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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
- Thread starter talien
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talien
Community Supporter
Belly of the Beast: Part 9 – Aggro
One day blurred into the next. Kham quickly became caught up in the routine. The arrival of new prisoners was always an event.
The orc that was dragged on board that morning was different than the rest, primarily due to his hulking size. He had a gray tinge to him, but it was his rippling muscles that distinguished the beast. He wore no shoes, and his great clawed feet splayed on the deck like deformed lobsters. Kham recognized those feet.
“Aggro!” shouted Scarbelly during dinner. They were eating gruel. “What ye be doing here?”
Aggro flashed Scarbelly a sly grin. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “I come t’ bring ye a message. We’re going t’ make a break for it.”
“When?” asked Kham.
“Tomorrow,” said Aggro. “It took awhile for t’ courts to arraign me.”
“What’d ye do?” asked Scarbelly.
Aggro shrugged. “I kept beatin’ guards in the face until a bunch of ‘em knocked me out.”
Scarbelly snorted. “And where’d ye get that new scar?”
Aggro had a jagged pink scar that zig-zagged its way down his bare chest. “Ah, this? I got it fightin’ that fuzzy stumper friend of yers,” he poked Kham in the chest with one dirty fingernail. “He be all orc on t’ inside.”
Kham couldn’t suppress his own grin. “Especially if you call Beldin a fuzzy stumper. So I take it there’s some intelligence behind this plan?”
Aggro nodded. “All the orcs are workin’ together.”
One of the guards walked towards them. Aggro made them nervous.
“I’ll tell ye more tomorrow.”
One day blurred into the next. Kham quickly became caught up in the routine. The arrival of new prisoners was always an event.
The orc that was dragged on board that morning was different than the rest, primarily due to his hulking size. He had a gray tinge to him, but it was his rippling muscles that distinguished the beast. He wore no shoes, and his great clawed feet splayed on the deck like deformed lobsters. Kham recognized those feet.
“Aggro!” shouted Scarbelly during dinner. They were eating gruel. “What ye be doing here?”
Aggro flashed Scarbelly a sly grin. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “I come t’ bring ye a message. We’re going t’ make a break for it.”
“When?” asked Kham.
“Tomorrow,” said Aggro. “It took awhile for t’ courts to arraign me.”
“What’d ye do?” asked Scarbelly.
Aggro shrugged. “I kept beatin’ guards in the face until a bunch of ‘em knocked me out.”
Scarbelly snorted. “And where’d ye get that new scar?”
Aggro had a jagged pink scar that zig-zagged its way down his bare chest. “Ah, this? I got it fightin’ that fuzzy stumper friend of yers,” he poked Kham in the chest with one dirty fingernail. “He be all orc on t’ inside.”
Kham couldn’t suppress his own grin. “Especially if you call Beldin a fuzzy stumper. So I take it there’s some intelligence behind this plan?”
Aggro nodded. “All the orcs are workin’ together.”
One of the guards walked towards them. Aggro made them nervous.
“I’ll tell ye more tomorrow.”
talien
Community Supporter
Belly of the Beast: Part 10a – The Rescue
At length one o'clock sounded. At five minutes past a guard went down the gangway with fixed bayonets, followed by one of the principal warders.
"Now, then, turn the hands out, Mr. Webb, and man the gig!" was shouted.
In a few minutes the prisoners began to stream up the deck from the hatchways, and to move down the gangway in single file, to the cutters, as they had in the morning.
"Oars up, here! Oars up!" shouted the guard in the cutter to the rowers, as the first prisoners reached the water's edge. The boat carrying the guards, their bayonets sparkling in the sun, and some officers too, was already off to receive the men on shore.
All the prisoners were arranged along both sides of the ship, chained to each other in two long lines. The iron golem stood watch at the center. The ship was already heavy enough with all the prisoners.
Two red-cloaked captains stood watch at either side of the boat, while several guards kept the prisoners in line. Also enforcing the authority of the captains were two wand guards, who wielded dragon-shaped pistols that spat lightning. And all the while, Clank’s menacing shadow reminded everyone that no disobedience would be tolerated.
Aggro was on the opposite side of Kham and Scarbelly, rowing along with a pair of nervous-looking humans to either side of the hulking orc. Aggro whispered something to the prisoner beside him, who passed it on to another prisoner, who passed it another in turn.
“It’s happening.” Kham took the two rings out of his shoe and put them on. “Get ready.”
Scarbelly nodded and kept rowing.
The whispers made their way around the rowers. Until it got to Krysos.
Krysos nodded. He slowly turned around. Kham caught his gaze.
Krysos smiled.
“MUTINY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s a mutiny!” He stopped rowing and stood up to point at Kham. “The val’s trying to make a run for it!”
Black clouds of smoke appeared by the wand guards and in front of the golem. Clank lumbered over towards Kham, only to slide forward as magical grease slicked a path right off the side of the ship.
The prisoners on Aggro’s side dipped their oars hard in the water while the prisoners on Kham’s side let go of their oars and leaned to. The net effect was that the boat rocked hard.
Clank’s bulk, normally an advantage in intimidating a prisoner, was a liability. It smashed right through the deck rail and over the edge.
“The Bloody Vengeance!” shouted Scarbelly. Standing at the bow of the legendary ship of captain Drak Scarbelly was a slim, feminine form. It was Ilmarė.
With the aid of his ring, Kham easily slipped free of the manacles.
All hell broke loose. The prisoners shouted and hooted, some trying to free themselves from the chains, others cowering. Lighting blasts and flintlocks fired across the deck. A blast of flames engulfed the center of the deck, setting it on fire and incinerating some of the guards.
Shimmering forms became distinct as Beldin, Vlad, and Sebastian dropped their invisibility.
A thunderous cannonade echoed across the ocean. The Bloody Vengeance let loose a full barrage of cannon fire.
“They’re firing on us?” shouted Kham. “Why are they firing on us?”
Scarbelly looked like a proud father. “This be how orcs stage a rescue!”
There was a high-pitched whine near the deck rail. Kham looked down.
“Ah crap,” said Kham. The chain had snared on Clank and was shrieking through the many iron rings that bound the men to each other. Including Scarbelly.
Kham sighed and looped one foot around the length of chain before it snapped taut. He took a deep breath.
Then one by one, Kham, Scarbelly, and all the prisoners on their side of the deck were yanked into the sea.
At length one o'clock sounded. At five minutes past a guard went down the gangway with fixed bayonets, followed by one of the principal warders.
"Now, then, turn the hands out, Mr. Webb, and man the gig!" was shouted.
In a few minutes the prisoners began to stream up the deck from the hatchways, and to move down the gangway in single file, to the cutters, as they had in the morning.
"Oars up, here! Oars up!" shouted the guard in the cutter to the rowers, as the first prisoners reached the water's edge. The boat carrying the guards, their bayonets sparkling in the sun, and some officers too, was already off to receive the men on shore.
All the prisoners were arranged along both sides of the ship, chained to each other in two long lines. The iron golem stood watch at the center. The ship was already heavy enough with all the prisoners.
Two red-cloaked captains stood watch at either side of the boat, while several guards kept the prisoners in line. Also enforcing the authority of the captains were two wand guards, who wielded dragon-shaped pistols that spat lightning. And all the while, Clank’s menacing shadow reminded everyone that no disobedience would be tolerated.
Aggro was on the opposite side of Kham and Scarbelly, rowing along with a pair of nervous-looking humans to either side of the hulking orc. Aggro whispered something to the prisoner beside him, who passed it on to another prisoner, who passed it another in turn.
“It’s happening.” Kham took the two rings out of his shoe and put them on. “Get ready.”
Scarbelly nodded and kept rowing.
The whispers made their way around the rowers. Until it got to Krysos.
Krysos nodded. He slowly turned around. Kham caught his gaze.
Krysos smiled.
“MUTINY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s a mutiny!” He stopped rowing and stood up to point at Kham. “The val’s trying to make a run for it!”
Black clouds of smoke appeared by the wand guards and in front of the golem. Clank lumbered over towards Kham, only to slide forward as magical grease slicked a path right off the side of the ship.
The prisoners on Aggro’s side dipped their oars hard in the water while the prisoners on Kham’s side let go of their oars and leaned to. The net effect was that the boat rocked hard.
Clank’s bulk, normally an advantage in intimidating a prisoner, was a liability. It smashed right through the deck rail and over the edge.
“The Bloody Vengeance!” shouted Scarbelly. Standing at the bow of the legendary ship of captain Drak Scarbelly was a slim, feminine form. It was Ilmarė.
With the aid of his ring, Kham easily slipped free of the manacles.
All hell broke loose. The prisoners shouted and hooted, some trying to free themselves from the chains, others cowering. Lighting blasts and flintlocks fired across the deck. A blast of flames engulfed the center of the deck, setting it on fire and incinerating some of the guards.
Shimmering forms became distinct as Beldin, Vlad, and Sebastian dropped their invisibility.
A thunderous cannonade echoed across the ocean. The Bloody Vengeance let loose a full barrage of cannon fire.
“They’re firing on us?” shouted Kham. “Why are they firing on us?”
Scarbelly looked like a proud father. “This be how orcs stage a rescue!”
There was a high-pitched whine near the deck rail. Kham looked down.
“Ah crap,” said Kham. The chain had snared on Clank and was shrieking through the many iron rings that bound the men to each other. Including Scarbelly.
Kham sighed and looped one foot around the length of chain before it snapped taut. He took a deep breath.
Then one by one, Kham, Scarbelly, and all the prisoners on their side of the deck were yanked into the sea.
talien
Community Supporter
Belly of the Beast: Part 10b – The Rescue
Water rushed past him. At first, it was impossible to make out anything but bubbles. Then Kham was able to slowly make out the forms of the other prisoners, all of them churning helpless in the water above and below him.
Kham felt his way down to Scarbelly. Kham easily freed himself from the chain around his leg.
Scarbelly stared at him, unsure of what he was doing.
Kham pointed at his own hand, then pointed at Scarbelly. Scarbelly lifted his hand.
Kham took the ring off and put it on the orc’s gnarled hand. Instantly, he was free and floating upwards.
Kham let go of the chain. He couldn’t help but look down. The men disappeared into the inky darkness like a discarded charm bracelet, doomed to drowning with Clank as their anchor.
Then he was at the surface. The boat that the prisoners were rowing was going down. Hands yanked him up out of the water.
Kham looked up, sputtering, from the bottom of the rowboat. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“You’re not,” said Ilmarė. Orcs rowed to either side of her.
Kham stretched out and put his hands behind his head to stare up at the sun, a free man once more. “It’s good to be back,” he said with a smile.
Water rushed past him. At first, it was impossible to make out anything but bubbles. Then Kham was able to slowly make out the forms of the other prisoners, all of them churning helpless in the water above and below him.
Kham felt his way down to Scarbelly. Kham easily freed himself from the chain around his leg.
Scarbelly stared at him, unsure of what he was doing.
Kham pointed at his own hand, then pointed at Scarbelly. Scarbelly lifted his hand.
Kham took the ring off and put it on the orc’s gnarled hand. Instantly, he was free and floating upwards.
Kham let go of the chain. He couldn’t help but look down. The men disappeared into the inky darkness like a discarded charm bracelet, doomed to drowning with Clank as their anchor.
Then he was at the surface. The boat that the prisoners were rowing was going down. Hands yanked him up out of the water.
Kham looked up, sputtering, from the bottom of the rowboat. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“You’re not,” said Ilmarė. Orcs rowed to either side of her.
Kham stretched out and put his hands behind his head to stare up at the sun, a free man once more. “It’s good to be back,” he said with a smile.
talien
Community Supporter
Belly of the Beast: Conclusion
The Bloody Vengeance was a crudely built orc ship, roughly ninety feet long. It was battle-scarred but seaworthy. The ship sailed hard away from Freeport.
Drak Scarbelly appeared in full captain’s regalia, once again the master of his own ship. He smiled at Prolk, the old orc hag who had helped coordinate the orcs to rescue him. “Ye did well.”
Prolk bowed her head slightly.
Rask, the orc wizard with his floppy hat and staff, approached Scarbelly. “We haven’t found Aggro,” he said.
Scarbelly chuckled. “He’ll be along.”
Krysos Boz’s head bounced across the deck. Then Aggro clambered up over the deck, dripping seawater. “Sorry I be late,” he muttered. “I had t’ settle a score.”
Beldin, Sebastian, and Vlad joined Kham and Ilmarė on the Bloody Vengeance’s deck. The rest of the orcs were far too busy to watch the spectacle, as they set to work manning the guns. They had to put a lot of distance between them and Freeport.
“And now,” said Scarbelly, “since ye fulfilled yer end of the bargain, I’ll fulfill mine.” The orc captain hit himself in the stomach with his fist a few times. His stomach gurgled and then there he let loose a roaring burp that shivered the rafters.
“Nice,” muttered Ilmarė.
Scarbelly spat something onto the deck. It was a palm-sized sextant. Inscribed on its back was a tentacled skull with five stars over its head.
“That be me proof o’ me lineage to the line o’ Drac,” said Scarbelly. “Take good care ‘o it.”
Kham picked it up. “Thanks.” He took a deep breath of sea air. It smelled…clean.
“We’re glad to have you both back.” Vlad clapped Ilmarė and Kham on the back.
“Both of us?” Kham looked askance at Ilmarė.
Ilmarė shot him a steely glare. “Don’t ask,” she muttered.
Scarbellly stood at the bow of his ship, surveying the open ocean. The possibilities seemed limitless. Sebastian came up beside him.
“Where to?” asked Scarbelly.
“Libertyville,” said Sebastian. “We’ve got our own score to settle.”
The Bloody Vengeance was a crudely built orc ship, roughly ninety feet long. It was battle-scarred but seaworthy. The ship sailed hard away from Freeport.
Drak Scarbelly appeared in full captain’s regalia, once again the master of his own ship. He smiled at Prolk, the old orc hag who had helped coordinate the orcs to rescue him. “Ye did well.”
Prolk bowed her head slightly.
Rask, the orc wizard with his floppy hat and staff, approached Scarbelly. “We haven’t found Aggro,” he said.
Scarbelly chuckled. “He’ll be along.”
Krysos Boz’s head bounced across the deck. Then Aggro clambered up over the deck, dripping seawater. “Sorry I be late,” he muttered. “I had t’ settle a score.”
Beldin, Sebastian, and Vlad joined Kham and Ilmarė on the Bloody Vengeance’s deck. The rest of the orcs were far too busy to watch the spectacle, as they set to work manning the guns. They had to put a lot of distance between them and Freeport.
“And now,” said Scarbelly, “since ye fulfilled yer end of the bargain, I’ll fulfill mine.” The orc captain hit himself in the stomach with his fist a few times. His stomach gurgled and then there he let loose a roaring burp that shivered the rafters.
“Nice,” muttered Ilmarė.
Scarbelly spat something onto the deck. It was a palm-sized sextant. Inscribed on its back was a tentacled skull with five stars over its head.
“That be me proof o’ me lineage to the line o’ Drac,” said Scarbelly. “Take good care ‘o it.”
Kham picked it up. “Thanks.” He took a deep breath of sea air. It smelled…clean.
“We’re glad to have you both back.” Vlad clapped Ilmarė and Kham on the back.
“Both of us?” Kham looked askance at Ilmarė.
Ilmarė shot him a steely glare. “Don’t ask,” she muttered.
Scarbellly stood at the bow of his ship, surveying the open ocean. The possibilities seemed limitless. Sebastian came up beside him.
“Where to?” asked Scarbelly.
“Libertyville,” said Sebastian. “We’ve got our own score to settle.”
talien
Community Supporter
Chapter 35: To Walk on Arcanis in Carcosa - Introduction
This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, “Tatters of the King” by Tim Wiseman, adapted for the Freeport setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
Due to my own stupidity and complications with Invitations, Free eCards and Party Planning Ideas from Evite, the invitation about gaming got screwed up. As a result, only two players were present.
Fortunately, this is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, which means it’s much more about decision-making and much less about combat. In fact, I had to heavily revise the adventure so combat would take place and then, when we didn’t have enough players, I played it very close to the original version. Now that I think about it, there was actually only one combat in the whole session!
Anyway, this adventure wraps up two major plot points…by killing them. It’s also my deus ex machina to dump our heroes into the next adventure. Oh how I love portals!
This is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, “Tatters of the King” by Tim Wiseman, adapted for the Freeport setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
Due to my own stupidity and complications with Invitations, Free eCards and Party Planning Ideas from Evite, the invitation about gaming got screwed up. As a result, only two players were present.
Fortunately, this is a Call of Cthulhu adventure, which means it’s much more about decision-making and much less about combat. In fact, I had to heavily revise the adventure so combat would take place and then, when we didn’t have enough players, I played it very close to the original version. Now that I think about it, there was actually only one combat in the whole session!
Anyway, this adventure wraps up two major plot points…by killing them. It’s also my deus ex machina to dump our heroes into the next adventure. Oh how I love portals!
talien
Community Supporter
To Walk in Carcosa: Prologue
It was the middle of the night when Dril opened the front door to an unassuming terraced cottage. It was empty.
Price shoved past him. “I don’t know what da big deal is. So people got killed in The Tombs. Happens all da time.”
Dril examined the floor. “We’ve been over this: Grahame Roby asserted without a doubt that the corpse was not Lucius Roby’s; it lacks a scar on the upper arm that Lucius acquired as a youth.”
“Right, so that means what one ov da two bodies was Thomas Clarke. Good chap, terrible thin' ter 'appen ter 'im. But what doesn’t mean we need ter be all searchin' Evans’ 'ome. I say we let da dead stay dead.”
The Altherian paused at one point in the floor. “You hear that?”
Price cocked his head. “What?”
“The floorboards. They stopped squeaking. Shine your lantern over here.”
Price focused his bull’s-eye lantern at the spot by Dril’s foot.
The floorboards were a darker color than the rest, spongy and moist.
Dril leaned down on one knee. “I’m not convinced that Alexander Harriwell killed anybody; he was straight-jacketed in his cell. And killing three grown men, two of them the Sea Lord’s Guard, is no simple task.” Dril wiped one finger along the board and sniffed it. “This is blood.”
“Then that’s an awful lot ov blood,” said Price. He put the lamp down on the floor to get a closer look. The beam splayed across the wall.
Dril walked over to the front door. He bent down to pick up a piece of mail on the mat.
“Interesting,” said Dril. “One of these letters is a tailor’s bill addressed to Michael Evans. The other is addressed to…Montague Edwards!”
When Price didn’t response, Dril added, “Don’t you see? This connects Evans to Edwards. Montague Edwards kidnapped Roby and made it look like a double murder to throw us off the track. He’s…Price?”
Dril turned around. “Price?”
Price had stopped talking. He stood, transfixed, beaming the lantern along the wall.
The lantern slowly revealed words painted in blood: “Seven days for his work, five for mine.”
Dril ran out the door to warn his companions.
It was the middle of the night when Dril opened the front door to an unassuming terraced cottage. It was empty.
Price shoved past him. “I don’t know what da big deal is. So people got killed in The Tombs. Happens all da time.”
Dril examined the floor. “We’ve been over this: Grahame Roby asserted without a doubt that the corpse was not Lucius Roby’s; it lacks a scar on the upper arm that Lucius acquired as a youth.”
“Right, so that means what one ov da two bodies was Thomas Clarke. Good chap, terrible thin' ter 'appen ter 'im. But what doesn’t mean we need ter be all searchin' Evans’ 'ome. I say we let da dead stay dead.”
The Altherian paused at one point in the floor. “You hear that?”
Price cocked his head. “What?”
“The floorboards. They stopped squeaking. Shine your lantern over here.”
Price focused his bull’s-eye lantern at the spot by Dril’s foot.
The floorboards were a darker color than the rest, spongy and moist.
Dril leaned down on one knee. “I’m not convinced that Alexander Harriwell killed anybody; he was straight-jacketed in his cell. And killing three grown men, two of them the Sea Lord’s Guard, is no simple task.” Dril wiped one finger along the board and sniffed it. “This is blood.”
“Then that’s an awful lot ov blood,” said Price. He put the lamp down on the floor to get a closer look. The beam splayed across the wall.
Dril walked over to the front door. He bent down to pick up a piece of mail on the mat.
“Interesting,” said Dril. “One of these letters is a tailor’s bill addressed to Michael Evans. The other is addressed to…Montague Edwards!”
When Price didn’t response, Dril added, “Don’t you see? This connects Evans to Edwards. Montague Edwards kidnapped Roby and made it look like a double murder to throw us off the track. He’s…Price?”
Dril turned around. “Price?”
Price had stopped talking. He stood, transfixed, beaming the lantern along the wall.
The lantern slowly revealed words painted in blood: “Seven days for his work, five for mine.”
Dril ran out the door to warn his companions.
talien
Community Supporter
To Walk in Carcosa: Part 1 – The Road and the Forest
Two or three inches of snow lay on the ground. The landscape they passed through was one of high mountains, rivers and streams, heathland, and thick wood.
“I hope ye know where yer going,” said Captain Drak Scarbelly, ka-klumping along behind Kham and Ilmarė with his peg-leg.
“Talathiel told Sebastian that Montague Edwards was the Laird of Libertyville,” said Ilmarė. “And Dril told us Michael Evans is actually Montague Edwards. With Lucius missing, this is the most logical place to look first. If they were going to hide somewhere, Libertyville would be the place to do it.”
“You didn’t have to come along you know.” Kham was back to his old self. The lack of Ghoul Juice left him irritable.
“Aye, but we do intend t' stop this Kin' in Yellow business ye keep natterin' on about. If it means puttin' an end t' this threat t' Freeport, then I’ll see it through.”
“Very noble,” said Kham. “What about your boat?”
“The Bloody Vengeance?” Rask snorted. “Aggro has been cap'nin' it all this time, he can han'le it fer another day.”
After an hour and a half, they arrived at Libertyville; a village of just two dozen or so stone houses. From there, a snow-covered muddy track headed towards the Loch, through a thick forest of old pines mixed in with ferns, heather and outcrops of granite.
“Look at the trees,” said Prolk.
Rather than all the trees growing straight, many of them strained towards the Loch—on some, the root system was partially exposed where the whole trunk has tilted considerably.
As they moved through the forest, the groan and crack of roots breaking under the strain is a constant companion.
“There’s no wildlife,” said Ilmarė. “Not even birdsong.”
Just half a mile down the road, looping, the rutted track led away to the north then the east. There was no indication that it had been taken recently, but after following it for a full mile they came to a monolith standing in a small clearing.
Kham frowned. “This looks familiar.”
Ilmarė squinted. “It reads: Expectant we raise our muzzles to smell the air for hatred, we strain our ears for the sound of love.”
They kept moving. Ilmarė froze.
“What?” asked Kham.
“Shh! Do you hear that?”
They strained to listen. There was a distant crashing noise. Something was coming closer and closer through the thick forest.
“It’s coming from the south,” said Ilmarė. “But it’s not at ground level. Whatever it is, it’s high up—splintering the treetops as it comes.”
“Get down!” shouted Kham.
A huge sac, rippling and throbbing and flecked with light, moved squid-like, pulling itself through the air by long, groping tentacles that sawed on the wind and pulled on the branches with equal purchase. It didn’t go far.
Just two hundred yards further down the road, a track led a short distance off into the forest. The thing clung to a second monolith like a child’s forgotten balloon.
“That monolith’s got an inscription too.” Ilmarė fingered an amulet at her throat. “We, the mute, lame, the stupid, the dull, the weak.” She turned to Kham. “It must be talking about you.”
Two or three inches of snow lay on the ground. The landscape they passed through was one of high mountains, rivers and streams, heathland, and thick wood.
“I hope ye know where yer going,” said Captain Drak Scarbelly, ka-klumping along behind Kham and Ilmarė with his peg-leg.
“Talathiel told Sebastian that Montague Edwards was the Laird of Libertyville,” said Ilmarė. “And Dril told us Michael Evans is actually Montague Edwards. With Lucius missing, this is the most logical place to look first. If they were going to hide somewhere, Libertyville would be the place to do it.”
“You didn’t have to come along you know.” Kham was back to his old self. The lack of Ghoul Juice left him irritable.
“Aye, but we do intend t' stop this Kin' in Yellow business ye keep natterin' on about. If it means puttin' an end t' this threat t' Freeport, then I’ll see it through.”
“Very noble,” said Kham. “What about your boat?”
“The Bloody Vengeance?” Rask snorted. “Aggro has been cap'nin' it all this time, he can han'le it fer another day.”
After an hour and a half, they arrived at Libertyville; a village of just two dozen or so stone houses. From there, a snow-covered muddy track headed towards the Loch, through a thick forest of old pines mixed in with ferns, heather and outcrops of granite.
“Look at the trees,” said Prolk.
Rather than all the trees growing straight, many of them strained towards the Loch—on some, the root system was partially exposed where the whole trunk has tilted considerably.
As they moved through the forest, the groan and crack of roots breaking under the strain is a constant companion.
“There’s no wildlife,” said Ilmarė. “Not even birdsong.”
Just half a mile down the road, looping, the rutted track led away to the north then the east. There was no indication that it had been taken recently, but after following it for a full mile they came to a monolith standing in a small clearing.
Kham frowned. “This looks familiar.”
Ilmarė squinted. “It reads: Expectant we raise our muzzles to smell the air for hatred, we strain our ears for the sound of love.”
They kept moving. Ilmarė froze.
“What?” asked Kham.
“Shh! Do you hear that?”
They strained to listen. There was a distant crashing noise. Something was coming closer and closer through the thick forest.
“It’s coming from the south,” said Ilmarė. “But it’s not at ground level. Whatever it is, it’s high up—splintering the treetops as it comes.”
“Get down!” shouted Kham.
A huge sac, rippling and throbbing and flecked with light, moved squid-like, pulling itself through the air by long, groping tentacles that sawed on the wind and pulled on the branches with equal purchase. It didn’t go far.
Just two hundred yards further down the road, a track led a short distance off into the forest. The thing clung to a second monolith like a child’s forgotten balloon.
“That monolith’s got an inscription too.” Ilmarė fingered an amulet at her throat. “We, the mute, lame, the stupid, the dull, the weak.” She turned to Kham. “It must be talking about you.”
talien
Community Supporter
To Walk in Carcosa: Part 2 – The Road and the Forest
The black mirror of the loch stretched out—a long, thin cut between the mountain ridges that contained it. Edwards’ house stood on the loch’s eastern end.
“For a laird, his house is not as impressive as I imagined,” said Ilmarė. It was a largish two-story stone hunting lodge, rather ugly. Two wagons stood in front of it, almost completely hidden by snow. No footprints or horse tracks were visible.
A thin, white mist rolled up from the water and around and past the house. There was no noise, no lights no movement.
As soon as they moved, the mist thickened around them. Visibility quickly lessened, but as it did they caught a glimpse of something new. There was a new structure—a large, white arch that looked ceremonial. It was completely incongruous in surroundings.
“It’s happening again,” sighed Kham.
They became aware of other buildings around them. The mist was gone. Even behind them there were streets. They stood in the middle of a city, a city that did not belong there. In front of them, the large ornate arch was topped by elaborate statuary depicting a pair of lions rearing and fighting.
“That wasn’t thar a moment ago,” said Scarbelly.
“The whole city wasn’t there before,” said Ilmarė.
The house was no longer visible. Neither was the loch. It was clear that the sky no longer belonged to Arcanis. Though it appeared to be night, with stars everywhere, there were also two pale suns low in the sky that bathed the city in a pearl light.
“We’re back in Carcosa,” said Kham. He seemed resigned to his fate. “Only this time it’s not frozen over. They must have finished another summoning ritual.”
The city was laid out around half the shoreline of a calm lake—the other half was lightly forested with firs and birch—elegant buildings rose away up the steep slopes from the water arranged about plazas, avenues, pools, canals, and formal parks and gardens. There was architecture of all kinds present, but most of the city had a formal, Coryani-feel with white marble bell towers, ornate relief work, small bridges, columns, red roof tiles, and marble domes.
“The gate,” said Scarbelly. “It…changed.”
The city gate had indeed changed when they looked away from it for a split second. Lower and gilded, it was now topped instead by a single horse-headed bird fashioned from onyx. In the blink of it eye, it became a tall, thin building, with a simple wooden door at its base. A great flame burned in a brazier on its flat roof.
“It’s some kind of lighthouse,” said Prolk.
There was a dim light showing through the door that stood ajar, but there was no one inside.
“Thar be masks inside,” said Rask. “Just enough fer each o’ us.”
Kham caught Ilmarė’s gaze. She was staring at the sky. “The two suns are weird, I know.”
The elorii shook her head. She just pointed.
A pair of outlines flew across one then the other sun, before losing themselves in the inky sky. The stars seemed to wink.
“Byakhee,” she said. “The sky is crop-thick with the things.”
Kham ducked into the lighthouse and came back wearing a mask. It was a harlequin, with a black mask over interlocking green, yellow, and red diamonds together with a shepherdess with pale skin and rosy cheeks and lips.
“Let’s not give the Brotherhood an excuse to notice us.” He handed the remaining masks out.
Ilmarė donned a plain ivory mask with inlaid jet that made moving shadows. It was both beautiful and disturbing.
“I’m nay goin’ t’ put a mask on,” said Scarbelly.
Kham paused. “I’m still waiting for you to take yours off. Let’s go.” He walked through the archway into Carcosa.
The black mirror of the loch stretched out—a long, thin cut between the mountain ridges that contained it. Edwards’ house stood on the loch’s eastern end.
“For a laird, his house is not as impressive as I imagined,” said Ilmarė. It was a largish two-story stone hunting lodge, rather ugly. Two wagons stood in front of it, almost completely hidden by snow. No footprints or horse tracks were visible.
A thin, white mist rolled up from the water and around and past the house. There was no noise, no lights no movement.
As soon as they moved, the mist thickened around them. Visibility quickly lessened, but as it did they caught a glimpse of something new. There was a new structure—a large, white arch that looked ceremonial. It was completely incongruous in surroundings.
“It’s happening again,” sighed Kham.
They became aware of other buildings around them. The mist was gone. Even behind them there were streets. They stood in the middle of a city, a city that did not belong there. In front of them, the large ornate arch was topped by elaborate statuary depicting a pair of lions rearing and fighting.
“That wasn’t thar a moment ago,” said Scarbelly.
“The whole city wasn’t there before,” said Ilmarė.
The house was no longer visible. Neither was the loch. It was clear that the sky no longer belonged to Arcanis. Though it appeared to be night, with stars everywhere, there were also two pale suns low in the sky that bathed the city in a pearl light.
“We’re back in Carcosa,” said Kham. He seemed resigned to his fate. “Only this time it’s not frozen over. They must have finished another summoning ritual.”
The city was laid out around half the shoreline of a calm lake—the other half was lightly forested with firs and birch—elegant buildings rose away up the steep slopes from the water arranged about plazas, avenues, pools, canals, and formal parks and gardens. There was architecture of all kinds present, but most of the city had a formal, Coryani-feel with white marble bell towers, ornate relief work, small bridges, columns, red roof tiles, and marble domes.
“The gate,” said Scarbelly. “It…changed.”
The city gate had indeed changed when they looked away from it for a split second. Lower and gilded, it was now topped instead by a single horse-headed bird fashioned from onyx. In the blink of it eye, it became a tall, thin building, with a simple wooden door at its base. A great flame burned in a brazier on its flat roof.
“It’s some kind of lighthouse,” said Prolk.
There was a dim light showing through the door that stood ajar, but there was no one inside.
“Thar be masks inside,” said Rask. “Just enough fer each o’ us.”
Kham caught Ilmarė’s gaze. She was staring at the sky. “The two suns are weird, I know.”
The elorii shook her head. She just pointed.
A pair of outlines flew across one then the other sun, before losing themselves in the inky sky. The stars seemed to wink.
“Byakhee,” she said. “The sky is crop-thick with the things.”
Kham ducked into the lighthouse and came back wearing a mask. It was a harlequin, with a black mask over interlocking green, yellow, and red diamonds together with a shepherdess with pale skin and rosy cheeks and lips.
“Let’s not give the Brotherhood an excuse to notice us.” He handed the remaining masks out.
Ilmarė donned a plain ivory mask with inlaid jet that made moving shadows. It was both beautiful and disturbing.
“I’m nay goin’ t’ put a mask on,” said Scarbelly.
Kham paused. “I’m still waiting for you to take yours off. Let’s go.” He walked through the archway into Carcosa.
talien
Community Supporter
To Walk in Carcosa: Part 3 – The Road and the Forest
They emerged onto a broad walkway lined by porticoes that were in turn backed by large buildings. The buildings had no visible doors and their windows were set high up in the smooth walls.
The majority of the city boasted buildings of a uniformly fine quality, well designed and constructed, and in perfect repair. The streets were clean, there were well-tended trees and open spaces, and there was no kind of objectionable noise or bustle.
“It’s eerily calm,” said Ilmarė. Occasional snatches of music or singing could be heard, although the source was impossible to identify.
Several residents, all masked, suddenly appeared at adjoining windows in one building and leaned far out. One was pointing behind them, while the others strained to see what the masked man was indicating. There was a shout of recognition, a shrill scream, and some slightly hysterical laughter.
Ilmarė squinted. “It’s the Phantom of Truth, all dressed in white.”
“Just like in the play,” said Kham. “We’re going to have to find the palace before that party happens.”
“What play?” asked Prolk.
“It’s complicated,” said Kham. “Suffice it to say that Carcosa is as much a place as it is a mindset. When you read about it, you become part of it.”
Ilmarė frowned at Kham. “And it becomes a part of you.”
They came to a low wall, broken by steps leading down. They led to a slim bridge spanning a canal. The waters were quite a distance below, but the canal itself was only about twenty feet wide. The bridge was twenty feet long, less than a foot wide, and fashioned of marble. There was no handrail.
Across the bridge, the Phantom of Truth moved along the far bank and into a doorway close by.
“Well, there’s only one thing to do in a situation like this.” Kham took a swig of a potion. He jogged a few steps back.
“What’s that?” asked Scarbelly.
“Follow the white stranger. He’ll lead us to the palace.” Kham sprinted and took a flying leap, easily clearing the twenty-foot span.
Ilmarė put her hands on her hips. “And what about the rest of us?”
“You can make it.”
The elorii sighed. Then, holding her arms up high, she launched herself into a series of cartwheels across the narrow bridge. She landed on the other side with arms spread wide.
Kham clapped.
“What about us?” snarled Scarbelly.
“What, you can’t do that?” asked Kham innocently.
Scarbelly muttered a curse. Then he tentatively edged his way onto the bridge.
“I don’t think he can make it with his peg leg,” said Ilmarė. “Perhaps we should…”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll make it.”
There was a yelp followed by a splash as Scarbelly fell into the canal, followed by Prolk and Rask.
“Or not.”
They emerged onto a broad walkway lined by porticoes that were in turn backed by large buildings. The buildings had no visible doors and their windows were set high up in the smooth walls.
The majority of the city boasted buildings of a uniformly fine quality, well designed and constructed, and in perfect repair. The streets were clean, there were well-tended trees and open spaces, and there was no kind of objectionable noise or bustle.
“It’s eerily calm,” said Ilmarė. Occasional snatches of music or singing could be heard, although the source was impossible to identify.
Several residents, all masked, suddenly appeared at adjoining windows in one building and leaned far out. One was pointing behind them, while the others strained to see what the masked man was indicating. There was a shout of recognition, a shrill scream, and some slightly hysterical laughter.
Ilmarė squinted. “It’s the Phantom of Truth, all dressed in white.”
“Just like in the play,” said Kham. “We’re going to have to find the palace before that party happens.”
“What play?” asked Prolk.
“It’s complicated,” said Kham. “Suffice it to say that Carcosa is as much a place as it is a mindset. When you read about it, you become part of it.”
Ilmarė frowned at Kham. “And it becomes a part of you.”
They came to a low wall, broken by steps leading down. They led to a slim bridge spanning a canal. The waters were quite a distance below, but the canal itself was only about twenty feet wide. The bridge was twenty feet long, less than a foot wide, and fashioned of marble. There was no handrail.
Across the bridge, the Phantom of Truth moved along the far bank and into a doorway close by.
“Well, there’s only one thing to do in a situation like this.” Kham took a swig of a potion. He jogged a few steps back.
“What’s that?” asked Scarbelly.
“Follow the white stranger. He’ll lead us to the palace.” Kham sprinted and took a flying leap, easily clearing the twenty-foot span.
Ilmarė put her hands on her hips. “And what about the rest of us?”
“You can make it.”
The elorii sighed. Then, holding her arms up high, she launched herself into a series of cartwheels across the narrow bridge. She landed on the other side with arms spread wide.
Kham clapped.
“What about us?” snarled Scarbelly.
“What, you can’t do that?” asked Kham innocently.
Scarbelly muttered a curse. Then he tentatively edged his way onto the bridge.
“I don’t think he can make it with his peg leg,” said Ilmarė. “Perhaps we should…”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll make it.”
There was a yelp followed by a splash as Scarbelly fell into the canal, followed by Prolk and Rask.
“Or not.”
