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

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 2 – The Indecipherable Scroll

Vikki led them back to her home in the southwest corner of the Merchant District of Freeport. They waited while Vikki went to collect her friend.

“Are you sure she really saw Ilmarė?” asked Vlad.

Sebastian shrugged. “My compatriots in The Shield have yet to find her. We’ve run out of options.”

Beldin grunted. “I believe her,” he said. “I’m more concerned that this plan will work.”

“It’ll work,” said Vlad. They were all dressed in their finest attire. “We’re just gentlemen taking their ladies out for a walk.”

“Finn arranged for passage,” said Beldin. He tugged at the frilled collar around his neck. “We just have to get her there.”

Vikki returned with her friend. She was slender, pale, and beautiful. Both women were dressed in ball gowns.

“How do you do.” Vlad bowed. “I am Vlad Martell. This is Sebastian Arnyal and Beldin Soulforge. Would you do us the honor of allowing us to escort you to you…destination?”

Vikki tittered. Her friend was not nearly as amused.

“I am Arilee Stormcrest,” she said nervously. “Can we go now?”

“Certainly.” Vlad offered Arilee his arm. Vikki took Sebastian’s. Beldin walked ahead of them.

They walked for a while, wending their way through the streets.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m leaving Freeport?” Arilee had relaxed a bit.

“Nope,” said Vlad. “Your business is your own. I’m much more concerned for my friend. It’s not like her to disappear like that; she can take care of herself.”

Arilee took in Vlad with lowered lids. “This friend…she is your lady?”

Vlad guffawed. “No,” he said with a smile. “Just a friend. She’s not fond of humans.”

“That’s why we get along,” muttered Beldin.

“Oh.” Arilee smiled shyly.

“Well, well, well, look what we 'ave 'ere!”

Price’s voice rang out from the Freeport fog. He shined his bull’s-eye lantern at Vlad’s face. “Blimey! Look who i' is! Fancy bumpin' in'er yew on a night like dis. What yew all up to?”

Vlad felt Airlee’s grip on his arm tighten. He squeezed her hand back.

“Good to see you, Price. We’re just taking a walk to dinner at The Last Resort.”

“Is that so?” Four of the Sea Lord’s Guard accompanied Price. “Too bad abaaaht that place, what wiv da bombings an' all. They could use da business.”

“Aye,” said Vlad.

Price peered over Vlad’s shoulder. “Hello Sebastian. Thanks ter you, I got me a promoshun. I am sergean' now. You can stop a bomb at da Caaahrts any time!”

Sebastian smiled painfully. Price could be dreadfully crass.

Price shined his lantern back at Vlad. “If yew see da bi' ov elf fluff, let 'er know I'm movin' up in da world, right?”

“I will,” said Vlad. “Well, we should be off.”

“Ov caaahrse, ov caaahrse,” said Price. “See yew later then.”

They began to walk slowly, carefully away from the guardsmen.

“Hold it!” shouted Price.

They all froze.

“I nearly forgot ter tell yew! I just arrested yaaahr friend Kham.”

Beldin let out an exasperated sigh.

“He's bein' arraigned in da local caaahrts, but i' doesn't look good fer 'im. Have a nice night!”

Arilee peered over Vlad’s shoulder at the receding lamps of the guardsmen. “I thought for sure they’d recognize me!”

Vlad shrugged. “I imagine they’re looking for a desperate woman on the run, not a lady out on the town with her man.”

Arilee blushed, but Vlad couldn’t see it.

“Besides,” said Sebastian. “Price only cares about Price.”

“We’re here,” said Beldin.

The docks practically jumped up on them, such was the fog in Freeport that night. An undir woman sat in the boat, covered in a cloak.

“Hello Beldin,” said the woman. “I’ll be booking passage for your lady friend. Finn asked me to tell you that you two are now even.”

Beldin nodded. “I expect nothing less.”

The dwarf handed Arilee a bag full of her belongings.

“And now I will repay my debt to you,” said Arilee. “I saw your elf friend grabbed by a man near the Marquis Moon in the Old City. I didn’t get a good look at him, since I was worried about my…own situation at the time.”

Vlad took the note from her. “Thank you.”

Arilee got on her tiptoes to kiss Vlad on the cheek. “No, thank you,” she whispered, just for him. Then she got into the boat.

Vlad was still staring after the boat as it departed into the mists.

Beldin tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 3 – Eastward Ho!

Dusk was settling on Freeport as they headed east along the route that Ilmarė took before vanishing.

The buildings they passed were an assortment of small stores and workshops, together with the occasional inn, tavern or small residence; none particularly stood out as a place to start looking for clues.

The street bustled with merchants, servants, carts, and litters, all hurrying to get their business done before nightfall. Most people were concentrating entirely on their own affairs, but a few were simply watching or waiting.

A tall, raven-haired woman with the ready smile and emotionless eyes of a professional courtesan surveyed the passing crowd as she walked; her clothing, while provocative, was tasteful and well made, suggesting a higher class of harlot.

Vlad approached the woman. She put on a practiced smile. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“We’re looking for an Osalikene elorii woman,” said Beldin. “She has silver and purple hair.”

“I can be her if you like.” With a few arcane gestures, the woman transformed herself into a beautiful young female elorii, the mirror image of Ilmarė. “Elorii must be the current fashion; this is the second day in a row that someone has come looking for an elorii companion.”

Sebastian and Vlad exchanged worried looks.

“You’re a spitting image of her,” said Sebastian. “So you’ve obviously seen her. Where was she last?”

The woman crossed her arms and transformed back to her original form. “There are paying customers I could be spending my time with, you know.”

Vlad handed her a purse full of gold doubloons. “Fifty should do it.”

Beldin looked sideways at Vlad, but kept his mouth shut.

“Around this time yesterday, a hooded elorii man was wandering around here and asking if there were any elorii courtesans in town. I slipped off around the corner, changed my appearance, and approached the man. However, before we could strike a deal, he figured it out. He left after that, but I heard him muttering something about ‘finding one tonight’ and ‘taking her back to the Pillar.’”

“The Golden Pillar Society,” said Sebastian. “This can’t be good.”

“You Vlad Martell?” asked the courtesan.

“I am,” said Vlad. “You know of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the courtesan said with a smirk. She pulled a slip of paper out of her bodice. “I was instructed to give this note to Vlad Martell if he came looking for this elorii woman.”

Vlad took the note.

“There was someone else looking for her?” asked Sebastian. “Did you get a good look at him?”

The courtesan shrugged. “I never actually saw him; I only heard him. He paid me well to deliver the message too. As a general rule, I don’t trifle with sorcerers.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Then you shouldn’t start now.”

“We’ve got bigger problems.” Vlad finished reading the note. “The author of this note claims he knows where Ilmarė is.”

“And?” asked Beldin.

“He wants us to meet him at a warehouse.”

Sebastian sighed. “I hate warehouses.”

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 4 – The Emissary

Vlad kicked open the double doors to the small warehouse. Great heaping piles of sacks and barrels greeted them.

“All right,” shouted the Milandisian. “Where is she?”

A terrible, ropy cough echoed all around them.

“Well, you made it,” rasped the voice. “Excellent. I knew you would come. You were almost too late.”

“Show yourself!” shouted Beldin.

The coughing stopped. “You’re probably wondering where your friend is. I’ve taken her; sold her, actually. To a cult. And you’ll never get to her in time. Just as you brought a plague upon the people of Ymandragore, I’ve brought about the single best way I know to make you and your kind suffer. Tell THAT to your legionnaire friend!”

Then he began chanting a spell.

Vlad froze. “I can’t move!”

Beldin dove to the side. “I can’t see him!”

“Nor can I,” said Sebastian. “But we can fix that.” He pulled a wand out of the folds of his robe and pointed where he last heard the voice. Spiraling, wet strands of webbing blanketed the ceiling.

Someone shouted a curse above them. A struggling form could be seen, distinct in the layer of webbing.

“He’s on the ceiling!” shouted Beldin.

Sebastian bared his fangs. “Not for long. Incendiaries globus!”

A ball of flames engulfed the webbing, setting the warehouse ablaze.

“Fulgur sagitta!”

A bolt of lightning crackled from above them, surging into Beldin. The dwarf fell backwards, smoke spiraling from the tips of his beard.

“Get down!” shouted Sebastian. “Incendiaries globus!”

Another burst of flame hit the ceiling. There was a yelp as someone landed a pile of sack. A dust cloud puffed from the floor.

Slowly, a man’s body faded into sight.

Sebastian made his way over to him. He grabbed the man by his singed robes. “Who are you? Where is Ilmarė?”

“Finally,” said the Ymandrake. “Just as I had hoped. I should thank you for the privilege. Now let me return the favor.”

Vlad shook off the enchantment and joined Sebastian. “I recognize you. You’re the Commandant!”

The Commandant’s body began to convulse. “That disease you left on Ymandragore…it’s quite virulent.” He began coughing uncontrollably.

Beldin dusted himself off as he approached. “I don’t like this.”

“It seems that when I had returned to pray at the altar, something was ravaging all of Ymandragore. When I discovered who it was that had deposited that particular disease…well let’s just say the Sorcerer-King sent me to deliver a message.”

“Message?” asked Sebastian. “What message?”

“We were unable to find a cure,” said the Commandant. “So we’re letting the disease run its course…by sending every infected sorcerer to your doorstep.”

Vlad grabbed Sebastian and Beldin by the shoulders and shoved them towards the entrance. “Run!”

Sebastian half-stumbled there. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s about to—“

Then the Ymandrake exploded.

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 5 – Sewer Rats

Behind ‘The Marquis Moon’ was an old, rusted sewer grating. Though it at first appeared to be locked, the grating lifted easily.

“I thought you were a goner for a moment there, Sebastian.” Beldin clambered down into the sewers.

“So did I.” Sebastian followed him in. “I still don’t understand what happened. Why would a Ymandrake take such a special interest in us? And why did he leave us a map?”

“To make us suffer,” said Beldin. “That much was obvious.”

“The Hawk faction corrupted Augustus Tensen-Balin’s son with a magical disease.” Vlad looked away from Sebastian. “The plan was to use it as a weapon against the Sorcerer King.”

Sebastian froze. “What kind of disease?”

“A magical disease,” said Vlad. “Quintus, Ilmarė, Kham and I went on a special mission to deliver Cassicus directly to the Sorcerer-King. We succeeded.”

Sebastian rubbed his temples. “I knew that we had delivered a fatal blow to the Sorcerer-King, but I didn’t know how.”

“We faced the Commandant when we were trying to steal one of the Black Ships. We barely escaped with our lives.”

“And just how is this disease spread?”

Vlad shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. But it infects…”

“Yes?” asked Sebastian.

“Sorcerers,” said Vlad with a sigh. “It infects sorcerers.”

Sebastian slumped against the side of the sewer. “Suddenly, I don’t feel so well.”

“I’ve found something.” Beldin crouched down to pick up a dagger. “This is Ilmarė’s throwing dagger.”

As they looked around the dank and noisome tunnels, they heard a surprised yelp, followed by a grunt of pain. Almost immediately, the sounds of battle echoed from somewhere down the tunnel to their left.

Before them, a harried human warrior stood with his back to the tunnel wall at a sewer T-junction. Surrounding him are crouching figures serpent-like figures. The warrior desperately fended off their attacks with a short sword. One of the figures stood back from the melee, reaching into a small pouch at his waist and hissing some sort of rhythmic chant.

”Ssanu!” said Beldin.

“But I thought we stopped them!” said Sebastian, his voice rising. “I thought K’Stallo was educating them…”

Vlad and Beldin charged forward, weapons raised.

“Radius incensio!” Sebastian pointed both hands and scorching rays of fire spiraled through the stink of the sewers to strike the priest-like ssanu.

It fell backwards, the corpse still smoldering. The warriors made short work of the remaining ssanu, who fled upon the death of their leader.

“The name’s Mondel,” said the man. He had a haggard face, with bags under his eyes. “A fellow named Rat told me that he saw a girl being dragged through the sewers by a man. I figured if I rescued her I’d get into the Sewer Rats.”

“Sewer Rats?” asked Vlad.

“Vigilantes,” said Beldin. “They’re probably the only thing keeping the ssanu population down.”

“Rat told me the general location of where the kidnapper went,” said Mondel. “He also told me that a strange door is located in the tunnels somewhere nearby.”

The man turned and began walking back the way they came.

“Not coming with us?” asked Vlad.

“No way,” said Mondel. “This place is too dangerous and disgusting to bother. Good luck finding your friend.”

“That’s gratitude for you,” said Beldin.

Sebastian was silent.

“Sebastian?” asked Vlad. “You okay?”

The dark-kin was leaning over the corpse of the priest ssanu. He had the ssanu’s pouch in his hand, turning it over and over. “This symbol. It’s a symbol of Yig. Only it’s not Yig in her typically peaceful form. It has a word underneath it: Sskethvai. I don’t know what it means, but I do know this: the ssanu are not as disorganized as we believed.”

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 6 – The Riddle of Fire

As they rounded another corner of the tunnel, they came across an utterly unexpected sight. Set into the dank, mold-encrusted wall at the end of the tunnel was a gleaming silver door, bright and seemingly unaffected by its fetid surroundings. Set in the center of the door, at about chest height, was a large golden circle. A few lines of text were engraved within the circle.

Sebastian read it aloud. “Her father keeps us safe and warm. Her brother rides upon the storm. Her husband dwells in shadows deep. Her child's promise you must keep. STATE HER NAME AND QUENCH THE FLAME.” He turned back to his companions. “Anyone?”

“I have no idea,” said Vlad.

Beldin was studying the nearby wall. “There’s a door here.” He pushed on the wall and a section depressed and slid away, revealing a narrow flight of stairs.

“Well, let’s see if whoever owns these steps knows the answer to the riddle,” said Sebastian. He climbed the steps and the others followed.

The stairs ended in a blank stone wall. Beldin felt around and easily opened yet another secret door. To…

“Somebody’s cellar?” asked Vlad in surprise.

Sebastian sighed. There were more steps leading up.

They followed the corridor into a living room. A man had his back to them. He was pouring himself a generous straight whiskey.

“Ah yes, you’ve come about the obituary then? Please, have a seat.”

Vlad and Sebastian looked at each other. Sebastian shrugged and sat down.

“I assume you found me through my statement about Quelch. I hope you haven’t come to talk about that shopkeeper. I put down all I needed to say in those few words in the rag.”

He was a large elorii with a shaved head, heavy features, and black eyes.

“Yes, I read your obituary about Elijah Quelch” said Sebastian. “You must be Perdubo. If I remember my High Coryani correctly, it means: I will last through. You’re Talathiel of the Golden Pillar Society.”

Talathiel inclined his head slightly. “Indeed.”

“Now it all makes sense.” Sebastian’s mind was going a mile a minute. “You mentioned a Montague Edwards in the obituary…”

“Ah yes, I know Edwards,” said Talathiel. “I myself am a Laird, you know. Edwards claims to be a Laird himself, of Libertyville no less, but I don’t believe it. I knew Edwards from the Golden Pillar Society, where he called himself Vox Mutatis. An ambitious man. Nasty, I’d say. Or perhaps that’s the same thing. Anyway, gives black magic a bad name.” Talaiel gives a pained little smile. “I did receive a letter from him once. It was only when I got a little famous that he sought me out, trying to impress me with his title. Do you think he was going to offer me a job? Maybe I should have replied.”

Beldin stood up. “I’m getting tired of this.” The dwarf pulled his axe from his belt. “Tell us where Ilmarė is or I will chop you in half.”

“Excuse me?”

Sebastian rose to his feet and leveled a wand at Talathiel’s head. “There’s a door in your cellar. And that cellar leads to steps. And those steps lead to another door with a riddle. Our friend is in danger and we’re in a bit of a hurry, so if you’d be so kind as to tell open the door for us, we can all get back to our lives.”

“Are you threatening me?” asked Talathiel indignantly.

Vlad rose to his feet. “No, he was being polite.” Vlad took some rope from a belt pouch and shoved Talathiel to his knees. “I’M threatening you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” said Talathiel. He seemed completely unaffected by the whole situation. “And if I’m guilty of having a door in my home, then so is all of Freeport.”

“It’s what’s behind the door that we need to find out.” They marched him back towards the cellar.

Several servants watched them go. “Are you all right, master?”

“It’s fine,” said Talathiel. “We’re just going for a walk.”

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Part 7 – Den of Debauchery

“Larissa!” shouted Talathiel.

The door cooled and shrank slightly. Vlad threw Talathiel on the ground. “Stay there.”

Beldin kicked the door open.

Several figures jumped up in shock at their sudden entrance, caught in the midst of the Sacraments of Larissa. Several of the figures wore theatrical golden masks that hid their features, and clothing designed to reveal more than it concealed.

The inhabitants' attention appeared to be focused on one particular couple: a striking woman with long dark red hair and a lithe body, and her partner, an immensely tall, well-muscled man with a topknot, whose skin is covered in strange tattoos. The man remained masked, and held the only obvious weapon in the room – a whip.

He takes a step back as, but the woman walked towards Vlad, seeming to grow more sensuous as she regained her composure. She wore the holy symbol of Larissa – a golden coin suspended from a fine silver chain – and very little else.

“Welcome to the Golden Pillar Society,” said the woman. “Would you like to join our exclusive club dedicated to pleasure? The cost is but five gold doubloons a night.” She looked Vlad up and down. “I’m willing to waive the fee for you though, handsome.”

Vlad swallowed hard.

“Where’s Ilmarė?” snarled Beldin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the woman. “If you won’t join in the fun and frolics, maybe you should leave us in peace to do as we wish. We’re not hurting anyone, after all.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Sebastian. He looked around the room. “We’re going to search this place.”

The woman’s tone shifted from seductive to vicious. “Oh I don’t think you will. Do you know who I am? I’m Letah Calame, daughter of C.Q. Calame.”

“The owner of The Shipping News?” asked Vlad. “You’re joking, right?”

“It’s no joke,” snarled Letah. “If you keep this nonsense up my father will RUIN YOU! Now GET. OUT!”

Sebastian crossed his arms, a wand still in one hand. “I don’t think so. I think that your father wouldn’t be too pleased to let word get out about your…activities. Vlad, Beldin, tear this place apart.”

There was a shout, and a man launched himself from the curtains on one side of the room, landing his foot squarely in Vlad’s chest. Vlad fell backwards in surprise.

The ten middle-aged Golden Pillar members grabbed their clothes ran screaming from the room. Letah ran into the corner of the room and dove under the bed.

Beldin faced down the masked man with the whip. The whip cracked over his head, sparking off of his shield.

“Whip dagger,” growled Beldin. “Let’s see how you fare against an axe.”

Vlad was back on his feet. He faced down the unarmed man, who slid into a combat stance. “You’re disarmed,” said Vlad. “Give up.”

The man skipped forward on one foot and snap-kicked Vlad again under the chin, followed by two rapid punches to the inside of left arm. He dropped his shield.

“Don’t hurt the girl,” said Sebastian. “We need her alive! Radius incensio!”

Spiraling flames shot towards the masked man. They fizzled a few inches from his face.

Sebastian took a step back. “Careful! That’s no ordinary man!”

Beldin hacked at the masked figure. It backhanded him effortlessly, sending the dwarf flying. Then he pointed at Vlad.

“Go untie Talathiel.”

Sebastian smirked. “Your mind tricks won’t affect me, demon.”

Vlad picked up his sword. Then he nodded and walked back the way they came.

“Damn it!” shouted Sebastian. “Medicates privatus!”

Vlad paused.

“Don’t listen to the demon!” shouted Sebastian, frustrated. “Kill the monk!”

Vlad blinked, clearing his head.

Beldin faced down the monk. The dwarf’s shorter stature made it difficult for the monk to find an opening. He swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing the monk to jump over the blade.

The monk slumped to the ground. Vlad stood over the man’s corpse.

A whip whistled around Vlad’s neck. He dropped his sword and shield, struggling to release the whip from around his throat.

Beldin took a step forward, closing on the demon.

There was a loud pop, and a reddish-black spider with dripping fangs appeared. Then a fire-breathing hound. Then a man-sized buzzing wasp.

“Fire…ball…” croaked Vlad. He fell to his knees. The demon was slowly pulling him backwards into the slavering jaws of the spider. Beldin was preoccupied with the hellhounds.

“What?” said Sebastian. “But it’s a crowded room.”

“Do…it!” gurgled Vlad. He reached his fingertips out for Grungronazharr…

“Are you sure?”

The giant wasp’s stinger struck again and again around Beldin’s shield. “WE’RE SURE!”

Sebastian took a step back out of the doorway. “I’d get out of the path of the doorway, if I were you,” he said to Talathiel.

Talathiel rolled aside.

“Incendiaries globus!”

 

[talien]

The Seventh Sin: Conclusion

The room was a smoking wreck. And still the masked demon stood at its center, unaffected.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Vlad.

Letah struggled out from the burning bed.

The masked man turned to Letah. In the smoothest, silkiest, and most seductive male voice they had ever heard, it said, “Good luck.” Then it disappeared.

“Enough of this.” Sebastian stalked over to Letah. “Tell us where Ilmarė is.” He pointed a wand at her forehead. “Now.”

Letah said nothing. She just started sobbing.

“I found her!” shouted Vlad. He emerged from one of burning curtains with the elorii. She was unconscious and half-naked, but otherwise unharmed.

“Well, isn’t dis a busy day?” came Price’s voice from the doorway. “What yew all up to?” He was accompanied by five guardsmen.

Sebastian pointed an accusing finger at Letah. “This woman kidnapped our friend.” He pointed his wand at Talathiel. “And this man was harboring a sex cult.”

The men guffawed.

Letah’s crying became a piteous wail. “The demon seduced me!” she shrieked. “It made me do terrible, horrible things!”

“It's all right luv, we'll take yew back ter yaaahr daddy,” said Price. Talathiel stood patiently in the background, flanked by two guardsmen. “The things kids do deese days.” For a moment, genuine concerned flashed over Price’s ugly mug. “Is the bit o’ fluff okay?””

“She’ll be fine.” Sebastian shook his head. “No thanks to you.”

Price brought Letah to his feet, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll take it from here, guv.” Letah looked at price with tear-streaked eyes. “We’ll be sure ter brin' da perpetrators ter justice.” He winked back at her.

The guardsmen marched out. Vlad slapped his forehead.

Price paused at the doorway. “Got some news abaaaht yaaahr friends. That Roby chap was murdered, along wit’ two guards, Michael Evans and Thomas Clarke. A shame, good chaps both.” He turned around, whistling to himself. “Have a good day!”

“I found some gold and a wand back there,” said Beldin. “But I thought it best if we kept that to ourselves.” He handed the wand over to Sebastian.

Sebastian’s lip curled in disgust. “This wand is used in rituals to animate the dead.”

Vlad looked down at Ilmarė. She was blissfully unconscious. “What exactly were they planning to do with her?”

Then Sebastian coughed.

 

[talien]

Chapter 34: The Belly of the Beast - Introduction

This is an adventure set in the Freeport setting, "Black Sails Over Freeport," written by William Simoni. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
• Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer

I did something different with this session, running two adventures simultaneously. What happens in this thread is that Kham’s past finally catches up to him. Although it might not be immediately obvious, there are greater forces at work manipulating events, both for and against Kham. Believe it or not, this is a spiritual journey as much as it is a physical one, and it requires quite a bit of suffering for our favorite val to come out on the other side, sanity and health intact.

The hulks as described here are based off of the actual hulks used in Victorian England. As a result, they’re a lot more strict than the description in Freeport (which basically makes them big, hollowed out slums). In reality, the hulks were a source of cheap labor, which is why they were kept around for so long even though the conditions were horrible.

I also used Dragon magazine’s article on prisons, which proved very useful in creating a guard framework and routine. With the descriptions of the ships, the dwarven guards, and a blow-by-blow detail of what life was like in the hulks, the setting was ripe for a prison break.

Fortunately, Sebastian had a plan.

 

[talien]

Belly of the Beast: Prologue

It was cold outside and the bedroom window stood wide open. The curtains sighed into the room. Kham watched himself sleeping, wrapping the sheets more tightly around his shoulders. They were ripped, shredded into long streamers.

Cold metal touched his lips. “Swallow this,” came Touldrix’s voice. “You’ll thank me later.”

He swallowed a solid lump that felt heavy in his stomach. When he rose from bed, the Undir was nowhere to be seen.

Kham stumbled out of the room. Along unfamiliar corridors and across large chambers, he noticed marble, carpet, pass glass, velvet hangings, brick and porcelain, oil, and gold wood.

“It’s all a distraction,” he muttered. “All a distraction.”

There was a mask on the wall. He took it up, put it on. Then he saw Fleshripper and, without hesitation, picked it up.

The robe of tattered cotton played out behind him, lending Kham a dignity commensurate with his task.

And then he saw someone in a side corridor watching him. It was his doppelganger, eager and worried, only it looked more feral and hungry, with bright red eyes, sharp fangs, and a long gray tongue…

Suddenly furious, Kham hurried over, gripping Fleshripper tightly.

“You think you can stand in judgment over me?” he shrieked. “You think this has nothing to do with you?!” He wondered just what it was he was capable of. “It is my crown! Mine!”

Kham whirled forward, Fleshripper singing. Attack and defense were contrived and inexpert as they separated. But blood bloomed thickly on his arm. Kham held the wound and watched his double raise Fleshripper again…

Then the floor slammed into his chin. Something cold and hard snapped around his wrists.

“Pretty penny for you, mate,” came Price’s thickly accented voice, floating somewhere above his head. “Nothin’ personal.”

Only then did it occur to Kham that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

 

[talien]

Belly of the Beast: Part 1 – The Guard Office

The Guard Office was an ill-ventilated, confined, somber-looking place. There was a great want of room in the Office, considering the amount of the business that had to be transacted. It was crowded to suffocation, to the great annoyance of every one who had occasion to be present.

Kham was dragged into his cell, and was sorry as soon as he arrived. The cells in the station house were narrow, damp, dark, and cold.

His fellow prisoners ranged from citizens moving in the higher walks of life to the humblest of mankind. There were persons of every shade of character, all fallen low because of the allure of Ghoul Juice and its addictive qualities.

Their appearance exhibited as much variety as their moral character. There was the tastefully dressed man of fashion, and the poor mendicant, wrapped up in a mass of dirty rags. There were some, both men and women, whose apparel, at the best, had only been of a humble description. There were others who were elegantly attired from the previous night, whose clothes were either torn to tatters, or covered over with mud. Hats without crowns, and minus the greater part of their brims to boot; coats converted, by the tails being torn off, into jackets; straw and silk bonnets transformed into shapes which the milliners that made them never intended; shawls and gowns either torn into fragments, or affording abundant evidence that their wearers had recently been paying their respects to the pavement.

Because there was no room, Kham was shoved into a cell with another occupant. He was a thin man with a small belly that jutted out around his trousers; he had a wild head of gray-brown coarse hair, a scrubby beard and moustache, and very protuberant ears.

“There’s no room, Mr. val’Abebi,” said the man with a smirk. “The juicers are keeping the Guard busy these days. My name’s Wilfred Gresty. Glad you could join me.”

Kham grunted. “Gonna wake up soon,” he mumbled.

“I need to thank you for the murder of Quelch,” said Gresty. “The word on the street is that you took care of him. I am sure it was hard to do, but he was a wicked man. I know where to put trust and it was put well with you in this matter.”

Kham curled up on the floor.

Gresty smiled a gap-toothed smile. “Now that we’re cell mates, we should know each other better. I am from the west country, but Freeport has been my home for ten years now.” He nodded towards the drug addicts in the other cells. “It’s a chamber pot: pretty at a glance, but full of filth and stink.”

“Gotta leave,” mumbled Kham.

“You’d be well advised to do so, Mr. val’Abebi, although I fear these kind associates of ours won’t let you. As for me, I hope to go home soon to inherit.”

Kham rolled over. Gresty took the feeble movement as encouragement to keep talking.

“I am to take Atkinson’s place when the old man dies. He cannot live two years at most. He says I am here for the Goat. But he owes me too and I will be paid what he owes me. The woman at Nug’s Farm, well Mr. Carbo’s wife…the old man never had her. The child is not his.” Gresty giggled. “I laugh when I think he can make things wilder than dreams and blacker than nightmares but he cannot climb into her bed. How his old loins must itch when he thinks of her.”

“Women…got me into this mess in the first place.”

Gresty waved the notion away. “So first we must play the last cards with Edwards and the King he follows. Edwards needs Mr. Roby and if he gets him there will be hell to pay. Worse I think, for hell is a weak imagining.”

“Lucius’ case is coming up soon,” said Kham. “Real soon…don’t think he’s going anywhere.”

“Edwards will call on me too. He needs me. I will not answer.”

“Like when Quelch called for Coombs before.” Kham sat up, rubbed his eyes. “You’re the same Gresty who wrote me that note.”

Gresty nodded. “The world’s unstable now. The King in Yellow is coming to Arcanis, and I’m the only one who knows how to stop him. We must call on…” he looked over his shoulder at the other prisoners in the adjoining cells, “the Old Gods.”

Kham tried not to look at Gresty. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I cut mouths in my hands.” Gresty held up his hands, which were bandaged but bloody from the gashes right across the palms. “And I went to the old Altherian temple. That temple sits there, growing fat sucking on the plague pits, pulling up power like the ssanu did from their own death pits. I went to make my appeal to our Old Gods. I called on Tizzhet, the Black Goat of the Woods, to leave the greensward to bring her Thousand Young.”

“Althares’ ass,” said Kham. “You’re one of those.”

Gresty chuckled nastily and pulled out a whistle. “And I blew this for the last time, so Hastur knows that I am leaving the city. “ He yanked on it, breaking the string, and hurled the whistle away from him into a corner of the cell, spitting after it. “Then that man came in and he started blabbering about Althares. Ha! In that place!” He starts laughing helplessly.

“What man?” asked Kham.

“Mr. Egil Thompson,” said Gresty.

“Great.” Kham sighed. “Just great.”