Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4451446" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Belly of the Beast: Part 1 – The Guard Office</strong></p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>Kham grunted. “Gonna wake up soon,” he mumbled. </p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>Kham curled up on the floor. </p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>“Gotta leave,” mumbled Kham.</p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>Kham rolled over. Gresty took the feeble movement as encouragement to keep talking. </p><p></p><p>“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.”</p><p></p><p>“Women…got me into this mess in the first place.”</p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>“Lucius’ case is coming up soon,” said Kham. “Real soon…don’t think he’s going anywhere.”</p><p></p><p>“Edwards will call on me too. He needs me. I will not answer.”</p><p></p><p>“Like when Quelch called for Coombs before.” Kham sat up, rubbed his eyes. “You’re the same Gresty who wrote me that note.”</p><p></p><p>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.”</p><p></p><p>Kham tried not to look at Gresty. “What are you doing here, anyway?”</p><p></p><p>“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.” </p><p></p><p>“Althares’ ass,” said Kham. “You’re one of those.”</p><p></p><p>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. </p><p></p><p>“What man?” asked Kham.</p><p></p><p>“Mr. Egil Thompson,” said Gresty.</p><p></p><p>“Great.” Kham sighed. “Just great.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4451446, member: 3285"] [b]Belly of the Beast: Part 1 – The Guard Office[/b] 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.” [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
Top