B.T.V. -- Session 14 Epilogue: A Bit of Violence

Let’s All Go on an (Interdimensional) Sea Cruise






On the third-deck lounge of the Troubadour, Scappin, a master of an assassin’s guild based in Karrion, had appeared out what was known to them as the Lethal Logo, a stylized “A”, derived from Absolom, the founder. The same symbol appears on the belts of most members. Sybermane, Benedict, Cabillion, Handfist, Axewing and Ecclesia, an acolyte of the organization, greet him, though mostly with level stares. Scappin stares at Handfist, who is unaffected by this. The newcomer seems to be trying to put off Handfist, but obviously he was not familiar with the King of the Dwarfs. Eventually, Scappin looks away.


“I’ll go check on the Girl,” Handfist, who obviously had been aware all along, announces, and he headed off to do so. “Just leave you to chat it out amongst yourselves.”


Apart from Sybermane, only men, and specifically human men, are present, and Scappin eyes the Equinn.


“What manner of creature are you?”


“I’m a Master of the Khrescent.”


“What is the Khrescent? It sounds as if it’s an organization.”


“I’m the only representative on this world, if it makes you feel better.”


“Oh, I couldn’t feel any better.,, You will be increasing your number, then.”


“That’s not for me to decide.”


“Then who does?”


“He’s a guy named none of your fucking business.”


“I’ll suppose I’ll have to allow that, since you don’t know who I am. Our organization is known as the Lethal. You’ll know us by our symbol. My time is short. Power expenditure is high.” Scappin looks meaningfully as Ecclesia.


“These wish to meet with the Tai-pan,” she tell him.


“Who asks to meet with the Taipan.”


“I have only recently been healed. I am not sure.”


Benedict intervened at that point.


“We all wish to meet with him on varying matters of varying importance. Some of us might have met the Tai-pan before, should it ease your decision making.”


“It does not. Are you claiming to know him?”

“I certainly know him.”


Scappin steps into the logo and disappears. The symbol slowly recedes.














The Tai-pan is informed by Scappin that the journeyman Ecclesia had reported that a Lethal had been killed and his cloak used by a Bit using the name Thaddeus during an assassination. Tai-pan agrees to go to meet the others, since Benedict’s name was mentioned, and uses his Black Key to do so. Masters of his organization have the ability to paint such a picture with words of a site that the Tai-pan can use his key to reach it, and the Troubadour, part of the Playships, is a very distinctive place.














When he appears, he is wearing the uniform of a Lethal, not that of the Consummate of his guild. He is garbed in black, with elements of purple, and his arms are outstretched, displaying daggers connected to his wrists, in the greeting of the guild. He used his blind sense to scan for hidden or invisible creatures in the lounge, but finds none.


Ecclesia greets him in kind, her arms outstretched as well. Benedict clicks his heels together. Cabillion stares at the newcomer. Cabillion is dressed in Draegeran style, with a single pauldron, and a cape over just one shoulder. Around his neck is a platinum chain, so he makes no effort to conceal his wealth. He has what appears to be a ceremonial stiletto under the pauldron, and it appears capable of being thrown. Otherwise, he has no reek of magic.


Nor does Benedict, who seems to carry only serviceable weapon, though his one arm is not what it appears to be.


And then there are Sybermane and Axewing.


Sybermane sends the Tai-pan a casual wave, giving the Equinn the appearance of a boob or someone who is very confident indeed. The Tai-pan also senses something of Shadow about him.


“Well, this is quite the gathering, Prince Benedict, Axewing, Sybermane,” the Tai-pan says, adding, glancing at Axewing, “You can consider the gift repaid… Well. Adhrilanka. I can assume this has something to do with the succession of the next dragon emperor.”


“Or the possibility it might not occur at all,” Benedict counters. “We might as well sit at a table. I think we leave wine off the menu, because we don’t know if all the bottles have been checked. I find it hard to believe the serving girl was involved, given her alliance. There was an attempt made on Elric’s life.”


The Tai-pan sits, Ecclesia behind him, while Cabillion stands behind Axewing. Sybermane picks up a winged club chair, earlier occupied by Shadowjack, and finds it surprising heavy, perhaps 200 pounds. He puts it down next to the table the others are around, and sprawls in it. Benedict remains on his feet.


“To bring you up to speed, Taipan, I believe there was a gathering for which Axewing and his companions came here. Was it important or just chance?”


“More chance I suppose than anything,” Axewing answers.


“You were investigating and looking into the matter of…”


“The ship. Returning the Girl. We wanted to make sure the atmosphere was proper.”


“Salubrious,” Cabillion adds with a smile.


Tai-pan asks, “This Girl…she is of some importance?”


Benedict notes, “Handfist, the Dwarf, has gone to look for her welfare, to see she has whatever she needs.”


“Was there a connection with that and the assassination attempt?”


Benedict continues, “The party came here to make sure she would be safe. She is not human nor she is Draegeran, but a combination of both. She is not sure of who her parents are. She was taken from them. I would be leaning toward the positive, that it might be important. I believe the ‘Ships were still being decided on. They have been landlocked for many decades, and built and added to, to create a town within a village. In any event, they were sitting discussing weighing up and so on.”


“And Prince Elric was here at the time?”


“No. He joined them. That was when it went from worse to worse.”


“Why would he come here? For entertainment?”


“There is a minstrel, maybe deserving of the title of Bard…,” Benedict begins, then snaps his fingers at the table.


“The Black Orphan,” Sybermane supplies, though he doubts Benedict in fact forgot the name.


“So he was here to see a famous minstrel?” Tai-pan asks.


“Yes,” Ben confirms, starting to stride back and forth behind his chair, his arms crossed behind his back. “Drinks were ordered. I think that is important to note. As I mentioned earlier, wine was on the list of things being asked for and brought by a serving person.”


“Livette,” Cabillion says, smiling at Tai-pan, knowing the stranger would probably find him odd and milking that for what it is worth.


“A male or female?” Benedict inquires.


“Very much a female, and quite interested in our Epitome,” Cabillion responds.


“Am I to assume there was something in the wine?” Tai-pan asks.


“An excellent perception, but not necessary in the end,” Benedict states. “You are perceptive as usual considering these matters. Unbeknownst to the group, among the many drinks, including Oishka in a red-stoppered bottle I managed to find on the floor earlier, though the wine bottle has escaped my attention. That is why I have told you not to drink any wine. We come to the point where things have occurred. Elric arrived with two or three men at arms.”


“Two,” Cabillion clarifies.


“He made his way over to the table, and mentions, I imagine, being here to see the Black Orphan. Shortly thereafter, things begin to occur.”


“I think it’s quite accurate so far, Benedict. I commend you,” Cabillion compliments him.

Benedict stares at the assassin for a moment before continuing.


“An individual approaches behind Elric’s chair. He is dressed as a Jongleur, except on top of his clothing, of which minstrels wear a variety of adornment, he wears a particular cloak of the Lethal.”


Tai-pan glances at Ecclesia, who nods in confirmation.


“I was here with Vassiter,” she adds.


“You’re saying the cloak the assassin had was Vassiter’s?”


“That’s what they told me, Tai-pan.”


“We will come to the cloak, and its lack of presence here,” Benedict interjects.


Tai-pan says, “At least now I understand why I’ve been asked to come.”


“It went from worse to worse,” Benedict continues. “The individual garbed as one of the Lethal, wearing a Jongleur’s mask, passed behind Elric’s chair and drew blade from some concealment, and stabbed at least once the bodyguard nearest Elric. It’s my understanding he fell immediately stone dead.”


Cabillion nods.


“The bodyguard was obviously the first target, but the true target was Elric, as the…Jongleur let us call him, then moved to kill him. The blade is one known as Morganti. I imagine you have been in Axil long enough to recognize the seriousness of this. This was not a threat or a warning. As I understand it, when an assassin uses a regular blade, it is in the nature of a warning, since the dead can be revivified here. So this being Morganti was a true attempt on his life. The swing began. He did not say anything to the very crowded room, simply a strike to kill. However, Asher Zi…”


“Actually, I am aware of him,” Tai-pan interrupts.


“We have not mentioned him so far,” Ben allows. “He is the only one who had the perception to try and assist the prince.”


“It is true,” Axewing confesses. “It is certainly a failing I will castigate myself over for some time.”


“None of us noticed,” Cabillion comforts Axewing. “Even Jack of Shadows was not able to react soon enough.”


Benedict takes over again. “You, we know are a gifted assassin, and even you did not move in time. Asher was able to make a difference. He threw his weapon of choice, some throwing implements, and struck with two of the three sufficiently strongly to kill the fellow outright. Unfortunately the blade didn’t drop harmlessly to the floor. He made certain the blade did not strike home, and I expect that is what he wanted. Instead, the blade flew in the direction of Axewing, and more importantly the Girl.”


“What do you mean, more importantly?” Axewing demands.


Benedict answers, “As was revealed to you later at the altar. Asher was able to throw himself toward the blade but could not catch if for some reason. Rather, he attempted from what we can tell only to interpose himself. Fortunately, he was able to do so.”


“But is he dead?” Tai-pan asked.


“Morganti plays no favourites,” Benedict replies. “What followed is, Axewing here, not wishing to allow Morganti to win, took it upon himself to implore others of greater power to intercede. In the course of this effort, which was unfortunately not possible, Sybermane here was brought forth from beyond the world. Here, in the Playships, the body of the assassin lay for those who were left behind to determine a cause. It’s my understanding there were several people involved. The Prince and his special tactics group, the STG, were brought forward almost immediately, probably by teleport since they were on the scene so quick. We must keep that ability in mind. I must.”


“Let us remember where that comes from, or may,” Tai-pan advises.


“Yes. Of course. They began their investigation.”


Meanwhile, Benedict said, the party of Sybermane and Axewing, along with the body of Zi, returned to the scene to deal with the ceremony that must follow the death of the last, and to begin their own investigation.


“We now have two investigations running in parallel. It is my understanding they were able to discover some elements of the assassin.”


”I was going to ask, where is the body?” Tai-pan asked.


“I will come to that shortly. I had my theories and kept those to myself. Sreigorn took a portion of the party off on one course, others another. We come now to the most important part, the discovery of the assassin’s real identity. Several Imperial officials were here. One determined the time had come to remove the assassin’s mask, even though it could have had an entrapment laid on it. Foolhardy or less caring, or perhaps because he was so arrogant, he removed the mask and revealed the assassin was one of the Bit.”


“The Bit?” Tai-pan exclaims. “Are we speaking of the same, that existed Without?”


”It would seem likely. This is both a terrible piece of news, and something that must be added to considerations going forward.”


“You understand they work in pairs. Where is the other?”


“I understood from the Stig this one was using the name Thaddeus, and the other Kawdicus. These names are of a certain time and place. Kawdicus we know is the secondary. The Bit move in a certain pattern, always. A primary and a failsafe.”


“They are connected,” Tai-pan elaborates. “I have dealt with the Bit before. From history, the Bit, the two, are quite tied to the other. The one will not survive long without the other. It’s the way they are designed. Where is the body? Where is the Bit’s form?”


“It was removed by another. A Bit arrived here, claiming the body for his own. He had two elements about him that were interesting. One was the bearing of leadership, and two, a device of technological original powered by the light of this world, this so-called ghostlight.”


“So he stole the body?”


“No. He threated to destroy the city and all within it. It was impossible to kill him.”


“How was it impossible to kill him?”


“You are debating with me,” Benedict chides.


“Certainly you would not give him the body just for saying he would destroy the city. Tell me, did you at least get our cloak.”


“The cloak, it remains behind. The body is of little importance.”


“They usually claim the body,” Tai-pan allows.


“He did not act as if he recognized me,” Benedict says in his own defence. “If I had determined he was killable, he would be with us.”


“There is something I’m missing here,” Tai-pan stated. “If I were a suspicious fellow, well, I would suggest that there is perhaps something else in play, and if you don’t wish to reveal it, that’s fine with me. How long in time was there between the assassination and the time this Bit appeared?”


“Several hours. It’s certainly possible this one who came is Kawdicus. I would not exclude the possibility. We will need to have a private conversation, you and I, when we decide we have satisfied you.”



“Should I illuminate the others on the Bit? For those of you who do not know, the Bit were originally created to destroy the agents of the Mule. Not only did they fail, but they turned. The complication with the Bit is they seem to exist in a flux of some kind. Normally the Bit are invisible. It is a result of this phasing. They become visible when they strike. The only forewarning you usually have is the sound of their phased existence. You would have to be damned lucky to hear them. To actually destroy them, you have to find their base. But there’s a greater problem related to the Bit. They were constructed to destroy the Mule’s agents. There was one in particular, his mark they bore, The Master. His name is Jared Ghostley. And this is not confirmed yet. From what I was told, this Jared Ghostley was a Doctor, fallen and corrupted by the Mule, using his talents to make the Bit what they are. If he is here, he will complicate things enormously. You perhaps put something on him?”


“It sounds rather technological, but I am aware of your travels taking you such places,” Benedict answers. “I have never met a sorcerer who has developed such things.”


“So then you didn’t place one on him?”


“I have an idea,” Sybermane interrupts. “I don’t have them often, but I’d appreciate it if you’d listen. I looked at the body of the dead assassin through the Astral plane, and found it inhabited by a large number of small creatures. They turned out to be worm-like.”


Benedict says, “It should not escape our attention the astral plane very much a thing of the Outremer.”


Axewing points out, “There is a group that exists that was stolen from us. A group that exists as other groups exist for other races. The Shrouds. Yes. They have been taken by the Jenoine or so I was told. So if they have been taken and perhaps corrupted, these might be connected to the Bit?”


The Tai-pan replies, “So what we know is the Bit might be composed of these worms which are associated to the Astra. So what we knew of them, they might not function in exactly the same way. But if we could follow this tether, it would be a great accomplishment to find them.”


Sybermane, completing his idea, says he believes the worms might be the reason that the Bit can phase in and out of reality at will.


“The mechanics, perhaps,” Tai-pan says, but then immediately changes the course of the conversation. “What I worry about is the association with this Master. If it would be possible to speak with a Doctor, they should know something of one of their fallen kind. The problem is whether he is here or not.”


“I am not privy to the doctors, being a Principal of Amber,” Benedict notes. “That is not something I can call upon. My association with Time is of a higher order.”


Axewing offers, “I’m told I can contact them if I need to, and my place with the Obsidian allows me to summon them. It’s what I was told.”


“Then that is perhaps a wise course, before we do anything else,” Tai-pan suggests. “Before that, though, I will explain what I was going to explain. The Doctors from my experience can be difficult to puzzle through what they tell you.”


“Axewing, do you know many of the doctors?” Benedict inquires.


“I know only two.”


“They are many more. View them as you would ourselves. You would not call upon Asurbanipal to attack a fortress. He would not be the best choice. And you would not call on me for sorcery.”


“So you are suggesting I must seek the correct Doctor in dealing with this fallen Doctor. I only know of Fate and Doom.”


“I do not think these are the one you seek.”


“Yes, I think now there is one who would be appropriate.”


Benedict appears pleased. “There is if you will a nicety of timing which must be observed in these matters. Is now an appropriate time? The sequence of events can be important. More an aspect of you than my Principality. Obsidian has far more to do with niceties of times and sequences of occurrences.”


Axewing says, “Perhaps it would be best that that particular conversation, as it has such importance to us all, is best left for when the Obsidian are more complete. If we are going to act as Principals….”


Benedict counters, “If you would permit me a rare glimpse of my nature to you all, I do not do these things unnecessarily. The events of course are beyond my control. The Tai-pan being here and you being here and of course our latest addition,” Sybermane chooses that moment to wave jauntily, “These are things I have constructed it is fair to say but I do not control them. I have conjured this through availing myself of powers much greater than any of us here. I think as I said the time is near, whether it is immediately, or shortly from this point forward. So surely before the night is through you should try to strike upon this iron. It is a clever thing you have considered, Sybermane, Tai-pan, and this has changed matters to a degree. And as you say, there must be a consideration of those others of your Principality. You should be able to contact this sailor.”


Axewing speaks up. “Yes. Asurbanipal. And Shadowjack as well I assume is not far.”


Benedict looks sardonically around the room. “I am certain he is not far away.”


Sybermane, meanwhile, asks about Dantalion and Asmodeus, the two other members of the Obsidian.


“I have some knowledge,” Axewing states.


Benedict observes, “Unfortunately for all of us, Sybermane’s time on Axildusk prior to our arrival was cut short.”


Axewing says he had been told about Asmodeus that his Obsidian relic is the Stylus of Binding, and thought in his meagre way this figure could be found in a library of some eminence.


“I have a different idea for Dantalion. As you are Benedict, it is fair enough as I say it with you here, as you know I am of the Obsidian and connected to Taiphon, and connected to him since the time of the Phoenix and Horus. It is perhaps the reason why I am here now and I bear the cuirass as I do now. But I know also, Dantalion, as I recall, is associated with a Blade. And I was also told about the specific items that were associated with the Obsidian.”


He spoke then of the runeblade Nul, which is connected in some way to Taiphon, and had been borne by the Steel General, who had been slain by his Syphon.


“Perhaps Nul is to become Dantalion’s weapon. My thought was, as I found opportunity and courage enough, I would attempt to communicate with Nul and have it teleport me to where Dantalion is, and Blade might come with me. That is perhaps a foolish thought.”


Sybermane says, “I can tell you the name of the item is the Blade of Causes.”


Axewing asks Benedict for his opinion on finding the two last Obsidian.


“This is not my Principality,” the Amberite responds.


“My opinion would be…,” Tai-pan begins, but Benedict cuts him off.


“You are a man,” the latter tells Axewing.


Tai-pan resumes, saying the remaining Obsidian could go off on their own tangents at any time. “The way the cookie crumbles. Now is the moment to grasp what you can. If it means anything, I would suggest you gather the four.”


Then he asks Sybermane, “Do you know more about this? Could this blade be Nul, or do we assume it is something else.”


“No idea,” Sybermane admits frankly.


“Do you know anything about the Stylus of Binding?”


“No. For some reason I didn’t even want to ask about it.”


Axewing pronounces, “It seems appropriate timing, and we must have all the Obsidian here. I must determine which of these two we will seek immediately. Has anyone here approached Nul?”


“I have seen it,” Ecclesia admits.


“I think though if I take that course, I might end up doing so,” Axewing stated, a little cryptically.


“If time is of the essence and time is important to us, that will be my course. That is at least known to me. I will leave Asmodeus to the last. I suppose then I should be about the act immediately.”


He then departs.


“Don’t bother asking my opinion or anything,” Sybermane mock-grumbles as Axewing leaves. No one laughs.


Leaving the Troubadour, Axewing calls Defiant, and flies off toward Asurbanipal’s great flagship, the Silhouette.

















Tai-pan, meanwhile, continues the conversation below. “The other things as we got on to the Master and Bit and such. There is or was a race I believe servile to Cthulu, which I believe is another name for Darkness. The race was called the Illithyd. I believe they are now called the Shelled or Splintered Shells, though I have not yet found one. Their bodies are I believe composed of splinters. They gather them and use them to some Dark end. They are also somehow associated with this Master. If he is indeed a fallen Doctor, he may be involved in many things, though none of them good.


“Before coming to Axildusk, a companion of mine was slain by something called the Wild Hunt. If the Hunt is here, it is likely to prove hard for many. Another individual associated with this Hunt is referred to, I learned within the Canticle, as ‘D’. And he was a Spire.

“He is also associated with these groupings. Many of these associations I had only begun to unravel. I am left mostly with pieces, rather than a useful understanding. But it could be an association that has made its way here. I do not know if any of you are aware, there is a necromancer known as Strayhorn, mentioned to me by a Doctor. I arranged a meeting with him. He is a Spire as well, yet native to Axildusk. From what I have learned of him, he has an association with time as well.”


Sybermane noted, “Strayhorn is in Adhrilanka, here as a shopkeeper. And he was here earlier tonight.”


“What did he divulge?” Tai-pan asked.


Sybermane explained the information Strayhorn had offered in terms of the creatures inhabiting the slain Bit, and that Sreigorn and Strayhorn were now absent after conducting their search for the worms that had fled the Playships.


“That is certainly a course we should investigate, in case it is leading somewhere. I had at one point…I do not know if you are aware of my own history, but I have some knowledge of the Profane. I did not think, well, I was not aware that they were at play in Axildusk, but apparently that might not be the case. Such is not necessarily good or ill toward our cause. I believe the Queen of Chaos would no doubt be allied to our cause, and Pandemonia would be opposed to it. I still hope for alliance with Thale.

“And one final thought. I had thought a time ago, actually, Sybermane, the reason I visited you so long ago as it seems now, I was seeking to create an alternative to the Array and the wider array, being somewhat skeptical of the power of colour as it existed there. I was unsuccessful at the time, but given our current circumstances, it seems fitting where such an idea might fit our current interests, the Cauldron, a council of sort for allied interests. Perhaps we could agree that this Cauldron of Alliance might be something we could use to occasionally discuss the war and matters as it relates in importance to us.”


“It sounds fine to me,” Benedict offers.


“I see no objection to it,” Sybermane answers. “I’m sure I will think of one later.”


Tai-pan asks if Sreigorn can be contacted, and Sybermane suggests Cabillion do so, knowing the Ranger King much better than the Equinn did.


Benedict and Tai-pan point out that Sybermane is an Outremer and an Obsidian, which Sybermane doesn’t really understand, and that will give him more likelihood to be able to contact Sreigorn.


“There will come a time and place when you are of a mind to do so with much urgency,” Benedict explains. “These things will be done then without choice.”


Sybermane seeks advice from others on how to reach out with his mind to another.


“I believe you need to concentrate on the individual, like you’re shouting at him without your mouth,” Cabillion advises. “He’s likely only across the river.”


Sybermane closes his eyes in order to focus, and with his mind calls out, “Sreigorn,” feeling slightly foolish in doing so. But he feels a tingling from his mane, as if it is standing on end, and sees a spot of faint blue mist in the distance. He focuses on it, and it becomes moonlight. He calls out Sreigorn’s name again, and feels someone looking through the mist at him, as if through several gauzy blue curtains. He parts the curtains, which seem to billow away, and he sees Sreigorn standing before him, looking around as if trying to find something, and then finally glancing toward Sybermane.


“Oh,” Sreigorn says. “It’s you?”


“Are you well?”


“Yes. What is the meaning of this?


“You don’t know either?” Sybermane asks disappointedly. He had hoped Sreigorn had more experience with such contacts, but the Ranger King seems equally puzzled. He kneels and feels the ground beneath him. It seems to give under his touch, and Sybermane follows suit, finding the surface spongy in ways.


Sreigorn, looking up, asks, “Should I be alarmed?” He pulls out his broadsword. “Perhaps these sheets of webbing are hiding others!”


“I don’t think so. I serve Khons, the God of Moonlight, and this is the stuff of Moonlight.”


“He will have little power in Axildusk, then.”


“I am his power in Axildusk.”


“My understanding is, the moon of Axildusk is known as the Eye, but it only comes once a month. Though I suppose once a month, given the origin of the word, means enough. But you are elsewhere. Is this a place in Outremer?”

] Sybermane admits his ignorance.


Sreigorn says, as if in explanation, “I am used to nature, if you will, but I am no sorcerer of Nature. I simply enjoy living in it. And not so much cities. This seems most unnatural to me. Why have you come here? Have you brought me here? Then why?”


Sybermane explains he is concerned that he has not seen Sreigorn in some time, after they had become separated.


“I returned to the ship. I look after the girl. I don’t object to this. It allows me to ignore the Dwarf’s comments. He is with me as well.”


Sybermane offers to break contact, but asks for and receives a token from Sreigorn, his dagger, to see if it will be with the Equinn when he emerges from the contact.


It is not.


Back in the Troubadour lounge, Benedict says, “We need to be as sure of ourselves as we can. I am pleased you had some kind of success.”


Sybermane says he will go to the Girl’s room, to ensure that Sreigorn is still there after the strange contact.


“I will come with you,” Cabillion offers. “I should probably acquaint myself with this Girl. It might pass that I must be her bodyguard. The cat…it must feed at some point.”


“What cat?” Sybermane inquires.


“Sana. The cat. Her nature isn’t very well understood, any more than yours is.”


They leave the lounge and make their way to the Carousel, the other of the Playships, toward the cabin the Girl has taken sanctuary in, and where Asher Zi’s body has been placed for safekeeping.

















Axewing lands on the Silhouette, several sailors stopping in their duties to look over Defiant. Asking where to find Asurbanipal, Axewing is pointed toward the stern. The walk there, on the gigantic ship, is more than a stroll, but he finds the captain’s quarters. He encounters many individuals along the way, and the Silhouette seems to make up a thriving community. Perhaps a quarter of the crew is female, but it is both men and women who stop and watch as he goes by.


Axewing finds a burly Draegeran outside the captain’s quarters.


“Is the captain in?”


“I’ll see if he’s available?”


He opens the door, and Asurbanipal is sitting, his feet on a desk.


“Come in,” he calls. “What brings you to the ship?”


“News. Asher Zi is dead.”


The smile freezes on the captain’s face. “The green fellow. Yes?”


Axewing explains the circumstances, with Asher’s actions saving first Elric and then the Girl.


“What does this mean for our purposes?”


“We’ll have to consider these things. It might very well be his inspiration to humanity and the races suffice with just such an act.”


Axewing confides he planned to ingrain an understanding of Asher and the history of humanity into Kashmir, who is the Girl. “And she might become a little bit of what was lost. I think she will become something of it anyway.” Axewing related that a gathering had been conducted, and Benedict had been present, along the others including Tai-pan.


“The assassin was something called a Bit. I don’t know if you knew the term. I did not until this day.”


“I’ve had several encounters,” Asurbanipal allowed. “When I brought the Profane from the second realm they fell upon us. It was a dodgy time for the crew, but they performed well. I recruited several Profane crewmen.”


“Things seem to be moving forward quickly. This Bit used a uniform belonging to the Tai-pan. Apparently it was some scheme of theirs to kill Elric and blame the Taipan. Fortunately, Asher saved us from this deed. But other things have come up in the conversation.”


He starts to describe his encounter with Taiphon following Zi’s death, but Asurbanipal cuts him short.


“You are a friend of mine. What is it you need?”


“As Obsidians we have some standings. As Obsidian, we are part of the Outremer, and the Doctors….”


“Why are you explaining? We are brothers.”


“We need to gather the Obsidian.”


“And you need my ship to gather them.”


“We will have to bring the others to us.”


“Bring the others? The other Obsidian? It is nothing to do with the ship then? What would be easier, bringing them to us or bringing the ship to them?”


“Perhaps since you have the Wheel of Destiny….”


“I will have to take the helm myself.”




















Axewing follows the captain up to an enclosed steerage cabin, quite unusual for a ship of its style.


“It is an all-weather and whether-all cabin. We do not just get beset by average storms, from time to time,” Asurbanipal explains.


At the wheel, Axewing sees a buxom woman, dressed in pirate style, a hook in place of her right hand, a patch on her right eye and a sword at her hip.


“If you don’t mind, I will take the wheel,” Asurbanipal tells her.


“Why would I mind?” she replies saucily, as she relinquishes the wheel.


Asurbanipal asks, “Well, Axewing, who should we gather first?”


“Let’s be daring. Let’s gather Shadowjack.”


“Very well.” The captain spins the wheel, and shadow emerges from between its spindles, whirling about. At the hub, the shadow deepens into a well of sorts, and they see a face, which resolves itself into Jack.


“Asurbanipal? What is the meaning of this?”


“Forgive my intrusion.”


“I suppose that would be a word for it. This is some sort of device, a portal with a circular frame?”


“It is the wheel,” Asurbanipal explains.


“That accounts for the rotation I see in it.”


“You see a rotation? I suppose that would prove it is a wheel.’


“It feels very much as I could come through it. Is that what’s its purpose is?


“I don’t believe so. Simply a happy side-effect.”


Axewing asks, “Would you? It is something requiring all the Obsidian.”


“I will have to come back, darling,” Jack says to someone behind him, and then he appears before them. “My, how odd. It is like one is being stretched very severely, but it is only momentary.”


Jack pats on a back pocket, then pulls out a necklace and two earrings and bounces them in his hand.


“This would rather suit you, I imagine,” he tells the helmswoman.


Asurbanipal looks first at her, and then at the jewelry.


“Such booty is not usually handed over. We usually demand it of people.”


“Yes, I’ve been on your ship before.”


“I don’t recall that,” Asurbanipal objects, even as Jack proffers the jewelry to the woman. She holds out her hook, and he hangs them from it.


Asurbanipal asks Axewing, “Well, discounting distractions to the contrary, who else?”


“Sybermane should be next.”

























Sybermane saw a large cat—as in a wildcat of some kind—sitting in front of the door of the Girl’s room.

“This is the cat I was speaking of,” Cabillion told him. “Now Sana, we need to see the girl, to make sure she is well.” The cat responds with a low growl. “Now don’t be like that. We want to make sure she is well. There is a window in Aggie’s room, you know. Someone can climb up.”


The cat stands and pushes at door. Sybermane sees the Girl sitting in a chair, a body on the bed and Handfist standing with his back to the door, his beard wrapped in a towel.


“What do you want?” the last demanded of Cabillion.



“Mostly, right now, we’re hoping Sana will let us in. I need to see the girl, to make sure she’s alright.”


“Of course she’s fine. I’m here. Alright, dragon cat, one side.” Sana moves out of the way, and Cabillion blinks. “Sreigorn might have taught me a thing or two.”


“Oh, my goodness,” the Girl exclaims, catching sight of Sybermane. “You’re quite special.”


Sybermane in turn introduces himself, leaving out the sarcastic tone for a change.


Cabillion walks over to the bed, while the Girl is distracted, to ensure Asher’s body hasn’t yet begun to decay.


“How old are you?” Sybermane asks the Girl.


“I am told I am perhaps a hundred. I was there when I was born, but I don’t remember.” “What is it you do?”


“Not so much, any more.” In respond to another question, she reveals she can’t recall when she first came to the Playships.


“I understand you’ve been to school. What is your favourite subject?”


“Dancing.”


“What kind of dancing?”


“The Draegerans are very good at dancing. The Athyra I learned from was most gifted in solo music. Do you know much about dancing?”


“No. I have two left hooves.”


“Why do you call them hooves?”


Sybermane demonstrates how he can transform his hands into hooves, and back again.


”Ah. It is similar to a goat, but it only has one cleat, not two. I have seen goats quite often. There are many in the city. Many herders in city take care of goats. They are used to pull wagons. Some get quite large.”


“Have you heard of horses?”


“I’ve heard the word, but I haven’t seen one.”


Sybermane then sees a glassed door on the far wall of the room, opening out into the air, was changing into a glowing silver disc, and seems to be spinning slowly, with sparkles coming off it. Handfist, toweling his beard, freezes. The disc has bulged into a half-sphere, but Sybermane can’t tell if it was inward or outward. He sees Asurbanipal gazing at him through the circle. On the other end, Axewing and Shadowjack see Sybermane’s equine head. “The Obsidians are being gathered,” Axewing announces. “Would you come forward?”



Sybermane makes his farewell to the Girl and then approaches the circle. After feeling as if he’s been stretched through long pipe, he finds himself in the steerage compartment.


“I believe this is as many Obsidian as has been on my ship at one time. Who’s next?” Asurbanipal inquires.


“Next, I think, would be Dantalion,” Axewing replies.


She appears in the hub of the shadowy wheel, clad in plate armour, sitting on a throne, a great bastard sword leaning on an arm.


“I’m just sitting about, waiting for you,” she tells the watchers. “For this.”


“I take it you are on Axildusk?” Asurbanipal asks.


“Not precisely. That would be risky. I was forewarned you would be calling on me. I will come to you.”


What looks like a carpet in front of her throne is in fact a long cloak. She shifts slightly, gathering it into her lap, and then her throne seems to levitate and come toward the hub. Then, she is sitting in the room, and she puts her mantle back onto the floor. Those already there notice lions on the arms of her chair, seemingly carved from obsidian.


“I’m pleased to meet you all. Forgive me for not standing.”


“A lady does not have to stand for a gentleman,” Asurbanipal says, attempting a gallantry.


“What gives?” Shadowjack demands.


“What do you mean?” the captain asks.


“Where’s Dantalion? Who is this woman? Axewing, are you as confused as I am? What have you done with him?”


“This is Lady Dantalion,” Asurbanipal answers.


“What has she done to deserve such a title?” Jack asks.


“She was born.”


Axewing counters, “This is not the Dantalion I knew, and I have met him.”


“You speak of my father. I am the last of the Dantalions.”


“That’s only for now. You can marry and sire children,” Asurbanipal assures her. She does not seem excited by the news.


“Sire?” Dantalion objects, raising an eyebrow. “I will forgive you this overstep, Asurbanipal. You do it frequently, and I am growing fond of it. What is the purpose of this meeting? Who are these others?”


“This is a gathering of the Obsidian,” Axewing declares. “I am Axewing.”


“I don’t know this name.”


“Conan was the one I was born with.”


“Ah. Yes. Yes. Conan Axewing. I remember now. A title I thought. And you are?”


“Sybermane.”


“Ah, yes, you are one of the Principles, but not of my Principle.”


Axewing, addressing Dantalion, says, “We are both Principals of Time.”


“I refer to this as Taiphon,” Dantalion replies. “This is an interesting and august gathering, but we are one short.”


Axewing turns to Asurbanipal. “The last, then. Asmodeus.”


A bearded man appears in the wheel, and steps through it. He is clad in black, lighting of some kind shining from his chest. A nasty scar runs through one eyebrow, and two weapons are chained to him but sheathed. One looks like it has the hilt of a sword, the other a gun.


“Now that we are all here….” Asmodeus turns his attention immediately to Axewing. “It is time to bring the Doctor, is it not?”


“Yes. Indeed. That is the purpose.”


“Doctor?” Asurbanipal inquires.


“Yes,” Axewing answers. “The purpose of the gathering. The Bit have made themselves known, the Master is not far behind. We must seek the Doctor’s advice. A particular Doctor. The Doctor, as you all may know, is Doctor Who. This is the one who will be most appropriate to our needs.”


“I have met the fellow,” Asurbanipal admits. He spins the Wheel, and an image of a young man appears.

“Ah. Captain Banipal, is it not?”


“How do you fare in your ship?”


“What a collection of individuals I see before me. I didn’t have a chance to tidy up.” Above the Doctor is a painting, perhaps an etching, with a glyph, looking very strange indeed. Others show a man with a lantern, another someone looking at a map. They are hard to make out for some reason. A book on a table has a variety of bookmarks projecting from it. Sybermane takes in the scene, and when he looks at the Doctor, the other stares at him quite intently.


“Can I help you with something? You seem to be taking a certain delight in my Tardis. I will come to you. Forgive me for a moment. I will be with you shortly.”


Asurbanipal spins the Wheel, and the shadows emanating from it dissipates. “He’ll be with us in a moment.”


They hear a weird sound, like gears needing oiling mixed with an old donkey giving birth, and wheezing as well. The sound might come from the next chamber. Then they see a figure step through a door, somewhat older than the Doctor, looking at his wrist.


“Ah. I hope I’m on time.”


“Doctor Who,” Axewing greets him. “Thank you for coming.”


“My earlier self couldn’t make it,” The Doctor explains.


Axewing says, “This is a gathering of the Obsidian, which I take it you understand. We require information. We are at this particular time…”


“Something to do with the Bit.”


“It is part of a greater struggle, but yes, the Bit, and the Master. We need to know more about this Master.”


“I’m quite certain he’s not anywhere nearby. I’m sure I’d know it.”


“So he is not in Axildusk?”


“Let us hope not,” The Doctor replies.


“I’d prefer more than hope.”


“If he was about, I would be aware.”


“This is a Doctor who has fallen from us?” Axewing asks.


“I am offended on your behalf,” the Doctor replies.


“I meant the Outremer.”


“You are a Prince of the Obsidian.”


“But the Doctors are part of the Outremer, though. He was part.”


“Yes. But never of you.”


Axewing says, “These assassins have made themselves known, and they are part of this struggle. We recently learned the Bit are associated with this Master, and the Shelled or Illithyd.”


“Two quite distinct groups you have named. The Shelled seeks these elements of what has come before. The Illithyd are distinctly different. The Master, he works with all these disjointed forces to perpetrate his crimes against reality, or should I say unreality, as the case takes you.”


“Can we assume that with time he will make his presence known here?”


The Doctor muses, “Up until this very moment, I would have said no. But I am here, so I would have to say yes. He and I are joined in a fashion.”


Axewing seeks more information about the Bit. “They are assassins, yet they are difficult to see or find.”


“They do not exist, and yet they are.”


“For a simple barbarian, how am I supposed to deal with these?”


“The Master has seen to it that they have become what they sought to destroy, but you would know this already. You have had this time before.”


Dantalion interjects, “We have all had time before, good Doctor.”


The Doctor smiles at her. “Yes, of course you have. I forget myself. It is a professional hazard. What was the question?”


Axewing resumes, “The Bit. How are we to find them? How are we to defeat them?”


“Obviously you need a Doctor’s help, for they are not real. You cannot track them down to their hideout. They are all around us, or as around as they need to be.”


“So I assume you are the one to provide this help.”


“All Doctors are skilled at what is the opposite to reality.”


“Then what is to be done?”


“I’m not sure this is the Time,” The Doctor replies.


“I think we should be moving against them, if we are able,” Jack offers.


The Doctor says, “Yes, of course, if you wish it. I am nothing but a servant to the Principality of the Obsidian. What do you want?”


Jack warns, This might be a case of being careful not to regret what you might wish for.”


Axewing asks, “We have to become unreal to deal with this group of assassins?”


The Doctor answers. “In a manner of speaking. You would have to travel to where they are. It is a venture with some hazard, not so much for me, but for you. It can change a man, or a woman.”


Dantalion stands for the first time and steps forward. “I’m ready if everyone else is ready.”


She wears a crown upon her head, two red gems prominent, almost as if forming an hourglass.


“I, too, am ready,” Axewing confirms. “I think it is an act worth taking the chance for.”


“We should roll the dice, the,” the Doctor states.


“I don’t like the sounds of this,” Jack said skeptically.


“Don’t be a party pooper,” Asmodeus scolds.


The Doctor looked back and forth between the Obsidian, a concerned look on his face. “It took me a long time to put things to right, when you previously argued.”


“We have enemies enough without making enemies of ourselves.”


“Yes,” Asurbanipal says placatingly. “This is meant to be a jolly time.”


Asmodeus warned him, “There will be no chance of you practicing your highwayman skills, where we go. If we are to work together, Time and Shadow, you need to mind your step, you and Jack.”


“We don’t have a problem with that, do we Sybermane?” Asurbanipal asked.


“What’s your name again?”


“I am your host!”


“We will have to the Tardis,” the Doctor announces.


“I had hoped to take the ship,” Asurbanipal laments.


“You should think of your crew,” the Doctor chides.


“I suppose I shouldn’t be risking more than anyone else.”


They move to the next chamber, where a very strange looking tall, narrow box appears. The Doctor pulls out a key and opens a door.


“I should go in first. The Tardis doesn’t like strangers.”

Transcribed by R.Perry