SESSION 40E: A FINAL QUESTIONING

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

MALLECK’S LORE

The others had seen nothing of her struggle. They had seen her snatched from the air, a brilliant flash of scintillant energy, and then she had been standing in front of them again slamming the door shut. When she told them what she had experienced, they agreed that the chamber would be better left alone.

There was little of the temple left to explore now. They stumbled into Malleck’s chambers and found them to be luxuriously accoutered: He even had a personal bathing tub with alchemical mechanisms for heating the water. Among his personal effects they found a large cache of gold, along with additional papers and correspondence.

LETTER FROM SILION TO MALLECK

Malleck—

Valla has told me of your anger regarding the recent slowing of stock for your experiments. But if you must sate your fury, turn it towards Wuntad – he demands the same stock as you, and his desires are… particular. We have bent all of our efforts to fulfilling his requests, and have little time left to seek out what you need.

Nor are our friends among the Ring of Iron able to supply what you want. They never deal in those so young.

                                                                Silion

They also found three scrolls of black papyrus, covered in archaic runes written in a silvery ink. Ranthir was able to identify the runes as Ancient Common, and the ink as liquid mithril.

PROPHECIES OF THE CHILDREN OF CHAOS
(translated)

On three scrolls of black papyrus, written in faded silvery ink, are fragmentary passages of Ancient Common.

The most complete of the three scrolls details a “ritual of mutilation” – a mystic rite designed to directly affect living tissue to deleterious effect.

The second scroll is badly damaged, but appears to be the tale of Cajjan, Scion of Gellasatrac. Cajjan “stood at the right hand of the Ebon God” while the “campaigns of the blood armies” were fought – campaigns filled “with the carnage and destruction of the darkest paths”. Most of the rest of the scroll has been effectively destroyed, but towards the end there is a single phrase left intact: “—and in the blood of the savaged god was vested the promise of their power. And in the Hour of Black Rain that promise will be kept and the Dukes of Chaos shall be—“

The majority of the third scroll is covered in badly fragmented astronomical signs. In the center of the scroll, however, is preserved a passage of text: “There shall come those who bear the signs of the Nine. And in answer to their call there shall stand the Children of Chaos. And their ranks shall be matched. And their numbers shall be even. And their power shall be that of all fate.”

THE SANCTUARY

They decided to check the upper level of the temple. Heading up the stairs they passed through a seemingly unremarkable antechamber. Upon one wall there was a red tapestry emblazoned with the image of a black hand. The floor was covered with a round black rug.

As Tee passed over the latter, however, it suddenly sprung to life. As it tried to tangle itself about her feet, she leapt away… stumbling into the tapestry which, likewise, animated with malicious intent. Off-balance from her leap, she found her arms quickly caught up by the thick fabric.

The others, meanwhile, had scarcely had time to react to Tee’s predicament when the rug suddenly lunged in their direction – covering the doorway entirely. Agnarr and Tor tried to hack their way through it, but the strangely animate fibers of the rug proved bitterly resistant to their blows. Tee, meanwhile, was losing her struggle with the tapestry. While keeping her arms pinned, one corner of the tapestry curled up around her throat – pushing her back against the wall and choking the life out of her.

By the time Tor and Agnarr had gotten through the rug, Tee lay slumped against the wall. She’d stopped breathing.

Agnarr ripped the rug off of her and used his sword to pin it against the opposite wall – the flames slowly consuming the thinner fabric of the tapestry as it writhed. Nasira rushed to Tee’s side and was able to quickly resuscitate her.

Tor smiled at Tee. “It would have been ironic if we had destroyed the entire temple only to be laid low by a rug.”

Tee rubbed her throat. “I’m not laughing.”

They finally passed into the outer sanctuary itself. Much like the Temple of the Rat God, it consisted only of a single long hall: The wood-paneled walls were painted black with narrow red and black stained windows. The floor was carpeted in crimson, and the entire chamber was dominated by a massive idol statue depicting a hand in black stone:

Each digit of the hand was topped by a burning candle set into fingertip niches. Behind the idol there was a black wood cabinet filled with bizarrely twisted musical instruments, apparently of ritual significance. With a grim set to his mouth, Tor snuffed the candles while Agnarr smashed the musical instruments. They debated destroying the idol itself, but decided it would take too much time.

There were no cultists to be found in the upper level, however. Either they had fled or they had descended to the melees below.

A TEMPLE LEAVE-TAKING

They dragged their loot (which now vastly outstripped the capacity of their bags of holding) into the upper sanctuary. They even decided to grab two of the glowing pavestones as a present for Tellith (so that she wouldn’t have to worry about wandering delvers trampling dirt and muck into her front hall at the Ghostly Minstrel).

While most of them stayed to watch over the loot, a couple of them went to hire a carriage and two carts. When they returned, Tor used the carriage to take the three children they had rescued from the prison to the watch station on Pirveyor Street. There he was recognized by the watchmen on duty (which again filled Tor with a thrill), and Tor discovered that word was already spreading of their exploits at the Temple of the Rat God. (Apparently watchmen had been summoned from the Pirveyor Street station to aid in what must have been a massive clean-up operation at the temple itself.)

Tor was able to quickly explain the situation and turn the children over to the custody of the watchmen. He decided, however, to claim that he had rescued them from the Temple of the Rat God instead of the Temple of Ebon Hand. (He was already concerned about them delving into the dangerous depths of the former; he didn’t think adding the dangers of the latter was a good idea.)

Meanwhile, the others were loading up the carts. Tee and Nasira drove those over to the Ghostly Minstrel, where they met with Tor and presented the paving stones to Tellith. She was delighted when they showed her how they worked, and they quickly made arrangements to get them installed as the front steps of the inn.

Back at the temple, the others hired a second carriage, loaded Malleck and Silion into it, paid off the driver to keep his mouth shut, and had him drop them off at the same warehouse in the South Market where Tee had questioned “what’s-his-face” (as Elestra called him; meaning Jamill). Having secured their well-gotten gains, Tee, Nasira, and Elestra jumped into a third carriage and took it to the warehouse to meet up with the rest of them.

A FINAL QUESTIONING

They decided to wake Silion up first and try questioning her again. They kept her bound and blindfolded, but she proved no more talkative than their first attempt: Her answers mostly confined to snarls, threats, and bitter sarcasm.

With a shrug, they turned their attention to Malleck.

“That’s right,” Tee said. “The Ebon Hand is gone. You’re losing your friends one temple at a time.”

“Malleck is no friend of mine,” Silion snarled, although she seemed somewhat subdued at the revelation.

Malleck was coming around. “You traitorous rat-bitch! You led them to me!”

Her role as provocateur satisfied, they knocked Silion unconscious again and turned their focus on Malleck. In the hopes that he might prove more useful, Nasira summoned a holy light and wrapped it around him – forcing him to speak nothing but the truth.

Malleck proved considerably more malleable, but he wasn’t going to talk without cutting a deal first.

“What do you want?” Tee asked.

“My life,” Malleck said with a sardonic smile.

“Fine,” Tee said. “But I don’t want to see you in Ptolus any more. You leave town. You don’t come back. That’s the deal.”

“That’s more than acceptable,” Malleck said.

“We want to find the Tolling Bell.”

“My contacts within the Bell are Illadras, Ibard, and Wulvera,” Malleck said. They were somewhat taken aback (perhaps even shocked) to find someone willing to talk so freely. But Malleck shrugged. “We have a deal.”

He confirmed that Illadras could be found at the Temple of Deep Chaos in the sewers beneath Oldtown. He had not spoken directly with Ibard in several weeks and wasn’t sure when she planned to return to Ptolus. And Wulvera “ran Porphyry House, down near the Warrens”.

“What about Wuntad?” Tee asked, her curiosity boiling over.

“I don’t deal with him directly,” Malleck said. “But he can be reached through Wulvera at Porphyry House.”

“And your slaves?”

“I buy them from Silion,” Malleck said. “I don’t really trouble myself with the details. I think she kidnaps some of them. Others I know she buys through the Ring of Iron.”

“How do we cure the boy?” Agnarr asked, a grim tone in his voice.

“What boy?”

“The boy you were operating on.”

“Oh,” Malleck said off-handedly. “You don’t.”

They pressed hard on this issue, but apparently he knew of no way to reverse the process. “Why would you want to take away their perfection?”

Agnarr barely stopped himself from killing him.

Eventually, however, Malleck grew tired of their questions. He was particularly amused by what he described as their “endless paranoia”. (They had asked him about Zavere, the Commissar, Rehobath, the new Silver Fatar… and on and on and on.) “If all of these were cultists, do you think we would be hiding in the sewers? No. Not yet. But our time will come. Enough. We have a bargain and your questions have come to an end. Release me and I will go.”

Tor looked to the others. “Are we done?”

Tee nodded.

Malleck laughed. “Yes, I think we are.”

Tor chopped his head off.

The others stared at him in shock.

“Just for the record,” Tee said. “I was going to let him go. Just want to be clear on that.”

“I know you were, dear,” Tor said. “But he tortured children. I was never going to let him walk free.”

Tee quietly wondered, though, what had become of the Tor they had first met not so very long ago.

They woke Silion again. She was still blindfolded, but as soon as she came around she smelled Malleck’s death in the air. She went into a panic. Pissed herself. And then went into a babbling state of shock. With a grimace of impatience, Tor killed her, too.

“We can still ask her a few questions,” Elestra asked. “I can force her body’s memories to speak through the Spirit of the City. But we’ll only be allowed three questions, so we should choose them carefully.”

Tee nodded. “Let’s make sure we get it right.”

They debated the list of questions for the better part of half an hour and then Elestra wove her magic. Silion’s decapitated head rose into the air, its blood dripping in a sickly, coagulate gore down onto its own corpse below.

“Where can I reach Terathera?” Elestra asked.

“She works with Wuntad.” Silion’s voice was a spectral, muted howl.

“Where is Wuntad?”

“I have not spoken with Wuntad in months. He was working on a great project beneath the streets of Oldtown.”

“How can we find the Ring of Iron?” (Tee felt fiercely that they should work to end the slave trade in Ptolus. It offended her to the very depths of her soul.)

“They can be found on the Docks. There is a route through the sewers from the Temple.”

The head fell with a dull, wet thud.

“Which temple?” Elestra asked the others, almost rhetorically. “The rats or the mutants?”

“I’m guessing her temple,” Nasira said.

Agnarr was throwning. “I just thought of a better question. Mahdoth’s shipment.”

“Maybe,” Tee said. “But we know where that’s happening. We’ll know what it is when we intercept it.”

They took a step back.

“Two headless corpses in a warehouse,” Tor said. “Just another day in Ptolus.”

“It’s just like our first day,” Tee said, sharing a dark laugh with the others.

Running the Campaign: Looting Infrastructure – Campaign Journal: Session 41A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 40D: CHILDREN OF THE HAND

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

They regrouped in the laboratory. The boy, whimpering in pain, was fading fast.

“Is there anything we can do for him?” Tee asked. Nasira shook her head. Tee, wanting to spare him the pain, slid a dagger through the boy’s ribs and into his heart.

Even as Tee’s dagger was coming free, Agnarr was dumping Silion’s body out of the bag of holding, removing the iron collar from around her neck, and placing it on the boy. A debate immediately broke out: Some wanted to preserve Silion for a second round of questioning. Others wanted to do the same for Malleck.

“We need Malleck to tell us what he’s done with the missing children,” Elestra said.

“We know what he did with them,” Agnarr said. He was adamant that they keep the boy alive, and it looked like the iron collar was the only way to do it.

Tee and Tor, meanwhile, teamed up to track down the priests who had fled from Tee. But when they went into the barracks they could find no trace of them.

“Could they have teleported out?” Tor asked.

“If they did, they could be bringing friends,” Tee said.

“Target practice.”

Stymied as they were, they began tearing the barracks apart. They found a map of a route through the sewers (which appeared to lead back to the Temple of the Rat God), but little else of interest. In a chamber adjoining one of the barracks, however, they found an officers’ chamber. (“Probably belongs to that red-cloaked woman,” Tor said.) On a table near a crystal decanter they found a pair of letters—

LETTERS FROM ILLADRAS TO FREIN

Frein—

I’m tired of seeing your grotesque men skulking around Crossing Street. The concept of discretion is apparently beyond your crude ability to comprehend. I have instructed the Brothers of Venom to take care of the necessary security precautions. Dilar believes they can use the “Brotherhood of Ptolus” to recruit those we’ll need.

                                                                Illadras

Frein—

You can mouth all the empty protests you want, it matters little to me. Your threats of taking the matter to Malleck are quite laughable. I am sure that Malleck is already aware of the situation here at the temple. And if you believe that Malleck has more of Wuntad’s ear than I do, I suspect you’re destined for a brutal disappointment.

                                                                Illadras

—and as Tor read them out loud, Tee discovered a hidden compartment in the room’s wardrobe which contained what appeared to be a map of the entire temple.

The map revealed a secret door on the far wall of the barracks. It seemed clear that the priests must have used it.

“If they did,” Tor said, “Then they must be long gone. They could have easily taken those stairs to the surface.”

Tee cursed, but thought they should still check out the small complex of rooms beyond the secret door in case the priests were holed up in there.

Directly beyond the door they found an armory well-stocked with a variety of common weapons. The next door, however, led to something far more disturbing: An altar of ebony bedecked with chains of black iron and covered with stains of dried blood. More of the chains depended from the ceiling, and from these hung the corpse of a man – his intestines hanging out from deep, runic gashes carved into his abdomen.

They felt their stomachs churn at the sight and Tee murmured a nearly silent oath to make the cultists pay for their foul debaucheries.

Through the next door they found the missing priests: They had freed two centipedic horrors from the chained collars that kept them here, and as Tor and Tee came through the door they unleashed them for the attack.

The skittering horrors had scarcely gotten halfway across the chamber, however, before Tee had placed a pair of blasts from her dragon pistol through their chitinous skulls. The priests began chanting their dark prayers, but Tor was upon them before they could finish the incantations.

When they returned to the others in the laboratory, they found the debate over the use of the iron collar continuing apace. Tee and Tor quickly saw it settled: The boy would be kept in suspended animation. Tor would bind, blindfold, and gag both Malleck and Silion. Nasira would bring them to the very brink of life and they would hold them there for as long as necessary.

While the others went back to searching the nooks and crannies of the complex, Ranthir settled down to watch over their freshly-bound prisoners while reading through the various manuscripts he had taken from the temple’s library.

The map Tee and Tor had found indicated a second secret panel located in the laboratory. With the map as her guide, Tee was able to easily find and open it, revealing a small chamber with several narrow tables lining its walls. The tables were covered in a variety of alchemical equipment, magical scrolls, enchanted incenses, and the like. Among these was a sack of red velvet that felt hot to the touch. It contained a tiny ember of pure elemental fire, and Tee was delighted to discover that it could be used to create a wide variety of fiery effects.

There were also a plethora of papers, and Ranthir was more than happy to interrupt his reading for even more reading. Many of the papers detailed a variety of alchemical procedures, of which the most important seemed to be the Alchemical Creation of the Children of the Hand.

ALCHEMICAL CREATION OF THE CHILDREN OF THE HAND

Many of these papers are thickly covered in alchemical symbols and notations. Others are a chronological chronicling of what appear to be research experiments.

The alchemical concoction described is meant to be used in conjunction with a mystical ritual (which is not detailed). It appears to be designed to induce extreme mutative behavior in test subjects, and the goal of the process appears to be the creation of “children of the hand”.

The full meaning of this phrase is made horribly apparent as the research notes turn towards studying the efficacy of the procedure. “Only the youngest demonstrate desired manifestations.” Those older than adolescence are described as being “cellularly mortified” and “lacking in morphable plasticity”.

Detailed anatomical reports and autopsy studies detail the results of the procedure: Green and black mottled skin. The skin of the hands turns entirely black and the fingers lengthen into scythe-like claws. The bodies slowly cover with pus-filled sores as the procedure continues to wrack their bodies with painful transformations. So painful that their screams of agony are ceaseless… and so their tongues are pulled from their mouths to silence them. Eventually the sores begin bursting, oozing blood from the slowly spreading open wounds.

There was also a letter.

LETTER FROM THE DAWNBREAKER

Now that we have secured the idol, the ship’s guard must be strengthened. We will require at least six of the Children of the Hand. I will not brook any further delays, and I pray you will not make it necessary for me to broach this subject with Wuntad to see it properly concluded.

As long as the idol is aboard, the Dawnbreaker will not return to port. Deliver the children to the Argent Dawn the next time she docks. They shall be safely delivered from there.

                                                                Ibard

Tee was convinced that the letter was referring to the Idol of Ravvan. Their failure to secure the idol still ate at her conscience, but now they had a way of finding it again. Unfortunately, they also had a long list of commitments that would need to take priority over it.

They did a second sweep through the barracks and finished tossing them. From there they headed to what proved to be a small prison complex. Tee had to pick the lock, and as the door swung open they were confronted by a single panicky cultist clutching the handle of a door further down a long hall.

“Don’t come any closer! Or I’ll unlock it! I will!”

Tor edged forwards. “Sir… You need to calm down. We won’t—“

“I said don’t come any closer! I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll—“

The door the man was holding was suddenly smashed open. His skull was instantly crushed by the heavy iron door as it was driven into the far wall. Stooping through the doorway came a Child of the Hand. It was even more horrific than the descriptions Ranthir had provided from the alchemical notes suggested: Its skin was a sickly ebon morass of pus, blood, and mottled green. Its muscles were horribly deformed in their excess. Its mouth was opened in a mute and endless howl of groaning pain.

It charged down the hall and smashed Tor into the wall with a powerful, grunting blow. Agnarr pushed Tee out of the way and came through the door to meet it. The creature’s powerful blows pounded mercilessly at the fighter, who was horrified to see that the creature’s pulsing, ever-growing muscles possessed some form of regenerative powers.

They did note, however, that it feared the flame from Agnarr’s sword. When they eventually managed to cut it down, they were forced to use flame to finally end its misery.

Nasira, with tears in her eyes at the thought of the innocent, tortured child the cultists had destroyed, healed the vicious gashes left by its scythe-like claws.

At the end of the hall they found a torture chamber: Manacles hung from the walls, and disturbingly stained wooden stocks, a rack, and even an iron maiden cluttered the large room. On a blood-stained table near the racks, there were notes from a recent interrogation.

NOTES FROM THE INTERROGATION

FIRST SESSION

The subject has proven to be remarkably resilient. After three hours on the rack, “Catya” was still protesting innocence. However, proper application of the weeping stone broke her resolve. Apparently her real name is Leesha.

SECOND SESSION

After putting her left eye out with the poker, the subject screamed Wulvera’s name before losing consciousness. I have spoken with Malleck and he will contact Wulvera to make sure that some misunderstanding has not taken place. Although if she’s a spy placed here by the Bell…

THIRD SESSION

With Wulvera denying all knowledge of any “Catya” or “Leesha”, Malleck has given me permission to proceed. The rack is proving of little use with this one.

FOURTH SESSION

The weeping stone has broken her. The subject has admitted she came to spy on us. She followed shipments out of the Teeth of Light to Porphyry House. Coming to Ptolus she was spotted by Wulvera’s guards, but she was able to learn of their connection to our temple.

Malleck will be pleased to learn of Wulvera’s failure. Those of the Bell may chastise us for a lack of discretion, but it seems they cannot keep their own counsel.

FIFTH SESSION

There is nothing more to be learned from this one. Malleck has given me permission to use her meat for the feast.

The mention of a weeping stone drew their attention to a smooth, black stone that lay on the table nearby. On closer inspection, they found thin veins of silver etched across its surface. Ranthir confirmed its identity: Created through alchemical processes that inflicted terrible – and sometimes lethal – pain on a living creature, such a stone would cause anyone touching it to his or her face to begin to weep and feel great sorrow. It was a common, if expensive, tool of malign torture.

Meanwhile, Nasira had taken the keys from the dead cultist and was opening the other prison doors. Agnarr was keeping a wary eye on her, afraid that they might find another of the Children of the Hand.

Instead, to their great joy, they found three unaffected children. They had been doped to somnulence, but otherwise seemed fine.

Nasira decided to stay with the children and watch over them. Ranthir and Elestra, wanting to stay near her, moved Malleck and Silion to the cell the Child of the Hand had been kept in. (It had been barely large enough for the child, but big enough to fit all four of them comfortably.)

THE MAZE

They returned to the sacrificial chamber of black chains. There was a locked door leading away from this chamber and Tee spent several long minutes struggling with the difficult lock. When she finally managed to trip the tumblers, she gave a jubilant cry and threw open the door—

And barely managed to dive out of the way of an explosion.

Agnarr helped her up. “You should check for traps.”

Beyond the door was a short hallway ending in another door. Halfway down the hall she stepped on a loose paving stone—

And a burst of fire filled the hall.

“You should check for traps.”

She reached the second door and checked it scrupulously for any sign of danger. Finding none, she opened the door and—

Explosion.

“You should check for traps.”

Beyond the door lay an odd-shaped chamber of gray stone. The floor of the chamber had been carved with an intricate maze-like pattern that seemed to shift and move as Tee looked at it.

Tee had no interest in stepping out onto the maze. Activating her boots she eased herself into the air—

And was ripped down to the floor, finding herself trapped on the first step of the maze. The way behind her had become clouded with a scintillating aura of energy and she could feel the strength of both body and soul being drained down into the twisted pathways of the maze. She felt herself gripped by a compulsion to step forward along the maze, and with each step the maze itself disappeared behind her.

The ordeal seemed endless, and with each step she took Tee could feel the presence of something horrific and powerful growing in her mind or the maze or both. It was as if the sheer, intense suffering of the labyrinthine labor were calling out to some malefic, ineffable entity. She felt her own soul acid-stripped bare before its dark power, and still the compulsion clutched her feet and drove her forward.

At last her weary, psychic-beaten footfalls along the back-twisted spiral forced her into the very center of the room – the apex of the maze. And in that instant she felt that distant, dark power touch her mind fully; she seemed to look out through its hopelessly faceted eyes onto a vast web of malevolent ambition.

She felt, twisted in its thoughts – thoughts which seemed to flow like the broken edges of the maze itself; thoughts she could comprehend only because the maze had twisted her own thoughts – an offer to share in its power; in its glorious vision of the world: All she needed was to accept and that power would be hers. It would flow through her and give her strength and let her—

Revulsion coiling in her heart, she reached for the lesson Doraedian had taught her and turned the dream against itself and took one last and final step… And found herself standing outside the chamber.

She reached out and slammed the door shut. But in one last glimpse of that chamber she could see the maze begin to re-etch itself into the floor of the chamber.

“You should really check for traps.”

Running the Campaign: The Villain Who Doesn’t Escape – Campaign Journal: Session 40E
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 40C: MALLECK’S LAST STAND

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

While Ranthir collected the books, the others were dumping the cultists’ bodies onto the lighted panels, which sucked the blood out of them and schlepped it down to the sewer.

“That’s gross,” Elestra said, watching the blood run in twisting rivulets away from them.

“Remind me not to stand on these things with an open wound,” Tee said.

They joined Ranthir in the library. Tee checked the doors, finding them all locked. Picking the nearest one at random, she flipped open her ring of lockpicking tools and set to work.

She had just gotten the door unlocked, however, when a piercing scream ripped its way through the complex. She sighed and relocked the door.

The scream sounded as if it came from the far end of the complex. They headed up a short flight of stairs and down a long hall that seemed to head in the right direction. Nearing the end of the hall, Tee caught the faint sounds of conversation coming from somewhere ahead and she waved the others to hold back and hold silent. Peering around the corner she looked through a door into what appeared to be one end of a larger barracks. There was definitely someone in there, but they were out of sight. In the opposite direction – the direction she felt the scream had come from – was another short flight of stairs leading up.

At Tee’s direction – and following Tor’s lead – they rounded the corner and headed up the stairs. These led into a large, open common room containing several tables, a few divans, several cushioned chairs, and a number of deformed stone idols.

Two cultists were on guard duty here, but they seemed lax in their duties: One was leaning lackadaisically against the wall while the other sat on a chair, sharpening his sword. Tor, still under the camouflaging effects of Elestra’s communion with the Spirit of the City, was able to sneak along the wall and kill the first without the other even noticing. When he went for the sword-sharpener, however, the cultist got a turn of good luck, narrowly dodging Tor’s thrust. But his luck lasted for only a moment: As he opened his mouth to give a warning shout, Tor cut him down in a gasping gurgle.

Another scream rended the air. They whirled towards the source, heading down a long flight of stairs that opened into a long, wide, sconce-lit hall. The staircase emerged above the floor of the hall and descended through open air, although along the nearest end it was flanked by two broad ledges which could be reached by independent stairs from the chamber floor.

The walls and the floor below were of black-and-red swirled marble. In the center of the lower floor was a large table of inclined stone. Strapped to this table was a young boy, his body wracked in the midst of some sort of horrible transformation: One arm had grown bulbous with rippling black muscles, his skin was mottled with a sickly green growth, and pus-filled sores were sprouting across his entire body and blood streamed from wounds that seemed to open and close of their own accord. His face was rictused in agony.

Standing nearby were two priests in white robes marked with the black hand of the Ebon Hand. They were manipulating syringes and checking injection tubes that had been plunged into the body of the transforming boy. Their work was being overseen by another man with mottled grey skin streaked with serpentine green wearing an ebony headdress.

Two more priests were standing near the end of the stairs. Their attention was given wholly to the grim proceedings before them. Tee – barely suppressing the rage she felt at the scene – was easily able to pass silently down the stairs. The priests weren’t aware of her until she sent one of their heads flying down the length of the chamber.

It landed near the feet of the man with the mottled grey skin. The priests stared down at it for a moment dumbly, and before they had a chance to process what was happening Tor had charged down the stairs and thrown them into complete disarray.

The grey-skinned man turned to one of the priests, “Give me your potion! Now!”

“Yes, Malleck.”

“It’s Malleck!” Tee cried with triumph.

Malleck swallowed the potion and disappeared.

“Dammit!”

MALLECK’S LAST STAND

Tee and Elestra laid down a volley of dragon pistol fire, forcing the remaining priests to backpedal rapidly as Agnarr moved to engage them. Tor, however, had shut his eyes, thinking back to the long hours of blind-folded training he had practiced back on his ranch. It seemed so long ago, and yet—

His sword lashed out. A spray of arterial blood spread across the wall and the venomed curses of Malleck could be heard clearly over the sounds of the nearby melee.

Tor opened his eyes with a grim smile. But suddenly a secret panel in the far wall slid open… and slid shut again. Malleck had escaped! Tor threw himself at the door, but was left searching helplessly for the mechanism to open it.

Two of the remaining priests called upon dark gods in a sibilant, twisted tongue. Hands of crackling black energy appeared in the air before them—And Agnarr’s flaming blade ripped through them and turned the priests behind them into smoldering ruins. In their last instants, the hands actually tried to flee from the enraged barbarian as they flickered out ineffectually. Elestra summoned lightning from the air itself to immolate the last of the priests.

Ranthir waved a hand over his feet and set off with expeditious speed back up the long stairs, hoping that he might be able to cut Malleck off from his escape.

Tee, meanwhile, was racing in the opposite direction. She hit the wall where Malleck had disappeared with her ring and in a burst of blue energy the panel slid open. Passing through it, she found herself back in the library. The blood trail ended abruptly (Tee guessed that Malleck had magically healed himself), but Tee’s sharp nose caught the passing of his scent. With something of a wild guess, she directed Elestra to send a burst of lightning in that direction—

And struck the invisible Malleck!

Malleck howled with pain. He was still invisible, but Tor followed his voice and caught him in another spray of blood.

“May the Galchutt consume you!” Malleck appeared, his hand outstretched towards them. A pillar of fire erupted around Tor.

Malleck turned to make good his escape, but Ranthir – racing down the hall from the opposite direction – stretched out his own hand and enmeshed Malleck in an impenetrable web. Malleck managed to wrench his way free from the sticky mass, but found himself trapped and backed into a corner as Tor and Agnarr closed in on him.

“Help! Help! To arms! The compound is under attack! We’re under attack!”

THE FALL OF THE TEMPLE

Agnarr, having burned his way through the web using his sword, plunged his sword into Malleck’s body. Tee, meanwhile, had heard the commotion of reinforcements drawn to Malleck’s final rallying cry. She called for the others to fall back through the secret door… only to discover that her ring had, unfortunately, disabled its mechanism. They couldn’t shut it.

Tor, taking up the rear of their retreat back into the laboratory, heard a door slam nearby and the rush of footsteps drawing nearer. Then voices cried out: “Malleck is down! Get him!”

During Malleck’s last stand, Nasira had turned her attention to the boy. She found that his heart was failing him. The process that was transforming him was obviously botched and incomplete and now it was killing him.

Hearing this, Agnarr couldn’t contain his rage. He was furious over the boy. With a grim look of determination he charged back out through the secret door.

“Agnarr!” Tee screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Agnarr found two cultist guards trying to haul Malleck out of the web. He cut them down with a single furious sweep of his blade.

But there were at least a dozen more of the cultists charging down the hall towards him. Agnarr whirled towards them…

And was joined by Tor, who gave him an ironic nod. “Well, since you’re out here anyway…”

Side-by-side they charged up the stairs and into the long hall. Tee, meanwhile, had gone back up the long-stairs and circled around to the far side of the barracks. She was waiting for the waves of reinforcements to run dry, but they just kept coming.

Elestra joined Tor and Agnarr in the hall, using the last of her lightning to chew up the back ranks of the cultists. For a moment it looked as if their morale might break.

But then a woman in red and black full plate – a red cape with a black hand embroidered upon its swirling across her back – emerged from the barracks. She started barking orders and rallying cries to the nearest soldiers.

Agnarr held his ground to keep the cultists from converging on Elestra, but Tor began to cut a path towards the woman. As Tor drew near, the woman saw him isolated from his companions. She carefully circled their skirmish, trying to flank him… but she was caught completely off-guard as Agnarr surged his way forward and came up behind them with preternatural speed. She was cut down before she realized the danger that was upon her.

Tee, thinking the woman to be the last of the cultists coming from that direction, emerged from her place of hiding in an effort to circle around the others and flank them. But as she did, two cultist priests came rushing out of the barracks and caught her standing in the middle of the hall. They sneered at her. “Trying to flee, eh?”

They took two steps towards her and then glanced down the length of the hall… where they saw the devastation wrought by Agnarr, Tor, and Elestra.

They turned and ran back into the barracks.

Running the Campaign: Moral Dilemmas of Magic – Campaign Journal: Session 40D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

THE BLOATED LORDS
(Chaos Lorebook)

They were the least of those that served. They were corruption given flesh; a corpulence of festering death and decay. Rebellious in spirit, yet forever bound to the power of their masters.

This tome describes the zaug – one of the “servitors of the Galchutt”. Physically the zaug were grossly obese humanoids with no hair. They had wide mouths full of teeth, claws for hands, and short horns on their heads. Some are described as possessing vestigial, rotting wings. A few passages describe their bodies as “corrupted receptacles”. Sores and oozing pus and bile covered their fat flesh. And much of their skin hung loose in rotting folds, pocked with holes from which intestines and other guts hung out – spurting vile fluids.

Several passages are given over to describing festering poisons and other vile alchemical substances that could be created from the “bile of the zaug”, although no true details of the required procedures are given.

The flesh of the zaug itself is ever-regenerating – allowing it to survive despite the diseases, poisons, and parasites that teem through its body. They are said to never eat or drink or breathe, and to speak only telepathically.

THE SOULHARVESTERS

Some among the zaug were transformed by the Galchutt and “turned to a new purpose”. As the zaug were made living receptacles for manifest corruption, the zaug soulharvesters became living prisoners for captured and tormented souls.

“Their very flesh burned with the fire of the souls which screamed within them.”

“Their hunger was without end, fed eternally by the torment of those who seared their flesh.”

Where the flesh of the zaug festered, the beruned and corpulent flesh of the soulharvesters was glistening and taut. And pressing out against the green-veined and pallid skin of their guts were the screaming faces of those imprisoned within them.

The “soulfire flesh” of the zaug soulharvesters is described as an immense, living power source.

THE LORE OF THE LATTER YEARS

And while their masters slept, the labors of the zaug were endless.

Later lore describes the zaug working with the “titans of the Purple City” in labors of “the technology of the taint” as they worked to “perfect the crafts gifted from beyond the Demonweb”.

Other passages refer to the zaug working in the laboratories of Ghul the Skull-King. “And their works turned to the binding and changing of the flesh, and the lesser races were turned into weapons of dark might.”

KASTRALATHAKASAL

And in the sleep of the Galchutt and the sealing of the Vaults of the Rhodintor, the zaug at last found their freedom. And in their caverns of the deep, their works turned inward.

Deep beneath the surface of the earth, it is said that Kastralathakasal – the City of the Zaug – “stands citadel upon the Throne of Darkness”. The city itself is described as a stronghold of alien metals and living, organic components.

Running the Campaign: All Your Zaug Belong to Us – Campaign Journal: Session 40C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

LORE OF THE DEMON COURT
(Chaos Lorebook)

And in the darkness of his prison, the Nameless One spun the first strands of the Web of Demons. And the web was laid between and beside the world, building upon the corruption that he had laid. And so he became the Weaver.

And in the world which he had lost, there were those who felt the touch of his web. And they were like unto gods. And chief among them were the Four Princes of the Demon Court: The Nightwalker, the Blood Goddess, the Scarlet Lord, and the Bane of Fire.

THE ORDERS OF THE DEMON COURT

And in the first rank of the Demon Court there were the Princes of Chaos.

And in the second rank of the Demon Court there were the Dukes of Chaos. And their chief was Shallamoth Kindred. And among them were Bhor Kei and Dhar Rhyth and Jubilex and Kihomenethoth and Ravvan the Beast.

And in the third rank of the Demon Court, there were the servitors of the Dukes – rhodintor and zaug, carach and shaddom, vreeth and the teeming hordes of the Elder Brood.

And in the passing of the Demon Court, there were left the Vested and the Cults – the seeds of chaos.

THE SHADOW THAT NEVER SLEEPS
(Chaos Lorebook)

Above all Those Who Slumber was the power of the One Who Was Born of Destruction, the Song Render, the Ender of Souls, the Dweller in Darkness. And among those who would speak his name, his name was Shallamoth Kindred – the act of desolation given life and mutilation given flesh.

This volume is a collection of lore regarding the Galchutt known as Shallamoth Kindred. It is a mixture of texts: Some poetical, some religious, some scholastic, some bombastic.

RANK WITHIN THE HOST: The Galchutt are not given to any order or hierarchy, and yet Shallamoth Kindred is often seen as their leader. No other Galchutt has ever been known to disobey it, and one of the ancient texts cited tells that “the Dweller in Darkness shall lead the Natharl’nacna host into the heart of creation, there to deliver all unto oblivion”.

THE FORM OF MAN: Shallamoth Kindred is described as being of two forms. The first of these – the form of man – takes the shape of a tall, lithe humanoid with indistinct features. This entire form is black like the deepest part of a bottomless pit, with the exception of its dagger-shaped eyes, colored the yellow-brown of diseased teeth.

THE FORM OF SOUL: The second form – the form of soul – is that of a squirming mass of ropy tendrils surrounding a bulbous, obese, pox-covered, decaying body with a vaguely humanoid shape. In some of the grotesque illustrations contained within this volume, vestigial bat-like wings hang limply around this form.

THE SUDDENNESS OF DESTRUCTION: “And he did move with the quickness of a razor.” “And in that moment he both came and was gone, leaving a wake of black madness in his tread.” These and similar quotations attest to Shallamoth Kindred’s ability to move with blinding speed and agility. It is literally capable of being there one moment and then gone in the next.

THE FACELESS FACE: “Its face was like the mirror nothingness. Its gaze a river of fire that touched thought but not earth.” Shallamoth Kindred never displays emotion. It never grows angry and it never shows fear. It does not gloat. It does not rejoice. It is impossible to manipulate or even to reason with.

THE CITADEL WITHOUT LIGHT: “And in the palace of the Kindred of Shallamoth, the eyes of the Galchutt are shut.” This phrase stands alone in the lower left hand corner of a page otherwise covered in a strangely warped mandala. Other passages refer to this place as the Citadel Without Light, and some speak of an inner sanctum: The Tourbillion. The Vortex of the World. From this Vortex, one can “step forth into the world”.

Another fragment describes the palace as being built entirely of mirrors which sometimes reflect less than can be seen, sometimes more, and sometimes something entirely alien.

Running the Campaign: Distributing Chaos Lorebooks – Next: The Bloated Lords
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index