One Night Stands

Two weeks ago…

How could it be that the Hammersmith job went so terribly wrong? It was a simple burglary - a drop from the Thieves Highway into the third floor bedroom of a London socialite who was out on the town with her lover - the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador. The medallion was odd - a crudely shaped star on a copper ingot, but a job is a job and you are a thief. Anyway, the Professor said that you could keep anything else that you lifted from the penthouse.

It was the smell - a briny tang - that hinted you were not the only one in the darkened room. By candlelight perched near the safe, you could only sense movement in the shadows. Suddenly, smothering darkness - no arms holding you, just the cloying smell of salt, heavy and hypnotic - then sleep. If it hadn't been for the socialite, Miss Hope, returning early and just at that moment, you probably would have been killed rather than held in the stinking cells at Scotland Yard for the last ten days. In the end, nothing was missing from the safe, and Miss Hope seemed to prefer a quiet resolution to the affair.

But that was only the beginning of the strange happenings, as upon your release the Professor and your cabal had vanished. You had tried all the contingency contacts, and they were either dead or missing. The safe houses abandoned - for the first time in ten years, you were alone. And yours was not the only cabal disbanded - rumors from the Docklands to Whitechapel hinted at mysterious vanishings and brutal slayings. Chaos, it seems, is shaking the underworld.

A simple card with the words "Haunting Hand" was in the black envelope passed to you by the barman at the Headless Woman. You have second-guessed the decision several times, but here you are - in a strange vault in the sewers under St. Michael's Church in Highgate, sitting around a stone slab. Five steely-eyed strangers are with you, but no words have been exchanged. Suddenly, a large black-bearded man with a top hat stoops and enters the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen. A new cabal is forming. Right now, we are recruiting the finest cracksmiths and assassins in London to join our guild. As you know, a terrible force is ripping through the heart of the thieving guilds in London. Tonight is the night we bring this madness to and end. Tonight is your audition for the Haunting Hand…."

Widow’s Peak Prison, home to some of the most dangerous criminals in the free cities. Renegade mages, slaves to the SABOC, dangerous entities and more inhabit its dark cells. You wake up to the sounds of screams in the distance. Your cell door is unlocked. You feel your magic returning to you, no longer blocked by the wards of the prison. It’s your move…….

Armed with an escape plane lovingly crafted during your tenure at the prison, a grudge against those that mistreated you, and a rumor of fabulous treasures secreted on the prison grounds, you must make your way to freedom.

Lightning flashes and thunder growls shaking the deep bowels of the ancient stonework of Seamount Madhouse. You lurch bolt upright, eyes wide with fear - hoping for release from dreams even more sinister than your tortured existence under the mad wizard. A scream rends the air, threatening to overwhelm even the virulent storm outside - then silence, broken only by a wet pounding sound from the operating theater beyond. Then, it strikes you. You are sitting upright, the leather bonds which have held you onto the wooden slab these past two weeks hang loosely at your side.

Freedom? But how? And why?

Another flash of light illuminates the ward in distorted shadows and you jump - around you five other figures mimic your surprise and fear. Each sits upright looking confused and dazed. By the door, a knife used by the orderlies lies forgotten near a wooden chair which still leans back against the wall without a sign of its usual occupant.

Another scream and you are on your feet. A glance out the window reveals a storm in full fury, lightning illuminating a turbulent sea. Thunder competes with waves crashing against the rocky cliffs of Seamount.

Escape? Impossible. But maybe you can find somewhere to hide in this terror-ridden monstrosity.

As you move quickly to the door listening intently to the hallway beyond, the five others have joined you - comrades now in a mission of survival. Glancing down at figures you suspected were children, you are surprised to see that they have wings. For the first time in two weeks, you smile. You are all fey - elves and fairies - a common bond for what promises to be a storm-filled night of bedlam.

Zorast stood atop the walls of Widow's Peak prison, at once exulting in the cold, snapping wind from the sea and at the same time raging as he saw his mission collapsing into failure. The Echizan slowly drifted over the gatehouse, reaching out with its hundreds of tentacles towards the towering demon as bolts of arcane energy lanced down from the mages on it's decks.

Destrakhan had already disappeared, making her way to the freedom she so desperately sought. The rest of the group hunkered down on the parapet, trying to stay out of the line of sight of the gigantic floating beast that the Free City mages had turned into a floating dreadnaught. The Balor had wreaked enormous damage to the prison buildings and guards, but the arrival of the Echizen and its potent masters made its defeat inevitable.

The "jar" lay just a few hundred yards away, but it might as well be another continent. The renegade alchemist the he had chased across a whole continent and into this prison was probably fleeing the chaos that dominated the courtyard if he was not gone already. At least Espargaz would lose his safe haven. This prison would be the focus of far too much attention for his liking.

Zorast prepared to withdraw the team over the walls and into the sea. They still had a difficult swim ahead of them to make good their escape. The secrets stolen by Espargaz were too dangerous to allow his continued existence. Already Zorast began to think about a new team. Some of the current group might be worth enticing to stay with him. Others would be found to join him.

With a sigh of frustration, Zorast dove into the blue water below...