This letter must date to the period before Fresser was exiled by
Moonson but the exact date is unknown.
Dearest Felicitus,
Thank you for your last letter. That juicy little bit of gossip you
passed on has proven MOST useful. You asked how the Emperor's last progress went. It went
well for the most part, a bit dreary at times, all that tedious ceremony you know. I say
it went well for the most part and I'm sure that from Moonson's viewpoint the entire thing
went well, lots of tributes, lots of accolades, nubile virgins, gold, magical gewgaws,
etc., etc. The part that didn't go so well from the viewpoint of the rest of his train was
the visit to Alkoth. (May the Goddess strike me down on the spot if I even consider
setting foot in that place again. What a nightmare it was (and I mean that quite
literally)). We approached the place from the north. I have never seen such a sight,
absolutely enormous walls reaching far into the sky. We saw it from many key miles away.
The locals say the walls are actually Shargash's girdle and having seen them I believe it.
I swear on my mother's grave that there is no structure in Glamour that you would be able
to see if it was transported behind those walls. The walls are covered on the
exterior with giant runes and strange carvings which it is not safe to pay too much
attention to.
As we neared the city a delegation of the locals came to greet
Moonson. They acknowledged Moonson as the representative of Yelm and gave him a
formal welcome to the city. Since the city is actually in the Underworld and entered
easily only by the most powerful or those able to enter the Underworld naturally most of
Moonson's entourage would have been unable to enter the city without the aid of a charming
ritual the Alkothi have devised. Because of this most of His entourage was left in a
camp outside of the city but a small group of volunteers accompanied Moonson. Why
did I volunteer? Because it is my duty and my joy to walk beside Moonson (well, all
right some distance behind Moonson). As we neared the gate guards grabbed us and
dragged us before some priests seated on chairs made of human bones and hair. The
priests examined us both magically and mundanely looking for signs of evil or chaos.
Finding none the one examined was then dragged to a large block of some substance
that looked like ivory. The person was forced down onto the block and held there by
two or more of the guards. A headsman stepped forward and with one mighty blow
brought an axe made of reeds down on the person's neck. The victim spasmed and
shrieked and thrashed around like someone actually beheaded and didn't stop screaming
until they were dragged over in front of a bronze mirror and forced to confront their
image head intact. One of the priests fastened a collar made of twisted reeds around
the person's neck and they were ushered inside the city. I say the guards grabbed us
but of course they did not lay hand on Moonson or the Arch-Cenobite. They were going
to do the same ritual to me but Moonson interceded and told them that my mother was
perfectly capable of looking after me. After a quick exam they agreed and let me in.
I braced myself and entered the city in Moonson's train. I felt the usual
disorientation of travelling to other worlds and then I was in the city. I
later spoke with one of the Yanafali who guarded Moonson and asked him what he had
experienced when he was "beheaded" by the reed axe. At first he was
reluctant to speak of the experience but after some cajoling and some stiff drinks he
finally told me the following.
"I saw no reed axe when the Alkothi dragged me to the block.
What I saw looked and felt like a real axe. When the axe descended I felt it
bite my bone and part my flesh. I felt great pain and I saw the blood gush.
Somehow I even saw my head fall to the ground, I know it sounds ridiculous but that's what
I saw and felt. I didn't stop screaming and thrashing until I saw myself whole in
that mirror. I will never forget that and I have died before in battle and
returned. This was different. I saw myself as whole in the mirror yet I still
felt as though dead and separate of body and spirit and did so until I left Alkoth."
Because of the towering walls it is almost always perpetually dark
in the city. The locals are forced to rely on artificial light almost constantly and this
just adds to the charm of the place. Upon entering the city you are immediately
struck by three things (if one of the locals doesn't first strike you with his mace, more
on that later). The smell, as the whole city has a carnal reek (due to the omnipresent
funeral pyres), the fact that every single male in sight, whether child, adolescent,
mature male or doddering elder are all armed, and thirdly the oppressive atmosphere. The
atmosphere doesn't seem to affect the locals, nor did it affect Moonson or the
Arch-Cenobite (and why would it affect that bastard?) but it did affect the rest of us. We
had been warned against using any magic that would allow us to sense or communicate with
spirits as the place is said to be rife with the spirits of the slain. All of us followed
the warning but it didn't help one of the more overly-sensitive Deezola priestesses who
was driven raving mad by what she characterized as the incessant pleas for surcease by the
lost souls crowding the place. (She seems to have made the switch to Jakaleel quite
successfully though the constant giggles and shrieks of, "Stop tickling me!" are
a bit much to take). Even I, who has never been accused of being overly sensitive could
feel the oppressive weight of the dead there. (In fact I had miserable, terrifying dreams
the whole time I was there). Moonson had left most of the healers camped outside of the
city to spare them the stress. As oppressive, miserable and scary as the city was, it was
nothing compared to the Alkothi themselves. Actually, the run of the mill denizens of
Alkoth were not too bad (well compared to your average follower of Danfive Xaron
say) it was the omnipresent Shargashi that were bad. Imagine if you will a dark, gloomy
city, infested with unseen, unsettling presences and reeking like the charnel house it is.
Bad enough no? Well, then to make the image of hell all the more real add some hellspawn.
Picture hordes of cold eyed, dark, curly haired, bearded hellions armed to the teeth
stalking the streets and the picture is complete. The Shargashi look at everyone not of
Alkoth as a potential sacrifice to their dark god. (In fact Moonson was greeted with the
sacrifice of a hecatomb of "prisoners", all volunteers we were assured. The
screaming seemed to indicate otherwise). The Shargashi are very proud of themselves, their
foul city and their dark god. They take great pride in their appearance and all of them
have long curly hair. The adult men all have great curly beards hanging to their waists.
They take their honour very seriously. Any slight, real or imagined was enough reason to
start a fight. We lost two Scimitars before Moonson sent the rest of them out to guard the
healers.
When it came time to leave the city (and not a moment too soon let
me tell you) the entire train passed by a red and black pillar set up beside the gate.
Atop this pillar sat a wizened old mystic who looked down at all who wished to
leave and passed judgement on them. He had milky white eyes yet you could feel him
looking deep within you. He asked all who sought exit whether they had committed
crime or sin while within the city and all who answered nay where allowed to leave.
I asked one of the attending guards what would have happened if anyone had said yea and he
told me in a rumbling bass voice that they would have been dragged to something called the
Enclosure and given to Shargash. I shuddered at the thought and was glad that I was
blameless. As we left the city we saw Yelm's blessed brightness once again and all
save the Arch-Cenobite shouted praises to Yelm and seemed gladdened, some to the point of
hysterical giddiness. Moonson of course was unmoved though He too offered praise to
Yelm. My informant the Yanafali told me later that exiting the city was like being
reborn in the sense that he finally felt whole in body and spirit again.
Unlike the other stops on the progression Moonson was not gifted
with anything I would personally consider all that interesting, unless you consider gilded
skulls, war trophies and dejected prisoners of war to be interesting. All in all I
consider the whole visit to be the low point in my journeys. Of course I have yet to visit
Dorastor...
Yours as devotedly as is expedient,
Fresser
This page last modified March 17, 2000
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