Atkinson, but the old man merely held up a hand. The bullet bounced off of his open palm.

“Why would he want to sacrifice his own people?” asked Beldin.

Kham fired again. Atkinson deflected the shot.

“To summon something more powerful,” Sebastian said morosely.

The ground shook and there was a horrible stench—like rancid meat.

“Oh, no,” said Hillary. She pointed in the direction of the noise. Against the black of the night something even blacker was visible.

“What the hell is that?” asked Kham.

It was as big as a house. A massive, twined shifted body on squat legs. High above the thing there was movement, like trees that were not there a moment before. The upper half whipped frantically, as though in great pain. Somewhere in the body below, a mouth smacked open and spewed out a stream of filthy green ichor.

“One of Tizzhet’s Dark Young!”

The thing roared from multiple mouths and, on three stumpy legs, barreled forward. The tentacles reached down from the darkness, whip-cracking as they moved. Beldin dove to the side as it nearly trampled him.

“Get back!” the dwarf shouted. Before he could rise to his feet, a tentacle snapped out and wrapped around Beldin’s leg. It yanked him into the air.

Sebastian pointed at the Dark Young. “Radius Incensio!”

Spiraling gouts of fire blasted into the Dark Young, dissipating harmlessly.

The Dark Young’s tentacle dipped Beldin into one of its many mouths, slurping on him with its vile lips. The dwarf screamed and writhed in horror.

“Kham!” shouted Hillary.

Kham concentrated. A moment later, Beldin was slumped, unconscious, where Kham had been. His body was covered with dozens of sucker-like sores.

Kham slipped out of the tentacles of the Dark Young and rolled to his feet. The thing bellowed in frustration.

Sebastian lifted his arms. “Mulimodis Oris!”

Three ghostly pairs of vicious jaws flew out from the folds of his robes. The jaws snapped and bit at the Dark Young’s tentacles.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this thing busy!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Quickly,” Hillary shouted to Kham, “grab four chickens from the coops and hold them upside down by the legs in front of you.”

Kham ran over to the coops and dragged four cages over. Hillary produced a long knife in front of her.

“Hold it up!”

Kham grabbed a struggling chicken out of its cage.

“Ishniggarah!” Hillary slashed precisely at one bird, wounding it fatally. “Say it” she shouted. “Help me! Say it!”

“Ishniggarah,” said Kham. “Are we performing some kind of ritual?”

The Dark Young roared and took a few steps forward. Sebastian pointed an extended finger: “Incendiaries globus!”

A pea-sized ball of fire transformed into a conflagration, engulfing the Dark Young. Kham procured another bird.

“The Black Mouth!” The knife slit a second bird. Both chickens were still alive. A deep, regular noise was now audible, getting louder. “Repeat it!” said Hillary.

“The Black Mouth!” shouted Kham.

The Dark Young stepped out of the fires, completely unharmed. Tentacles shot towards Sebastian. He rolled to the side and came up again. Kham took out a third chicken.

“The Black Tongue!” Hillary struck the third chicken with a ritual flourish. Blood from all three chickens splashed out over Kham’s hands and arms; they were still alive and flailing.

“The Black Tongue!” shouted Kham.

The ground trembled. Sebastian pointed at the abomination. “Magicus telum!”

Dark blue bolts of energy thudded into the thing, and still it kept coming. Kham brought out the final chicken.

“The Black Lip!” The fourth bird was slashed. The chickens struggled weakly.

“The Black Lip!” recited Kham.

A tentacle shot out and grabbed Sebastian by both arms. The Dark Young yanked him forward, dragging him along the ground towards it. Sebastian screamed.

Kham hesitated, torn between completing the ritual and helping his friend.

“Keep those birds there!” shouted Hillary. ”Stand still!”

It was unclear whether the last command was targeted at Kham or at the Dark Young, for she had whirled to face it. The terrified chickens still in their coops added to the cacophony of the dying ones. The dogs howled madly from the house.

Hillary stood tall, reaching towards the thing. She issued a challenge.

“Ishnigarrah! Utug Xul!”

Hillary immediately whirled back to the chickens and killed them: one, two, three, four, with sweeping forehand and backhand slashes. She turned again to face the Dark Young and took two steps toward it.

“You will kill the one who summoned you,” she spoke quietly, coldly, pointing at Atkinson. “Then you will go back to your Mother to draw on her teat.” She spat.

The thing turned with a great stamping, and headed back off towards Atkinson. Its noise diminished but then was counterpointed by Atkinson’s distant screams of fear and pain.

Hillary didn’t stop to listen, covered in blood and completely transported; even the dogs slunk away as she reentered the house.

[talien]

In the morning, Hillary was quiet but thankful.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened last night,” she said. “Let’s just say it was the child of the mother. You must leave now.”

“We will,” said Sebastian. Like Beldin, he had terrible bruises where the tentacles had touched him. Still, Hillary’s magic was considerable, and they had recovered quickly. “We’re heading to Coryan next.”

“It seems you have a hard task ahead of you,” said Hillary quietly. “If you find Livius, please let him know that Sarah will grow up to love her father.”

On the walk to the road, the countryside was as quiet as before. They reached Clotton without being challenged.

On the street, a small goat-faced boy, five or six years old, was playing with a red ball.

The ball rolled over to Sebastian. He kneeled down to hand it back.

The boy came over to Sebastian without any fear. As he took it back, a barking shout from one of the decrepit houses had him running inside.

[talien]

This is a Dungeon adventure, “And Madness Followed” by Matthew Hope, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster

I couldn’t believe that someone beat me to the punch: I was going to submit my own King in Yellow-themed adventure to Dungeon magazine. When I found out that Matthew Hope had written one already, I had to have it.

I was not disappointed. Similar to Herald of the Yellow King, this adventure follows performers in three acts, with a climactic battle at the end. Even better, this adventure provides official rules on the Yellow Sign, the Pallid Mask, and what happens when you witness a performance of The King in Yellow. It also explicitly ties the Far Realm to Carcosa, something I was doing already.

That said, there were still some tweaks I needed to make. The identity of two performers was changed to further involve the characters in the plot and wrap up some loose ends. The wystes (from Monster Manual II, which I don’t have) were replaced with pseudonatural chuuls; you may remember them as the “immature form of the Spawn of Hastur” from Herald of the Yellow King. I changed the “Carcosan bats” that one of the performers summons to what they’re really supposed to be: byakhee. And the big bad monster at the end…well, you’ll have to read to find out.

[talien]

The village of Hallowfeld was cradled in a rustic stretch of farmland, where the rolling hills and tall grasses occasionally gave way to a small hamlet or village.

“You know, we could get there a lot faster if you didn’t have such a problem with horses,” Kham grumbled.

“It’s the other way around,” Sebastian said morosely. “They have a problem with me.”

“Whatever. My feet hurt.”

As they entered town, none of the usual sounds associated with a village greeted them. All that remained were a few buildings around what used to be the community center. Many buildings were burnt partially or completely, and terrific bloodstains marred the streets and remaining facades.

Beldin took out his axe and shield. “This looks familiar.”

Kham drew his pistols. “No, THAT looks familiar.” He pointed with one pistol.

A strange and unsettling mark was on one wall of the town’s general store. It was made in yellow paint and depicted a strange rune of three hooked arms around a circle.

“The Yellow Sign,” said Sebastian. “Damn it, it’s spreading again!”

“Shh!” said Beldin. “Did you hear that?”

They all strained to listen. There were strange noises coming from the buildings—sounds of feet dragging across floorboards, a curious heavy breathing laced with a strange hissing, and an unnerving sloshing and slurping.

“Ah, crap,” was all Kham got out before things burst from every door and window surrounding them.

The villagers had been transformed into near-mindless mockeries of their former selves. Their skin was a pale white, with a yellowish tint that seemed almost luminescent. Their flesh was rubbery and soft, and their forms lacked any rigidity or apparent skeletal structure. In place of heads were nests of writhing pseudopods and delicate pale feelers. They were all armed with pitchforks.

Kham turned and fired both pistols. Two of the things collapsed.

“Radius Incensio!” Sebastian pointed at two of the things. Two streams of flame blasted into the villagers, turning melting them into yellow puddles.

Beldin hacked one of the villagers down before it could react, then spun in a vicious arc that disemboweled the other.

The things never had a chance.

“Nice shooting,” said Kham.

Sebastian’s fingers trailed smoke. He blew on them. “Nice shooting yourself.”

“Look there.” Beldin pointed at a large manor house that overlooked the village. It was untouched by whatever had ravaged the village.

“Great.” Kham sighed and reloaded his pistols. “Well, I did say I wanted a place to rest.”

He holstered his pistols and strode towards the manor.

[talien]

Kham let Skiz out of his satchel and together they explored the place, room by room. Sebastian and Beldin stood at the doorway, watchful for any signs of intruders and listening for Kham’s usual cry for help: gunshots.

“Anything?”

Kham looked up from rifling through a collection of notes. Written in a cramped, spidery script, it mentioned the “true nature of reality.” The pages mentioned the author’s belief that reality was an illusion and his desire to strip the illusion away from the world so that he too could experience the truth of life.

Skiz, Kham’s talking rat, stood up on his hind legs in the doorway. “Well, boss, I found something written by a girl.”

Kham arched an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

Skizz sniffed the air for a second. “Well, it doesn’t smell like the owner of this place. He smells like old, wet paper.”

“Show me.”

The rat bounded off with Kham close behind. They went up a winding staircase to one of the four bedrooms. It was the master bedroom, and judging by its decor it was used by a woman.

Skiz bounded up onto a chair and then onto a desk. He plopped one pink paw on a stack of parchment.

Kham picked it up and flipped through the pages. “This looks like a long list. And there are check marks next to four-dozen of them. There’s also a note on the bottom: likely not enough people—Lamid, perhaps?”

“A list, boss? For what?”

Kham’s expression darkened. “I know exactly what it’s for. Whoever wrote this is looking to summon the King in Yellow by showing it to a large crowd.”

Skiz froze. He cocked his head.

“What?”

“I think I heard something in the attic, boss.” He sniffed the air. “It’s a girl.”

“How do you know…never mind, I don’t want to know.”

He peered into the bedroom’s closet. A ladder led up to a trapdoor.

Kham drew his pistols. “Stay down here.” Then he slowly climbed up the creaking ladder.

[talien]

Kham crept his way into the attic. A woman was on the other side, scrambling backwards as fast she could.

“Hey, easy, easy. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The woman’s clothes were torn and spattered with dirt and blood. Long dark hair hung limply across her dirty face.

“The monsters came!” she shrieked. “They changed my friends!”

“Calm down.” Kham put one hand out, palm down, in a gesture of peace. “Those things won’t bother you any more. Here, this might help.”

He tossed her a wineskin. After staring at him with wide eyes, she slurped thirstily from its contents. When she finally wiped her mouth, she had calmed down.

“Somebody up there, boss?” shouted Skiz.

“Uh, yeah. Why don’t you stay downstairs for the moment while I talk to this very edgy woman who doesn’t need to be further frightened by anything out of the ordinary.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

Kham turned back to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Maegen,” she said in a quiet voice. “Maegen Brimworth.”

Kham crouched down on his heels. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

“Silas took up three guests over the last few months. They were going to aid him in putting on a new play—“

”Did you say Silas? Silas Fedders?”

“You know him?”

Kham frowned. “Unfortunately, yes.” He recounted the events when they had last met. “Damn it! That means Silas was really behind…” he stopped speaking when he saw Maegen was watching him intensely. “Sorry, go on.”

“The premiere performance was to take place here in Hallowfeld, but I arrived late. Thank Illiir!”

“Let’s get you out of this place, hmm? Do you have relatives anywhere nearby?”

“Lamid,” she said hesitantly.

“Great,” said Kham. “Well, uh…” he reconsidered. “We’ll escort you there. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you when you arrive.”

The girl nodded as Kham ushered her down the steps.

[talien]

Sebastian and Beldin were waiting for Kham when he came back out of the manor with Maegen.

“Typical.” Sebastian’s hands were on his hips. “You walk into a place looking for a bed and you walk out with a woman.”

Kham shrugged. “That’s usually your line. This is Maegen. Maegen, this is Sebastian and Beldin.”

The woman responded by shrieking at the top of her lungs.

“That’s not quite the greeting I expected,” muttered Beldin.

They followed her terrified gaze to two lobster-like things crawling their way around the buildings. Upon hearing her scream, the creatures turned to face them.

“I’ve seen these things before.” Kham took aim at one of them. “Unfortunately, we’re not standing over a frozen river this time.”

The light reflected off the creatures’ mottled carapaces. Their small dark eyes fixed on them with a hungry stare; the tentacles that dripped from their mouths squirmed excitedly as they scuttled closer.

Maegen shrieked and ran in the other direction. Sebastian moved to stop her.

“Let her go,” said Beldin. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

Kham took aim. A pistol kicked, but the bullet ricocheted off the thing’s mottled carapace.

“Well, that’s all I got.”

Sebastian stepped backward as Beldin charged forward. “I think I can do better,” said the dark-kin. “Mulimodis Oris!”

Three ghostly pairs of vicious jaws flew out from the folds of his robes. The jaws snapped and bit at the first crustacean, stopping it in its tracks.

Beldin leaped into the air towards the second thing with his axe high overhead. He came down on one of the thing’s claws, cracking it open. Black ichor spurted upwards.

Kham fired another of his pistols. “Skiz, reload.”

He reached into his satchel and drew forth another pair of pistols, dropping the spent ones into the magical container along with his pet talking rat.

“What’s with the teeth and the tentacles?” asked Kham nervously. “You’re not going all Carcosa on me, are you?”

Sebastian was concentrating on keeping the first thing at bay, mentally directing the first two pairs of ghostly jaws to keep the beast busy; whenever he found an opening, the third pair struck and bit into the armored beast.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a new perspective,” said Sebastian.

A huge claw snapped at Beldin, but he batted it away with his shield.

Kham fired twice, this time aiming for the tentacles. He blasted one right off, and this time the crustacean under Sebastian’s magical attack reacted with a squeal.

“Be careful of the tentacles, Beldin, they cause—“

Beldin hacked away one claw and beat aside the other with his shield, giving a clear view of the creature’s maw. Then a net of dripping tentacles exploded onto him, encircling his arms and legs and lifting him up. Beldin went rigid.

“Paralysis,” finished Kham. He holstered his pistols and drew his scimitar and dagger.

“What are you doing?” asked Sebastian out of the corner of his mouth.

“Saving the dwarf. Stay here.”

Kham focused. His eyes burned like points of silver fire. And suddenly it was he in the tentacles and Beldin slumped next to Sebastian.

“Hi,” said Kham. His ring prevented the tentacles from grabbing him, causing him to slip to the ground. With a quick spin, Kham snapped his blades in a downwards arc, hacking through the tentacles. The crustacean screeched in pain.

It reached forward with both pincers to grab Kham, but the val was as slippery as an eel. He hopped backwards as it snapped at him in frustration…

Only to be struck by the other crustacean from behind. Although they couldn’t grab him, they could certainly hurt him. The shadow of the thing loomed over him and all he could see were pink tentacles.

“Radius Incensio!”

Flames struck the crustacean full in the face. It fell backwards, the ruins of its head still smoldering.

Kham scrambled to his feet. “Well, I’m glad that’s—“

The second one lurched forward, claws snapping for Kham’s face. It collapsed before Kham, Beldin’s axe protruding from the back of its hunched head.

Beldin licked his lips. “Anyone else hungry for lobster?”

Sebastian and Kham shuddered.

[talien]

The journey from Hallowfeld to Lamid was short and uneventful, just over a day’s travel on foot. By the time they arrived, the town was in total chaos.

Most of the town’s inhabitants remained huddled in their homes and no businesses were open. A large crowd of conscripted townsfolk gathered outside the barricade erected in the center of town.

“The villages said Constable Radcliff was the man in charge,” said Sebastian. “Hopefully, he can tell us more about what happened here.

As they worked their way through town, empty shops and closed shutters were everywhere. Kham reached down to pick up a piece of litter tumbling along the street.

“I already know what happened here.” He showed Sebastian the paper. It read:

Premiere Engagement!

ONE NIGHT ONLY AT THE LAMID AMPHITHEATER

ANULEE GALEN
AND THE KING’S PLAYERS PRESENT

THE KING IN YELLOW

Performance Begins at Dusk

“Oh no,” said Beldin. “Not Anulee.”

The sounds of screams and cries brought them to the edge of the town square, where one man was clearly in charge.

Constable Colbert Radcliff was a middle-aged man that stood just under six feet tall with short, light-brown hair. He was surrounded by dozens of frightened conscripts, men and women standing guard at a barricade of wagons, creates, rubble, and lumber that blocked the street into the town commons. From beyond the barricade came the sound of strange gibbering cries.

“The King came for us all and he granted us the wisdom of Carcosa!” someone shouted.

“We’ve been sent on behalf of the Coryan military.” Sebastian was becoming quite adept at telling white lies. “What happened here?”

The Constable kept one eye on the barricade. “Last night, a special performance of Anulee Galen’s new play turned to madness. No one knows exactly what happened, although about an hour after dark there was a tremendous flash of nauseating yellow light and the strange sound of rushing water. Almost immediately thereafter, the screams began.”

“Was Silas Fedders with them?” asked Kham.

“I’m not sure. By the time I arrived with the militia, those unfortunate enough to be caught in the town commons were either dead or had joined the mob. We erected barricades, but the militia took heavy losses.”

“The Harbinger brought us gifts from the King in Yellow!” someone shouted.

“Will you SHUT UP!” Kham shouted back.

“I think that’s the mayor,” said Radcliff. “That’s his voice.”

“The mayor of Crazytown,” said Kham. They crossed the barricade.

[talien]

Once they entered the town commons, things took a turn for the worse. Within, buildings were vandalized, signs and doors torn down, lanterns smashed on the cobblestones, and litter strewn throughout. Worst was the bodies. Dozens lay dead in various states of wholeness. Body parts lay in gutters or hung from broken windows. Corpses festered in tangled heaps, in many cases bearing signs of cannibalism.

Beldin peered into a ruined building. The dark shadow of a tentacled thing was hunched over something red and wet.

The amphitheater itself was in ruins. Seats were torn apart and bodies lay strewn everywhere. The central stage was recessed into the ground and it was filled with brackish, bloody water in which more corpses floated. Here and there, the Yellow Sign glared from buildings and walls, applied with yellow paint in some cases, blood in others, and still others crudely carved into wooden walls by knives or fingernails.

Down in the amphitheater, standing in fouled water up to his knees, was the mayor. He ranted and raved, pacing violently around the flooded center of the amphitheater, waving his arms and frothing at the mouth.

“He chose some, they are his children now!” he shouted.

“Get ready.” Kham had his pistols out.

As they stepped into the town square, a mob of screeching and wailing monstrosities surged out of the alleyways and shop fronts on the opposite side of the town square.

“Incendiaries globus!”

The mob was struck by a massive inferno, tossing transformed villagers in all directions. The crowd was temporarily parted. A lone figure was visible on the other side of the crowd, almost as if it were directing their motions. It was short and stocky, its dwarven heritage mocked by the atrocious tentacles that writhed from its torso and mouth. One rubbery hand gripped a wicked axe, its edge caked with gore.

“No!” shouted Beldin. “Not a dwarf!”

“Beldin, wait!” shouted Sebastian. But it was too late. Beldin charged forward and the crowd surged behind him, cutting him off.

Beldin blocked the former dwarf’s axe as it struck viciously at his face. Tentacles whipped from its mouth, snaking around Beldin.

“You were a dwarf once,” said Beldin. There was gunfire and explosion behind them as Kham and Sebastian kept the villagers busy. “Do not let the King in Yellow’s madness take you, my brother.”

The thing’s tentacles twitched. It hesitated. A tentacle snapped its soulstone from around the thing’s throat and tossed it at the feet of Beldin.

“Hheeeelllp mmeeeeee,” it rasped.

Beldin knew what to do. “Be at peace, my brother.”

He brought his axe down, shattering the soulstone into a thousand pieces.

When Kham and Sebastian finally cleared the remaining transformed villagers, Beldin was still there, mourning the loss of a Celestial Giant.

“Beldin, we have to go,” said Sebastian.

Beldin didn’t move.

“The Constable asked around,” said Kham. “The King’s Players left town last night with their gear and props. And they were headed for Sweet Savona.”

[talien]

Sweet Savona was just twenty miles away from Lamid. Savona was built upon two hundred and eighteen individual islands, interconnected by a spider web of walkways and bridges. Its most prominent feature was the many stepped ziggurat temple of Larissa. Easily the tallest structure in Savona, the temple was normally vibrant and bustling with many worshipers.

Numerous flyers were posted on lampposts, tavern doors, and fences throughout Savona, announcing the premiere of a new play by Anulee.

Kham snatched one off a door. “They’re at the Legion Playhouse. I know where that is.”

The Legion Playhouse was a large wood and stone building located in Savona’s center. Its tall, gothic roof loomed over dark alleys to either side, its façade giving it the feel of a place of worship rather than a theater.

“There’s a door around back.” Kham led them around the side of the building to a smaller door at the end of a narrow alleyway.

“How do you know that?” asked Sebastian suspiciously.

Kham twisted the hilt of one of his many knives. Lock picks sprung out. “Are you going to ask questions or you going to help me stop the play?” Kham fiddled with the lock for a full minute. “Sarish’s ass!” he finaly muttered in frustration.

There was a quiet bonging noise. Sebastian rang a small gong and the door unlocked.

“Nice trick,” said Kham. “Don’t start horning in on my turf or I might just start casting spells.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Beldin pushed the door open into an empty dressing room. A black curtain hung before them. Beldin hacked it aside with his axe.

The stage had been decorated to resemble a great throne room. At center was a looming throne of sickening yellow-green stone gilt with gold runes, some of which writhed and twitched. A colonnade of pillars rose behind the throne, beyond which was an amazingly realistic backdrop that looked out over an alien city of spires and domes. The dark waters of a lake dominated the horizon, and strange moons glowed in the skies above.

On stage, four figures were visible. Their voices echoed throughout the hall, reverberating off the walls in a strangely hypnotic cadence. On the throne was seated the titular king in the play, a figured dressed in tattered yellow robes that concealed the actor’s face and body completely. He watched quietly as he gaze upon a figure seated before him, perhaps a prisoner.

“Silas,” whispered Kham. “That’s got to be him.”

The actor was an attractive young woman. She wore pigtails and a form-fitting suit of chainmail; in one hand was a long whip made of what looked like a braided length of blonde hair that ended in a cruel razor-edged hook. To either side of the throne stood the remaining two actors. One was a lean, muscled Altherian with an expression of contempt on his chiseled features. He wore a chain shirt and held a scimitar before him.

The fourth figure wore a yellow-green robe and revealing clothes. In her hands she wielded a long, gnarled quarterstaff. Her face was hidden behind a pallid mask. Although she wore a mask, her voice was clear, and the lips on the mask moved to match her words.

“Anulee,” Sebastian said with a hint of pity in his voice.

She turned to face them. They clearly didn’t belong on the stage.

“Strange is the night where black stars rise,
and strange moons circle through the skies,
but stranger still is Lost Carcosa!”

“Your mind tricks won’t work on me,” Sebastian said, raising his hands, “but I can put a stop—Beldin, what are you doing?”

Beldin was walking mechanically off stage to join the audience. They sat, rapt, a full house of silence, as all eyes remained fixated on the performance.

“Beldin snap out of it!” shouted Kham. He pointed his pistols at the performers. “I’ve seen this play before. The ending sucks.”

Several things happened at once. Anulee took a step backwards. The woman cracked her whip, whipping it over her head. The Altherian drank a potion. And the King in Yellow cast a spell, but it was an all too human voice that said “bardus!”

Kham and Sebastian felt a tingling in their limbs, but it passed just as quickly.

“Beldin!” shouted Kham. “Get up!” He fired one pistol and the woman with the whip fell backwards. He fired another and a red stain appeared in the King in Yellow’s robes.

“Incendiaries globus!” responded Sebastian.

The entire stage burst into flames. The audience finally snapped out of it, screaming and running for the exits. The actor dressed in the King in Yellow flailed about, consumed by his own flammable clothing.

Two byakhee popped into existence above them. One reared its head back to ravage Sebastian, but a blow from Beldin’s axe stopped it in mid-bite. The thing screeched and whipped its head around to face Beldin.

“Enjoy the view?” asked Kham.

He drew his scimitar and dagger to face the second byakhee. He blocked one of its attacks by slashing upwards with Talon, severing two of its claws.

Sebastian pointed at Anulee. “I’m sorry, Anulee,” he whispered.

The pallid mask turned to face him, expressionless.

“Radius Incensio!”

The flames blasted into her, knocking Anulee to the ground.

The shrieks of wounded byakhee behind Sebastian convinced him he didn’t have to worry about them. He walked over to her corpse.

Anulee’s face was hidden behind a feminine porcelain mask, the brow of which bore the all-too-familiar Yellow Sign.

“I doomed you to something far worse than death,” whispered Sebastian. He reached for the mask to remove it. A slow spider web of cracks appeared around the mouth, a jester’s grin.

Sebastian recoiled as beams of yellow light appeared in the cracks. Then the whole mask and what remained of Anulee’s head became a beacon of nauseating yellow light. A malignant portal tore through the stage area, momentarily obscuring the stage with a vision of a vast lake. At the far side of the lake rose the strange, alien towers of Carcosa, and beyond that spanned a gulf of alien stars and unknown moons and suns.

An instant later, the waters of the Lake of Hali rushed into the playhouse. And from the depths of the lake, something arose that Kham had seen before.