Chapter 13
The Acrostic of Dr, Joquin Tilbur
BANG!
A bullet cracked through the air and tore through the twin shoulders of the bear man and the old woman hybrid—thing—that towered in front of them; ripping through fur and flesh as the twin sound of two distinct screams filled the small hall of the makeshift infirmary. Star stood his ground, smoking pepperbox still trained on the abomination in front of him. It was an instinctual shot, made as a gut reaction; his coral eyes stared wide in shock.
The bear man's huge arm tested the wound, as the old lady from the back of his head stared at Star in fury. "Bjorn! Charge!" She screeched as a guttural bear roar echoed across the infirmary. It charged. Wildly grabbing the bottom frames of beds and throwing it behind it to gain momentum as it made is mad, furious dash toward the Tentacle Faced Gunslinger.
BANG! BANG!
Two more shots rang through the air, one colliding with the back wall, and the other stopping, as if caught by a fine purple net made of light, right in front of the face of the furious old woman. Her eyes flashed a deep violet. Star doubled back rushing behind a bed, fumbling in his coat for a reloader.
Da'La sprang into action as the beast… woman… thing barreled down the narrow walkway between the beds, leaving in its wake overturned frames and tossed mattresses. Da'La pivoted with her foot to enter a tepé. Her foot rolled on the side, turning a gracious leap turned into a stumble, in which Bjorn with his giant hand, batted the Sword Dancer into an upturned frame behind him.
Margaret, in a hurry stepped back, out of the way of the wave of destruction charging at them, and began a chant into her sigil, while Roddick took a crouching position. With a quiet evocation, and the magenta gem on the back of his hand glowing, a blast of light, like a luminescent cloud of gas, burst from his hand rocketing him in a flip into the air, and over the charging beast. Still upside down, Roddick came eye to eye with the fused witch on the back of the bear. Lightning charged from his catalyst and he jutted his hand upward (or downward) right into the face of the old sorceress. The old woman’s eyes flashed violet and the charging bolt reverberated through Roddick, blasting back, and sending him tumbling into the wake of the bear man.
Star with a swift flick, flipped his chamber, letting the bullet shells clang to the floor. He held a clip, resembling a small cabinet knob attached to a brass plate holding 4 bullets, all inscribed with delicate filigree. He placed the bullets into the chamber and hurriedly twisted the knob, listening to the thundering steps quickly approaching him. As he flipped the chamber back into position and sent a pulse of current through the handle, priming the gun, he felt the bed to his back being ripped from behind him with incredible force and he fell backward.
The back of Star's head hit the wood floor, and his hat tumbled backward. Looking up in a daze, Star looked into the eyes of the bear-faced man towering over him, orange eyes locked on him as it snarled. Drool came down the side of Bjorns mouth. Star quickly snapped his gun up, but before he could pull the trigger, the giant hand of Bjorn wrapped around his arm and jerked him upward.
"To the right, Bjorn!" snarled the witch on the bear's back, the bear turned its head to see Margaret, surrounded in a golden, fiery aura, her hands to her chest, positioned like she was holding a ball, her curly red hair dancing from an intangible wind over her head. Between her hands, her catalyst, the brass shield with diamond made of opposing Vs etched on it, floating, glowing bright as light swirled into it from her fingertips. The light reached a blinding pitch and bulged out toward the monstrosity.
The bear-man pivoted and with a jerk of its arm, overhand chucked Star right toward Margaret, where Star, scrambling his arms, collided with the beam of Golden light Margaret was blasting from her hands; then, his coat smoking from the beam, Star crashed through the beam of light and into Margaret. Both collided against the side wall, crumpling on to a nearby bed.
Da'La reached her feet just in time to see the animalistic toss of Star into her charge. Da'La took a deep breath, but the clear didn't come. She took another breath, and with an attempt at grace, ran up the bottom of a steel bedframe that was positioned in front of her like a ramp, and leapt through the air in an attempt at a gainer. In mid spin something struck her shoulder with force enough to take her off her midair balance, and she crashed to the floor several feet from the woman fused to the back of the bear. Her head rang, and a pain shot through her clavicle. A knife protruded from her shoulder. She grasped it, and with a cry, pulled it out. Blood gushed after it and splattered on the wooden floor.
She looked toward the backside of the room, she saw Roddick who was standing up, and turning toward Da'La. Behind Roddick, two figures slowly walked into the light, the first was wearing a blue nightgown, and had orange hair with the sides shaved giving him the appearance of an inverse carrot. His eyes, dull blue with a scar coming down his square jaw to… no mouth. His mouth was gone, like it had never been there. In its place was a long scar in the shape of a mouth, as if someone had cut into it, bisecting it out of some morbid curiosity. Da'La recognized the mouthless man. He was the poor fool who had mouthed off to Mema Hadwick. But that scar was new. In his hand was a glinting knife, like a surgical knife, identical to the one in Da'La's shoulder.
Behind the mouthless man, shambling into view, with its leg dragging behind it, a vaguely humanoid shape, tall and thin. Covered head to toe in tightly wrapped cloth bandaging, soaked red with blood. At a glance, between the bandages, Da'La’s eyes could see nothing but muscular sinew, as if its skin was peeled off. It dragged something behind it.
Roddick focused his eyes on the witch, as the bear man stepped toward Star and Margaret, who struggled off each other to their feet. He raised his hand in an evocation, purple flames gathering and dancing up his fingertips.
"Roddick!" Da'La cried, and then Roddick felt something crash against his side. With a lurch, he was lifted from his feet, and he slammed against the steel foot rail of a bed, his chest bashed against it and the air escaping his lungs.
The shambling man held what appeared to be a large broken off piece of a bed frame in his hands, and it shambled toward Roddick.
Da'La scrambled to her feet, pulling her swords in one swift motion, but in the fray her Wakizashi slipped from her hand. Her hand was numb and dry. Steeling herself, grasping her katana, she sprinted toward the Shambler, katana pointed toward it. She slammed into it, tackling it, running it through with her blade.
Bjorn thundered toward Star and Margaret, ripping the bed they had just jumped from out of the way just as they got to their feet. He opened his mouth, and from his maw a purple light gathered in it. Star fumbled the Messenger into his hands, his Pepperbox lost in the confusion. Star’s back still burning, he steeled focus and gripped the trigger he made aim. A white-hot pain blasted through his left shoulder, but it wasn't whatever Bjorn was firing, it was from behind him. A golden beam of energy had erupted, clipping his shoulder, and hitting Bjorn in the chest, pushing him back and snapping his mouth shut as purple energy erupted from the side of his mouth, blowing out his cheeks.
"What the hell?" Star yelled, grasping his smoking arm, as he looked back toward Margaret, her golden eyes locked on the bear-witch beast, hands poised in front of her.
The mouthless man sprung on to Da'La's back, stabbing his knife into her shoulder blade. She cried out as warm blood soaked the back of her coat. Roddick pushed himself off the bed in a stumble, sharply intaking air as the pain overwhelmed him. Every breath was accompanied by this sharp stabbing pain that rushed through his chest and into his back. He lurched unthinkingly and, with a tight fist, punched the mouthless man in his mouthless jaw, knocking the man off Da'La. Roddick grasped his ribs, barely holding to his feet.
Da'La began to stand, but the Shambler grabbed her by the coat, and ripped her downward; sending her tumbling, leaving her coat behind gripped into the hands of the Shabler.
Bjorn grasped his face in a loud painful howl, which harmonized with the high-pitched cry of the witch. Star looked over to Margaret, her glowing golden eyes still locked in fury at the bear man. He scrambled back to his feet wincing at the burning pain in his shoulder and his back and ran. He moved in a circle around Bjorn, wheeling around the bear man, pointing his rifle as he dashed.
CRACK! SH-TCK! CRACK! SH-TCK!
He fired in rapid succession, priming the lever with every shot. The bullets tore through the sides of the bear man, forcing it to stumble on its other leg. The fur covered flesh tearing and dripping blood, accompanied by the muted impacts of the bullets. Star steeled his stance, running a finger down the side of the stock of his gun as filigree sparking to life glowing a bright orange. He steadied the silver barrel of the messenger, as an intake of air rushed to the tip of his barrel. Bjorn turned to him, and roared, the sides of his mouth torn open, bits of flesh and sinew stretching to reveal the rows of sharp teeth and bloodied gums. Stars coral eyes narrowed at the beast. Right as he began to pull the trigger, a giant golden hand the size of Bjorn popped from the ground, grasping the beast and slapping the beast down to the floor.
WFFFF-BOOOOOM!
The shockwave released from the barrel, going over the beast’s head and barreling right down the long hall of the infirmary, screaming directly toward Roddick, who stood in a daze clutching his chest. Star tried to yell, but at that moment Roddick was yanked down by Da'La, who through quick thinking, grabbed his coat and yanked him out of the way. The wave of compressed air slammed into the chest of the standing Shambler, who was lifted from his feet and tossed, crashing halfway through the back wall. Star was stunned. But before he could register what he just saw, Bjorn rose to his feet.
"That's it!" the witch screamed from the back of the bear man. The beds around her began to glow an incandescent purple, and shaking they lifted from the ground. "Enough! Fun!" Anger spilled from her shrill voice. Star looked around for cover, none was to be found.
Margaret sprinted to Star's side, holding her Sigil, a glowing golden light beaconing from it, lighting the room. The beds lifted to the height of the broken bear's head, as they trembled in the air, held by an unseen force. The bear lifted his large hands like a marionette, pulled by invisible strings, then his arms dropped, flinging themselves down toward the Gunslinger and the Priestess, the beds catapulting toward them.
Margaret closed her golden glowing eyes and spoke a chant as the beds careened through the air at her. A bubble of golden light blast out in front of her, and like a tidal wave of golden energy, collided with the beds and shot them straight back toward their source, colliding with Bjorn and his twisted rider, lifting them from their feet and sending them screaming backward toward Roddick, Da'La, and the mouthless man.
"Da'La!" Star screamed at the realization.
Da'La looked over to see a tsunami of bear, beldame, and beds avalanching toward them at great speed. She stood frozen; it filled the room. There was no escaping it. It was massive, fast, and powerful. In a second it would crash into her with lethal force.
She felt something grab her, and wrap around her body, pulling her, jerking her to the ground. It was Roddick, who spun her around, his back pointed toward the wave coming at them. Next was a deafening chorus of crashing, breaking, colliding force. But Roddick and Da'La stood still, covered in a shimmering blue-magenta light.
After the cacophony subsided, Da'La, amazed to still be alive, looked up. The light that danced off her body slowly faded as she looked behind her. Almost everybody, every shelf, table, and structure, was pushed against the back wall of the infirmary in a tightly packed cluster. She could see the broken body of the bear man, and the leg of the mouthless man sticking out. As well as her Wakizashi she had dropped earlier stabbed into a bed.
She looked toward Roddick, who caught her eyes with his glimmering blue. A boyish smile adorned his face. "Nothing to it…" He said weakly. Then collapsed. The room went black.
Nothing but the moonlight from the hole they had ripped open to get in, and the fiery golden aura coming off Margaret pierced through the darkness. The small light must have been a casualty of the torrent of beds.
Da'La gently let him to the ground, looking over him. She scanned him, checked his pulse. He was alive and wasn't really hurt, aside from the injury on the side of his chest.
Margaret, the glowing aura slowly dissipating to a low murmur that acted as a lantern through the darkness of the room, walked toward them.
"You could have killed them!" Star yelled, walking after her.
"They're alive." Margaret said flatly. "I trusted Roddick."
"You were reckless!" Star yelled back.
Margaret wheeled around, locking her fiery golden eyes on Star, "No." She said forcefully. "I'm powerful." She corrected, anger biting through her voice. "More powerful than I ever imagine…" She said, turning back toward Roddick and Da'La, her hand glowing gold. With a look, she ushered Da'La aside, and knelt over Roddick, putting her hand on his chest. Roddick's glimmering blue eyes opened as he breathed in sharply. He grabbed his chest, confusion washing over his face. Roddick sat up.
He was quiet for a moment, then looked at Margaret, "… my rib was broken."
"See, Star?" Margaret said with a smile. "Far more powerful now… So, you just need to stay out of my line of fire."
Star entered the small, cramped corridor that led from the infirmary room to… Well, he didn't quite know. At least he had managed to recover his pepperbox, which had landed in a corner behind where Margaret had started her assault. The other doors were blocked by beds and bodies, or the door that led back outside. Star had briefly considered taking that one but was left at a loss of where he would go. Plus, he couldn't just abandon Roddick and Da'La. This door seemed the only way forward, and considering the noise, it wasn't as if they could afford to stay still long.
The hallway was at least lit. Filigree was drawn along the ceiling and shone a dim yellow. The hallway was a service hallway. Wood floors, with wooden paneling coming up to the chest, that ran into trimming that framed red wallpapered sections in shapes that looked somewhat like a dormer window. The hallway was relatively short, with a small service door at the end of it. Star was at the back, with Margaret leading the charge. They all quietly agreed to this as to stay out of the way lest Margaret inflict her help on them.
Margaret opened the door slowly and peered in. The first thing that assaulted her was the smell. The ever present acrid antiseptic smell wasn't gone, it was worse than ever. It was just layered with the putrid smell of opened bodies and turned flesh. The room was lit by pale yellow filigree drawn along its rafters, with hanging lamps that looked like upside-down copper bowls, that were widened and etched with glowing glyphs that shone brightly through the room. Inside was a set of three giant windows that looked out into the small, wooded area outside of the Pfharplace. The light of the moon coming in from and angle casting shadows to the back wall to the right of her. To the immediate left was a wall, with the same wood paneling, but the red wallpaper lacked the flourish of the dormer-like trimming. Several places along the wall were lighter in the shape of squares and rectangles, as if paintings had once hung there. The right wall, toward the back of the room, stood a set of wood stairs, with pale and weathered steps and tacks sticking out of the sides, as if some carpet had been laid but had since been pulled out. They lead to a landing, then pivoted to the right and up to the next floor. Along the wall immediately to the right was a set of double swinging doors. Toward the center of the room was a large, polished table, like the kind found in manors. What it lacked in chairs (which she could see were stacked up and broken in the spot under the stairs), candles, and accoutrement, it made up for in bodies.
The bodies, roughly humanoid but with some significant ailments of some sort. None of them seemed to have limbs proportionate to their body, or indeed one another. One of them had a shoulder that bulged, leading to an unsettlingly skinny arm that reached to the knee, with the arm that looked withered. Another's foot that looked halfway to chicken talon, the toes sprawled out and elongates, splitting their feet in half. Still the other's skin was full of holes, like the pours had opened far too much and then let all the blood out. Most unsettlingly their faces. Each one looked as if some sculptor and pulled on their nose and lips, and their skin just followed the molding clay to a point, almost looking the beak of a swallow. They were all cut open, their cavities sprawling outward.
Margaret covered her face with the sleeve of the button up Roddick had lent her. This alleviated the smell, somewhat. The group piled into the hall, looking around. Roddick, with a curious look, walked toward the table.
"Vhat is zis place?" Da'La asked, her voice between confusion and horror.
"If I were to hazard a guess this was a banquet hall, that has been since converted into a mortuary of some sort." Roddick answered, looking inside the cavernous opening of the cadavers.
Star walked along the right-hand wall, gripping his pistol, walking toward the double swinging doors.
"What in the twelve hells is he doing?" Margaret asked, moving alongside Roddick, staring at the mutated bodies.
"… Experimenting…" Roddick answered, uncharacteristically briefly.
"To figure out what?" Margaret asked, her golden eyes not moving from the things at the table.
"Can't be sure…" Roddick said, lost in the horror of the thing.
Star kicked open the swinging door, pointing his Pepperbox inward.
Inside was a cramped kitchen area. It had a white and black diamond checkered tile wall, which stood over a row of black woodfire stoves toward the back. A large sturdy prep table, whose splintering wood and caved corners indicated years of use. In pikes along the wall and hangers of the ceiling, were hung incomplete sets weathered and patina's pans. Toward the left, on the wall adjacent the stoves, were two large black ovens that looked like giant black pears with grates on the front standing on steel legs with a steel exhaust piped into the ceiling. The room was dark but for the pale-yellow light coming from the banquet hall.
"What are you doing, Star?" Margaret called.
Star stepped into the kitchen, Pepperbox drawn, "Making sure there isn't and am… bush…" He spotted in the darkness 3 silhouetted figures crouched behind the prep table. He pointed his gun, "Hands up, Stand up." He ordered.
"Please." Came a panicked voice as they stood up, "Don't hurt us." It was a full voice, a woman's voice with a pronounced burr, but wide. The kind of voice that nannies used, or at least the kind people affected when reading stories that included nice plump nannies. The three figures stood, the middle a portly silhouette flanked by two smaller ones.
"Just come into the light." Star said, pointing his gun at the floor.
They walked toward him, and Star instinctively backed up. He let out a sigh of relief. It was a portly woman, roughly middle aged, with poufy auburn hair, and dark grey eyes. She was wearing a leather face mask, the kind surgeons wore. She was dressed modestly in a brown dress and what presumably once was a white smock that was stained into a light brown. Flanking her were two young boys, the smaller was wearing tattered trousers and a dirty shirt and had blonde-yellow hair, and a set of piercing and defiant frost blue eyes. The taller, who stood just under the woman's height wore shorts, with red scraped knees, and no shirt. He had open and scared hazel eyes.
"We promise," The woman held the two kids close, "We're no danger to ye."
Star holstered his gun, "We have three people in here." He called out to the others.
"Da'La, go help." He heard Margaret order flatly.
"They're not hostile." Star said. "A mother and two kids." He turned back to them. "Who are you?" He asked.
"Maddy Bruen. These are my kids." The large lady answered in a hurry, "We're attendants to the Pfharplace… what's left of us, at least."
"What happened to the rest?" Star asked, afraid of the answer.
Madeline eyed the door, as if looking passed it to the table. Star got the message.
"Look, can you sit tight? Hide in here? Stay quiet?"
"Mostly." The mother confirmed. "But the noises, they frighten poor Kallan." She held the larger boy, who crumpled into his mother's embrace, as he stared wide eyed at Star.
"I need you to try." Star said, affecting the most soothing voice he could muster.
"Ya 'ere ta kill em?" The younger boy said, a sudden fire lighting behind his eyes.
"Brali!" The mother called out.
"I'm… here to take care of it." Star answered carefully, "Just keep quiet in here."
"Star!" Margaret called from the other room, "You alive?"
"Coming!" Star called back. He then touched his long finger to his front tentacle, mimicking the gesture he had seem others use to warn people to remain quiet. He turned and walked out the doors.
The others stood near the stairs, Margaret sitting on the bottom step, Da'La at attention next to her, and Roddick adjusting his cufflinks by the banister.
"Upstairs our next move?" Star asked.
"Should be bedrooms leading to the office." Margaret answered. "Bastard probably took up shop in my office."
The top of the stairs turned sharply left and extended out into a wide hallway that led to a set of double doors toward the end of it. The left wall was lined with unassuming wooden doors with patina's pewter handles and the numbers 1-8 in a pale outline toward the center top where plates used to be nailed. In the space between the doors were either copper sconces, with a filigree rimmed stem jutted from them that shone a pale-yellow light, or a conspicuous hole in the wall where such a stem would be.
Along the right wall was a long set of arch windows that looked out through dormers and peaked out just over the southern wall of Twilight run into the night sky. Margaret stepped onto the weathered plank floor, followed by Da'La, Roddick, and finally Star. Margaret led the group, striding with purpose through the hallway. Da'La and Roddick flanked behind her, and Star curiously walked along the line of doors.
Star tried a handle, it was open. He crept the door open peering in with his Pepperbox drawn. The light from the hallway revealed a dark wood lined room with a straw bed, like an old inn bed. In the corner was what appeared to be an old-style waste bucket that emanated a sickly green light. Star shut the door, moving on.
"What is our plan?" Star asked, trailing behind the rest of them.
"We go in, and you stay behind me." Margaret said, her face steeled with certainty.
"Oh good! Here I thought we were just gonna to wing it." Star's sarcasm bit as he opened another door. This time it was just a pile of straw, its cover covered in blood and shoved into the corner.
"You saw what I can do now, Star." Margaret said.
"Yeah. Hopefully, we can make it out alive." Star opened another door in passing, this one with straw scattered along the floor, and a pile of random junk, like mage's sconces, religious paraphernalia, and pots and pans hoarded along the right wall.
Margaret sighed, and letting the anger out in her voice, she began: "Just stay behind--"
The double doors at the end of the hall opened. Swinging out into the hall. Standing in front of what appeared to be a parlor, with red wallpaper and a dangling chain from the ceiling behind them, were two men. Both wore leather surgical masks and full sleeved tunics that were tightened with string around the wrists. Both had dark hair, though one peered out with light grey eyes, and the other dark brown.
Margaret halted halfway down the hall, Da'La and Roddick stopping behind her. Star closed the door of the room he was looking in and readied his pistol.
"Take us to your boss." Margaret warned, "And you won't get hurt."
The men looked at each other, and in unison reached into a pouch on their hips and pulled glass syringes with metal plungers that shined an incandescent purple liquid. Before anyone could react, they stabbed themselves in the arm with the syringes.
"What the…" Roddick began, but then the transformation started.
The one on the right's shoulder bulged, and his spine began to stick out of his shirt like spikes. The left one's face elongated as his teeth popped out of his mouth. Their legs began to grow, their knees with a sickening pop inverted.
Da'La sprung into action. Not waiting for this to reach its conclusion, she sprinted. It wasn't an elegant tepé, or a leaping gainer. It was a run. She let out a feral battle cry and leapt, her blades over her head, pointed toward the growing form of the man on the right, driving her blades downward onto his back. The man beast let out a howl somewhere between a human cry and the sound of breaking steel as the surgical mask popped off of his face and onto the floor. She positioned her feet on his back, and with a grunt ripped her blades out of his side, half bisecting him. As he fell to the floor as she leapt from him to the partner, bringing her blades down onto the neck of his partner.
It was over in an instant. Everyone stood stunned, as Da'La, out of breath stood in the center of the two vivisected bodies, panting as a look of anger filled her eyes.
"Good job, Da'La." Margaret was the first to break the silence. Da'La didn't react for a moment, standing almost like a feral beast in a black skin suit, with metal plates up her right side.
"Da'La?" Star moved past Margaret. Da'La took a breath and with one motion kicked off the blood from her blades and sheathed them. She stood up, regaining her composure. But to Star she felt tired… and angry. But mostly tired. She steeled her reptilian eyes and looked back toward the rest of them.
"Apologies." She began. "I did not feel zhat ve had time to vaste." She said as if that explained everything.
"Good instinct, Da'La." Roddick said in his normal chipper voice, that gained an edge of uneasiness.
"Well done." Margaret walked toward her, then nimbled her way past the bodies.
Star walked to Da'La, putting his hand on her shoulder, giving an eye of concern. She traded a glance with him as if to say: "I'm ok." It was an empty glance. Roddick likewise looked at the two. Nodding at the glance and moving forward into the room.
The room through the doors was a squarish parlor, that by all accounts compared to the rest of the place, seemed rather well put together. There was a dormer window along the right wall, and underneath it was a red cushioned couch with stained wood trimming that through age and wear had grown lighter and buffed through the years. In the middle of the room was a circular wooden table, held up by a single pedestal and two red cushioned chairs that were pushed up against it, looking as if they were facing a third chair that was not there. The left wall contained another set of large double doors, though these ones were arched and were surrounded by a perfectly arched tear in the red wallpaper where presumably a framing was. The doors were covered in an intricate design, like filigree but more decorative.
The group piled out in front of the door. Roddick checked the magenta catalyst on the back of his hand, Da'La readied her swords, Star readied his pistol, and Margaret took a breath.
The double doors swung open, warm yellow light from the outer parlor creeping on to the red decorative rug in the center of the floor. To the left was a large granite fireplace with a marble mantle whose orange fire along with the light from the parlor made up two of three lights in the room. The third came from the giant arched window that took up the back wall, as the white-blue light of the moons crept in from above, casting the shadow of its molding just behind the large desk. The desk, which was a dark stained wood with decorative patterns up its legs took up most of the back portion. It was flanked on both sides with large cages.
Margaret stepped into the room, her shadow extending in, followed by her companions. Her golden glowing eyes, with fury, looked back at the figure that sat behind her desk.
He was wearing a white coat, that buttoned from three brass buttons that line along his right shoulder. His hands were covered with two long leather gloves, that went up to his elbows. And on his head was covered in a leather mask. It was a full mask, with two metal and glass goggles inset and what could only be described as a beak, that elongated from the mouth of the mask giving him the distinct look of a carrion bird.
"Welcome to my office." The man, his voice muffled but no less loud, said officiously. His hands clasping together and his elbows on the desk. He dropped his hands and began to rise.
"Out of my chair." Margaret demanded.
"So, the Order finally sent one of their own to take my home?" The man asked, the light from the fireplace glinting from his glass goggles. "Doctor Tiblur." He introduced himself, coldly nodding his head softly.
"Out of my chair." Margaret repeated, her golden eyes steeling onto the goggles of the doctor.
"Unfortunately, I don't feel like acquiescing to the Order at this time. Apologies." The Doctor said evenly, matching the eyes of his goggles with Margaret’s.
"Suit yourself." Margaret said, then brought her sigil between her hands. A golden aura erupted around her, and her hair began to dance along her head from some intangible wind. The sigil floated between her hands and in front of her chest, as she chanted. The sigil began to glow like a beacon. Golden light filling the room.
Crack.
Tilbur's hand, now outstretched, contained a smoking derringer, that had slid from a contraption from inside his sleeve which was pointed at Margaret.
A light cascaded, centered on Margaret and pulsed through the room. The group felt the light move through them like a gentle numbness, as Margaret’s fiery aura dimmed, and she fell directly to the ground.
Da'La and Roddick rushed to Margaret, who lay on the ground.
"Margaret are you ok?" Roddick called.
Margaret sat up, holding her sigil in her hand, a bullet impressed into it. "This got in the way…" She said, breathlessly.
Roddick peered over: "What a stroke of luck!
For the bullet to get stuck!
And lodge in there in that way…
Wait what did I just say?"
Margaret looked up at Roddick, puzzled, "What is going on?" Margaret said.
Da'La, nearly automatically spoke, "Did somezhing just go wrong?"
Star, "Yeah, you’re speaking with a timing.
And your words they keep on rhyming.
Oh, dear gods! I'm doing it too!"
"What is going on with all of you?" Tilbur asked.
"None of this was my intention!" Margaret yelled.
"Maybe some sudden strange condition?" Star posited, quickly.
"Some potent drug sensation?" Da'La added.
"Or a miracle aberration." Roddick said, conclusively.
"I've seen it all before
And read it in the lore.
It's something miscast magic can do--"
"Can I help all of you?" It was Tilbur, who had become rapidly annoyed at the adlibbing poetry of his sudden guests. Tilbur leaned over his desk, looking at the chorus with his metal glass goggles.
"It's not that this hasn't been entertaining,
With your prose and poems interchaining
But you've destroyed my works, you've disrupted;
You've killed my mercs, then interrupted;
All my surgical art and grand designing!
And gods be damned I'm tired of this rhyming!"
With the final words, Tilbur slammed his hand on the desk. A purple light shot out from his hands, filling filigree that crept out from his desk, and down the sides. Da'La moved to her feet, unsheathing her swords and rushing the desk, eyes locked on the Bird masked doctor. The doors of the cages lifted with a shot, and as Da'La was reaching the desk, a figure with a blur ran out of the right-hand cage and tackled Da'La to the ground.
It was covered in feathers, except for a main long brunette hair. Its upper arms bulged and uneven with the rest of the body, creating a concave arc with its back. Its forearms were skinny, and trisected in the middle, creating an approximation of talons with two fingers on each front claw, and a thumb on the back. Its face was stretched and covered in a sort of carapace, with large fully black eyes the size of two fists each, its face that lifted and parted as it opened its mouth like a beak, revealing human teeth behind it. It bit into Da'La as she let out a cry.
A bolt of lightning screamed across the room hitting the feather hide of the thing, it is letting go of Da'La, to turn to what hit it. Roddick stared in disbelief at this perversion of nature in front of him.
"Perhaps an ill-fitting rogation…" Doctor Tilbur announced with grandeur.
"To display this chain in my creation.
But now you can see with its glory
The first step in my storied--"
CRACK!
Tilbur stopped his speech, suddenly. His white coat, at first at the center, began to stain red, and with his gloved hand he touched it. His hand shook as he adjusted his head to look at the blood and collapsed behind the desk. From the left-hand cage another feathered beast, this one with a mane of blonde hair, lurched out and over its companion, eyes locked on the Xericoz Gunman as it ran, giving an inhuman scream across the room.
CRACK! CRACK!
Star fired rapidly, as the bullets grazed the beast, tearing feathered flesh but otherwise undeterring the blond, carapace beaked beast, as it barreled into Star, knocking him off of his feet and into the parlor behind him. Star, thinking quick, positioned his Pepperbox between the teeth of the biting beast, it biting down on the steel barrel, and clenching.
Roddick spun, and began speaking an arcane invocation… but found himself rhyming in the magic language. He put his hand on his mouth to stop the words. As the brunette beast approached, thundering from behind him.
Margaret called out, "I know your spell work is engrossing,
But that… thing it's--" The beast took a taloned hand, and swiped across Roddick's side, sending him, with incredible force, into the wall, cracking the panels, "--approaching."
With a feral scream Da'La leapt on to the back of the brunette beast, plunging her swords into it. It let out a sound between a bear’s roar and the chirping of a bird, sounding somewhat like a steel beam whining as it broke. Da'La perched her feet.
"I know it's not the final hour!" Called Star, as he wrestled with his pepperbox in the blonde beast’s beak mouth.
"But maybe you can use that power?
You know, the kind you've spent all day
Bragging that you could disp--" The beast shook its head violently, sending Star crashing, sans Pepperbox, into the table of the parlor, breaking it and scattering its chairs.
Anger welled in Margaret’s voice: "I'm not sure you noticed, but my sigil, it's broken--
This rhyming is stopping focus, and the chants I use are spoken!"
Roddick pushed himself off the wall, turning to see the beast, only feet from him, with Da'La, like a rider breaking a bucking horse, holding on as the beast shook its body violently. The beast lifted its bulging shoulder, and thin mangled arm, attempting to grasp its rider. Roddick put hand over hand, and with a quick gesture put both hands forward. With a flap of his hand, he shot out a small missile of light to the side of the face of the beast, who screeched its hideous steel-like scream.
Star rolled on the ground as a talon hand slammed into what was left of the table, splinters flying, scattering through the air. He grabbed the Messenger in the same motion, pointing it toward the beast, who swatted it. Star just managed to hold on long enough to swing it back, and wield it with one arm, using its barrel to keep a little distance between him and the beast.
"Can't you just, pray or something?
Worth a shot? Better than nothing?" Star called as he scooched back with his feet.
BOOM!
The flash of the Messenger was followed by a torn hole in the bulging chest of the beast, who let out a roar as it stumbled back into the door, its weight bringing it off its hinges. Star took the moment to scramble to his feet.
Star called out, "Maggie! We need your help, I've already said--"
"I can't because the gods are de--" Margaret covered her mouth in a panic.
Roddick fired another missile, hitting the other side of the beast. He repositioned, firing again. The beast regaining its footing for a second, stumbled at the second shot. Then the third. Da'La gripped the swords, then, pulling out the Wakizashi, she stabbed it next to the Katana, then leapt down. The swords tore through the side of the beast, tearing a line down its rippling muscle, as another missile hit its face. Da'La pulled her swords down as her feet contacted the ground, and a flood of bloody ichor followed them to the ground. The brunette beast let out a deep gasp, then fell to its side.
BANG! K-CHCK! BANG!
Star backed into the hallway, firing again and again, the bullets screaming through the feathered flesh of the blonde beast. The blonde beast stumbled back against the wall, unable to maintain footing. Star ran his finger down the stock of the Messenger. The filigree glowed orange. Looking down the steel barrel, the ball of air gathered at the end. The beast craned its head, focusing its eyes on the Lawman. It leapt, pushing off the wall with its deformed talon-feet, flying through the air.
WWWSHHH BOOOOOOOM!
A shockwave let out from the Messenger, making purchase at the center of the beast. It caved its chest, and then blew through, the ribs giving way to a sudden hole, that gaped with read blood-like ichor. The blonde beast fell. Star took a breath.
Star moved through the parlor and looked back into the double doors to the large office. Da'La was sheathing her swords, her beast collapsed on the floor, and Roddick's hand still pointed at the thing, case it moved.
"Anyone injured? Are you okay?" Star rushed into the room, placing his Messenger on his back.
"Couldn't see the scuffle from the hallway.
Was dealing with my beast, my help I could not send;
Gods be damned, Maggie when will this rhyming end?"
Margaret snapped, "I don't know! I cannot tell!
It's not like miracles are a spell!
So when they're not going swell
There's no rule, so don't you yell!"
Star wheeled around, eyes locking on the Ypfhar.
"So… All this bluster and the bragging
About the power you were packing!" Star yelled, stepping toward Margaret.
At that moment something caught Roddick's eye. Something was coming over the desk.
"The insults and the ragging!" Star continued, in his fluster.
Roddick spoke in a slight panic, "Uh… I don't mean to be nagging." The thing, it was feathered, a small appendage, like a dark blue wing reaching over and grabbing the desk.
"To me, to Da'La, you whined and scolded!" Star continued, as the wing gripped the desk and pushed.
"One simple shot, you crumpled, you folded!"
Roddick began to pitch and yell, "Seriously, look at the twelve-damned desk!"
"What is it, Rodd-- Oh dear gods that's grotesque!" Star turned to the desk, to see emerging the mask… but not. It had the general shape, the long beak, and the hollow glassy eyes, but it was like a bare bird's skull, with tatters of sinew and leather, hanging from the beak. The eyes, still glassy, the metal retreating into the skull head, as fire from the fireplace flickered off the broken glass. Its body was covered in thick blue feathers that caught the light in a purple sheen. Its chest, thin and concave, gave way to two large, feathered wings that took place of his arms. He let out the feathered wing and dropped an empty syringe on the desk.
"My Apologies, I've been tardy," Perhaps what was most disturbing is Tilbur's voice was that it was unchanged in this new uncanny figure.
"My body was not as hardy…" CRACK! A shot rang through the air, and collided with the winged shoulder of Tiblur, knocking it back slightly. Tilbur readjusted.
"But I think you'll find this one suits me quite well…" Tilbur said, his voice unaltered by the shot.
Margaret added, "Oh you can go to the twelve hells…"
Tilbur leapt on top of the desk, revealing his full form, sharp talons at the end of his feathered legs, that gripped and scratched the desk. Tilbur jumped, pushing back his wings as his skull beak opened, flying straight toward Margaret.
Da'La tackled him from the side, throwing him against the fireplace mantle with her shoulder. She pulled her sword for a stab, her eyes narrowing at the beat, a wing came up and gripped her arm.
The wing moved, almost like a large hand, closing in on Da'La's arm. Da'La gripped tight for her sword against the pressure. She pulled the Wakizashi, but a talon came up from Tiblur's leg and slashed against her arm. She felt the claw tear through, and the warm feeling of blood gush over her arm, as the clinging sound of her Wakizashi skittered across the ground.
Star and Roddick lined their aim, but Da'La was in the way. Though the beast was larger, he moved her like a shield.
Tibuur headbutted Da'La, his skull bone and metal head crashing against hers. A ring filled Da’La’s ears and copper taste filled her mouth. Da'La pushed with her feet, but Tilbur held on with his iron grip wing.
Margaret stood, stunned, most chants didn't rhyme, and without her sigil most others didn't work. She cast her eyes at her Dek'Har, to Star, to Roddick.
"Why?" Tilbur asked, looking into the eyes of Da'La, hers reflecting off the glass discs, "I can smell your fatigue, I can smell that you're dry…
"Why do you persist? Why do you try?" Tilbur picked up Da'La with his wing, and spun, slamming her against the mantle. The breath knocking out of her.
"You're out of your league, are you trying to die?" He slammed her again against the mantle, which cracked. BANG! A bullet rocked off Tilbur’s back, followed by a lightning bolt, neither moved him.
You continue to resist--" Tilbur continued.
"My oath, zhat's vhy!" Da'La kicked against Tilbur, who slammed her again, busting the corner of the mantle.
Margaret's eyes widened as the mantle fell, Tilbur letting go of her Dek'Har as the marble top collapsed on her. Margaret's eyes focused on the form and let out a feral yell.
She grabbed Star's barrel, a golden lightning crackling up it, then turned to Roddick. She couldn’t access the flashy miracles, but she could assist. She held out her hand as the golden light of a malady cure, like what she had cast on a wayward wizard down on his luck, in Sunset Harbor, what felt like years ago. The light bathed Roddick. Tilbur took a step back, and slowly turned toward the group, setting his eyes on Margaret.
"Star! Fire! Roddick! Cast! Not much time!" Maragaret ordered.
I need to get to Da'La while you still don't rhyme!"
CRACK-BOOMI
A fire from the Messenger, the kick nearly sent Star off his feet, as a golden lightning followed the bullet into Tilbur's chest. Roddick began an invocation, surprised that he was free from the blasted rhyming, He did a cat’s cradle in his hand, and his fingers danced. Blue flames trickled up his arm, as the golden lightning coursed across Tilbur's chest. Tilbur let out a scream, that meshed his voice with that of bending and cracking steel. Roddick released the fireball in a sideways arc, hitting the winged Tilbur on the side, lifting him from his feet and crashing him into the side of a cage.
Margaret ran toward Da'La, pushing pieces of marble off her.
Tilbur caught his balance against the cage, pushing himself off it. He focused on Star, and with a step of his taloned foot, shot at him like a blur.
CRACK-BOOM!
Another lightning round collided with Tilbur's chest, spinning him off his feet, and as he spun in the air a force of wind picked up from the side of him, and torrential gale slammed him against the wall, a crack forming up it.
Margaret pulled the rocks from around her Dek'Har, revealing her. She checked for signs of life. She was breathing, but eyes closed. She was knocked out. Margaret in a panic placed her hands on her Dek'Har and golden light cast from them. Light pooled over Da'La, as Margaret closed her eyes.
CRACK-BOOM! K-CHCK! CRACK-BOOM
One after the other, Star, his eyes locked on the beast, lightning screamed from his bullets as they hit the figure against the wall, lightning scattering off him onto the floor. The screams that sounded like breaking steel as Tilbur was pushed helplessly against the wall. Star pushed his barrel against the skull of the bird.
Click
It was empty. A wing wrapped around the silver barrel. The glassy eyes, on which the right one cracked, giving his face a new menace. A talon wrapped around Star, pushing razor claws in his back. Tilbur leaned forward and crashed him into the ground. Roddick began a spell in a rush, dancing his fingers together, but Tilbur chucked the Messenger at him with force, and like a missile it collided with the Wizards chest, knocking his breath out, and him to the floor. Margaret looked up, her golden eyes settling on the bird beast that was Tilbur, Standing over Star. From her kneel she vaulted, running at it at full speed. Tilbur brought up a wing and knocked her back, her head colliding with what was left of the mantle.
Star was breathless. The razor talons piercing into his back, the force crushing his chest. Like a curious, menacing crow, the bird skull of the madsurgeon leaned down coming eye to broken glass eyes to Star.
"I will break your body, pull the flesh from your bone…" Tilbur's normally cordial voice gave way to anger.
"I'll disembowel, I'll disembody. Then tear down all you've known!" The malice dripped from his voice; Star could feel the anger radiating off him.
"Then I'll take your friends, The Wizard for my trials.
Your sword friend, I'll feed to my men, for her they'll get miles!
Then the priestess, I'll save for last because I want to take my time.
I'll burn her alive in a golden cast, for all the gods forsake--" A blade.
A small, curved blade burning a golden light, burst through, bisecting across the metal eyes of Tilbur, coming inches from Star's face. Tilbur froze. His expressionless glassy eyes stay still, looking into Star. A blue liquid spilled on Star's face, as the bird fell over to the side. Standing over Star, blood trickling down her left temple was Margaret, panting, holding the golden Wakisashi in both her hands. Margaret's glowing golden eyes were wide but focused with anger.
"Margaret." Star let out. Margaret dropped the blade. She fell to her knees.
"I did it…" Margaret breathed, looking over at the slumped body of Tilbur.
Star sat up, he looked around, Da'La was still laying near the fireplace, Roddick was returning to his feet, rubbing his chest. Star scrambled to his feet, clawing and moving toward Da'La, looking at the downed Dek'Har.
"I healed her…" Margaret said still panting, wiping the blood off her head.
"You're no longer rhyming." Roddick pointed out.
"Heh, so there's that…" Margaret let out a short laugh.
Star knelt beside Da'La. Her face was chalky, her hands near white. "We have a problem," Star Said.
_____________________________________
DMs Notes: This session was the most unique session I've ever had the privilege of running. I tried my best to give off the feel of this session through text, but for reasons I believe should become apparent as I explain, I was not able to convey exactly what happened.
First, some background. I am a big believer in the Critical Fumble table. I think it adds some great dimension to combat in game, and some of the best, most tense moments of combat I've ever run. But I don't believe that fumbles should actually harm the player, so much as inconvenience them. It's about adding tension. So often it's "Your axe gets lodged in a table, you have to take an action to pull it out," or "You drop your sword and it skitters across the room." With magic and casting I came up with another system.
The Aberration Table. As mentioned, way back in Chapter 3, Aberrations is what happens when magic (or miracles) don't cast correctly. They often have an effect, just an unintentional one. The way I represent this is a 1d100 chart of random effects from misfired magic. Things like: Your skin turns blue for a day, or "You have a sudden but intense premonitory vision of your next bowel movement." Mostly silly things.
This session? This session was full of Aberrations. Both castors of the group kept rolling critical failures. This led to some very funny moments, such as in the approach to the Pfharplace the original had Margaret miscasting, and her voice became amplified and booming, being one of the things that alert the Pfharplace. Or Roddick's hair turning florescent green for 3 days. Most of this made the Pfharplace, a kind of horror show, into a grim horror comedy. But nothing compared to the final scene.
The final scene was supposed to be a confrontation with Tiblur, he would release his monsters, they would fight, and he would transform himself into a bird-like monster. The beginning of the part, Maggie casts a buff spell on everyone… critical failure. I roll on the table… 41. Let me read this entry verbatim:
41. All in local area break out into a sudden song and dance routine for the next several minutes, as in a musical number.
So, to explain to you. This entry, which I wrote thinking it would happen in the middle of town, and I would just describe as they go, turned my body horror boss battle into a scene from fucking Moulin Rouge. The beasts come out of the cage, snapping their claws, and performing backup vocals for an improv rock and roll ballad. I describe the actions in combat like I would a choregraphed musical number. All rounds had to be accompanied with lyrics (Which my players, good sports they are, improvised as well despite none being song writers, or particularly good at singing). With a roll of the dice this session became my musical episode. It was glorious. This chapter was doing the best I could to give off that feel, without trying to put music to text.
I don't have a real lesson for this… I guess don't do what I did? Or maybe, don't be afraid to lean in a little silly. It can create magical experiences.
Written by: Jack Shawhan
Proofread and Edited by: Alhana Escher
Original Characters played by:
Maggie - Donovan Hill
Star - Stephen Kirk
Roddick-Tem - Joshua Horton
Schancier, Whispers of Ja Reyil, and all associated copyright Jack Shawhan, 2021
