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!
What was once a garden was now nothing more than a collection of dead plants, old pots, and dust. A fountain depicting a face twisted in pain spilled brown fluid out of its mouth to dribble into the large basin beneath. Strangely, not all the plants in the room were dead, for a great heap of organic plant matter sat in the room’s center.
“Who is this Stefan person you mentioned anyway?” asked Beldin inspected the fountain.
“I don’t know,” said Kham. “It was a vision. And I was inside Sebastian’s head, which is a pretty scary place.”
“I bet,” said Vlad.
“And what name did the Countess use?”
“D’Amberville. Or, as she put it, D’Ambrose in ‘Hasturic,’ the Carcosan tongue.”
“Carcosan, probably,” said Vlad.
“That’s right! Stefan Ambrose…Ilmarė, Calactyte and I caught up with this strange character. He was looking for an invitation to a party in Carcosa.”
Beldin peered at the plant. “Guess he finally made it.”
“Don’t go near the plant,” said Kham. “It’s a trap.”
Beldin paused. “There’s a fine-looking mace buried beneath it. Let me just take a look…”
“Damn it Beldin!” shouted Kham. But it was too late.
Beldin got a hold of the mace just as a rotten branch slapped outwards to encircle the dwarf’s wrist.
A brief tug of war ensued as the dwarf, determined the retrieve his find, refused to release the mace. The pile of vegetation lurched and suddenly Beldin disappeared.
“Great.” Kham had his blades out. “Now what?”
Vlad blocked another whipping tendril with his shield. “Just don’t use any lightning on the thing…they love lightning.”
Kham hacked steadily at the vines and creepers that shot out from the rotting pile of vegetation, but for every tendril he cut down, two more took its place.
There was a terrific ripping noise, and then Beldin hacked his way free, axe in one hand, mace in the other.
“I hope that mace was worth it,” muttered Vlad.
“It’s cold iron. That’s pretty rare,” Beldin said appreciatively. He was soaked in the green and brown digestive juices of the bizarre plant.
“Yeah,” said Kham. “Real useful against a pile of weeds. Let’s go.”
A dozen white dust-covered children faced them. They had wicked curved knives in hand. Beyond them was a stairwell.
“Now we know the source of the laughter,” said Vlad.
“That’s our exit,” said Kham. “But we’re going to have to fight through them.”
The translucent children advanced.
Vlad switched to Vrosh’s spear. The tip crackled with electrical energy. “Here’s hoping I remembered the old snake’s tactics.” He spun the spear experimentally in one hand.
“Yeah, great.” Beldin sliced through one of the children with no effect at all. It laughed at him. “Just make sure it connects.”
Another child jumped into the air, lunging towards Vlad’s throat. He leaned backwards and it skewered itself on the spear. With an ear-piercing shriek, it disappeared in a flash of lightning.
“It works,” said Vlad grimly.
Kham was busy fending off cuts from all directions. His jacket showed several gashes where the ghostly children had hit home.
Vlad spun again, skewering one of the ghost children behind him. He brought the spear about and whipped it through one of the little beasts, passing the haft of Vrosh’s spear through the translucent child’s torso only to obliterate its companion behind it.
Finally, they were gone.
“Whatever happened in this house since Yolanda was here, it’s bad news,” said Kham. “Very bad news.”
“The Unspeakable One isn’t bad enough?” asked Vlad. But Kham was already down the steps.
The steps descended into a small cellar. Racks, shelves, old crates, boxes, and barrels filled the room. A puddle of water glistened briefly with blue light and then faded. Emerging from the shadows was a naked young man, fear painting his features.
“Emric?” Kham asked in disbelief.
Emric began sobbing. “You’ve got to take me with you!”
“Careful,” said Beldin impassively. “It could be a trap.”
“I’ll take him outside to the Sea Lord’s Guard,” said Vlad. “He’ll be safer there.”
“No!” shouted Emric. He was shivering. “I’m safer here with you!”
Kham took off his jacket and put it around the boy’s shoulders. “What happened?”
“Quelch. Elijah Quelch.”
“We killed him,” Vlad said resolutely. “We saw him fall into the canal.”
Emric just stared at Vlad. “It wasn’t enough.”
“What did he want with you?” asked Beldin.
“He’s kidnapping children…creating a portal to the Unspeakable One’s world. He plans to gate in hundreds of k’n-yan and plunge Freeport into Carcosa, as Lucius Roby did.”
Kham looked sideways at Emric. “How did you know that?”
Emric lifted his chin, defiant. “I’m supposed to be Sea Lord one day myself, remember? Uncle Thralen keeps both ears to the ground.”
“Arrogant, confident, and not wearing a lick of clothing…” Kham shrugged. “You must be Emric.”
“I don’t like this.” Beldin tightened his grip on his axe. “It’s too convenient.”
Emric pushed on one wall and a secret door spun on a central axis. “I can lead you to Quelch! We’ve got to stop him!”
Four braziers that flickered with blue flames lit the profane room. On each wall was a large tapestry. The most startling thing in the room was a huge yellow sign chiseled into the stone itself. The channel was stained brown from old blood.
“Great,” said Beldin. “A summoning room.”
One tapestry depicted a foul infant clawing its way out of the belly of some grotesque being. Another showed naked but masked cultists tearing out the throats of their bound male prisoners. The last tapestry depicted a flaming ring surrounded by strange glyphs and sigils.
“Through here!” Emric ran through the tapestry on the far wall, crossing the symbol on the floor.
“No, wait…” was all Kham got out.
A titanic beast appeared in a flash. It was encased in a skeletal structure, perhaps dead, perhaps merely too foreign for normal minds to understand. Its had dragon-like proportions, with two clawed hind limbs, a spiked tail, skeletal wings for arms, and a hollow ribcage topped by a horned head. Atop its back was a k’n-yan.
“You take out the mount,” said Kham. “I’ve got the rider.”
The beast hissed and its head darted forward, only to be slapped down by Vlad’s sword. Beldin struck its hind leg, and it reared backwards, flapping its wings.
Kham drew his two pistols and fired. The k’n-yan’s head snapped backwards, but it was encased in a strange exoskeleton that protected it from harm.
Vlad kept the mount’s head busy, blocking its strikes with his shield and returning the favor each time it came close. Beldin circled around…
Suddenly the tail whipped downwards, the spike at the end embedding deeply into Beldin’s shoulder. He roared and hacked downwards, snapping the end of the tail off.
“Poison a dwarf, will you?” snarled Beldin.
Vlad pressed the advantage as the serpent-like thing howled. Whatever it was, it could feel pain. He cut one of its legs out from under it and the creature stumbled.
The k’n-yan pointed at Vlad and lightning arced between its fingertip and the Milandisian. He was thrown backwards from the blast.
Then the Beldin fell upon the mount in fury. Kham dispatched the rider with a double strike from Talon and Coomb’s dagger.
Emric peeked his head back into the room. “What’s taking you guys so long?”
They reached a pentagonal room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were uniform black stone. In the center of each wall was a red door, although they had no handles, keyholes, or any obvious means of opening them. In the middle of the room stood a pedestal, capped with a metal plate bearing five studs.
“This is the device Yolanda created to enter the portal,” said Kham. “See each of these studs? They’re dials. There are twenty-six letters in the Hasturic alphabet. She used them to spell out key words. The right combination of key words opens the portal. You have to turn each of the dials, and the last dial you turn, if it’s in the correct sequence, opens the portal.”
“Great,” said Vlad. “I’m ready.”
Kham shook his head. “Not so simple. You have to do it one at a time. It won’t let more than one person teleport in; a safeguard of Yolanda’s.”
“Fat lot of good it did,” muttered Beldin. The dwarf had recovered from the poison with just a few minutes of rest. His companions were continually amazed by his constitution. “If Quelch is corrupting it now, it wasn’t too hard to guess.”
“No, it’s not,” Kham said grimly. “We just have to spell: enter."
“What if we turn the dial to the wrong numbers?” asked Vlad.
“You don’t want to know.”
Beldin stepped up to the pedestal. “I’ll go first. What do we have to turn the numbers to?”
“Five, fourteen, twenty, five, and eighteen,” said Kham.
Beldin clicked each dial over. When he finished the last one, Beldin disappeared.
“Quickly now.” Kham hurried Vlad, who carefully turned the dials. He flashed and disappeared.
“Okay, Emric, you go next.” Kham turned all the dials but one. “I don’t want to leave you here.”
Emric smiled a wicked smile. Suddenly, Kham realized what an idiotic idea it was to bring him along in the first place, as if a veil had been lifted from his mind. Emric’s form shimmered, replaced by the exoskeleton form of a k’n-yan.
The k’n-yan reached out to turn the last dial to the wrong number. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” it said.
Vlad appeared within a hermetic circle inside a large cave, polluted by the stench of death. Ahead was a dark figure clad in whipping yellow robes, outlined by the light of a white disk of pulsing energy projected by a small metal box on the floor. Inside the field was a k’n-yan army, all fighting to break through. Dozens of bodies lay all around, blood still pumping form their slashed throats. They were grievously wounded, but a few groans suggested they were not all dead.
Beldin was already advancing. Two byakhee barred his path.
“Quelch!” snarled Vlad. “It’s over!”
Elijah Quelch was a big, fat man with long black hair and a full beard. His age was difficult to guess.
“I don’t think so,” snarled Quelch. He pointed at Vlad, muttering something in Hasturic. Vlad’s legs went rigid. It was the same spell that had paralyzed him last time.
“Try that on me!” bellowed Beldin. He batted aside one of the byakhee, accustomed to fighting them. The creature leap frogged over him so that the dwarf was besieged by the creatures from both sides.
“As for you…” Quelch pointed at Beldin and a sizzling ray of black energy sliced into him. The dwarf writhed in pain.
One of the byakhee landed on top of Beldin, pinning him to the ground.
“No!” Vlad struggled against the magic that held him. “I won’t…let you!” He drew his crossbow and fired.
The bolt bounced off of Quelch’s chest. He grinned. “There’s no canal to save you this time.”
One of the byakhee screeched in agony as Beldin hacked off its wing. It rolled off of the dwarf warrior, who struggled to his feet.
Through sheer force of will alone, Vlad willed his feet to move. He took one slow, shuddering step towards Quelch.
Beldin brought his axe down on the second byakhee’s neck, beheading it. He turned to face Quelch…
Only to be hoisted into the area by a forest of writhing yellow tentacles.
Vlad cursed. It was happening again, just like last time. Where was Kham?
He took another step. Quelch was ignoring him.
The cultist chanted something blasphemous and Beldin, helpless in the tentacles, went rigid. As he started the spell, the air seemed to come alive. The chant was a shrill, inhuman scream and came from all around.
Vlad had seen the spell before. It would drain the energy right out of the dwarf, turning him into a withered husk that would crumble into powder. Quelch used the spell to feast on vagrants in Freeport. It was only due to Beldin’s incredible durability that he survived at all.
Quelch seemed to grow stronger and stronger as each second passed. And as each second passed, Vlad took one more step.
“Why won’t you die?” shouted Quelch in frustration at Beldin. The dwarf’s eyes and mouth trailed smoke, but still he writhed in pain in the tentacles.
“You first!” shouted Vlad. He thrust Grungronazharr through Quelch’s ribcage.
The spell ended with a choked gurgle. The tentacles receded. Beldin fell to the ground.
Quelch turned to face his assailant. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Then he collapsed, dead.
A second later, Kham appeared. His hair was mussed and his armor scorched.
“What happened to you?” asked Vlad.
“Emric wasn’t Emric. Let’s just leave it at that. You?”
“Quelch is dead.” Vlad checked Beldin’s wounds. He would live. “Beldin is barely alive.” He nodded at the other sacrifices. “And they’re all dead.”
The portal continued to pulse behind them.
“So do we just jump in it?”
Kham shook his head. “I’m the key, remember? I’m the only one who can reverse it.”
Vlad helped Beldin to his feet. Kham walked past them to the portal.
Kham took out Coomb’s knife and, palm up, slashed his open hand. He dripped the blood in a rough pattern of the Yellow Sign.
The gate was activated. A high keening came through the portal, loud and constant, and as it sounded the white light became blue.
“Now we can enter Carcosa.” He turned back to look at his companions. “If you don’t want to do this, I understand. I don’t know if Sebastian’s even alive. Or what Carcosa looks like once we’re through.”
Beldin winced. The healing potions could only do so much. “I haven’t come this far only to stop now,” he said.
“Me neither,” said Vlad. “Sebastian sacrificed himself to save us. We owe him one.”
Kham nodded. “This time, I’m going through FIRST.” And with that he jumped through the portal.
This scenario is adapted from Dungeon Module X2, “Castle Amber” by Tom Moldavy. It was adapted for 3.0 rules by Ronald G. Hopkins. I in turn updated it to 3.5 (and tweaked it considerably) for 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/dwarven defender) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
When I realized that one of the PCs would have to sacrifice himself at the end of Tatters of the King, I knew there had to be a way to get him back. The problem is that Carcosa is such a screwy place, few adventures could do it justice. So I searched and searched, and I kept coming back to an adventure that had a direct connection to the Cthulhu Mythos: Castle Amber.
Castle Amber has it all. A horrible tragedy happens in the throne room, trapping everyone in the castle and making them insane? Check. An opportunity to set things right through heroic quests in a strange land? Check. Lots of bizarre monsters, ridiculous traps, and magic items that you’d only find in an old school adventure? Check.
Because Moldavy got permission to add in snippets of Clark Ashton Smith’s stories, there are Cthulhu-esque elements throughout the adventure, scenes I completely missed when I DMed this adventure over twenty years ago. With Sebastian wearing the Pallid Mask and by switching Averogine to Carcosa, I now had my Stranger in a Strange Land.
This adventure is mostly a long slog of relentless battles. I got to play with miniatures and monsters I never normally would use because they simply don’t make sense in most adventures. But here, in Carcosa, everything makes sense and nothing does.
Much to my dismay, I discovered that the original author, Tom Moldavy, passed away the same month we played this adventure. So this story can be seen as our tribute to his work. Tom drew on many sources for this adventure, and I return to those roots in this story hour. You will see references to the fairy tale of the Billy Goat’s Gruff, the poem of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and the works of Clark Ashton Smith: The Colossus of Ylourgne, The Enchantress of Sylaire, The Beast of Averoigne, and the Holiness of Azedarac. The flashbacks of the play combine Thom Ryng’s King in Yellow with James Blish’s version.
In the end, everything that was done is undone, and a major chapter of the dreaded play comes to a close.
Sebastian was in a crowded ballroom, with a balcony at its back. All the Hasturites were present; they all wore white masks with the visage of the Stranger, to which individual taste added grotesque variations. The result was that each mask looked like a famous person. The costumes were also various and fantastic. Sebastian still wore the silken robe with the Yellow Sign, and Cassilda, though masked, still wore the diadem, as did the child prince. Many were dancing to a formal measure, something like a sarabande, something like stalking.
Cassilda watched the masque from the balcony, Carcosa and the Hyades behind her. The moon had vanished.
“There, Princess,” said Sebastian. “You see that there has been no sending, and there will be none. The Pallid Mask is the perfect disguise.”
“How would we know a sending if it came?” asked Camilla in her singsong voice.
Cassilda descended from the balcony and joined them.
“The messenger of the King drives a hearse,” replied Sebastian.
“Oho,” interrupted Cassilda. “Half the population of Hastur does that. It is the city’s most popular occupation, since the siege began. All that is talk.”
“I have heard what the Talkers were talking—the talk of the beginning and the end,” said Sebastian. “But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.”
“But—the sending?” asked Camilla. “Let us hear.”
“Also, the messenger of the King is a soft man,” said Sebastian. “Should you greet him by the hand, one of his fingers would come off to join yours.”
Camilla recoiled in delicate disgust. Noatalba, who had been circling closer and closer to the group, finally joined it.
“A pretty story,” said Naotalba. “You seem to know everything. I think perhaps you could even tell us, given gold, the mystery of the Hyades.”
“He is King there,” replied Sebastian.
“As everywhere,” said Naotalba curtly. “Everyone knows that.”
“He is not King in Arcanis,” said Sebastian. “That is why Carcosa was built. It is a city in exile. These two mighty stars are deep in war, like Hastur and Alar.”
“Oh, indeed. Who then lives in Carcosa?”
“Nothing human,” said Sebastian. “More than that, I cannot tell you.”
“Your springs of invention run dry with suspicious quickness,” said Naotalba.
“Be silent!” snapped Cassilda. “Stranger, how did you come by all this?”
“My sigil is Aldebaran,” said Sebastian. “I hate the King.”
“And his is the Yellow Sign,” said Naotalba, “which you mock him by flaunting before the world. I tell you this: he will not be mocked. He is a King whom Emperors have served; and that is why he scorns a crown. All this is in the runes.”
“There are great truths in the runes,” replied Sebastian. “Nevertheless, my priest, Aldebaran is his evil star. Thence comes the Pallid Mask.”
“Belike, belike. But I would rather be deep in the cloudy depths of the Dehme than to wear what you wear on your bosom. When the King opens his mantle—“
Somewhere in the palace, a deep-toned gong began to strike.
“Now is the time I never thought to see,” said Cassilda to herself. “I must go, and announce the Succession of Aldones once more to the throne. Perhaps … perhaps the world itself is indeed about to begin again. How strange!”
As the gong continued to strike, everyone began to unmask. There were murmurs and gestures of surprise, real or polite, as identities were recognized and revealed. Then there was a wave of laughter. The music became louder and increased in tempo.
“You, sir, should unmask,” said Camilla.
“Indeed?” asked Sebastian.
“Indeed, it’s time,” said Camilla. “We have all laid aside disguise but you.”
“I wear no mask,” said Sebastian.
“No mask?” asked Camilla. Panic was in her voice. She turned to Cassilda. “No mask!”
“I am the Pallid Mask itself. I, I, I am the Phantom of Truth. I came from Arcanis. My star is Aldebaran. Truth is our invention; it is our weapon of war. And see—by this sign we have conquered, and the siege of good and evil is ended…”
On the horizon, the towers of Carcosa began to glow.
Noatalba pointed. “Look, look! Carcosa—Carcosa is on fire!”
Sebastian laughed and seized Camilla by the wrists.
“His hands!” shrieked Camilla in agony. “His HANDS!”
At her cry the music died discordantly. Then a tremendous, inhuman voice rolled from Carcosa across the Lake of Hali.
“Yhtill!” said the King in Yellow. “Yhtill! Yhtill!”
Sebastian released Camilla, who screamed wordlessly and fell.
The King in Yellow appeared, although only faintly. He stood in state upon the balcony. He had no face, and was twice as tall as a man. He wore pointed shoes under his tattered, fantastically colored robes, and a stream of silk appeared to fall from the pointed tip of his hood. Behind his back he held inverted a torch with a turned and jeweled shaft, which emitted smoke, but not light. At times he appeared to be winged; at others, haloed.
“Have you found the Yellow Sign?” asked the King in Yellow. “Have you found the Yellow Sign? Have you found the Yellow Sign?”
“I am the Phantom of Truth!” shouted Sebastian. “Tremble, O King in tatters!”
“The Phantom of Truth shall be laid,” said the King in Yellow. “The scalloped tatters of the King must hide Yhtill forever. As for thee, Hastur—“
“No!” shouted the crowd. “No, no!”
“And as for thee, we tell thee this,” said the King. “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living god.”
Sebastian fell, and everyone else sank slowly to the ground after him.
They appeared in the foyer of an ornate mansion. A freshly swept carpet graced the floor. The walls were decorated with bright, colorful tapestries. Brass candelabras lined the entranceway. They showed signs of having been recently polished and were filled with candles.
“Carcosa Castle,” said Kham. “We’re here.”
Beldin pointed outside. “Is that in the play?”
More frightening than the sudden change from the cave to the castle was the smoky gray mist that surrounded the castle at a distance of thirty feet, blocking all sight beyond. No sound penetrated the mist.
Kham had read the play over and over. “There’s mention of mists. But I didn’t think they were literally mists. More of an allegory for confusion or something.”
The mist advanced on the mansion even as Vlad watched. “Let’s not find out if it’s just an allegory.”
The double doors to the interior swung open into the main hallway by themselves.
They entered a wide, long hallway running east to west. In the center of the hall was a ten-foot wide red carpet stretching from the west door to the east door. The ceiling arched twenty feet high overhead. Near the east end of the hall, a raised catwalk stretched across the hallway ten feet above their heads. At either end of the overpass were double doors.
Thousands of tiny square mirrors were set into the ceiling and walls. The resulting reflection of their torches resembled a swarm of fireflies as myriad pinpoints of light were reflected back. The floor of the hall, where it wasn’t covered with the red carpet, was polished white marble. The marble was so shiny they could see their reflections on its surface. Polished brass candelabra lined both walls and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. All the candleholders on the candelabra and chandeliers were filled with unlit candles.
“Stay alert,” said Kham. “This is Carcosa, and it can change at any time. I brought black paint along just in case we need to mark our trail.” Kham had a bottle of the inky stuff that he trailed along behind him.
“Did it ever occur to you that you’re giving anything hostile a trail to follow us?” asked Vlad.
Kham shrugged. “Anything that wants to find us in this place will, trust me.”
All the hallway doors suddenly swung open and then slammed shut. The resulting draft extinguished the lights.
“Not a problem.” Kham rapped Daemonscar, the breastplate he wore underneath his overcoat. “I can see just fine.”
“Me too,” said Beldin. “A little bit like home, actually.”
Vlad cleared his throat. “While I’m perfectly capable of fighting blind, I can’t see in the dark like you two.” There was the sound of Vlad fumbling in his pack.
“Vlad!” shouted Kham. “Don’t—“
Vlad’s tindertwig flared to life.
All the candles in the hall magically lit at the same time with a brilliant flash. The light was reflected off the walls, ceiling and floor and off the highly polished chandeliers and candelabra.
“Damn it Vlad!” shouted Beldin.
The flash blinded them all. All they could see was white.
“Well,” Vlad said after a moment, “this is pretty much the same situation we were in before.”
“Skiz!” Kham yanked the talking rat, who had been sleeping, out of his haversack. “You’re on watch.”
“Huh? Whatcha mean boss?”
“I mean we’re all blind. Haven’t you been listening in there?”
“Uh, no?”
“What do you do in there all day, anyway?”
“Do you really want to know, boss?”
“Never mind.” Kham sighed. “I’m going to keep walking forward until you say otherwise, okay?”
“Uh, you may not want to do that boss.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s some dead bodies in the way.”
“Dead bodies?” asked Kham.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t remember seeing dead bodies,” said Beldin.
“Can we step over them?”
“If they lay down, probably,” reported Skiz.
“You mean they’re standing up?” Kham’s voice cracked.
“All around us now, yeah.”
“Run for it!”
Vlad and Beldin swung outwards with their weapons. Kham just ran, jostling aside something hard to one side that rattled as it moved. There was no gasping or breathing or even moaning. Whatever Skiz saw, it was utterly silent.
Kham turned his head to listen behind him. “I’m just going to keep running until you tell me to—“
“STOP!”
Then Kham slammed into double doors at the far end of the hallway.
They had managed to close the door behind them. Whatever things were stalking them in the hallway before were not willing to venture beyond.
“Not quite,” said Beldin. Vlad and Beldin’s vision had cleared faster than Kham’s. “We seem to be in some sort of indoor forest. It’s a huge octagon-shaped building with seven domes.”
“That’s interesting.” Kham rolled over, enjoying the feel of sunlight on his skin. “Let’s just wait here until my vision comes back.”
“IF it comes back,” said Vlad.
Kham ignored him. “Describe it to me.”
Beldin looked up. “The domes are nearly a hundred feet high. Looks like they’re made of thick panes of clear glass that let sunlight filter into the garden forest. Lots of trees, plants, grasses, and bushes.”
“I can hear water,” said Kham.
“Yep, a stream,” said Vlad. “There’s a path too.”
They lay there for a long moment in silence.
“Uh, boss?”
“Yeah, Skiz?”
“I couldn’t help but notice that we seem to be moving closer to the trees.”
Kham sat up. “What?”
“Well, I decided to take a look around since you said I’m not paying enough attention. And the trees I saw before are a lot closer. So we’re either moving closer to the trees…”
“Or they’re moving closer to us.” Kham hopped to his feet. “Which way does the path go Skiz?”
“To your right.”
“Run!”
Kham took off at a run, stumbling his way through the haze. His vision was coming back but not well enough for him to make out much more than patterns. Vlad and Beldin were strangely silent.
Kham stopped running. “What happened to Vlad and Beldin?”
“The big guy and the dwarf? Oh, the trees just are trying to eat them.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, the dwarf is putting up a fight. Oooh, he made the tree mad. Looks like he might get away…nope. Just ate him.”
Kham felt a shadow pass over him.
“What the hell was that?”
Skiz swallowed hard. “I think it was some kind of demon.”
Kham dared to hope. He felt a blast of heat and then an explosion reached his ears.
“Looks like it’s helping the other two. Wow, the tree just puked up Beldin.”
There was the sound of beating wings. A figure landed, depositing the dwarf and Milandisian in front of Kham.
“Sebastian!” Kham rubbed his eyes. “Is that you?”
“It is I, I who am I.” Sebastian’s voice was muffled.
Kham blinked, finally able to see. “Why are you wearing that mask?”
“So, I don’t suppose you know how to get out of here?” asked Kham.
Sebastian, wearing a featureless pallid mask, shook his head. “He flees where queen and prophet meet, where twin suns fall but never set, escapes the tomb of lost Carcosa…”
“You know if you didn’t have the same bat wings and fireballs I wouldn’t be sure it was you under that mask. But it is you, right?”
Sebastian nodded.
“Now what?” grumbled Beldin. He was still grumpy about being eaten by a tree.
“We follow the path, of course!” Kham grinned.
They came to a ten-foot wide wooden bridge that spanned a meandering stream. The path continued across the bridge. On the side of the bridge closest to them was a humanoid with the head and horns of a billy goat.
"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared a voice beneath the bridge.
"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, with such a small voice.
"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up," said the thing beneath the bridge.
"Oh, no! Pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am," said the billy goat. "Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Vlad.
A deep gruff voice from beneath the bridge answered, “Well, be off with you," said the troll.
The billygoat exited across the bridge.
“This place is ridiculous,” said Kham. “Let’s just cross the bridge.”
Beldin gripped his axe. “It’s a troll.”
“I know it’s a troll,” said Kham. “That doesn’t mean we have to fight it.”
“I’m not going to be bullied by a troll,” said the dwarf. He approached the bridge.
“We could just run right past it. We don’t even know if it’s really a troll. Probably a—“
“Gremlins,” said Sebastian. “They’re everywhere.”
Kham looked at him sideways. “Sure. Gremlins. Maybe it’s gremlins.”
"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the troll.
“It is I, Beldin Soulforge!” said the dwarf, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.
Kham slapped his forehead.
"Now I 'm coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.
“Well, come along!” shouted Beldin down at the bridge.
The troll wasn’t hiding under the bridge. Its body unfurled, bent over as it was beneath the bridge. It was huge and monstrously ugly, with teeth the size of Beldin’s body.
“I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears!” shouted the dwarf. Beldin rolled as a huge claw came down, missing him. He hacked downwards with his axe when he came back up, severing the troll’s hand.
The troll howled.
“I'll crush you to bits, body and bones!” shouted Beldin. The troll hunched over him, maw opened wide. Beldin charged right into the thing’s torso. He knocked it sideways.
Before it could react, a gout of flame consumed it from behind. Sebastian landed on the other side of the bridge, dusting his hands.
Vlad peered over the edge of the bridge. The boiling stream washed the twitching remains of the troll away. “What just happened?”
“It’s a dwarf, troll, bridge thing,” said Kham. “Try not to think about it.”
In the center of the indoor forest was a circular pool of water. A stream that wandered through the forest fed the pool.
“Beldin,” Kham warned the dwarf, “I don’t care how tempting that chest looks, don’t touch it.”
In the middle of the pool was a fountain shaped like three interlinked gargoyles. The gargoyles sprayed water from their mouths. Embedded at the base of the trio of statues was the lid of a padlocked metal chest.
“It could be important,” said Beldin. “We should open it just to be sure.”
“It’s a trap,” said Kham. “How could it not be a trap? Everything in this place is a trap.”
“Fine.” Beldin crossed his arms. “But I think it’s a mistake.”
“Hey boss!” shouted Skiz, wiggling through the keyhole to the chest. “There’s a silver key in here!”
Kham double-checked his haversack. His pet rat had run over to the fountain during their argument. “Damn it Skiz! Get out of there!”
“But there’s a shiny key in here!”
Slowly, the water rose up to reveal a dripping gray mass of animated slime. It loomed over the chest.
“Skiz,” Kham said slowly. “I want you to listen to me carefully. Back out of the chest. Right now.”
Skiz popped his head out. “What’s that boss?” The rat looked up and froze. Like a wave in slow motion, the slime curled over the chest.
Suddenly, the chest spiraled outwards on a column of water and landed at Beldin’s feet. The dwarf had one hand out, concentrating.
Thwarted, the ooze returned to its eternal slumber in the fountain. Skiz hopped up Kham’s leg and ducked back into the haversack without another word.
Vlad smashed the padlock open. Sure enough, inside was a silver key.
“Remind me to thank Cho Sun for dying,” said Kham.
Kham nodded. “They’re ibixians. Wilfred Gresty and his cult were using them as sacrifices to summon Tizzhet.”
“Didn’t he mention he had brothers?” said Beldin.
Suddenly, a hill to their left burst open and several ibixians riding byakhee flew out of it.
“Get down!” shouted Vlad.
The byakhee swooped overhead, claws clicking as they flew by. The byakhee wheeled about.
“They’re coming for another pass!”
Sebastian rose up, wings spread wide. He muttered a muffled incantation. A ball of flame engulfed the byakhee. In the distance, all of the goat men fell from their mounts, landing on their feet as the byakhee hit the ground.
The leader had the head of a large black goat and his body was covered with black, shaggy hair. His eyes glowed red, and though he had hands, instead of human feet he had goat hooves. The goat man had two blades out, advancing menacingly on Kham.
“I’m going to shoot you in the eyes,” Kham said calmly. He drew two pistols and took careful aim.
Undeterred, the goat man continued to advance.
Both pistols kicked in Kham’s hands. The blasts echoed throughout the indoor forest. Startled birds flew from a flock of trees.
And when the smoke cleared, the ibixian lay on the ground with two smoking craters where its eyes used to be.
The walls of the throne room were covered with mosaics depicting courtly scenes. The floor was polished marble. Two thrones sit atop a raised dais. At the east end of the room a red velvet carpet ran from the double doors to the thrones.
“Now this I recognize,” said Kham.
A skeletal figure sat on one of thrones. The skeletons were dressed in rotting velvet. One held a jeweled mace. Twenty more skeletons stood on guard, ten each along the north and south walls.
“I don’t remember skeletons in the play,” said Beldin.
The guards wore rusted armor and carried halberds with rusted blades. Another dozen skeletons, wearing decayed court dress, stood in front of the thrones. The skeletons’ bones were fused by the devastation so that they stood in rigid poses, a courtier bowing, a lady leaning sideways to gossip, and so on.
“You’re right,” said Kham. “This is after the fact.” He looked at Sebastian. “And let me guess. You’re the Stranger, right?”
Sebastian took to the air, huge bat wings flapping. There was a shimmering translucent aura about him.
Kham squinted. It had a vaguely feminine shape. He suddenly understood what Sebastian was trying to tell him: where Queen and Prophet meet. Literally. It was…
”Cassilda!” shouted Kham. “Let him go!”
There was a muffled incantation from behind Sebastian’s mask. Vlad spun and held Grungronazharr before him just as the ball of flames hit.
The blast was dispersed by Vlad’s blade.
“Don’t hurt him!” shouted Kham. “He’s possessed!”
“Now you tell us,” said Beldin. The dwarf had taken the brunt of the blast on his shield, but his beard was still smoking.
Sebastian began to trace another spell.
“I’ve got him!” Vlad drew something from his belt pouch and threw it. It struck Sebastian in the chest, expanding into glob of sticky goo. Sebastian’s wings were stuck to his back. He fell twenty feet to the ground. “Now Kham!”
Kham gathered his mental energy. He had learned the power to focus his mind, oddly enough, when the King in Yellow had first contacted him in the arena in Vestalanium. Now he was using it to defeat Carcosa’s queen.
They engaged in a struggle of wills over Sebastian’s body. And for a brief eternity, Kham understood what happened in the throne room.
“I have enfolded Yhtill,” said the King in Yellow, “and the Phantom of Truth is laid.” He spoke more quietly. “Henceforth, the ancient lies will rule as always…” The King turned to Cassilda. “Now. Cassilda!”
Cassilda rose mutely to her knees.
“Thou wert promised a Dynasty by Truth, and in truth shalt thou have a dynasty,” said the King. “The Kingdom of Hastur was first in all the world, and would have ruled the world, except for this: Carcosa did not want it. Hence, thereafter, Hastur and Arcanis divided; but those in Arcanis sent you from Aldebaran the Phantom of Truth and all was lost; together, you forgot the Covenant of the Sign. Now there is much which needs to be undone.”
“How, King?” Naotabla asked faintly. “How?
“Henceforth, Hastur and Arcanis will be divided forever. Forever shalt thou contend for mastery, and strive in bitter blood to claim which shall be uppermost: flesh or phantom, black or white. In due course of starwheels, this strife will come to issue; but not now; oh, no, not now.”
“And—until then?” whispered Cassilda.
“Until then, Carcosa will vanish; but my rule, I tell you now, is permanent, despite Aldebaran. Be warned. Also be promised: He who triumphs in this war shall be my—can I be honest?—inheritor, and so shall have the Dynasty back. But think: Already you own the world. The great query is: Can you rule it? The query is the gift. The King in Yellow gives it in your hands, to hold … or to let loose. Choose, terrible children.”
“You are King, and are most gracious,” said Naotalba faintly. “We thank you.”
“YOU thank ME?” The King drew himself up, indignant. “I am the living god! Bethink thyself, priest. There is a price, I have not as yet stated the half of it.”
Everyone waited, petrified.
“The price is: The fixing of the Mask.”
Silence.
“You do not understand me,” said the King. “I will explain it once and then no more. Hastur, you acceded to, and wore, the Pallid Mask. That is the price. Henceforth, all in Hastur shall wear the Mask, and by this sign be known. And war between the masked men and the naked shall be perpetual and bloody, until I come again … or fail to come.”
Noatalba started to his knees. “Unfair, unfair! It was Arcanis invented the Pallid Mask! Aldones—“
“Why should I be fair? I am the living god. As for Aldones, he is the father of you all. That is the price: the fixing of the mask.”
“Not upon us, oh King!” Camilla wept bitterly. “Not upon us!
“Yhtill! Yhtill! Yhtill!” shouted the King.
The Hyades and Carcosa were once more visible over the balcony rail. The mass of corruption that had been the Stranger rose slowly and uncertainly. A child ran out from the crowd, and seized the Stranger by one mushy hand, leading him shambling out across the balcony. There was a low, composite moan as they left.
“Not upon us!” Cassilda stood and threw her arms wide. “Not upon us!”
“What?!” asked the King. “Do you think to be human still?”
“Now we shall…” began Naotalba.
The King suddenly pointed at him. “You desired the commencement of a new age; I say unto you that I am the new age. My reign has begun, but what need have I for priests when the eternal dead may serve me? Where has your irrationality and certitude brought you? Begone!”
The King spread his arms for but a moment. Naotalba screamed and dusty rose from his body, leaving his skeleton in mid-gesture.
The King turned to Cassilda. “You desired survival; I say unto you only that you have survived.”
“I have survived all of my children,” Cassilda said bitterly.
“Was that not your desire? To survive? Or did I misunderstand?”
“But not like this! You’ve taken my children…”
“Not I,” interrupted the King. “See where your conciliation and indifference have brought you?”
“…but I shall not surrender,” Cassilda said defiantly. “I shall never surrender. Aldones may still live. He shall be the last king.”
“Aldones was the FIRST king. I am the Last King.”
“I shall not abdicate.”
“You already have.”
A pause.
“Have you conquered Hastur then?” asked Cassilda in a small voice.
“I AM Hastur. I have reclaimed Hastur from its human infestation. The parasites who continue to live here do so at my sufferance.”
“Is there nothing else?”
“How can you deny it?”
Cassilda was frantic. “But surely Carcosa is your city, not Hastur.”
“But now, this IS Carcosa, for the doom of Carcosa is visited upon you all.” The King spread his arms wide.
“Not upon us, oh King!” shrieked Cassilda. “Not upon us!”
Kham rose to his feet. The effort to blast Camilla from Sebastian’s body had nearly collapsed him. “It’s a scary place inside your head.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” came the muffled reply. “Are you sure you still want to see this room? It holds a fated deck of cards. When I turned the card, it did…not go well.”
Beldin pushed open the door. “I want to see what fate will deal me.”
Vlad agreed and entered behind him.
Kham shrugged. “I’m done with games of chance, especially in this place.”
The walls of the room were wood paneled and a plush carpet covered the floor. A number of card tables and wooden chairs were scattered around the room. Sitting behind a table in the middle of the room was a matronly woman dressed like a gypsy. On the table in front of her were ten cards, face down. The cards were arranged in two rows of five cards each.
As soon as the door opened, the woman said, “Welcome, come in, come in. The cards know all. The cards see all. Make yourselves comfortable. Who’ll be the first to choose a card? Pick a card, any card.”
Beldin sat down in front of the woman. He jutted his lower lip out while he considered which card to pick. Then he drew one and looked at it.
“The Queen of Cups,” said the woman.
A queenly figure stood holding a cup her right hand, a scepter in her left. As Beldin stared at the card, a goblet appeared on the table.
“This magic cup will grow warm when someone tells its holder a lie,” said the woman.
“That’ll come in handy,” said Beldin. He took the goblet.
Vlad eagerly replaced Beldin at the table. It didn’t take long for him to choose…he was staring over Beldin’s shoulder when the dwarf was picking his card. Vlad drew his own card.
“The Juggler,” said the woman.
A man in a wide-brimmed hat stood in front of various objects placed at random on a table. The man pointed a wand in his right hand toward the sky while pointing with his left hand toward the ground.
A small ring appeared on the table.
Vlad looked down at it. “That’s it? Just a ring?”
“That is no ordinary ring. It stores spells. Use it wisely.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to pick a card?” Vlad turned to Kham as he put the ring on. “We seem to be having some good luck.”
Kham refused to enter the room. “You forgot how I got Fleshripper? You’d better hope that ring doesn’t turn out to be cursed.”
When Vlad turned back to address the woman, she and her cards were gone.
The walls and ceiling of the room they entered were painted blue. The floor was covered with an azure colored carpet. The incense of cedar, saffron, and ambergris filled the room. Miscellaneous furniture, all dyed blue, was scattered about the room.
“I’m sensing a pattern here,” said Kham.
A hulking blue humanoid, trailing cold mist from its jagged maw, advanced on them.
“What the hell is that?” asked Vlad.
“I don’t know, but it’s going to be sorry it tangled with us,” said Beldin.
The room was freezing. The creature reared back and took a deep breath.
“Behind me!” shouted Beldin.
Sebastian and Vlad ducked behind Beldin. A blast of icy cold air covered much of the furniture with rime.
“Ha!” Beldin charged forward as Vlad looped around the creature’s right side. “This shield is made of ignium!” He hacked at the beast and chips of ice flew from it. “Forged it myself!”
“I think this is some form of elemental,” said Sebastian. Vlad struck it from the opposite side.
Enraged, the elemental turned and unleashed another blast of frost, trailing Vlad as he dove over a blue chair.
Sebastian pointed and searing rays danced from his fingertips, singing the thing. Pirouettes of steam trailed from its wounds.
Beldin blocked a rake of the elemental’s claws and retaliated with Windcutter, chipping deeply into the beast’s shoulder. It hissed in the dwarf’s face, freezing pieces of his beard.
Vlad came back around and struck at its head while Beldin struck low. The creature suddenly froze in place. Blue light leaked out from a spider web of cracks that latticed the elemental’s form.
“Uh…is it supposed to do that?”
“Get behind me!” shouted Beldin.
They hunkered down behind the shield. Ice exploded outwards, splintering wood and skewering the walls with deadly icicles.
Kham skidded into yet another colored room, this one painted green. An emerald-colored carpet covered the floor. The scent of sandlewood, roses and musk filled the room.
A giant man stood in the center of the room. His body was brawny as any can be, so bull-necked, big-thighed, bulky and square, so long-legged, large-limbed, looming so tall. Kham wasn’t sure if he was half-troll or merely as large as living man could be -- a handsome one too
“Don’t tell me,” said Kham. “This is the green room.”
The giant was dressed in green from head to toe: a tunic worn tight, tucked to his ribs; and a rich cloak cast over it, covered inside with a fine fur lining, fitted and sewn with ermine trim that stood out in contrast from his hair where his hood lay folded flat; and handsome hose of the same green hue which clung to his calves, with clustered spurs of bright gold; beneath them striped embroidered silk above his bare shanks. His clothes were all kindled with a clear light like emeralds: His belt buckles sparkled, and bright stones were set in rich rows arranged up and down himself. Worked in the silk were too many trifles to tell the half of: embroidered birds, butterflies, and other things in a gaudy glory of green and inlaid gold.
"It is not my purpose to pass any time in this place,” said the green knight. “But I have been told that this court and castle are accounted the finest. True knighthood is known here, or so the tale runs, which is why I am here.”
“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” said Kham. “I’m no knight. And from the looks of it, neither are you.”
The hair on the giant’s head fanned out freely enfolding his shoulders, and his beard hung below as big as a bush, all mixed with the marvelous mane on his head, which was cut off in curls cascading to his elbows, wrapping round the rest of him like a king's cape clasped to his neck.
“You may be sure by this branch that I bear that I come in peace, with no plans for battle. I have a hauberk at home, and a helmet too, and other weapons I know well how to wield. Yet as war is not my wish I am wearing soft silk, but, if you wish to pass, you will be glad to grant me the game that is mine by right."
The giant held in one hand a sprig of holly that bursts out greenest when branches are bare; and his other hand hefted a huge and awful axe, a broad battleaxe with a bit to tell with a large head four feet long: the green steel down the grain etched with gold, its broad edge burnished and bright, shaped razor-sharp to sheer through steel, and held high on a heavy staff which was bound at the base with iron bands gracefully engraved in bright green patterns. A strap was strung through the steel head, running loop after loop down the length of the handle, which was tied with tassels in abundance, attaching by rich braids onto bright green buttons.
Kham looked over his shoulder. “I really don’t have time…”
"Do you have what it takes," said the giant, "to stand your ground, giving stroke for stroke? Here! I shall give you this gilded blade as my gift; this heavy axe shall be yours, to handle as you like, and I shall stand here bare of armor, and brave the first blow.”
Kham swigged a potion and disappeared. “How about you deal with him first, courtesy of the white room.”
The green giant looked surprised as a white, multi-limbed lizard slithered in from the adjacent room.
Vlad, Sebastian, and Beldin entered the room just in time to see the green giant dispatch the frost salamander.
“If you’re tough enough to try out my game, come here quickly and claim the weapon!” exclaimed the giant. “I give up all rights; he will get it for keeps.”
Beldin and Vlad looked at each other in disbelief.
"Hah! Where have your pride and your power gone, your bragging boasts, your big words? Your little invisible friend still tries to circumvent me, but it will do no good!”
He let out a laugh so loud that Vlad winced with shame; the blood shot to his flushed face and churned with rage and raised a storm until his heart burned.
"Look here, have you lost your mind?” asked Vlad. “Hand me that axe -- I will grant you the gift you beg me to give!"
Vlad lifted the axe from the giant’s hand.
The giant advanced while Vlad held the axe, both hands on the haft, hefted it sternly, considered his stroke. That burly giant bulked big and tall, a head higher than Vlad. He stood there hard-faced, stroking his beard, impassively watching as he pulled off his coat, no more moved or dismayed by his mighty swings than anybody would be if somebody brought him a bottle of wine.
Beldin put one hand out. “Wait. This is a giant. He’s offering an axe. Give it to me.”
Vlad handed the axe to the dwarf.
Beldin went to the giant, weapon in hand, not the least bit bashful, as bold as could be.
Then the green giant said to Beldin, "We should go over our agreement before we begin. First, dwarf, I would know your name, told truly as one I can trust."
"My name is Beldin Soulforge," he said, "I give it in good faith, as I will give you a blow and bear what comes after."
"Beldin: good. I derive great pleasure from the stroke your hardy hands will drive. Take up the grim tool you need, and show me how you chop."
"Gladly, sir," said Beldin, "Indeed,” and gave the axe a strop.
The green giant drew a smaller sword and faced Beldin down. With a roar, he swung at Beldin’s head.
The dwarf rolled and blocked the blow with the axe. He ducked and weaved, each shattering blow of the giant’s blade barely missing him. Finally, Beldin waited until the giant, exhausted, overextended himself with a particularly forceful blow.
His head low to the ground, Beldin held the axe high overhead, his left foot set before him on the floor, and swung swiftly at the soft flesh so the bit of the blade broke through the bones, crashed through the clear fat and cut it in two, and the brightly burnished edge bit into the earth.
The handsome head fell, hit the ground, and rolled forward. The red blood burst bright from the green body.
“That only took forever,” came Kham’s voice. Then the door opened behind the giant’s headless body.
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