A Skull Full of Souls

“My gods! It’s always just so cold down here.” Said the gnome, walking down a stone hallway. He wears a simple priest’s brown robe, though it is made of a rich, warm, fuzzy material. His brown mustache and beard are well-trimmed, but a bit mussed. Almost as if he’s been playing with them absent-mindedly all night. His hair and ears are hidden by a fuzzy cap, with its sides covering his ears and fastened by leather ties under his chin. His shoes are leather slippers, the toes pointy. In his hands, he holds a steaming mug as big as his head, full of coffee. As he takes a sip, his round, thick bottle cap lenses fog over. He grumbles and waves his hand, causing the clouding to vanish. Alain Tandymere-Argent Bookbinder Clergyman’s Clan of Verdanmount City, Primus Malleus of Salvatore’s Service, looks nothing like the head of a church. Yes, he wears a funny hat, and yes, his clothes are cut in the style of ordained vestments. But he looks more like a solitary priest, trying to stay warm as he minds a quiet mountain temple in the dead of winter, rather than one of the three leaders of the order of knowledge. The only sign that he is anything more, apart from the unusually warm and luxurious fabrics, is an ornate golden necklace. It bears the markings of his church: Seven hands, each holding a sigil representing one of the seven gods in the pantheon. Below the hands is his mark of office. A book with a tattooed hand wielding a hammer striking a sword on the left page, and that same hand dissecting a monster on the right page. The tattoo on the hand is the same as one of the seven symbols of the church. This symbol is a burning eye. The eye represents Abithan, the God of defeating evil through knowledge.

Alain pays little attention to the paladins saluting him as he passes. Not because he thinks them beneath him. If they did caught his attention, he would probably greet them by name and ask about their family. No, he’s just had an inspiration about how he might be able to enchant minor trinkets and jewelry to project a haze of psionic energies that would hinder the perceptions of mind-reading monsters. Much like the way that the steam from his mug fogged his glasses. Psionics have been on his mind a lot lately. Unsurprising, considering his current project.

Ahead of him, at the end of the long hall of laboratories and holding cells, two more paladins salute him and open the doors. Still deep in thought, Alain continues past, mumbling. “If I were to specify that the emanations were to be random thoughts and intent it might confuse their ability to predict the wearer's actions, but wouldn’t that raise the enchantment tier and expense? Hmm, perhaps if it were a set sequence that repeated, that would–” The guards smile. Their stern professionalism cracking as they stare fondly at a man they know is dedicated to preserving their lives. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, one follows him inside and stands at attention, waiting to report. The other shuts the door, returning to his vigil. No one will disturb the Primus on his watch.

Alain nods to himself, pulling out blank vellum and sketching his plans for his minor telepathy jammer enchantment. Finally finished, he grunts with satisfaction, takes a sip of his no longer steaming mug, winces at the lukewarm coffee, and waves his hand over it. Steam once again rises and the smell of coffee fills his nose. He breathes deeply and moves to pull out his chair. He stops, blinking at the paladin, and then laughs. “Oh dear, I did it again didn’t I Saindrel?”

The paladin salutes. “Indeed Father.”

Alain sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so rude. I hope the men can forgive me.”

Saindrel chuckles. The Felisian paladin shakes his helmeted head. “Sir, you must think nothing of it. Everyone here knows how hard you work for our safety. The fact that when you aren’t distracted, you greet everyone by name and remember every detail of their lives is more than we could have dreamed. And none of them begrudge being ignored, knowing that whatever you’re researching may be the next weapon or defense that lets them make it home tomorrow. It is an honor to be here, and an honor to defend your research.”

Alain pauses, turns a little pink, and clears his throat. His big glasses magnify his eyes, making it very hard to hide that he’s blinking and tearing up. “That’s very kind of them.” Maybe I should bring some treats from the bakery to show them that I appreciate it.”

Saindrel smiles. “I’m sure they would be grateful, but it’s unnecessary, Father. Just keep being you. Shall I give my report?”

Alain nods, sitting in his chair and eying the chest inside the containment area in the corner of his office. “Please do.”

“Knight Astlan reported that she removed the subject from the chest as ordered. The subject made no overt hostile actions, nor attempted any magic. She also noted it seemed relatively unintimidated and unleashed a constant barrage of uninterrupted and unfiltered chatter. It was undeterred even when threatened and roughly jostled. Her conclusion was that he seemed completely locked down but incredibly annoying. She strongly suggested some form of telepathic earplugs, or better yet, a gag.” Saindrel fidgeted, and Alain smiled and waved for more. “She also nearly screamed the question ‘Why-why does a telepathic skeleton have a lisp? It makes no sense!’ Then she requested a day of leave so that she could go relax and purge the annoyance from her soul before she punished a bystander for reminding her of it.”

Alain frowns and gives Saindrel a worried look. “I hope you granted her request? You know how important her objectivity is?”

Saindrel smiles. “Yes sir, I did so on your authority.”

Alain smiles. “And of course, you also assigned a surveillance team to her?”

“Indeed sir. As planned.”

“And?”

Saindrel shakes his head. “I’m assuming you want to maintain her privacy, so long as nothing suspicious occurred?”

Alain sips his coffee, once again frowning and waving away the fog forming on his glasses. “As is policy.”

“She behaved exactly as we’d expect her to behave if she wasn’t under any enchantment. No strange meetings, no dead drops, no erratic actions.”

Alain beams. “Excellent, that means I need to add no extra precautions before interacting with the subject. Fine work, Saindrel, you may go.”

Saindrel salutes again and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Alain sighs and stretches. His four-foot form elongates and contorts. Then he walks over to the wall where three suits of armor and two clockwork soldiers stand. He speaks in high celestial, “Activate units, authorization code Primus three ever-vigilant.” The suits of armor suddenly fill with glowing red light and move smoothly into the square-holed cage encompassing a quarter of his massive lab. One of the armors grabs the chest and sets it on a stone slab. Another places a metal post resembling a coat stand into a slot in the stone floor. At the same time, the clockwork automata draw their ornate maces and shields and stand inside the cage. Finally, The last suit opens the chest and reaches in.

“Oh, thank the godsh!” The moment the lid opens, Julius begins chattering. “I don’t think you guysh undershtand how awful shenshory deprivation ish. I’tsh jusht sho boring. You shee fleshy brainsh can make shtuff up. Hallushinationsh and fake shtimuli. I can’t do that! If I didn’t have ush to talk to I’m pretty shure I’d already have gone mad! Pleashe don’t closhe that lid again.” While the sack of bones chatters, the armor grabsthe bag and hangs it on the post.

Alain nods along with Julius’ words. He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. “So, you’re saying that sensory deprivation is extra detrimental to your kind? That prolonged periods of nothing would degrade mental capacity, possibly permanently? Interesting. Oh, where are my thoughts today? Activate transcription.” He gestures at his desk and a quill and parchment begins scribing notes. He quickly summarizes the last few seconds to the quill and then turns back to Julius, warming his hands on his large coffee mug.

“Yesh! That’sh exactly what… I’m…shaying. Hey, why did you phrashe it like that? It sheemed a biiit, ominoush.”

Alain frowns a little. “I daresay it probably was. I am sorry to say, sir, but I’m afraid you’re going to find our time together very unpleasant.”

“Oh.” The skull’s eyes dim in disappointment. Looking left and then right before brightening once again. “You know, you don’t actually need to torture me. I’m confushed ash to why you’d kidnap me anyway. I’ll happily tell you what you need to know. I know your church dishlikesh me, but I alwaysh thought you did good work. Before you shtarted trying to kill me that ish.”

Alain nods and gives him a compassionate look. “I do expect it looks rather bad from your side of the bars. I am sorry, you don’t seem very monstrous to me. But that’s irrelevant. I’m not a villain. I don’t intend to give you any information beyond what’s required for my work. Such sloppy actions are for those who care nothing of consequence.” He sips his mug. “Suffice it to say, your personal temperament and moral inclinations are largely irrelevant. Your mere existence is a threat to all living and every moment you are intact is a step closer to a catastrophe of world-ending scale.”

Julius blinks. “What?”

Alain smiles sadly. “As said, I have no intention of giving away information. But I will say, at least your death will either prevent this catastrophe or–more likely, give us the tools to fight against the complete destruction of everything we know and love.”

Julius tries to shake his head. But only succeeds in shaking the bag as his hips are still resting on his skull. “Wait-wait! You can’t jusht leave it like that? What catashtrophe? I want to help! You don’t need to deshtroy me. I like people! I don’t want them to die!.Pleashe, we can figure thish out!”

Alain nods and smiles compassionately. “A true shame indeed. I rather think I would have liked you.” He turns his attention to the glowing armor standing next to Julius. “We only have one subject, so we have to make this count. Let’s start small. Fish out some of his toes.”

Julius thrashes, translucent azure flesh morphs and flexes all over his bones as he tries to make a form that can resist. He cries out in discomfort as a gauntlet punches through the aetherflesh sundering its integrity. The gauntlet grabs a few digits and begins pulling. “No, you don’t!” Julius cries, creating his hands and trying to grip the gauntlet with his left as his right pries at the fingers. But it’s fruitless as the arm yanks back. Julius moans in pain as his hands discorporate and his fingers scatter on the floor of his cell.

Alain tisks and gives another command to the remaining armors. “You, do your best to restrain it without damaging it, and you, gather any parts that fall out and place them in the chest for later use. Any unattended pieces are a security risk and must not be allowed.” He moves to the cell door and pulls out an intricate set of magnification lenses attached to a pair of goggles. Removing his hat reveals pointy ears and several inches of mussed gray-dusted brown hair. He puts on the goggles and opens the cell door. He steps inside and re-locks the door. Then he moves next to the stone slab and motions for the glowing armor to place the toe bones down. “These inscriptions are so fine and intricate. You really are a work of art.” He doesn’t touch anything. Merely holding his mug while adjusting his lenses. Instead, the armor manipulates the bones. Handling them with great dexterity. “This metal inlay, I don’t recognize its composition. What is it?”

“Fuck you.”

Alain nods. “Not helping then. I understand. Sample testing it is then.” The armor pulls a tool from its belt. A small cylindrical handle with a glowing stone at one end and a spindle with a toothy blade at the other end. With a tiny flicker of magic, the blade spins and the gauntlet descends to cut off a piece from the bone.

“No! Shtop! AUUUUUGH!” Julius sobs. All of his souls scream as part of the scaffolding that they rely on is cut into. Willow in particular still remembers her body, her instincts tell her she should be crying, and the others agree. A blue rendition of Willow’s face forms over his skull. It isn't perfect as it isn't her skull but Orgthar's, but blue tears run down her cheeks as she screams in pain and the loss of another connection to her old existence.

Alain pauses and blinks at her. He was unprepared for the sight, and his will shook. He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re so alive, it’s hard to remember that you are an abomination. Your creator was evil. How could someone be so monstrous as to murder multiple people and then graft them onto a patchwork amalgam of their bones?”

Julius whimpers, taking a moment to recover from the pain. Just as Alain is about to start again he speaks. “You’re no better than him. Maybe even worshe. At leasht he only experimented on thoshe who came to kill him. You cut on a creature you don’t undershtand. One who never intended you any harm. You’re shcum.”

“Yes, this is rather unpalatable. I doubt I’ll ever recover from this. May the gods forgive my actions for I never will.” He looks sadly at the skeleton. Wiping an actual tear from his eyes. “I know you can’t understand. I refuse to explain, after all. But I do apologize, and I will never forget what I’m doing. I’m sacrificing both of us to save all of them. My damnation and your life in exchange for a chance. Yes, I will pay that price. I will pay it gladly, and accept this burden. I will tell you this. I–I will turn myself in after I complete my work. I will admit my crimes and explain to your friends. Does that help?”

Julius feels that the selfless answer would be yes. His logic says that a noble sacrifice would be better than being tortured by an unrepentant zealot. That a true moral person would allow themselves to be sacrificed to save the world. But he burns with rage. Orgthar refuses to die off the battlefield. Such an ignoble death would shame his ancestors, and he wants to destroy this little man. Willow refuses to believe that such a poisonous act would bear fruit as a healthy and moral path, and she burns with fury that someone would so callously reap her life and desecrate what little of her remains. She was a druid and she follows her nature. Her instincts scream to fight back tooth and claw. Voracity cares nothing for morality. It knows few things. But at this moment it thrashes. It burns at the thought of being dissected by food. It is of the eaters, and it is not prey. “No. It doeshn’t.”

Alain nods. His magnified eyes watering, full of determination and regret. He returns his gaze to the osseous digit and the cutting resumes.

Julius screams.

***

Carrie-Anne’s mind aches. Julius is her life. His spark is a fire, it illuminates her thoughts and expands her mind. Part of her knows that if he dies, so does she. So she’s terrified and angry when the spark of Julius goes dark. Panic fills her and she tries to fly away. Her instincts tell her to take to the skies. That death can’t take what it can’t catch. But Frog-Friend catches her. He tries to soothe her, but he doesn’t understand. She’s going to disappear. She’s going to disappear and Julius is gone. She tries to bite but his big webbed fingers pin her too well. She wants to flee, to seek Julius and make him reignite his spark. Terror is all she has known for some time. Each moment she expects to fade. To cease remembering what she is. That wouldn’t be too bad, except she’s terrified some part of her will remember. That she’ll be trapped in a partial mind. Never satisfied but unaware of why. Finally, she realizes that she’s fine. His spark isn’t gone, just dim and inert. She intrinsically understands that she’s too far away and wants to get closer. Time passes her friends rest, they force her into a blanket. She rumbles unhappily and wants to escape. She gets little rest and immediately begins to call for her release when she hears them rouse. Frog-Friend removes her from the blanket but refuses to let go.

Dimly, she registers that Frog-Friend and Danger-Bug are worried about Julius too. They take her outside, and her instincts to escape renew her struggles. But Frog-Friend holds her fast. Again, she settles. She begins to examine Julius’ dimmed spark. Desperate for it to ignite again and illuminate her mind. Slowly she begins to understand that their connection is quiet. Like he’s trying to talk to her through a mountain. Sensations are smothered until all she can detect is that he is still alive. Still, it feels like they are moving closer to him. Suddenly, his spark is gone. Her panic renews again and she’s thrashing. Frog-Friend stops and forces her to look at him. She realizes that she can still think, and the surprise allows her to hear his words. “Hwrrk, look, Carrie, I’ll let you go and look for Julius. Just please come back whether you find him or if you can’t. Hwrrrwwk, I’m worried too.” She looks at him and nods. She can come back, that should be ok, and it will free her to find him. He sighs and releases her. She cries her freedom into the sky as she takes to the air. The wind and movement soothe her fear. Allowing her to think and plan. His spark is gone. In its place is a void. She wonders why her thoughts are still illuminated and concludes he is still alive. The spark is gone but its shape remains. She flies over to where she last felt Julius. But there’s nothing. Slowly she widens her pattern, riding the thermals that rise from all cities. She sees Frog-Friend and Danger-Bug emerge from the building that Julius was in. She knows she should return but doesn’t want to, not until she has to.

Suddenly, Julius is back but still dim. Still, even his dim gleam is a flare of hope. She releases a joyous scraw and flies towards him. He’s only glowing for a few moments before his spark disappears again. But she’s found him. He’s under a familiar building. Big with tall spikes, gray stone, and colored glass. Finally, she’s willing to return. Frog-Friend and Danger-Bug will help. She needs them to handle the doors. Maybe she can get help from Pretty-One and Noise-Dancer as well. If Fuzzy-Grump is there too, the whole party can come. But mostly, she wants Danger-Bug. He’s strong, and Frog-Friend, he’s a good listener, and even better with that axe. She scraws in delight as she sees them moving slowly towards Julius. Pretty-One and several others are with them. She calls out with a greeting! Diving to get there a little faster! She has to tell them. She has no idea how they will listen without Julius, but they have to! Perhaps Frog-Friend will get it.

Fear grips her when the stranger in robes next to Pretty-One looks up at her, raises a hand, and sends a beam of yellow light shooting straight at her! She tries to dodge, but it’s so fast. It strikes her, entering her body and sending heat, jolting her every nerve. Suddenly, her whole body is prickling. Her wings ignore her, and she tries to scream, to flap, to live. But nothing happens, and she plummets toward the stones.