Jonathon Worthington: Strangelight Investigator

Case #17: The Mystery of the Giggling Gobber (Chapter 10)

Claws raked across my face gently, almost lovingly.

"Wakey, wakey, time for breaky," giggled Titan.

There was precious little light to see by when I opened my eyes; the crimson outlines that had allowed vision in the dark were gone. Titan's own eyes caught the faint light like a cat's, and they widened in joy when he saw I'd awakened. I tried to sit up only to discover that I'd been strapped down with leather restraints to an archaic surgical table, shirtless and frightened but otherwise unharmed. My back burned not from the scalded flesh, but rather from the contact with the table itself, whose mechanikal nature was apparent given my allergic reaction to it. Welts seared my back, but all the same I gave thanks to Morrow that I hadn't been hooked to the ceiling like Bailey and his men. Above me I could yet hear their muffled moaning and see bodies jerking in their dance of agony. For whatever reason Titan's victims had stopped screaming for the time being; I did not wish to speculate as to why.

Titan scratched my cheek with a clawed finger, bringing fresh blood to the surface. "Where sigils, where runes? No hidey answers, bad boy, no joy." With a devilish look Titan reached behind him and I gritted my teeth, expecting a bone saw, a hammer, a wrench, or any number of other torturous tools.

Instead he put an old gas lantern on my chest and turned up the flame.

Above me Bailey and his men writhed at the edge of the light, their chains jangling in a hypnotic rhythm. My stomach churned with repressed disgust at what I saw. During the time I'd been unconscious several had been flayed down to their bones and many had various organs missing from gaping cavities in a ghastly display of butchery. Yet still they lived, held aloft by the damnable Orgoth hooks. Two of the men were missing entirely, and I refused to speculate on their fate. Titan must have gotten tired of the screaming from the remainder of the rescue party, for their lips had been sewn shut, and the poor devils were only able to groan in constant agony. Bailey, the formerly one-armed foreman, was now missing all of his limbs, and the fresh stumps twitched pitifully in their absence. I was appalled at the half-living state the hooks kept him and his men in; death would doubtlessly be a welcome relief. Despite the proximity of the arcane hooks the disease did not strike me down, but judging from the dissected state of the men above I'd been unconscious for a substantial length of time. How long had I writhed senseless as the magic tortured me? It was small comfort that the disease had receded enough to allow consciousness again; before Titan was done I suspected I'd count my awakening as a curse rather than a mercy.

"Why so difficult?" Titan pouted, raking his claw across my bare midriff. "Need flay to get skin to grin again?" I'd had trouble understanding the gobber before, but his speech had become more fragmented, perhaps almost as much as his mind.

My head remained unsecured, so I was able to lift it enough to view my upper body. I was surprised to see that while my skin retained the dark hue from the disease the bloody tattoos had receded once more. I could feel them lurking though, twisting deep in my muscle. It took a moment to focus my sight beyond my own plight to where Orsch lay bound nearby.

Although there was a dreadful vacancy on the Orgoth hooks above the mundane chains that restrained my unconscious companion were not attached to any malevolent artifacts; however their quantity and distribution left little doubt he was just as helpless as I. He too had been stripped of his shirt and jacket, leaving his pallid grey flesh exposed with its Y-shaped scar tissue, the arms of which marred the space below his collarbones before merging into a single long slash that ran down the length of his torso. While his bowler hat was missing Orsch's goggles remained steadfastly in place. It was surprising that Titan hadn't tried to cut them off yet. The little gobber had been fascinated by the fact that they were surgically grafted to my companion; truth be told, it was a mystery that intrigued me as well. While Orsch had sustained no visible injury yet it was certain that the fiendish gobber had grim plans for us both. That my friend had been so easily caught and imprisoned baffled me. Had Titan subdued him using alchemical means, or were there things lurking in the shadows that the gobber controlled against which even an ogrun was powerless?