Warhammer Fantasy: Thirteen Tolls - An Apocalypse Quest

You kneel, staining your robes with mud and blood, and pray. You have had one reaction to crisis. You will do your duty, the gods themselves be dammed.

There is a ritual prescribed by the Cult for times like this, when a priest cannot stay overlong with the body. In the ancient war against the Great Enemy, it was of the highest importance to ensure no vultures might pick out the souls of Order's martyrs. A dark rumor, that the Cult has never been able to fully dispel, is that it is in fact some practice borrowed from the Enemy and turned to good purpose. Who knew better of the transport of souls?

You look at the discarded ring, and the wound across Sonia's body, a gash ripping her nigh in two, intestines spilling out, bile and ruin. The wreck of her form smells sickly-sweet, like nobody you've ever seen. You hear, in the distance, a scream turning into a cackle, a haHaHA, ecstatic joy layered with absolute pain. You think – perhaps your purpose is not so far from those ancient days.

The actual procedure is very short, meant for corpses by the thousands. You close her eyes, and lay her body out flat as you can, staining your hands with gore. You have no wine, which would be traditional, so you go further back, in the most ancient ways, and cut your hand – not with your sword! – but a dagger you carry on your hip. As the blood drips on to the earth, you make the sign of Morr with your unwounded palm – and speak:

"May your journey be under the Raven's wings."

There is a flutter, and above you, a dark cloud passes, obscuring the light of the green moon.

"Be at peace. Be at peace. Be at peace."

Your blood drops onto Sonia's face. It sizzles, boiling.

"Be at peace. Be at peace. Be at peace"

You smell burning hair and sloughing skin. Your blood flows like a tide,

"Be at peace. Be at peace. Be at peace."

You open your eyes. You hadn't realized you shut them.

Below is Sonia's body, a little shriveled; plants and thorns have grown around it, letting it rest soft. It smells of nothing, not even rot.

Where her head was is a perfect skull, pale, unblemished, clean.

You pick it up, and kiss Sonia on the forehead.

"Farewell."

And holding her last remains to return to the Roost, you turn and walk back towards the Casino, where the screams have stopped, and you can only hear - music?

…

You approach the Casino gardens, and it paradoxically gets only quieter. You can feel something pressing around you, some half-song trying to worm its way into your ear. But you cannot hear it. It is like a man too old to hear some high pitch. You know, but you cannot feel.

The gardens themselves are abandoned. There are no bodies, no signs of battle. No, not even a petal is awry. You're holding the skull with one hand, so you can't actually draw your proper sword, so you're only armed with a dagger. But as you stalk through the hedgerows, and draw closer to the building proper, there is nothing and less.

So you finally arrive at the great door that leads from the main hall. It is bounded by great translucent windows, stained glass of the bounty of the sea – dolphins, turtles, sea wyrms. But that is all gone now, and instead the glass has gone black with smoke; you cannot see inside, but once again smell that sickly-sweet.

But you have friends and allies inside, so you have no time for fear. No time for doubt. You, as always, have but duty.

You knock, once, twice, thrice.

"I am a Friend of the House" you say "and I request entry!"

The doors creak an inch open.

You step inside, and almost drop the skull as the door slams behind you almost on your arm.

And what greets you is total pandemonium.

[FLIP: Hedonism - AUTOPASS: Blessing of the Raven]

A blast of music and heat hits you, and for a moment you feel your feet tap and you to begin to laugh as confetti falls from the ceiling and you see your friends, and Aoife too dancing and having a ball. Aoife is as you last saw her, with copper hair and sea-green eyes, and she gestures for you to do so.

But before you can make a step, you move to catch something held underarm – and your fingers touch cold bone.

The dead.

Aoife is dead.

And like a falling plane of glass, the scene shatters.

There is singing and dancing but discordant and horrible; women with neon hair and crab arms and scorpion tales babble and shriek. They have formed a circle, and within that flesh prison you see Casino guests you saw before jiving to that unholy tune, tears and snot and blood running down their faces, stepping and twirling and waltzing so quick their feet are a bloody ruin.

Further down the hall, you see Rackius Felbus, the senator, belly engorged, maybe six feet of fat dragged along the floor and growing. Another daemon is feeding him an endless array of chocolates and sweets as he blubbers and cries "No more! No more!"

In another corner, you see some beast-chimera of crocodile, serpent and barbed harpoon bash itself against a door you know leads to the Theatre. crashes into the wood, which stands, and hisses as the mark of a broken chain burns itself into its head – the mark of Tyleus the Liberator.

Where the dining rooms used to be, there is but a grey mist that to look upon makes your head hurt. Some crab-women advance gingerly into it every so often, but none return.

Finally, above it all, on a balcony from the playing rooms, there is Morgannis Barbarian, one of the cities' great commercial titans. He looks, of all things, unaffected. His dark robes are undirtied, and there is no trace of smile or frown. He looks at the phantasmagoria, and seems to have no more emotion then he would for the purchase or sale of some sacks of grain.

That is, until he sees you, and you realize you're perfectly obvious, because there is a thick perfume making pink clouds in the air that in a circle about you stops dead, opposed by a thin line of frost that you realize circles you as you enter hell.

Morgannis makes eye contact, and you see, finally, an emotion – irritation.

He raises a hand, and everyone stops.

And then, he points to you.

What happens next?

[] The Cavalry

Xenophon's not been the only one having dreams.

[] The Birds

The Raven finds a flock.

[] The Portal

Morr controls the gate between worlds.

AN: My apologies for the delay, was facing real writer's block, and only just managed to push through. As compensation for your patience, you get to pick what awesome thing Xenophon does. Morr is acting through him, as he has aligned himself to his God through his funeral, and in the face of the direct actions of one the Four and the resulting disturbance to reality, is much freer to induce miracles. All of the votes will result in Xenophon clearing the room – and a unique bonus.