Now that we were effectively persona non grata in Paris and much of the rest of France after the incident with Madam Gallantine, we were to be escorted out of the country. At my suggestion, we decided to south to the Mediterranean Sea. First off this would make it harder to track our movements since we would not be entering Germany the way our enemies anticipated. Second this also allowed me to direct us to a detour in Rome. It was my hope that there we might be able to learn more about the methods and plans of our enemies so that we might better anticipate and prepare for them. And finally it bought us time for my companions to recover from their wounds. That battle with Madam Gallantine had down a number on all of them and it was going to take a while for everyone to heal even with my medical skills assisting in the process.
Flying south in our airship, we took things slow as we continued the shake down process. We were getting reports from the crew that the airship was haunted by at least three ghosts aboard: a cabin boy that kept trying to bring drinks and snacks, someone who kept angrily appearing to people at the helm, and someone snoring or playing the harp incredibly badly. I figure when we finally get to Rome I would pay to have a priest assist these spirits in passing on and that the crew can just deal with it in the meantime since none of the actions were particularly malicious. The superstitious crew just needed to find their bravery and valor in my opinion and quit worrying about trifles.
I spent most of my time working on my notes from the battle with Madam Gallantine, the injuries observed to her and the others, and the methods needed to treat them. It wasn’t long though before we reached the port city of Marseille. There we left the French police escort riding with us before heading out over the Mediterranean Sea. It wasn’t long after we got out to sea though that we ran into problems. The blue water was rushing by below sparkled most attractively in the sun as the engines reverberated through the hull of the airship when all the sudden the pitch of the engines changed, there was a horrible sound of metal grinding on metal and the ship lurched to the right hard.
Rushing to the engine room, we found the place was currently filled with the scent of hot metal and burning oil as smoke rose from the bearing housings. There was a proverbial symphony of howling, badly tuned harp like notes growing louder and giving rise to the impression that it was the music of hell come forth in our engine room. A high shrill scream was coming from the rotor shaft in the engine room, while the pressure relief valve on one of the engines is venting steam to the outside of the airship. Erwan managed to force the clutch to open up, stopping the engine, but that didn’t stop the whole mess. Apparently Victor’s attempts to cover the airship with a faraday type of cage (to protect against lightning he claimed) was causing issues as well as the errant motions of the engines had caused the cabling to vibrate loose. Those cables were now rattling against the outside of the lining of the airship and liable to start wearing through it and cause a leak or worse. Someone had to go outside and securely fasten those cables in place before we could proceed much further or else we would end up in the sea for certain.
Coine volunteered to have a makeshift harness tied to him as he then went outside and dangled from the top of the airship to do some makeshift repairs. That was an interesting experience to watch no less as Coine traipsed from the support struts making repairs with rolls of tape. Finally he was able to get things secured well enough that we were able to land somewhere and attempt more thorough repairs. At the very least we were going to have to reseat that engine block and redo the bearings if not do a complete rebuild. The fact that it looked like we had a storm approaching from the east was not encouraging to say the least. Part of me wondered if someone back in Marseille had given word that we were now over open waters and arranged for more curses to be placed upon us.
We ended up stopping on a nondescript island that looked to be home to a small fishing community that hadn’t changed much since the times of the Romans. The place lacked electricians and most reasonably advanced facilities one would hope to expect when doing airship repairs, but Erwan, Victor, Coine and Matthew all set to work using the tools and parts we had available to make what repairs we could. The place being a very low magic zone didn’t help matters by any means. The isle itself was fairly relaxed though with nice climate, reasonably good fishing, and a little farming to sustain a small community.
Stiil, the others were able to effect repairs and we were off again under our own power and with reasonable control before the storm hit. And with that done, we departed ahead of the storm still and headed west to the Italian peninsula. Outlining my plan to the others to visit the Vatican, the others all quickly assented to the idea and we shifted course to make for Rome. Considering the fact that we were able to reach the shores of Italy without too many more issues suggested that maybe it was just a bad set of bearings and poor engineering on Victor’s part as opposed to more curses from the Gallantines. At the coastline we were stopped by customs who wished to know our business in Italy.
I took the lead with speaking to the man, explaining that I wished to speak with officials at the Vatican regarding some trouble with ancient magical curses and such. The customs official hemmed and hawed back and forth about the difficulties of the paperwork needed to let us enter the country and it took me a few minutes to realize the man was asking for a bribe. I understand that such things tend to be more common in the southern portions of Europe, but I have a hard time accepting the concept of having to pay a man extra to ensure he actually does the job his employer is paying him for. I have no problem with paying tips for services well done, but these so-called “facilitation fees” are an embarrassment to the whole idea of acting with professional integrity.
Simply ignoring the man and trying to bypass him was out of the question since he was a legal representative of the port’s customs agency. And it was going to be difficult to reach the Vatican without going through Italian customs. Well, if the man thinks he has us trapped into either paying the bribe or going home empty handed, then he failed to realize just how determined I could be.
(Terrance) You know, maybe speaking with the Vatican Church may not be the wisest course of action. Perhaps we could bypass Italy altogether and simply go pay the Greek Orthodox Church a visit in Constaninople. I am sure they could get their paperwork filled out in a timely fashion too instead of lamenting the tragedy of it all.
That got the man into a defensive position as he proceeded to expound upon his dislike of the Greeks, the Turks, and the Orthodox religion and how superior he felt Italian civilization was comparatively. Putting on my most disinterested and bored face while not listening very closely, I then made motions for the others to pack up so we could depart again for Constantinople. That finally broke the customs official out of his ranting and got him admitting that he could get the paperwork completed shortly. Thanking him for taking the time out of his busy day to see to getting our papers in order, I then paid the man a small tip after he gave us the paperwork. Perhaps the man will take it as a lesson in doing proper business in the future.
Loading back into the airship, we then continued on to the Vatican. Arriving in Rome, we were able to dock at one of the airfields and rent space for our ship in the meantime while we entered the city. I procured the services of a carriage to take us to the Vatican with a cab driver most surprised to be seeing an englishman speaking fluent Italian. Arriving there after a short tour of Rome, I bypassed the efforts to shunt us into one of queues for either pilgrims or tourists and made it known I wished to speak with someone regarding ancient curses. It took some arguing and repetition with the various officials that kept trying to put me into the groups seeking to get attention for themselves, but eventually I was granted an audience with Cardinal Isadorin.
Cardinal Isadorin at first thought we were attention seekers also, but as I outlined my studies of the curse talismans, the known history we’ve been able to piece together, and then outline our investigation, Cardinal Isadorin came to take us more seriously. Eventually though the Cardinal held up his hand and explained that while we were quite knowledgable on this matter and that our tale was definitely concerning, he wanted a bit of physical evidence before proceeding further. In response to that I grabbed the curse talisman we had brought with us and carefully unsealed it from the containment box we had been storing it in after putting up some additional protections to keep it’s power in check.
That certainly caught the man’s attention.
Isadorin inspected the talisman closely for several minutes and quickly concluded that it was in fact genuine as we claimed and was also of recent manufacture. Again outlining our investigation up to this point and hammering on the probable implications of someone making these in bulk now, we were eventually able to win over the Cardinal to our side. Once he was convinced, we were led deeper into the Vatican complex and down into the catacombs beneath. After a number of twists and turns we ended up in front of a heavy sealed door with a Swiss guard.
Immediately Isadorin requested that the guard open up the door for us to proceed. The guard began to protest that we were obviously adventurers and therefor too dangerous to let in. Considering it not polite to comment on an internal discipline issue, I pretended to not be paying attention as the Cardinal and the guard argued back and forth regarding the virtues of letting us pass. What eventually caught my attention was the guard’s exclamation that he had lost the key to the door and therefor would not be able to let us inside. That sounded like a lie, but why would a guard be lying to a Cardinal of all people? Surely when push came to shove you defer to the judgement of your superiors and not feign excuses for why you can’t comply.
Matthew went forward and attempted to pick the lock. I thought the idea of lock picking in the Vatican to be in poor taste, but with the Cardinal’s permission I figured it was probably alright from an ethical perspective. What caught my eye though was the look of near panic on the guard’s face as he watched the lock picking progress. Why would a guard be so upset to be seeing this? About the only conclusion that would make sense was if the man had been compromised somehow and feared discovery. Tesla’s assertion that the man in fact had the key all along only sealed the issue.
(Guard) Please don’t! They’ll kill him!
Sigh, even in the Vatican in these times it seems….
(Terrance) Then I suggest you speak up and explain if you hope to be able to do something about it.
The Cardinal persuaded the man to come clean of his actions. We found out that a group of people were holding the guard’s son hostage in exchange for being permitted access to the Sealed Wing of the Vatican and the Archives within. Getting a description of the man the guard had been interacting with and sketching it revealed a furtive yet nondescript fellow that none of us recognized immediately. Part of me suspected some magic at work to obscure the man’s features from being recalled clearly, but without more evidence it was entirely possible that the man was simply that plain. We also found out that the secret visits to the archives had been going on for weeks and dated back to around the timeframe that the airship crash occurred.
I, for one, have a hard time believing in simple coincidences.
Still, as important as it was to find out what these people were looking for and why, the fact that a child’s life was on the line because of us demanded action. I took a sample of the man’s blood with the promise to find his son and bring him back to him. Using that blood I should be able to trace a link back to the man’s son and then trace his whereabouts. Explaining my plans to the others, I directed some to stay in case I didn’t come back in time for the next “visit” by the archives secretive patrons while I hunted for the boy. Coine volunteered to go with me and Cardinal Isadorin ordered a pair of Swiss guards trained for this sort of thing to accompany me. Taking a set of priest robes offered by the Vatican to better help hide my identity, we went topside to begin the search.
Once we made it topside I took the vial of blood and cast a spell to trace the link back to the man’s son. Almost immediately I felt a counter spell go up to block my efforts and the strain of overcoming that spell generated a bit of backlash. That ended up slicing my leg open with a flesh wound before I finally broke through and got a lock on the whereabouts of the man’s son. Realizing that whoever cast that blocking spell would know immediately that I had broken through it and thereby knew the whereabouts of the kid, I directed the Swiss guards to get a carriage so we could move with all due haste. In the carriage ride I dressed the wound to my leg and then asked the Swiss guards for a sample of their hair so that I might be able to project healing spells to them at range if need be. They happily complied and were quite impressed to have a doctor along capable of such feats.
I take pride in my position as a Surgeon-Major of the British Army and the skill and professionalism I approach the role with.
Forging quick talismans for the two Swiss guards took the rest of the carriage ride as I continued to give directions to the driver to get us closer to the missing boy. Soon we were in the rural region outside the city amidst the farms. The spell directed us to a particular farmhouse atop a small hill that we were going to pass by. Deciding that simply stopping to get out was going to draw too much attention to ourselves, I elected that we should let the carriage continue and roll out of the sides during an opportune moment. That way unless someone happened to be watching while we vacated the carriage, they would otherwise be none the wiser to our presence even if they knew we were coming.
The opportunity came when we passed a rather large tree. I threw open the door and rolled out onto the road as Coine and the two Swiss guards did the same. Moving up to hide behind the stone fence, we peeked over the top to survey the land and the probable field of battle. I saw two men playing guard, another one loading a cart with something from inside the farmhouse, another man giving useless orders in german to the cart loader, and perhaps another man inside the farmhouse although it was hard to be certain from this angle. Interestingly, the man loading the cart was fairly nondescript and more or less matched the vague description I used to make my sketch. The man was certainly furtive looking enough. The fact that the the man playing at being a supervisor was ordering people around in German reinforced the idea that this was more than a coincidence in my mind. This was more than just an attempt to sabotage a few government agencies.
I directed Coine to do what he could to ensure that cart would not be able to make an escape if fighting did start while the Swiss guards and I tried to move closer to the house unseen. If we could move to a point where we could separate those in the house from those outside with suppression fire, we stood a chance of keeping the enemy separate and unable to organize well enough to repel us. As we got closer to the house, I saw there were in fact four children in the house bound and gagged: the guard’s son, two farm kids, and a fourth that I couldn’t readily identity. There was also another man in the house holding a knife and chanting something hard to make out at this distance. Given what I saw back in Paris and in the North Sea, that certainly did not sit well with me.
As it looked like the man loading the cart was approaching completion of his task, the man chanting took the knife and started moving towards the children with a stance that gave no illusions as to his intentions as he began what I could only assume was some dark ritual sacrifice. As much as I would have liked to have gotten closer to the house, my promise to return the guard’s son took priority in this case as I took my pistol from my shoulder holster, aimed at the man’s head through the window, and fired. That neatly nicked him on the neck and caused a wound that was going to bleed out without medical treatment. That also stopped his attempt to sacrifice the children for the moment. The Swiss guards with me opened fire as well and I heard Coine do the same on the other side of the farm house.
So we entered the fog of battle where it becomes difficult to discern what is happening at any given moment and all one can rely on is training, skill, and discipline to power through the chaos. After a quick exchange of gunfire back and forth it looked like the defenders were all injured, dying, or incapacitated. Taking the opportunity to get a longer and more thorough look over my cover, I saw that the ritualist from earlier was now floating in the air as the dark green and black energies from whatever he had been attempting to accomplish were now running wild inside the farmhouse. While instinct told me that I had to run, I pushed such thoughts aside as I leapt the fence and ran into the farm house. The Swiss guards followed behind me as we ran in, grabbed the children, and then ran as far from the farm house as we could before the ritual completely backfired upon itself.
Finally turning to look back at the scene, I saw that the farmhouse and hill had been replaced with a crater. No sign of any explosion and no debris thrown outwards as one would expect either. It was as if the whole section of the landscape was simply carved out and moved elsewhere. Supporting this supposition was the remains of the supervisor. He was still alive, although not for along as he was missing the left half of his body. It looked like he had simply been cleaved in two with an unbelievably sharp implement of some sort. As much as my duties as a doctor demanded I do what I can for the wounded, there simply wasn’t anything I could do for this one except to ease his suffering. As a prepared a spell to put the man to sleep one last time, Coine fired a shot into the man’s skull (or what remained of it) and killed him.
Messy, but direct I suppose.
The ritualist, one guard, and half the supervisor were still missing, but we found the other guard lying wounded in a nearby field. Attempts to use magic to trace where the other half of the supervisor had gone simply came back with the spell saying the target was out of range. Considering these links should work across the world with only decreased definition, that suggested a number of disturbing things regarding what the ritualist was up to in there. I had heard rumors and speculations regarding summonings back in school, but had thought them the province of myth and legend as opposed to actual fact. However an inadvertent reverse summoning was the prime explanation I could think of that could fit with all the details we knew thus far. But what, or who, the the ritualist had been trying to summon was now becoming a question near the top of the priority list given who I suspected it would make a lot of these other mysteries make sense.
With the children, a captured guard, and a cart full of presumably stolen goods in tow, we began to make our way back to the Vatican where hopefully the others may have some answers.
