Winter
Holiday
Report in Atyari by
Dominic Newman dated Freezeday, Fertilityweek,
Darkseason, 607
Prologue:
up to Clayday, Disorderweek,
Darkseason 607
With
Ingrid taking Sam Braun’s family to Moonguard, back at the Consulate we have to
suffer Doommaster Castiel
Stardust throwing his weight around. My feeling that he is seeking to set up
the Consulate as his private Skull is growing. Presumably he’s waiting for the
moment when we can dispose of Sam Braun’s Assassin associates, after which
he’ll bring in a full priest, at which point he’ll be Doom Lord or even High
Priest of Dark Truths with the power of the Spiritis Punitis behind him.
But
I can’t pay much attention to that. My purple beechwood
is due tomorrow; once it’s blessed by an Earth priestess my team can ride down
to Walnut Manor and destroy the rabbit’s foot still strung around my neck.
On
top of that is the matter of Alison Sander’s death. I frankly used her and
allowed her to be cursed by the rabbit’s foot – a curse of which I’m mortally
afraid of myself. If I’m not suffering the attentions of the Luciferan spirit of reprisal I should be. I think long and
hard about the matter and then visit the Hospital and tell the duty Healer just
that.
Obviously
I can’t go in to details but I freely confess I acted in a manner that result
in Alison being cursed, as a result of which she died. The Healer seems a
little bemused by all this and says she will have to approach a Physician. This
will take a day or two so I promise to call back in a few days.
Then
on top of everything else I get a message this morning couriered by pigeon from Moonguard, in microfiche. I’ve never
had one of these, they’re relatively new, a message
written using Smallsee on a tiny piece of parchment
the size of your fingernail attached in a little bronze canister half the size
of a thimble. It’s too small to read but the postroom
has a Smallsee matrix.
It
reads, ‘Dominic & Co, meet me in the
Well
Hoebottom is only a day’s ride and it certainly seems
urgent. Ingrid has asked for ‘Dominic & Co’ so it seems advisable to go
mob-handed; I recruit the familiar team of Roxanna, Jack Hoebottom
and Mukula N’Kunde.
The Briefing: Windsday, Disorderweek, Darkseason 607
Neither
Jack nor Harlequin are at all at home in the saddle so
I sign out the consulate wagon, a very nice vehicle indeed. I remove the
triangular pennons bearing the Nuncio’s arms and we set off. It is a chilly day
with a continual drizzle that soaks you through. Jack seems petrified at the
thought of damaging such a handsome vehicle and his driving is so overcautious
that we might have made better time walking. But, as with last time, he seems
to get his eye in after lunch.
I’m
unable to match Mukula’s effortless skills in the
saddle but he’s happy for us to ride together and teaches me a few words of his
tongue. I think he’s surprised to find how quickly I pick it up, but then
languages are my forte.
The
only highlight on the journey is spying a small herd of deer at the edge of a
copse fifty yards away late in the afternoon. We all take a shot and between us
down three does. Jack’s Peaceful Cut spell and Mukula’s
superb butchering skills give us three deer hides and some prime venison to
sell in Hoebottom – and fresh meat is always welcome
in Darkseason.
So
we arrive in Hoebottom. We park the wagon and take
rooms in the George and Dragon before strolling over to the Selenite
church.
A
priestess greets us; I give my name and ask if Ingrid Lunt
is expecting me. We are shown in and, while the others lounge on pews,
Harlequin and I find Ingrid in the sacristy.
She
relates how in Moonguard she’d taken the opportunity to ask around. It seems no
one has sanctioned Castiel’s recent activities and no
one is quite sure what he’s up to. His Stardust relations are distancing
themselves from him.
Then
Ingrid produces a piece of velum with a beautifully drawn up will. It’s in Harlequin’s
name and gives his uncle Castiel as sole heir – it’s
dated Deathweek, just a fortnight’s time! Harlequin
suddenly looks like he’s chewing lemons. I almost feel sorry for him.
Then
Ingrid turns to me and says that the ritual to destroy the rabbit’s foot as
given to me by Castiel is incomplete and would in
fact destroy me! According to Ingrid I’m still missing some crucial
ingredients: sulphur and Moondust I already have and
the purple beechwood should be available for
collection on my return but Ingrid reckons I also need hair from a goat or broo (a goat’s hair should be no problem); the shavings
from cards or dice owned by a Nemesis runelord (the
Nuncio or Sam Braun spring to mind) and some white ferronite!
What
on Orenoar’s tits is ‘white ferronite’?
Ingrid
explains that it’s a mineral of no particular value except in some obscure
alchemical rituals (which apparently is what the rabbit’s foot ritual is). She
found a survey in the Moonguard University School of Geology archives.
Apparently a few years ago someone spotted white ferronite
in a cave and drew a map – it shows the cave to be a few day’s journey to the
northwest of Freetown near what looks like a settlement called ‘Caesar’s
Palace’. I know the geography of Moonguard and
It
seems Castiel, having used Harlequin and myself to
gain a share in Sam Braun’s casino, intends to dispose of both of us. I’m to
expire while trying to destroy the rabbit’s foot and if Harlequin survives that
caper Castiel will doubtless shop him to the Ma-Fearans. Ingrid will either be forced to follow his lead or
she’ll probably be sever-spirited, or poisoned, or even killed by the Spiritis Punitis…
Ingrid
makes the pretty obvious point that all our lives are in jeopardy, Harlequin’s
most of all. She recognises that for me the priority must be to destroy the
rabbit’s foot so she advises me to pursue the ingredients for the nonce.
Ingrid
suggests my team and I set off for Caesar’s Palace to get the white ferronite. While we’re away from Moonguard she has a plan
to deal with Castiel by which she intends to lure him
out of the Consulate while getting Sam Braun to tip-off his Ma-Fearan connections – the would-be biter bitten!
That
sounds messy and I’ll be glad to be well out of it but once its over Ingrid
intends to arrange disposal of the higher level Ma-Fearans
and says our job will be to dispose of Johnny ‘No-Nose’ Difronzo
and Louis ‘Two-Crossbows’ Altieri.
Back
at the George & Dragon we discuss the situation. I explain that the
situation in Freetown is getting ‘political’ but to dispose of the rabbit’s
foot we need more ingredients, one of which is white ferronite
and that the only source of white ferronite is
apparently a cave in the middle of nowhere.
I
offer Roxanna, Mukula and Jack 50s each to escort
Harlequin and I to the caves at Caesar’s Palace and
all three happily sign up right away – employment seems scarce this season. We
can expect the trip to be uncomfortable at this time of year but it shouldn’t
actually be dangerous – we’re not carrying 24,000s this time, after all, and
we’ll be about equidistant from the Trolls and the Chaos Zone, which are the
primary threats at this time of year.
But
Roxanna and Mukula both raise the point that I’ve
been given the line of ‘what you know is wrong, this is the full ritual’ twice
now. How do I know that Ingrid’s version of the ritual is the right one? The
answer is, of course, that I don’t, but I’ve worked with Ingrid for a couple of
years now and I trust her judgement in this. If she wanted me dead she needn’t
be so underhand. Trying to verify things further would take more time and
frankly time is a luxury I can’t afford. Obviously the ritual will not happen this Moonday but the sooner
we get moving on this the sooner I can get shot of the thing.
Of
course none of us have any idea what white ferronite
looks like so we need advice. The dwarves at High Ho would be happy to advise for a reasonable fee. It’s also possible to go overland
from there via
But
both Jack and Mukula express unwillingness to go
through the Viking
So
we decide to return to
Preparations: Fireday, Disorderweek, Darkseason 607
The
return to
I
decide to take advice from an apothecary named Flaven
Basetop. He’s never heard of white ferronite but he takes a shilling to look it up and tells
us to come back in two hours. While he’s bent over his books I renew my
membership at the local library and make my own researches.
White
ferronite is a pale powdery mineral resembling
rock-salt in texture forming face-centred cubic crystals. It reacts with
certain acids…blah, blah, blah. I don’t have the time to get a degree in
stone-lore (face-centred cubic?) but I get enough to be able to confirm Basetop’s information.
And
Basetop sounds like he may have a copy of the same
book but he freely offers a sample in a glass vial. For a second my heart leaps
– perhaps our quest is unnecessary? – but then he says
it’s not white ferronite but only something that
looks very much like white ferronite.
And
my heart sinks: so there’s a mineral that looks pretty much like white ferronite but is not white ferronite?
So how do we tell the two apart? Basetop happily says
the application of a certain acid causes white ferronite
to bubble and form an orange goo
– (I hate it when they get technical?) I ask if we can have some of this acid
and sure enough he whips out a robust-looking vial of liquid and rings another
3s through the till. I suspect I’ve just paid over the odds for some vinegar.
Finally
I gain a leave of absence from Ingrid, who is making a credible impersonation
of a harassed underling deluged by too much work, covering the forthcoming Thanatar High Holy Day this coming Godsday.
Winter Camping: Moonday, Disorderweek to Freezeday, Harmonyweek, Darkseason 607
The
weather is remarkably mild as we leave
Caesar’s Palace: Waterday, Harmonyweek, Darkseason 607
Waterday greets us with rain and we spend most of
the day soaked. Around
The
joys of camping in the wild outdoors are truly dampened and we’re all wishing
for a warm, dry place to lay our blankets. So when the trail emerges from the
trees and we spy a log cabin on a low hill a few hundred yards away, we’re all
somewhat cheered to see smoke rising from its chimney.
The
map tells us this cabin must be Caesar’s Palace. Palace it certainly isn’t but it’s welcome nonetheless and we spur our horses forward,
eager to find shelter from this persistent cold drizzle.
As
we follow the trail along the beck to our left, we see a wide sandy expanse to
our right leading to a low hill almost exactly due east of the cabin, separated
from it by a plantation of conifers. The hill has what look like two caves in
its face. I feel an urge to search the caves immediately but common sense tells
me to wait for morning.
Then
Mukula grunts and points out a couple of strange
marks in the sand. They mean nothing to the others but to my eyes they look
like wormcasts, which I saw on a beach at Copperhead
while waiting for the boat to bare me back to Lüneport
– of course, those wormcasts were the size of my
finger; these are as big as a house! Something moves in the left hand cave.
Yes, wait for morning!
As
we approach the cabin we notice several dogs around it. The cabin is large,
suitable for a family, set on an islet amidst a boggy fen nestling in a loop of
the beck. It’s probably easily defensible but we see nothing that might be a
threat.
The
dogs start barking, of course, as we reach the conifer plantation. As we follow
the beck up the east side of the bog, a door opens and a large shield emerges.
The owner of the shield proves to be a muscular man bearing a quarterstaff in
his other hand. (Presumably he drops the shield when he wants to actually hit
someone.)
He
challenges us but the fact that the only weapon currently being brandished is Mukula’s javelin (because there’s nothing else to do with a
javelin except hold it) quickly convinces him that we’re no threat and he
readily agrees to offer hospitality provided we agree to lay aside our weapons
at his threshold, to which we all consent. (I’m so wet and cold I’d have
probably agreed to lay aside my left foot in return for a dry bed and warm
food.)
He
leads us in and introduces himself as Caesar Romero. He lives out here with his
wife, Carmen, and their children, Nalia and Miranda –
must be a lonely existence for the girls. As well as the dogs outside, there’s
another four inside, including a massive hound even larger than me.
I
find Caesar most affable. He offers us a vegetable stew as we steam gently in
front of a roaring fire. In return Jack services his tools and I write a letter
for him to Caesar’s aunt Gertrude, who still lives in Hoebottom.
Caesar asks what brings us so far away from civilisation and I’m happy to tell
him we’re on a quest for white ferronite, which we’re
told lies in a cave close to his house, perhaps one of the two caves in the
hill to the east?
Caesar
nods sagely but warns us that since our map was drawn the caves have been
occupied by a Chaos slimepriest with the colourful
name of Retcher Vomitman.
Caesar says Retcher doesn’t bother him as he sees him
as some sort of ally. Caesar then demonstrates that he can spit Chaos-slime and
at this point I notice his eyes are those of a cat’s! Caesar is a chaot! Suddenly I find myself seeking a hidden agenda. You
can’t trust chaots, not unless they’re in Thanatar, and not even then if they’re Thanis
or Atyaris!
Caesar
tells us he never wanted his Chaos features, though they can prove undeniably
useful and one is the reason for his affinity with his canine friends – and I
thought he was just a good dog-trainer! It seems he was driven from his
original home in Hoebottom when the Vikings of Gung-Ho
got wind of his afflictions.
He
mentions that Retcher has a ‘monster’ and I ask if
that’s the thing or things in the sand? Caesar
confirms that there are giant worms and we would be wise not to cross the sands (which means climbing down the brow of the hill on a
rope) but the monster is something else. Caesar’s only glimpsed it the once but
what he saw had both claws and tentacles and one of its heads was that of a
wolf! Well happy day!
We
ask if Retcher is a broo
but it seems he’s a man and his only obvious Chaos features are brown skin,
like Mukula (but I don’t think his is Chaos) and
ram’s horns - well great, rolling heads, now there’s a coincidence!
I
don’t like this.
With
that Caesar bids us good night. We will sleep on the floor of his hall watched
by his dogs, one of which is Caesar’s allied spirit (an iron-shod quarterstaff
stands in a corner). Despite his affability I cannot totally relax under
Caesar’s roof and sleep with my dagger close to hand.
But
we all awake greatly refreshed and only Mukula was
disturbed when a hound licked his face in the night. Over a breakfast of bread
toasted before the fire, we debate how to approach Retcher.
Caesar himself says Retcher occasionally calls on him
but Caesar never
visits the caves. When we express doubt about the sands he freely lends us a
rope. And we set out on foot. Jack’s sniffle seems to have gone.
We
had originally considered trekking over the brow of the hill from the north and
climbing down the steep southern face of the hill to reach the caves without
crossing the sands but I find myself uncomfortable with the thought of
abseiling directly on top of a Chaos slimepriest’s
stronghold. Instead we do the civilised thing and hail him from the edge of the
sands, thirty yards from the nearest cave.
There’s
a short wait and someone emerges but it’s a woman with no obvious Chaos
features. She asks us our business (amidst bragging how Chaos has enhanced
sexual athletics for her and her husband) and I tell her we seek white ferronite, which is rumoured to be found in her cave. She
withdraws to consult with her husband but warns against crossing the sands and
bangs her staff on the ground three times before retiring. We wait.
Retcher emerges a few minutes later. His
description matches Caesar’s verbal portrait but I notice that while his skin
is as brown as Mukula’s, no one could confuse the
two. Retcher looks like a white man painted brown and
there is no nobility in his features, though he has a certain charisma.
I
reiterate our quest, and Retcher promptly responds
that if white ferronite is in his cave it must be his
so what do we have to offer in return? I reply that we have money but he
probably has no need of this and Retcher nods
agreement. So I ask him what he wants?
As
I feared, all he wants is to spread Chaos. He offers to let us search his cave
in return for each of us drinking his slime and taking away more with which to
poison the well in
We
fall to arguing about this. Jack and Mukula are with
me but Roxanna would rather abstain and Harlequin argues outright that we
should attack immediately, “We can take him!”
I
feel we probably would win the fight but we know he has the sandworms and at
least one monster within his caves. Furthermore, if he hasn’t smeared Chaos
slime on his weapons he probably doesn’t deserve the title of slimepriest. So if we fight I see not all of us walking
away and some of the survivors with Chaos features. Better to take the Chaos
features without the violence. Jack and Mukula agree.
So does Roxanna but she still won’t drink the slime.
So
we declare that three of us will drink the slime and two remain outside but Retcher shakes his head. He wants five mugs of slime to be
drunk. If two decline, others must drink twice.
We
discuss things further. Drinking it all at once means only one chance to gorp, which is the main concern for all. Both Mukula and Jack are willing to drink a double dose; it
seems unfair for them to risk more than me so I tell Retcher
that the three of us will each take a double dose and that the extra is to buy
good will on his part, to ensure his monster does not interfere.
Retcher agrees and his wife brings out a tray with
three wooden flagons. Ugh! The stuff stinks and I have to hold my nose but
somehow we all gulp it down without throwing up. (Now we know why he chose ‘Retcher Vomitman’ as his nomme du phlegm.)
Then
there’s a shrill scream from Mukula that ends in to a
gurgle as he starts collapsing to gorp! Horrified, I
call to both Thanatar and Demosthenes for
intervention (I need Mukula for the ceremony) but
both turn a deaf ear. Dimly I hear Roxanna also intoning a call to Gowrie.
Then
abruptly Mukula stops screaming and his jellifying
form returns to normal. Jack sinks to the ground, his skin so pale he looks
almost transparent. Evidently he too called for divine intervention, but Neibelung heard him! Mukula owes
Jack a drink – I think this has left Jack’s spirit fearfully drained.
But
then the Chaos features start sprouting. Mukula, now
completely solid again, sprouts a long twisting horn from his forehead and
suddenly his mere presence menaces. Jack, on the ground with his back to the
rock and gasping for air is suddenly wiping his brow with a tentacle instead of
a hand.
And
I suddenly get the feeling that I can afflict others at will. I don’t know what
I can do yet but I’m sure I will learn soon. And then a burning sensation
starts to spread over my skin. Suddenly I know I don’t like this and I summon
the power of the rabbit’s foot. The burning sensation fades to be replaced with
a sense – an innate knowing – that I can assume another’s form. It would take
days and I will need to learn to employ it effectively, but I’ve a feeling my
future career will involve infiltration.
I
help Jack to his feet, noticing a very faint fizzing noise and a pungent odour
from his body, not unpleasant, just strong, then suddenly he’s scrambling out
of his hauberk; his sweat is attacking the bronze of his armour!
We
turn back to Retcher. We’ve kept our side of the
bargain. He sneers that we are now free to enter his cave and he will do
nothing directly to harm or hinder us. I remind him that the extra dose of
slime was to purchase good will. He returns that he thinks his monster can
handle anything we have to offer. Maybe that’s so and maybe not, but I make him
realise that even if his monster wins it will prevent us spreading our Chaos
abroad. Reluctantly, nay, sullenly, he agrees. He vanishes in to the cave only
to emerge a minute later to tell us that his monster is hidden away.
So
we light a couple of lanterns and enter the cave. Even with the lanterns,
seeing is difficult. There are occasional torches but even I, used to the dim
lighting of the skulls, find things difficult. Nameless faeces cover the floor
and the whole place stinks of slime.
We
pass a passage to the left, immediately after which Mukula
calls a halt. Careful probing with his sword reveals a pit filling the left
side of the passage, covered with a woven mat and disguised with filth.
Evidently Retcher’s good will is a very limited
quantity.
Further
down we pass another passage to the left and then we see some sort of chamber
but as I step forward there’s a whirring noise and I feel a sharp pain in my
right calf. I’ve tripped a cord made of sinew and a vicious little blade sprang
out of a crevice in the rock, slicing through my cour
boulli. I bind the wound as well as I can; it’s not
serious, just painful.
So
we move forward in to a natural cave about twenty-odd feet across. I
immediately start searching the walls for seams of pale rock but Mukula makes a clicking noise and nods toward the middle of
the chamber; slithering across the floor come Chaos
rats. Almost instinctively I use my new-found ability and feel something pass
from me to the nearest rat, which promptly falls behind the rest. Interesting,
looks like I have an innate binding.
It
takes a minute of hacking and stabbing in near dark to dispose of the rats,
none of which land a bite. The chamber proves devoid of white ferronite so we exit through the left-most of three other
passages. After two dozen yards we reach a side passage to the left just before
our passage turns right. Listening carefully, we make out unnatural and rather
disturbing noises coming from round the bend. Thinking this must be where Retcher keeps his monster, with barely a word we turn left.
A
dozen yards later we find another chamber, slightly smaller than the first. A
familiar noise makes us look down and we find more rats. This time we’re
outnumbered and you never know when a Chaos rat will have a seriously nasty
Chaos feature so I cast Bladesharp on my sword as we
go in. I don’t know if the others do the same but this time we despatch them
all in seconds – except that Mukula establishes some
sort of rapport over his. Oh, the joy of Chaos!
And
then real joy! A streak of pale rock shows through the gloom. I chip a lump off
and test it with Basetop’s acid. It fizzes and leaves
a dark residue that looks orange to me, albeit by lantern-light. I chisel off
some more and pack it away and we leave the way we came, taking care not to
fall in the concealed pit. I watch out in case Retcher
has reset his trap.
So
we stand at the cave mouth. We could call Retcher to
ensure his sandworms don’t bother us, or we could all sprint for solid ground
thirty yards away. But it seems sensible to climb up the rock face and return
over the hill. Roxanna climbs easily and with the rope we all get away without
incident. (Actually Harlequin nearly falls but just manages to find a toehold
in time.)
As
we trek back to Caesar’s Palace it begins to sink in that Jack, Mukula and I have just undergone a life-altering
experience. We are now chaots! Though from their
words I suspect Mukula and Jack may already have been
chaots, yet now they both bear very obvious chaos features
– in Mukula’s case, very obvious indeed.
I
myself am now chaotic. Never again will I seek passage by sea and I must be
careful when traversing the Hoe Downs. I’ve read that Chaos colours your very thought. Will I start to think differently? We
shall have to see but I must tread carefully. Thanatar
is the least chaotic of all the Chaos cults – it’s the only Chaos cult not
associated to Chaos. My Chaos features may enhance my career but there must be
those in Chancery and the other skulls who would be
suspicious – doors may open, others may close.
We
collect our horses and ride off. Caesar seems amused but hardly surprised at
the changes to Jack’s and Mukula’s appearances.
Return to
We
have no encounters on the way home and the weather is thankfully benign. I take
the opportunity to stop at a farm along the way and relieve a nanny goat of her
beard. That just leaves a dice or card belonging to a Nemesis runelord. We reach
Entering
the consulate, I discretely enquire after Ingrid and I’m told she’s taken to
drinking after work at the End of the Road so, of
course, I invite the team down there for a drink.
Buying
drinks for all of us at the bar I spy Ingrid and Edith at a table by
themselves. On joining the two women, Ingrid sadly has to break the news to
Harlequin that his uncle Castiel was murdered only
this morning on the streets of
Ingrid’s Brief: Godsday, Harmonyweek, Darkseason 607
The
next morning at work Ingrid gives me as much of the full story as I want to
hear. She’s pretty sure some senior Ma-Fearans killed
Castiel, now we have to deal with the assassins
ourselves. She’s called in a favour from someone high in Moonguard to deal with
Murray Lombardo.
My
task is still to deal with the lower initiates, Johnny ‘No Nose’ Difronzo and Lonnie ‘2 Crossbows’ Altieri.
Ingrid has their address and has had them tailed for the last week. They’re not
overly bright and tend not to change their route when making their way home
from work in the early hours of the morning. Ingrid wants all the assassins
taken out the same night so none can warn the others. She believes this will be
the night of Waterday next.
That
evening, once Difronzo and Altieri
are at work, I walk along their route home, seeking the right spot for an
ambush. It doesn’t take too long to find a convenient alleyway. It takes longer
to perfect the plan.
Harlequin
will be on the roof of a building adjacent to the alley. He will signal Mukula and Jake who will be stationed out of sight around
the corner at the far end of the alley. Meanwhile Roxanna and I will conceal
ourselves behind some bins. When the two assassins enter the alley, Jake and Mukula will seal one end, Roxanna and I the other, then we
loose a volley of missiles, Jack hits them with a shade (Chaos!) and we close
to finish them off hand-to-hand. Then we load the bodies in a handcart and dump
them in the sewers.
The Hit: Waterday,
Deathweek, Darkseason 607
Everything
goes like clockwork. Roxanna and I hear Difronzo and Altieri talking loudly at least half a minute before they
reach us so we have plenty of time to cast spells. They enter the alley
suspecting nothing.
As
Roxanna and I close their rear, Jack and Mukula are already
shooting. One slumps to the ground, clutching his chest. The other hops back,
apparently only grazed by Mukula’s javelin. I put a
quarrel in his thigh and he falls over too.
I’m
still expecting a shade when Roxanna glides past me, holding a dagger poised to
strike. It looks to me as if she’s trying to assassinate him but her technique
is flawed and she winds up just gashing his shoulder. I step forward and thrust
my shortsword through his eye.
The
rest is straightforward. I remove the missiles from the bodies while Roxanna
searches them for valuables (we get a few shillings each). We then throw them
on a handcart as Harlequin shins down a rope. Five minutes later Roxanna and I
are keeping watch as the other three drop the bodies in sewers in
More Preparations: Clayday, Deathweek, Darkseason 607
The
next morning I tell Ingrid our problem has been disposed of. She reports
success at her end too. I ask for remuneration for my accomplices but it seems
the Ducal pocket, despite the vast sums coming from
the Casino, can only stretch to 40s each! I think this is a little paltry and
make it up to 100s from my own funds.
It
seems the way is clear for the ritual this weekend. I formally request that my
‘never use fire’ geas is lifted temporarily and
Ingrid herself summons the Vox Sancti.
It’s a horrible feeling stating my petition; the gaze of the Voice of God,
manifest as a hornéd silver skull with eyes glowing
purple, seems to go right through me, but my request is granted.
Of
course I still need one more ingredient. The Nuncio refuses to co-operate,
point blank, but Sam Braun needs to hear the good news about the Ma Fearans so he must be a good bet for some dice or a pack of
cards.
Sam
is delighted to hear that his old associates have ‘left town’. He doesn’t seem
to realise that they may have left this frame of existence and I see no reason
to disillusion him. He’s already looking forward to getting his family back,
though I advise this probably won’t be until Sea Season next year.
He’s
happy to give me dice – I offer the excuse that I want a memento of the affair.
I now have all the ingredients but the purple beechwood
still needs blessing from an Earth priestess, which I purchase for 5s at the
Mercer Market Hall.
(Incidentally,
the Mercer Market Hall is guarded by a Great Troll – this is what happens when
the up-and-coming generation have never experienced a Troll raid. Before the Timestop Trolls regularly raided
And
finally I visit the Luciferans to ask after my
penance – privately I’m disgusted with their attitude, typically Lightbringer, ‘money makes good’, but they don’t even set a
decent price on the girl! The physician mutters ‘recent initiate’ under his
breath before pronouncing a ‘good will’ donation of 100s to her family can
discharge my debt.
I
tell him to transfer 500s from my dwindling funds held in the Luciferan hospital but mere money isn’t really the issue. I
acted in a manner contrary to Alison’s weal and as a result she died. Now I’m
not about to beat myself up over the affair and I acted according to orders but
you would think a cult like Lucifer would at least use the opportunity to secure
some service of benefit to the community. Somewhere between Lightbringer
materialism and Viking vengeance lies a happy medium.
But
at last we’re all set bar the travelling.
The Ritual: Moonday, Deathweek, Darkseason 607
We
ride south on Fireday and camp a few miles north of
Walnut Manor. We have no encounters. The weather is cold but fine.
We
take our time the next morning but by lunch we’re in place in a wood a mile
away from Walnut Manor. We watch it all afternoon and spy just two Broo who occasionally leave a stone building close to the
graveyard to wander the compound, like sentries, though they don’t seem
particularly alert. Smoky Broo – some of Graalhist’s coven, but miraculously there’s no sign of Graalhist himself. I begin to feel some sort of confidence.
An
hour after dark we slip quietly down to the Manor and appraise the building. We
wait for an hour, hoping to pick them off individually as they emerge, but the Broo don’t emerge at all after dark so obviously we must
carry the fight to them.
After
a brief whispered discussion, Jack summons a shade within the building. Twin
screams announce success and Jack pulls the shade out. Roxanna kicks down the
door.
Within
we see one Broo cowering in terror while another in
the middle of the room reaches for his weapons. We loose a volley of missiles
and he goes down. He does not get up. I suspect Klute
had already intervened for him when the shade struck.
We
reload our weapons in the doorway and shoot the second Broo
still cowering in the corner. Naturally Klute brings
it back but Jack, Mukula and I make short work of the
creature, though not before it hits me with some sort of curse.
A
quick reconnaissance confirms that Walnut Manor is ours. There’s
a few clouds about but the low mountains are breaking them up and the Moon
shines bright and clear.
I
light the fire, we chant, we burn the ingredients and the rabbit’s foot is
destroyed in a flare. I, and the World, are free of a
curse. I pray for Alison’s spirit to find rest. We burn the building with the Broo bodies.
Next
morning the Broo’s curse causes all my teeth to fall
out but the weather is fine and we take our time getting back, arriving at
Freetown Freezeday, Fertilityweek.
I pay Jack and Mukula the balance of their wages;
they’ve earned it! I enquire at the
Now
I shall surprise the mandarins of Chancery by making Doom-master, probably in
the summer.
Character Profiles
Roxanna
Mendoza: an enigmatic
dancer originally from Silversmith’s Circus. Now unemployed and afflicted with
a cursed ring she has grown to seven feet in height, impairing her qualities as
a dancer, but she seems strangely adept at stealth. I also observed her attempt
what looked suspiciously like an assassin-style attack but this was on a victim
who was himself an assassin.
Sebastian
Stardust/Harlequin: an
Atyari posing as a Gowrie entertainer, involved in a possible coup by his
uncle, Doommaster Castiel
Stardust. Both are related to Alvin Stardust, Doomlord
of Starkenberg Skull and Cassandra Stardust, whom Castiel described as his sister-in-law.
Jack ‘Black’ Hoebottom: a journeyman Neibelung
blacksmith.
Mukula N’Kunde: a Zebrarider,
initiate of Big Dada.
Ingrid
Lunt:
a Thanatar Doom-mistress and supervisor of the
Freetown Consulate.
Alison
Sanders: a Luciferan initiate, now dead.
Mad
Jim Wheeler: he may be
what he says, a Selenite Runelord,
or he may be something else, but he eventually turned on his own men, killing
two Selenite soldiers; when confronted in the Circus,
he Shadowported away; he’s still loose and very
dangerous.