Whispered Secrets

Tenth Report

by Nache de la Mer Chemical

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep, some expert physiotherapy and the lingering scent of antiseptic and incense does for your world view.
Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn’t extend it so far that repeated firearm failure when faced with marauding supernatural foes becomes fun. That has been my day, and for the love of all that is worthwhile, why does it seem that reality and unreality have joined forces to make my life miserable? I do find myself inevitably drawn to continue, however, by what I can only describe as righteous bloody annoyance. The only thing that annoys me more than a crooked cop is one that is doing his job right, and since I’ve not seen one of those enthusiastic pricks for a while, the crooked ones are going to get the full impact of my irritation. You’ll see why in a moment.

After a nice awakening, we went to the Clockwork Court, which I suppose we can cross off our “Things to do in Sinophia Magna” page (not to say we’ve been sightseeing, Inquisitor, but there are some rather dramatic places in this city where we’ve had gunfights). Titus was hobbling happily along in a new leg brace, and things were looking nicer by far than they had the night before. We had a little trouble at the door, because apparently we’d already arrived.

Constantine’s boss was kind enough to meet us at the door, and deal with our little guest list problem. That’s when the shooting started.

Rushing into the Court (which is spectacular by the way, but we had other concerns by that point), we saw flocks of nobles being slaughtered by a pair of corpses armed with pistols, knives and explosives. The Arbitrator had rushed off to protect the Judiciary, so I figured it was up to us to halt the rotting menaces.
Luckily, I had made preparations for just such an eventuality. Working under the assumption that these were corpses animated by some external influence, I figured that the best way to deal with them would be to light the unnatural bastards on fire from a responsible distance. Which I did, with great aplomb. Unfortunately, being set alight didn’t have the dramatic and immediate effect I’d been hoping for, and one of the two things tried to rush us, while the other readied a grenade. Ravia wanted to shoot its head off, and I was really hoping she would. But when a gun goes click instead of bang, things change very quickly. “This never happens to me!” she cried before dropping the rifle.

Clever corpses. Clever flaming corpses. Now, I thought the tide was turning against us, and fired another parting shot and trusted the flames to do what they do best. I’d just darted heroically into the cover of a crowd of nobles whose elaborate shoes seemed to have prevented their escape when Ravia did something unnecessarily epic.

The non-flaming creature hurled its grenade. Our heroine hefted her sheathed sword, and struck the explosive as it arced through the air. Titus had the sense to make for the door, while I hit the dirt amidst a forest of dresses and pantaloons. The pantaloons were not shrapnel proof, but luckily the people within them heroically shielded this Inquisitorial agent from harm, and having thrown off the company of a badly wounded fop I shot the flaming creature again. It still didn’t fall down… until Ravia cut its leg off. Then it fell down, and we ran for the door as it triggered its incendiary device, which conveniently only incendiaried… incendiarized… burned it.

So there we were, calmly readying our weapons, as the other thing pelted towards us with murderous intent. I took careful aim… and the round jammed. Must be the rain, I swear that never happens to me either. Luckily Ravia and Titus were on task, with her removing its kneecap and him giving it a few rounds in the body. We then collectively expended a small shop full of ammunition, and that problem immolated itself also.

We managed to find the Arbitrator General, who said that he’d managed to finish off one of the creatures, but not soon enough to save the Judiciary or anyone else bar himself. He then departed, possibly to put the city under martial law.
We gave the Judiciary’s office a quick look over, and all of them looked very surprised to have las wounds in their foreheads. They naturally didn’t resist when we appropriated some of their belongings for further testing. I also checked the charred remains of their apparent assailant, who had a little las gun conveniently near him. Smeared with ash, but unburned.

I think its time we paid Haarlocks Folley a proper visit. I have some very violent questions I’d like to ask.

Signing off,
Nache de la Mer Chemical


GM_Tim Quorg

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