Party:
The Plumage of Spring (Sorcerer 1) - Grey Woman
The Meek Sun (Thief 2) - Grey Woman
Slough (Halfling 1) - Mutant Man
The Last Walker (Fighting-man 1) - Ulfire Man
But in the night when she went out to dredge up and knapp flint, cowardice struck and fear and exhaustion overwhelmed. It seemed even in the waking night the shrieks would not leave her, nor would the blade cease shining in her minds eye like the moon above.
So she came to the twisted conclusion of a sorcerer and headed to the graveyard where the party’s slain were buried; and pulled from the soft mud the carcass of The Quiet Breath, that brave and dead hater of Chaos. And she dragged the much rotted corpse by hand out to a canoe, and paddled it close to their treasure canoe.
Once close she implored the spirit, attempting to extract a term of service as she would a summoned servitor—but this only sent the spirit into a screeching frenzy, and it sought to strangle Plumage with half-formed hands but could not.
And she heard the far-off murmur of the settlement waking, saw lamps and torches being lit on the catwalks, and felt the spirit’s touch chill her to the marrow. And her shaking hands measured the dimensions of the sliver against the carcass’ skull to carve away its like. It was filthy work, bloody work.
But when the two carcasses were fixed together, and Plumage had jammed coins into rotted eyesockets in some desperate act of ritual, silence fell. The spirit ceased strangling her, dissipating like morning mist.
From across the water some shouted to know anyone survived, if it was murder, and what was going on. Sounds of another canoe going across the water rang out. Plumage of Spring, relieved of the screaming but now fearful of how the scene looked, saw to the rotted thing at her feet. At her touch there was a kind of connection: a presence like the spirit’s spoke through feelings of renewed strength, of pain, of sensation, of having a body again—Plumage of Spring then knew a little of what being alive while dead felt like, and shuddered.
She whispered to the rotted thing that they would destroy the Old Ones, only that it should dive under the waters and hide itself until nightfall, when they could speak freely and avoid the day. And it thought-felt-spoke towards her that it knew she hated the Old Ones and Chaos, and would do so, and would learn of its body again for the feeling was strange and humbling.
The rotted thing then moved, shuddering, and was shoved over the canoe lip and into the river—and it sank out of sight. Fine timing too, for torchlight played upon Plumage and showed she was covered in mud and gore, and that torch was carried by the bailiff and two armed others. All looked upon the scene silently, and the bailiff made to restrain Plumage and she let herself be restrained—thinking of a plot, how to keep the peace, how to keep free.
In all, everything was brought back to the settlement; both canoes (checked for the screaming skull fragment), and Plumage herself with cord around her wrists and a hood over her head. She was walked over the catwalks and half-carried up a ladder; her hood was then removed and she saw the inside of the Tower of Judgement. It was a bare space, all stone, dominated by a table with scales and a raised couch on which the Judge reclined. Plumage was kept kneeling with the bailiff standing behind her; the three were otherwise alone.
There was silence. The Judge watched without saying a word, then asked what had happened.
Plumage was not taken aback; she spoke of being jumped by the Dolm man from the dungeon, him returning to finish the job. He had snuck up covered in the swamp, she said, and had dragged her to a canoe to kill her and do away with the body. But she had gotten the better of him, disemboweled him, and turned fate. He was long gone down the river now.
Then the Judge asked why Plumage was out so late; Plumage paused and said whiskey disagreed with her. This appeared to either annoy or make suspicious the Judge, who began pulling small stones—some white, some black—from a dish near her couch. Plumage saw one stone of each color playing in the Judge’s fingers, and marked the name.
The Judge then asked more questions:
Where had the others gone? Plumage didn’t know, for she had not asked.
Had the party gone back to the dungeon after being asked aid against the pirates? Plumage lied no, and lied well.
Did the sorcerer believe in justice? After a pause, Plumage said yes—a white stone came from the bag.
Did the sorcerer believe in punishment? Plumage said yes, now afraid.
How would that Dolm man have known Plumage wasn’t killed? Did he not cut her throat? Plumage said he must have been watching, intent on revenge—another white stone.
Would the sorcerer vow loyalty to the Judge, and uphold it? Of all questions this seemed to scare Plumage the most, and in fear she said no—another white stone, and the Judge nodded and said an honest answer was invaluable.
And so the Judge stacked the stones, black on one scale and white the other, and saw the overwhelming judgement. And the last thing Plumage knew was an approving nod before she turned and saw the bailiff had already swung right at her head.
Elsewhere things were grim. Slough and Dreamer of Skies had washed up on a shore bank along a placid lake, the latter terribly wounded and barely alive. They had lost their torches and rations, were soaked to the bone, and had no sense of direction. Slough elected to make rude camp under the protection of banyan roots until the next day, braving hunger instead of deep night, and washed out the wounds of his Gold retainer with fresher water from his skin.
They eyed each other in the dark and asked what all this was for. Slough said loyalty, but was depressed for the bad luck that seemed to follow him throughout life, and made use of his uncanny ability to hide in sleep. Dreamer did much the same and they slept with the moon looking down upon them and no watch.
In the night something silent came upon the duo and saw only Dreamer, for his yells rang loud and woke Slough to find a full half-dozen figures pulling the Gold man away from the camp and into the murky lake! Wasting no time nor loyalty, the mutant loosed a javelin that went wide and rushed to run atop the waters and save his companion.
The figures in the water retaliated with shocking accuracy—out of the dark and flashing in the moonlight no less than every one of their strange silvery darts struck the mutant, and he fell atop the lake’s (solid to him) surface while Dreamer was dragged beneath the churning waters, screaming.
But luck had other plans for Slough, and against all impossibility he awoke some time later, on the very edge of death, and began slowly dragging himself back to shore, and there curled up utterly hidden and dead to the world.
Ever elsewhere The Meek Sun and The Last Walker contemplated. They wanted to find their companions and return in force to acquire that longship, and so decided to backtrack to the mutant drug-lab overnight in hopes the others had the same idea. For once Last Walker spoke unbidden of his experience, and told of a thing while Meek Sun poled them downriver by moonlight.
He had seen the fate of Man, capital m-Man, and recoiled. He had seen towering obsidian ranges wherein Serpent-beings called out from primordial slime proto-men. And there were thirteen strains in all hues and colors, designed for torture and sacrifice all, and made and killed and remade again and again. Atrocities stretched across time. Pale interlopers tore through a burning sky. And he spoke of a collapse, a savage age, and a turning of the stars and the Old Ones who themselves were followed by only cold dark.
And there were others things of which he did not speak.
And he said he was no longer afraid of the things beyond death, just as he was not afraid of death. He said such was the way of Carcosa—Meek Sun felt a shudder of doom at those words, and held onto the treasures of her adventures as reassurance. They continued on, were stealthy or lucky, and came unto the drug-lab again with the dawn in their face and asked if Slough had come by and were disappointed.
So they asked if the lab created stimulants, and purchased with coin a kind of brittle black wafer they each ate and immediately felt a tremendous focus and sharpness of the eye. Such things came not from the lab, they were told, but from a village to the southeast in the grasslands, where rumor told of a pair of ancient alchemists. The mutants had gotten them third-hand from their sorcerer patron in a trade.
So the two broke fast on fried mushrooms and baked roots and struck out again to search before exhaustion overwhelmed their newfound chemical barriers. In time they gave from searching silently to yelling for Slough, each taking turns when the other’s voice gave out. Hours passed and they came to a placid lake still yelling hoarsely, and on the shore crawled out the broken mutant.
The reunion was brief. Slough couldn’t die, they said, for he still owed them. He chuckled, cursed them, groaned, and passed out while they hoisted him onto the raft. All exhausted or badly wounded, the trio pushed off away from shore. Before long Slough croaked that the lake was not safe, and there was much groaning and many oaths as they slowly, slowly poled away from the lake and up the river, back towards the river settlement.
Tensions rose when they neared the longship and its flying occupant, and they kept as far a distance as possible without running aground. Despite the loss of two Gold retainers they thought the others would still act as mercenaries once the ship was cleared, recovered, and rebuilt. Such was the way of Carcosa said Last Walker, which unsettled the other two. So they passed by the wreck and toward the settlement.
They approached in the evening, and saw there were a few watchfires and lit torches but the whole of the settlement lay quiet. They also saw the treasure canoe had been brought in, but ignored this and marched to their usual corner in the drinking pit to rest.
The absence of Plumage wasn’t remarked on, but the place grew quieter when the party entered mostly-dead and half-asleep. The darts were removed from Slough—and found to be of a silvery material none had seen before—and the three slipped into the depths of sleep, wounds bound.
It was then with great struggle they awoke to talk around them, and streaming daylight, and no Plumage. Last Walker, refreshed of his psychic talents, stole a thought and knew something had been sighted in the night, some kind of figure that watched but had disappeared under the water when approached. A figure with shining eyes.
The three pretended to finally rise from sleep and feigned ignorance; outside they were ignored as their presence had become custom. They rested for the day and did not find their sorcerer, and worry grew that their number was too small to be safe. So, at last, they made their way down to the Tower of Judgement that afternoon.
They had Slough approach and ask to be received, and were, and met the bailiff openly. They asked for Plumage, if she had been seen coming or going, and were told to wait—and as they waited, they saw they were being watched by a dozen Grey fighting-men all around.
Then appeared the Judge of Stones with their sorcerer companion hooded and bound. Negotiation was short and to the point: none of the party were loyal so a deal would be offered using the only thing they understood. That being cold cash.
The party protested, and said they had gone out and done what had been asked; they had found a crew of battle-tested mercenaries, and a ship to captain—they need only get both in one place. The Judge, who had a serene expression, paid attention to this and broke off. She said another canoe or raft was not enough against the river-pirates, and was more interested when the party explained it was a full longship.
Meek Sun told that the beast need only be slain and the ship raised, but they needed backup. The Judge told her to go get the mercenaries and not waste any more time, but thought better of it and told them she would dispatch a courier; the group would prepare the coming day and head out the day after. And the party would rest in the Tower, under multiple eyes so they would not slip away.
And if they did slip away, then the Judge would personally have Meek Sun, Slough, and Walker beheaded and Plumage sold to the north. Such were the mercies of the Judge.
So they were taken away from their corner nest and into the Tower of Judgement, and Plumage unhooded and all of them aware of the sword that hung above their collective heads. The Judge retired to her chambers a floor up, and fighting-men took position outside, and the courier was sent along the river with directions toward the Gold mercenaries and a warning of their poison fruit.
Plumage took Slough aside, perhaps counting on sympathy, and told him what she had done with the skull fragment and how it would eventually be caught and blamed on the party. Slough was disgusted but not completely shocked. In his wisdom he figured one of them could use the mist-shape potion and steal down to the waterside to warn the dead-thing—getting back inside would be another issue.
Or they could just wait and hope against hope the dead-thing would not be caught.
Or they could come clean to the bailiff, count of his friendship, and tell the creature to hide away.
Plumage reasoned that since it desired nothing more than to destroy chaos and slay the Old Ones, it wouldn’t trouble innocents of the settlement, and all would be well. So the party settled into confinement and waited.
Book of The Dead
Boss - Abandoned in a temple
The Lurking Minion - Sacrificed for power
The Quiet Breath - Struck down by a ghoul
Rattlebones - Killed by a vengeful acolyte
The Burrowing Excellence - Frozen in place by a Spawn
The Eyes of True Men - Putrefied from within by delayed poison
The Dreamer of Skies - Dragged to watery doom
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