Lone Stars, Warpstone Sixguns & Red Orc Tomahawks

WIP, Revision 1.06 © Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved A handful of prosaic-doublets about my Warhammer-Western Intermezzo

Norse – Thorson's last stand

That Night in Odin's Belch, down in good ole Texas Our kind Sheriff Thorson prepared to make a stand

He would soon die fightin' with a weapon in his hand Blue eyes'sight grimly set on the arrivin' outlaw band

His deputies aside him, them three against the odds Unafraid of Death they don't even dodge the shots

The outlaws look upon them, false pride upon true grit More than one damn outlaw panty fillin' with warm shit

Rifles & sixguns started blazing, Death came as hot lead Em three who stood for duty killed a dozen with godspeed

When everything went silent and 'em Valkyries arrived The settlers proudly ensured that nobody had survived

Skaven (Ratmen)

Loadin' Warpstone bullets Sheriff Vermyn awaits the gang Hornless, dwarven drunkards with Steamguns for da bang!

Workers'n'settlers hide in panic, as the west entry tunnel fills Dread bearded beasts indeed came down here from their hills.

Four did invade the Saloon, like addicts to their craved fix Our Sheriff Vermyn intends to send 'em down a River Styx

Em horny drunkard punker laid hands on harlots' silken fur Em had it cummin', so clear what was now awaiting to occur

Saloon Doors kicked open, Warpstone bullets deliver death Of four bearded fuck-ups not one could face Vermyns' wrath

So Victory Squeaks arise, the Sheriff felled the horrid beasts No miracle that on such a night the whole town gladly feasts!

Totemic Orcs

So Chief Sagebrush had send Gardush to Spirit's End The Shaman, Gardush, was to become a Spirit-Friend

White Hand Tribe of Red Orcs was threatened to Death By an army of riders bringing settlers to the weird West

Gardush wore sacred gear, rattle and tomahawk in hands Come on out ye coward spirits, or we'll never be friends!

And strong Manitoba had heard him, as soon was clear to see So dark elder specter promised to set all who die fighting free

Hence Gardush learned the warpath knows only gruesome ends But those who fight with courage will for eternity meet friends

Gardush returned to the tribe sharing the spirit's decisive news Don't ask where to flee, but what weapons you should choose

The tribe came down on Fort Knightly in that same night Only Death an option even wives and kids braved to fight

Dark Elves

Herder Mordhuil was a hard and pious kinda seafaring man Sworn to deliver homewards as many slave-herds as he can

His bunch had been hard workin' they gathered all they could 120 slaves planned to be, but nature selected how many would

The sacred Confederacy was fighting the overwhelming odds And still the rebel songs sounded even louder than their shots!

From the swamps of Louisiana Mordhuil had once appeared A knife-eared man of duty who was respected and well-feared

The Crimson Corsair was a symbol of the fierce Rebel Pride Slaves gasped in awe, as the armored steamship came into sight

That bedeviled Union would make all good come to a final End Millions free, but meaningless, work-drones damned, if foe or friend

But God in his dark wisdom has allowed them to prove worth Die to earn yer paradise, or submit to be living shame on Earth!

Amazons

Conquistador false oaths not forgotten, thru Mexico they ride Clear sight on their future, if the vile Union gains more might

Gorgeous'n'deadly riders their battalion joins the losing war Da right cause is 'em only option, as on 'em honor they swore

Slann masters in their wisdom had tempered with their blood Twin sisters they create to help thwarting the blue Union flood

On ships of wood and iron they skirmish up to their last breath For all of 'em da one man who touches 'em unpunished is Death

Opposing Union Demons and steam cannons cooking 'em alive By each blade and bow, oh with what conviction they did strive

With ever-thinning ranks the tide of war does take its bloody toll Still to the moment of their death with high spirit did they stroll

Sisterhood and Rebel Pride know they will never see their victory day Still shining their example of godsworn sacrifice chargin' into da fray!

Wood Elves

Freedom from all oppression, a law governing each equal for 'em all High ideal or false promise them wood elves heeded the human call!

Priests, medics, and rangers taking up the uniforms of Union Blue So sad for the deluded Confederacy they now must bloodily undo

Old Grey clashes with Modern Blue, both fighting for their highest goal Each major battle brave soldiers met like swine and bull in a butcher's bowl

Their unit stands among trees in silence, as at their generals command On dark elves & Amazons they've arrows to lose from each snipers hand

Earth Mother drinks much blood these days, but tears fill all their eyes For no forest-born child ever rejoices, when any true believer bravely dies

Slavery their sin and crime in one, a second trail of tears, law enforcement done Elf fights Elf, Brother kills Brother, as Sister kills Sister by blade, bow, or gun

Sacred Isha we've many wounds to heal, as too many fallen left to mourn, Oh celestial Lords, Kurnous & Loec, in what a cruel world we were born

Chaos Beastmen

Them hunters stopped appearing, as Grey and Blue did go to War It turned out a major banquet, as each day we raided even more

Khulgar swore Khorne had blessed us, as bloody battle never stopped We had faith, when upon the Grey or Blue, from ambush we hopped!

Bashing, tearing, clawing for the delicious mystery meat the foe provides All frenzy and joy, as surely great Khorne to glutton's paradise us guides

From our caves or captured forts we went on each new frenzied killing spree Villages, towns, entire counties left unguarded, Grey & Blue nowhere to see

Our whelps each smiling at us, skull-totem-poles they build in pious pride Never again we will doubt that there is blessing in Khornes' good might

Our best females all with bellies swelling, as our hordes can afford to grow No matter how Khorne split 'em into Grey and Blue to him we gladly bow

Dwarfs

That new mine yields gold'n'iron, but the price is paid in lives Each tunnel-warden knows that not much longer one survives

Graybeard patrols on duty, lantern and sawed-off shotgun in hand Vile god Tzeentch ensured the blood-toll for da riches to defend!

With every chaos mutant onslaught new gore decorates each wall Foul Nurgle, wickedly helpful, ensures we don't enjoy 'em to fall

Graybeard now shows a youngster how blows can make monsters cease and as by now is needed how to avoid catching each god-send disease

Hardest work and fiercest fighting have ever been the dwarven way Best workers, smiths'n'soldiers, but “drunks” is all most fellows say

Graybeard has just reloaded, and with lantern one sees, but can't shield So smack the mutant with the barrel, then shoot head to win the field

The young one is still shaky, but stalwart by his side to turn the tide Graybeard honors the valor, as on and on they parry, shoot, and fight

Pinkertons' Way

Work-shunning and white collar the underpaid fellow in tweed One in a legion who get away, for with the town major 'em feed

So the snobs go sleuth on yer smart villains ever greedy for da green Apache and Comanche say no greater wanna-be-penguins they've seen

Still with their educated standards 'em tend to solve a lot o' subtle crimes And, as funny, as 'em look, they are da darn best detectives o' their times!

So if ye ain't hollow-headed, and want yer own family earn any decent pay Go apply, get yer darn costume, and solve each crime the Pinkerton Way

Outwitting da embezzlers, 'em forgers and counterfeiters, for da green'n'law Their is a righteous streak to that future need big Chief Pinkerton foresaw

Em rigid and 'em royal, each faith-day, see da Pinkerton's kneel to Verena So have yer opinion, son, but know 'em penguins made da law much keener

Em darn Undead – Yer living dead folks

Forced out of black slumber by forbidden words from tomes or priests Again trapped in torment we vengefully slaughter and feed like beasts

Them Hungry Dead 'em called us, but we come in many different breeds Sometimes it's adaptation, sometimes it's a reflection of our sinful deeds

Our gluttons live in crypts, and they love to hunt their prey in ravenous packs Bloodlust, hunger, diseased claws, and paralyzing saliva empower ghoul attacks

Bones rattling at night, on most graveyards the fierce skeleton infantry awakes Once freed from flesh and tissue one has a grim look unto causes and great sakes

Stench, shock, and the ever-hungry brutal bite that is in what zombies delight True Nitemare of townsfolk, when from the Fallen they arise as unholy blight

Oh Yuppie beyond 'em ranks of rabble there are 'em who even went to school Frigging Necromancer and the Vampire undo almost any kind of mortal Fool

Da realm of the dead awaits ye all, and we returned to say'n'show it ever true But at times a grimoire-born return, or vengeance, is a darn jolly thing to do!

Four rode against Nurgle

Four-Hoofed angels darn-well chargin' through da black of night Upon their backs two doctors who know 'gainst Nurgle 'em ride!

Foul chaos god was tempted, or maybe lured by darn catholic wrath As he invoked disease t'cum an'plague every Sodomites cursed path

But no urge'n'no darn religion made 'em two dare such gambit at night Em were husband'n' wife, both knowing modern science on their side!

Few hours time of incubation was left by yer well-learned higher math If not getting syringed a chaos mutant would claw itself outta each ath

Shallya'n'Hyppokrates looked upon 'em faithful with kind'n'holy eyes Four heroes rode to ensure that by their gambit no darn townsfolk dies

Dodge City far behind 'em, hearts-pounding due exert, as da seconds count Sweat pours, breath's drawn hard, a ride toughest for da horses 'em mount

The bell-tower alerts folks, as two Doctors risked it all to make a stand The few survivors tellin' tales about 'em saintly, and the healing hand!

Mostly Work-Notes Song Lyrics for the Context:

Outlaw by Man'O'War Cowboy Dreams by Jimmy Nails Ghost Riders in the Sky performed by Johnny Cash El Dorado Movie Theme – John Wayne got a good one here! Last Rebel by the Tattooed Bagpipers at youtube

Films I once liked:

1. The Last Outlaw - Goldie with Mickey Rourke 2. Tombstone - Val Kilmer performing darkly-splendid! 3. Nevada Pass - Goldie with Charles Bronson 4. The Shootist, as John Wayne gave it a very mature weariness&death-wish. 5. Young Guns, as once I shared the naive idealism of the youthful spirit. 6. Westworld. Yul Brynner really influenced my life, and made me shriek. 7. Once upon a time in the West. Henry Fonda and Charles Bronson gave greatness to it.

Boardgame http://www.flyingfrog.net/shadowsofbrimstone/

Arrest Warrant – About yer' darn author

https://pietroschekblog.wordpress.com

All needed was already written with Warhammer, Deadlands, off-springs, and the fan-fictions. What it needs is the one who holds back the own ego, and really gets the movies, affordable miniatures, and video games done! And I am not even afraid of 'Torment – Sixguns of Numenera', or whatever overpriced dorkness comes gunning..? ;-)

“In bed with Professor Hammersmith”
Trumpet version, totally not fame-phishing due a super-cool POTUS, originally for easier use with White Wolf’s Adventure RPG (light version of WoD system, rulewise). Based on my 'Banish with Laughcraft, Version 2007' Author : Andrè M. Pietroschek © all rights reserved

At first, some hints to readers who never read H.P. Lovecrafts „Shadows over Innsmouth“, August Derleths „The Star Gate“, and are unaware of Cthulhu style Role-playing Games. Lovecraft "used" his sickness to inspire the myth of evil, chthonic deities, who interacted with planet earth since it came into existence. I wrote it Laughcraft to mock it, and to indulge my own folly. Small groups, or single individuals, stumbled across the myth, went insane, suffered a horrible death, or came to the shocking realization that they were part of the myth, and set apart from all humanity. Main idea is that the myth cannot be understood, nor countered, by neither science, religion, or occultism. A sucker-punch mostly works though. Every insight concerning the truth is another step into madness. White Wolf's “Adventure RPG” emphasizes that joy of life and courage prevail against all villains & evils though. This is FICTION. Hint : You may treat tentacled beings, cosmic horrors, and the abomination of Azelthoth, as either pulp-readers-fantasy-come-true, induced hallucinations due drugs (kind of cavern-gas), symbols for a psychological struggle, perhaps caused by a wicked mesmerism. Or simplified: Z-wave mutants.

“For those valiant fools who face such wicked curse, a handful of humans against the scum of planet Earth.”

The Arkham Instigator, short summary Today, 01.06.1925, the investigations of the police ended. The last months were filled with a nearly incomparable effort to illuminate the disappearance of the well known persons struggling versus preternatural incursions. The small town by the name Dunstable became the stage for an unsolved mystery-crime. The central figures: Adriano Trumpet, Sebastian Crowley, and J.T. Heidelbach remain missing. Just a few hours after the local police was alarmed the government had ordered that Dunstable was to be secured by forces of the US army. The scarce evidence comes down to a torn, bloodstained coat, blood, and two bullet holes of handgun calibre. Police declared that the assumption of a cult crime could be valid. With the end of the investigations the flags were lowered to half-mast. Arkhams greatest newspaper willingly covers all expenses of the investigation, and encourages further search for evidence, and our folk heroes.

For years the occultist, and small time actor, Sebastian Crowley, the business lawyer J.T. Heidelbach, as last-but-not-least the ex-monk, and pulp writer, Adriano Trumpet got drawn into situations, which would shatter the mind of the average citizen. The activities of obscured cults, and alien entities, left tracks to a horrifying truth which is confronted by inspired people. Sanity threatening discoveries of forbidden lore hint at the possibility that earth is suffering the dark plots of maniac, chthonic deities who undermined humanity for aeons. The myth was detected in multiple places, and again and again the survivors faced the problem of knowing the truth, while being surrounded by oblivious neighbours, telluric energy, insane entities, and their bloodthirsty minions.

Anxiety, and enervating pressure of ignoring the unacceptable facts, take their toll. Yet some myth-sleuths gained special insights which proved beneficial. One of those valiant groups operated in the light of publicity, and scored admirable successes in series. They became a symbol of inspiration and hope for entire humanity. Of course the tentacled conspirators flayed them alive before this story started. Survivor of this bunch was Adriano Trumpet. After the death of his fiancé he was trying to compensate trauma by indulging masculine fallacies. The Old Ones had other plans in mind though. In 1918 he was dismissed from the Corpo di Armato, and realized new gain of initiative. Confronted by overwhelming forces he decided to deal crucial damage, as long, as he could. His journey on the fruitless road of retribution. He was seen gazing at a burning tarot card. The desperate assault of a single brave soldier. Illusions of heroism and glory were not for him any more. A long termed, and painful, struggle against forces one couldn’t defeat was his more realistic answer. Yet he was aware how many times outgunned individuals stood forthright against cults, criminals, and crazed scientists. Where they succeeded they were called heroes, where they faltered they were labelled fools.

The necessity of introspection was not to be ignored. In battle with horrors from beyond there was no reason to grant them further advantages due ones own mental instability. Of course such insights came the hard way in a man's younger years. The three protagonists had their first meeting in 1922, Calcutta, India, as they were drawn into a revival of the thug activities, and the masterminding influence behind it. Through a lack of subterfuge in the thuggish actions, they found out about occult meaning of their vile crimes. Supposed accidents and sicknesses could be proven ritual murders of this heretic, abstract local cult of sycophants. Deluded that the goddess Chalice asked to re-establish the cosmic balance with Shiva, there was assassinated, whoever stood in the way of the vicious sycophants, or their deranged plans.

Crowley valiantly stepped up, to face the blood-magick, Trumpet welcomed the escape from boredom, and Heidelbach wouldn’t allow a bunch of crazy, knife-wielding blackouts to spoil his investments in this region. When they discovered first signs that a surprising outbreak of disease was the dirty work of these religious madmen, even the British advisers could no longer hesitate.

Need of circumstance, and Heidelbach’s political influence, allowed them to join forces with the responsible military of the Commonwealth. Weeks passed in the draining heat, and short of the breaking point they eavesdropped information about a ritual gathering, and even managed to identify some thuggees. They followed those cultists and discovered their hideout. Caverns in derelict parts of the country, and minor camps along the roads. Duty on side of the British soldiers, and grim resolve of the three, made them charge into the caverns. During the first phase of infiltration they managed to rescue Dr. Derek Nail from the fangs of a dark courtesan who had schemed to ritually feed upon him in service to Dhurga. Nails natural gift of seduction had blinded him, sexist-hubris' ignorant shadow-side, for the price of seeing women only as sex-toys. For the three myth-sniffers it didn’t matter, the cult had to be stopped, and if syphilitic Nail was foolish enough, he would continue to reap forbidden fruits until the consequences tore him apart. Gentlemen treat consequence as a lady, not as a whore.

After their first case was solved they were celebrated by the British embassy and the society of early human culture. They had, by chance, not only fought the cultists, but by their raw courage alone pasted a minor banishment versus the dreaded influence from beyond. Now such villains had to expect repercussions, if they dared to stomp on law and humanity. Dr. Nail was brought forth to the best asylum of the western world, to purify his shredded self from the torment of his recent experiences. While the media entitled them heroes it was Colonel Fleming who earned this.

It was his tenacity, and disciplined leadership, which made them prevail, even when body and soul were at stake. The memories were clear enough to still shake all of them. In those dark and dreaded caverns they suffered the sight of a lower servitor, which’s stench and insane chanting, full of soulpain and sorrow, haunted their minds for a long, long time. In midst of those stone carved cavern walls full of ceremonial symbols a strangling feeling hit their guts. They would never know if some incense or the alien atmosphere shocked them more. As they entered they had still believed to fight down some thugs, arrest the cults guru, and go home.

A notch away from the truth of battle they were. As they charged on they encountered the abomination which the cult worshipped. For an instance insanity seemingly kicked God from the throne, and seemed all-consuming. A second later they had to fight for their very souls. The handful of soldiers prepared for battle while Crowley studied the painted walls. Trumpet, who was pretty shaken by this intense situation, realized this was no problem solved by simple fire-power. Heidelbach, influenced by this thing, was drowning in a wave of horrid self-pity and soul-sucking-trash. Unable to fire his reliable handgun again, he stared like a drunken peasant who realized he had just kissed his cow. Crowley focused on countering the strange rituals formula, and achieved some form of banishing power. The German-Sicilian bastardo guarded the occupied occultist, but couldn’t shake completely free from the grasp of shock. As the magical effort overstretched Crowleys mental balance, and the first soldiers got seriously wounded, Trumpet finally focused his self.

Mistaken to be the effect of Crowleys ritual incantation, the banishment of the horrid creature came completely surprising to all of the shocked eyes. The creature faded from flesh to ethereal, much like an overcome nightmare. In this moment of triumph it was Adriano's realism which shocked his companions. He explained that the creature was neither destroyed, nor arrested, capable of returning after a short phase of recovery. While their psyches were marked by this night, they nonetheless fell into a cheerful victory mood, everyone busy to rationalize these haunting moments. The look in the eyes of Colonel Fleming was all which spoke of this chapter ever after. After they had withdrawn from the caves, short after the first full night of sleep, the next setback awaited. Embittered they had to swallow that further investigation was impossible, cause the British army decided to detonate caves in this area to secure the local villages, and avoid further spread of this wicked disease. They had saved hundreds of people ,and did give their very best, yet they felt like beaten dogs, when they left India.

Heidelbach rapidly ventured back to the United States. An old acquaintance, by then a high ranking diplomat, had asked him to interfere with a heavyweight political crisis. Gunter von Gotha had manipulated the economy, to revive his dream of the German Kaiser Reich. Heidelbach coordinated, and led, several executives to deal with this mundane danger. This time there were no signs of mysterious influence to be found. Aiding the USA shortly after the great war proved valuable nonetheless. The public was pleased, and the media celebrated Heidelbach as a defender of western culture. The Arkham Instigator entitled Heidelbach „a Star shining brightest“. Crowley compared this with his astrological data, and made some divination concerning the destiny of Joshua. Trumpet was less euphoric, and remained silent.

After they had left India some month of recovery, and calmer bachelor life, took place. In February 1923 the three met again, as they dared to intercept some uncommon occurrences in Japan. Work on a planned road brought forth a discovery of some strange relic, which had seemingly summoned a group of spooky, pale cultists out of proverbial nowhere. The chanting, and dancing, of these people irritated the workers, and when the heart of a work group leader was found on some savage altar, it was no longer prejudice that spoiled the climate here.

The real horror started, when a small mountainside monastery was discovered to be the headquarter of some weird Asian sect. Far from the shores there was just one village close by, and so the monastery was still filed as deserted in the official Japanese reports. An illusion, which was falling apart, as Sgt. Koromiko arrived with a squad of soldiers. Patient information gathering, and his personal cunning, made Koromiko realize a sense of weirdness about this mission. Maybe support from Iteki was seen as more appropriate than risking more Japanese soldiers. Officially the honour, that Iteki like Heidelbach were allowed to join up on this investigation at all, is nearly inexpressible to western barbarians. Adriano was somewhat uncertain about the usefulness of Japanese infantry equipment for in-house-fighting. This insight should prove real. Koromikos decision made them clash with the lunacy of a culture, which was nearly as strange to them, as the vile web of the Old Ones. While the first monk cells still somehow resembled something human, every step towards the centre made the foreboding sense of danger more intense. Dirty, degenerate, and hideously desecrated was this scene. The acumen of Crowley would be the only chance of escape for the trio, yet this was totally unknown to them at this point.

Anyway, without the glorious sacrifice of the Japanese soldiers, they would have been condemned to a painful, slow death. Confronted with an abomination of myth horror, and battle ready thugs of this entity, it should come to a tunnel-fight which equalled the German-French trenches from 1914-1916 in all bitter aspects which fighting wreaks upon human existence. The scene turned into utmost torment for flesh, Ki, and Do which was hardly to top. A gory skirmish through the narrow corridors of the monastery was about to begin. As the first wave ended in those tunnels, the adventurers split to support some soldiers. Sebastian concentrated, forming an astral blade, resembling the dagger he wielded. Thereby he gained the chance to hurt the essence of ethereal beings as well. Joined by two soldiers he entered a corridor, advancing in flickering light, and surrounded by nerve ripping sounds. Close to the end of the passage he recognized an arcane symbol, and while the soldiers thought of an dead end, Sebastian chanted versus the walls.

Due his talent with magick he was able to energize the symbol, and opened a secret door. The soldiers were struck by surprise due to his innate abilities. Crowley expected the natural, an attack of a dark adept. The bloody dance of blades would demand toll from them. Toll which Crowley was more than willing to pay. The soldiers could fire once before it became close quarters. Meanwhile Heidelbach led another two soldiers and marched on. The dirty gibberish at the walls left him totally unimpressed. Instinct was, what made him survive such situations. The slot eyed cultists felt so superior in their ambush, that the massive counterstrike of Joshua caught them unprepared. As he had expected those degenerates never before encountered resistance. His ACP brought death to some of them, and another one was smashed down by a powerful punch, even before the soldiers could fully react. Boxing, bleeding, shivering, and blocking they survived this altercation. For a while the illusion of a glorious victory would offer itself. Trumpet stood close to Koromiko, watching. Giri and Courage couldn’t make the confusion go away. This was no typical mission for soldiers. The men sensed that they wouldn’t survive such a place much longer. Adriano sneaked into a corridor. Fear tried to strangle his confidence, and it demanded an act of willpower. Two times his intuition made him throw grenades into sections he felt to be dreadful. The following death cries made his doubts vanish. In his guts cramps started, this was not only fear.

This place was not part of their via fatum, whatever lurked here, his awareness failed to reveal anything about the deeper levels. Surprised by his own skill he perceived himself blocking the knife of a cultist, and countering by a move he adapted from the few month of Weng Chen Kung Fu he once decided to practice. Calm, but dedicated, did he cut his gratitude into the flesh of this cultist. While Trumpet expressed his allergy to vice, the tables began to turn. The minions launched an organized assault, and the pure strength of numbers drove the soldiers backwards. When defeat became obvious the remaining soldiers grouped, giving evidence that mere mortals are no less heroic, to allow Crowley the chance to grasp through a breach of reality, and save his companions. Weeks later Crowley honoured the sacrifice of the Japanese squad by a play in the Noh theatre. Adriano chose silence as a suiting honour, and never mentioned anything about this, except that Wakino, who translated for them in the village, escaped her shame via traditional suicide. The survivors took care that the few captured scripts, and warding symbols, were handed to proper instances. When the evacuation of the village was coordinated they found some weeks of time to flow with their mushien. They met a Miko, and even found an ancient Kitsune scroll, which they copied and handed to a museum. While Adriano had nothing more to offer he found some emotional link to the female side of Japan. Here he learned that not all women taste like rotting fish. Crowley studied the scripts, and practised some Tantojutsu. Again their interference had cost them much, and they did spend months for recovery. Adriano chose to visit his place of birth, Giardini-Naxos, and enjoyed the Italian monastery close to Monte Casino.

Time went by, and the memories where no longer so harrowing to them. When Trumpet met tourists he couldn’t ignore the self-righteous ignorance which transformed so many humans into a twisted bunch of swine. Crowley told them at the departure he would visit Egypt, and indeed, Adriano received two letters. The first covered Crowleys first week in Memphis, and described his attempts to teach basics of the real myth to his adepts. Unknown to Trumpet his brother-in-arms Crowley was busy countering the spreading of a cult of Apophis. From the moment that he stepped out of the plane Sebastian was sure that something was lurking for him here. The atmosphere, and bustling streets, could no longer delude a skilled occultist from sensing the tell-tale signs. Sebastian asked subtle questions, observed, and bribed his way to get more detailed information right away. When he finally investigated in the poorer districts, he learned to translate the lore.

It was Anuth'otep who had decrypted the necromantic Lore from the books of the dead into a distorted way. Unsurprisingly, even in Egypt people got angry, when some deranged fanatics dug