Mend Fences, Swing Clubs
The Nameless faked a lightning wall incident and made Captain Clelland and Erin of the Billhooks look like heroes of the hour WHILE ALSO doing an Inconvenient Truth.
The Billhooks are financially embedded into the fabric of V-Sea-W and their civil war is over, with Erin as acting leader. Coran of the Billhooks has encountered Super Saiyan Goose and subsequently suffered ego death.
As a bonus, the Nameless struck up a financial relationship with the Fog Hounds smugglers, and the Lampblacks are now under increased police scrutiny.
The Ironworks has been rebuilt with HEFTY controlling finance from the Ministry of Preservation.
Meanwhile in Six Towers… (mumble mumble Strauss X7 nightclub)
- Olga, community leader in Six Towers
- Puerto Rico Strauss, enigmatic and strangely charismatic restauranteur with a string of failures and several low-end goons to his name
- Boris Volkov, techno Viking and former Cloudspire architect. Also Katya’s brother.
- Doctor Heinrich the Crow, now trapped in Ghost Box
- Charity, sibling to the dead Mercy
- Bhed the Wolf feeds on the ego
- The electroplasmic guitar has been invented
- Hungry Steve
Pre-Session Lore
- Ironworks is a company with multiple stakeholders, not least of which are all seven houses on the city council and successful mercantile class members. The Ironworks stakeholders are managing repairs, but a lot of help is coming in from the Ministry of Preservation.
- Materials are a problem down at the Docks because the profusion of excess material being ordered and shipped over creates a lot of possibility for criminal/cop profit. Components are going for a LOT these days.
- Leviathan Hunters are built to literally grapple with demon whales. Not a lot of commercial or private watercraft can handle that.
The Interrogation
Studebaker Spud kneels on the floor of a darkened room, sweating profusely and contused along his bare back. An unseen figure paces about him, present only in the swish of fabric and the occasional welt they leave.
There is a sense that this could turn from punitive to kinky at the drop of a dime.
“Again, Mr. Spud,” intones the figure from the darkness, “And do it right this time.”
“Okay, now . . . Ain’t no need f’r more scourgin’ . . .” gasps Spud, hands raised conciliatorily, “It’s like this, now . . . Ol’ Spud hired out them Nameless folks for ta get rid o’ that nightclub just like y’ asked. Problem is, them Six Towers folk jes’ wanted things at Strauss X7 (that’s the nightclub, now) ta quiet down a little, on account o’ the loud music. An’ them Billhooks, well, they wanted a piece o’ the club, and they’s business ‘ssociates with the Nameless now. So ol’ Spud got outbid, ya see! Now the club’s a joint Billhooks-Nameless ennerprise . . . But they’s QUIET, now! Ain’t that enough? Ain’t no more het’rosessuality an’ whatnot comin’ outta there. Ain’t that ‘nough?”
Something lashes from the darkness across Spud’s back, and he yelps. The quality of the yelp leaves the dynamic of this interrogation ambiguous.
“And why are the Billhooks involved with the Nameless AT ALL, Mr. Spud?”
“Ooooh, that’s a whole ‘nother story! See, them Nameless went on down to the Docks to resolve all a’ the chicanery an’ foot-dickin’ ‘round over the Lightning Wall. They was dealin’ with the Bluecoats, the Ministry of Preservation, the Lampblacks, the Fog Hounds . . . and the Billhooks! All a’ them was impedin’ progress, now, and the Nameless was gonna set ‘em right. SO, they faked a Lightnin’ Wall failure ta scare ‘em all straight, let the Bluecoats take the credit f’r handlin’ it, hired the Fog Hounds on ta work as fences, an’ got rid a’ that boy Coran so’s Erin could take over the Billhooks as sole leader! So NOW them Nameless done suborned the Foghounds, quid-pro-quo’d Capt’n Morgan Clelland o’ the Bluecoats, scared them Lampblacks, an’ got the Billhooks on-side so’s the Lightning Wall’d get fixed!”
Spud winces, expecting another lash. None is forthcoming.
“And how does that make it so the Billhooks ended up financially entangled with the Nameless?”
“Well, so it’s a tricky situation! See, Erin was Coran’s aunt, now, and Coran’s dad runs the Billhooks from prizon. Them two was tryin’ ta jockey f’r leadership, but they couldn’t move ‘gainst each other cuz they’s kin and they’s got partisans in the Billhooks. Ain’t want the gang to collapse under them, now. So Erin thinks, ‘I want my nephew gone, but I don’t want them as does it to have no blackmail on me’. So she says ‘y’all do what y’all gonna do, but y’all gonna let me invest in Void Sea Wrestlin’, so’s I can tank your business if’n I need to. An’ y’all’s gonna let me put MY fightin’ pits under V-Sea-Dub, so’s we can make money off that brand recognition!’”
”. . . I . . . see . . . And so, back to Strauss X7. The Nameless own the club, although it is under Billhooks management. How did they get the owner to part with it? We know enough about Puerto Rico Strauss to know he would not sell his only successful endeavor willingly.”
“Okay, so follow me now . . . Puerto Rico Strauss had hisself a magic money bag. He thought he was prayin’ t’ his dead friend Hungry Steve an’ that Hungry Steve was givin’ him ghost money, but it was somethin’ else . . .
High Spirits
Boris Volkov is sitting at a table in Tangletown’s only bar with Roslyn (who, as the Dimmer Sisters’ main contact with the outside world, has a multitude of last names as needed). Boris is sipping contemplatively on a glass of water. Roslyn is six shots deep and not showing it.
“Void Sea Wrestling, then . . . the marquee location, or one of the Billhooks’ bastardizations?” asks Roslyn, her voice clear as a bell even as she gestures for a seventh shot.
“The main one, don’t worry. I’ll still be in Six Towers,” shrugs Boris, “The Box works great as a merch table and the like. Lots of people feeling big feelings, the roar of the crowd, the triumph, the heartbreak, the dreams . . . it’s good. Probably better than anything Strauss would have given us, and the Sisters don’t even have to generate extra silver to keep the arrangement going. People love their action figures.”
“Quite. Well, the Sisters’ guest is eating well at your trough, Mr. Volkov. Keep this up, and we’ll have no reason to escalate things with the Nameless.”
Boris attempts a non-commital nod, and largely succeeds. If Roslyn notices the slight relaxation of his shoulders, and the relief it signifies, she gives no indication.
“And are YOU happy, Boris?” she asks suddenly, “The Sisters are pleased with your commitment. They would not have Duskwall be a source of sadness, after all you have been through.”
Boris eyes her with some curiosity at this, and then shrugs again.
”. . . I have good days and bad days. Today isn’t so bad.”
“You ought to get OUT more, Boris! See the sights, experience the town! Duskwall has so much to offer, if you’ll only look for it. This isn’t called the Jewel of Akaros for nothing, you know!”
She leans in suddenly, and all the color drains from her face. When she speaks, her voice is not her own.
“IF ALL OF THE EMPIRE WERE FALLEN, AND THE EMPEROR FORCED TO RETAIN ONE SEAT OF POWER, HE WOULD PICK DUSKVOL. MARK THIS PLACE WELL, BORIS. THERE IS SO MUCH TO FIND.”
She sits back forcefully, gasping slightly as the color returns to her face. She looks up at Boris, and matches his burgeoning smile.
“Well . . .” grins Boris, quaffing his water, “Far be it from me to question the Immortal Emperor . . .”
He stands now, and there is a lightness to his step and a cheeriness to his gaze. Those strange words from Roslyn’s mouth have made him a new man.
“You’re right, Ros! I think I’ll be a tourist for a bit. Take a walk, see the sights . . . Get some exercise! See you tonight, eh?”
She winks at him as he strides towards the door. He starts to laugh as he leaves Tangletown, unable to contain the new joy bubbling inside of him. His hilarity brightens the day of passerby, because they don’t know that every chortle promises a body count.
The Interrogation (II)
” . . . So, when the Nameless shut off the ghost money, ol’ Strauss had ta sell, ‘else his bouncers was gonna tear him to pieces. That dumbass thinks Hungry Steve tol’ him ta shed his worldly possessions an’ go party with the people or somethin’.”
There is silence, and for a moment Spud looks terrified.
“Improbable though it may be, Mr. Spud, this lines up with what our sources have told us. You may dress.”
Sweating and thanking profusely, Spud hustles into his shirt. The door, previously unseen, opens up to reveal the lit interior of Deckherd Hall, awash with the sounds of workers (NEW workers, that is. Lugos’ handiwork has been removed, and enough coin can persuade any Duskwall laborer to work in a sufficiently haunted house). As he begins to depart, the voice poses a final question.
“Out of curiosity, Mr. Spud . . . How DID the Nameless kill Coran of the Billhooks?”
Winging It
The Horned One is not comfortable in Coran’s body. They had forgotten about clothes nearly a millenium ago, and their brief time as a goose had not served to remind them. It had taken several gawking passerby to remind them that half of Coran’s vestments had been blown off when they’d taken over. They’d stolen a shirt and trousers from a washing line, and a human had come out to dispute their taking. Throwing the human through a nearby window had not ended the commotion, but they’d escaped easily. The Horned One is very fast.
They sit in a warehouse now, seemingly abandoned in the excitement surrounding the Lightning Wall’s near-collapse. They are surrounded by geese. They like the geese, and the geese seem to like them.
At the urging of their companions beneath the waves, the Horned One sets their will into the minds of the geese. It is not as easy as it once was, but far easier now with a human body to draw upon. Coran will not survive their tenure, but his death will be worth it (thinks the Horned One).
A SHIP. WE NEED A SHIP. HELP US PROCURE A SHIP.
Honking obediently, the geese waddle off. The Horned One sits, and waits.