Brunswick, Lower Saxony...

...has a serious problem.

Matt Taibbi's latest

Matt Taibbi goes at it again. Via the Guardian.

Very good...

...we are done here!

Aftermath in Oversight

Judge Korvanova takes command. Mal and Rod receive first aid. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Zed can only think of the broken radio – judge Bladelord will rip his legs off for that one. Mal takes off his gas mask and has a look at his nightvision goggles. Great: Uziel’s last swing broke the lenses. That will cost a bundle. Soldiers put Zed and Uziel on stretchers and the whole group is taken to the Lock. There, Korvanova orders a thorough search of the men: The soldiers at the gate take their time – nobody wants to be the person who missed something while iron lady is watching. They find everything Mal and Dan secreted away, in inconspicuous holsters, small pockets and even secret compartments: knives, Mal’s tiny .38 automatic and, of course, Dan’s silenced 10mm Glock.
After this procedure, Mal, Rod and Dan are brought to the Oversight building, LAW’s administrative center and the seat of the tribunal. Korvanova takes their statements about the fight at Rome’s Hotel. She tells the men that they will be debriefed extensively as soon as Zed can take part. Until then, they are guests in the Oversight. They get red pass cards, and they know that they will be arrested or shot if they leave the building without a judge. Before they are shunted into the guest tract of the large building, Rod urges Korvanova to be very careful with Uziel. He tells her of his abilities, and of his lethal tooth-implant. She assures him that LAW knows how to handle such people. They spent two days in the spare rooms of the Oversight, together with some other people in transit, waiting for orders or just recuperating. Mal and Rod use the time to make acquaintances with two judges. They play chess, talk about Memphis, the tribunal and some of the squabbles between various judges. It seems the judges are not quite as united as they appear to outsiders, but then, there are factions even in the smallest gang. The hours pass slowly, but the men are in need of rest, so nobody complains.
It takes the physicians a few days, but in the end Zed, filled to the lower lip with painkillers and swathed in bandages, is able to return to his duties. Even before judge Korvanova starts her debriefing, Mal asks Zed to go look for his car. Zed does so, but when he walks into the small dead end, the Conquistador is gone. A burly LAW soldier rests at a wall and grins at Zed. “You’re looking for something, boy?” “A friend of mine parked his jeep here. Do you know anything about that?” “Oh, that one. You seem to be with us, so there is no harm in telling you. After the ruckus a few days ago, the iron lady had the whole area searched real careful. They found the car and were not able to crack the locks. They suspected an explosive gadget connected to the doors, so they followed the standard procedure. They towed the thing into the desert.” “And then?” “They blew it up. Standard procedure with explosive traps.”
“…”
“I’m just kidding. That would have been such a waste. They took the car to the Motor Pool. They have probably searched it top to bottom, but your friend can collect it there. You really jumped after the guy? From the second floor?” “Yes, I did.” “Good show!”
Zed thanks the man and returns to the Oversight.
The debriefing by judge Korvanova is long and very in-depth. The iron lady is highly critical of Zed’s performance. She makes it very clear that she, and she alone, is responsible for Memphis, and that she has to be the first to know about people like Uziel. While it’s primarily judge Stoneleigh’s failure to inform her, and Zed acted in good faith under Stoneleigh’s orders, he should have known that she, and not Stoneleigh, has the say about such investigations in Memphis. She lets him off with stern warning. Zed, who still nurses his wounds from jumping after Uziel, just nods and says “Yes, m’am.” Korvanova seems to have a better rapport with Rod. After questioning the benefactor about his voyage, she imparts that Uziel died when LAW’s physicians tried to extract the poison tooth. “It was filled with a very effective airborne toxin. Your story sounds quite wild, benefactor, but that tooth proves it. The doctors tell me that it was basically designed to be irremovable – not without releasing the poison and killing its owner. That such an infiltrator would target Memphis is an alarming development, and as he is not alone, we – that is LAW – will have to find out who backs him. I would like to station a strike jhat at the Institute, so that they can take care of the next false benefactor who steps out of the woods. But we don’t do that without permission, and I’ll have to talk it over with the others. If they consent, I would like to ask you to carry a message to your elders, containing our offer. It will also set down guidelines about the way benefactors should work in Memphis: No more skulking in Demeter or the Remnants. If a benefactor wants to heal people, he can offer his services at our two hospitals. He will get the best equipment this city has to offer, as well as food and lodgings. But no more secret doctors in my city.” Rod nods and replies “I think the Institute would be grateful for your support. I or benefactor Goodman could take your message.” “Very good. That leaves us with the small matter of illegal possession of firearms.” She turns to Mal, a small, bloodless smile playing on her face. “As you might have learned, we have impounded your car due to the ongoing investigation. As a standard procedure we searched the vehicle and found several guns that you don’t have a license for.” The two replacement MACs. The M1911. The Dragunov SVD. “There are also the guns you tried to smuggle into Uptown. As you do have performed a service for the city, I will just confiscate these guns and will let the matter rest.” Mal is dejected “But I thought it was okay to keep your guns locked in you car. That’s how I did it for weeks.” “Some judges think this usage is acceptable. I don’t. Things tend to get sloppy if you don’t enforce the rules. And that appears to be my job.” “But you didn’t impound the ammo.” “No, we didn’t. That’s yours…although you carry quite an amount. Anyway, let’s just say you can count yourself lucky that I don’t send you to the farm.” She puts four small piles of merits on the dented table. “Ten merits for each of you. The tribunal insists. Zed, this is a bonus. I don’t think you deserve it, but your heroics impressed the others, so there you go. The tribunal will need to talk about the proposal for the Institute. This might take a few days – you are our guests until we have set down a message, if you choose to. Now, gentlemen, thanks for your time.” The men are ushered out of the small room. Mal wastes no time to visit judge Stoneleigh, not quite angry, but very much in need of explanations and reparation. Judge Stoneleigh is in his small office, an antique Simpson chess set on a tiny table, the walls lined with books. He is inconsolable. He apologizes for the whole mess and recompenses Mal with a bundle of merits from his own stash. It is a lot less than the worth of the guns Mal lost, and while it is quite possible to retrieve the submachine guns and pistols in the Arsenal or in Memphis’ clandestine weapons market, the Dragunov has been snapped up by some judge. Stoneleigh cannot make amends.
Korvanova seemed to be hellbent on aggravating the scavvy, but Mal sees through her stratagem. She might target Stoneleigh through destroying his contacts outside LAW, but Mal is not that easily played. When he departs from Stoneleigh’s office, he is earnest but amiable. He has changed somewhat: The times when he shed blood for blood and went after his enemies no matter what seem to be over. Even a few months ago, he would have taken out Korvanova for this insult, at the cost of his own life if necessary. But people change, sometimes to the better.
A fortnight later, benefactor Goodman leaves Memphis with a message for the Institute. Rod is not quite ready to go back there, as long as there are still some riddles to be solved. He and Dan will go south, towards where the first false benefactor was headed. To the George Madison Correctional Facility, in the foothills of the Appalachians. Mal will take them there, and Zed will ride with them. As the sun rises over Memphis, the heroes are on their way.

Your job sucks?

It could be worse. So much, much worse.

Wies'n flea market!

Once every year, the Theresienwiese becomes Bavaria's largest flea market. It's like the Wies'n, only less drunk, and with a lot more rubbish. There are not many tourists, although I heard a lot of French this year. The atmosphere was friendly. When I turned up at 8:00 in the morning, the best deals had already been made. Later I was told that the buying and selling started the evening before, making those people who rose at 4:30 to make a killing appear lackadaisical. After looking at a few market stalls I knew that I was completely out of my depth. These were all professionals who sized me up in a second, gauging my desire for an object as well as the depth of my wallet. During one purchase, I really had the feeling that I was taking part in a play, where I had been given certain lines, and where the end of the play was ten euros, exit left. Next year, I shall wear a fake beard, that will throw them off. The Wies'n flea market seems to be the yearly gathering of the masters of the trade, those men (and few women) who make a living at this. I had the feeling that everybody knows everybody else.
I had very precise ideas what I wanted to buy. If it had been an original Carthaginian helmet from the movie Gladiator, a throne made from antlers and boars' furs or two identical advertisements for an obscure brand of cigars (Gruner Stumpen?) from two stalls on the opposite ends of the field, I would have been successful and very happy. On second thought: That would have been awesome accouterments for a post-apocalyptic throne room, together with all the stuff plundered from post-communist facilities that can be had for a few euros.
The way it turned out I saved a lot of money and bought some very sensible stuff: a cheese grater and a butter dish and some such. I spent about six hours on the flea market, after that, my brain just seized up. There is so much to look at, to examine, and most of it is discarded a millisecond later - too ugly, too expensive, not quite what I want, its very funny but it won't be in ten minutes, it looks nice now, but it will just clog up the apartment, putting this in your living room might send a very wrong message etc. This happens about twenty times a minute, and after a while, I just suffered decision making overflow. Everything appeared samey-same and uniformly ugly: a colorful mass of undesirable trinkets. I tried hard to concentrate to find the best tea mug ever (another objective sadly unfulfilled), but it all became a mass of rubbish. After six hours, I threw the towel.
Nonetheless: The Wies'n flea market is warmly recommended, just don't think that you'll get what you want. Bring hardy boots, something to drink and a fake beard.

Uziel

“So, where do we go from here?” Mal asks. The others ponder this for a second, then they decide to take a look at Uziel’s workplace and to inform judge Stoneleigh about their findings. Led by one of Leah’s bouncers, they find the garage of the Memphis Free Truckers fast enough. The streets are not as well lit as in the Union Quarter, and the air smells of oil, smoke and hot metal. Even though the day has long ended and the siren has announced the end of the shift more than an hour ago, the windows of the long building are still showing the glare of welding, and the sound of heavy machinery fills the place before the big roller shutters. The group takes a cautious look, but their quarry seems to have left with the siren. They move to the Lock and phone up Stoneleigh. The judge is a bit gruff – it is deep in the night – but when he is told of the latest developments, he tells the group to proceed, and to call for reinforcements if they find Uziel. The men drive back to the Gears and drive up to the Memphis Pyramid. In the Long Ago, this was a grand structure – a glass pyramid housing many big buildings. The top of the pyramid had fallen in long before LAW made Memphis their HQ, but the base of the building is still recognizable. LAW decided to leave the base intact and transformed the buildings within the pyramid into a formidable LAW bunker, housing five crews of hardened LAW troops to keep peace and order in the volatile Gears. Their commander is an imposing veteran called judge Bladelord. He meets the investigators in a sparse mess hall and, after making sure of Stoneleigh’s involvement, listens to their request without many questions. They get a bulky radio from the quartermaster of the Pyramid. Bladelord tells them to send a short message as soon as they have found their man, and he, as well as two squads of LAW soldiers will be there in five minutes. By now it is after midnight. Under the glare of the pyramid’s searchlights playing over the still surface of the Mississippi, the group decides to stake out the garage. They will be there before the break of day, and as soon as Uziel arrives, the signal will get out, and then, supported by some twenty of LAW’s finest, they will capture the false benefactor.
The next morning dawns. Mal has spent the night in the Conquistador, Zed went to the barracks in Uptown and Dan Hawking to the Terminus Diner. Only Rod has changed his sleeping arrangements. No force on earth will make him return to the place of his failure. He rather spends some merits on a single bed in one of the hotels in Union Quarter. The men have taken position about thirty meters from the big roller shutters, and they get a good view on the workers walking in, first the shift boss they met last evening in the Labor Bar, then some laborers in twos or threes, then, when the siren sounds the start of the day shift, a whole mob. Rod stares into every single face, and begins to despair. But there: a stocky bulldog figure, short black hair, and was that a flash of blue? He tells the others. They ask him if he is sure. He is not. He decides to go into the garage and have a second look. Gingerly evading the worker who might be Uziel, he walks up to the shift boss. The man is less than enthusiastic to meet the benefactor again. “So, what is it now. I’m busy.” “Excuse, I am sorry to be a bother. But maybe you could point out Loft to me. You know, the brawler. I have been waiting all morning for him to turn up, but I wasn’t able to spot him in the crowd. I would really like to meet him.” “Yeah, me too. He ain’t here yet. Two weeks, he turns up as regular as a clock, and now he’s an hour late. Maybe he is sick.” Rod’s heart sinks. The quarry seems to have gone to ground. The worker beside the shift boss, busily wiping down an engine block, chimes in. “But you could visit him in Rome’s Hotel. That’s where he stays. It’s in the Remnants, big place, everyone can show it to you.” Rod does not wait a second. He basically sprints to the others. “He has a room in Rome’s Hotel, that’s in the Remnants.” Zed spits. “That would have been my first guess. Lots of folks who don’t like LAW move in there. A shame we didn’t look there yesterday evening.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, fucking shame, let’s get to the car everyone, time’s a-wasting.” The Conquistador starts and rolls into the Remnants, that warren of buildings from the Long Ago, their frames sagging, the streets clogged with rubble. Mal parks the vehicle in a silent dead end, and the group assembles before the entrance of Rome’s Hotel, a five-storied building from the Long Ago. Mal thinks that it probably was used as an office building. Now it houses dozens of laborers and other people who don’t have the merits for Union Quarter. Zed moves into the twilight of the lobby and quickly spots Rome, a heavy-set, bald man in his fifties, sporting a walrus mustache. Two broad suspenders and a weapons pass are the only things that cover his breast. He is very unhappy when Zed shows the papers telling that he belongs to a Jhat: In this house, LAW always means trouble. He recognizes Loft from Rod’s description, and he tells the investigators that the young man does not seem to have left his room today. He also tells them where that room is: two stairs up and right across the hall. Rod swallows: Uziel is just two floors away. The group creeps up the stairs, Dan Hawking checking his old hunting rifle and fixing a bayonet, Mal pulling up his armored gasmask. Rod draws his Taser and whispers “I promise it’s the last time that I broach the subject: But I want to stress how dangerous this man is.” Zed answers “I kick down the door and try to take him alive. Mal and Rod to my left and right. Dan, with the rifle, on the stairs. Keep the doors in view. Time to take this sucker down.” Down the stairs, they hear Rome racking shotgun shells into his gun.
Then, Zed is before door, and his boot crashes into the wood. The door flies into the room, and Zed gets a glance. No window. A disheveled bed on the wall across from the door. Some kind of makeshift laboratory contraption on the table to the right. A man, coiled like spring, black hedgehog hair, eyes like blue splinters, pulling up a panel from the floor. Zed shouts “Stop! LAW!” but the man lets go of the panel and smashes through the left wall into the adjoining room to the left. Of course, Zed thinks, as his ears register a soft ping from the panel, the crafty bugger weakened the wall. Like in his old place. Can’t have enough emergency exits. He screams “Grenade!” At least the other are up to spec and shift their attention to the door to the left. As Zed jumps back, Mal puts his boot against it, grimacing, as he feels his poor back shift. The door springs open, and Mal retreats. Rod steps into the doorframe - this room has a window - and fires his Taser at Uziel. The darts hiss into the floor, a finger from Uziel’s feet. The man is as quick as a snake. Then, the trap in Uziel’s room blows up. A powerful thermite charge detonates and turns everything in it into ash and slag. There is no real explosion, rather a rushing sound, and intense yellowish light flashes into the hallway and through the hole in the wall. Hot smoke pours from the room. The false benefactor twist around to run for the window of this chamber, but already Zed swings in, trying to get his hands on him. Uziel lets him get close, grabs Zed’s belt and shoves a small, metal tube at him. A weapon, Zed thinks, and deflects the jab. Uziel drops the object, and Zed swings his hooked leg at the false benefactor's knees: a swift move to kick Uziel’s legs out under him and take him into a scissor. The false benefactor ducks away, leaving Zed floundering on the floor, jumps towards the window and a shot rings out. Dan, having maneuvered to get Uziel in his sights, decides that enough is enough, and drills the man through the middle from the hallway. More falling than jumping, the false benefactor drops into the street below and rolls off in the sand, a small hole in his left shoulder. He plucks another small object from his belt. While Dan starts to sprint down the stairs, Mal runs to the window, both MAC11s drawn. He sees Uziel jumping to his feet under the window and empties his two sub machineguns into the street below. Dozens of dust plumes kick up, spent shells fly through the room while Mal tries to twist the stream of bullets on the dodging form of Uziel. He is lucky: A red spurt erupts from Uziel’s left leg, and he falls. He rolls on his back, as if to take a sunbath, the small metal gadget in his right hand quite visible. The thumb comes down, and the metal tube in the room above blows up.
It is not a powerful bomb, as explosives go, but most people in the room are very close to it. Zed and Rod are caught by the blast and smashed against the walls like rag puppets. Mal is a few feet away from the device, and well protected by his envi-armor. But the blast lifts him up and out of the window. He drops two stories and does not quite roll like the false benefactor. But his spine holds, barely. He lies there, just for a second. The false benefactor tries to get up on his good leg, when something big and smoking falls on him: Zed is not quite ready to give up yet. Dizzy and deaf from the blast, his body riven with pain, he shoved himself to the window, over the edge and onto his prey. With a last push of his legs, he jumps and his aim his true. He lands on Uziel, both men taking further damage from the impact. But Zed pins Uziel. Then, blessed unconsciousness. Mal grits his teeth and drags himself towards Zed, while Uziel is struggling to get out. Mal pulls a syringe of doc miracle from a small leather tube on his chest and stabs it into Zed’s leg. Uziel, still hanging on, uses this opportunity to pull a slender, long dagger from his boot and drag it across Mal’s gas mask, shattering glass but not wounding the scavvy. While they fight, Dan Hawking arrives from the second floor. He raises the rifle, tries to put another round into the struggling Uziel, and hits Zed instead. The Kevlar vest takes the brunt of the damage, but Mal fears that Zed is bleeding out. Cursing, he draws his second – and last – shot of doc miracle and gives it to the man, while Uziel still tries to move Zed’s bulk. Dan, not the man to dwell long on mistakes long past, quickly steps up to the chaotic melee and takes his rifle’s butt to Uziel, punching him out, finally.
Two stories up, Rod feels life slipping away. He sees blood everywhere on the walls, and with trembling fingers, he pulls his Aesculapin injector (doc miracle to these savages). As the world turns grey and the curtain falls, he jabs the needle into his neck. With a feeling of a million pinpricks, life returns into his smashed body, as the Aesculapin works its miracle, knitting flesh and bone together. Shakily, he stands up. As soon as he is halfway sure that his burning legs will carry him, he stumbles down the stairs. He faintly realizes that there are suddenly other people in the hotel, heavily armed men in black and bulky Kevlar, displaying the letters LAW in white, their faces hidden by balaclavas, black ice hockey masks and ski goggles.  They move around him in well-trained formation, assault rifles at the ready. Car tires screech, and the street around the prone bodies of Zed and Uziel fills with LAW soldiers. Above them, Rome’s Hotel seems to be on fire. Mal, feeling every bone in his wracked body, has a sit down. Dan holsters the rifle and raises his hands. Rod, still giddy from the Aesculapin, just stares. Whether it was the explosions or something else, someone has decided to come and intervene, and has sent about two dozen soldiers. In their midst, a tall, white blonde woman in a black coachman’s coat, the feared three letters tattooed on her forehead, steps towards the wounded men. She gives them a look without sympathy and pity, sizing them up. When she finally speaks, her voice is harsh, loud and clear: “My name is judge Korvanova, member of the tribunal and in charge of security in Memphis.” She looks at Rod “You will tell me what happened here at once, and then you will be taken to Uptown for an extensive debriefing and, if necessary, judgment.”

What of Drizz and Yuri?

Patience, patience. I don't have the time to relate their adventures in the usual ornate style, so a short summary will have to do. They finally reached the isle of fire and the House of Dust and Ash, and even made some "friends" in Deadtown. Before the greater auction even started, they got rid of the bloodsworn (Vymer and Quill). They also got on the bad side of Greel, the Head Mourner, who sent thirty of his fanatics to kill the acolytes at a very lonely spot in the necropolis. Unlike in the adventure, the mourners carried some serious melee weapons. They still got cut to ribbons: As long as the fragmenting ammo in the Irontalons holds out, unarmored targets just get turned into bloody confetti. The heroes returned to the auction hall just as the Gilded Widow made her announcement. In the maelstrom of blades and bullets that followed, they took down Greel and got his amulet. They also destroyed/ pilfered many of the artifacts on sale. With the void shield up round the House of Dust and Ash, they tried  to get every able bodied defender into their group, finally showing their true allegiance to the Holy Ordos. This was also the point where they finally took care of abbot Tamas and his filth-worshipping chaos cultists. I also beefed up these guys a bit, but to no avail.
Finally, the acolytes got behind the secret of Greel's amulet and the tomb of Solomon Haarlock. They turned off the void shield and tried to flee the necropolis. Their egress was seen by Octavia Nile and her little coterie as the last chance to get their hands on the greyskin psalter. Supported by some surviving PDF troopers (and my very bad tactical judgment), the acolytes were able to defeat Octavia and her Ashen Tear assassin and to bring the surviving participants of this ill-fated auction to the waiting airship. As soon as they reached someone via vox, they asked for the wholesale orbital bombardment of the island. They will probably never know if their request was granted. Marr debriefed them thoroughly and took away a part of their new playthings, but left them most of the weapons and gear the had bought during the minor auction.

A few thoughts on the adventure:

- Several of the antagonists appeared to be quite underpowered
- Too many groups from the various conspiracies depicted in the main part of "Disciples of the Dark Gods" turn up. I cut out the Slaught, and still I had the feeling of too many different things going on. I could not make heads or tails of it. Next time, I would just beef up the logicians around Octavia Nile or make it two groups of the Logicians meeting up on the island
- Same with the artifacts: Too much different stuff to care
- The linear plot up to the auction led to some problems, as did the lack of explanations. Be prepared to think on your feet or railroad a bit, or someone might be left out when the void shield goes up
- I liked the setting a lot: A mixture between the cave cities in Turkey and the main cemetery of Vienna, just bigger

All in all, a good adventure, but sketchy in places, with too much going on.

The stars were not meant for humanity, and earth might not be either

A very interesting essay on the bleak school of science fiction by David Forbes, via coilhouse.

Labor Bar

The investigators find the Labor Bar easy enough: It is a big building, big enough for several hundred workers. The dayshift has just ended, and the hall is filling quickly with men in dusty and oily coveralls eager to slake their thirst. In one corner, shift bosses have put up tables and call out to the returning labourers: “Six days, three merits! Six days, three merits! Good work, happy work!” The group sticks out a bit, and the men seem at a loss, until Mal spots an old lady on a simple chair close to the main entrance. She sits straight, a slender woman of maybe fifty years in a simple, but sturdy dress. He watches her for a minute: She seems to be an uninvolved guest, but then he realizes that she is directing the barkeeps, the serving girls and the bouncers with simple hand gestures. He nods to the others “If anyone knows, it’s the old Betty at the door.” As he walks towards her, the woman spots him. A flick of the wrist, and, with a fluid movement, one of the huge, bald bouncers appears at her side, hand on a large bludgeon in his belt. She smiles at the scavvy in his sophisticated envisuit. Her teeth are perfect, and Mal can feel she is sizing him up, top to toes. “Well, hello there. My name is Leah Labor, and this is my bar. You will find no better place in the Gears to drown your sorrows and enjoy kind company. You seem to want to have a talk, sonny. Impressive armor, by the way. Now, tell me, how can I help you?” “Well, I am looking for an old friend of mine –“ “Old friend?” “Yes, very old friend, short black hair, blue eyes, lots of muscles, but not very tall.” Leah makes a show of looking over the churning crowd jostling at the bars “Well, that’s not very helpful, your old friend looks like thirty men in this bar alone. And another thing, sonny. You are not in the wastes any more. This is the city of the judges, and we do things the judges’ way. If you have trouble with someone, they handle it for you. I know it takes a bit to get used to it, but if your old friend wronged you, you should talk to a judge. Having a vendetta all by yourself makes them envious. It will land you a place in one of the farms. You might also end up dead.” She seems to be mildly offended by the whole exchange. Old friend indeed. “Yeah, I know, lady. I’ve spent some time here. Listen. It’s not quite easy.” He nods towards the back, where the others are looking on, among them the black form of Zed “The man is a killer. Very, very fast. Very, very dangerous. Quite able to kick a man’s head off. We would really appreciate your help, if you get my drift.” Leah thinks for a second, looks at Zed standing there, in her bar, then makes a decision. “I remember something. Two weeks ago, there was a fight at the Memphis Free Truckers’ garage, west of here. Not your usual brawl. Some of the mechanics wanted to teach a new guy a lesson, and he punched the stuffing out of them. Five burly grease monkeys against one guy. The fight seems to have lasted all of four seconds. Five men limped away with broken bones. That could be your man. That’s what I hear, anyway. See the long table over there? That’s where the MFT mechanics meet up after shift. I’m sure they know more.” Mal says his thanks and the men move to the table Leah pointed out. A large, middle-aged man with a preposterous red mustache seems to hold court here. His craggy face seems to have soaked up the garage’s black grease, every single wrinkle shows like a blackened line. To his left and right, oil-covered men put down their drinks and turn when Zed and the others appear at his table. Mustache grins mirthlessly at the group. “What’s up?” Again, Mal does the talking “I’ve been speaking to Leah Labor over there, and she told me that there was some kind of fight at your garage some days ago. I would like to hear more about it.” “What’s it to you? You with the judges? Ah well, yeah, there was a fight. New guy was ordered to help us in the garage. Showed up for two hours a day max, still got his merits. That’s just not acceptable, so a few of the boys tried to give him a nice n’tidy scrubdown in the oil pit. Well, he kicked their asses good. One of them had an open fracture. It’s a good thing the judges opened that hospital, Saint Brigid’s, in fancy quarter. And when you turn up with your arm hanging all wrong and the blood dripping down the bones glistening in the sunshine, you don't have to wait a minute. Turned five mechanics into bawling twats with their teeth all over the floor. Took him less then a minute. I thought we would never see him again, but it seems he was kept on nonetheless. And it worked out in the end.” “What do you mean?” “He shows up every day now, on the hour, regular as sunrise. Leaves with the whistle, but that’s his right. Pays attention to his work. And a smart fellow, too. Can readn’write n’all. I could use few more guys who can handle a notepad along with a spanner.” He eyes his company with slight reproach. “And the guy’s name is?” “Loft. He’s called Loft.” The investigators share a glance. They are closing in on Uziel, the false benefactor who calls himself Loft now.

Beautiful Desolation

A ships' graveyard in Mauretania, among other things. Via Coilhouse.

Further Research

After they gathered this information, the group returns to the Conquistador, but not before Rod has a look at the many stalls in the farmers’ market. He looks for some weed to scratch a certain itch, and is pleasantly surprised that LAW does not seem to mind that an old guy sells the stuff basically in the open, along with other roots, herbs and buds for your common household needs. Also, the price is more than fair: Being close to the Mississippi has some advantages.

The group quickly checks the hospital in Union Quarter, a very orderly place. It is basically a continuation of Uptown, but without the walls and the check at the Lock. One sees many well-clothed and armed people, along with the ubiquitous LAW soldiers keeping the peace. After shoving through the throng of sick and hurt people which constantly besieges the Saint Brigid hospital, they speak with a pretty young doctor called Vesper: No, there have been no new doctors here, and no new nurses, which is a pity because they really could use some help. After making a short report to judge Stoneleigh in Uptown and a lunch in one of Uptown’s community kitchens, they decide to try their luck at the border between the Remnants and Drifting Susan. It is, at the moment, the only lead they have.

When LAW made Memphis their headquarters, they decided to pull down all structures from the Long Ago and replace them with their own buildings: a new start in more than one way. But it takes decades and many resources to do this, and looking at the Remnants it seems that Law has just given up – for the time being. Rickety apartment complexes and office buildings from the Long Ago dominate the narrow and winding streets. Dangerous rope bridges connect the buildings, which have been repaired again and again – nonetheless, every year people are injured when walls cave in or bricks drop. The Remnants are a constant reminder that Memphis is not a new city, but stands on the ground of a necropolis from the Long Ago, and who knows what secrets this ground covers even today.

Further south, the plain is sprinkled with tents, ramshackle huts and vehicles used as temporary shelter, and also some old ruins used as workshops and market stalls. Small cooking fires burn everywhere. This is the shantytown of Drifting Susan, a collection of ragtag travelers. LAW has no patrol in this area, but they sweep the place now and then, especially if they need new workers for a road project or the prison farms. It is late afternoon, and the wide street between the two quarters is full of people. A LAW patrol moves through, while the group discusses their approach. The group quickly bribes some street kids to look for a muscular man with short black hair and blue eyes. The street vendors are also questioned, but only after a while the men meet an old scrap merchant who can help them. The withered crone remembers a strapping young man who bought some metal wiring and gears, a few test tubes and such stuff. She believes he was sent from the Gears to fetch replacement parts. For what? She doesn’t know. That was maybe two weeks ago.

So, Uziel really seems to be in the Remnants, but, as Rod realizes with a sigh, this is still a huge place, and finding him there is going to be very difficult. One could wait for the street kids to discover him, or for the crone to see the false benefactor in the streets. Not really prospects guaranteeing success. But Mal Porter remembers a place called the Labor Bar. It is a big place, an institution, really, in the Gears, and hundreds of workers spend at least a part of their evening there. Also, the shift bosses use the place to gather workers for the day. Maybe someone has seen him there, if he really poses as a worker in the Gears. As darkness falls, the men make their way towards the place.

Salzburg is WH40k!

Some people may come here for the Sound of Music, but with the right perspective, you will have an experience that is quite different. There is enough statuary and temples and whatnot to qualify for a decent shrineworld. If you know where to look, you will find skulls, winged skulls, bat-winged skulls, cherubs resting their feet on skulls, skulls with serpents writhing on and through them, statues of imperial heroes, of imperial saints, of imperial martyrs, of the demon cast down, and sepulchers to satisfy the most ardent of seekers. And, as with all that is holy and pure in the Imperium, the shadow of corruption and madness is never far away, for in a murky niche at the cathedral lurks the awesome coat of peace, an apparition making grown men blanch with fear and revulsion – the Changer of Ways never donned a more fitting mantle.

Salzburg is easily reached from Munich. It takes about two hours by train and, using the Bayernticket, even a destitute pilgrim may gaze upon these dreadful wonders. Highly recommended.

Benefactor Goodman

It takes about twenty minutes to get to Demeter: The streets are full of people and vehicles. The Conquistador overtakes a herd of goats, a LAW patrol and a tanker truck while Mal steers the vehicle along at walking speed. When they reach the quarter, most of the peons are already on the fields, and although the streets are far from deserted, the group sees only some playing children, old folks and a few housewives. They park the Conquistador in a shady side street and visit the Great River church. The resident brother can’t – or won’t – tell them, where to find this new healer, Rod and Dan also feel that the Christians in Demeter seem to follow a strange and different creed, with the cross wreathed in corn sheaves and the walls painted with the blue waves of the river. They seem to worship a kind of fertility god here, a god of the fields, and not Christ the redeemer, even if the young priest seems to be friendly enough. But the priest is not the only one who knows what is going on in Demeter. Zed has a contact named Great Samson, a vegetable vendor on the nearby farmers’ market. Here, many of the stands are still closed, but Great Samson is open for business. He seems to know Zed quite well, and he also seems to be quite nervous that Zed visits him. After some questioning, Samson tells the group of a house quite nearby, where a healer has been plying his trade for about a month now. He has attracted customers from all over the city, as will take only a pittance for payment and is said to be very good. And even now, you don’t have to wait for hours to see him, unlike in the hospital in the Union Quarter. Samson pleads with Zed to keep this information from the judges – the stranger has done a lot of good in the quarter, and nobody wants to see him exiled. Zed promises to do so. A short huddle is called: One month in Memphis – this could be Uziel, so extreme caution is necessary. The men move up to the house depicted by Samson. There, they meet a crowd of people, most of them probably from Demeter, but some soot covered men seem to be from the Gears, and Zed also recognizes two LAW soldiers, who have left their Kevlar and weapons at home. Many seem to be suffering from minor illnesses and injuries, others probably have come along for support or out of curiosity. Now and then, the visitors enter the cellar of the building, singly or in pairs, and return after some time. Rod and Zed get into the queue and Zed strikes up a conversation with one of the soldiers: The man is here to get treatment for something he does not want to become part of his record in LAW’s hospital in Uptown. The doctor seems to be quite good, astoundingly cheap and very discrete. Meanwhile, Mal and Dan have taken positions: If this is the false benefactor and he tries to get away, one of them will have a shot at taking him down. They see Rod and Zed step down into the darkness.

At the foot of the stairs, the pair sees a rather well-lit basement. Someone has collected enough furniture for a small living area and a sick-bay. Across from the entrance, someone has put up a small wooden crucifix. A small, orderly stack of books rests beside a mattress. The air smells faintly of disinfectant and incense. In the middle of the room is an examination table, covered with clean white cloth. An old man with clear gray eyes, wearing the robes of a benefactor, stands behind it, extending his hands in welcome and asking “So, who of you is the sick one?” Rod recognizes the face: This is benefactor Goodman, a widely traveled and very experienced member of the order. Rod, who was left his benefactor’s robes in the car, introduces himself as a fellow healer. Goodman asks him a few pointed questions before he is satisfied, but then, the two benefactors settle down to talk. Goodman is sickened when he learns of the tragedy that has struck the Institute and of the existence of false benefactors. He is bent on traveling back to Levamen as soon as possible, as the benefactors will need his experience in this time of crisis – he confesses that LAW would probably have thrown him out of the city in two weeks at le latest, anyway – too many patients, too many people talking. He gives Zed a look. He will wrap up his business as fast as possible and catch a railer clan going east in two days time. He also tells the group that there was a second benefactor in Levamen, about a month ago. A patient told Goodman of this healer, but when he went to have a look, the man was gone. While it is not unusual for benefactors to depart without notice, with view on current events this encounter takes on a sinister tone. Rod promises to visit Goodman before he leaves Memphis for good. Then, the group reunites and looks for the patient of the other benefactor – again, on the farmers’ market. They find the woman quickly enough, and although recalcitrant and distrustful, they learn of the place where this other benefactor stayed, if only for a few days.

By now, the group has asked many questions of many people, and someone seems to have taken a dislike to that. As the group leaves the market, they are followed by a handful of youths – teenagers, leisurely playing around with stones and farming tools. A trio of these young toughs approaches the group directly while others hang back, to see how things develop. One of the boys walks up to Zed and accosts him directly “You there, stranger. We don’t like you running around here and nosing around and asking folks questions. Why don’t you get back in your quarter where you belong, before you get hurt?” While the rest of the group gets ready for conflict, Zed just says “Three seconds, then you’re gone.” He doesn’t give the boy quite three seconds. The tough is like a puppet in his hands - a puppet shouting with surprise. With blinding speed, Zed grips one arm, gets the elbow into a painful lock, and handcuffs the tough. It is one fluid motion, like someone tying his boots. Before the tough knows what happened to him, Zed grinds his face in the dust, while even trying to wriggle out of Zed’s grip sends stabs of pain through the locked elbow. By now, Dan has readied his rifle and covers the other boys, who just stand there in abject fear. The teens hanging in the background have long since vanished. Zed starts a very quick question-and-answer session: Yes, Great Samson sent the boys to scare off the strangers. Demeter seems to be determined to keep benefactor Goodman here, even if LAW disapproves. Zed unlocks the handcuffs and sends the boys scurrying away.

At the address, they find a reedy old man who rented a room to the benefactor. The  renter has left these lodgings three weeks since, and he didn’t even tell the landlord of the hole he dug into one wall, as if to create an extra exit. And the old man has a further tale to tell: The renter, this benefactor, is still in the city. He saw him, not three days ago, on the road the divides the Remnants from Drifting Susan. He had shaved his hair, and was dirty like any worker from the Gears, but the old man is quite sure that it was him.

Rod falls from Grace

The whole evening, Rod has been flirting with a curvaceous railer girl working at the Terminus Diner. That’s what other people would call it – he would say that he just wants to get to know her, as part of his first trip into the wider world. She says her name is Lola, and she seems to like his bashful advances and his freckles, too. After the group separates for the night, she drags him down into the underground of the Terminus, into the Black Pearl Bar, where she seems to be rather well known. This is a wild place, dark and with loud, thumping music. In the red light, Rod makes out lots of railers, but also a distinct group of other travelers. These men have covered their faces with white paint, to serve as a canvas for all sorts of symbols – a red hand on the forehead, two blue stripes running across the eyes, a black lightning on the left cheek. Their armor is covered with garish, suggestive and violent paintings. The men seem to celebrate a raucous get-together, with bottles and fat cigarettes making the round. They carry enough guns to comfortably arm a group triple the size. Rod avoids eye contact, and notices that the other patrons also give this group a wide berth. By then, the railer working the bar has placed of bottle of tequila on the top and whispers to Rod while leering at Lola “Listen, boy: Old tradition with the clans – you bite the worm, and she is yours. She is a very good girl, yes.” Indeed, in the murky liquid, a small dark shape can be discerned, and with some pacing and a bit of help from the friendly bartender, Rod is indeed the one to swallow the worm. Lola takes his hand and pulls him out of the Black Pearl Bar and up to the top of the Terminus Diner, into her small bolt hole…

GM: Damn your wiles, you seduce her.

Player: But I didn’t want to seduce her.

GM: Guh?

Player: I just wanted to talk to her and have a bed for the night. That’s all. I am a catholic.

GM: (Didn’t see that coming…) Nubile young woman, young man away for the first time, all alone in the big city…Will roll please.

Dice: Fail.

All the demons in hell: Hahahahaha!

GM: As you sink into her arms…

A grey morning greets the shame of Rod the benefactor. Where is the sanctity of marriage now? How can he ever look a future wife in the eyes? If he is not able to withstand such a temptation, then it is questionable, questionable indeed, if he is the right one for such a trying mission. He casts a look full of disgust at the languid form sprawled on the bed of sin. Without waking the temptress, he gathers his belongings and hurries away from the Terminus Diner, towards the big station clock. The relic from the Long Ago shows a quarter past eight, and already the traffic on the platforms is brisk. Hawkers shout out their wares and the food stands’ business is good. Mal Porter, Dan Hawking and Zed have been waiting for him in the shadow of the clock, and they look well-rested and eager to start the search for the false benefactor. Rod feels their eyes upon him, an unspoken accusation, but they don’t bring up the topic of the serving girl which was so easy on the eyes, and the benefactor is grateful for it. Mal takes them to the Conquistador: “Let’s find this new healer in Demeter. If we are lucky, our hunt might be over before lunch.”