Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Evening was beginning to fall over the city. They were hunted, and the streets were dangerous to traverse openly.
“Well, that’s more blood on our hands,” said Sebastian. He shook his head, deeply concerned. “We have no allies now; not the cultists, and certainly not the Nierites.”
Kham put one finger to his lips. They pulled up short. He lifted a cocked pistol and pointed around the corner.
Kham counted with his fingers. One. Two. Three!
Kham spun quickly around the corner. A wounded cultist leaned against the wall.
“Don’t move.” Kham pointed a pistol at the cultist’s head. “Jessica’s feeling punchy today. Don’t give her a reason.”
Mercy! Mercy!” he whispered. “I beg you, spare my life. You have touched the Eye. I know it. Sarish’s eye has fallen upon you, and your destiny is forever altered. The Lord of Secrets knows you now.”
“Yeah, everybody knows us,” said Kham. “You’re not saying anything that doesn’t make me want to shoot you.”
“I have information that you can use! I know where the Cult of the Eye dwells. I can tell you, but you must swear by Sarish to do me no harm.”
“Fine, I…”
Sebastian put one hand on Kham’s shoulder. “Do not make such promises lightly. There are grave consequences for breaking Sarish’s oath.”
Kham shrugged him off. “As I was about to say, I’m not swearing to anything. Since Sebastian seems so concerned about keeping law and order around here, he can do the swearing. I swear enough for the rest of us.”
Sebastian took a deep breath. “I swear by Sarish that, should your information lead us to the Cult, we will not intentionally harm you.”
“Spoken like a true barrister,” said Kham with a smirk.
“As you well know, the Erdukeen invaded Canceri. They have imposed fines, levies, and a curfew. Needless to say, they have made more than a few enemies within the Theocracy and the people.”
“We noticed,” said Vlad.
“Well, some of those people decided to revolt. One man, Ralich is his name, called the faithful of Sarish together so that the Nierites might be purged from Nishanpur. The cult has a grand scheme that requires the Eye of Sarish. It is more than a relic dagger you see…it is a key.”
“A key to what?” asked Beldin.
“Please don’t say the grate to the sewers,” muttered Kham.
“Ralich intends to loose the ancient daemons of Sarish upon the city. While there are priests and clerics who can control daemons, what Ralich intends would take an army to withstand! There is no time to explain the details to the authorities. Now that he has the Eye, Ralich will begin the ritual soon. You must stop him!”
“Where is he?” asked Sebastian.
“The entrance to the ritual site is through his shop, Nishanpur Store and Supply. You should be able to find it in the back.”
“Why are you betraying the cult?” asked Vlad.
“Because Ralich is insane. I chose to help free my people from the Erdukeens. Nishanpur has always been a harsh place, but it was harsh because it had to be. Our faith demands it. I simply wanted to help my people. Ralich is willing to destroy the city and everyone in it just to strike at the Nierites. There is a difference between justice…and vengeance.”
Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 6a – In View of the Eye
The streets were empty save for a few Nierite patrols. Luck was with them as they arrived at Nishanpur Store and Supply without detection. Oddly, the door was unlocked.
Vlad kicked it open. The building housed a common general store with common everyday items.
“Over here.” Beldin pushed on one wall and a door opened.
The smell of age and torch fire filled their nostrils. A dimly lit spiral staircase led down into cold, still darkness.
After several long minutes, they came to the end of the stairs. The hallway opened into a cool, stone chamber.
A set of massive wooden double doors hung menacingly at the far end of the room. Huge symbols adorned with images of daemons and devils were carved into the doors. The wood itself seemed to breathe. Blue light streamed through the cracks, illuminating the room.
“Open it,” said Sebastian.
Vlad and Beldin bashed the double doors open.
A small cavern was on the other side. It was roughly hewn, but there was the touch of man upon the place. Ancient pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling were inlaid with intricate carvings, generations old. Chains dangled silently from the ceiling and were laid out on the floor in intricate patterns.
At the far end of the chamber was an emaciated old man resting cross-legged on the stone floor. Around his neck was an ancient symbol of Sarish. His right hand and forearm wore a green metal gauntlet; save a loincloth, it was all he wore. In his hands he held the unsheathed Eye of Sarish.
As Sebastian drew near, the old man raised an empty hand. He looked at the dark-kin with tired, sad eyes. “You’ve come to stop me, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Ralich,” Sebastian said softly. “Please put the dagger down. This is not the way.”
“Oh but it is,” whispered Ralich. “Those damn Erdukeen Nierities…” Tears welled in his eyes. “They wanted to search my shop for weapons. At the time, I didn’t have any. My boy resisted their unjust inquisition…and they killed him for it. THEY KILLED HIM FOR NOTHING!”
“I say we let him do it,” said Kham. “This whole damned city is a cesspool.”
“Would you say the same of Freeport?” snapped Sebastian. “What this man proposes is Armageddon! He isn’t providing a solution…it’s selfish rage!”
“Those bastards will pay for what they have done to us!” Ralich’s tears flowed freely. “For what they have done to me!”
“But so many will be harmed,” said Sebastian, edging closer. “If you summon an army of demons everyone will suffer, innocent and guilty alike.”
“We have lost too much to be thwarted now! Behold, the power of Sarish! See into his Eye!”
Ralich drove the naked blade of the Eye into the stone floor. It was at the center of a mystical circle carved into the very stone itself. For a moment, all was still.
But only for a moment.
The ground trembled. Just when it appeared the stone would crack, the tremor subsided.
“Uh oh,” said Kham.
Then, as though from a great distance, there was the sound like the wailing of ten thousand souls. The cavern wall began to glow a deep red behind Ralich. A sharp, burning wind tore through the room.
With a thunderclap, the stone exploded, flooding the room with light the color of fresh blood. Where the stone once was, there was an expanse of nothingness, pulsing with primal magical forces.
Ralich sat still, the eye in the middle of the storm. His gaze rose to meet Sebastian’s. There was pity, sorrow, and loss behind his eyes. And something else…regret.
“You cannot stop it now, my friend. The time for vengeance has—”
His words were cut short as several iron chains burst through his chest. Ralich’s eyes grew wide in shock for a moment before they rolled to the back of his head. He fell backwards, blood flowing freely from the fatal wounds.
Behind the body of Ralich rose a creature clothed in living chains. The chains swayed like iron vipers, waiting to strike.
The creature stepped into the room and somewhere, deep inside the darkest recesses of Sebastian’s mind, a voice was clear, cold, and final as death echoed.
“Flee, mortals. Turn away now and you shall leave unmolested from this doomed city. By Sarish, I swear this. Stay, and we will feast upon your souls!”
Kham turned around. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m out.”
Heart's Blood, Fire's Vengeance: Part 6b – In View of the Eye
Saggy, hooting lemures hopped through the portal behind the chain devil.
“Can’t you close the portal?” shouted Beldin. He batted aside an animated chain.
“The dagger!” shouted Sebastian. He clawed his way towards it, battling wind and chains. The portal was a roaring maelstrom of fury, belching demon after demon. “Remove the dagger!”
Vlad sliced one of the lemures in two. It melted away into a nauseating pile. “I can’t reach it!”
Sebastian moved closer. If he could just grab hold of it…
Chains snaked towards him. Sebastian put up one hand. “Magis arma!”
A glowing field of force deflected the barbed chain. He rolled back towards the dagger and grabbed it with both hands.
“I’m not…” Sebastian gritted his teeth. The wind was so strong that he could barely see. Tears streamed from his eyes. “…strong…enough!”
“No one is, mortal,” the devil echoed in his head. “Look upon me and despair.”
Sebastian caught sight of the chain demon’s face. They parted. It was his mother’s face.
“Why did you abandon me?” she wailed from between the chains that wreathed her face. “Why should the people of Nishanpur deserve a better fate than I?”
“Stop it!” howled Sebastian.
“Let me try!” shouted Beldin. The dwarf hacked a lemure in half as he pounded his way over.
He skewered his waraxe into the ground and then got a solid grip on the Eye of Sarish. He pulled hard.
Nothing happened.
Sebastian was on his knees, the magical shield flickering as chain after chain lashed at him. His magic was the only thing keeping him alive.
“It’s in too deep!” shouted Beldin. The dwarf released the dagger and rolled, grabbing his axe as he did so. A lemure pounded at the spot where he had been standing. “Vlad?”
“Little…” Three chains danced around Vlad. One snapped around his shield arm, dragging him forward. “…busy!”
“That’s it,” said Sebastian. “Nishanpur is ruined.”
There was the sound of a bullet striking metal.
The chain devil’s head snapped up to look at the source. “Who dares?!”
Another bullet ricocheted off the hilt of the Eye of Sarish.
“No!” reverberated the devil’s cry. All the chains turned as one with feral intelligence to focus on Kham.
Two more pistols were in Kham’s hands. He fired both just as every chain in the room spiraled towards him.
Kham’s aim was true. The Eye of Sarish shattered.
All was silent as the portal stopped spewing its hellish fury. Then it reversed, as if taking a deep breath. One of the lemures hurdled backwards through the portal.
“I will not be denied!” snarled the devil.
The chains that wrapped around the devil shot outwards, firing through solid stone to anchor it in place. More dretches flew past it into the abyss.
Vlad fell on his back, sliding towards the yawning portal.
Beldin grabbed him by the wrist. “Got you!” The dwarf was nigh unmovable when he wanted to be.
Sebastian slowly rose to his feet.
His mother’s face was still on the thing. “I’m suffering in hell, Sebastian! Look what you did!”
“I’m sorry, mother.” Sebastian extended both hands. “Incendaries globus!”
The blast of flames exploded inside the portal, consuming the devil. It shrieked as its chains melted and snapped. The devil was catapulted backwards through the portal, roaring as it went.
With a sound like a tombstone dropped on concrete, the portal snapped shut. The air was still.
Kham holstered his pistols. “Okay, so I changed my mind.”
Kham ducked into an alleyway. Sebastian was waiting for him there.
“Well?”
“It’s bad,” said Sebastian. “Very bad. The sketch artist has pictures of you everywhere. But there’s something strange about the wanted posters.”
“You mean besides the fact that I’m now wanted in two different cities?”
Sebastian nodded. “Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about Freeport. As far as anyone knows, you’re dead. That’s what happens when they can’t recover your body in all the chaos. And that’s what worries me.”
“Okay, now I’m actually starting to worry. What are you talking about?”
“Commander Von Grebel,” said Sebastian. “The man you said you shot in the head? His body is missing. The wanted posters that list you aren’t for murder. Not yet, anyway. If we can get to the body or ensure it’s never found…”
“Then I might just have a chance of getting out of here alive.” Kham shook his head. “Your hometown sucks.”
Sebastian smirked. “So does yours. But…”
“But we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Kham threw one arm around Sebastian’s shoulders. “I know, I know.”
Chapter 39: Silence, Silver and Secrets - Introduction
This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “Silence, Silver and Secrets” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, 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)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
Well, well, well. Where last we left our heroes, Kham had just shot a Nierite officer in the back of the head after escaping from prison. That was totally unexpected but not out of character for Kham, who was getting more than a little aggravated with the law.
Far be it for me to let such a thing pass without comment! Kham’s victim turns out to be a lot more important than he could have ever guessed. And the stakes are higher than ever, thanks to a little thing called, “whoever doesn’t show up to the game but was in the last session gets to be held hostage.”
A purple-haired elorii strode into the Bone Market of Nishanpur, looking around in distaste. It had been no simple feat to enter the city with her weapons intact; the Nierite hang-up about Sarishan steel made it that much harder to smuggle her elven thinblade in. Fortunately, coins and her natural beauty won the day. The flirting, with humans no less, made her feel dirty. She scanned the Market for a place to bathe.
Her eyes lit upon a large, vaguely human-shaped scaffolding in the center of Bone Market. The structure was stuffed with twigs and straw.
One of the Swords of Nier caught her gaze. “Ugly, isn’t it? Looks like they’re going to go ahead with their Burning Man festival anyway.”
The elorii arched a delicate eyebrow. “Festival?”
The Nierite shock of red curls flexed as he shrugged. “Something the Nerothians do. We’ve repealed the curfew, but you should be careful tonight. A pretty lady like yourself shouldn’t be alone on a night like this; the whole week is a festival.”
Ilmarė peered at the Nierite out of the corner of her eye. It was a clumsy come on. She was about to respond when the scaffolding was lit. The flames leaped high into the dark sky.
Even the Nierite soldier appreciated the sight. “Not bad,” he rested one hand on the pommel of the wavy-bladed greatsword that all Swords of Nier carried with them. “Even the Lord of Flame enjoys a pyre such as this.”
Then the barrage began. Naked, ash-smeared figures emerged from the darkness. Armed with balls of snow and chunks of ice, they assaulted the burning effigy. The sizzle and hiss of the snow hitting the fire filled the air.
“What?” shouted the soldier. He whistled and pointed to other similar accoutered Nierites, who drew their swords and advanced on the naked Nerothians. “Stop them!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ilmarė made a mental note. The soldier was much more important than she thought.
The Nerothians began to pelt the Swords, as well as continuing to hurl ice and snow upon the burning effigy. In some hands, snowballs were replaced with rocks.
The captain nearest Ilmarė fell to one knee, clutching his bleeding head.
“They hit the captain!” shouted another of the Nierites. Military discipline turned to rage as the entire Bone Market erupted into chaos. The mob of Nerothians surged around the square, confronted by a growing number of Swords that converged on the scene to try and break up the disturbance.
Ilmarė backed away from the fracas and drew her sword.
As a few Nerothian worshippers were beaten down, the mob turned angry. Several Nierite soldiers were buried under a hail of ice and snow. Scrawny figures clad in sackcloth and ashes struggled hand-to-hand with Knights of the Red Fist in full armor. Several bodies lay motionless, reddish stains seeping through the snow.
The situation quickly turned into a general rout. The Nerothians’ meager missiles were no match for the Swords of Nier with their gleaming greatswords. The crowd dispersed, scattering back into the streets and alleys. The Swords stood in the Bone Market, bruised and bloodied, staring at the sputtering remains of the burning effigy.
Another soldier huffed up to the Nierite captain, who was still clutching his head. Although she was a safe distance away, Ilmarė’s keen hearing picked up their conversation.
The streets of the Barren Hills Quarter were muddy and slushy with melting snow, but were somewhat cleaner than the streets in other portions of the city. Kham and Vlad had little difficulty in locating Bochin’s.
Bochin’s stood out from the buildings around it. Many of the other buildings of the city were decorated by typical Cancerese frescoes or bas-reliefs, but this one was unusual in that it was plain, with large windows that were draped with colorful hangings.
Inside, the floor was covered by skins and brightly colored woven rugs. The hangings on the windows tinted the light that managed to filter into the building in warm tones. Rather than the stark bench seating often found elsewhere in Nishanpur, the establishment had low tables, and the seats were draped with more skins.
They sidled up to the bar. “Hard to find a good place to drink around here,” muttered Kham. They were both already drunk.
“We haven’t had a drink like this since…” Vlad thought, staring into his mug, “since Sweet Savona.”
A large fire pit filled the center of the main room. A roaring fire was built therein, over which spitted animals roasted, filling the room with smoke and the smell of spiced meat.
“Yeah, well,” Kham downed his mug and ordered another bottle from the serving wench. “I’m down a vice, so drinking and women will have to compensate. Speaking of women…” he looked around.
Most of the patrons were paying attention to a clear area, where a man with the typical braided beard of a Hinterlander sat, quietly playing a large, two-stringed violin-like instrument. Though the man played quietly, almost reverently, his complex tune echoed throughout the room. He finishes his rendition as they looked on, and an unusual form of applause followed his performance, as the appreciative listeners gently clinked their utensils against glasses and plates.
Vlad’s lip curled in a sneer. “Nierites,” he growled.
Swords of Nier flanked them at the bar. They had been heavily involved in the tussle surrounding Burning Man, and most of them showed it, with large bruises on their faces and hands where they were pummeled with ice and hit by the Nerothians.
“That festival is ridiculous,” spat a particularly striking young Nierite. She had red hair tied up in a bun and sparkling green eyes. “It’s an insult the Sword of the Heavens.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t attack what you don’t understand,” Vlad muttered without looking up.
“You know what’s going to happen,” said the woman. “The Nerothians are going to use it as an excuse. With that criminal that they broke out of prison, the heretics are going to rebel, I just know it.”
Kham pulled his hood over his head a little lower. “The Burning Man festival is just a celebration of life over death.”
“Oh yeah?” sneered the Nierite woman. “I think it was a symbolic slaughter of Nier! And then there’s the fact that we can’t find the Commander’s body…”
Vlad nodded towards a poster to Kham’s left. Kham looked over to see a sketch-artist’s accurate rendering of his face.
“You know what Nerothians do with the bodies of the enemy?” asked another of the Nierites on the other side of the bar. “They animate them…make them…do things.”
“I’d like to get my hands on that son of a bitch who murdered him,” said the Nierite woman. “I’d string him up by his loins and light his guts on fire.”
At that moment, Kham and Vlad locked gazes. Kham nodded his head slowly. Vlad took a deep breath.
What the hell? There was no way they were going to leave the bar without being spotted.
In one motion, Kham grabbed the Nierite woman by her hair and kissed her deeply.
The woman gasped for breath as Kham let her go. “Wow,” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “She really did set my loins on fire!” He hopped up onto the bar.
Vlad turned and punched the nearest Nierite in the face. The man spun off of his bar stool in surprise.
“It’s von Grebel’s murderer!”
The Nierites reached for their swords. The woman shrieked in rage. Gauntleted hands reached for them…
Kham downed a potion and promptly turned invisible.
“Where’d he go?” shouted one of the Nierites.
Kham moved to toss another potion vial to his companion, but in his drunken state, didn’t remember that Vlad couldn’t see him. The vial bounced off the Milandisian’s head and shattered on the tavern floor.
Vlad went under in a pile of fists and curses as Kham slipped out of Bochin’s.
“Great,” he muttered to himself, “now I lost my Milandisian.”
The Velvet Glove was an innocuous-looking establishment in the Trade Quarter. Upon entering, however, it quickly became obvious that it was no ordinary public house. Beyond the bar was what looked like a fighting ring, a roped-off area whose floor was stained with blood and sweat. Around the ring sat a few benches, presumably for spectators. A match wasn’t taking place at the moment, though judging by the hardened appearance of the patrons and the way they were constantly sizing one another up, a bout could erupt at any time.
Beldin the Solani dwarf seated himself at the bar. He knew his way around a mug or two.
Seated next to him was a most unusual sight: a dark-kin. What made this particular dark-kin unusual was not his heritage, but rather his clothing, which was a close approximation of the uniform of the Knights of the Red Fist.
“I’m looking for a body,” Beldin ordered some ale. He and Sebastian had begun combing Nishanpur for Haron von Grebel’s corpse; without it, the Nierites would never stop hunting them. “Know where I might find one?”
The dark-kin looked over at him. He was a young man, not much above twenty years old. “Name’s Ayrus Dhat. And you are?”
“Beldin Soulforge,” said the dwarf. “You with the Knights of the Red Fist?”
“I am.” Ayrus nodded deferentially. “A mere stable hand, but I am honored to be a member.”
Beldin’s brows knitted together. He didn’t like talking to Nierites, especially about such a sensitive topic.
“You must be looking for the Commander’s corpse,” Ayrus said matter-of-factly.
Beldin took a sip from a mug the bartender provided. “I might.”
“You and the rest of the Nierite army. I wouldn’t try too hard though. Seems that they caught one of the murderer’s compatriots; nearly caught the killer himself, but he’s a wily fellow.”
Beldin nearly spat out the contents of his mug. “Oh?”
“Yeah, a val’Abebi, right? They caught his Milandisian friend. And the Nierites like nothing more than capturing a Milandisian after the defeat of Leonydas’ army. You know him?”
“I know of him,” Beldin said carefully.
“They think this Kham guy is the leader of a rebellion they staged. He’s obviously organized enough to coordinate a break out from prison; then there was the incident with the Burning Man…”
Beldin nodded. “I heard. You think he’s behind that too?”
“The Autocrat thinks so, and that’s all that matters,” said Ayrus.
“Hey!” shouted a gruff voice from across the bar. “Hey, you! Dwarf! You’re Beldin, right?”
Beldin turned around. “Who wants to know?”
A grinning dark-kin with pitch-black skin and bright white horns glared down at him. “Name’s Marekal. I heard about you. You came over here from de islands with a couple of Freeporters—“
Beldin hopped off the bench. Before the rival dark-kin could finger him as a compatriot of Kham’s, he shoved one pudgy finger into the dark-kin’s chest. “You looking for trouble?”
The dark-kin grinned a mouthful of jagged teeth. “Oh yeah, you’ve got to be de same guy. You’re de dwarf who beat Aggro! I fought dat orc. He’s one mean son of a bitch. But I beat him. And if I can beat him, I can beat you!”
Beldin handed his axe to Ayrus. “Hold on to this for a moment.” He turned back to big dark-kin. “I’m used to beating hunks of metal into something useful. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Beldin flexed his fingers. Marekal bellowed and roared, playing up to the crowd.
“Marekal’s the bouncer for The Velvet Glove,” said Ayrus. “I’d warn you about this place but you’ve already challenged him to a duel, so it’s a little late for that.”
Beldin tied up the various ends of his beard into a single knot. “I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” said Ayrus. “Just remember, he’s a dark-kin and you’re not.”
“I’m familiar with dark-kin too.” Before Beldin could continue, a bell rang. Marekal pounded towards him.
Beldin stood his ground and punched the bigger dark-kin twice in the gut. Marekal just grinned.
“Dat all you got dwarf?”
There was a flash of light as two punches connected with Beldin’s skull. He stood there and took it.
Beldin retaliated with a shoulder ram that knocked Marekal back a few feet. The dark-kin was big, but no match for a dwarf’s lower center of gravity.
“The Knights of the Red Fist spar vith me,” sneered Marekal. “You don’t have a chance. Dose fifty gold doubloons are mine.”
“It’s true,” said Ayrus. “He does.”
“Thanks.” Beldin put up both his forearms to block another hammering series of blows. He lowered his guard…
And got punched in the solar plexus.
Beldin coughed and retaliated with two more punches.
“Vhat?” Marekal looked genuinely surprised. “Dat should have stunned you!”
“I see you don’t box many dwarves.” Beldin put Marekal on the defensive.
Something slapped Beldin hard from behind. He spun, convinced that a patron had joined in the fight…
Only to see Marekal’s long tail whipping and snapping out from behind him.
“You know vhat I think? I think you’re friends with dat Kham guy,” Marekal whispered in Beldin’s ear as they grappled. Two more blows hammered into Beldin’s skull. “I think de Knights of the Red Fist vould be very interested to know all about it. A bounty on your head is probably vorth more den dose doubloons.”
The whip-like tail snapped down at the dwarf’s feet. It wrapped around one leg and yanked hard.
Beldin barely moved an inch. He reached down and grabbed the tail.
Marekal’s eyes went wide.
With a hard yank, Beldin pulled Marekal’s tail taut. The dark-kin yelped as his spinal cord was whipped about. The gesture brought the dark-kin right into Beldin’s waiting fist.
Marekal landed hard on the floor, unconscious.
Ayrus handed a pouch full of Canceri gold bhats to Beldin. “Try the Corpse Quarter. If there’s a body, vertical or horizontal, it’s probably shuffling around there.”
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 3a – The Witching Hour
When dawn finally broke on the City of Secrets, it was a different world. The usually busy streets were eerily empty. It was as if the whole city was holding its breath, awaiting some signal of what was to come.
Only a fraction of the usual traffic walked the streets. The people at the inns and markets were more animated than usual, whispering desperately to each other about the events. Many citizens were fearful; who knew what the repercussions of the Burning Man incident would be?
“Are you sure this is the place?” Sebastian asked irritably. Ilmarė had joined Sebastian and Beldin, having recently disembarked from the Bloody Vengeance.
Slogging through the dirty, narrow streets and alleys of the Corpse Quarter was an unpleasant task at best. Trying to find a single missing body among the surly inhabitants of the Quarter was like trying to find a match in a bone-bed.
“That’s what my sources said.” Beldin gripped his axe, equally aggravated.
Questioning the denizens of the Corpse Quarter didn’t help much either. No one had seen a body matching Haron’s description, and most of the shopkeepers and other public folks responded in a surly fashion.
“No sign of Kham either,” said Ilmarė. “And what of Vlad?”
“In prison, near as I can tell,” said Beldin. “They Nierites won’t even disclose where they are keeping him. I think they’re afraid of another rescue attempt like the one on Kham. He’s being treated as a political prisoner.”
“Vlad?” asked Ilmarė in disbelief. “Are we talking about the same human?”
“What about the Sextant?” asked Sebastian. “Any luck researching the ssanu archives?”
Ilmarė sighed. “Yes and no. The Sextant is a means to an end; it won’t open a portal to R’lyeh, it will just lead us to Hell’s Triangle to open the portal. We’ll need another artifact to do that.”
“Of course,” muttered Beldin.
“And that artifact is?” asked Sebastian.
“The Moonsilver Orb. I haven’t been able to find out much more about it other than the name.”
Sebastian stopped another shuffling, miserable citizen and asked once more if he had any knowledge of von Grebel.
“Why should I care about some lost Nierite? They are all lost to begin with. They interfere in Neroth’s worship, but not for much longer. They shall soon enough learn His truth.”
“What truth might that be?” asked Beldin.
“All things die. It is only a matter of time.”
“That’s really helpful,” said Ilmarė sourly. “Stupid human.”
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 3a – The Witching Hour
After a soggy, miserable day running around the city, the smoky air took on the crisp coldness of night. A light snowfall began, dusting the ground.
They ended up searching near the Vein of Sarish, the canal that linked the city to river traffic. Even though it was half-choked with ice, the canal still saw a fair amount of traffic. Men used long poles, with barbs on the end, to break the ice and push it away from their gondolas and flat-bottomed boats. Traffic on the canal was thinner after dark, but barges still continued to pull in and out of the various docks and piers.
“I just heard a splash,” said Ilmarė. “As if something heavy was just dropped into the canal.”
Her elven sight caught sudden movement from the shadows near the edge of the docks. A group of cloaked figures was moving away from the canal.
They ran to investigate.
In the icy water, was a human-sized body floating face down. It was clothed in a torn and dirty tunic and leggings. The tunic was caught on a splintered piece of wood along one of the pilings at the edge of the canal. The body bobbed back and forth in the current, a grisly buoy.
Something small and furry crawled its way out of Sebastian’s robes onto his shoulder. “Dracuul! Follow those men!”
The little bat flapped off in pursuit.
Ilmarė frowned down at the corpse. “That’s not by any chance the corpse we’re looking for?”
Beldin reached down to fish the body out of the water.
“It can’t be,” said Sebastian. “And yet…”
“You haven’t even looked at the body!” Ilmarė found all of Nishanpur to be a disgusting mess. She didn’t relish the idea of plunging back into its alleyways looking for a stray corpse. “How can you be sure?”
“Because,” said Sebastian, wiping away the hair from the back of the corpse’s skull to prove it was still intact, “Kham shot von Grebel in the back of the head.”
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4a – Tale of the Body Thief
Sebastian led them northward through the Trade Quarter and toward the Street of Green Tiles. He led them through the park, which held the Shrine of Swift-Winged Salvation, and continued north, into the Barren Hills Quarter. The homes were much less affluent than those of the upper Trade Quarter and seemed to have an air of quiet efficiency.
Von Grebel’s family lived a modest home, unornamented, but clean and in good repair. Sebastian knocked on the door.
A man answered with the look of a smith, with a strongly built frame despite his graying hair. A woman stood behind him, older still, her hair unkempt and tangled, her robes frayed at the edges.
“Yes?”
“We have news about Haron von Grebel,” said Sebastian gravely.
“I am Yehumik Hatar, who are you?”
“Sebastian Arnyal, but that is not important. We’d like you to identify a body.”
“You have it with you?”
Sebastian indicated the figure in sackcloth draped over Beldin’s shoulder.
“Bring it in, please.”
Ilmarė snorted. To walk around with a corpse was inconceivable to elven sensibilities, but then they were in Nishanpur, where corpses walked the streets.
They entered. A young girl, not more than fourteen years of age, quietly seated herself on a stool next to the man.
Beldin gently lowered the corpse to the floor. He cleared his throat, indicating the women.
“It’s fine. If it is Haron’s body, his fiancée and mother have the right to see it.”
Beldin arched a busy brow in surprise. The older woman had to be von Grebel’s mother. Which meant the young girl was his bride to be. With a shrug, he peeled back the sackcloth from the body.
With lamps at hand, they could clearly see the extent of the injuries Von Grebel sustained before his death.
Von Grebel wore the undertunic, boots and trousers that belong to his uniform, but his overtunic and any armor, including his rank markings, was missing. There were no weapons on the body.
Covered in bruises, von Grebel appeared to have been beaten, or perhaps to have fallen from a height. He also had gashes on the inside of his arms, stretching from wrist to elbow.
“Bruising all over the body indicates that he was badly beaten,” said Sebastian. Von Grebel’s wrists had two long, crooked slashes. “The wounds on his arms imply he tried to kill himself and succeeded.”
“But why would someone dump his body in the canal?” asked Ilmarė. “The cuts are jagged, not clean, as they would be if they were made with a dagger.”
“That’s definitely him,” said Yehumik. “Thank you for returning him to us. Please, feel free to stay until after his body is consigned to the flames of Nier’s Judgment.
A bat flapped in through the open doorway and landed on Sebastian’s shoulder. It squeaked in his ear.
Sebastian nodded. “I’m afraid we cannot stay. We have other business to attend to.”
Yehumik walked them out. “If you find his killers,” he said in low tones, “make them suffer for what they did.”
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4b – Tale of the Body Thief
“According to Dracuul, the cloaked figures’ destination was a wrecked shell of a house near the ruined Palaces of the Devil Kings.”
Beldin eyed the structure in front of him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“That little flying rat told you all that?” asked Ilmarė.
Sebastian sniffed. “Dracuul is an excellent tracker. I suspect the answer to our missing corpse lay within.”
The place was completely deserted. No one in the neighborhood dared to go near the Palaces after dark.
Beldin kicked open the door. The house was actually built on the foundation of a much older structure. Columns covered in Nerothian hieroglyphics lay in pieces all around them. Flanking the room on either side was a pair of sarcophagi carved in the shape of the Devil Kings of old.
“Nobody’s home,” said Ilmarė.
A figure emerged from the shadows. It coalesced, revealing itself to be Haron von Grebel. Behind him stood another figure. They both had the gaunt look of those long dead.
“Do not stand between me and the ones I seek.” Von Grebel said in a low, menacing voice.
“I will take care of this, Haron,” said the woman. “You have other matters to attend to…”
“I will not harm my family.” Von Grebel tried to confront the woman, but she silenced him with a gesture. He cowered before her.
“You vill do as instructed, thrall.” The woman’s voice held a hint of amusement.
Von Grebel turned briefly to regard Sebastian. “I am ordered to kill my intended, and her family. If you kill Markeshia,” he indicated the woman, “I will no longer be bound to do so…you do not have to destroy her completely; she is weaker than I am, and I can break free of her control if you but destroy her corporeal form long enough for me to do so. Please, help me. I cannot disobey her direct command, but I will not be too swift in my task.”
With a quick step backwards, Von Grebel disappeared into the shadows again, a faint misty shimmering all that remained to mark his departure
“How interesting,” mused the female, her long, black talons clacking as she tapped her fingers against the wall. “Defiance in vord and reluctant obedience in deed. I shall have to remember dat for later. Now, as for you …” Markeshia bared her fangs, and cackled with glee.
The sarcophagi creaked open. Things long dead awoke from their slumber. Demonic, horned humanoids crawled out; their skin was drawn back over skulls, tufts of patchy hair clung to whitened scalps, patches of bone peeking through frozen, dead flesh.
Sebastian and Beldin moved back to back.
“And now we know why they call it the Palace of the Devil Kings,” sighed Ilmarė.
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4c – Tale of the Body Thief
“Don’t look at them!” shouted Sebastian.
The shambling monstrosities with wicked, leering faces culled from the depths of hell, trudged forward with the patience of the dead.
Ilmarė frowned. “These are mere servants. We’ve nothing to fear from them.”
“It’s true.” Markeshia clucked her tongue. “Dese vere merely slaves. If they were truly Devil Kings, you’d all be dead by now. But I think dey shall suffice.” The barely clad vampire lifted her arms and howled.
When Beldin and Sebastian didn’t respond, the elorii looked over her shoulder. They were paralyzed with fear, eyes wide in color-drained expressions of terror.
“Oh, for the love of Osalian,” muttered Ilmarė. She pointed at her companions. “Leithia achas!”
The dark-kin and dwarf snapped out of their paralysis, gasping for breath.
“Now,” said Ilmarė, “do something useful!”
Sebastian stumbled backwards as one of the Devil King servants stretched a hand towards him. “Don’t let him touch you, they have the plague!”
The crumbling fingertips reached for Sebastian’s cheek but then stopped. The Devil King servant hesitated. It recoiled, confused.
Before the Devil King servant could gain advantage of its position, it was smashed sideways by Beldin’s axe.
“Get a hold of yourself Sebastian!” shouted Ilmarė. She knocked an arrow with her serpent bow and fired at Markeshia.
The vampire snatched the arrow out of the air. “You’re not fighting a mere human, elf. I have lived longer dan you.”
Behind them, near the doorway, a pack of wolves bayed. Beldin slammed the door shut with one foot, sweeping an arc before him.
“And,” Markeshia’s full lips split into a devilish grin, “I have many tricks up my sleeve.”
“That may be,” said Ilmarė. “But I have something you don’t have…” she ducked low. “A sorcerer!”
With a shout of “Incendiaries globus!”, flames blasted forward, engulfing the Devil King servants and the vampire.
The undead servants silently writhed in pain, their features even more hellish as they smoldered and crackled. They collapsed into ash.
“You vill pay for that!” Markeshia shrieked in rage. Her own burnt flesh was restoring itself before their very eyes. “Children of de night, heed my call!”
The door wracked as angry wolves threw themselves at it over and over. Then it broke open.
Four large, silver-backed wolves growled in the doorway.
“The only children those wolves belong to is Osalian.” Ilmarė pointed at the wolf pack. “îdh!”
With a whine, each wolf lay its head down, one by one, asleep.
Before Markeshia could react, Beldin charged forward, axe raised. He swiped it through the air where Markeshia’s neck had been.
“She’s escaping!” shouted Sebastian. The vampire transformed into a mist. A red vapor snaked along the ground. “There!” It disappeared into a crack.
“We must get through the floor to her lair,” said Sebastian. “We haven’t much time!”
Beldin looked around for a splint and found it in the shattered door. He dragged the heavy piece of wood over to the crack.
“Much time before what?” asked Ilmarė.
Beldin took out his morning star. With a mighty heave, he slammed the morning star into the splint. The crack in the floor widened imperceptibly.
“Before she wakes up!” said Sebastian.
“I’m not sure that this is a good idea,” said Ilmarė. “Didn’t Haron say that we only had to weaken her?”
Sebastian looked at Ilmarė with a mixture of disdain and surprise at her ignorance. “Markeshia is immortal. She will never stop. Perhaps you do not worry yourself about such things, but if we do not stop her now, our children and our children’s children will be haunted by her for the rest of our days.”
Silence, Silver, and Secrets: Part 4d – Tale of the Body Thief
“Got it!” shouted Beldin. “Stand back!”
With another mighty blow, the splint shattered the spider web of cracks that marked the entrance to Markeshia’s tomb. The floor collapsed and gave way.
Ilmarė hopped down into the hole. It was a small chamber with a sarcophagus in the center. Markeshia’s likeness was engraved on the top, a peacefully slumbering form that belied its owner’s true nature.
Beldin grunted as he pushed against the heavy stone lid. “This will only take a minute.”
With a heave, he shoved the lid off of the sarcophagus.
Sebastian had his hands up. Beldin stared down into the sarcophagus. Nobody said anything.
“Well?” Sebastian edged closer to peer into the coffin. “Beldin?”
Markeshia sat straight up. “Defend me!” she shrieked.
Beldin, his eyes glazed, turned and slammed Sebastian sideways with his axe. The dark-kin collided with the wall and slumped to the ground.
“Praeumbro caliginosus!” hissed Markeshia. The room was engulfed in an obscuring mist. When it cleared, she was gone.
“Well, that didn’t go well,” said Ilmarė.
Beldin looked around, blinking in confusion.
“She ensorcelled you, old friend,” said Sebastian. “It happens to the best of us.”
“Not to dark-kin.” Beldin helped Sebastian to his feet. “I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” said Sebastian. “I’m afraid I have bigger problems.”
Ilmarė arched a delicate eyebrow.
“The Devil King servants,” Sebastian leaned against Markeshia’s sarcophagus. “They would not touch me.”
“Perhaps they knew you were a sorcerer,” said Ilmarė. She didn’t believe it.
The figure of Haron von Grebel stepped into view. Oddly, however, he moved no further.
“It seems I owe you a debt,” said von Grebel. “You have defeated Markeshia, the one who made me. In doing so you have released me from the servitude I would have suffered under her.” The stoic Nierite, now become something he never intended to be, looked over Sebastian with an appraising eye. He then retrieved a holy symbol of Nier from beneath his tunic. “Give this to Ashrem val’Virdan at the Temple of the Everlasting Flame. Tell him what has happened. He will heal you. Our debt is cancelled.”
Sebastian took the symbol. “And what of your bride? Will you leave her be?”
Haron paused as he turned to leave.
“Tell my family I am sorry. I will not see them again. They will believe if you say that I have been destroyed. Better that they think me dead – at peace and consigned to the eternal flames of Nier. I would ask that you tell them that, rather than the truth.”
“We will,” said Beldin. “I swear on it.”
There was a hiss of air, and von Grebel disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
“It doesn’t add up,” said Sebastian. “Markeshia was most assuredly created by the Akali. Why go through all this trouble?”
“A commander like von Grebel must know much about the Nierite occupation,” said Ilmarė. “She was undoubtedly a pawn in a bigger plan.”
“Like us,” Beldin began climbing out of the hole.
“So the Nerothians get their spy, the Nierites get their body, and Vlad and Kham can no longer be tried for kidnapping or murder.” Sebastian gestured for Ilmarė to climb ahead of him. “We saved more than one life today.”
When they were both out of earshot, Sebastian succumbed to a fit of wracking coughs that nearly brought him to his knees. He spat up something black and viscous onto the floor of the chamber. The dark-kin had more in common with the Devil King servants than he liked to admit.
“Now,” Sebastian said to the likeness of Markeshia, “If I could only save my own.”
Chapter 40: A Game of Fox and Geese - Introduction
This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “A Game of Fox and Geese” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, 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)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
This adventure really depends on the kindness of PCs. Since the main characters are “The Touched” (basically, mentally deficient NPCs), it’s questionable if your traditional adventuring party would give two figs about what amounts to a babysitting job. So I had to tweak the adventure to include a character we haven’t seen in awhile.
This Touched character ended up providing plenty of motivation for the party. In fact, he was almost too much motivation, as the PCs focused on him to the exclusion of the other Touched. It worked out fine in the end though.
The bitter winter was giving way to a mild, wet spring. With the midday sun blazing above, Kham found himself in the heart of Nishanpur; the Bone Market. Despite scattered damage throughout the city from the massive earthquake last winter that was still being repaired, life goes on. The most prized and expensive items from all over Onara could be obtained in the Market, from silks to swords, so long as the swords were of Sarishan Steel.
“I’m telling you,” said Kham over his shoulder. “It was him. I saw him with my own eyes.”
“Was this before or after you lost Vlad?” asked Beldin disapprovingly.
“After.” Kham’s head snapped back to address Beldin. “And no, I wasn’t that drunk. I know what Quintus looks like!”
“It can’t possibly be him,” said Ilmarė. “There is no reason for Quintus to be here. In fact, it’s the last place on Arcanis he would want to be.”
The Bone Market was packed with folk of military bearing. Nierites from all over Canceri have had gathering at Nishanpur, as well as Hunder, Vrain, and other sites where temples to the Lord of Battles were prominent, for weeks now. Within days the holy festival of Kindling Dawn would signal a celebration of renewal for all who follow the Judge of the Gods.
In preparation, many were buying imported foodstuffs for feasts, incense and animals to offer in sacrifice, and even extra slaves to help tend to guests during the annual gathering. Unfortunately, the festival happened to be the same week as the Burning Man festival of the Nerothians.
“Well, I know what I saw. And he was just shuffling down the street around here.” Kham peered through the crowd. “He looked terrible; beard and everything. But it was definitely Quintus.”
“Maybe you should spend more time worrying about the friends you got imprisoned,” snapped Sebastian.
“Oh, I’m not worried about Vlad.” Kham shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets. “The Nierites wouldn’t think of executing him now. It might cause a riot.”
The locals were less than pleased with the overall arrangement. The hushed whispers often descended to deadly silence when Nierites entered the vicinity, and many Nierites found that prices for even the simplest items tended to skyrocket when they entered the market. Incidents between the Swords, especially, and members of the local population had definitely increased.
“Besides,” Kham addressed Sebastian, “you bought four of the best barristers money can buy.”
“I hope it’s enough,” Sebastian said somberly.
Ilmarė froze in her tracks. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” asked Beldin. He couldn’t see over the crowd.
A group of men in the garb of Sarishan priests were arguing with a group in the accoutrements of warriors of Nier. Their voices rose steadily, and many people moved away from what promised to become a fight. No one had summoned the guards; in fact, they seemed to be intentionally ignoring the affair.
The point of contention was a group of plainly dressed folk standing idly behind the arguing men.
“Dese men are not your property, warrior,” said one of the Sarishan priests. He was easily identified by the Mark of Sarish on his forehead, an inverted triangle between two parentheses. “You have no claim over dem. Leave us.”
“Neither are they yours, priest,” replied a Sword of Nier. “You have no more right to constrain them. And I will not see them led like calves to slaughter.”
“They don’t have any of the typical caste markings of Nishanpur,” said Sebastian. “Who they are, whether foreigners or field hands, is impossible to say.”
Some of the six people look fearfully at the arguing group; others stared vacantly, or were preoccupied with small objects. They consisted of a human female, a dark-kin female, and the rest were all male.
“Quintus,” whispered Ilmarė.
One of the men, with a slightly more muscular build than the others, had a tattoo on his left arm, partially covered by the sleeve of his shirt. It read “Legio Occultus…”
“The Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun,” said Ilmarė in disbelief.
“You accuse us of slaughter?” continued the priest. “It is your kind dat have bathed our land in blood and fire!”
“Yours have been bleeding the land for centuries,” the Nierite replied. “We seek only to cauterize the wounds before this land bleeds to death!”
Kham walked over to the legionnaire and stood in front of him. He didn’t respond.
“Quintus? Hey, Quintus?” Kham waved his hand in front of the legionnaire. “Yep, it’s Quintus all right.” He pushed Quintus with one finger, but the man’s expressionless features didn’t change. He merely moved slightly.
“Hah!” snarled the Sarishan. “Leave us before you find yourself food for demons!”
The Nierite put one hand on his two-handed greatsword. “We will not leave until you give over these blameless folk to us!”
“Uh, I think a fight is about to break out...” Beldin reached for his axe.
“Up we go!” Kham bent over and lugged Quintus over his shoulders with some effort.
“Hey!” shouted the Nierite.
“Leave him be!” shouted the Sarishan.
The Nierite stepped forward, only to find the Sarishan priest in his path. He backhanded the priest without thinking.
The priest fell. The Sarishan wiped his face with the back of his hand. Blood was smeared across it.
The Mark of Sarish on the priest’s head began to glow. “You’ll be sorry you did that.”
“Uh oh,” said Sebastian.
“Uh oh, what?” asked Kham. He was having difficulty keeping the heavy man aloft.
“Marks of Sarish bind those branded with them to not commit violence or have violence committed against them,” said Sebastian. “The Nierite just violated the priest’s Mark. That means—“
There was a popping, hissing sound. Four shrieking winged devils appeared in a puff of brimstone ahead and behind them.
“Vorlerath Demons,” sighed Ilmarė.
The Nierites drew their two-handed swords and arrayed themselves in formation as the demons advanced.
“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” said Sebastian.
“There’s something worse than Vorlerath Demons?” asked Kham. He whirled around, trying to keep an eye on the demons, the Nierites, and find a way out of the crowd.
Sebastian pointed skyward as a pair of huge winged shadows passed over them. “Yes.”
Knights of the Red Fist, mounted on screeching red monstrosities, crashed into the Bone Market. People ran screaming, scattering to the four winds as Vorlerath Demons, Sarishan Priests, and the Swords of Nier
Kham ran as fast as he could. “What the hell are those?” he shouted over to Sebastian.
“Melatorn Devils.” Sebastian was sweating from the exertion. “Demonic mounts. For the Knights.”
“Yeah I figured that out,” said Kham.
“Can’t you run any faster?” shouted Ilmarė, who had easily pulled ahead of them.
“Do YOU want to carry him?” Kham shouted back.
A veritable melee of spell and blade broke out. One Vorlerath demon was skewered on the end of a Knight of the Red Fist’s lance, while two Volerath’s sunk their teeth into the other Melatorn’s haunches. One of the Swords of Nier cut down a Sarishan priest; another priest retaliated by paralyzing a Sword.
They turned a corner, finally out of the eye of flying Melatorns. Kham dumped the legionnaire, who stood motionless, and tried to catch his breath.
A Sarishan priest rounded the corner a second later.
Kham had both pistols out, aimed at his head.
The priest put both hands up. “Be at peace, brothers! I only came to thank you for your timely assistance.”
“Kham,” said Sebastian. “He’s still got his Mark…”
“Right, right.” Kham slowly lowered his pistols. “Okay old man, what do you want?”
“I am Treterses, priest of our lord Sarish. It seems dat our attempt to be obsequious has failed. I fear ve may again need assistance before de day is out.”
“Yeah, I could use some answers too,” said Kham. “First, what are you doing with Quintus?”
“I’m sorry?” asked Treterses. “How do you mean?”
Kham patted the dazed legionnaire on the shoulder. “This guy: Quintus Aurelius Ignatius, Signifer of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun. He wasn’t always like this.”
Treterses blinked. “Ve found him vandering randomly through Nishanpur. Ve swept him up with de other Touched.”
“Touched?” asked Beldin.
“Dey are Touched by the gods. Dey are de vay dey are because deir souls could not bear revelation. In shock, dese souls migrated back to newborn bodies, and are trying to either understand, or forget. Though in some places, dey might be considered no better than slaves, or animals, here dey have a special status. Dey are ‘ritually pure’ beings. Many are cared for by deir families, and are tolerated vith great forbearance even by strangers as dey vander about.”
“I’ve heard of these people,” said Sebastian. “They are untouchable and casteless.” He was about to continue when he was overcome by a fit of coughs.
“Surely you must have noticed de castes of Canceri?” asked Treterses. “Dese folk are souls who have almost achieved paradise…How can ve not feel dem vorthy of respect? Yet dey cannot function here in de earthly realm. Dey are therefore considered freemen, and cannot be slaves, but yet dey cannot conduct business as freemen. Dey are unable to comprehend de necessities of earthly laws, and so are considered beyond dose laws. Most folk merely let dem live out deir lives simply, make sure dey do not hurt themselves, and try to leave dem alone to seek their peace vith the gods.”
“Yeah, well, I think Quintus only cares about one particular god,” said Kham. “What were you planning to do with him?”
“It is becoming increasingly dangerous for dem here,” snapped Treterses. “Can you not see a civil var is looming? Ve seek to send them to a community to de east of here, vhere dey will be velcomed. Dose who have families have agreed to let us do so.”
“I don’t think Quintus has family,” said Kham. “So I’m guessing you just decided for him.”
Treterses looked offended. “Dese folk are untouchable. It vould be dishonorable for us to harm dem. You can see for yourself dat ve have allowed no harm to befall dem. Ve seek only to avoid dem befalling random harm here in de future!”
Ilmarė peered at the legionnaire. “I don’t believe this is Quintus. He shouldn’t be in Nishanpur. He was on a farm…”
“You seem quite capable, certainly moreso den I,” said Treterses. “Escort your friend to the Corpse Gate. By de Vein Canal, dere is a warehouse, vith a gargoyle above the door. Dere ve are meeting with a group dat vill escort us out of de city. I myself must go back to de Temple of the Keeper of Mysteries and report. It vould be safer for de Touched, though, to be taken straight to de Gate and to wait dere…”
“And what of the other Touched?” asked Beldin.
“Dey are likely being taken to de Menagerie of the Red Fist. Ve haven’t seen dem holding anyone at deir temple here in de Quarter. Deir temple here isn’t dat large anyhow...”
“What would Nierites want with a bunch of morons?” asked Kham.
Sebastian finally stopped coughing. “They take them north, to Hunder…to be ritually sacrificed to Nier in their ‘sacred’ flame.”
Treterses nodded. “Dere is a movement among them, especially de Swords, to return to the old vays in de vake of recent events.”
“You mean after the Nierites lost the war against Milandir,” said Kham, thinking of Vlad.
“Yes. Vith the disappearance of deir leader Leonydas, and de great earthquake last winter, many rumors surround deir activities. Many of dem fear dey are forsaken by Nier, and seek to make amends by offering sacrifices in de old ways. Since de Touched are pure in spirit, deir souls vould be considered vorthy sacrifices…”
Kham rubbed his forehead. “Okay, okay. We’ll think about it. Go back to your temple or wherever it is you cultists go to.”
Treterses bid them farewell and disappeared into the winding alleyways of Nishanpur.
“If this is Quintus,” said Beldin, “You can’t seriously consider…”
“Of course not,” said Kham. “Quintus just needs to have his memory jogged, that’s all. Let’s get back to the Velvet Glove and clean him up. Then we can figure out what to do next. Isn’t that right Quintus?”
Quintus stared, glassy-eyed, into space.
“Sounds like a yes to me,” said Kham, answering his own question. He pushed the legionnaire ahead of him as they walked.
Ilmarė stood for a moment, hugging herself tightly as she watched them go. Then slowly, reluctantly, she followed after them.
Linear Mode
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