Preparing for the End

We’re back at the hotel; the «gift» is with us. Melua and the priest are there as well. The two nobles exchange pleasantries, or whatever they call it. She tells us a bit more about what happened to her crew. They took down some Beast House members and by that discovered that her brother was here in Xicarph. She is aware of the lunatic Pilgrims; actually she is the noble lady we heard was asking around for the White Scholar. She got on his track because the Beast House was looking for him.

Then you have the priest. I guess he still is ‘though he lost his congregation. You know, to the Heron-masked they call the Beloved.

The gift and our mission get a pretty cold welcome. Holder-Smith gets all riled up about it. Like, what the fuck were we supposed to do? You go talk to that spider-machine-woman-xeno-thing, and get us a better deal. And yeah, watch the time while you’re at it. Mallear gives Holder-Smith an hour to check out some background on the Spider Bride, while we look into the mobsters. By we I mean, myself, Mallear, Dar and Melua. Our plan is basically to try to get some info on our hit.

Walking down one of the main streets minding our own business, suddenly the calm is pierced by screams. By the sound of them it’s a case of life or death. Sho nuff, a great big entity of some sort is coming. It’s hard to tell where it begins and ends, but its impact is instantly seen in guts spilling from the individuals who strife in its path. A movement from atop one of the building catches my eye, and whadd’ya know if it isn’t a Heron-masked figure. As if by its signal, his flock of herons appears, joined by a horde of demons. They engage with the monstrosity. My mind boggles, they’re trying to kill it? The hellish entity continues relentlessly. Shifting and changing, like a storm rolling inevitably towards its destination. For a second we are stood motionless, until survival instincts kick in and we realize that, shit, that friggin destination seems to be us. We grab Melua and jet into a side alley. We are still considering our options when suddenly quiet sets in again. What the hell? We double back along a parallel street to check it out.

It’s an outright massacre. Bodies are strewn everywhere, entrails hanging out from its owner or draped on door handles, benches and the remains of flower beds. Like the work of a chaos worshipping artist. Civilians, heron-masked, demons too, are among the casualties. The monster is nowhere to be seen. The guards of the noble houses have taken to the streets, patrolling. The Widower truly is alive.

Mallear decides it’s time to tell Melua about her “heritage”, as we head back to the data crypt to join the rest. She knows she is a descendant of Haarlock.

Meanwhile, things have been calmer in the crypt. The brainiacs have discovered that the Spider Bride was Gabriel Haarlock’s fancy. He was the last Governor her in Xicarph, they remind us. She has concubines, a gift from Haarlock. He must have been very fond of his Spider lady as these things are fast, shape shifting xenos – with venom.

Good to know.

Holder-Smith and the Lady stay in the crypt; Holder-Smith will try to find some more info about our new friend, the Widower. The Lady, well let’s just face it, is a major liability, so she can stay put as well.

Heading to the scene of the crime again, we chat to the guards. They suggest that the Pits will be more fruitful for the type of info we’re craving. We find the local tattle-tale and he can tell us that Papa Grist came to Xicarph about 2 or 3 months ago. He saw the opportunity to make money out of the grand conjuction. He deals in xeno stuff –referred to as The Cold Trade.

On we go to the Fate’s Wheel to find Mr. Grist. It’s a pit gambler’s dream. Pit fights on every screen, small private tables, and ample liquor stock. The VIP is a flight of stairs and a few gold away. Heading up there, we spot Papa Grist in the back. The rest of the clientele look like nobles, or rich traders. We walk over to him and say that we have some cold goods for sale. Grist has an unsanctioned psyker with him. This individual checks out our parcel, and whispers something in his master’s ear. We decide on a price of 3000G.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. And I have seen a few things in my life. As Papa Grist opens the lid on the Spider Bride’s gift, something immediately shoots out and latches on to his face.  Before my jaw has had chance to drop, it slits his throat. And dropped. Needless to say, we have a battle on our hands. Potter does is scary thing, which frankly I still don’t know whether is most effective on us or them. Damn him. I find myself in a bit of a tight spot at one point, and Mallear saves my ass. The psyker is actually spooked by Potter for a while, which helps somewhat. And we manage to take control of the situation. There are still about 50 nobles and guards on the floor. They part to make way as Potter grabs Papa Grist’s head and floats up and towards the exit. I pray the Emperor sees light in our dark, dark ways, but I fear my soul is eternally doomed if not before, then certainly now. I see no way past killing – kill or be killed, it’s the story of my life. Laz holsters his weapons and declare to our witnesses that we have no beef with them. They say nothing and let us pass.

Back at the crypt, Holder-Smith informs us that the Widower was the assassin for the first Haarlock who governed Xicarph. A one-man army. Nothing can stop it, no door can hold it. He’s not human (no, really?), he is a being from outer space bound to service, bound to Xicarph. Its true appearance is not known, it has changed over the years. He is vulnerable at one time only, under the Revel of Darkness at the Grand Conjunction. Haarlock blood can set him free. He appears in his true form and stalks the streets for the old blood. This is the first time in 500 years the Widower has been seen, and it had thus died down to a legend until this very day.

Finally we are getting paid for our vile deeds before. The Spider Bride, the oracle. As we enter her cave yet again, I notice just how many of those xeno-mech-spider-assassin thingies she really has. – it is unnerving to say the least. As we approach her with the head of the thug formerly known as Papa Grist, the particular xeno attached to his lifeless skull detaches and skitters towards his mistress. It crawls on to her lap, and she strokes it lovingly. Like I’ve been told mothers do.

The Spider Bride is bound to this very place. She claims there is no redemption for her. She is xeno, linked to this mechanical web, but she was human once. She refers to herself as The One Who Serves. She tells us there are many scions of Haarlock. Their blood is needed by Haarlock’s servants to perform rituals. We learn that the Heron-masked and Jackal-masked had a deal: a list of names for exciting xenos for the pits. She also discloses that this Grand Conjunction is special. The clock will align perfectly this time, at the end of the Revel of Darkness. If we can’t interfere, this world will die and all of us with it.