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

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 4 – The Road and the Forest

They came onto a large stage of an immaculate, Coryani-style amphitheater. A semicircle of stone seats rose up into the sky; trapdoors and scene shifting equipment indicated that the theater was still in use.

“Movement,” said Ilmarė. “I think I saw a man with a…”

There was the crack of a pistol shot. Ilmarė spun from the blast.

“Damn humans!” shouted the elorii.

Kham took out both his pistols. “You okay?”

Ilmarė clutched her shoulder, blood streaming between her fingertips. “He only grazed me.”

“Damn Kolter and his crappy pistols!” Kham shook his head. “Every fool with a grudge has one.” He shouted at the pillar. “Come out, you’re outnumbered!”

Ilmarė arched an eyebrow.

“What?” Kham shrugged. “It’s true, we outnumber him.”

A man with neatly cut brown hair, a fat face, and a nervous smile stepped out from the pillar. He was dressed in the typical cult robes of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. He was tall, but moved with a hunch as though trying to remain unseen. The man placed the pistol in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were the creatures in the sky. You’re wearing masks…” He trailed off.

Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed. “Do we LOOK like big alien bugs?”

Spence coughed. “My name’s Spence. Quentin Spence.” He was seemed eager, manic to make their acquaintance. “I’ve been across at the Palace, even taken part in the ceremonies except the one currently happening. We’ve summoned four spawn. The next will summon the King in Yellow.”

“That’s what those big flying sacs of crap are?” Kham kept his pistols out. He scanned the sky. “Great.”

Ilmarė whispered an incantation and her wound healed over.

“I lost my nerve though,” said Spence. “I’m looking for Roby. I hope he’ll know what to do. I don’t think Roby knows anything of Edwards’ plans yet. I think he might be in the Sculpture Museum. Do you know?”

The elorii leaned near Kham. “There’s a corpse laying in a pool of blood behind the pillar.”

Kham nodded. “Well, Spence, I think it’s probably best if we move on.” Kham put his own pistols away in the folds of his overcoat.

“Oh?” said Spence, suddenly confused by Kham’s change in demeanor.

“Yeah.” Kham put one arm around Spence. “So why don’t you lead us out of here and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Spence slowly nodded. “Be careful out there, those things are dangerous…” he patted his pocket for the comfort of the Freeport pistol. Then his eyes widened.

“My pistol! It’s gone!”

”Really?” asked Ilmarė. “You must have misplaced it.”

Spence’s jovial features twisted in insane rage. “You! You took it! You give it back, you give it back right now!”

Kham sighed. He drew one of his own Altherian pistols. “You’re not allowed to play with toys.”

With a roar, Spence launched himself at Kham. He ducked past Kham’s outstretched arm and grappled him.

They struggled. A gunshot echoed across the arena.

Spence’s gaze became unfocused. He fell to the ground, his fingers still clutching at Kham’s overcoat.

“You didn’t want that piece of junk anyway.” Kham stepped over the man’s corpse. “Freeport gnomes made it.”

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 5 – The Northern Quarter

They continued to climb up the amphitheater. At the top was an amazing view.

The city was spread out beneath them, and over the roofs the lake itself was a great stain of shadow, except on its far, far shore. There reflected the lights of the Palace.

Although Carcosa contained many impressive structures, its Palace dominated the city. It was extensive, boasting three huge, loosely defined wings, each with towers, parapets and spires supported at points with buttresses and joined to one another by soaring walkways. The mostly separate wings were unified by jointly fronting three sides of a vast square. The square itself became a balcony that depended out above the still waters of the lake that bordered its fourth side. The whole building was a mixture of styles, but somehow a triumph of form.

The streets around them were small and twisted, rising and falling unexpectedly. It seemed a more modest part of town, but the buildings still offered their own grandiosities—aerial walkways in iron, wooden carvings of fabulous beasts or nature, chimney pots that were cast simulacra of its owner’s trade: shoes and boots, muskets, silver fish.

Once, they followed a corridor that turned in and in, growing narrower and narrower, progressing with the formulaic perfection of a conch shell that somehow promised a fantastic conclusion before, frustratingly, became too tight to pursue.

As they turned a corner, they came upon a small group of masked figures. As the rest move off, the last turned to greet them.

“And I am Noss,” he said, swaying drunkenly. The masked man doffed a red and green bird mask.

“Sorry, who?” asked Kham.

“Noss. I’m Noss. Didn’t you ask just now?”

“No,” said Ilmarė. “We didn’t.”

“Ah. Well, you look like you’re not from here. Were you born here?”

“No,” said Kham. “But you could say we’re regular visitors.”

Noss nodded. “I’m sure it looks quite different from last time. There is a great festival happening that has given rise to much excitement. A Stranger has come to the city who promises further upheaval—we wear masks in the Stranger’s honor, hoping that all will be to the good.”

“Us too,” said Kham.

“If you need help, I can act as your guide.”

“Actually, we were wondering if you’ve seen some…” Ilmarė hesitated, “ugly-masked people.”

Noss thought for a moment. “I think I can help. Follow me.”

He led them through a tiny, roofed alleyway and into a hidden courtyard surrounded by tall houses. A round bench had been built around an asphodel tree there. “Sit here and wait. Everyone comes by sooner or later.”

Then he left them.

An indeterminable amount of time passed, as it was impossible to keep track in Carcosa. Then they heard Scarbelly’s voice.

“Why be everyone keep complimentin’ us on our masks?”

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 6 – The Sculpture Museum

Reunited with the three orcs, they eventually discovered a small, white building that a discreet sign announced as the Sculpture Museum. All around were manicured gardens dotted with statuary of animals, men, and women—a medusa with its head of snakes screaming, a strange creature clutching a human child to its breast, a perfect replica of a cypress tree next to the real thing—byakhees presented angular wet-black arrangements, folded in upon themselves like bat wings. The last were by the entrance.

As they passed, the creatures shifted, their eyes swiveling jerkily. One clapped its great jaws together.

Scarbelly nearly smashed its head in with an axe. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s a little late for that,” said Ilmarė.

The building, like most in the city, changed constantly. Rooms and balconies contracted and expanded or disappeared completely when not directly observed; carpeting became oak became tile became marble.

Steps led straight down from the entrance to vast exhibition floors, much larger than the building above them. All the rooms were empty of other visitors. There were hundreds of objects present from all eras.

Further along was a wide corridor lined both sides with byakhee whistles from all over Arcanis. A dozen white robes hung in the next chamber, artfully arranged on wire mannequins so that the Yellow Sign was not entirely visible.

Over in a corner was a full-sized rendition of a human figure: the clay was still wet.

Kham took his pistol out.

“Not a fan of sculpture?” asked Scarbelly.

Kham cocked the pistol and pointed it at the forehead of the clay figure.

“Look closer,“ said Ilmarė.

It was a perfect sculpture of Kham. He looked drawn out and haggard, his face in his hands. But it was unmistakably Kham, down to his pupiless eyes, one of which could be seen between the fingers.

Slowly, Kham eased his finger off the trigger. “Actually, I kind of like it.”

“Kham,” said Ilmarė, “the last time you ‘kind of liked’ something it was Fleshripper. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.” Kham looked around. “All the artwork in the gallery makes a curious kind of sense.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Lucius Roby entered from a side hallway. He wore black trousers and a shirt with no tie and no collar. He looked tired, but also was very composed: a slight smile was on his lips. “Hello again,” he said softly. “Good to see you.”

“So you are alive,” said Kham. “Are you the reason Carcosa is here?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes. I have longed to be with Carcosa ever since I set eyes upon it, when I was possessed by a k’n-yan named Gll'-Hthaa-Ynn. When he finally left my body, I remembered fragments of what he knew. But Carcosa never let me forget. It was all I could wish for: it’s not just bricks and tar and steel but a living thing, and it moves with my call and my mood, echoing and building that mood to a peak of ecstasy. Leaving Carcosa was like dying for me. It’s only here that I feel truly alive.”

“Lucius,” said Ilmarė, “did you really kill your father and sister?”

Lucius’ face flickered with emotions of sorrow and pain. He regained his composure quickly. “When Gll'-Hthaa-Ynn became one with me, I was in a dreadful condition. My father and brother were terrible to me. So one night, I called to Aldebran and…something answered.”

“Byakhee,” said Kham.

Lucius nodded. “It killed my father.” He put the back of one hand to his mouth, tears welling in his eyes. “It killed Georgina too. You know the rest.”

“What’s this about Edwards trying to summon the King in Yellow?” asked Ilmarė

“Hmm, the King in Yellow, you say?” Lucius regained his composure. “Ah yes. Carbo said that too: Edwards thought he could call the King in Yellow to Arcanis. If Edwards was to bring Hastur here, to Carcosa, he would not arrive as the King in Yellow—he would be in a form that has no meaning to Onara, no rationality. We’re still on Arcanis, you know. He would destroy everyone in Carcosa. Edwards too.”

“Hastur? You mean Umor?”

“He is known by many names.” Roby tapped one lip with a forefinger. “Although Carcosa owes a part of its character to Hastur, he is like the darkness that throws the light into perfect relief—natural. Do you like Carcosa? I find it absolutely fantastic.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” With great difficulty, Kham tore his eyes off of his clay doppelganger.

“I don’t mean t’ break up this happy reunion,” said Scarbelly. “But thar be a cultist to stop.”

Lucius turned to face the orc, completely unphased by his appearance. “Rest assured, the city is safe. Although the Stranger is here, he will never reach the Palace to herald the arrival of the Tatter King.”

“Can you lead us to Edwards?”

Lucius’ mind seemed to wander. “Has he misled me? Why would he do this?” He made a decision and for a moment Lucius’ eyes focused on them. “I’ll speak to Edwards. He’ll be at the Palace.”

Lucius made to leave. Kham stood where he was.

“Kham,” said Lucius. “We must go. I share your love of the beauty that is Carcosa. But there won’t be any city left if Edwards does what I fear. Please follow me.”

Pale and melancholy, Kham grudgingly followed Lucius out.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 7 – Lake Hali

The journey to the lakeshore ran downhill through residential streets. Lake Hali was as still as stone. On its far shore was the bright Palace beneath the suns, looking a world away.

A path followed the water’s edge and promised to lead towards the Palace, but it soon cut back into the city. Fortunately, there were dozens of boats tied at the quay.

The boards were uniformly built from a polished hardwood, narrow in the beam with high bows and sterns, and with a single tall mast carrying a furled sail of white or pale yellow canvas. Each had further provision for two pairs of oars that were shipped on board.

They clambered in and launched two of the boats.

“The lake seems much bigger now that we’re out on it,” said Ilmarė.

“That’s because it was all ice last time,” said Kham. “This is where we discovered Hastur the first time. All along I thought it was the King in Yellow. But now I know what we really saw. We saw Hastur.”

“Thar be something beneath the surface,” said Prolk.

About a hundred yards away, something big slipped gently beneath the water’s surface.

Long tentacles broke the surface, frothing the water in front of a smooth domed mass. It was heading towards them.

Forty yards

Thirty yards.

Twenty yards.

“Hold on!” shouted Kham.

The thing came straight on, submerging, and its long shape passed directly under the hull. The boat was caught and rocked violently from side to side, only just staying up right.

The thing rose up about thirty yards beyond the boat; the tentacles flicked down and the slick body came into full view for a moment before it dove vertically with hardly a splash.

They continued on. Lucius was calm, watching the sky.

There were hundreds, even thousands, of the dreadful byakhee just visible, black on black, falling down from the region of Carcosa’s twin suns onto the Palace, onto the terrace. They swarmed so thickly together that it was like a river in the sky.

Ilmarė covered her ears. “They make a horrible din.”

As the boat neared landing, Lucius, who had been deep in thought, turned to stare up at the byakhee.

“I see what’s happening: Edwards is using Carcosa to speak to Hastur. He thinks it’s just like the play—the Stranger is in the Palace and so he can call the King in Yellow. He’s wrong—he’ll bring Hastur himself! And Hastur won’t bargain with him. He won’t even notice him.”

“Umor’s wrath will be terrible indeed.” Ilmarė shook her head. “After all he has done to your race, you still seek his favor.”

They docked the boats. Steps led up to one of the wings of the Palace.

“What will Hastur do with Carcosa?” asked Lucius.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 8 – Yolanda

They entered the Palace, passing marble-floored corridors hung with portraits, through receiving rooms and great banquet halls, across small gardens and high, cold chapels. The place seemed endless.

“We must head for the terrace, where the summoning is being performed,” murmured Lucius.

There was evidence that a party had taken place very recently. Food and drink abounded, as did flaming candles. There were discarded masks and even some fine clothes.

Scarbelly pointed. “Coombs! Avast, ye scab'r'us swabs! I just saw Coombs!”

“Michael Coombs?” asked Lucius. “Here?”

“Aye.” Scarbelly began clomping his way down the hallway. “Yer nay goin' t' get away this time, ye scurvy dog! I’ll gut ye like a catfish!”

They were jogging down the hall when Kham collided with a young woman. She fell with a cry.

The woman wore a lacquered mask with the face of a leering imp, the red of which matched the silk of her elegant gown. At her wrists and throat were clasped what must have been a fortune in rubies: they shined like bloody wounds. As she got up, rather unsteadily, the mask dislodged. She was very beautiful.

“Easy,” said Kham, helping her up. “Are you alright?”

The woman regained her composure and looked around. “My name is Yolanda. I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

“I’m Kham val’Abebi, these are my friends. We’re looking for Edwards. Have you seen him?”

“The Stranger is come to Yhtill,” whispered the woman. “There was a party. All unmasked at the appointed hour but the Stranger, and when the Queen ordered him to follow suit he did not because he wore his own face…the Pallid Mask.”

“We’re near the end of the play,” said Ilmarė, urgency in her voice.

“Now a curse is on Yhtill, which will surely become Carcosa,” said Yolanda.

Lucius was agitated by Yolanda’s words. “The time may be close. We must hurry!” He paused, turning to Ilmarė. “You wish to prevent Hastur coming don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Ilmarė. “Umor’s return is the end for all of us.”

Lucius looked at Kham. “Do you remember the verses of Cassilda’s Song I told you in the cell? The stars and the suns?”

Kham nodded.

“You may still escape Carcosa. Don’t forget those words. Look at what men can do. Look at what Edwards is doing now. You must not trust Carbo to do so: remember those words if it is you yourself that must lead the King astray.”

“I can lead you to the terrace,” said Yolanda. Then Coombs plunged a knife in her back.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 9 – Coombs

Coombs was a tall, thin, sharp-featured man with longish, greasy black hair. He wore a worn black overcoat.

After stabbing Yolanda he ran off, disappearing into the ever-shifting maze of rooms and corridors. Kham left the others behind. There was killing to be done that was best performed alone.

They engaged in a game of cat and mouse. Coombs stalked Kham, and in turn Kham stalked Coombs through the hundreds of rooms and corridors.

“You’re dead, Coombs!” Kham shouted, frustrated. “When I find you, you’re dead!”

“Not if I find yew first,” came Coombs’ voice. “Like I found yaaahr farfer.” A door slammed.

Kham let out a guttural scream of rage. “Why? He didn’t do anything to you!”

There was the sound of running feet. Kham turn another corner to find an empty hallway.

“He crossed da Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign.”

Kham opened another door. A body was laid out on a polished wooden table: it was a handsome young man whose throat had been cut. The blood was still running.

“You’re getting messy, Coombs.”

“They’re not even people.” Disdain dripped in Coombs’ voice. “None ov i' matters now anyway. We don’t need 'em. Edwards let me off my leash, so I can kill whomever I want.”

“And you always follow orders?”

Coombs laughed. “That’s right, I’m a good soldier. Edwards wan'ed yaaahr farfer killed an' I did it. And now 'e wants yew killed, so I’m gon'a do what an' all. I do what I’m told. But yew…yew never listen.”

Kham stopped talking. He swallowed a potion and faded from sight. Coombs was right; he wasn’t listening. He was distracting Kham, keeping him off guard. Kham had to pay attention.

There was the sound of a blade scratching along metal. Kham padded over to the source.

Coombs was walking along a corridor, casually running his knife along an incongruous metal banister.

He drew his two pistols. Kham was so close to Coombs he could almost touch him.

Kham took careful aim at Coombs’ head. He drew the hammers back on both pistols…

Coombs whirled at the sound of the pistol’s cocking and slashed upwards. The blade was slowed by Kham’s mental force field, but Coombs pushed past it, plunging it into his abdomen. A terrible cold cracked its way across his torso; blood froze where it came into contact with Coombs’ blade.

Simultaneously, Kham’s pistols unleashed his rage at point-blank range into the face of his father’s murderer.

The smoking remains of Coombs’ headless body collapsed to the ground.

Kham fumbled for a potion vial in the folds of his coat. The shivering was so bad that it threatened to incapacitate him.

“Rest in peace, dad.” Then he swigged a potion.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 10 – Stopping the Play

The next room was a ballroom, one wall of which was made of a succession of tall glass doors, all giving onto a long balcony.

Ilmarė tentatively advanced into the room. She could see the terrace where the summoning was taking place below her. Steps curled down from the balcony onto the terrace from both left and right. Beyond was the dark water of Lake Hali.

But all of it was eclipsed by the byakhee. There were hundreds and hundreds of the beasts outside, thick on the balustrades, roofs, and walls. Streams of the creatures were still flying down from the sky to join those already present, thickening the ranks each minute. The usually raucous monsters were silent, rapt, facing inwards. They were all focused on a small group of ten men in the center of it all.

“Edwards!” hissed Lucius, “They’re casting a spell to free Hastur.”

They were nearing the end of the performance. The cultist playing Cassilda was striking her son Aldones with a sword, but it was no faux swordplay. Blood was everywhere: soaking Aldones’ robes, pooling underfoot, and flying from the sword tip—and yet still Aldones delivered his lines.

In the role of Aldones, Edwards’ body knitted together even as he was slashed apart.

At Ilmarė’s throat, the Sign of Belisarda pulsed. She held it up high overhead and shouted.

“Then spoke Belisarda: We praise her name, stilling the song of the birds and quieting the call of the beasts, even stopping the breath of the air!”

As the Sign was presented the actors stumbled and then halted in confusion. The play stopped.

Edwards turned and stared up, bloody and disbelieving.

“Then spoke Belisarda: We praise her name, roaring!”

There was a sucking sound as a vortex of wind centered on Edwards. A massive blast of accumulated magical energy hit him. Blood immediately started to well and flow from his mouth, his eyes, his ears. He collapsed, coughing, unable to cry out. In seconds, he was dead.

Kham skidded into the room just as Edwards fell.

The cultists turned, raising their blades. There were byakhee everywhere, too. Many of the creatures were airborne, but others had landed to stare through the windows of the ballroom as though it was a cage.

Lucius turned to Kham. “I think I can help. May I borrow your weapon?”

One of the byakhee shattered a huge glass pane. It crept shyly in.

“Only I can stop the summoning!” shouted Edwards. “You have to trust me! The byakhee can’t harm me!”

Kham reached into his coat and threw Lucius the Freeport pistol he took from Spence.

“No!” shouted Ilmarė. “He’s going to—“

There was the crack of pistol fire. Everyone, even the byakhee, froze.

Lucius fell to the ground, seeping blood.

Kham skidded over to him. “Lucius, what the hell were you thinking?”

“It is done,” said Lucius, a strange smile on his face. Blood spattered his chest. “It is by my hand that Carcosa is here, and by my death that it will be released. Let me die.”

Carcosa rippled around them.

Scarbelly took a few warning swipes at the byakhee. “We’d better go!”

Scores of the things were gathered together, slowly creeping forward.

Kham patted Lucius’ hand. They couldn’t bring him with them.

But Lucius looked past him and out of the window, a horrified expression on his face. A shadow fell across him.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 11 – Hastur’s Arrival

The next room was a ballroom, one wall of which was made of a succession of tall glass doors, all giving onto a long balcony.

A thousand screaming byakhee lifted into the air as one, a thick black plague. Everything slowed down and there was a feeling of pressure, of resistance, as though one was underwater. Something was forming out beyond the balcony, rising from the lake.

It loomed up over the Palace. Titanic, it blotted out the stars.

Lucius was right. Edwards’ plans were ill laid indeed.

Something undulated, rippled horribly just beneath a patch of what passed for the thing’s flesh. It moved in a rhythm, pulsing in concert with the blood in Kham’s temples. He concentrated on where it was squirming and knew that if he tore his eyes off it for a moment, he would have to stare into its bottomless pits. And he would be lost forever.

Then he felt a release. He became aware of other things. Screaming cultists fell slowly up past the window.

Hastur had taken notice of the cultists who had summoned him. Greeting them, he took them up and fed them to his eyes.

There was a wash of weariness and confusion. The byakhee were a black swarm.

“Run to the garden!” shouted Lucius to Yolanda. Then he was overcome as scores of byakhee fell upon him, rending him limb from limb.

Everything moved in slow motion; screaming, yelling, shouting, pointing, running. Yolanda, panic-stricken, hurried for one of the many doors of the room.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Part 12 – Leaving Carcosa

They dashed from room to room, hall to corridor. Byakhee stalked them at every turn.

Kham swigged potion after potion. He tossed one to Ilmarė.

“Drink it!” When she shook her head, he shouted. “Trust me!”

They found the garden to be a surprisingly large, formally laid out affair comprised of lawns, gravel paths, clipped hedges, fountains, and pools. High red brick walls grown over with ivy surrounded the whole. A small hedge maze was in the middle of the space and had at its center a stone arch.

“Through there!” shouted Yolanda.

The orcs trailed behind.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Kham.

“I will not be harmed!” said Yolanda. “Go!”

Two large byakhee flapped down to land on either side of the entrance to the arch. With a mighty heave, Kham launched himself through the air; assisted by magic, he catapulted past the things and into the gate beyond.

Ilmarė attempted to duplicate his feat. But one of the byakhee slapped her out of the air with one claw. She hit the ground hard.

Snapping jaws shrieked towards her face but were smashed away by an axe.

“Keep going!” shouted Scarbelly. “We’ll hold them off!”

Ilmarė had scraped her knees and hands on the ground. Despite the danger, she noticed that the milk white glass beads pressed into the turf prescribed the pattern of the Yellow Sign.

She broke into a sprint. Byakhee swarmed around the three orcs even as she stepped through the archway.

 

[talien]

To Walk in Carcosa: Conclusion

Stepping through the portal, Ilmarė noticed that the pebbles pressed into the packed earth glowed in the form of the Yellow Sign. Carcosa was nowhere to be seen.

Kham stood, both pistols out.

“Kham, what…” she trailed off.

They stood before a colossal statue of a snake-like being, some fifteen feet high. Against the wall stood an altar, and the walls were carved with relieves of ssanu building and consecrating the temple. The statue, altar, and relieves were all chipped, but showed signs of having been recently cleaned.

Over a dozen ssanu surrounded them, spears out. They were outnumbered.

“Snakes,” said Kham. “Why did it have to be snakes?”