The Painted Man

The Dark Continent has many dark legends, and though those of the Witch-king of Gerem Faït are not amongst the more widely known, they have few rivals in terms of fear, horror, and undying evil.

In the days when the Erian civilizations were still young, there lived a mighty wizard in a now forgotten kingdom. His hunger for power led him to delve deeper and deeper into mysteries man was never meant to know, and as his quest lead him further down his dark path, he also became obsessed with immortality. Through nigromantic rituals and deals with old and best forgotten entities, he managed to cheat Dìs of his due.

Fragments of Truth and Fiction IV

Despite the war drawing nearer, or perhaps because of it, the citizens of Apeldoorn gathered for Freeday games on the frozen channel. The cold air was filled with laughter and happy voices, and for those afternoon-hours they were as happy as they had ever been. At least the children were -- few of the adults were able to wholly forget the Year of Crisis, and the fear of it merely being the beginning.

On the Painted Man

Abyssal glyph

In the last chapter (post not written at this point), the Pius Cabal visited Siltra, the City of the White Tower. The Tower is, according to legend, one of the seven Watchtowers of Argos. Here they were allowed entry to the library. Here is the essence of what was found about the Painted Man in the scrolls, tomes and tablets. Some of these points are hints, and more information can be found elsewhere on this blog.

• He his a Nefandic archmage, and a Master of Ars Abyssal, the Forbidden Arcanum believed to grant the Willworker immunity to Paradox.
• The tattooed body is but a vessel, and the soul is probably at least 1,500 years old.
• He has had many incarnations.
• He once wielded the sword Deicide.
• The tattoos are actually Abyssal glyphs. These glyphs form powerful spells, among these one that keeps the corpus from being consumed by the corrupted soul. Others are powerful wards.
• It is believed that he was once the Witch-king of Gerem Faït.

[Picture source: Peter V. brett - Creations]

Villains: The Court of Stars

Watchtower on the Broken Coast

In this post I will sum up what is known about the other major faction of evil in the world of Argos. As with the previous Villains-post, no new information will be presented, but I will try to put things in context.


The concept behind the Court of Stars is Dark Empire/Ancient Evil, and as such, its ranks will include a wide range of villainous archetypes and characters, ranging from (to quote G. Galan's player) the Queen of Shit herself, down to the rank-and-file of its legions of terror.


The Court of Stars has roots back to the very early days of the Book of Worlds.

Villains: Agents of Ordo Ultima Thule

Original inspiration for the Ordo Ultima Thule

Storyteller's note: In this post I will try to sum up what is known about the OUT. No new information will be presented, but I will make an attempt at putting the pieces gathered so far, on the table.


The Thulists are based on the simple concept Space Nazis. As Argos is an Early Enlightenment-era world, where magic and creatures from beyond play a big role, I needed a faction of super-villains. Aliens have never tickled me, and demons are too cheap, I believe. Thus the choice fell on evil Nazis from outer space. In stead of ray-guns, they use machine-guns.


The OUT has been a part of the Book of Worlds almost as long as Cthulhu himself.

~o~

It is believed that they originally came from Argos, and that their forefathers left this world sometime during the First Age - probably after Maleastra fell onto Argos. Varanger, the world they thereafter called their own, was destroyed in a great war many hundred years ago, and its final death was witnessed by Franko da Cola and William the Black Staff of Argos. Those Thulists who are now involved in the Great War are believed to be the descendants of those who fled the original destruction of Varanger. Since then they have hidden in Constructs deep in the Void, mined fringe-worlds for resources, and bided their time.

The doctrine of the OUT was first laid down by one Hellmand Döner, who viewed all spirits to be resources to be tapped into. His greatest work, and the downfall of his world, was the binding of Bazrak the Eater of Souls, a fallen, and possibly corrupt Daeva. Now they are devoted to somehow, and for some reason, awakening Cthulhu himself - so say those who are learned.

The OUT's thaumatechnology is by far superior to that of any other known civilization. Among the power-sources known to be used by them are electricity, dieselkraft, clockwerk and Goethic reactors. They command motorcarts, flying vessels, as well as Void-ships. The latter two apparently constructed from a mystical metal called Graviton, making them buoyant in the very air itself. The most feared weapons of the Thulists are those that use Shadarkeem ammunition, a metal so vile that exposure to it can make a human mortally ill. 

The first time agents of the order was encountered on Argos is recorded in the works of Franko da Cola, and names one Dr. Mörbius. This source dates back to the last years of the 10th century of Enlightenment. In these texts, Morpheus, Prince of Nightmares, has a dream that shows him a burning tower in the ocean to the west. Thus writes da Cola: "When Morpheus ventured there, I found it to be a metal construct, placed above Kraken's Deep. Here was encountered the mysterious Dr. Mörbius, a man so decrepit that nothing but his brain, sustained in a glass tank connected to some type of machine, remained."

What further can be gleaned from the text, is that inside the Burning Tower there was a great drill, boring deep into the Abyss and releasing black corruption into the world. The Tower was razed by the Morpheus, the Dreamlord, together with Agamon, the Second Dragon. Afterwards, Morpheus placed his Castle of Nightmares over this portal to the Deep, thus sealing it.

Dr. Mörbius escaped the destruction of the Burning Tower, and it has later been discovered that he is central in the Ordo Ultima Thule's Deep Command. One of the projects under the command of the doctor is Operation Black Spear - little is known about this evil plot, but it is believed that an ancient artifact plays a crucial part in its success.

The most feared agents of the OUT are the Hellghasts; elite warriors with thaumatech-equipment and extremely advanced weapons, whose souls have been merged with demons from the Abyss. Fortunately, they are relatively few in number, but even one is capable of posing great danger, even to an Exalted. See also this post.

Another type of OUT agents - perhaps minions is a more covering word - are the Cyclopes. They are humans who have been augmented with a clockwerk-electric ocular device, known as a Monocle, that is connected to their brains. As far as anyone knows, some type of malignant spirit is also integrated with this contraption. The Monocle appears to make them able to see in the dark, as well as through some type of Arcane vision. The Cyclopes encountered so far have shown tenacity, but little initiative.

The Men of Science are an important part of whatever evil the Thulists are working. They employ advanced machines, and follow complex Goethic methodologies to reach their goals, and have been encountered on every base so far breached. On one occasion, a Man of Science was even encountered in the field, digging up artifacts on the Dark Continent. See this post for details.

The OUT can call upon armed forces beside the Hellghasts. Little is known about these troops, but they have been encountered in bases, and, by logical extension, on vessels. These minions appear to be normal humans.

The last type of Thulist encountered thus far is the Fomori, or Hollow Men. These hideous creatures are have given up their soul to an Abyssal entity, and have displayed powers beyond that of any normal human. These powers, as well as the physical size and appearance seems to vary from specimen to specimen. The corruption does however appear to warp the host into a perverted image of its normal self. One such manifestation had a morbidly obese Hollow Man spew forth a terrible insectoid, killing its host as the entity came into the world. See these chapters for details. Another one, of enormous size, proved able to withstand a terrible amount of punishment before being brought down.

Finally, although not an agent in the same fashion as the above, there are the Zaprophytes. These pseudo-spirits are attached to the neck of a host, and are able to cloak their presence. Once attached, they control the host, and its removal will kill the bearer. The Zaprophytes were first encountered when the Pius Cabal abducted the previous Arch Primarch of the Temple of Man Supreme. See this chapter for details.

[Picture source: 1 Per Haagensen; 2 Xah Lee Web; 3 Castle Brimstone; 4 Young Actress Reviews; 5 Cyberpunk Review; 6 Peter Fendrik; 7 Fear Net; 8 The Babylon Project]

Orbis Hermetica

Chapter I
The Dawn of Time and the First Age

Long before the human race crawled from the dust of creation, the first of the Great Trees bore fruit deep in the Primordial woods of the virgin world of Argos. From these fruits came the first elves; tall, slender, star-eyed, and with the moon's silver in their hair. Under the Great Tree, they sang the first songs, and they danced with the rays of the sun and the beams of the moon.

In those days, long before the reckoning of time, the Eldren walked between the stars. These marshals of creation watched the darkness that lay behind the light, and stood watch over that which the Pantocrator had brought into being. All was good and true, and life blossomed in the worlds.

Aeons passed like water down a stream, and slowly the lands drifted apart; ancient races walked the hills and valleys, and passed into the mists of time forgotten. All this was guarded by the elves, for even then, evil seeped into Creation. It was also in this age that the Pantocrator vanished. Whereto, or whyfore is not known to any of the created, but for the first time since the First Word Its voice could not be heard.

Thus began what the Older Races call The Cold.

It was in this age that Man built the first hut, tamed the first beast, and tilled the first field. This was the beginning of the First Age of Man. While these young human tribes struggled against the wind and the wild, the elves and the Eldren watched over them and guided them.

Then the foul star, Maleastra, the Great Exarch Cthulhu, fell through the tapestry of Creation and onto the world of Argos, and innocence died. The star struck the First Great Tree, splitting it asunder and sinking its lands deep into the sea.

It drove a madness deep into the soul of those elves who had sprung from it, and their souls became so warped that their bodies could not contain it. Thus the Black Blood, the Orc, this hideous blasphemy, came into Creation.

Corruption and hatred seeped from the fallen Thing That Must Not Be, and as this darkness grew, it became stronger. The elves, guardians of this world, marched to war, doing battle with their fallen kin. But so great was this enemy that all seemed lost. Even the mighty Eldren, coming from the stars in their vast ships, could not prevail.

Man, the youngest of the races, had built the first cities when the First Great War began. Their greatest heroes, and with them the gods of Man, went to fight beside the elves and the Eldren - their guardians - but still the darkness grew. Many were those who perished, and many were those who fell into the Deep.

One man, thrice named, born of a line of heroes, saw that the world was coming to an end. He also saw that the Eldren no longer believed in the Creation, and that in their war on the Exarch they were destroying the very fabric of that which they should protect. This one man, once named Ertuil, set out to seek the Fire of the Gods.

He travelled deep into the cold lands of eternal winter, braving countless dangers and facing unspeakable horrors. Many are the tales of the journey of this man, twice named Jarabathon, but at long last he came to the Tower of the North.

Though the Eldren knew of him, they did not see him when he climbed the stairs of the Tower, for they did not know his name. And so it was that he, thrice named Hermes Primomagistos, reached Olympos and stole the Fire of the Gods.

Thus armed he returned to the his people, and he shared his secret with them. With this fire, a glimmer of light was again brought into the world, and the tide was slowly turned. Still the Great War lasted for many generations, until finally the army of gods and men and elves drove the Exarch into the Abyss.

Here at last the first of the gods, Dis Invictus, drove his spear through its heart. Yet that is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.

And so it was that the First Age came to an end.

[Picture source: Magic Words]

Cthulhu fhtagn!

It's been a while since my last post on random cthuliana, so to compensate I'll give you a quite informative link. Click, and it'll take you to How Stuff Works's Cthulhu article.


I know I've been posting a lot of videos lately, but this time it's actually relevant. Then again, Ghostbusters are always relevant as far as I'm concerned. This episode, The Collect Call of Cathulhu, does a pretty good job of portraying the Lovecraft mythos. Granted, its child-friendly and more than a little eighties, but what else would it be? The quality is not too good though, but it's still watch-worthy. The embedded vid is part 1, and the entire episode is in three parts.





Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.




[Picture source: Piccsy]

The Tale of Princess Aleriane

From Legends of the White Ocean, Erasmet von Adderborn, Rattenhof, YE 899

In the early days of the ancient Skythian Empire, the shores of the White Sea were plagued by terrible pirates. These wolfs of the ocean mists would strike without warning, and vanish without trace -- leaving only death and ruin behind.

The worst of these ravagers were the Zarduki, the Reavers, a tribe from the Dark East, all worshippers of a dark and terrible god. Their ships were shaped like horrible monsters from the abbyss, and the horror they inflicted on their victims were beyond words. The mere rumor of their coming could make staunch men flee with their families, abandoning their homes and their possessions.

The worst of the Zarduki was a man called Smyiewitch. When his ship hit the shores, those who were killed were the lucky ones. There are many tales of people flayed alive and things so horrid I will not put it in ink. For years and year this foul beast and his vicious dogs struck at will, killing scores, and carrying scores again off to their home beyond the Eastern Shore.

Written in the margin, in faded ink, is the following: Smyiewitch means Son of the Wyrm.

Amongst the peoples who made their home on the Southern Shore there was at that time a tribe of men called the Aneredi. They were a fair and proud people, although their martial might lay already then lost in days long gone. The Aneredi were particularly tormented by Smyiewitch and his evil men, perhaps because, as one story tells, because the daughter of Rethror, their king. The princess, Aleriane, was said to be fair as a summers morn, and the Lord of the Reavers was enthralled by her the very minute he saw her.

Smyiewitch vowed to wipe out her entire people unless the princess gave herself to him, and for twelve years the beastly ships of the Reavers tormented the villages of the Aneredi. At last her father gave in to the demands of the dark lord, and chained his beautiful daughter to a rock by the seashore. This stone still stands, and the spot is to this day called Aleriane's Grief.

The princess was left thus fettered for three days, until finally she could see the dark sails coming out of the mist. At this moment she called out to all the gods, and such was her beauty and her grief that the gods themselves were moved. She cursed her father, and she cursed the Lord of the Reavers, and with a shard of flint she had found on the shore she took her own life.

At that moment a great storm came upon the White Ocean, scattering the ships and breaking them upon the rocks. Smyiewitch was swept out to the great depths; his men were thrown overboard and his ship was battered by wind and waves.

The story now tells us, by what authority I am unaware, that as death was finally upon him, Smyiewitch cursed the gods and gave his soul to the Things of the Deep.

The fate of king Rethror was that of seeing his sons killed in battle, his people conquered, his lands divided amongst his neighbours, and finally to himself to die of old age, alone and forgotten.


Written in the margin, in red ink, is the following: Is this legend of Captain Radoslav the Defiler?

A Scene

The Star Chamber is bathed in the cold light of the silvery constellations in the floor. On the Throne of Thorns the Queen of Sorrow sits, magnificent, cold, terrifying. Half hidden in the shadows between the ancient pillars that line the circular chamber hooded figures stand, immovable, as if in silent vigil.

The silence is broken by the sound of heavy boots, the echoes travelling ahead -- every step, some even say every stray thought, within the walls of the Citadel of Broken Dreams can be heard from the queen's throne-room. The queen herself seldom leaves the Star Chamber these days. Her court carries out her will on three continents, her every whim is seen to with devoted, unquestioning obedience. From her throne she can reach far away, to punish or reward.

The steps are drawing closer. They are those of a large man, a man who rarely treads on solid ground. It is the steps of one who comes to pledge his existence to his queen. It is the steps of Captain Radoslav the Undying of the Black Ship Sepulchre.

The great, bearded mariner is heralded by a gust of foul air, like from within the rotting belly of an ancient tomb. The queen's smile is like a poisonous dagger unsheathed. She knows her audience comes unwilling, and that he has no more choice than any slave summoned before his mistress. He is a brute, but he is now the First of the Black Mariners. Armand's demise was a blow, but she has other servants to take the place of those who fail.

Captain Radoslav enters the Star Chamber, his pace steady, not stopping before he is thirteen paces from the throne. He kneels on the constellation called The Enemy by the Erians. His gaze is defiantly held on the queen herself, but within moments he casts it to the floor and mutters in a deep, coarse voice, "Majesty, Your servant awaits your pleasure."

"Tell me, captain, have you carried out your instructions?" The voice of the queen is melodious and terribly cold.

"Aye, Majesty, that I have. The Leviathan and the Despair are in possition, awaiting orders. The Drachen is gathering the ships of Forlorn Hope, and the others are still maintaining the Blockade. All as I was commanded, Majesty."

"Good, good. I trust you will not disappoint me, captain."

Silence. Then, "A question, if it please you, Majesty."

"By all means, captain."

"The Pius Cabal. What do you wish me to do with them?"

The queen laughs. "I have no doubt that in the unlikely event of their survival they will seek you out, my dear Radoslav."

"Good. The Exalted owes me a hat."

The queen laughs again and rises from the throne. As she does, her silvery robe slides off her with an inaudible sigh. She stalks towards the kneeling undead, gracefully, her hips and breasts swaying as she moves, her fiery hair in sharp contrast to her flawless, alabaster skin. She moves behind her captain, letting her slender fingers caress the decayed fabric of his coat.

"It is time we consummate your new position, my dear," she whispers into the ear of her new admiral.

"Your wish, Majesty," Captain Radoslav says as he rises. His clothes fall to the floor as if compelled by an invisible force, revealing scarred, tattered and torn dead flesh that barely covers the wicked bones of the Black Ship Captain.

Soon the queen and the undead are copulating madly on the field of stars -- he silent, relentless, she loud and wild.

The hooded figures stand silent, their vigil uninterrupted. Outside of the Citadel the bells of Mūr-Chadrac are tolling.

The Kraken, by Alfred Tennyson

Below the thunders of the upper deep;

Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep

The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee

About his shadowy sides: above him swell

Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;

And far away into the sickly light,

From many a wondrous grot and secret cell

Unnumbered and enormous polypi

Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.

There hath he lain for ages and will lie

Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;

Then once by man and angels to be seen,

In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

"The Kraken" first appeared in Poems, Chiefly Lyrical. By Alfred Tennyson.

Source: The Victorian Web

Elder Sign

Please take a minute to watch the following infomercial.

Have a good day.

A Conversation in the Dark

The two men stood on the aft-deck of the great ship gazing landward. All was quiet -- grim sailors stood by their posts, and bar the faint green light of a single lantern the ship was cloaked in an impenetrable darkness. So close to the harbour it lay that the night-time sounds of the city could be heard drifting across the murky water.

"I have done as you commanded, my Lord," the taller of the two said, his voice low and throaty. "The men are in place, and the cargo is hidden and ready."

"Have you made contact with the Priest," the other man asked, smaller in stature but infinitely more imposing, his voice like a dagger hidden in soft, black velvet.

"Yes, my Lord, he told me his flock was prepared and awaiting the signal."

"Just make certain you succeed, Master Corvin. If you fail you would be better served by dying than to return defeated, the Queen herself has taken interest in this now."

The two stood in silence a while, each locked in his own thoughts. At length the sound of oars breaking the water could be heard, then from below a soft "Hoi there!".

Corvin bowed to the other man, went to the railing and without another word he climbed down the ladder to the small boat being maneuvered up to the massive black hull.

Captain Armand stood looking after the boat until it passed behind the harbour's breakwater before he said, "Take her out, Mr. Blunt."

Quietly like a great predator the Kraken slipped out to sea.

I, Cthulhu

If you're in to cthulhiana and Neil Gaiman, here's a story about Old Squid-Face by that same writer: I, Cthulhu, or, What’s A Tentacle-Faced Thing Like Me Doing In A Sunken City Like This (Latitude 47° 9' S, Longitude 126° 43' W)?

Gaiman is one of my favourite writers, and especially American Gods and Neverwhere have inspired my metaphysics greatly.

In your wake

~The Arrival~

Artist: Peter Oedekoven

This picture so neatly depicts a scene I described in the piece 'Simultaneously, somewhere else' that I had to post it.

Despair

~Leviathan of Despair~

Artist: Patrick Schemat

Since the Prince of Nightmares, Lord Morfæus, disappeared, Lord Gilgul has continued to strengthen the Dreamshield in preparation for the Coming of the Olympos. However, without the leadership of the Dreamlord, the nightmares are changing.

When Morfæus forged the Dreamshield, he drew upon the fears of the Deep to gain strength, and while Lord Gilgul's Dream Wardens, as well as the Bearers of the Letter, will hunt and kill any nightmare that serves the Exarch, some dreams have become powers in their own right.

Lately, the Leviathans have begun to walk the Dreaming. Their Gift is Despair, and those visited by them will sink into depression and melancholy, often ending with sudden suicides.

Yolander's Third Letter

Storyteller's note: The following was published in the Committee of Correspondents' printsheet, 'The Correspondent' in Dodecium YE1021.

This is written by Yolander van Zaar's player and submitted to the Book of Worlds.


Third letter – personal chronology:



Esteemed Correspondents, Enlightened and Practitioners of Gifts most Arcane


The Host of Man are victorious on the fronts of the colonies. The Old Enemy has risen from the deep – the gargantuan Kraken ended Cora. The red eye of the night skies is evident. The fomori are legion, and walk amongst us. Corrupted ships of old reign the seas. The great plague Naglfar was hindered with great sacrifice.


And STILL the Unity of man is wanting.


The pogrom of the enlightened has gone on for too long. We must ally ourselves with those of man that understand the wonder of the exalted.


Rulers of nations Pendrell, Aragon and Corinth; Powers of ideologies Cabal of Pure Thought and Temple of Man Supreme have been corrupted and are ENEMIES of ASCENSION!

Join us in our most desperate hour, or ALL will perish.

I, Yolander van Zaar, adeptus temporis, having seen the future, call for radical measures – I summon a grand convocation of the awakened!


Truth until Paradox!


YvZ

Yuletide Greetings

Ah, Christmas... I've been celebrating with my family, and have enjoyed myself immensely. However, all things must come to an end. I'm preparing to return to the Rainy City, and eventually to work. I have a few posts in the pipeline, and hopefully I'll get them up before I run out of year.

In the meantime, and since it's still Christmas, I'll give you some light entertainment.







God jul alle sammen!

Why We're Here

I found this one just recently, and since I've already opened for comics here, I'll give you Why We're Here, a short introduction to the horrible world of Cthulhu by Steve Ellis and Fred Van Lente.

The last chapter

Blockade Running/Ambush!

The last chapter ended with the Company waking up after the long nightmare in the middle of the day. This chapter started with them trying to figure out why they were sick. Besides, Banzel was in no shape to travel.

M'narcel, besides being the only one besides the Prince who wasn't afflicted, was also the only one with any medical insight (both arcane and academic). Also, he used to study the gentle art of poisoning before he was called to adventure. And so, after his preliminary examinations, he could reveal that poisoning was indeed the cause of the ailment.

Now, determining the poison after the fact is a most difficult task. So the good medicus went outside to summon a spirit, as is his way these days. After a couple if hours sitting in the sun he returned; a snake had told him, "poison from stolen stinger." A most straight forward answer, coming from a spirit.

The next step was fast, and it was determined that it was the ammunition Banzel had taken off the Hellghast that was causing it all. The radiation was causing their bodies to break down. The 21 brass-cased shells are now stored in a lead chest. The rest of the day was used to sit back and enjoy the shade -- the Pius Cabal decided to rest.

Before going to bed, Banzel, the one hardest afflicted, quaffed a waterskin of the Vìs he brought from the encounter with Blackstaff. On waking up the next morning, the heroes found that anything organic in a three yard radius around Banzel, clothes, blankets, boots, tent, grass, had decomposed. Banzel had discovered a cure for his desease, while simultaneously proving that gorging oneself on Mana can cause unexpected effects. Fit as a fiddle, Banzel started up the Automotor, and thus the Company started on the way home.

There had been some debate about what to do with the men left in the halfway fort. Van Zaar would rather he didn't have to see any of them until they were back on Pius, and suggested that they be given their marching orders through arcane means. Someone here made it a heated discussion when it was suggested that van Zaar's true motivation was his dislike for Lt. Lance. On the captain's orders, they followed the roads along the river. Through the liberated Muhwal, Free City of Man (full of the Host's followers and former slaves) to Fort Pius (so named by the Glencaellyn Rifles). Here the Prince did some packing, and with the Automotor loaded close to submission with the entire marine command, and the Pius Cabal rode off the theatre, flanked by the running Enæìd.

[Storyteller's note: It amuses me no end that sometimes the worst thing you can do to your players is to be nice.]

They find the stretch of coast where they hid the Pius, and within the hour M'narcel found the Shaderealm where they had anchored. They come in to the shallow river valley through the vegetation beneath the ruined aqueduct. They are hailed by the picket, and let through to the idyllic scene; the ship anchored in clear water, green trees, sailors working on the ship, carrying baskets aboard, or lounging in their free-watch.

The passenger they had asked to keep an eye on the ship had left a letter when he left five days ago, and all was in order. The crew seemed happy. And this freaked the captain out. There was some general paranoia at first, not at all helped by enthusiastic sailors or the fact that the captain couldn't see their thoughts. The majority settled when M'narcel declared that he could sense the ship's Awakened spirit.

Since they have to wait for the tide, they couldn't sail in almost twelve hours. Banzel got right to work with his new Project, building an airship. He recruited the ship's carpenters and sailmakers as well, and utterly dominated the ships attention. The captain was in a foul mood, and decided he hadn't talked to Octavian in a while. Sadly this didn't work, as the captain's Arts do not cover the Sphere of Spirit, and since they're anchored up in a spirit realm he can't reach out.

As the night fell, it became obvious that Banzel needed more time. M'narcel had also gotten involved at this point. His previous experiments with wind spirits made him attempt to bind one to the airship. He climbed up to the crowsnest and launched a kite into the winds. It took a while before something took the lure. For two hours he battled with the windling before it got away, the kite falling broken to the deck.

The captain was somewhat put out by the situation. It got even worse when he found that he could not commune with anyone outside the shaderealm. When the weighing of the anchor was postponed to allow Banzel time to finish, Galan withdrew to brood in his quarters. Van Zaar kept walking around all night, slipping in and out of subjective time.

Come the day after, the Pius weighed anchor and left the shaderealm. Banzel still had some work to do on his great project and was still at it in his workshop.

On entering the graphite-grey waters of the Bay of Oden the crew could see the heavy, dark stormfront of the blockade.

A few hours after the ship entered the bad weather the aft lookout called sails. Captain Galan quickly ascertained that it was a Black Ship, one they hadn't encountered before, and that it was coming up fast on an intercept course. Not long after the first contact another ship was called, this time ahead. This was the Sepulchre. They had sailed into an ambush. The two Black Ships planned to catch the Pius between their broadsides and send her into the deep.

Thanks to the captain's hard sailing they managed to outsail the ship behind them, but the Sepulchre lying ahead was drawing relentlessly closer. On the decks of the enemy ships the men on the Pius could witness a horrible ritual taking place. Twelve young girls were brought up, then thrown overboard as the crews chanted, "Bait! Bait! Bait!" The Pius was also coming into range of the Sepulchre's guns by now.

Artist: Martin McKenna

Galan had taken the Hermetic pistol (taken off a defeated Proxima on the first voyage of the Pius) to the bow, and as he fired at the Sepulchre's captain, the rest of the Cabal sprung to action. From the captain's cabin Galan opened a portal to the aft castle of the Black Ship. Aegir and M'narcel charged through, and the Enæìd attacked the Sepulchre's captain, Radoslav. M'narcel's plan was to command the drowned men and take control of the Black Ship -- this didn't work as planned. The Prince and the dark mariner fought in a flurry of blows while the forlorn crew pushed the worlock towards the railing. Severly wounded, Aegir felled his foe, only to see the massive bow of the Sepulchre push through the waves. The Black Ship was diving. Galan back on the Pius felt his spell being severed, but managed to keep the portal open long enough for the Prince to drag M'narcel through.

Artist: Martin Vocet

On deck, Banzel became aware of something large moving in the dark water. Something had answered the summoning. The ship following them, now close enough that M'narcel could feel its name, Despair, was coming up on range, and around them great tentacles were flailing as the enormous seamonster maneuvered to attack. It was obvious to the heroes that hard sailing alone would not be enough to escape, so they turned to magic.

Using everything they knew, the magicians of the Pius Cabal managed to get some distance on both the monster and the Despair, but it would not be enough. And so, when the Sepulchre rose to the surface again, within range, things looked bleak.

They decided that the only way out of the trap was to make the Pius fly. The airship's balloon was rigged to lift the ship, everything, cannons, food, goods, even the Automotor, was thrown overboard. Great spells were cast, all the Mana the Cabal possessed were used to fuel the magic, prayers were uttered, and at last, with cannonballs zooming towards her, Pius took flight.

The chapter ended with the Pius sailing above the dark clouds of the blockade.

Storyteller's note: This was an interesting session. The lads are now starting to fully realize two things. First, that they are now right powerful magicians, second, that their enemies have noticed them.

They now have less than four days to locate and stop the plague ship Naglfār, their ship is unarmed, and they have provisions for one week on half rations.

The good men of the Pius Cabal are truly living in interesting times.



Oh, and make sure you click on the octopus-pic to get the full experience.

Hello Cthulhu

"I saw him on a sleepless night when I was walking desperately to save my soul and my vision."

~H.P. Lovecraft, "He"

Cthulhu has become a fixture in the Book of Worlds. Now, while the Misadventures of Hello Cthulhu has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the Deep, the comic is still right entertaining (and presumably it incurs no permanent loss of sanity).

Picture hosted by: Hello Cthulhu