The Golden Key: From the Casebook of Nigel Spenser (Updated 9/16)

[Kid Charlemagne]

"Nine o'clock in the morning, must be time to beat up the Green Daggers again," Artimis deadpanned.

Orla tugged on Nigel's coat sleeve.

"Look over there," she said softly.

Nigel looked in the direction she was pointing. Iron Tusk was slipping down the alley just down the road from the Green Dagger headquarters. Orla, Nigel, Artimis, and Sandor followed; Dr. Holmes returned to Lloyd's of London to inform Cass and Amanda of their whereabouts. The Orkling headed directly north, to the wall surrounding Highgate Cemetary. He clambered over the wall, and dropped ungracefully on the other side.

Nigel took Laddie around by the main gate a few blocks away, but the others climbed the wall after Iron Tusk. They met up just inside the wall.

"How embarrassing," Nigel said. "Was Cyranthus just feeding us bad information, or are Gwyneth and Iron Tusk double-crossing him?"

"I do not know," Sandor replied. "But we seem to have found our friend's destination."

The Hungarian pointed to a large mausoleum. The four investigators took cover by a hedge, and watched as the Orkling entered through the main entry of the tomb.

"Well, good," Orla said. "Things are looking up. It's not like they could get much worse.

"What's Laddie getting into there?"

The wolfhound had started growling at something under the hedge, which Nigel took at first to be a rabbit or mouse. Then he realized Laddie was struggling and biting at the sleeve of an old coat.

What was odd was that the coat appeared to be fighting back.

"What have you got there, boy?" he asked.

And a small child's chemise wrapped itself around his neck and started choking him.

It took a moment or two for the others to realize that they were actually in danger. Sandor was particularly perplexed, until a ratty pair of trousers tried to put him into a scissors lock.

Artimis passed his hand over one of his tattoos and spoke a word, and a pale green ray shot at the chemise wrapped around Nigel's throat. Nigel ducked out of instinct, and it flew over his head.

Nigel pried the chemise off of himself and tried to hit with one of his axes, to little effect. Sandor ripped the trousers off of himself, and pinned them neatly to the ground with a pair of thrown daggers. Nigel chopped them up into bits, and Orla slashed the chemise that had attacked Nigel with a couple of deft strokes.

Nigel regained his composure.

"Next time you feel the need to express your opinions about our changing fortune," he said, "Please consider it carefully!"

"What is this," Artimis exclaimed, incredulously. "The cemetery of misfit clothes?"

"Shhh," Sandor whispered. "Iron Tusk again."

The Orkling stepped out of the tomb, and around the corner. He was only gone for a few seconds, and returned quickly, closing the door after himself again.

"What was that?" Nigel asked as they closed on the mausoleum door.
Sandor stepped around the side of the building. "Call of nature, I think."

"Whose tomb is this?" Orla asked.

The name above the door read "Chenowith." The coat of arms matched that of the dagger that they had taken from Gwyneth, and given back. Sandor's mood brightened.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "This means I will get to take that dagger back again!"

"Just don't say your luck is changing," Artimis said. "We might get attacked by an armoire."

Nigel opened the metal door. Several steps led down to a hallway extending forward from the entrance. Iron Tusk was no where to be seen. The hall stretched about forty feet, and at the twenty foot mark, a side hall led to the right. On the left hand wall was a carving of a face. Water poured out of the mouth of the face, and into a channel which ran down the center of the right hand wall, and into a small pool in a dead-end chamber. There, they found carvings of a host of demons, and a man with his arms outstretched. The Bastard, and once again, it was impossible to tell if he was commanding them or holding them back.

"This place is dedicated to the family," Nigel said softly. "That is the Bastard, and the carved face is the Father, I think. These other carvings," he said pointing to several niches with statues, "would be the other members."

They advanced down the hall, and entered a rectangular room with a low, murky pool and two side passages. Each passage led into a smaller sepulchre. Each contained three sarcophaguses. Iron Tusk was nowhere to be seen, and there seemed to be nowhere for him to have gone.

"I guess this is the last of the Chenowiths," Orla said. "Seems August first, 1760, was a bad day to belong to this family."

"What do you mean?" Sandor asked.

"Look."

In the right hand sepulcher were:

"Lord James Chenowith," born January 11th, 1717, died June 4th, 1784.
"Lady Mary Chenowith," born May 3rd,1720, died March 15th, 1752.
"Margaret Chenowith," born September 18th, 1741, died August 1st, 1760.​

And on the left hand,

"Faith Chenowith", born September 21st, 1745, died August 1st, 1760.
"Lord James Chenowith, son and heir," born April 10th, 1749, died April 1st, 1818.
"Richard Chenowith," born April 1st 1762, died August 1st, 1760.​

Each of the stone coffins had been opened.

While Orla and Sandor searched the sepulchers, Nigel had rolled up his pants legs and climbed into the murky water of the low pool in the central chamber. It was only about a foot deep, but covered in muck.

"You wouldn't catch me dead in that water," Artimis said, looking on disapprovingly.

"How bad can it be?" Nigel answered, not as confident as he tried to appear.

"I could go on and on," Artimis replied. "But I can at least do this."

He spoke a word and passed his hand over his eyes. He looked at the pool, lost in thought. Finally, he pointed.

"There."

Nigel moved the spot Artimis indicated. He reached out, and then thinking better of it, drew out an arrow and felt around for something. He encountered resistance, but as he lifted it, he could feel the arrow head tear into it. He muttered a curse under his breath and lifted it out as quickly as he could while still being careful in case anything was fragile.

He laid what appeared to be a shiny, rubbery pouch on the flagstones. The arrow had poked through the skin of the pouch, and the contents were soaked. Nigel quickly knelt down and picked them out. There was a leather pouch, filled with what was now muddy sand, two glass vials, one containing a colorless liquid, the other a gold liquid, an intricately carved stone about two inches in diameter, and a note that was completely soaked, the ink running off the page.

Nigel laid out the note and tried to read it. He had gotten it just in time; it was still legible.

V.,
As promised, here is the key as well as a few gifts in honor of our meeting. We are impatient to discuss with you the terms of our business, and await you in the Grand Hall.
I.​

"I wonder what that pouch was made of," Orla mused, indicating the torn, rubbery, bag.

"Kraken skin," Artimis answered, absent-mindedly, turning the carved stone over and over in his hands. "It's ideal for keeping things perfectly dry. So long as you don't poke it with sharp objects."

"Who is 'V'," Sandor asked. "'I,' could be Iron Tusk."

"Perhaps," Nigel responded. "Hard to say. I'd rather know where they went."

"I think I might know," Artimis said. With a sigh of disgust, he stepped into the pool, and to a carving in the wall. He placed the carved stone into a spot where the design had been broken. It fit perfectly. He pressed on it, and a door, previously unseen, opened. A set of roughly carved steps led down, through a widened natural fissure. The sounds of running water could be heard.

Artimis stepped through the door and down the steps, followed by the others. The steps led to a landing above a wide cavern. They could not see the farthest side, but they could see that just below them, a waterfall issued forth from the cavern wall, falling down into the chasm below.

:"Fifty feet, maybe, from the sound of it," Artimis guessed.

A narrow fissure led out from the landing area, and seemed to circle the central chasm. After a short while they found themselves at another landing. Another fissure led into the cavern wall.

"Do you hear something?" Sandor asked.

"Something squeaking, like an old machine, or something," Nigel conjectured.

"More than one thing," Artimis said. "And it's getting closer. Quickly."

"Look lively," Nigel shouted. "Whatever it is, it's almost here!"

And then the rats came.

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

The rats poured out of the fissure like someone had turned on a spigot. There were perhaps two dozen of them, each as large as bull terrier, and they swarmed towards the investigators with no regard for their lives. Nigel shot one with his bow, which he then dropped as he drew out his Fir Bohlg hand axes. Orla and Sandor moved to either side of the fissure the rats were pouring out of, and began picking them off slowly.

Artimis skewered one rat, and lept over another to reach Nigel, who had been bitten multiple times. Soon, they had carved up the vermin thoroughly, and the squeaking noises had subsided, though not completely. Artimis reached inside his pack and pulled out a small lizard, which he lifted to the roof of the fissure. The lizard darted down into the darkness.

"What is that?" Sandor asked.

"Seth." Artimis replied. "A lizard for indoors, a hawk for outdoors. He'll scout out the rest of this noises."

"How much more of a menagerie do you have?" Orla asked.

Artimis didn't answer. After few moments, he started down the way the rats had come.

"I think its clear now," he said.

They made their way down the narrow fissure for the length of about a hundred feet, and the fissure opened into a larger, more finished chamber. Crates and boxes were stacked all about the room. Seth the lizard lept off a stack of boxes onto Artimis shoulder and crawled back into his pack.

Nigel cracked open one of the boxes. Inside were some packages of dried food, a tin of biscuits, and some bottles of cheap beer.

"Supplies," he said. "Food, and so on. Not sure for who, though."

Something stirred at the far end of the room. A couple of large, shambling shapes came into view. They were rat-like, but these were the size of a large dog or wolf. Their fur was spotty and sparse, with scaly skin underneath. Nigel pulled out his bow again, and nocked and arrow just as they came at them. Orla sidesteppd one and skewered it, enough of a blow to kill one of the terrier-rats. It kept coming. Sandor threw a knife, which bounced off the scaly hide of the other. Artimis threw a spell at the one on Orla, and it shrunk back from her and retreated. The other, seeing its ally fleeing, fled as well.

Orla pursued it down a hall at the other end of the chamber, only slowing when she realized no one was following her. The rat-thing, or another just like it, had stopped and turned to face her. She stopped, and challenged the creature.

"That's it" she said. "Just come a little closer!"

The rat-thing glared at her, it's beady red eyes glowing in the faint light.

"Mallo," it hissed at her. "Tu mallo!"

"What in the…?" Orla said, as she backed off, returning to the chamber where the others waited.

"It said something to me," she told them, bewildered. "I'm not really sure what it said to me, but it was definitely talking!"

"I think we should return to ze outside," Sandor said. "Talking rats as big as cattle, is not good thing."

"They weren't that big," Orla replied.

"He's right, though. I'm used up most of my magic," Artimis replied.

"Maybe we can find out some more about this Chenowith family," Orla said, hopefully.

Nigel reluctantly agreed. They made their way back up through the fissure to the ledge where they had fought the first wave of rats. Artimis stopped, and looked over the ledge down at the water below.

"Wait," he said. "I want to see what's down there."

He took a rope and handed one end to Nigel. He dropped the other end over the side of the ledge, thirty feet down to the water. He unfastened the collar that anchored his curious half-cape, and set it aside. Orla stared, and nudged Nigel.

"Are those… gills?" she asked.

Artimis pulled off his boots, and they could clearly see webbing between his toes, like an amphibious creature.

"Nigel," Orla said with a grin, "looks like you're not the only one with a secret."

Nigel smiled wanly.

"Some secrets are easier to hide than others," he replied, as Artimis dove off the ledge and into the water, with perfect form.

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

"Aaaaahhh!" Artimis roared in pain.

Orla ran to the edge of the ledge. "Are you alright, Artimis?"

Artimis thrashed about in the waist-high water for a few moments.

"Yes, I'm alright. A little bruised and banged up, but I'll survive," he answered. "Why didn't somebody check the pool for depth?"

"You're the expert on water," Orla responded.

Artimis was standing in a pool of water roughly fifty feet from one side to the other. He had stopped thrashing at the water in frustration, but the water was not becoming still. The surface roiled as something moved beneath the surface and all around him.

"Artimis," Nigel said. "Something's not quite right down there."

"You don't say!" Artimis replied. "The water is only three feet deep! I think…"

"Wait a minute…

He looked all about him as multiple things started to break the surface of the water.

"Get me out of here!"

He leapt for the rope he had the forethought to throw down before diving into the pool. Behind him, a score or more glittering, skeletal forms rose up from the murky water, and began to advance on him. Nigel and Sandor grabbed the rope and hauled Artimis up from the pool below, just past the grasping skeletal hands of his pursuers.

Artimis rolled onto the ledge, breathing hard. He had several severe-looking bruises from his ill-advised dive, but none of the skeletons had managed to draw blood.

"Does anyone have a healing potion or something like that?" he asked.

"I do," Orla replied tentatively. "These things cost money, you know," she added.

"Money?" Artimis responded.

"Money, yeah," Orla replied. "You know, makes the world go 'round, you use it to pay for things? Did you hit your head?"

"Oh, I see," Artimis replied. "That sort of thing isn't terribly important where I come from."

"You don't have money where you come from?" Orla asked, skeptically.

Artimis shook his head. "No. Where I come from, if I want gold or silver, I just go out and take what I need. Where I come from, that sort of thing can be found anywhere I care to look. We don't value it highly. If it's money you need, look at this," he said, pulling a rolled up coil of vellum from his pack. "Plenty of it there, I'd expect."

Orla took the proffered scroll, and unrolled it. Nigel and Sandor moved closer, looking over her shoulder.

It was a map of some kind, but the strangest one Nigel had ever seen. After a moment he realized it was a map of the western Mediterranean Sea, from about the coast of Crete in the east to the straits of Gibraltar in the west, but the map included almost no detail about areas on land, instead substituting cryptic notes about the lands surrounding the sea. The coasts, on the other hand, were nearly perfectly drawn, and numerous underwater hazards were noted with unerring accuracy. An "x" was clearly noted in the sea south of the French-Italian border, not far from a trio of islands, two large and one small.

"I got this from a sailor here," Artimis said, pointing out an area on the map.

"That would be France," Orla said.

"Right. Whatever." Artimis seemed not to even recognize the name. "My people do not care greatly for gold, but if a ship crashes that has some more important meaning, we do take note."

"And this," Nigel pointing the "x" marked on the map, "is such a ship?"

"Yes. It was a ship belonging to an important man. He ruled all of this, once," He gestured vaguely at the land north of the Mediterranean. "I forget his name. He was traveling along here."

He traced a line from the trio of islands towards the French coast.

"He made the journey safely, but he had a second ship that was carrying the bulk of his treasures, and that was caught in a storm here," he pointed to the "x."

"It did not make it to port."

"What are these islands, here?" Sandor pointed to the trio of islands. Orla looked at the map for a moment, thinking furiously. Artimis shrugged, either not knowing or caring. Nigel stared off, a far-away look in his eyes.

"That southern one is Sardinia, I think," she said, thinking back to her lessons before she dedicated herself to fencing. "The northern one would be… Corsica, I think?

"I have no idea what that smaller one is though," she said, pointing to the much smaller island, between the northern end of Corsica and the Italian coast.

"Elba," Nigel stated flatly. "The small one is Elba."

"That's where the ship came from, isn't it, Artimis?"

"Yes, that's right," he replied.

"Wait," Orla said, her head spinning. "Wait. I know that name. Elba. Are you trying to tell me that this wreck…"

"Napoleon." Nigel stated again.

"The man who ruled all that land was Napoleon, and you're saying that that 'x' marks a vessel full of his treasure?"

"That was his name!" Artimis exclaimed. "He was important, right?"

"You could say that," Nigel replied. "I think you'd best take good care of that map, if you think it's legitimate."

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

The investigators tried their best to sneak out of the darkening cemetery. They made it almost all the way out before being accosted by Mr. Morley, the watchman. Orla and Nigel managed to convince the elderly fellow that they had lost track of time and become lost, and he soon warmed up to them and began to spin tales of the cemetery and its silent denizens.

"There be lots of ghosts in the cemetery," he explained. "Mostly children, for some reason. T'were a big infestation of 'em 'bout two years ago, but they've quieted down since."

"Any stories about that mausoleum?" Orla asked, indicating the Chenowith tomb, barely visible in the gloom.

"Oh, aye," Morley replied. "T'were lots of bad luck for that family, if I recall. The one Lord were killed by his own horse, another struck by lightning."

"That's one o' three tombs that were here before they built the rest o' the place."

"Really?" Orla perked up. "What about the others?"

"Me assistant would know more. Gilley's 'is name. He's off now, but he'll be around in the morning."

"Well, that's interesting," Nigel said as they exited the main gates of Highgate Cemetery. "Tombs older than the rest of the place. Worth investigating, I'd say."

"I want to talk to this Gerald Wist fellow," Orla said. "I think we've taken long enough before learning more about this book that Iron Tusk stole."

The others concurred, and in the next day's foggy winter morning, they assembled outside the British Museum. It did not take long to locate Gerald Wist. He was happy to hear that someone was looking into the theft, though unsure of what the investigators could do. He still bore signs of the violent assault to which he had been subject.

"I've given all of this information to the police," he explained. "I'm not really sure what else I can tell you."

"Well, let's begin with the book," Nigel responded. "'The History of John Uskglass,' locked with a magical lock, and purported to be a forgery."

"Why do you think that? And who is the author, anyway?"

"Well, the author was Vittorio Mateo. That was really the first tipoff. This isn't really his sort of subject."

"Who is Vittorio Mateo?" Orla asked. "What was his sort of subject, as you say?"

"He wrote quite widely, but his preferred subject matter was planar cosmology. He was a reknowned scholar of the 14th century, and that was the second tipoff. You see, 'The History of John Uskglass' contains a number of copper plates…"

Sandor interrupted. "There were copper plates in zis book? Zis seems odd."

"No, not copper plates, per se," replied Wist, reaching for a text to use as an example. "What I'm referring to is the engravings that were reproduced in the book. They were done by etching into copper plates, and then used to create the pages that had pictures. In Mateo's time, they would have used wood cuts. The paper of the book matched Mateo's time but the engravings were 15th, maybe 16th century, long after he died."

"Why do you think it was stolen?" Sandor asked. "Where did you get ze book?"

"The book was donated to the museum by Lord Segundus, and elderly local wizard. He had inherited it from Mr. Norell."

"Who is he?" Artimis asked.

"Mr. Norell?" Wist seemd surprised at the question. "He was a very famous wizard in Napoleonic times. He disappeared some time after that. But to answer your question, I really don't understand it. I don't think the person who stole it really knew what he was doing, to be honest. There were several extremely valuable texts that were untouched. All that was taken was 'The History of John Uskglass'. I mean, for God's sake, Mr. Norell's spellbook was sitting right here! And it was left untouched!"

Wist shook his head in amazement.

"Who was the thief?" Nigel asked.

"I never saw him. He came up on me from behind, while I was examining the book."

"Aren't there guards here?" Sandor asked, bewildered. "How did they get in?"

"There is a night watch. Two guards on duty. They saw nothing until they found me."

Determining that Gerald Wist had nothing further to tell them, and was hiding no nefarious deceptions beneath his bruised countenance, the investigators returned to Highgate Cemetery equipped with rope, lanterns, torches, and spikes, in search of Vincent Gilley, assistant to Mr. Morley.

They found him with a sketchbook, drawing the designs found on some of the older headstones in the graveyard. He was a young man of some education, in opposition to Mr. Morley's more workmanlike disposition. He was pleased at the investigator's interest in the history of the cemetery.

"The older tombs? Yes, there are three or four very old tombs, a couple dating from the Picts," he explained. "The oldest are just barrows, really, quite crude."

"What about the Chenowith Mausoleum?" Artimis asked. "Sounds like there's a story behind that one."

"Ah, yes, there is indeed. From what I understand, the Chenowiths were a powerful family in Wales. The story goes that the Lord was hunting foxes, and happened by a pool of water he had not seen before that day. He met a woman there, and the stories say he either killed her, or was cursed by Faerie."

"His wife later died in childbirth, and he passed away in the late 1700's. Torn apart by wolves."

"Wolves? Ugh," Orla says. "Bad luck for him."

"Yes," Gilley answered with a wry grin. "Especially as there haven't been any wolves in England since the 17th century."

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

Well, I'm on vacation this week - heading to Savannah, Georgia to see the family (we're not originally from there, but one of my brothers lives there). This means I'm spending a lot of time in airports today (4 hour layover in Charlotte, NC - woo!) with little or nothing to do.

The good thing is, that gives me some time to work on updates! I finished one on the flight from Chicago to Charlotte, and I plan on getting another done on the flight to Savannah. Add one more possibly while on the ground in Charlotte, and another one the way back on Thursday, and I will have at least three, maybe four updates. I will certainly finish The Golden Key. I may be able to start the following episode, which I have yet to title. I can only get so far on that since I don't have all my notes with me.

Without further ado, here's an update!

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

For their second excursion into the Chenowith mausoleum, the investigators were joined by Amanda and Cass. With the strange rats and who knows what else in the caverns under the tomb, they wanted as many swords as possible.

“I think the women in this group are more dangerous than the men,” Nigel remarked to Artimis.

“That’s true of most species,” Artimis replied.

“So what do you think Amanda and Cass do when zey are not delving into tombs with us?” Sandor asked Nigel.

Nigel reflected for a moment. “Well, Cass is obviously from old money, despite the penchant for men’s clothing. Of course, odd behavior is just one piece of evidence pointing in that direction. From some of the things she’s said, he has a good grasp of English law. She’s worked for the courts in some capacity.”

“Amanda is easier to figure. The last name Higgins-Rafferty and her looks give her away on that count. Her mother is Miranda Rafferty, one of the great dames of the London theatre. The father’s side is a little more difficult to figure. Miranda Rafferty never married, but has been linked to a number of famous and powerful men. I’m going to go out on a limb here, as she has none of her mother’s natural Irish accent, and suggest that her father may be the well known professor of lingusitics, Henry Higgins.”

“Amanda is herself an actress, like her mother. Not so successful yet, I understand.”

Sandor and Artimis appeared suitably impressed by Nigel’s deductions, and as they were approaching the mausoleum, moved ahead to look for signs of any of the Green Daggers.

“How did you figure out all of that, Nigel?” Orla asked.

Nigel grinned.

“Mostly, I just asked them when we first met.”

The mausoleum was the same as when they left it the night before. There was no sign that anyone had been in or out. They used the stone key to open the secret door into the caverns below.

They made it as far as the storage room before the rats came again. This time they were more prepared, and the battle was quickly joined. There were three rat-things, each the size of a large dog, with patchy fur growing over scaly skin, and with spiny ridges along their backs.

Amanda fired an arrow from her longbow, missing the lead rat, as Artimis passed a hand over one of his many tattoos, casting an ensorcellment of some sort. From his muttered curse, it appeared to fail. Cass pulled an old single-shot pistol from her holster and fired, hitting one rat in the side, sending it scurrying backwards.

“Maybe ve can speak to it?” Sandor asked skeptically.

“Speak to it with your knife!” Artimis replied.

The rat that was shot by Cass made an odd convulsing, hacking noise, like a cat about to cough up a hairball. It vomited a stream of foul-smelling green acid at Sandor, Orla, and Nigel. Orla and Sandor were nimble enough to avoid the disgusting liquid, but Nigel was burned on his arm, and yelped in pain.

Another stream of acid was directed at Amanda, Artimis, and, again, Orla. Orla pirouhetted to avoid this as well, while Amanda and Artimis were each burned. Orla tried to skewer the rat, but her rapier was turned away by its scaly skin.

Nigel fired a shot from his longbow, hitting the lead rat, then dropped his bow and drew both of his Fir Bohlg handaxes. Amanda also attempted another shot with her bow, and missed again. She, too, threw her bow to the side and loosed her great axe. She grinned wildly as she prepared to wade into the midst of the beasts.

Artimis cast another enchantment at one of the rats, and a green ray shot from his hand, missing its target once again. Cass moved to a safe point, reloading her pistol, as Sandor flung two daggers, one finding its mark.

The rat that engaged Orla lept up at her, biting her deep on her side, while the lead rat attempted the same with Nigel, who stepped back out reach of the thing’s sharp teeth. Orla’s rapier found purchase this time, however, and the rat attacking her screamed in pain. Nigel was not so lucky, as both of his axes were turned by the creature’s hide.

Amanda lept up to the lead rat, and took one strong swing at the foul beast. It’s head came clean off it’s shoulders, and it fell. Artimis had had enough of attempting to affect the rats, and cast a spell on himself. Kendra the hawk swooped down and drew blood from one of the remaining two creatures, and they fled, haivng lost their leader.

“What in the devil’s name are these things?” Orla exclaimed.

“I christen them ‘Scaly Spiny-backed Death Rats’,” Artimis replied.

“Raticus Maleficus?” Orla answered with a grin.

“I’m not sure that’s proper Latin,” Nigel said. “In any case let’s get them before the get too far.”

The rat-things had vanished into the tunnels at the far end of the chamber, but had not been gone long. Laddie picked up their scent quickly, and happily bounded ahead, pulling Nigel along behind him. The investigators quickly found their footsteps drowned out by the sound of water. The tunnel they were headed down ended at the bottom of the waterfall. The rats were almost halfway across the shallow pool, and Nigel’s lantern revealed the ruins of some sort of structure beyond. They could make out columns in the mist beyond.

They ran out into the waist-deep water, chasing the rats. Artimis held back momentarily.

“Uh, guys,” he began, gesturing towards the pool. “Don’t forget to look out for the…”

The water around the investigators began to roil and boil, as something – multiple somethings – began to rise up out of the murky water.

“…skeletons…”

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

The skeletons that had earlier menaced Artimis rose up from the water, blocking off the investigators from their prey. Up ahead, Orla could hear a man’s voice, but could not distinguish the words. She tried to move past the walking dead blocking her path, but found it tough going. They had less bulk to create resistance in the water.

The skeletons seemed to be covered with a sparkling, mineral-like sheen. The began to spread out across the pool, moving mindlessly towards the investigators.

“Ignore them as best you can!” Nigel cried out. “If we can get past them, they’ll lose interest in us!”

“Um, will that lose interest in us?” Orla replied, pointing.

A small lizard-like creature with bat wings swooped out from behind the waterfall, its tail twitching in anticipation of a fight. Its wingspan was about eight feet, and it sported sharp claws and some rather jagged, unpleasant looking teeth. Its scales were shiny black, and a ridge of spines ran down the length of its back.

“Is that a…” Amanda began.

“…Dragon,” Artimis finished. “Yes, I think so. Small, probably very young, but definitely a dragon.”

Nigel drew an arrow from his quiver, this one adorned with crimson fletching. He had purchased it from the Artificer’s Guild with just this sort of incident in mind. As he let the arrow fly at the dragon, it burst into flame, and struck the creature solidly in its chest. The other investigators moved around the skeletons, trying to keep them at arm’s length and, for the most part, succeeding. Nigel fired another arrow at the dragon, missing this time.

The winged beast flew towards Amanda and Sandor, hovering momentarily as it breathed a blast of acid at them. Amanda avoided the worst of it, but Sandor was hit full on, and screamed out in pain. The skeletons moved in to surround the two, and to their surprise, the dragon as well. Both the dragon and the investigators, it seemed, were one and the same to the skeletal dead.

Amanda brought her axe down hard on the skelelton blocking her path to the waterfall, and as she clove its head in two, it exploded into a shower of bony shards.

“Aaah!” Sandor cried again. “Do not do zat again!”

Artimis by this point had made it to ruins on the opposite side, having avoided wasting time with the both the dragon and the skeletons. The small winged beast swooped away from the skeletons, and approached him.

Artimis picked up a small piece of wood he found laying on the stone floor.

“Here, boy,” he called out. “Here, boy! Fetch!”

He tossed the stick out into the darkness of the ruins.

The dragon cocked his head to one side, hovering in place right by him. Then it breathed a spray of acid all over him.

“Drat,” Artimis said.

Orla and Amanda had finally made it to the ruins, and with the dragon paying more attention to Artimis than perhaps was due, managed to block off its retreat. A penetrating thrust from the elfling fencing instructor, and another strong blow from the axe-wielding sometime actress brought the creature down in short order.

“Actress, huh?” Orla remarked glibly.

“My mother always said I should have something to fall back on,” Amanda replied, patting the head of her great-axe.

Orla turned to Nigel.

“That was a dragon,” she stated. “You know what that means.”

“There’s someone powerful enough down here to have a dragon as a pet,” Nigel responded.

“No,” answered Orla.

“It means treasure!”

However, search as they might, they found no gold coins or shiny gems in the columned ruin. A dejected Orla led the investigators further into the ruins. After a short the ruins became more complete, their walls painted black and adorned with swirls of paint, forming abstract shapes in black, grey, and light blues. At last, their path was blocked by a heavy oaken door.

Orla examined the portal, looking for any evidence of danger, and Amanda kicked it open. A wave of magical energy washed over the two of them, spreading a sense of dread, of defeat and impending doom. Orla shook her head as if to clear it, and stepped into the room. Amanda, clearly less sure of herself, timidly looked in after her.

The room beyond the ensorcelled doorway was large and elaborate, lit by candles and adorned with more spiralling abstract paintings. It was dominated by a large, cyclopean statue with a table in front of it, cluttered with various strange-looking objects. There was no one to be seen. There was a door on the far wall, beyond the looming statue.

“We should follow as quickly as we can,” Nigel said.

“But some of these things could be helpful to us when we catch up to those rats,” Orla replied. “We don’t even know if anyone else is down here.”

“Someone latched that door there,” Artimis replied. “The rats were distinctly lacking in the opposable thumb department.”

Orla’s argument won out, though, and the investigators approached the table cautiously. Artimis declared it to be free of apparent magical hazards. He pointed to some of the bizarre bric-a-brac.

“That necklace, with the skulls, is magical. Those three small crystals as well. Let’s see, the book, there, no not that one, the older looking one with the Latin title. That gold helmet, though, I don’t get anything from.”

Nigel looked at the helmet. As it turned out, it was not a helmet at all. It was sealed and the interior appeared to be filled with clockwork mechanisms. He turned to the books, and one of them proved to be modern in provenance, titled “Of Mechanisms and Clockwork.” The other non-magical book was blank, and also appeared to be recent vintage.

The magical one was much older, and in Latin. Artimis declared it to be full of written-down visions, but could determine nothing of its purpose.

“There’s something under the table,” Cass said, pointing. Whatever it was was the size of a small chest, and covered by a dark cloak. Artimis stepped back and looked at it.

“Don’t touch it,” he said, and passed his hand over another of his tattoos. He made a gesture with his hand, as if flipping an invisible page in a book, and the cloak flew off of the object.

It was a skull, apparently that of a dragon. It measured about five feet from nose to the end of its horns.

“I hope that means we’re not going to see Mommy Dragon here,” Amanda said.

 

[eris404]

Wow, nicely done. And while on vacation, too!

See you in a couple of weeks, Kid!

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

The investigators cautiously approached the door on the far wall. Amanda was still suffering the adverse effects of the previous door’s magical protections, and no amount of cajoling could convince her to advance beyond this one. Reluctantly, Cass led her back out of the mausoleum, leaving Artimis, Orla, Sandor, and Nigel to examine the portal.

“Do you this zis one is also trapped?” Sandor asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Artimis answered, as he flung the door open.

Either this door was not magically trapped as the previous one, or they shook off its effect. It is also possible that the investigators did not notice it, as immediately beyond the door, they were faced with a prepared force.

Iron Tusk stood about thirty feet back, twirling his iron-bound table leg in his hands with a menacing smirk. Near him stood Gwyneth, the girl from the Green Dagger house, rapier at the ready. She locked eyes with Orla and pointed her rapier at the fencing teacher. Behind them stood two other figures. One was clearly a priest of the Bastard, and was wearing a dark cassock. He was young, and sported scars on his cheek. The other was a tall, thin man, nearing seven feet in height, wrapped up in odd, buckled armor that sported an iridescent sheen. Nigel doubted that he was human. He was armed only with a curious-looking, thin dagger.

There was no need for talk. Orla immediately advanced on Gwyneth, and the thief-girl parried her first lightning fast strike. The priest stepped back from the fray, and pointed a wand in Orla’s direction. A tiny burst of energy shot out hitting her.

Iron Tusk drew out a flask of oil and applied it to his table leg while working himself into a mad frenzy. Nigel did not like the looks of that, and fired his longbow at the Orkling, hitting him solidly in the leg. Iron Tusk seemed scarcely to notice.

The iridescent-armored man made a quick gesture, and a rainbow-like burst of colors fanned out over the investigators. None of them succumbed to its hypnotic effects, and Sandor and Orla moved into position to flank Gwyneth, and Orla drew blood.

The young priest blasted Orla once again with his wand, staying away from the melee. Iron Tusk howled in primal fury, promptly tripped over a rock and dropped his table leg, and howled once again in primal frustration. Nigel took advantage of the opening, striking the Orkling twice with his axes. He drew copious amounts of blood, but Iron Tusk was in no state to care.

Gwyneth laughed at Sandor and Orla, and struck at her fellow fencer, finding a gap in Orla’s defenses and landing a grievous blow. The fencing teacher, already heavily wounded from the priest’s magical attacks, dropped to the ground, bleeding and unconscious.

The tall, iridescent-armored man stepped in near Nigel, and lashed out with his dagger. The blade was made of some sort of flexible metal, and it wrapped around one of the detective’s hand axes, and pulled it free of his grasp. Iron Tusk used the distraction to recover his table leg and brained Nigel across the back of his head, and Nigel reeled from the impact, badly hurt.

Nigel stepped back, and Laddie moved in on Iron Tusk, defending his master. Nigel looked at the wand of cure light wounds, and thought it would be best to get as much healing as possible. He drank the healing potion he had stashed away instead.

Artimis intoned a brief incantation, and moved towards Orla. Gwyneth and the priest could see him, but some magical protection prevented them from interfering as Artimis prepared to heal her.

The tall man struck at Laddie with his dagger, while Sandor flung two knives at Gwyneth, both flying wide of their target. Iron Tusk closed on Nigel and swung a mighty blow, narrowly missing. Nigel responded with an axe strike, and drew a spare axe for his off-hand.

Artimis cast a healing spell on Orla. The bleeding stopped, but she did not regain consciousness. The priest of the Bastard, sensing a small break in the battle stepped up behind Iron Tusk, and cast a healing spell of his own.

Nigel threw caution to the wind, as he and Laddie advanced on Iron Tusk. Nigel swung with each axe, landing strong blows with each hand. Iron Tusk reeled, but still menaced Nigel, who was badly hurt. Laddie ducked in under his rage-weakened defenses, and bit hard into his thigh. Iron Tusk’s eyes rolled back into his head from the pain, and fell to the floor.

Artimis looked over at Gwyneth.

“Well, if it worked before…”

He passed a hand over one of his tattoos, and pointed at Gwyneth. She fell fast asleep. Artimis chuckled.

The tall, iridescent-armored man seemed utterly unconcerned at the shift in the battle. He dispassionately gestured at Nigel, and a green ray shot from his hand, striking him in the chest. Nigel felt the strength in his limbs draining away, and nearly fell to his knees.

Sandor threw a knife at the tall man, and it found purchase in his shoulder. There was no reaction.

“Eez that thing even human?” he yelled.

Nigel healed himself of some his wounds using his magical wand, though his strength still did not return. He threw the wand across the room to Artimis, who caught it on the fly, and used it on Orla.

The fencer’s eyes slowly opened, and she sprang to her feet.

The tall man was cut off from retreat, but it did not concern him. He lept onto the wall, and scampered up it like a spider. He began crawling across the ceiling towards the dark end of the chamber. Artimis sent Kendra up to harrass him, and the strange fellow fell from the ceiling and dropped twenty feet, landing with a crash. He did not move.

The young priest ran for his life. Laddie and Orla gave chase, blocking his retreat. Nigel grabbed Iron Tusk’s table leg, and charged after him. The young man’s eyes bulged as he sa his end coming.

“I surrender!” he yelled, tossing his wand to the side. “I don’t want to die!”

 

[Matchstick]

Yikes!

Threw the wand across the room!?!?!

Phew, that was taking a bit of a chance!