#the infernal saxophonist

[zeebreezin]

Practicing some character design with a background NPC: meet Flavian, the Infernal Saxophonist. A master of infernal brass and the Circle of Sevenths, Flavian made his fortune off making dubious deals with soldiers during London’s war against hell, all of which ended up with a few more of London’s military secrets in his lap. Ever since, he’s been working double duty - both on tour as a Saxophonist, and as the horn blower that signals the infernal hunt. …He’s also the war-profiteering butch that owns Laurence’s soul.

[iomadachd]

2.

Powers:

Infernal Eye

Ghoul Summoning

Knowledge of Blood Magic

Strengths:

Charismatic

Talented Singer and Saxophonist

Extroverted

Adoring

Confident

Pride in family line

Weaknesses:

Arrogant

Self-absorbed

Sister Imperator

Unfaithful

Easily manipulated

Senile (later years)

[dndwithaerin]

Part 3 - The First Bell Rings

Two days on from Laura’s misadventures in the slums, she and Orlaith brought Sean to LeStrand’s to examine the campus and see if study of magic may interest him.  The look on Sean’s face made it apparent he had never seen a structure so extravagant, with its many buildings, vaulted covered walkways, and brilliant towers.  Laura’s first plan of action was to seek out the head of the school’s Magi-musical studies department, Professor Zwiggums, with whom she had been acquainted just a few days prior, though without any classes in said line of study, Laura wasn’t actually certain as to where he could be found.

The first group of students she sought assistance from, a gaggle of three blonde-haired girls, were all to quick to brush her off.  And they were all named Heather?  I suppose birds of a feather…  

The next student she approached proved much more helpful.  A young man in a striped shirt by the name of Michael, who just so happened to be an enthusiastic saxophonist for the school’s band.  Sean’s expression lit up upon hearing of the boy’s speciality and he immediately requested a demonstration of Michael’s skills.

The ensuing saxophone serenade was less than spectacular.  Michael’s ability left much to be desired.  Inspired though, was Sean, who swiftly swung his guitar from his back and began playing along.  It seemed Michael was more adept as a follower than a leader, for as Sean’s melody picked up, Michael’s fell right in line, and they performed a beautiful duet.  So beautiful in fact, that a number of passing students were struck with awe at the performance, some even driven to tears.  

The impromptu concert concluded, Michael was more than happy to lead the way to the auditorium in which the professor currently found himself.  Unbeknownst to Sean however, a figure from his past was  also there to see Zwiggums, seeking entry to the academy.  

David Dingleberg, a gnome sporting shocking blue hair, wielding a wholly unique instrument, as if a pipe organ, guitar, and steam engine came together in a holy musical act of fusion.  It was apparently called an “Orchestratron”.  Both Sean, and surprisingly Orlaith as well, were visibly off-put by the device, though Laura was intrigued by the near cacophony, unlike anything she had ever heard, similar to the noises she had heard during a demonstration of magical electricity being arced between two metal coils, a far cry from the plucking of strings or the blowing of horns, wholly unnatural noise billowing steam with every note.

As his performance ended, he immediately took notice of the group that had gathered near the stage, his eyes in particular gravitating toward Sean.  The words they exchanged felt pointed as daggers.  Obviously their history ran deeper than the others knew.  Was David from the slums as well then?

Seeking to resolve the verbal assault, and taking notice of Sean’s instrument, the professor suggested they settle their animosity with music and magic, invoking the ancient tradition of the bardic duel.  Sean was too eager to take the stage, as Zwiggums produced his flute to summon ambience to accompany the ensuing battle.  Storm clouds roared and lighting crashed, as the vision of a stormy mountaintop enveloped the stage, and with no further delay, they began.

Spells flew back and forth, quicker than even Laura could keep up with, accompanied by words of vitriol and disdain, painting a vivid image of the pair’s history.  Sean’s classical guitar held valiantly against the unholy wails of David’s machine.  Early in the confrontation, with a blast of the Orchestratron, the billowing steam extended as tendrils, restraining Sean’s movement. Bravely though, Sean battled through, losing no ground to the mockery being hurled at him, yet still unable to free himself from the steam’s grasp.  Just as Sean was able to free himself though, David began to lift in to the air, not by magic, but by a system of wires and pulleys, and a sharp, intense sound from the infernal device, as if like an arrow, shot directly at Sean's guitar, forcing him to lose his grip on the instrument, in effect forfeiting the contest.

Though demoralized by the defeat, Sean’s spirits were lifted by the words of his rival, unexpected as they were.  Simply, “You know, you didn’t suck”.  Despite the defeat, through the heat of battle, the animosity of their rivalry may have given way to a newfound sense of respect, however begrudging.

With Zwiggums agreeing to let Sean sit in on classes for the day, Laura and Orlaith continued on with their normal schedule, with intent to reconvene at the end of the school day.  For Laura this entailed a lesson in arcane artifacts, in particular powerstones, wondrous gems capable of harnessing magical energy as a conduit for casting spells, without expending ones own spell slots.  Orlaith’s day, conversely, consisted of a lesson in tea leaf reading; one of the more open ended methods of divination, and one she didn’t find particularly interesting, useful for mostly natural phenomena.

The two met up with Sean and Michael outside of the music building after classes had concluded, but just as they were beginning to discuss further plans, perhaps involving a pary being thrown by the band students, an unseen voice came from behind, speaking in low growls and hisses; the language, Laura knew, to be draconic, which meant it could be only one person.  Killian Bosh, the one and only president of the Dead Languages Society, the very same club to which Laura belonged and was treasurer, their pastel colored puff of hair becoming visible in a snap, as they dispelled their invisibility spell to reveal themself right at Laura’s side.  Ostensibly there to discuss the costumes for their end of term dramatic performance, they found themself with an excellent opportunity for some light ribbing.  For what would Laura, an upstanding noble engaged to be wed, be doing going to a party accompanied by a pair of hitherto unknown boys?

Laura introduced her relatively newfound friends to the exuberant club president, who proceeded to chastise her for missing a meeting, having no way of knowing she was a little busy fighting off an insectoid horror in depths of the slums, but why would that thought even cross his mind?  He had come to inform them that the groundskeeper, Oren Oseah, had something of suspected draconic origin to show them, correctly imagining the club studying dragons and their language might just be interested.  Killian seemed to gravitate to Orlaith, as a new face with well-developed erm… assets.  Laura did her best to stay Killian’s advances, but was unfortunately distracted as Sean asked her to fall back a ways so they could have a chat.  At least Michael was there, though she knew he probably wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise.  

Sean was concerned with the matter of her engagement, arranged marriages being unfamiliar to the denizens of the lower rings of the city.  Laura explained it as best she could, that she, along with a sizable dowry, were essentially being traded to the family of Lynden Taylor, son of the head of the Imperial Military, in exchange for their association and connections.  The young man from the slums struggled to grasp the concept.  She didn’t blame him.  It felt archaic to her, to put it kindly, though she would regularly use more colorful language to describe the situation.  She further explained that she would be meeting with her betrothed for the first time at the end of the week, at threat of death from her father, though that was a bit of an exaggeration.  Her nonchalance at describing the situation left Sean a little dumbfounded, but he still offered an ear, should she need to vent after her date.  She was grateful for that.

Arriving at the groundkeeper’s shed, they opened the door and were surprised to see Blirix present as well.  Apparently he had been summoned by mister Oren to attend to an issue in the school’s steam system, and, while lost on the grounds, noted quite a few instances of disrepair around the campus.  Surprisingly, the one who ultimately directed to his destination by none other than the academies elusive headmaster, Quattro, a mysterious man rarely seen, sporting a silver mask covering most of his face, around which many rumors swirled.

But more importantly, the dragon business.  Oren took to the storage room to fetch the artifact.  Killian, taken aback at why the pair of young noblewomen would be acquainted with a goblinoid such as Blirix, was left even more stunned as he described the situation they had found themselves in just a couple of days ago in the slums.  A type of beast absent from most encyclopedias, a snake-like body with the torso, head, and scythes of a mantis, capable of eviscerating a man with a single swipe.

As it turns out, the foreman that had shielded them from the brunt of the monster’s assault, was none other than the brother of groundskeeper Oseah, a fact revealed as he returned to the main room, carrying an object just a bit larger than a breadbox.  Held within, to the untrained eye, would appear as nothing more than an ovular stone flecked with iridescent particles.  Intriguing to look at on its face, but according to the man Oren had won it from in a card game, it was a genuine petrified dragon egg.  If this was true, it was nothing short of a miracle!  Dragons had been extinct for centuries, some even believing they were merely beasts of legend that never existed in the first place, their “language” simply a cover for rogue factions.  

Blirix had a look at it, even though his eye was normally trained to feats of smithing, and unexpectedly, the small green man cast a spell!  Laura was able to spot it as an Identify spell, however, when questioned on it, denied the knowledge of it or any spellcasting ability.  But she was sure of what she saw.  It was definitely spellcraft at work.  An artificer maybe?  Though he had had no magical training that she was aware of and artifice took years of study.  Could his faith in the forge and craftsmanship have reached some sort of higher power?  Clerics normally only served the church, believing only in the Empire’s one God.  This was now the second time she had witnessed him cast a spell, only to have him deny any knowledge.  There must be something there.

He identified the stone as none other than the groundskeeper had said.  A dragon egg.  Killian attempted to convince Laura to make an offer on it, but before a deal could be made, they were told of the troubles Blirix had been asked there to help with.  Apparently a student had been mucking around in the belly of the school’s steamworks, and inadvertently summoned a number of steam elementals, mischievous beings commanding both fire and water.  After hearing word of Blirix’s dealings with his brother, Oren sought the verdan’s help in this ordeal.  Feeling a debt to be repaid, as Oren’s brother’s sacrifice had allowed the rest of them to live, and averted major chaos, Laura and Orlaith volunteered to help with this errand, tacitly roping in Sean as well.

What will the students truly find in the school’s depths?

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[ghostcultmagazine]

Ghost - Live at Royal Albert Hall, London

  Back in June when Swedish retro/goth/prog rock act Ghost announced a one-off show at the Royal Albert Hall, the news caught many off guard and swiftly caused the internet to burst in a torrent of bitterness. Triggered instantly, a horde of permanently enraged keyboard warrior types leapt into battle with Caps Lock buttons at the ready, proceeding to inform the internet in the strongest possible terms that, “they'll never sell that many tickets”, “they're nowhere near that big”, and “it'll be hilarious when they cancel”. Oh, and of course, the now almost delightfully traditional war cries of “they're shit”, and “they're not metal!!”

So, over the course of two extremely brief presales and one slightly lengthier half an hour of general sale, the tickets ended up flying out of the gates faster than a speeding shitpost, leaving the naysayers - and also, unfortunately, thousands of unlucky punters – disappointed in the desperate rush to grab them. And so, with the show just three (albeit infuriatingly long) months away, and newly purchased tickets printed and at the ready, the waiting game had officially begun. With an almost tangible sense of anticipation (as well as no short supply of blatantly undisguised smugness at ownership of the hottest tickets in town), the crowd gathered outside is peppered with fans in elaborate costumes and detailed make-up, some every bit as good as the real thing. Inside the venue, people have already begun to take their seats in the boxes and stalls, even though there's nearly an hour before the band actually arrive on stage.

With around half an hour to go, the strains of 'Klara Stjärnor' by deceased Swedish jazz musician (and, just for you, fact fans - the father of Anders and Jens from Hammerfall) Jan Johansson, and 'Miserere Mei, Deus' by Italian composer and priest Gregorio Allegri are piped into the sumptuous arena, and a noticeable sense of urgency begins to take hold as more people edge their way onto the main floor and into their seats with keen expectancy. The lights finally go down and a deafening roar erupts as album intro 'Ashes' (featuring the spooky voice of Minou Forge - daughter of frontman Cardinal Copia aka Tobias Forge) quickly segues into the first of the night's huge anthems, the infernally irresistible 'Rats'. With the audience already fully enraptured and in full voice, the first half the band's two-hour-plus set continues with a rousing 'Absolution', a thunderous double-header of 'Ritual' and 'Con Clavi Con Dio', both from the band's 2010 debut Opus Eponymous (Rise Above), and a mighty 'Per Aspera ad Inferi' from 2013 follow-up Infestissumam (Loma Vista). https://youtu.be/LgxwCQVW1bs After a short breather in shape of instrumental 'Devil Church', the band deliver a crushing version of 'Cirice' involving yet another huge crowd sing-along, and a thumping 'Stand By Him' before launching into one of the highlights of the whole evening. Simply one of the best hard rock/metal instrumental pieces since Metallica deliberately misspelled 'The Call of Ktulu' back in 1984, 'Miasma' is welcomed like a conquering hero and sounds nothing short of magnificent, the quite hilarious entrance of guest saxophonist, Papa Nihil sending the exhilarated crowd into near-orgasmic musical overload. Ending “Act I” with an acoustic version of 'Jigolo Har Megiddo', another massive sing-along for newie 'Pro Memoria' and a dynamic 'Deus in Absentia', the band leave the stage to rapturous applause, fans aware the next twenty-five minutes of intermission will probably feel as long as the months of waiting it took for the gig to arrive in the first place. https://youtu.be/sIYh7QtQnRY With undiluted enthusiasm, everyone is safely back in their allocated positions as Jocelyn Pook's 'Masked Ball', taken from Stanley Kubrick's final movie Eyes Wide Shut slowly fades out and the band tear into “Act II” of the show with the sublime trio of 'Spirit', 'From the Pinnacle to the Pit', and 'Faith'. The opening of 'Year Zero' is met by the sound of five thousand people completely losing their shit, and that same sound continues after a brief interlude for 'Spöksonat', with Ghost's very own torch song, 'He Is'; the sight of hundreds of mobile phones and cigarette lighters being held aloft making for a wonderful sight. https://youtu.be/RJBMy1-CPhI 'Prime Mover' and the band's “only really heavy song” 'Mummy Dust' follow, the conclusion to the latter accompanied by a huge eruption of brightly coloured ticker tape exploding from either side of the stage. The lighters and phones come out again for a wonderful cover of Roky Erickson's 'If You Have Ghosts' before the crowd are lifted to another level yet again by the positively climactic double of 'Dance Macabre' and 'Square Hammer'. All previous sense of decorum has been completely forgotten in the seated area now as the crowd are on their feet everywhere, singing jubilantly to Satan at the top of their voices whereas the night before the exact same venue had played host to the rather more reserved festivities of that old English staple of classical music, 'The Last Night of the Proms'.

With the band having left the stage, Cardinal Copia reappears, walking deliberately and slowly back to his microphone. Taking his time in the spotlight, he stops for a moment, says thank you and goodnight and walks straight back off again to a chorus of lighthearted boos. Strolling casually back across the stage almost immediately, he playfully asks, “did you just boo me?” Eventually reappearing, the Nameless Ghouls (now having been introduced in suitably comical style) ready themselves to play 'Monstrance Clock', the final track of the night, preceded by the increasingly talkative Cardinal telling the still highly exuberant audience about how the song is all about orgasms and how he'd like everyone to go home and give themselves one while thinking of him. Apparently, he'd also like to have sex with each and every one of us in the park outside: an awfully nice offer for sure, but one that most people in the hall politely decline. https://youtu.be/skohXq_vUwA As the slow filing out process began, not a single voice of disappointment or even mild discontent is to be heard anywhere, none of the usual post-gig shakes of the head or mutterings about sound, lighting, or which personal favourite had been excluded. Nothing. Just polite thanks to the utterly bemused but smiling and gracious staff of the Albert Hall, accompanied by an already growing feeling of anticipation at the prospect of the band's next visit to these shores. Too soon to call it a classic? An exaggeration to refer to it as legendary? Not a chance. Just ask anyone who was there. GARY ALCOCK Read the full article