Tag: quest

Gotham Tales: The Fox, the Blackbird, and the Clockwork Heart

Gotham Tales: The Fox, the Blackbird, and the Clockwork Heart


Cloaked traveler crossing a bridge toward a glowing gothic castle in rain

The Master of Ravens had sent Maggie into the world of Men to learn what Faery could not teach her.
Under another name, Maylee Fox, she had entered the wilderness of human affairs, carrying the memory of a compact with the Ravenqueen and the suspicion that the world was coming apart at its seams.

She had not expected Gotham, a grand experiment in bankruptcy, corruption, and human endurance.
Maylee survived among its homeless children until Sister Bridget of Our Lady delivered her to Homestead, that improbable refuge on the border.
There, among bread ovens, broken machines, and lessons in acrobatics, she learned the useful art of appearing ordinary.

But Maylee was no ordinary girl.
The lighthouse signals were intended for a watcher who served a power older than the machinery he commanded.
The body was merely a disguise; its destruction had interrupted a transfer from somewhere beyond the ordinary world.
The black-clad figure found hanging in the woods had been another messenger, carrying in its head fragments of a map—and a name that refused to remain written.

Herr Claus had been searching for that same name.
Beneath Gotham’s North Tower, Lady Blackbird examined a brass cylinder recovered by her shadowrunners.
Its delicate inscriptions resembled neither engineering notation nor any known language, yet one symbol showed a fox enclosed within a circle of ravens.

“Maylee Fox,” said AoQi, the boy in blue.

Lady Blackbird raised an eyebrow. “An associate of yours?”

“An associate of circumstances.
She once interrupted a machine that was trying to enter our world.
Unfortunately, it remembered the interruption.”

The shadowrunners exchanged glances.
They had encountered machines with grudges before, although rarely machines powered by supernatural resentment.

The boy explained that the dragon’s heart and the Clockwork Golem beneath Gotham were responding to the same signal that had animated Maylee’s mechanical pursuers.
The Mirror of Unnaming was the instrument through which their hidden master sought to erase the boundaries between worlds.

Lady Blackbird understood at last why her commission had been so carefully worded.

Far below, two hearts beat in unison.

And somewhere in the dark, the Fox heard the call of the Ravenqueen.

ping:

Tales from the Loop: Runaway kids escaping and encountering trouble in Gotham
Gotham Tales: The Hearts Beneath the City

Gotham Tales: The Hearts Beneath the City


Two adventurers approach a glowing rune-covered door in an underground cavern

Lady Blackbird had come by dirigible, accompanied by adventurers whose professional virtues included discretion, agility and trustworthiness.

Gotham, meanwhile, was recovering from its revolution.
The citizens had dismissed Macdonald’s mercenaries and discovered, with characteristic disappointment, that liberty did not provide breakfast.
Engineers repaired the sewers; politicians repaired one another’s reputations.
Beneath the city, however, the dragon’s heart continued to beat inside the broken Clockwork Golem.

The adventurers descended through a disused counting-house, where they discovered footprints in the dust belonging to something .
At the seventh landing they encountered a boy in blue, seated upon a brass gargoyle and eating an apple of remarkable antiquity.
“You are late”

“We were not expected,” said Lady Blackbird.

“Precisely. That is why you are late.”
“The dragon’s heart was awakening the Golem, while the Golem’s gears were teaching the heart a new rhythm.
Unless separated, the two would eventually excavate themselves into Gotham”

Lady Blackbird studied the boy.
She recognised him from a tale told in a distant village, where a nameless river spirit had spoken of Gotham and a mirror that stole the names of things.

“The Mirror of Unnaming,” she said.

He bowed. “And its maker awaits us below.”

They proceeded together.
Far beneath them, two hearts beat.

Ping:

Even death may die in Mythago World
Gotham Tales: The Black Mirror

Gotham Tales: The Black Mirror


Sorceress standing before a skull-framed portal to a dark fantasy realm

AoQi, the boy in blue had spoken before, though never quite where one expected him.
In Gotham, where the old stones remembered kings and the river carried secrets beneath its bridges, he had been seen on rooftops, in ruined chapels, and once reflected in a window that had no building behind it.
Those who met him afterwards remembered his blue coat, but seldom his face.

AoQi worked patiently at the river spirit’s tangled reeds.
With every knot released, the water grew clearer, and something ancient stirred beneath the bathhouse floor.

“Gotham,” murmured the spirit, tasting the word as though it were a fishbone. “That is where forgotten things gather.”

The bath-mistress looked sharply upwards. The soot sprites fell silent.
“You know the city?”

“I knew its river before men built their walls.
I knew its wells before they gave them numbers.
And I remember a bell that rang beneath the streets, calling things by their true names.”
“The bell has been silent for years/
Someone stole its clapper.
Since then, Gotham has been growing stranger.
Doors open onto rooms that never existed.
Portraits forget their sitters.
And in the oldest quarter, a man has begun selling mirrors in which nobody has a name.”
“The Black Mirror .”
“Its maker has come to Gotham, looking for something buried beneath the city.

The bath-mistress placed a hand upon AoQi ‘s shoulder.
“Then your well and our river are bound by the same wound.”

Outside, the tide turned.
Far away, beyond the mist, a bell sounded once beneath the earth.

The river spirit rose, taller than the bathhouse doors, water pouring from its ancient shoulders.
“Go, name-walker.
Find what Gotham has forgotten.
But remember this: a name is not a label to pin upon the world. It is a promise to pay attention.”

Ping:

Gotham diaspora: AoQi quest
Gotham Shadowrunners at the Coven Door

Gotham Shadowrunners at the Coven Door


Six hooded figures gathered around a candlelit table in a stone chamber

The Coven smelled of damp wool and scorched incense.
Its familiar clutter of spellbooks, empty bottles, and ancient weapons seemed almost indecently comforting.
Coil emerged first, followed by Hull, whose boots struck the flagstones with a noise like a dropped safe.
Vixen stepped through last, adjusting her hair.
The black door shut behind them.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then footsteps sounded.

Demon stood beside the hearth, his lean face illuminated by green flames.
Grip occupied the divan, where he was methodically removing splinters from his left hand.

“You’re late,” said Demon.
“We took the scenic route,” Coil replied.
Grip grunted. “Through where?”
“An error.”
Hull sat heavily in an armchair.
It collapsed, recovered, and collapsed again, apparently uncertain which century it occupied.

Vixen surveyed her companions. “You escaped?”

“Eventually,” said Demon.
“We found ourselves in a kingdom where every promise became a physical object.
Grip promised to neutralize the pretender “

Grip displayed his wounds. “The pretender was a remarkable bastard.”

“We stole a boat,” Demon continued, “sailed through a sea of memories, and came ashore in a place where shadows were resided. Fortunately, I knew the Way”

Coil nodded appreciatively. “Professional work.”

“Then we followed a talking crow to a door.”

The shadowrunners looked towards the new door in the wall.

It possessed neither handle nor keyhole.
Upon its surface, silver letters slowly arranged themselves into a sentence:

THE COMPACT REMAINS IN FORCE.

Hull rose. “I’ll break it.”

“Certainly,” said Coil. “And when it opens into the inside of your skull, do try not to inconvenience us.”

Vixen approached the door, listening.
From somewhere beyond came the faint clink of armour.

She smiled.

“Gentlemen, I believe our landlord has arrived.”

Demon poured five drinks.

“Excellent,” he said. “We should discuss the rent.”

And somewhere beyond, something ancient began to laugh.

Ping:

Ghost-Echo Covenant with the Sidhe
Fragmenten van herinneringen

Fragmenten van herinneringen


Vintage triptych of canals, ocean liner, airplanes, and harbor skyline

Na mijn geboorte van Naarden naar Amsterdam:
We woonden begane grond:  een speeltje van buurtkind valt in de achtertuin.

…intermezzo van 7 jaar…

Met de boot naar Djakarta, wat is het hier vies!

Met vliegtuig  terug naar Amsterdam, wat is het hier koud!

Opnieuw ben ik een vreemdeling in een vreemd land.

…intermezzo: Oegstgeest, Nijmegen, chaotische studententijd…
Krakersrellen, tanks in de straten, flashback van coup 1965.


Definitief terug  naar Amsterdam voor intensieve opleidingsperiode gongfu.
Zang, dans, optredens.

Vertrouwensbreuk van mijn leraar, ik stap er uit.

Een nieuw begin:
Verliefd, verloofd, getrouwd, eerste kind, eerste vaste baan…wel heel veel tegelijk.

De eerste paar jaar druk met huisje-boompje beestje, later ruimte voor eigen persoonlijke ontwikkeling, een magische tijd.


Ontmoeting met tweelingziel, ik was nog nooit zo hartstochtelijk geweest.

Opnieuw zelfstandig wonen, mijn definitieve vaste baan gevonden in maatschappelijke opvang.
Gezien hoe makkelijk het is om af te glijden van grachtenpand naar de straat.

Dankzij tuinieren kan ik  contact maken met de grond van dit land.

Voor het eerst kan ik me wortelen in dit land.

Lockdown!
Oude banden breken in deze dorre tijd.
Wandelingen  in de stadsnatuur helpen me er doorheen.

Met mijn lief verhuist naar een ruimere woning in een bruisend stadsdeel, een nieuwe wereld gaat open voor mij.


Met pensioen terugkijken  op herinneringen, al die fragmenten vormen het mozaiek voor de lapjesdeken die als een mantel om me heen past.
Ik ben trots op mijn Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat!

De droom van Onze Lieve Vrouwe

De droom van Onze Lieve Vrouwe


Ik was in het Onze Lieve Vrouwe Gasthuis voor een scan en lag in de MRI cabine:

Het lijkt wel een glazen kist uit een sprookje.
Via de koptelefoon klinkt klassieke muziek: Solveig’s lied!

Mijn ogen sluiten zich, ik droom weg…

Het bed verandert in een sloep dat wegdrijft over de rivier naar de droomtijd en brengt me naar het Regenboog Eiland. 

In de mist zie ik een stille vage gestalte, gehuld in een mantel die het gezicht bedekt met een kap.

Naderbij komend zie ik meer:
De mantel tonen de contouren van een magere gestalte.
Het gelaat onder de kap wordt langzaam duidelijk:
De linkerhelft toont de kale schedel van een geraamte, de rechterhelft toont het gezicht van een beeldschone vrouw.

Ze wenkt en neemt me mee over een smal pad.
We lopen over rotsige stenen die verderop veranderen in doornstruiken.
Het pad wordt smaller en komt uit op een brug dat zo smal is als een vlijmscherp zwaard.
Op de achtergrond hoor ik gezang: ..This ae nighte…
Over de dunne brug lopend kijk ik naar beneden en zie de knekels van degenen die eerder hier waren geweest.

Uiteindelijk komen we bij een ijzeren poort in een donkere berg.
Iemand roept: ‘wie hier binnentreedt verliest alle hoop!’

Ik loop achter mijn gids aan door de poort.
Gaandeweg verlies ik alles wat ik bij me heb: rugzak, kleren…
Ik verlies mijn huid, mijn vlees, mijn botten, mijn gedachten…
Ik los op in de donkerte en kom tot rust in een droomloze slaap…


Er klinkt weer gezang: ‘Wake Again”

Het wordt lichter om me heen.
Langzamerhand kom ik terug in de dagelijkse werkelijkheid.

In mijn hand vind ik een steen die ik kennelijk heb meegenomen uit de andere wereld.
Het is een kleine, platte, ronde steen met een gat in het midden.

Ik kijk door het gat in de steen en zie de andere werkelijkheid achter de dagelijkse, als een gedimd licht onder een mantel.



Gotham Magick against Machines

Gotham Magick against Machines


The Owl lifted into the battle smoke.
Dragon against Clockwork Golem.
Teeth against gears. Magick against machinery.
The sky had become a malfunctioning engine.

Lady Blackbird stood on the deck.
“Nearest wormhole, Captain Avery. Now.”

Avery pulled the levers.
Space buckled.
The stars became white scratches on black glass.
JUMP to Gotham.

They arrived scattered like bad thoughts.
Each went to his preferred corner of the city.

Meanwhile Gotham was coming apart.
Highlord Macdonald organized wrestling games while the streets burned with civil unrest.
Mercenary guards fired into resurgent mobs.
The city answered with broken windows, clubs, knives, slogans.

Above it all the Guardian Angels watched.

Then the Behemoth appeared.
A shape against the horizon.
Too large to be a shape.
“Sound the alarm. Prepare the defence.”

South Tower.
Four sent to watch the approach.
Jeffrey the Sharpshooter.
Julien the Medic.
Morgan the Rogue.
Peter the Messenger.

Julien closed his eyes.
He listened with the part of the mind that listens beneath language.
‘Something evil this way comes’.
Then:
“A huge dragon.”

Peter launched the glider.
From above, Gotham was a warzone.
Rebels still rioting against mercenary troops.
Vigilante martial artists converging on South Tower.
Everyone moving.
Nobody knowing where the exits were.

Peter returned with the report.
Then North Tower.

Engineer Leonardo was waiting among wires, brass instruments and improbable machines.
“According to legend,” Leonardo said, “the dragon has a weak spot. Hollow of the throat.”
“We have an experimental flamethrower.”
“You might try it.”

The Guardian Angels received a signal.
HELP.
Then another signal came screaming through the apparatus.
‘North Tower.
A huge Clockwork Golem is approaching the city.’

Two monsters.
One city.

Morgan went scavenging.
Alchemical powder.
Black residue.
Things that should not be mixed.
He built an experimental grenade.

The dragon came closer.
Closer.
Throw.
The grenade met the dragon breath.
FLASH.
BOOM.
“DUCK!”

Jeffrey did not duck quickly enough.
He became toast.

Julien was already moving.
Bandages.
Salve.
Medical intervention in the middle of the apocalypse.

Peter raised the flamethrower.
Click.
Nothing.
Then:
BOOM.
Peter joined Jeffrey in the emergency ward.
Julien sighed and went to work.

Morgan had better luck with the darts.
One flew.
Direct hit.
The dragon’s eye erupted.
“Yeah.”

Meanwhile Rudolf arrived.
Jeffrey’s twin.
He carried a meteor hammer.
The weapon spun through the air, chain hissing, and wrapped itself around the dragon’s neck.
Pull.
The dragon pulled harder.
Rudolf left the ground.
For one second he was airborne, attached to a dragon.
Then he let go.
Iron bullets.
Fire.
One found the weak spot.
The dragon screamed.

A blind dragon is a city-wide problem.
It turned south.
Then north.
“The good news,” someone said, “is that it is leaving the South Tower.”
Pause.
“The bad news is that it is rampaging through the town center.”

North Tower.
The wounded dragon charged.
BANG.
The tower shook.
Again.
BANG.

The dragon collapsed against the structure.
For one impossible moment it seemed the city had survived.
It had not.

Morgan took Peter’s glider.
Up.
Over the streets.
Onto the Golem.
Metal hands reaching.
Clockwork heart turning.
Cogs within cogs within cogs.
Morgan found a panel.
Opened it.
Inside was a mechanical nightmare.
Whirr.
Click.
Grind.
He inserted his knife.
The machinery stopped.
The Golem stopped.

Then the North Tower gave way.
The dragon’s weight had become too much.
Stone cracked.
Iron screamed.
The tower folded into the street.
And the Clockwork Golem came down with it.
The Golem collapsed onto the dragon.
Dragon beneath Golem.
Golem beneath rubble.

Rubble all over Gotham.
South to North, the city wore the scars of the battle like fresh wounds.
Smoke.
Broken towers.
Burned streets.
Twisted metal.
Silence.

The heroes gathered among the wreckage.
The worst scenario had been averted.
This was considered a victory.
In Gotham, you learn to celebrate the disasters that did not happen.


Ping

A Skyship’s Desperate Rescue Mission
Skyship Rescue Mission

Skyship Rescue Mission


Ornate owl-shaped flying ship with sails soaring among steep cliffs at sunrise

“Run!”
There are moments in life when courage is indistinguishable from good sense, and this was one of them.
Our heroes ran.
Across the shattered hall, beneath falling stones, between statues that had survived three centuries only to perish in three seconds.
“Where?” cried Engineer Leonardo.

“Up!”

“Up where?”

Lady Blackbird pointed.
Above the palace, through a vast aperture torn in the roof, skyship the Owl

She hung above like a black-winged bird, her great propellers turning furiously, her brass hull shining through the smoke.
Unfortunately, she was fifty feet above the roof.

“Excellent plan,” Leonardo said. “How do we reach it?”

A tremendous crash interrupted us.
The golem had thrown the dragon through a wall.
The wall came down.
Captain Avery was already at the mooring platform.
“Get aboard!”

“How?”
He grinned.
“By trusting a rope and regretting it afterward.”

A cable descended.

Below, the palace erupted.
Windows burst outward.
Towers leaned drunkenly.

The dragon emerged through a cloud of masonry, wings blazing, while the clockwork golem followed with the relentless dignity of a man who had never learned that buildings were supposed to remain standing.

“Cut the lines!” shouted Avery.
The crew obeyed.
The Owl lurched upward.

Then the dragon roared.
It spread its wings.
The golem seized one of its legs.
Together they fell through the palace roof.
A column of fire rose into the heavens.
Leonardo stared downward.
“Do you think they are dead?”

“No,” said Avery

“Why not?”

“Because,” he replied, looking toward the burning palace, “nothing in this cursed kingdom ever dies when it ought to.”
And beneath us, something enormous moved in the flames.

ping:

Clockwork against magick
Clockwork against magick

Clockwork against magick


The palace shook.
Dust poured from the ceiling.
Then came a sound like a thousand iron teeth grinding together.
The floor split open.
Something enormous climbed out.
It was a man.
Or had once been one.
Bronze plates covered its body.
Pistons hammered beneath its chest.
Its eyes burned with blue fire, and a great brass gear turned slowly behind its skull.
The clockwork golem raised one iron fist.
The dragon stared at it.
The golem stared back.

The golem punched the dragon.
The impact sounded like a cannon firing inside a cathedral.
The dragon flew backward through three pillars.
The dragon rose from the rubble.
Its brass helmet was bent.
Its pride was considerably more damaged.
It spread its wings.
Fire filled its throat.

“Everyone down!”

The dragon breathed.
Flame swept across the hall.

The golem did not move.
Its chest opened.
Inside was a spinning furnace.
The fire struck it.
The machine glowed red.
Then the golem laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
It seized the dragon by the throat.

The dragon clawed at its arms.
The golem lifted it from the floor.

The entire palace groaned.
Somewhere, a gear the size of a carriage began turning.

The palace shook.

The floor exploded.

Ping:

Cry havoc
Cry havoc Atlantis!

Cry havoc Atlantis!


The ceiling exploded.
Stone and dust thundered into the hall.
Something vast crashed through the roof.
It had claws.
It had wings.
It had far too many teeth.
And it was wearing what appeared to be a brass helmet.

The creature roared.
The windows shattered.

Scurlock drew his sword.
Unlike Blackbird’s elegant rapier, his weapon was a long, wicked blade, black as midnight and twice as unpleasant.

“Right,” said Avery. “Who attacks first?”

Lady Blackbird grinned.
“I do.”

She sprang onto the back of a fallen statue, ran up its shoulder, and launched herself at the creature.
Her sword flashed.
She struck one of its horns.
Sparks flew.
The creature bellowed and swatted her aside.
Avery caught her.

Scurlock leapt onto the creature’s claw.
He drove his sword between two scales.
The beast shrieked and shook its limb violently.
Scurlock held on with one hand.

“Guardian!”

“Yes?”

“The lever!”

The Guardian went pale.
“Which one?”

“All of them!”

“That seems unsafe!”

“Precisely!”

The Guardian hurled himself toward the machinery.
Leonardo followed.
“Wait for me!”

“You’re an engineer!”

“Exactly! I understand levers!”

Behind them, Lady Blackbird and Avery attacked together.
Steel rang against brass.
The creature snapped at Avery.
He ducked.

Blackbird thrust.
The blade vanished between its teeth.
She stared.
“Oh.”

Avery grabbed her by the collar.
“Run!”

They fled as the beast bit down.
The sword snapped.

Blackbird looked at the broken hilt in disbelief.
“My sword!”

The Guardian pulled three levers.
Somewhere beneath the palace, a machine awakened.

ping:

The enemy of my enemy