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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4302852" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Baumann's Prize: Conclusion</strong></p><p></p><p>When they finally arrived at The Last Resort, it was easy to find out Flint’s room number from Bobbin. </p><p></p><p>“The gnome said he wouldn’t be getting many visitors,” said Bobbin. “But they’ve been coming in all day. Rough-looking types went up to call on Flint a half-hour ago.”</p><p></p><p>“Wait,” said Vlad. “I know that gnome. I was having a beer with him today!”</p><p></p><p>They rushed up the steps. The door was partially ajar. Corinalous pushed the door open.</p><p></p><p>Flint was still in the room, although it looked as though he would never leave it again under his own power—or in one piece, for that matter. </p><p></p><p>The gnome lay splayed on the room’s solitary bed. His throat was cut wide and his chest sliced open, with the contents of the latter piled sloppily at his feet. Blood, bile, and other viscera soaked into the mattress and puddled onto the floor below. These substances were also used to scrawl a series of words and symbols on the wall over the bed. </p><p></p><p>“That’s no language I’ve ever seen,” said Ilmarė.</p><p></p><p>Corinalous stood over the corpse of his friend, shaking his head. “Oh Flint. I told you not to pursue this.”</p><p></p><p>Kham peered at the words. “Leviathan, we offer these gifts in your name. O Master of the Seas, guide us as we struggle in your foul name. Bloody One, grant us strength.”</p><p></p><p>“Leviathan?” Vlad took a step back. “Did you say Leviathan?”</p><p></p><p>Between the unhallowed words, Kham could make out one design that was almost familiar: an octopus’ head. As he looked closer, he realized something strange about the design: five stars circle the dome of the octopus. </p><p></p><p>Corinalous lifted up a heel of the dead gnome’s boot and, twisting it slightly, pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment.</p><p></p><p>He handed the parchment to Kham. It was browned, faded and roughened to the consistency of leather. </p><p></p><p>They stepped out of the room and downstairs. Sebastian took Bobbin aside to explain what happened.</p><p></p><p>Kham unrolled the parchment onto a nearby table. It expanded into a cracked five-foot square map, with wear along the edges.</p><p></p><p>The map had no indications of scale or direction; the trails of latitude and longitude began at the margins of the map, but they didn’t extend more than a few inches. Five islands rendered in ochre by an unsteady hand dominated the map, forming a rough circle.</p><p></p><p>Four of the island drawings featured terrain markings—mountains, jungles, natural harbors, and so forth. In addition, a unique icon sat below each of the four islands: a prosthetic hook, a spyglass, a ship’s bell, and a pistol. The fifth island was blank, save for a symbol in its middle—an octopus head and crossbones with five stars ringed above the dome of the head—and a single word beneath it: R’LYEH.</p><p></p><p>“That’s the sign of Leviathan,” said Vlad again, tapping the octopus head. “So the Leviathan cult has finally made it to Freeport.”</p><p></p><p>“There’s an inscription in the corner here,” said Ilmarė. “By a ship-wrack’d hand, late of Freeport, a veteran of the great campaign, as a warning to all: here there be terrors beyond all reckoning. There’s a date too: several days short of one hundred and fifty years ago.”</p><p></p><p>Another patch of ocean set off in a triangle and filled with a picture of a whirling vortex of water sat in another corner of the map, falling inside the latitude and longitude coordinate markings. </p><p></p><p>“This part reads, Hell’s Triangle,” said Beldin from his side of the map. “There’s an icon of a sextant. The text below it reads: Safe transit, housed in Freeport, the gift of noble Carthy.”</p><p></p><p>Corinalous leaned back in his chair, weary and drawn. The adrenaline had worn off. </p><p></p><p>“Flint acquired that map a few month ago. Not being able to make head or tail of it, he corresponded with me. I assured him that the map wash extremely valuable. I planned to book passage to Freeport on the Wasser Madchen, but it crossed paths with the Kraken’s Claw at sea and was sunk. I told Captain Baumann I knew how to get my hands on a load of treasure.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, that explains why you weren’t answering my messages,” said Kham. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his father’s presence. “You’ve got to rest up. If the Cult of Leviathan has come to Freeport, it’s not safe here.</p><p></p><p>Corinalous nodded. “I will look after Flint’s corpse and spread his ashes. I have…” his gazed lingered on Kham’s emerald, “…a safe house in Freeport. We can hide there while we figure out what to do next.”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė looked back and forth between Corinalous and Kham. “If you’re Kham’s father, what’s up with that accent?”</p><p></p><p>“What accent?” asked Corinalous.</p><p></p><p>“What matters is that we got came for,” said Sebastian. He bowed his head slightly to Corinalous. </p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” said Kham, patting several vials of stolen ghoul juice in the folds of his overcoat. “We got what we came for.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4302852, member: 3285"] [b]Baumann's Prize: Conclusion[/b] When they finally arrived at The Last Resort, it was easy to find out Flint’s room number from Bobbin. “The gnome said he wouldn’t be getting many visitors,” said Bobbin. “But they’ve been coming in all day. Rough-looking types went up to call on Flint a half-hour ago.” “Wait,” said Vlad. “I know that gnome. I was having a beer with him today!” They rushed up the steps. The door was partially ajar. Corinalous pushed the door open. Flint was still in the room, although it looked as though he would never leave it again under his own power—or in one piece, for that matter. The gnome lay splayed on the room’s solitary bed. His throat was cut wide and his chest sliced open, with the contents of the latter piled sloppily at his feet. Blood, bile, and other viscera soaked into the mattress and puddled onto the floor below. These substances were also used to scrawl a series of words and symbols on the wall over the bed. “That’s no language I’ve ever seen,” said Ilmarė. Corinalous stood over the corpse of his friend, shaking his head. “Oh Flint. I told you not to pursue this.” Kham peered at the words. “Leviathan, we offer these gifts in your name. O Master of the Seas, guide us as we struggle in your foul name. Bloody One, grant us strength.” “Leviathan?” Vlad took a step back. “Did you say Leviathan?” Between the unhallowed words, Kham could make out one design that was almost familiar: an octopus’ head. As he looked closer, he realized something strange about the design: five stars circle the dome of the octopus. Corinalous lifted up a heel of the dead gnome’s boot and, twisting it slightly, pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment. He handed the parchment to Kham. It was browned, faded and roughened to the consistency of leather. They stepped out of the room and downstairs. Sebastian took Bobbin aside to explain what happened. Kham unrolled the parchment onto a nearby table. It expanded into a cracked five-foot square map, with wear along the edges. The map had no indications of scale or direction; the trails of latitude and longitude began at the margins of the map, but they didn’t extend more than a few inches. Five islands rendered in ochre by an unsteady hand dominated the map, forming a rough circle. Four of the island drawings featured terrain markings—mountains, jungles, natural harbors, and so forth. In addition, a unique icon sat below each of the four islands: a prosthetic hook, a spyglass, a ship’s bell, and a pistol. The fifth island was blank, save for a symbol in its middle—an octopus head and crossbones with five stars ringed above the dome of the head—and a single word beneath it: R’LYEH. “That’s the sign of Leviathan,” said Vlad again, tapping the octopus head. “So the Leviathan cult has finally made it to Freeport.” “There’s an inscription in the corner here,” said Ilmarė. “By a ship-wrack’d hand, late of Freeport, a veteran of the great campaign, as a warning to all: here there be terrors beyond all reckoning. There’s a date too: several days short of one hundred and fifty years ago.” Another patch of ocean set off in a triangle and filled with a picture of a whirling vortex of water sat in another corner of the map, falling inside the latitude and longitude coordinate markings. “This part reads, Hell’s Triangle,” said Beldin from his side of the map. “There’s an icon of a sextant. The text below it reads: Safe transit, housed in Freeport, the gift of noble Carthy.” Corinalous leaned back in his chair, weary and drawn. The adrenaline had worn off. “Flint acquired that map a few month ago. Not being able to make head or tail of it, he corresponded with me. I assured him that the map wash extremely valuable. I planned to book passage to Freeport on the Wasser Madchen, but it crossed paths with the Kraken’s Claw at sea and was sunk. I told Captain Baumann I knew how to get my hands on a load of treasure.” “Well, that explains why you weren’t answering my messages,” said Kham. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his father’s presence. “You’ve got to rest up. If the Cult of Leviathan has come to Freeport, it’s not safe here. Corinalous nodded. “I will look after Flint’s corpse and spread his ashes. I have…” his gazed lingered on Kham’s emerald, “…a safe house in Freeport. We can hide there while we figure out what to do next.” Ilmarė looked back and forth between Corinalous and Kham. “If you’re Kham’s father, what’s up with that accent?” “What accent?” asked Corinalous. “What matters is that we got came for,” said Sebastian. He bowed his head slightly to Corinalous. “Yeah,” said Kham, patting several vials of stolen ghoul juice in the folds of his overcoat. “We got what we came for.” [/QUOTE]
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