Rake - Downtime / Freeplay

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Doskvol had two universities: Doskvol Academy, situated in Whitecrown and catering to the rich and powerful, and Charterhall University, a decentralized institution regrouping multiple faculties spread out across the rest of the city, but mostly in Charterhall. The latter catered to a more diverse clientele and, as such, offered a bit less scrutiny. So long as you looked the part and didn't cause any trouble, it wasn't too difficult to gain access to some of its less secure wings.

Marius certainly knew how to look like a student or an adjunct professor. When he needed use its facilities, he would dress in unironed shirts and pants, and would stain his fingertips with ink the night before. The only time he'd been challenged, a few coins had traded hands and smoothed things over. He did, of course, refrain from engaging in any nefarious activities.

On this particular day, Marius was looking for information about Redfog Tower and its aqueduct. While Charterhall University didn't have a History department, such things were reserved for the higher classes of society as only they could "waste" their time with a subject so far removed from a profitable career, it had, in the Sparkwrights' library, quite a few tomes on architecture and civil engineering.

Poring over their texts, Marius hoped to find some information about its construction that could offer the Phantoms an alternative entry point or some other sort of advantage once they were in.

After combing through countless dusty tomes, Rake leaves the University with precious little information, but it wasn't entirely for naught. He finds a discarded, hand-drawn map from some prior reader that seems to indicate some sort of ladder or method of climbing from a small island in the middle of the river to a entrance into the aqueduct maybe 50 feet up. Perhaps a more discreet entry or exit point?

Read Episode 5 before the following posts

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Marius closed his eyes as the familiar aroma of the black lotus hit his senses. When he opened them again, Traven's basement started to blur, leaving only an abstract palette of earth tones.

The Phantoms had triumphed over the Children of the Fang, forcing the latter to flee from Redfog Tower. Rake and his crew had returned a few days later, fixed the pumps and taken stock of the damage the flooding had caused. The tower was ancient, but it had stood the test of time with good reason. Its bones were good and its foundation solid. It would serve their purpose well. Now, they ha to prepare for retaliatory strikes and...

The thoughts and fears that had been racing through the whisper's mind faded as well. The hum of Coalridge's factories, a constant noise plaguing the neighborhood, became almost melodic. Marius exhaled, letting the smoke slowly leave his body and with it, the tension in his jaw, the clenching of his hand, the accelerated thundering of his heartbeat. He didn't feel the pillow when his head hit it.

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To say that Charterhall University's newspaper archive was poorly organized would be akin to calling a Leviathan a fish. There were some similarities, but it lacked any notion of scale.

Marius' face had fallen when he had been ushered into the large room. The newspapers were stacked haphazardly, with no recognizable system or logic. Searching for information about Twice-Dead Tom here would be more akin to an archaeological excavation than to any other kind of research.

Marius sighed and started digging.

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Days later, he had found precious little. A few articles about murders that fit Tom's modus operandi. Another alluding to an executed prisoner's body disappearing, but he couldn't be sure it was his quarry. Still, they were leads. He would have to be patient. The prize was too valuable to pass up.

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While Echo and Ash talked with the Phantoms' contacts, Marius returned to Charterhall University. The institution was home to the Sparkwrights. He might not be able to find information about the Fog Hounds' hull specifically, but having seen the thing up close, he was certain he could find useful information about the capabilities of similar creations. The main thing working against him was time.

Marius finds out rather quickly that engineering schematics might as well be written in Severosian, for all he can understand them. After many hours combing through old texts and diagrams, the most he comes away with is a vague sense that aside from overwhelming force, explosions, or battering rams, the seams between metal plates may be something of a weak point...

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On the eve of the expiration of the Fog Hounds' ultimatum, after meeting with Mr. Gaunt, Marius went for a walk. He hadn't intended to. When he stepped off the carriage, he had planned on returning to the Well, getting a good night's sleep, and prepare for battle. His feet, it seemed, had other plans. They took over while his mind preoccupied itself with plans, contingencies, and anxious fretting.

He was torn from his musings when he started feeling a pressure in his lungs. He looked around at the tall, brick walls, the smoggy air and the factory workers passing by, and realized with a start that he'd wandered all the way to Coalridge. He turned down an alley, looking to get away from the press of bodies. He emerged unto a smaller, deserted street that felt strangely familiar.

He frowned, until it finally dawned on him. Ah, it's her alley. Taken by a fancy of nostalgia, he looked down its length. His breath caught in his throat. There was Nyryx, leaning against her corner, just like the night they'd met. He recognized her posture, if not the flesh she was wearing. A bare leg poked tantalizingly out from under her long coat while she smoked a cigarette as if she didn't have a care in the world. As if she wasn't dead. The thought stung.

Before he knew he was doing it, he'd started walking towards her. She must have heard the sound of his boots on the cobblestones, because she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes grew wide in surprise and she pushed off the wall to stand up straight. She tossed the cigarette away and smiled at him. She grabbed the sides of her coat and greeted him with a curtsy, exposing both her legs and the fact she didn't have pants or a skirt underneath her coat.

M'lord," she said in a mocking tone. Marius thought he heard a touch of relief underneath the taunt, but maybe he was projecting. They hadn't parted on the best of terms the last time they'd met and he'd felt guilty ever since.

He bowed as they would at court before a waltz. "M'lady." She cocked an eyebrow, amused. He didn't play along often. She walked closer. The body she was possessing was not quite like her. She had a similar build, but she was slightly taller and skinnier. Her lips were thinner, her nose longer, her eyes wider. He recognized the makeup choices, though, and she was wearing the perfume he'd bought her months ago.

She looked up at him with a stranger's eyes, but for a moment, he only saw her. When their lips met, Marius felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

It didn't take long for their kiss to start tasting like salt. Nyryx pulled away and gently wiped the tears from Marius' cheeks with her hand. She then took his in hers and simply said: "Come."] If she'd asked, he would have followed her into the mouth of a Leviathan.

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Marius woke up the next morning resting on cotton bedsheets, under a multitude of small electroplasmic lights hanging from the ceiling of the small, one-room apartment in Coalridge. She was draped over his side, her head resting on his chest. Her deep breathing told him she was asleep.

He ran his hand down the soft skin of her back. She stirred. "You're warm," she said, her accent and tone unfamiliar. Marius froze. "Nyryx?" he asked.

"No, she left. She's letting me rest," said the stranger groggily. She tilted her head to look up at him. "You must be her little lord. She doesn't usually let men stay the night."

Marius felt like he'd been struck. He pushed her off of him, a bit more roughly than he'd intended. The stranger must have been used to worse, because she barely grumbled. She rolled over, turning her back to him as he sat up and started getting dressed.

When he has done, he left some money on the bedside table and headed for the door.

"Come back whenever you like," said the stranger, sleepily. "It makes her happy."

It felt like a twist of the knife. If that was true, then why had she left.

It was only much later, as he walked back to the Well, that he could fathom why she had. Maybe it was too painful to watch him leave, never knowing if he'd be back.

He stopped walking and turned to look back at Coalridge. It loomed in the dark sky, its brightly lit factories belching smoke from atop the hill. He stood there for a while, in the fog perpetually coating the streets of Six Towers, his yearning echoed by the lamentations of a nearby spirit. Then he turned his back to it and resumed walking to his crew's lair to plan a war.

Read Episode 6 before the following posts

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Marius made his way to Traven's, careful to make sure he wasn't followed. He stuck to busy streets, hoping the crowds would make any would-be Fog Hounds assassin think twice about striking at him.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the familiar shop and greeted the owner, before making his way down to the basement, where sweet release awaited him.

Rake's heady, reality-smothering buzz still lingered when he left Traven's and started making his way down darkened streets to the Phantom's well. A few snow flakes fell and the wind picked up. Signs on storefronts screeched and swayed, and shady figures scuttled past in the murk.

The whisper has only made it a few paces down a particularly quiet street when he got the unmistakeable feeling that something is amiss. The buzz evaporated; replaced with cold sweat and fear.

No sounds of life - from anywhere. It's as if all of Doskvol has been abandoned. A streetlight nearby suddenly burned white hot for a moment before going dark.

From behind, Rake hears the tell-tale sound of bones popping and clicking. A rigid, mocking grin looms in the darkness, yellow eyes burning into Rake's spirit.

"Good to see you again, whisper. It's time we explored the...possibilities offered by a partnership between you and I."

Twice-Dead Tom moves closer, his limbs popping and shifting with a freakish multi-jointed step.

"Come with me."

Rake sucked a breath in through his teeth and stopped. His instincts were telling him to run, to flee from this horror made flesh. It wasn't the novelty of the experience; he'd dealt with demons before. Contrary to popular belief, not all of them were monsters. They were alien creatures, each motivated by its own nature. Setarra had been quiet and placid, barely aware of his presence. He had been warned not to provoke her, though, and had minded his manners. Twice-Dead Tom, however, was hungry and cruel.

But running would do no good. Demons were fast. Besides, after spending so much time looking for answers to the mystery that was Twice-Dead Tom, and finding precious little, here was the primary source.

Rake grasped the demonbane charm in his pocket, but kept it out of view. "Where to?" He asked, his voice hoarse from the dreamsmoke, or perhaps the primal terror. "I'm not much for surprises."

Tom's head tilted slightly.

Rake saw a jagged, crimson scar on Tom's pale neck, just poking out from the black shirt collar, presumably where the demon's head had been severed...and reattached.

"To a private place where we can discuss business. No surprises, no need for concern."

Tom shuddered and sucked in a deep breath, eyes never flinching from Rake's face.

"I've no reason to harm you. After all...you're going to do a job for me."

Dogs bayed in the distance, the only sound other than the howling of the wind.

Rake nodded slowly. Even if saying no had been an option, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. "Very well, lead the the way."

As they walked towards Twice-Dead Tom's chosen place to discuss business, Rake tried to maintain a healthy gap between them. Just enough to give himself time to dive out of the way if the demon changed his mind and decided to lunge at him. He desperately wanted to pull out his spirit mask. Demons generally didn't have an echo in the ghost field, they were creatures of the flesh, but Tom was a special specimen. Were the arcane energies that had resurrected him visible? Or was his transformation complete?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Rake cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping the bounds of our relationship, but my curiosity is getting the best of me. From what I've heard, even amongst your kind, you're rather unique. The rumors around you say that you were once human. Is that so?"

Tom led Rake down an alleyway. When the whisper asked about his past, Tom's head swivelled slowly - was that curiosity in his eyes?

"In a different life, yes. But many years have passed. That man is long gone. Best not ask too many questions tonight, whisper."

Tom approached a wooden door in the alleyway. Set in a stone wall, the door led into a fairly large building, and not two steps inside it was clear the place was long-since abandoned.

And yet...

There was hint of a sickly sweet, rotten stench in the air. Tom led the whisper through a back passage, and in the dim light Rake could see hooks hanging from the ceiling. The next room was larger, longer and more open, with a several broken and cracked windows near the ceiling along both sides. The center of the room had stone blocks at roughly waist height with dark stains upon them.

Meat hooks. Chopping blocks.

It clicks for Rake that he is in an abandoned slaughterhouse.

Tom gestured toward two chairs in the center of the room near a diagonal shaft of moonlight shining in through one of the upper windows. Snowflakes fluttered into the room and danced about in the drafts.

Tom took chair and waited for the whisper to sit opposite.

As Rake's eyes adjusted further, he saw two slumped figures against one corner with the burnt out remains of a fire in front of them and slashes across their necks. Tom caught the whisper's eye and answered non-chalantly, as if reading Rake's mind.

"Squatters."

Tom pulled off his hat and set it down on one of the chopping blocks nearby. His head is bald and pale. It looks like burned, scarred tissue, rough and uneven, with more than one gash-mark that had healed over years ago. Blade wounds? Glancing wounds from bullets?

Beside his hat sat a wooden chest.

"Now. About this job. Crow's Nest. You will smuggle that chest into it. Hide it. Somewhere close to Lyssa."

Rake sat opposite Tom, careful not to step in anything too messy. He'd never stepped foot in a slaughterhouse before, and he couldn't say he was enjoying the experience. He was careful to keep his sight on the material world. He wasn't eager to discover what kind of horrors echoed through the ghost field in this dreadful place.

He looked at the chest, trying to gauge its weight. "I have three questions before I agree. First, are the contents fragile? Second, are any special precautions necessary to handle the chest? Lastly, what are you offering as payment?"

Rake sat back, trying to mirror the creature's nonchalance as he waited for a reply.

Tom reclined, his smile radiant in the gloom.

"The contents are not fragile. But not especially durable either. Precautions - don't drop it from more than a few feet or let it take a bullet. And a word to the wise - don't open it."

Tom's gaze shifted to the box.

"It's presence alone will have a...intoxicating effect, so best keep it at a distance until you make a move...and move quickly when you do."

Eyes back to Rake.

"You have my word I'll pay handsomely...$5,000 slugs. After all, this is only the start of our partnership."

meta:

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Rake eyed the mysterious box. He wondered where all these different... people... got their hands on these cursed artifacts. First the Grinders, then the Circle of Flame, now Twice-Dead Tom. Such things had been rather rare in Skovlan. He supposed this was one of the "benefits" of living in a metropolis. There was opportunity there, if the Phantoms could secure a steady supply...

He turned his eyes back to Tom. "Very well, those terms are acceptable." He stood. "I look forward to a long and fruitful collaboration."

He picked up the box and got away from the demon as fast as he could while maintaining his dignity and composure.

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Rake took the box to Redfog Tower, hiding it out of the way. Before leaving he pulled out his spirit mask and examined it, trying to get some modicum of understanding of its nature.

Once he'd seen what he could, he covered it up and headed back to the Well. He needed to let the others know their next score was spoken for. Echo wouldn't like it, but he was certain Ash would relish the challenge. Her skills would be key to pull this job off.

Rake immediately felt a nauseating sensation of lurching forward, as if he were tumbling head over heels into a vast black void.

His mind's eye is then assaulted with a dizzying array of images; hellfire and smoke; sprawling metropolises laid waste by wanton destruction; swirling melees with endless human and demonic combatants; apocalyptic, raging storms over raging seas, stretching far beyond the horizon...

Accompanied by these images is a sudden rush, a potent urge to indulge in Rake's most base desires...

Gasping for breath, Rake knows one thing for certain: the box contains something imbued with significant occult power, likely that of a long-forgotten god.

The power to exert considerable influence and sway on those in its proximity, spurring them to incite chaos, destruction and violence...

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After the meeting with Echo and Ink, Rake went to see the Grinders, inquiring about the Ghoul's location. The Phantoms' allies were happy to oblige. After all, without their intercession, the Ghoul would have met his end after a long drop and a sudden stop.

Billy "Ghoul" Morris had found refuge in a small, second floor apartment in the Docks. It was one of the Grinders' safehouses and a decent enough place to lay low. Fresh sea air, a view of the ships coming and going, music drifting in from a nearby tavern... It must have certainly beat Ironhook.

It was sparsely furnished, a small table with two chairs, a rocking chair near the window, an end table with an elecroplasmic light, a cot and a small stove were the only things in the room. The only other room was the WC.

Billy seemed pleased to see Marius. He must not have gotten many visitors since he'd taken up residence. A few supply drops from Grinders, perhaps. He offered his guest some tea, which was graciously accepted. The old spirit trafficker still limped from the injury sustained during his rescue, Marius noticed as he watched the man put the kettle on, but he kept from commenting on it.

They exchanged pleasantries, Marius recounting the war with the Fog Hounds. Once the conversation started to die down, Marius got to the reason for his visit.

"Your old friend Tom has called upon me and my crew," he said, conversationally. "It seems we have little choice in indulging him, for now. You dealt with him in the past and I wonder if you have any insight about him that might prove useful to us."

Billy's face paled at the mention of the demon. His demeanor turned icy very quick, accompanied by nervous glances to the windows, to the doors, as if one of his claws would creep in through a crack any moment now.

"You've been dealing with that monster? After what I told you? Gods...I knew your crew was daring, but I didn't believe you were suicidal."

The Ghoul stole Rake's mug and stormed into the other room, then came back with a rather worried expression on his face.

"You best get going. I can't take any chances that he knows we've met. You enter business with him, he follows you, you understand? Watches. Listens."

He cursed and bit his lip, then lowered his voice as Rake neared the door.

"My advice? You ever move on him...don't fucking miss. You'll have to fight fire with fire. Occult rituals, sacrifices, that sort of thing. The bastard will shrug off anything else. Now get. Go!"

Rake doesn't overstay his welcome any more than he already has. He thanks Ghoul for his time and takes his leave.

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The next day, Rake returned to Redfog Tower with his arcane implements and his spirit mask. He retrieved the Twice-Dead Tom's box and found an open area where he could work.

He poured the black salt in a circle around the box, then used the quicksilver and a small brush to draw a series of wards along its circumference. He wore his demonbane charm on a string around his neck and had secured his spirit mask on his face.

Once finished with his preparations, he put on some heavy leather gloves, then reached forward and pulled the lid off the box.

The lid came off easy, revealing a musty scent inside. The box was filled with woodchips...and bones. Black bones. They look like the remains of some strange, unrecognizable and long dead animal. They were shiny and black, as if covered in some sort of lacquer, glinting in the candlelight.

The largest bone structure is a narrow, long skull in the center. Others may be arm bones, legs, even antlers. The bones clinked as Rake moves his hands through the box. Tendrils of agitation and aggression immediately started seeping into his thoughts. In the span of a few moments, the sensation is almost unbearable, prompting Rake to close the box shut once again.

Condition:

Rake breathed heavily after closing the box, trying to regain control of his senses. He wanted to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter against the wall. Curses on Twice-Dead Tom, that soulless villain! Rake was furious at having been saddled with this grim task. He was going to find a way to trap that demon and kill it, again and again and again...

His face was drawn into a large rictus by the time he snapped out of it. Marius pushed himself away from the box, the anger replaced with fear. This thing was dangerous. He'd never taken pleasure in killing, but the way he'd felt thinking about taking out his frustration on Tom, even if the bastard deserved it...

He'd have to tread lightly over the next while or risk lashing out at people he cared about...

He put the box back into its hiding spot and cleared away his warding circle, worriedly wondering what those bones would have done to him without his precautions.

Having not found Marius at the Well, Cadence went to the Tower.   The longer she waited to tell him about Ash, the more she worried that she would lose her nerve.  It had already been days.

"Marius.  I need to tell you something that I think that you deserve to hear in private... About Ash."  She clenches and releases her fists, trying to recall the carefully crafted narrative that she had been practicing to make the delivery as smooth as possible.

"Ashlyn had heard that we were drawing a fair bit of attention,  and got it in her head to take matters into her own hands. You know better than anyone how she can be.  What I mean to say is that we are not going to find Ash at any of her usual haunts, because she has turned herself in to the Blue Coats.    Marius, if I had known what she had planned, I would have stopped her.  You have to believe that. Well, I suppose that you do not have to believe it, but it is the truth."

She watches his face carefully as she speaks, bracing herself for any number of reactions.  Once he had processed the information, she would tell Ink and finally be able to focus her energy on the latest job.

A whirlwind of emotion hit Marius as he learned of his sister's actions. Shock, of course. Fear for her safety, anger at her reckless choice, hurt at having to learn about it this way, loss even if it would likely be temporary.

A second storm was centered on Echo. How long had she known? How had she found out? She said she would have stopped Ash if she had known, but would she have? Had they planned this together behind his back? He felt betrayed, hurt and angry, oh so angry... Echo looked at him with concern or perhaps... fear? She was right to be afraid. She'd come to him alone, in a deserted place, and stuck a spike in his heart.

Wipe that patronizing expression off her face. Show her what happens to those who betray you. Who take away what you love. Break her fucking skull.

Marius had clenched his fists and taken a step forward. He stopped suddenly and recoiled in horror. He was breathing heavily.

"Get out," he said hoarsely, his voice laced with fear.

Echo hesitated for a second. It looked like she was about to step forward and reach out to him. She didn't understand.

"I... just... handled... Tom's... box," he spat through clenched teeth. "GET!! OUT!!"

Cadence watched as emotions first flicked across Marius' face and then distorted his features.  When he told her to leave, his voice sounded so strained and looked so upset that she couldn't help but want to go towards him.

As his stilted words registered, so did the reason for Marius' growing horror. She knew how Tom's filth could worm its way inside a person.

"Marius, I am neither afraid of you nor for you," she said matter of factly, holding his gaze. "You are a Helker; you will overcome."

With a perfunctory nod, she turned on her heels and walked away, looking every bit the noble scion that she was despite her rather plain apparel.

Once back at the Well, she is overcome by an unrelenting fatigue.  Bazso, Ash, and now Marius...  The events surrounding each one had brought with them their own flavour of disaster and concomitant need to play it cool despite dying on the inside.  They were each overwhelming in their own right. Faced with all of them, it would seem that her body's only response was to shut down.   Her sleep would not be restful, but it would be time away from it all.