13 - The Tower of Silence
The city wakes already, though the light of the slate-colored sun has yet to drop over the ravine’s crooked lip. All the white marble roofs are still in shadow. The pedestrians carry their lamps in the early hours. How much easier they are to follow in the hours of dark. Is one of those lamps your Lady? You should not have let her step out alone. No matter that she asked you to stay in this boarding chrypt. You have been made certain already that there is danger in Middlemoss. Certain too, that she will not find her stepson here.
The crack of sky far overhead is wet with lightning. From your place at the window, if you look down past the spackled window of your mausoleum, you see varied figures passing on the road.
| Half-Nose The man in fact has no nose. Only a tall, thin hole below his left eye. | Girl Dragging Canoe She walks with the front half of the vessel held aloft in her skinny arms. The stern rattles on the paving stones behind her. The bow, like an arching beak, protects her from the rain. |
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| The Coffee Seller He holds his lamp high in one arm, its yellow light sparkling in the rain, and with his other arm shakes a big jar of beans. | Living Bones At first you mistake this upright walking skeleton for The Late Poet. On second glance, however, you notice that the feathers in its hat are purple and gold, not blue and orange. |
As you watch Middlemoss’s people flit through the rain, one young woman in a soaked blouse of stone-colored cotton catches your attention. She shouts from hands that are cupped.
“They who live with the silence of the coffin, commeth. Clear the way. Clear the way I say! “Make way for they from The Tower of Silence. “Make way for The Monks of The Lidless. They make observance out of their Tower. “Pull those pigs aside. You behind the cairn; wipe off that grave soil from your scalp, you louse!”
Day must be well underway, if the monks are out. You should- No, there she is on the bridge. Your Blue Lady. You cannot see her face, through the rain, beneath her cloak. But you do not need to. You know her expression is sorrowful. If by Strength and Promise you could make her smile, you would. Strength and Promise - they cannot conjure her stepson. He is not here.
By the time you notice the threat it will be too late.
As your Lady approaches the end of the bridge, the line of Monks comes into view. They are four in number, hidden under oilskin cloaks. Your Lady stops and waits.
The monks, however, turn in her direction.
Before you can react, your Lady is grabbed and taken.
Whisking your Polished Steel from the table, clanging like an arsenal of swords pitching down a gully as you burst into the wet Middlemoss thoroughfare, you nevertheless find that The Monks of the Lidless have disappeared.
Your first step should be to the nearest wood plank bridge spanning the Middlemoss chasm. (Reminder: never look down when crossing the chasm.) You don’t know where The Tower of Silence lies, but your last glance of The Monks was as they crossed the bridge themselves.
When you reach the other side you’ll want to plunge into the tunnel streets burrowing into the ravine’s rugged face. The only lights are the lamps on passing pedestrians, and the occasional small yellow candle lightening a lintel above a vault. You can either use the Light of your Cat’s Eye Spear, or hop from pedestrian to pedestrian.
Regardless of how you enter the tunnels, you’ll soon become lost in Middlemoss’s dense suburbs. Don’t try to find the tower alone. Ask for direction.
Valance the Rat
Only a little way into the warren you come abruptly helm-to-face with a whiskered man. He is tall, but crooked, so that you see eye-to-eye. He wears a great velvet robe that drapes his long spine like a cloth over a table.
“Scratching in my turf, knight? “Ah! Keep that sharp weapon sheathed, please. Nothing meant by it. I promise. “I know what you’re after, after all. The Tower of Silence. But how can you find a Tower in here? “There’s shiny treasures buried here, in Deep Compost. “Bring me a treasure. I’ll tell you where to find The Tower.”
There are a few different treasures within the Deep Compost burg that will satisfy Valance’s bargain.
| Steel Gargoyle Hidden beneath a tangle of dead brown roots over an abandoned chrypt. No one cares if you take it. | Glowbug in Amber The shopkeeper who sells this curio tells you that a mancer imbued the bug inside with un-life before freezing it in amber. Unliving or not, the encased insect glows brightly. | Old Blacksmith’s Cinder In a chrypt in a far corner of Deep Compost, you will find a dry, crumbling mummy, wrapped around a glowing piece of slag. Despite its glow, the metal is quite cool. |
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Alternatively, instead of bringing Valance a treasure, you can consult with the Haruspex, Joole. Her shop is in Deep Compost. The price she demands is steep; Three stamped squares of Lady Horsehair gold. If you choose to pay, she will consult the ghosts of her prophetic organs, and give you The Tower’s Location.
Once you have your directions, run. You may be approached by a fallen knight seeking a duel as you march through the dark burg. Ignore him. You may pass a curious well with no lip, and a familiar lordly face in the water below. Ignore it. A stream of knock-kneed girls may beg for your Steel’s aid.
Ignore them.
Your Lady is in danger.
You emerge into a monumental cavern. You never knew a space of this size existed beyond the main Middlemoss gorge.
The room is a landscape and a skyscape. Three layers of hill-like stone rise until they meet the cavern walls. On the ceiling, wispy, bioluminescent red vines hang like glowing clouds. Like tassels of braided hair, they sway in a warm breeze blowing from a high cross-tunnel.
The red light shines down on pale mausoleums. Homes and shops, these marble monuments dot the hills. One workshop is a wainwright’s, and from it you hear the tap, tap, tap of a wooden peg being hammered. On another hill there is a small amphitheater. You see a trio of ballet dancers performing for a crowd.
At the back of the cavern, on a hill with only one structure, there is total silence.
The Tower of Silence
Shining brightly black like oil, reflecting the scarlet ceiling vines; the Tower waits. It rises from the farthest hill in the cavern. It stands alone. It punctures the stony roof.
You spot the tower just in time to watch a pair of monks enter. Before them they push your Lady inside. The steel tower door shudders as it shuts, but makes not a noise in the enclosed cavern. With a soundless click, somehow, you know that door is locked.
You consider charging the front door.
You don’t consider long, however, before a familiar voice reaches you from the shade beneath a nearby pediment.
R the Killer
“I knew you’d show. I spotted those monks dragging that melancholic damsel of yours, and I said, ‘The Steelclad’ll be along any minute.’ “Front’s no good. I’ve seen. Dozens of those tattooed silent gawpers inside. “Dozens, at least. “Now don’t sulk. I’ve found another way in. There’s an underground, a Wine Chrypt. Old. Silent. Maybe empty. “Me? Hehe, don’t worry your shiny helmet about it. I just need that shiny sword of yours. In case that chrypt’s not empty. “So? Team?”
Following R, you eventually discover an alley festooned in curtains of lichen, deep in the Middlemoss catacomb tunnels. The path is dim, clotted with spores. R lights a well-greased lantern, though he only cracks the aperture open for a sliver of yellow.
The Wine Chrypt
The Mailed Flayers and other high servants of the seven necromancer-gods spoke words to summon spirits down in certain, secret vaults, in the city of the dead that was to become Middlemoss, before this Time of Dying. These ancients needed their food (and drink) the same as modern occupants. They kept their liquor in a higher vault, nearer the surface. A vast catacomb of casks.
Nowadays only The Monks of the Lidless visit the old wine chrypt. They send to this chrypt their outcasts; monks gone blind. Wrapped in blankets of owl-feathers, bellies distended from the ancient wine that is their only comfort, these blind monks pound and lumber through the corridors under The Towers of Silence.
A word of caution: don’t open any barrels in The Wine Chrypt. They are filled with a stinking, sour, putrid grey fluid. You expect the wine serves the order in other ways than drink.
The best way to progress through the tohmb is to dart between the bulging casks of banded oak. Let R lead, he is quieter. You can slip past several of the stomping monks in this way, avoiding fights that would drain your stamina.
You’ll eventually reach a long and wide hall, with three rows of pillars studded in iron hooks. Curtains of varicolored silk line the black space. Sleeping quarters. No matter how stealthy you’ve been up to this point, the sharp ears of the blind monks will now catch your tread.
Be ready for serious fight. Anywhere from two to eight monks may be in the room at the time. There are three kinds of blind Monk of The Lidless, with their eyelid tattoos to identify the different kinds.
| Tuskhands Watch out for these ones. You’ll know them by the bristling, many-lashed, yellow eye-tattoos over their own eyelids. Their haymakers can put solid dents in your rusted plate mail. | Man of Dogs The eye-tattoos on this one’s body seem to glisten, as if each is beneath a shiny droplet of saliva. | Leaping Monk Former wrestlers of the order, probably, these monks will charge you headlong before jumping and trying to crush you under their flabby mass. |
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As the last monk falls, R the Killer flicks a string of crimson pulp from his Horned Morning Star. He looks angry.
“It’s that silly scraping steel you wear, tinman. “You’d stick out in the middle of a cymbal parade. “You’re a regular burglar bell to this colony of gawpers with high-strung hearing. “Let’s hope no one else heard. “Come on. We’ll be nearly under the tower now.”
From the room of curtains and pillars you’ll enter a wide chamber, divided by broad stone arches carved with the faces of staring owls.
Despite R’s desire, your battle draws the notice of other outcast monks. You find yourselves facing a charging quintet of rotund, wordless attackers. Their footsteps shake the stones. This group has had time to gather weapons; two carry sickles, the rest bear carpenter’s hammers. Though blind, they pick out your movements with surprising accuracy.
Five against two would be hard odds. Fortunately, both you and R are better equipped (and better trained) for melee. Your best strategy will be to retreat to just beyond one of the arching supports. This narrows the avenue of attack. The quintet will only be able to attack in duos and trios. It’s best if you take the right flank; you can then use your shield to block blows aimed at either yourself or R. R’s signature move is to crush and tear the kneecaps of his foes with his horned Morning Star. Whether they lower their guard to block, or take the hit and buckle, then is your chance to finish each monk off with a clean head strike.
With the monks dead, you proceed deeper into the Chrypt.
The Senseless King and Queen
By the light you carry you can see that the floor of this room is tiled in alternating squares of dandelion-yellow and ruby-red. At first, the room seems empty.
Two of the tiles slowly rise.
From the two black pits in the floor two “monks” emerge. You are not entirely certain that they are of the same order.
It is a man and woman. Their flesh is gossamer, their limbs macilent. Inked eyes of owls, goats, snakes, spiders, and a hundred other creatures coat the skin over their skullbones. They each wear a silver crown, and a loose white robe. Each holds a scepter topped in an iron hook.
Though their real eyes are shut, both their faces turn toward you. Their lips peel back like snarling dogs; their waxy, square teeth show, yet their snarling is silent.
The two false monarchs raise their scepters in unison. Then, they level them at you.
Then, they attack.
You will need all your skill to beat this blind pair. Each has a different attack pattern. The queen uses hummingbird jabs, two-to-four in sequence, followed by a single stroke of her hooked instrument. Watch out for that hook; it can easily rip away your shield. The king only uses swings (also fast) but from a variety of angles.
Your best tactic is to parry their blows while retreating. Blocking works, but the king and queen recover so quickly that it gives you no time to retaliate.
When your Steel first bites papery skin, it has little effect. Though gaunt of frames, these two are un-living, and surprisingly sturdy.
R can distract one of the two monarchs, but his Horned Morning Star is less effective than your Polished Steel Longsword. Additionally, the king and queen move in a kind of lubricated *slide*, as if on ice-skates, and you’ll find yourself switching opponents often.
The key to the fight is to knock the scepter from the hand of the king or queen. When you do, the deathless monk monarch will bend to retrieve their symbol. From there, it’s simple beheading.
Take care. Killing one is half the battle. Even outnumbered, the king and queen are still fierce fighters.
As the last monarch falls a muzzle once more slips over the atmosphere of The Wine Chrypt. Finding a circling stair at the back of the checkered chamber, you ascend.
How dangerous must the Monks of the Lidless be if these are their outcasts? These ones in this Chrypt have gorged on sickening wine. Half alive; yet they fought like rhinos. It is not a life you should ever aspire to, granted their hidden strength. Blind and drunk; existing in stillness that is like deafness. What must be their thoughts? Abstract and spare; a psychological inner space; a place of no oaths, no ‘next duty’. Where do they store their dead? Surely, you have never seen an epitaph ‘Monk of the Lidless’ on That Road.
R the Killer’s hiss breaks your contemplation.
“Steelclad: best make less clamor once we’re in The Tower proper. “It’s your fault. Their blood’s on your conscience. Oh, fairly enough, it is dripping from my Horned Star. “We’ll fetch your droopy bluebell yet. The mum ones above can’t have noticed us. They’d have thrown the bolt on that heavy oak door we stepped through just now. “Recall I have ends of my own. These monks have a mirror, it is said, that quiets one’s thinking. Worth a penny to a man with night terrors, and too-full pockets. “I have the buyer; I need the mirror.”
This killer tells you he has a patron, wants a treasure. Should you trust his word? You have seen him fight. He lays men out for the grave with no care for the wholeness of their soul. That is what you have heard. That is what the man himself says, that he is a killer. Yet never has he wronged you. Your grail and his have been of the same metal. You have taken upon your Pinecone Crest Shield a blow or two that would have slain this killer, and he has killed men who meant to kill you. Is it right for you, with your shaky soul in your cracked-cup body, to judge him? The way he speaks about your Lady; that is what rankles most. His weapon as well. Only men without heart carry the Horned Morning Stars.
As you reach the three-hundred and thirtieth step of the spiral staircase, you emerge from a floor well. Peeking carefully up, you find an intersection of four halls.
The Silk Carpet Path
Here your footsteps will make little sound. A ribbon-pattern of blues and whites stretches around the curving corners of these corridors. Most rooms are private dormitories for the monks. Each room has a strange podium in it, with a steel statue of a different bird perched on each pedestal. You can take exactly one statue; the owl is the most valuable. Taking more than one will attract a curse from the ancient Starshadow which watches and maintains The Tower’s haunting.
From the moment you first tread on the silken carpet, the correct sequence of turns to take is: right, left, straight, straight, up the first stairs on your left, right, through the door with bronze bands (past the first door, with horizontal copper bands), straight.
It is worth following R’s injunction to make less sound. Pad your armor with a bolt of cloth from one of the monks’ chambers. Drawing the attention of the monks is sure to be fatal. You will have to dodge a few patrols, but the halls are only dimly lit, and the alcoves, crammed with tall potted flowers of an unusual color, offer ample hiding space.
The Tranquil Theater
The silken carpets end abruptly at a flat stone wall and a T intersection. Both tunnels lead to the same place.
You find yourself in a huge, ovular room. The ceiling is black above you. On one wall a balcony draped in velvet runs hauntingly empty.
Forty rows of stepped chairs fall away before you. All the chairs face a stage, hidden behind a curtain woven from the dresses of disinterred orphan girls.
The chairs all sport pairs of shackles. In one, your Blue Lady is bound. She raises her head at your entry.
“I hoped you’d seen them take me. I hoped you would find a way inside. “Such a burden am I to you, knight. I’ve drawn the both of us into this shaded town, for what? For that crack I see on your vambrace? “I see. You came with that man we met before. “Is the blood on his Morning Star for my sake? “These metal clasps hold my wrists against this chair. I heard the monks step behind that curtain before the locks clicked shut. The mechanism must be back there, though I cannot say what else you will find. “Please free me. It is past time we set our feet on The Road.”
You’ll need to go behind the curtain that hangs before the stage. There is a small gap between it and the wall, by the short stairs on the left. The space behind is unlit, so bring a candle. R will refuse to follow you.
Behind the grey cloth the stage is stacked with objects precious to the Monks of the Lidless. A blanket of dust tells you that few feet tread here. Watch out for the rats with quills bristling across their backs, which crawl among the items. They are harmless if not provoked.
The lever which unlocks the clasps in the chairs is hidden under a shroud. You may have to check a few of the shrouded objects. Take care; each covering pulls away in a cloud of dust, and each cloud of dust has a fifty-percent chance of afflicting you with one of the following diseases.
| Dustheels Every step is agony. | The Red King’s Curse You know this bloody doom too well. |
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| Meerie’s Weeping Affliction A torrent of endless tears blurs your vision. | Scattles Shaking and shivering, your numb extremities move as if in slow motion. Lasts a year minus one day. |
When you step out from behind the curtain, your Lady stands. She dusts her blouse. R applauds, silently.
“I’d never set my toes in the dark and sacred place of a monastic stage. But you seem living still. “I heard a resurrection man in one of the drinkhouses say that this tower’s got an owlery. They say it crosses a skybridge, and opens onto the heath. “My square coins say our safest route out is up, not back through those deformed cellar-gawpers. “Before we step too far, though, I’ll recall to your mind-”
R continues to speak for a moment, by the motion of his lips - but there is no sound.
From the two doors of the T intersection that leads into the theater, a slow light spreads. Like lime-colored flower petals of some creeping plant. You, your Lady, and R, duck behind the seats, peering between.
The lime-colored light broadens on the left passage. Its petals spread over the walls of the theater. You see now that the walls are shiny, covered in a sap-like slime.
Eleven Strokes with The Old Man Below
A floating lambent orb slides into the room. Your skin prickles, you recognize the sphere.
R the Killer knows too, and he runs.
The glowing orb zips like a bolt. You drag your Lady down low. Soundless, the light passes.
You sprint from the row. Between the chairs.
Again; zip. You turn. Block.
Will-O-Wisp
The sense-killing Will-O-Wisp is one of the deadliest of the dead. Small wonder The Monks of the Lidless bind them to guard their Silent Tower.
Abandon stealth for the present, your first priority must be escape. The Will-O-Wisp moves like a shot arrow, darting brightly. Never look directly at the orb; anything longer than a glance will blind you.
On the positive side the muffling nature of this glowing hot soul means you’re unlikely to make much noise until you escape. If you escape. Your only chance it to block its frequent charges, whenever you “feel” that vibration in the air. Your sword is worthless here; the wisp is incorporeal, the only way to destroy one is through necromancy.
Fortunately, Wisps wear themselves down quickly, and dim as they do. This one’s charges will becomes infrequent as its energy is expended. If you can manage to block six or seven shots, you should survive.
You are forced to stop and catch your breath. Between gasps, your Lady whispers.
“You were quick with my family crest, and on your feet, my valorant knight. “But luck also blessed us. “Othelmedir once told me only a fool or a master tries to subjugate a Will-O-Wisp. Their light makes them dangerous. “I’ve seen no fools among these Monks.”
R, swallowing past his exertions, gives your Lady a cunning look.
“By my soul, this can’t be the same lady you serve, steelclad. “This one’s not so dreamy in the brain, not so senseless of speech. “She’s right. Something worse than tongue-tied celibates must control glowing spirit. “Could be more too. “Clomp softer.”
Choose one of the three routes that lead to The Owlery in The Tower of Silence.
| Chain Lift You step out onto the corner-landing of a stairway. It creeps round the wall of a massive square room. The floor and ceiling are hidden in blackness. There is a single chair, too far out to reach, hanging in the central space. If you choose to follow this route, you will want to first head down three flights, then back up seven. The door on the tenth flight up will always lead to The Owlery. (Warning: watch out for frenzied bat swarms here). | Landscape Wing This long series of corridors is lined in broad windows, with thick green glass and heavy satin drapes. You know that you are underground, yet you see upon entering that each green glass window shines with light, and that each light is a different shade. Each window looks out on a different landscape: mountains, rivers, a wood. Take care here. Looking out of certain windows will draw the attention of the Will-O-Wisps that live therein. | The Scriptorium You find a T-intersection. The floor to your left and right both curve up and away. You soon realize two things. First, the hall is a circle. Second, gravity keeps pace with you as you walk the hall. The walls are lined in shelves of books, each book penned in a language which may only be written; it is unspeakable. Each door in the hall connects to another random door. You will have to try a few doors before finding the path to The Owlery. |
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No matter which route you take, you yourself should lead. Your Pinecone Crest Shield and rusted armor give you the best chance of withstanding a surprise attack, should you meet any monks or their guardian wisps. Let R walk behind your Lady, guarding the rear.
At some point as you traverse the Tower you are likely to stumble into the monks’ room of relics. This room holds the mirror R desires.
You’ll step into an ovular chamber flooded in four inches of water. Waist-high marble pillars stick up from the shallow pool, each supporting a relic.
When you enter you’ll find the room guarded by a heavily-eye-tattooed monk, wielding a man-length clever, and dressed in a cook’s apron. He’s not too difficult a battle, but he hits like a battering ram. R can dispatch this foe, or you can do so yourself.
Besides the mirror, the room contains: a Sturdy Gambeson, a Scroll of Centipedes, and a Green Potion.
R hesitates before retrieving his treasure. He inspects all around the pillar. Finally he reaches out and takes the item. He examines his reflection for only a moment, before frowning and tucking the item away.
When you finally arrive at the tower’s summit, R checks your hand as you reach for the beak-like knob.
“Test your Steel’s swing first, knight. “And you, madam, should stand back. “These monks have their callouses, their tough skin. But any fool with sense puts his fists up where he’s most vulnerable. “My square coins say this’ll be well-guarded. Make ready.”
You step through the door.
Your Lady’s cloak whips out behind her. The room is high and dusty. There is light; you see smoke swirling up from four piles of clumped candles, little flames flickering like clusters of spider eyes.
Your sabatons squelch into a floor littered with huge droppings. The stink pollutes your helmet.
Above, catwalks and beams and rafters form a spiderweb of wood. You see a single portal, like a barn window, shining with a different light. The light of day.
A moving shadow catches your attention.
The Lidless
Massive, never-blinking, like a heavy cloud in the dark - The Lidless swoops. It is a spotted owl, demented and mutated, huge and stretched, with a face half-human, and another half that is not a bird’s. But the eyes - all those eyes across its feathers, the two shining orbs on its face - they are the owl’s eyes.
The Lidless are malevolent winged female half-demon, born from two half-souls. They usually haunt churches, towers, and barns.
The fight begins with the lidless spinning as it enters its first dive. It turns its back to you, and you see the light-up spots across its broad wings. Keep your eyes off of this display; like the Will-O-Wisp, it will blind you. The Lidless will try this maneuver throughout the fight.
Dodging through the space will be your main activity the first stage of this battle. The owl droppings slow your tread. Keep away from the stone coffins scattered about the room. These are the graves of powerful blind mancers, and they will afflict you with weakness and sickness.
Your goal here is to endure. After a few minutes, The Lidless will fan its great wings, hurling itself airward, and screech. It is only at that moment that you will realize how silent was the fight until now. Your head rings, and the second stage begins.
You’ll want to head for the nearest stairs up into the catwalks. Keep a look out for huge, falling splinters. The Lidless will stop swooping, wary of your sword, and try to use its environment. With its jaw-like beak of square teeth it tears chunks from the huge wooden beams. It hurls these with startling accuracy.
Once you and R have risen to the catwalks, you can start positioning yourself to strike at the swooping half-thing. Neither your Steel nor R’s horned Morning Star inflicts meaningful damage. Something heavier is called for.
The key to beating The Lidless is to use its own weapons against it. Either remain in the catwalks yourself, or have R do so. This will encourage the monster to stay lower, near the floor. One of you must remain below, and draw The Lidless’s attacks. Specifically, lure it near one of the Blind Man Coffins.
Once The Lidless is afflicted with coffin illness, it will be forced to land. You can strike more easily now, although the feathers are surprisingly scaley and resistant. It’s possible to kill the monster with weapons, but unlikely. You will probably fail and die.
The better course is to draw The Lidless beneath one of the beams it has loosened. When the monster is in place, either you or R can crack the huge piece of wood loose, sending it plummeting.
As the impending beam drops The Lidless attempts a last swoop. Too late. The broad square spear punctures the owl-demon like a ballista bolt.
It emits a mind-shattering screech.
Then the silence is complete.
With The Lidless dead, you proceed to the outer skywalk. It takes you to the heath, beyond Middlemoss.