Topic: Enter the Cult

Grem · Date: 2009-04-17 20:18 EST

It was late in the night, or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it. I'd just changed back into my street clothes in my room at the Dragon, and I was walking back to my apartment. The night was clear and cool, but it was warmer than most had been for a while. Spring was coming in, and I could smell flowers; probably a scent being blown by the breeze from some unseen garden.

In a city like Rhy'Din, there are always people up and about, even in the dead of night. Most of them probably didn't even have mischief in mind, or at least nothing serious. I didn't pay much attention to the few people I passed on my way, though I did nod to a member of the watch, in plainclothes, as I strolled past him. He gave me a vaguely curious look, probably because he didn't recognize me without my mask, but he nodded back and went on his way.

When I rounded the corner that led to my apartment, I saw that there was someone standing in the road, in voluminous black robes and shadowy cowl. That was curious, but not particularly alarming, as the ring wraith look is popular among certain types around town. I kept an eye on him as I moved along the sidewalk, until I got closer and the wind shifted, bringing his scent to me.

It was the cloying aroma of rot, mixed with his own human odor, and something alien, though it seemed to be somehow familiar. I stopped, turning to regard him more carefully, and heard a soft puff of air behind me.

I felt the needle puncture the skin at the back of my neck a moment later and reached back instinctively to yank it out, even as I started moving down the road. When I reached the intersection, where a wide road ended at mine, continuing only as a narrow alley, I turned left toward the road, scraping at the dirt road enough to kick up a cloud of dust, then doubled back and picked up speed, shooting through the cloud and into the alley. I was hoping that if they were inclined to follow me, they would miss the switch in direction.

They were, and they did. There were five of them, dressed in the same all-enveloping black robes as the fellow in the road, and they ran off the wrong way at a trot as I leaned against the alley wall in the shadows. Two of them were carrying what looked like short staves.

I glanced down at the needle and realized they were blowguns, not staves - the long spine, which looked to have come from a porcupine or something similar, had a tuft of black feathers at the back end, and a tiny hole next to the point leaking some clear liquid. A drug or a poison, and I had to wonder how much made it into my system in that moment before I'd pulled the thing out. I was reaching up to touch the spot where it had struck when I heard a shout and the blast of a shotgun coming from the direction they'd run.

Grem · Date: 2009-04-18 03:12 EST

I shot a look that way to see them scattering. Four of them, that is, as the fifth was lying on the ground, tatters of fabric flapping in the breeze where the shotgun had gotten him. He was weakly holding his blowgun up to his lips, but he didn't seem to be able to draw the breath it would take to put it to use.

Standing over him was a man in a gray suit, cut in a style that had recently gone out of style on Earth a hundred years ago. He was calmly reloading his weapon, watching the business end of the blowgun as it wavered. I started his way as he snapped the breech closed; when I was maybe a dozen yards away, he spun and fired.

I might have been able to catch the scatter shot flying my way, but I didn't want to take chances. I dove to one side, twisting in the air to watch it fly by - when I pick up speed, my perceptions tend to speed up as well, so I saw the shot pass by, in three distinct varieties. There was a dull dark metal, something translucent and cloudy - a crystal of some sort - and the gleam of silver. I hit the ground and pushed myself back up onto my feet as he lowered the gun, staring.

"Cor. You alright?" I gave him a glare, then looked down at myself as I brushed some dust from my clothing and nodded. "Oi'm sorry about tha'. Thought you were another one o' them." He nodded toward the robed man on the ground, who had lowered his blowgun and gone still.

"Should be more careful with that thing," I muttered, moving over to look at the body. The spot on my neck where the dart had hit was starting to feel cold, like someone was holding an ice cube against it. I reached up to touch the skin and frowned; it was going numb, as well as cold. "They hit me with one of their darts."

"Did they? Bugger." He knelt down next to the fallen man, tearing the robe open. Once the cowl was out of the way I could see his face, no hair on his head, the flesh of which was yellowish around bulging eyes and a too-wide mouth. "Ugly bastads, wot? Usually carry a counter agent to that stuff, Oi think." He was rifling through the dead man's pockets, and paused to glance up at me. "Thought they missed when you rabbited. Didn't get ye deep, or you got it out fast, Oi'd wager. Else, you'd be down, wake up just in time to feel 'em kill ye."

"Why would they wait, if they were goin' to kill me?" I frowned at the dead man, if man it was, and moved to lean against the wall. I was starting to feel unnaturally tired. "How do you know about them, anyway?"

"Aye, there." He pulled out a small jar, the sort used for lip balm back home, and straightened up, turning toward me. "Oi 'ad a run-in with 'em a few years back. Bastads are in a cult, and their god likes it when 'is sacrifices scream. Ghastly business. They usually try for someone who'll not put up a foight, which is why they gave up on me after trying the once. Turn around and Oi'll put this on ye. 's gonna sting."

I did as he asked, keeping one hand on the wall to help with my balance. "They were plannin' to sacrifice me? Cripes." I felt like I should have been more disturbed than I was. Maybe that was a side effect of the sedative in their dart. I had the presence of mind to stop him and ask if there was silver in it, remembering his shot, and when he answered in the negative I nodded and felt a pin slide into the puncture wound, and ice was replaced by fire. By the time I finished hissing at the burn, it had faded down, feeling more like an ordinary wound. "They human?"

"Roight, that should do it," he muttered, before clapping me on the shoulder and stepping back. "Think they're something close. One big family, the ugly's from inbreeding." He smiled at me as I turned toward him, and stuck out his hand. "Ted Paget, at your service."

I shook his hand, nodding. "Grem, and thanks for the help." I moved over to the cultist, dropping down onto my haunches. The smell was terrible.

"Not a problem." He came to stand behind me. "Oi don't like killing 'em, not by 'alf, but when I let 'em live they just gibber an' try to get away. One of 'em even gnawed off 'is own bloody arm."

Shaking my head, I stood straight, turning back to him. "Their cult have a name?"

"No, but their god does. Shesh'kr'cothlu. Beastly bugger, as you can guess."

That name sounded familiar, and I realized why a moment later. My veins turned to ice, and it had nothing to do with the poison. I didn't know much about him, but Shesh'kr'cothlu was one of the entities mentioned in passing in Doc Roth's book. It must have been the one K'lorkanto had planned to sell me to.

Grem · Date: 2009-04-18 21:04 EST

"Cor, you look like you just saw a ghost dancing a jig on 'is own grave." Paget was staring at me, and I realized that the blood had all run out of my face. "You've 'eard of the bastad before, 'aven't you?"

I nodded, swallowed, and found my voice. "Yeah. Don't think this is the first time someone tried givin' me to him."

"Aye? You must be something special, then." He held up his hands, palms toward me. "None o' my business, Oi'm sure. But you'll want to keep a weather eye out for 'em, if they've got a yen for ye, no matter whatever it is."

I scratched my jaw and gestured down at the body. "I'll be doin' my best. They always wear outfits like this?"

"Any time I've seen them prowling about on business. They wear normal togs for less nasty..." He trailed off when I started moving. I'd heard another blowgun puff, and caught movement in the dark alley behind him. Planting one hand on his shoulder, I pushed him to one side while I grabbed the dart out of the air with the other. He blinked at me, muttering, "blimey," then turned to follow as I headed toward the alley. We were half-way there when I heard a sound like paper being cut, then the wet smack of a body hitting the ground. Paget stopped and smiled. "Dos phuul inbauin kiel, ligrr." I blinked at him, frowning, and looked back to the dark alley. "Sorry. She doesn't speak our language yet," he explained, as he caught my look.

"Yaith ptau'al." She spoke in a hiss as she stepped out from the alley's shadows. It was the drow woman I'd come across a few months back, in her black leather armor. I realized I was staring when she tilted her head and lifted her pink eyes to me, pausing in the work of cleaning her blade. Of course, she wouldn't recognize me - I'd been wearing my mask the other time I'd seen her. I blinked, rubbed the back of my neck, careful of the wound and started into the alley, but Paget stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

He was looking at her when he spoke. "Jala tekelis?" She glanced at him and shook her head, and he let me go. "They sometimes have great blobs running around with 'em. Dangerous buggers. Look like shadows and start screaming 'tekeli' over and over when they when get excited, so that's what we call 'em. They can be deucedly quiet when they want to be - Elg'caress 'ere's gotten good at sniffing 'em out." She shot him a glare at that, which he responded to with a smile, then went back to her blade.

I looked between them, frowning at this new information, and continued into the alley until I found the body. The drow had neatly sliced through the vertebrae at his neck from behind, leaving his head attached only by the softer bits in front of it. It was nasty business, but it was cleaner and faster than Paget's shotgun had been. This one's mouth was just as wide as the other's, but his eyes were tiny and sunken into his face, now staring blankly at the wall to one side. I searched him, and pocketed what little I found. That included his darts - no good would come of leaving the stuff lying around - and another tiny jar of the antidote. Paget and the drow watched me quietly as I went back to the other dead cultist and relieved his corpse of his darts as well. I didn't much like the idea of searching him, given the hamburger look of his chest and stomach. "Mind if I hold on to his things?" I nodded back toward the alley. "Want to look them over."

"Not at'all." He shrugged. "Don't think you'll 'ave found much of use on 'im, but you never know." The drow muttered something and slipped back into the alley, and I looked down the road to see a watchman approaching. Paget cursed under his breath. "More trouble than they're worth, wit' this. Luck, Grem. Pardon my brevity." He shot me a smile and turned to run after the drow, leaving me frowning in his wake. I could have caught him easily enough, but I couldn't think of a good reason to stop him, so I just waited for the watchman to get up to me.

We had a brief chat about what happened, and I answered his questions honestly, for the most part. I just left out what I'd taken off the body in the alley and Paget's name. I handed over the second pouch of darts, then he went off to find someone to collect the bodies. I scowled down at the dead cultist in the road, then walked the short distance to my apartment, to stew over what had happened.