40th Day of Winter, 518 A.V.
3rd bell, Night.
3rd bell, Night.
The stars abruptly shone through the mire of the Slag heaps fog that typically occluded it all on the foulest of evenings. The uplifting plums of smog made the air heady and full of libation as revelry could always be found near it. The city took pride in the burning slag. A symbol of freedom to scum and civilian alike.
While one side of the coin chose to party, the others felt a sense of purposeful duty. More people than usual wandered the city this night. All of them dressed for combat. Their hands grasping at the wooden surfaces of gem encrusted masks. Many seemed to move about with wanderlust, while others congregated throughout the city along the roads south of Riverside. At the third bell of the new day, each of them began to hide their faces behind their masks, as was their orders.
***
The flickering of a candle on a table danced with the movements of a swaying ship. The wood of the ship creaked heavily, no doubt straining against water as wind caught within its sails to guide it further inland to the rivers fork at the center of the city from the mouth of Baroque Bay. To those who reveled in the Sunberthan nightlife, it must have been a shock to see the Slab-ship that once seemed to have been petrified at the pier now moving for the first time in many seasons. The sounds of a crew managing its sails could hardly be seen by normal means in dark of night, but it was clear some sailors had gotten it to move.
The sun had long since set as the third bell of the day had just begun. A raised voice muffled from a door nearby, breaking the ambiance of the waters outside. It caused Stiletto to arch their head slowly from the bed they rested on within the captains quarters of the saique merchant ship. The voice continued with a low drawl.
It called out like the sound of light blubbering, the early stage of crying.
When the door opened, Stiletto stood to their feet while dressed in their typically obtuse armor, with their face obscured by a helm of exquisite design. The Boss smirked under their helm as they gazed upon their new visitor. 'The Mother' took a deep breath as she entered the quarter. She walked towards her leader as she ran her fingers along the mask in her hand. She looked gaunt and pale. The contrast made the milky white of her burn scar and cataracted eye shine all the brighter in the candle light.
There were dark circles under her eyes and tired lines on her face. But it only made her seem more mature. More experienced. "The Children are ready." The woman said with a sly smirk. It caused Stiletto to reach to their side to pinch the candles wick which snuffed out its flame.
"Good. And our dear Doctor?" Mother gave Stiletto a nod before putting on a mask of her own. A helm of her own, quite similar to Stiletto's helm as she walked by their side on the way to the cargo hold, it made the two look as if odd twins.
The Slab made everyone on the ship uneasy, save for Stiletto and Doctor Petricious who currently stood behind it, carving a sharpened blade across its surface which caused its marble-flesh to separate. Its wounds brought the Doctor relief and the Slab a sense of belonging.
For a person without fear, Stiletto was able to look upon the Slab with esoteric intrigue. The Slab was something in the realm of mixed presences, possibly categorized under alien sycophant and non-euclidian art. It was beautiful in its own way.
Its body was like that of a pycon made of marble, human sized, its rectangular central body had grown over the seasons since summer to the size of a man's torso; a squared girth of a rib cage. Stiletto had watched it evolve over time, from walking like a spider with three legs protruding from each of its longer sides. To now standing on two horse like legs of its own. Although, the spiders legs now acted like bladed arms in a violent Eypharian fashion.
As Stiletto stared upon it while walking down the decks steps, they could tell its deepest horror. The Boss's nose sniffed at the corruption in the air. It smelt of a person trapped in a cell, left to rot in their own fecal matter, left to remain in a self-depreciating prison of loneliness. The Slab's fear was a tactile thing to the Krivas who enjoyed the taste. It did not want to be alone. It was like a needy child, far too human in many of the worst ways.
"My friends, shall we play?" Stiletto stated in the most soothing of tones, their tone of voice falling into the lowest form of masculine effeminacy, or vice versa.
Stiletto welded that fear to control the Slab, but put no trust in the magical nature of the creature. It was why they needed the Doctor. It was a tool that could be useful and from behind it, Sunberth's very own Mad Doctor happily stood as the wielder of this tool.
The Doctor was calm with an impassive face. He didn't seem to mind that the creature now stood a head taller than him. The sound Stiletto heard came from the Slab. It had no mouth, yet its body gurgled like blood caught in a throat. That gurgling stopped once a long vertical slit opened across its chest as it opened its eye to flicker a glance over Stiletto.
"I told you, waiting to see what it could become has paid off. Hasn't it darling?" The Doctor said while keeping one hand on the slab, petting it with a sharpened knife. The slow pets etching the blade deeper into its side. The slab made a sound that could only be pain... or pleasure. All Mother knew was that the sound made even her feel unnerved.
The Doctor peeled away the piece of Slab with his fingers, squishing it between his fingers before holding it out towards The Mother. "Here is yours." She glanced towards Stiletto, who gave her a nod that seemed to break her caution. She took the piece of the slab, then started to press it against the forehead of her helm in a way that many Daggerhand's were told to do with their own wooden masks.
***
Sunberth had learned to stay away from the ship. It had learned its lesson from the random bursts of sunlight that gave Mr. Wigglemouth his new mouthful of appendages. However, on this night a cloud of energy erupted from the ship in all directions. Its color a vibrant purple as it passed through the city like a swam of ghosts. Phasing through buildings as it spread throughout the whole of the city. Those who were sleeping would no doubt be forced awake from the chilling cold of the wave. While those who were awake emptied out onto the streets in a panic as to what just happened. Cries of 'Mages!' started to sound through the city.
There was only one violent wave which dissipated once it reached the edges of the city, but its work had been done. Panic, frenzy, and horror. Screaming radiated through the city as people began to fear the worst and run for the mines upon one sudden realization.
Ghosts! Undead? Nuit!
While the first was true, the latter were false. Old Jebediah of the Dust Bed swiftly moved into action as soon as he realized many of his zones had been wiped of their protection. He moved to maintain the biggest threats, but a great deal of lesser ghosts had been freed. A woman ran from the Castle Commons as she saw the ghost of her husband get dragged through the streets with chains pierced through his ghastly face. As she ran, a masked Daggerhand followed behind her unmolested by the spiritual beings. The Daggerhand's started to wash through the Western Heights with murderous intent to take the territory for themselves. Meanwhile, other small groups assaulted the Sun's Refuge territory directly from the shock and awe.
The militant Sun's were caught with their pants down as a gang war hit them from their flank. The Masked Men who wore no gang insignia leading the Sun's into believe the Night Eyes were attacking in the confusion! And just maybe, they were as well?
OOC :