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

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1a: Derek’s Holding

The trip to Derek’s Holding took about two hours of travel. Snow began falling steadily and the weather worsened as they got closer to the village. It was a cold and uncomfortable trip, even on horseback.

Derek’s Holding was a collection of about twenty modest dwellings. The homes had thatch roofs, stone walls, and dirt floors. Snow-covered fields surrounded the village and a well was at its center.

“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.

“What?” asked Vlad.

“There’s no smoke coming from any of the houses. Not a single fire in the village is lit.”

“Oh well, I guess no one’s home,” said Kham. “Can we leave now?”

“I see someone.” Vlad leaned forward on his horse. He blinked. “Is that…Dril?”

Nauris Drilian, swathed in but a brown cloak with a flintlock rifle strapped across his back, stumped his way through the snow over to their mounts. “Well, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Vlad. “What are you doing here?”

“Tracking Cael Greybeard.” Dril looked over his shoulder at the eerily quiet village. “He lives in this village.”

“We know,” said Ilmarė. “Vlad’s trying to deliver an apology to him.”

Dril arched an eyebrow. “I’m after him for a different reason. When that fireworks display went off in Freeport, Cael was on stage. It was touted as his last performance. All the performers on stage were facing Milton’s Folly when the lighthouse projected the Yellow Sign on the clouds. The audience had its back to it.”

“So you’re tracking down some old guy because of his performance?” Kham dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby tree. “You’re a tough critic.”

Dril shook his head. Snow fell off of the hood of his cloak. “All the performers on stage who were witness to the Yellow Sign’s manifestation in the sky slowly went mad. Some committed suicide. Others…” he looked sideways and Dril’s voice became a whisper, “I had to take care of personally. Cael’s the last of them; he slipped my grasp and took a ship out of Freeport before I could stop him.”

Vlad smacked one fist into an open palm. “I knew that Yig symbol wouldn’t fix everything!”

“Where are you going, Kham?” asked Ilmarė. Kham had walked ahem of them into the village.

“I see an open hut in the middle of the village. You three can argue about Yig and the Other Guy all day, I’m going to try to find shelter before this snowstorm gets worse.”

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Dril said to Kham’s back, but he was out of earshot.

“What’s in there?” asked Vlad.

Kham’s curse brought them running.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1b: Derek’s Holding

Inside the house was a scene of horror. The bodies of six or more villages lay torn and savaged upon the floor. Chairs and tables were overturned. Snow had blown into the house.

“You couldn’t have warned me about this before I got in here?” asked Kham in disgust.

“I tried.” Dril stood up from where he was inspecting the tracks. “They finally broke down the door.”

“They?” asked Vlad.

“Wolves.” Dril pointed at the bodies. They had all been fed upon, some to the bone in places. The entire room carried the stench of a wolf den.

Ilmarė wrinkled her nose. “So the wolves killed them all.”

“No,” said Dril. “I’ve broken into a few of the other homes. There are scratches and gnaw marks on some of the doors, but they didn’t get in. You’re right about one thing though: they’re all dead.”

“Dead of what?” asked Vlad.

“I’m not sure,” said Dril. He turned to look out the doorway. The snow fell heavier than before. “They were all frozen solid. Every corpse had a swollen tongue, sunken eyes, and cracked and broken skin inside their mouths. It’s almost as if they died of thirst.”

“How is that possible?” asked Vlad. “We passed a well coming in.”

Dril shook his head. “That well has been filled in. There was something else too…not a single container was in anyone’s home. No cups, no pots, no water skins, nothing.”

“So we’ve got a case of wolves and thieves. That’s not that uncommon,” said Kham, “especially in a little armpit of a village like this.”

“Oh, I found the containers. They were buried in a mound out in one of the fields.”

“This doesn’t make any sense at all,” said Vlad. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Dril. “All I do know is that Cael’s not here. I found his dwelling. Someone painted the Yellow Sign on one of the walls.”

“Well then, I think we have our answer as to what happened,” said Kham. “Can we go home now?”

Vlad gulped. “I will have to make a report to Duke Adolphos.”

There was a loud, mournful howl in the distance. Everyone stopped speaking to listen.

The first howl was answered by a second, much closer. It sounded like it was right behind the hut.

“We’ve got bigger problems,” said Ilmarė.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1c: Derek’s Holding

Ilmarė and Vlad ran outside into the snow, weapons at the ready. The snow whipped up, making it practically impossible to see anything but white and gray.

“Vlad!” shouted Ilmarė over the howl of the wind. “We have to get inside! Staying out here is suicide!”

“You don’t understand.” Vlad shielded his eyes from the snow. “These were Milandisians. I owe it to them.”

“Stupid human,” muttered Ilmarė. She turned to go back inside…

And came face to face with a pair of crystal blue eyes and a white snout. The snow-white wolf was five feet tall at the shoulder.

The wolf’s lips curled backwards to reveal teeth dripping with gore. Ilmarė slowly reached for her elven thinblade.

Then it was on her, barking and snarling. The weight of the thing slammed into her, hard. It was easily the size of a horse, and for a moment Ilmarė blacked out as the wind was knocked out of her.

Fetid, hot breath scalded her neck. There was the sharp retort of two pistols firing. When Ilmarė opened her eyes, it was gone.

Ilmarė struggled to her feet. She thought she had seen three large white shapes darting through the snow. But the wolves had disappeared.

She could barely make out Vlad in the blowing snow. “I told you this was a bad idea,” she said to him.

Vlad didn’t respond.

Ilmarė took a closer look. Vlad was encased in ice, sword raised high to strike an unseen foe.

“What’s going on?” shouted Dril. “Was it the wolves?”

Ilmarė pointed at Vlad’s frozen form. “Worse,” she said. “Winter wolves.”

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1d: Derek’s Holding

“What the hell happened to Vlad?” Dril helped lug Vlad’s flash-frozen body into the hut.

“Winter wolves.” Ilmarė stood at the center of the hut facing the doorway, her bow drawn. “They can breathe frost. I think there were three of them.”

“But they had the advantage,” said Dril. He unshouldered his rifle. “Why did they run away?”

Kham, leaning on the doorframe, reloaded one of his pistols. “They’re reloading.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it.” Kham reloaded another of his pistols. “They could have killed one or two of us just now, but we would have killed a few of them as well. The wolves are eating snow so they can spew their breath at us again. They’ll keep it up until we make a mistake.” He nodded towards the unforgiving snowstorm outside. “They can afford to be patient.”

“Well we can’t.” Dril tipped a healing potion up to Vlad’s frozen lips. “Vlad’s in bad shape. In this snow, we can’t even see them until they’re right on top of us.”

“And it reeks of wolf in here.” Ilmarė wrinkled her nose.

“We’re in their den,” said Kham. “To the wolves, we’re the intruders.”

“Great,” said Ilmarė. “So we stay in here until we starve to death like these pathetic fools?” She kicked one of the torn limbs.

Kham took off his lenses. For a moment his pupiless eyes sharply contrasted with his silhouette, framed against the white snow beyond the hut. “I’m not going to die in here.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Dril.

Kham holstered both of his pistols and patted himself down. “I think Quintus needs a new wolf pelt.” Then he walked out into the snow.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 1e: Derek’s Holding

Kham closed the door behind him. The wind howled, whipping the snow into a blinding wall of whiteness. He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him.

Even though the wolves were easily the size of horses, they were all white. The only part of them that contrasted at all was their crystal blue eyes, and even that was hard to make out until it was too late.

Kham was looking for something else this time.

A nearby howl told him they were coming. They weren’t trying to hide anymore. The wolves knew they had their prey trapped.

Kham crouched and eased back his coat so that he could have easy access to his pistols. When Kham had faced off against Zainat Zameri, he wasn’t ready. Kham found it ironic that it was literal wolves he was dueling; he had much more experience with the kind that wore human clothing.

There was another howl, off to his right. Kham tried to concentrate on his breathing. He had a split second to react once he saw the bloodstain from where he tagged the alpha wolf the first time. One second too late and he would end up like Vlad…only this time they would shatter him like a fragile sculpture and eat the bloody chunks.

Kham had been a statue before. It wasn’t so bad.

He spotted a flash of red through the blinding snow. The damned thing was actually zig-zagging, completely unhindered by the knee-deep snowdrifts. They were a lot smarter than he thought.

Another wolf howled behind him. Kham would not be deterred. He knew enough about wolves to understand that his standoff against the alpha wolf was all he had to worry about.

Snow churned up in short bursts as the alpha wolf closed the distance at maximum speed.

Kham kept his hands steady, fingers twitching over the holsters. Steady…

The alpha wolf stopped short, plowing up a furrow of snow. Then it started padding slowly, confidently towards him.

Steady…

The wind was freezing Kham’s skin where it was exposed. Some of it trickled down his back and under his coat.

Kham suppressed a chill. The alpha wolf was challenging him.

He couldn’t look away. It came closer.

Steady…

The alpha wolf was mere feet away. Its blue eyes gleamed with a feral intelligence. The beast was gauging him, waiting to see what he would do next. It knew the things he had at his hips could hurt it, as evidenced by the bright red blood that left a staccato pattern in the snow.

The crack of gunfire echoed behind him. Something yelped, nearly in Kham’s ear.

Then everything happened at once. The alpha wolf’s features twisted into a snarl as it opened its mouth to unleash a hoary blast. Kham’s gloved hands snatched at his pistols as lightly as if they were extension of his arms. In one smooth motion, he lifted them and fired down the throat of the alpha wolf.

The explosion practically blew it apart. It reared up and backwards, spraying blood and ice. Then its twitching body collapsed into the snow. A grim halo of red spread out from around the corpse.

Kham looked over his shoulder. Another wolf lay dead, a bullet hole through the side of its skull.

“Nice shot,” said Kham to Dril through the latticed window.

Dril pulled his rifle back from the opening. “They were bluffing you. While the alpha wolf kept you busy, another wolf was creeping up behind you. I thought I should even the odds.”

Kham reholstered his pistols, grateful that they had fired when he needed them most.

Ilmarė opened the door. “That was foolish. Why would you do such a stupid thing?”

Kham patted Fleshripper. “To prove I still could,” he said.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2a: The Village of Dunover

When they returned to Duke Adolphos’ castle, the herald was directing the hanging of certain banners around the hall. Each banner was adorned with a different set of colors, depictions and patterns, and each one represented a different noble person.

“Nice banners,” said Kham.

“The noble families invited to the winter solstice celebration will know where to sit by gathering at the tables closest to the banner of their lord,” explained Vlad.

“No,” called out Duke Adolphos. “Move Lord Andreas further up towards high table; his family always brings that wonderful jester to entertain.”

Just then, the duke noticed Vlad waiting. He nodded a greeting and moved to a side table. Vlad apologetically explained what they had witnessed.

“I am rather disturbed by your news,” said Adolphos, “and even more so because I do not know its cause. I command you to travel to Dunover and Brighton, the next two villages closest to the castle. Learn what they might know of this madness or plague.” He turned away, then hesitated and turned back. “This time, take some supplies and warm clothing. The quartermaster will send you with two bottles of wine to present to the heads of the villages. Yule gifts might loosen their tongues.”

“And what of Derek’s Holding, your grace?” asked Vlad.

“Speak not of what you witnessed,” Adolphos said with a frown. “It will be a small matter to replace the peasants once spring comes, but a more difficult one if the lands get a reputation for being cursed.” He leaned closer to Vlad. “Or rebellion.” He straightened up and spoke louder for the benefit of those eavesdropping. “Leave at once and travel with all haste. I’ve instructed the stable master to issue you two mounts, a sleigh, and a horse to pull it as well. Come directly to me upon your return.” He leaned forward again. “Report to none but me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your grace,” said Vlad.

“Excellent. I expect you back in time for the Yule celebration in five days. Some of my guests might inquire as to where my Bailiff is, and I don’t wish to explain your absence.”

He nodded to Vlad with a serious look. Then he returned to his herald and the preparations for the Yule celebration.

Once Vlad was out of sight of the Duke, his shoulders sagged.

“Amazing,” said Kham. “He’s like a Milandisian version of Quintus.”

“Don’t chide him too much.” Ilmarė stared pointedly at Fleshripper hanging from Kham’s hip. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2b: The Village of Dunover

As they approached the village, it was clear that all was not well long before they arrived.

A murder or ravens circled overhead in the distance. Strange shapes littered the fields and roadside nearer the village. The ravens were gathered around some of the shapes, working hard to remove strips of flesh.

“Don’t tell me…” said Kham.

Ilmarė blanched. “More dead villagers.”

The villagers all lay dead, each as naked as the day they were born. The bodies were filthy, with mouths, hands, and feet caked with dirt.

Dril hopped down off of his horse. “Strange.”

“Could this get any stranger?” asked Kham.

“It’s their stomachs,” said Dril. “They’re distended. You see that sometimes in corpses that have been dead for a while. The vapors in the stomach expand—“

“We get the idea,” said Ilmarė.

Dril coughed. “Anyway, these bodies are stiff as nails. Decay hasn’t set in. So something else caused this.” He leaned forward to inspect the body of a woman. “It looks almost as if they were eating…grass.”

Dril remounted and joined the slow procession into the eerily silent village. All throughout, there were frozen, naked corpses of men, women and children. Many of the houses were in total disarray, with filth and waste covering the floor in places. There were no livestock to be found.

They stopped at the entrance to a barn. Vlad peered inside.

“Well,” said Vlad. “I think we can confidently state that the Yellow Sign did this.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Dril.

Vlad clucked his horse back to let Dril look inside.

It looked as if there had been a mass gathering in the farmhouse. Bales of hay were arranged like benches and a platform was created from some planks. A frozen mug of ale sat half-drunk on the planks of the crude stage. Piles of clothing were everywhere.

But what transfixed their collective gaze was the Yellow Sign, painted on a cloak and hung behind the stage like a banner.

“Cael strikes again,” said Kham, quickly looking away. “He must have put on quite a show.”

“We’re too late,” said Vlad. “Again.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Ilmarė. “Look.”

In the entire village of over a dozen homes and farms, only one house had a line of smoke coming from it. Without a word, they spurred their mounts towards the lone home.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2c: The Village of Dunover

“Hello?” shouted Vlad.

The house appeared shut and intact, but Vlad received no response.

As they approached the house, they were assaulted by a cacophony of animal-like screeches and howls. A group of naked, filthy villagers rushed from around the corner of the building. They growled and slavered, charging forward with lust and murder in their eyes.

“Try not to hurt them!” shouted Vlad. “They’re Milandisians!”

Ilmarė sighed. “Fine.” She pointed at a cluster of the crazed villagers. “Îdh!”

Four of them stumbled in mid-step and collapsed into the snow, unconscious.

Dril pointed at Kham. “You may want to tell him that.”

Kham had dismounted and was swinging Fleshripper overhead, shouting like a madman. It was difficult to discern who was crazier: the villagers or the val.

“He’s gone mad again!” shouted Vlad. “Ilmarė, do something!”

Ilmarė shook her head. “I can’t stop him.” A villager was nearly sawed in half by Kham’s blow. “I can just get some of these pathetic fools out of his way.” She pointed at the villagers again. “Oltha!”

Four more of the villagers froze, oblivious to Kham’s butchering behind them. They stopped gibbering and turned to look at the elorii.

“Get inside that hut,” said Ilmarė. “And lock the door. It’s not safe out here.”

The four villagers turned and walked into one of the open homes. Then the door slammed shut behind them.

Kham ran Fleshripper through an old woman. Then he kicked her corpse off of the blade.

“Well, at least they’ll be safe inside,” said Vlad.

They could hear a mournful howl inside the hut. Only the shadows of figures locked in struggle could be made out through the block glass window.

As Ilmarė’s magic wore off, the villagers turned on each other. Blood splashed on the window. A few more shrieks and screams later, and the hut was silent once more.

“I’m not so sure that was the better choice,” said Dril.

 

[talien]

Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2d: The Village of Dunover

“Well, there’s definitely someone inside.” Dril’s ear was pressed against the front door. “I can hear movement in there.”

“Hello?” shouted Kham, pounding on the door. Blood drenched his boots and mixed with the snow wherever he stepped.

“Maybe you’re not the best person to answer the door,” said Vlad. “Let me try.” He knocked on the door again. “I am Vlad Martell, Bailiff of Duke Adolphos val’Tensen. I have been sent to ensure your safety. Please let us in, you will not be harmed.”

“Quintus would be proud,” said Kham with a smirk. He wiped Fleshripper off in the snow.

“You have a better idea?” asked Dril.

“Yeah.” Kham sheathed Fleshripper. He strode over to the door and drew a dagger.

“Planning to open the door with that little blade?” asked Ilmarė.

“Big things come in small packages,” said Kham. He bumped the hilt of the dagger against the door and lock picks popped out of it. A few twists and a click later, and the door swung open.

“Hello?” asked Vlad. “Is anyone here?”

An old woman with a bowl of steaming hot porridge in her hands worked busily in her simple dwelling. She showed no signs of noticing them.

“Hello? Ma’am?” Vlad put one hand on her shoulder.

The woman shrieked and jumped backwards, dropping the porridge.

“Oh my!” she said, looking around at them all. “Well, aren’t you a strange bunch. Have you dealt with all the madmen?”

“Sorry, didn’t meant to startle you,” said Vlad. “Yes, we…” he looked askance at Kham, who was staring hungrily at the porridge, “…took care of them.”

“Eh?” said the old woman.

“I said,” said Vlad. “You’re safe now.”

“What?”

“I SAID,” shouted Vlad, “YOU’RE SAFE NOW!”

“Oh,” said the old woman, blinking back at the force of Vlad’s shout. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on in and have some porridge.”

Ilmarė rolled her eyes. “Now we know why she’s not crazy like the rest of them.”

“Why is that?” asked Dril.

“Because she couldn’t hear Cael’s tale of the King in Yellow.”

 

[Fimmtiu]

Am I the only one getting flashbacks to the blind hermit scene in "Young Frankenstein"?