City of Sinister Angles

A Skeleton In The Closet

The Saucy Wench's Sister, the steam-assisted galleon of Factor Destrian Baal, was moored in the harbor of Port Silver. The port was a Hyzephrian trade hub in Argyre and the last major holding of the late Great House Oberon.

Destrian Baal himself, with a small guard of six of his men, walked further outside of town beside Tybalt Oberon, who was similarly accompanied. Destrian wore a long heavy coat draped across his shoulder, festooned with House Baal ornamentation, and a tricorn hat. His irregular stubble implied he wasn't shaving carefully. He looked a little too clean to be a sailor but a little too dirty to be an aristocrat, despite being both.

A great cousin of the new Matriarch Morgana Baal, Destrian was just distantly related enough to keep his vases free of flower arrangements in the aftermath of his great aunt's death.

In defiance of his house's turn of fortune Tybalt was still dressed in the manner of a Thulian merchant prince, with a white double-breasted jacket with cloth-of-gold trim and a matching peaked cap. He had managed to keep it mostly clean in spite of his surroundings.

"I'm glad you could put aside our family rivalry to pursue something to our mutual benefit," said Tybalt

"To be honest, we don't consider you rivals anymore," replied Destrian "Are you aware you're a pirate now?"

Tybalt ignored the comment for the sake of the venture.

The group came to a large rock formation on the edge of the water. Two massive black metal doors were set in to its side. There was evidence that the doors had recently been the subject of canon fire, although they seemed none worse for the wear.

On the left door was a large bas-relief of the House Baal insignia, a bat clutching a scroll, and on the right door the insignia of House Oberon, a butterfly with floral pattern wings.

"It's sealed with a double blood lock," explained Tybalt "As you can see we've already attempted to open the door by other means."

"How old must this thing be if it predates the animosity between our two families?" wondered Destrian aloud.

"Who says it does?" said Tybalt "Are you ready?"

"I'm positively tumescent with anticipation," Destrian deadpanned "Let's get on with this."

"Do you have a knife?" asked Tybalt.

Destrian produced a very expensive bejeweled knife and twisted the tip into his pointer finger, poking a small hole. Tybalt made a similar prick on his finger with his own knife. Each wiped their finger on the small receptacle on their respective sides of the door.

There was a low groaning, grinding noise that grew more and more shrill. Sand and earth rained to the ground as the two great doors scraped open for the first time in centuries, spilling forth the stale air from within.

The group stepped inside and shined the light of their lamps in the darkness.

A long and surprisingly low hallway led deep into the rock, before opening in a single small chamber. In the center of the chamber was an unusual chair, like something from the laboratory of a surgeon or a necromancer. Secured to the chair by many metal restrained all along the arms, legs, torso and head was a blackened skeleton covered in a thin layer of what must have been mummified skin.

"Well," joked Tybalt "Which half do you want?"

There was a noise that wasn't a noise, as some soundless voice spoke to the minds of those present.

"Blood," it demanded.

A look of unease spread across the assembled men.

"You all heard that, yes?" asked Tybalt.