Author: Moe_Lane

Unholy Toledo! Please also note that the cathedral in question is being desecrated. Because, again, Unholy Toledo.

The Whore’s Fane
(Our Lady, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary Cathedral)
Unholy Toledo
(Toledo,Ohio)

Babylon was falling, but it had not yet hit the ground.

Under normal circumstances, the trip to the putrid jewel of the See of Iniquity would have taken no more than an hour. That night, it took two. There were desperate men on the streets that night, and many lunatics driven mad by the siege and palpable dread in the air. Several confrontations had ended in swordplay in the sullen dark.

 All three men were winded, but no more than that. Maddox and Nat were both seasoned fighting-men, facing wretches with rags for armor and snatched-up clubs for weapons; and, whatever else the Monsignor’s faults were, he was not shy about wading into a fight.

He stuck to his crozier, though, avoiding any expression of arcane power. “Others may be looking for us still, or they may be not,” he deigned to explain, after their second fight. “Even if we have avoided notice, I will need to hoard my magic for the trip below.”

He looked at both of them, then snorted. “Ah. You both have already guessed that our path was underground.”

“Yes,” rumbled Maddox. “It was that or try to go over the walls, and if I wanted to commit suicide I’d have done it three weeks ago and got ahead of the crowd.”

Gotta get back into this one.

The Eighth Sin

The food was wretched at the tavern, but even the cheapest beer was good. So was the marijuana, cocaine, and opium, but neither sensible fighting-man indulged in those. From the looks of things, there were few sensible men or women in the Eighth Sin tonight. The usual smells of depravity and stale vomit were fighting a losing battle against the reeks of despair, desperation — and fresh vomit.

That suited Maddox. He leaned forward, careful not to whisper or look furtive. “That trull you knew, before. How might we find out more about the thing she was holding for you?”

Nat was an old hand at the game of speaking without using what the Old Americans called ‘key-words.’ “I don’t know. She didn’t talk much about what she did, or where she was from. Just that she once served someone who had what we wanted to have. Without her, we’re on our own.”