Dishonored Guests
Arkin, Cruncho, Linmer, and Sizzle set out to absolutely buggerfuck Seventh Tower’s premier Deckherd Hall gala (presented by Studebaker Spud and Puerto Rico Strauss in an uneven collaboration).
Linmer infiltrated the party as the Shmeek’s chaperone. The Shmeek’s dipshit teenage friends Cole and Claire decided to tag along. Linmer should not be left to chaperone rambunctious teens.
Linmer ALSO discovered that the Spider had some of her mechanical arachnids in the walls, and was planning . . . something.
Arkin and Cruncho got hired on as lighting and mechanical techs for the party. Arkin rigged the place to malfunction in sundry different ways, while Cruncho set to poisoning the water supply with Drownwater (makes you feel like you’re drowning for a few seconds upon ingestion). Arkin ALSO made contact with the Clockmaker via one of the Spiders, who informed his fleshy doppelganger that there was to be an unspecified “test” tonight.
Sizzle linked up with Reek, the Red-Sash-outsource plug operating out of Crow’s Foot. After nearly bearing witness to a fatal coffee, Heartcalm, Bloodneedle, and black pepper cocktail, Sizzle made off with the drugs and replaced them with a special concoction of Linmer’s own devising.
But what chaos unfolded at the party, I hear you ask?
First, the sound system “accidentally” caught fire.
Then, Cruncho was caught poisoning the water supply and went completely sicko mode on some ex-Marines.
THEN, Linmer “accidentally” knocked over a pyramid of champagne flutes onto Lady Bowmore, and was chastened heartily. When he regained his composure, the teenagers had all vanished.
THEN Sizzle got her hands on a Seventh Tower thug’s uniform with the help of Caleb Hollow, who took the thug’s body and was subsequently a naked vampire in Six Towers for about 24 unsupervised hours.
THEN, Sam and Mikh the Black Knights showed up, ostensibly for a couple’s night out. The two immortal soldiers then went off the handle on Cruncho and Sizzle upon seeing them both and realizing that Something Was Afoot (‘off the handle’ here meaning extreme violence).
THEN the lights went out, and the Spider made her move . . . Attacking Mikh in the midst of the party, even as Cruncho and Sizzle began fleeing from/fighting off various Seventh Tower forces that started to close in on their positions.
Cruncho tetherball-style flung a hyper-Shmeeking Shmeek into a mass of ex-Marines. The Shmeek would have been black-bagged and possibly disappeared forever . . . Had a combination of expert marksmanship from Sizzle, legendary football prowess from Cruncho, and several smokebombs from Arkin not saved the youth from possible demise and CERTAIN incarceration.
Cruncho is on friendly speaking terms with the Clockmaker.
The Spider held her own against Mikh, but not before revealing some kind of sparkcraft-and-arcana-assisted super-physique . . . and revealing her identity as Claire Strangford.
Sizzle led Sam on a wild goose chase, but ultimately warded her off with a combination of parkour and honest emotional inventory. As a result of this, Sam and a bloodied Mikh decided that they’d have a lot more fun destroying Deckherd Hall than playing at being a couple enjoying a fancy party.
Apparently, Sam and Mikh are ostensible allies of Seventh Tower. The Man in the Hat was irritated but ultimately unsurprised that they decided to start smashing his place.
Lady Bowmore ultimately expired after being 1. Smashed by champagne flutes, 2. Having a large cake overturned atop her, and 3. Being trampled in rapid succession by Cruncho, Sizzle, Sam, and a troupe of ex-Marines.
-A grieving Anastasia Bowmore laid one on Linmer. LiNmEr’S gOt A gIrLfRiEnD!!111!!!!
-The Man in the Hat confronted Linmer and tried to pressure him into betraying the Nameless in exchange for relief from his paranoia.
-The Man in the Hat ALSO confronted Sizzle, and revealed himself to be . . . her long-lost father! Sizzle responded by shooting him through the chest. This does not seem to have fully taken as a killshot.
-The Spider got her hands on Linmer’s blood. Linmer is also not allowed to chaperone the Shmeek ever again.
-No idea what happened to Cole.
AND IN THE END, the Nameless escaped, having THOROUGHLY ruined the party and assisted in completely ripping the guts out of Deckherd Hall.
Retrospective
The Man with the Hat steeples his fingers, crouching over the large stone block as though it were a conference table. His guests do not comply with the fiction.
“I believe that every failure is a learning opportunity,” he begins with steely cheer, casting his eyes around the motley assemblage, “But to LEARN, we must first identify our failures! So, I would ask each of us in turn . . . What HAPPENED last night? Boris?”
Boris sighs from his perch, casting a wary eye over his fellows. When he speaks, his tone is carefully neutral.
“On my end? Too much shit going on. You threw drugs AND my box AND sparkcraft at this party, but you left it in charge of Strauss and Spud and expected them to play nice. Too many places for things to go wrong. Of course the Nameless were gonna take advantage.”
“Oh shit, THAT was the Nameless?” exclaims Sam around an enormous mouthful of some unspecified crustacean, “Damn okay, that makes things interesting-“
“Fair enough! THANK you, Boris. That’s very helpful!” (Boris grunts with perfect neutrality) “Even in their weakened state, it is ABSOLUTELY fair to assume that the Nameless might try something! Which is why I asked YOU, esteemed Black Knights of the Immortal Emperor, to provide some security! But instead, you-.”
An arrow is abruptly through the Man in the Hat’s chest. Sam stands up lazily, shouldering her bow.
“Lemme make somethin’ reaaaal clear, sweetie,” she beams, “We ain’t your employees. We don’t work for you. We’re here for somethin’ waaaay more important than your little real-estate fuck-dickery-“
“KAH! I . . . UNDERSTAND, but-“
“DO NOT. INTERRUPT ME. LITTLE MAN.”
There is a beat of silence. After a moment, Sam continues.
“So! You ask us for somethin’? We’ll do it! If we feel like it. You want some party security? We’ll do it! IF we feel like it. But if somethin’ shows up an’ makes us feel different? Then we’ll do WHAT we feel like. Make sense?”
The Man in the Hat pauses for a moment, and then nods. Satisfied, Sam sits down. A slight hissing echo from a nearby Dimmer Sister might possibly be a derisive chuckle.
“Fair enough, madam. Might I therefore RESPECTFULLY inquire as to WHO you were fighting and WHY they convinced you to half-destroy Deckherd Hall?”
“You sure can!” Sam beams. After a moment of silence, the Man in the Hat moves on.
“Regardless . . . This new agent of the Nameless, this ‘Spider’ . . . I think we can all agree that her involvement, AND the as-yet-unexplained Crow exodus, AND the continued persistence of the Nameless in Six Towers means that they are a more formidable force than we might have assumed?”
Nobody replies, but the Man in the Hat plows forward.
“And I’m SURE we can all agree that their continued defiance of the Seventh Tower Consortium AND the duly-blessed agents of our beloved Immortal Emperor represent a kind of blasphemy beyond the usual activities of the criminal element?”
Boris remains neutral, but Sam perks up at this.
“AND let us not forget the death of poor Roslyn, doubtless at their savage hands, even as they were busy blowing up scores of loyal Imperial veterans!” the Man in the Hat continues, gesturing in a conciliatory way towards the nearby Dimmer Sister (and, indirectly, their temple in the background).
A hiss emerges from the Dimmer Sister, or the temple behind her. The Man in the Hat nods, having interpreted it one way. Boris purses his lips. Sam smirks. Both had caught the Sisters’ true meaning.
“SO! I rather think it’s our collective duty as loyal subjects of the Empire to scorch them from the face of Akaros! Blunt, brutal force, and damn the expenses! Strike bold and true, as the Immortal Emperor did against the foul gods of yore! With the might of the Black Knights, the magicks of the Dimmer Sisters, and the money of the Seventh Tower Consortium, these blaspheming impeding INFURIATING SNAKES will bedevil the good people of the Empire NO FURTHER!”
Nodding companionably at the other two approximate-humans in the room, the Man in the Hat vanishes. Boris rises and begins to leave, and then stops.
“So, when all this is done,” he drawls, turning back to Sam, “Would you mind if I feed him to my box? For Roslyn, and for the Sisters.”
Sam examines him through narrowed eyes, and then beams again.
“Sure! If we feel like it!”
Two Hats! Part II
It had seemed like such a long shot to ask Linmer about the man in the hat the night of the Seventh Tower shindig. After all, Sizzle had only taken in enough of the scene to notice the two were standing near each other before her focus had been directed towards the charging seven-foot tall knight. It wasn’t a guarantee they were speaking, or had even been aware of each other at that moment – hell, it was barely even a hunch.
But then again, she had always had a knack for long shots.
Sizzle picks up one of the two hats on the table, running her finger along the brim, her eyes lingering on each of the Nameless that Linmer had gathered. “I see ya’ll have met him, then.”
Her gaze returns to the hat, her eyes tracing the path of her finger, lingering at each of the singe marks in turn.
“The damn coward found me right as I was leaving Deckherd Hall. He offered me a deal; I counter-offered a bullet to his chest. Unfortunately, he vanished into black smoke instead of becoming a corpse.”
She holds the hat up the hawk on her shoulder, who daintily uses its beak to test the stiff leather.
“So, now I’m left with two questions I’m hopin’ ya’ll can help me with. One, where can I find the sonofabitch again, and two, how do I kill him?”
“Wait, so you already know him? Ehhhhh…” Linmer moves to stroke his long beard uneasily, only to find air (thanks to his recent costume change). He recaps Jammer’s run-in with Hatman at the docks, as well as his own run-in with the haunt soon after.
“How do we kill him? I, I dunno… Eh, he doesn’t seem to think we can touch him, and so far, he seems to be right. But how do we find him? Three ideas:”
A finger goes up. “He keeps popping up in the course of normal Nameless business, so we could just wait.”
A second. “These hats are real. They’re physical. There’s gonna be a haberdasher in the city selling them, and considering how many we’ve seen him drop, he’s probably a regular.”
Finally, a thumb.
“And ehhhhh…. I don’t like suggesting this… but he offered both of us deals, but left without a way to call on him. Maybe… ehhh…. Maybe if someone accepts his deal, he’ll just…appear?” While speaking the third point, Linmer’s eyes dart between the room’s shadows, seeming to search for the form of the Hatman in the darkness. He seems to jump, just a little, at a coat resting on a chair.
“Well, I know him. Whether he knows me is an entirely different question.” She lets out a soft chuckle and leans forward with interest as Linmer launches into his retelling.
Sizzle listens thoughtfully, her chin resting on her clasped hands. As Linmer finishes, she takes the hat back from Velvet, returning it to the table with its twin.
“Interestin’ ideas all. I think the last one’s out, though. I couldn’t accept a deal if I tried, mainly ‘cause I shot him ‘fore he could offer any terms. An’ truth be told, I ain’t interested in summoning him ‘less I have somethin’ to exploit.”
Her sharp grey eyes flick between Linmer and the other Nameless in the room. “But the hats… I think I can help with that.”
She sits up abruptly, letting out a sharp whistle. At the command, Velvet leaps from her perch on Sizzle’s shoulder towards the darkest corner of the room, alighting on Sizzle’s travel pack. She flicks a clasp open with her beak, grabs the contents in her claws, and flies back, gently depositing two more hats in Sizzle’s lap.
One of the new hats is a perfect match for the two already on the table: black, matte leather, subtle decorative lacing around the brim. The other is of the same design, but the leather is white, almost pearlescent. And where the black hats look almost new (save the scorch marks on Jammer’s), the white one looks worn-in and well-cared for. The leather is more supple, the sharp-cut edges softly rounded down in the way that can only occur from daily wear over many years.
“What I can tell ya is, the milliner ain’t in Duskvol; she’s in the Imperial City. Our boy special orders ‘em in bulk, has a shipment delivered by train every few months.” Sizzle casually tosses the black hat onto the table with the others. “I came in on the same train his latest order did.”
“And this–” she holds up the white hat, pausing for emphasis. “– it’s also his. The very same milliner told me he came in wearin’ it ‘bout twenty years ago, sayin’ he was lookin’ for a change. He’s been a loyal customer ever since.”