Starkesboro was an old Town, full of New England Colonial-style Houses, brick buildings, and church steeples. The harbor was small, filled with a number of smaller, fishing trawlers, and bordered by a pair of rocky headlands that gave the harbor a horseshoe shape, an old-style lighthouse sat at the end of one of those headlands, lamp burning through the consistent fog that rolled off the Atlantic every day at dawn and every night at dusk. It would have been a charming small New England Town, ripe for tourist money, if not for the fact that many of the buildings had a weathered, rundown, quality to them, along with the History of the Town. Several buildings were boarded up, including the Old Stone Municipal Library, the Town Records Office, and most insidiously, a large church on a cliff overlooking the Sea that stank of dark magic.
The prosperity of Starkesboro had been on a downward spiral for around a decade, when Doctor Strange had battled Sligguth, a son of the Elder God Set, in the tunnels underneath the town. Sligguth had been slain, but in keeping with the Hyborian origins of Set and his brood, dead gods were never entirely dead, simply inert. Their power is still trapped within the corpse, waiting for any Black Sorcerer to attempt to use it for nefarious ends. Regardless, this meant that the power Sligguth that would usually be aiding the Town's prosperity, steering fish into nets, and guiding townsfolk into good investments, was now bound up in Sligguth's inert corpse. Accordingly, Starkesboro had been bleeding money for years now. As I made my way into a local bar, the Adder Lounge, the chatter was all on the Town's economic problems as various people gossiped over drinks.
I bellied up to the bar as the Bartender nodded to me, "Afternoon, Stranger. Don't get many out-of-towners these days. What can I get you?" He Questioned.
I took in the bartender's form. He had a slight tinge to his skin that was a little more green than brown, his nose was a little less pronounced than normal, a little more snakelike, and his canines a little more pronounced than normal. Clearly, he had Serpent-Men Blood in his family tree, letting me know that the marks of the Cult of Sligguth were still on Starkesboro, even a decade after Doctor Strange came and killed their God and drove them out of the Town. I nodded back at the Bartender and ordered a Guinness. The Bartender went over to the tap and poured me a tall one with a perfect amount of foam. He slid it over to me before I handed over my card.
"Keep it open." I said.
"Sure, will do." Agreed the Bartender, taking my Bank of Transia Card and opening a tab.
I took a sip of my beer and nodded appreciatively. As I drank, I opened my ears and eavesdropped on the various conversations going on around me. Two people were talking about a bunch of folks upping stakes and leaving town for the Big City, which in this case I took to mean Boston. Another man was bemoaning the state of the fishing industry, which had been the main moneymaker of the Town in decades past, so much so that the Old Cannery had been built in the twenties to gut, process, and package the daily catch into tinned sardines, anchovies, tuna, albacore, and more. Next to him, his friend chimed in that the Cannery is down to operating only three days a week thanks to the lessened catches. One other woman whose eyes were just a bit too far apart and whose tongue was just long enough to get in the way of her speech and cause a lisp said this wouldn't have happened while Lady Ebora was still here.
"This town looks like it's seen better days." I offered.
"Starkesboro's livelihood has been tied to the sea for over a hundred years. For decades the trawlers went out of the harbor every day and came back with holds teeming with all kinds of fish, crustaceans, shellfish, and so on. We built the Old Cannery and started canning our own fish products using tin mined from the nearby hills. Then a decade ago, that all started to change. The Tin Mines started to play out, trawlers came back with less and less fish. Been a slow death for a decade, with public buildings being shuttered to save money and the youth leaving for greener pastures." Shrugged the Bartender.
"Is that so? Wouldn't have anything to do with the source of dormant magic I'm sensing out in the bay, would it?" I queried.
With that, all conversation stopped as all eyes turned to me. I was suddenly struck by the fact that everyone in here had traits I'd associate with Serpent-Men. Some just had more of the reptilian blood in them than others. Most only had a single trait, with greener-tinged skin, pronounced canines, or yellow pupils. Others, like the Bartender and the Woman who'd spoken about Ebora had more. Now all of the patrons were looking at me like they may or may not have to fight at some point in the near future. The Bartender reached under the bar counter, and I didn't need Psychic Powers to know that he was getting ready to pull out a shotgun from under the bartop if things went south here. I held up my hands in what I hoped came off as a placating gesture, shaking my head at the sudden jumpiness.
"Easy, I'm not looking for a fight here. I came here because something of mine should be on one of the islands nearby." I placated.
"You're gonna have to start talking." Frowned the Bartender.
So I told him what I was able to with the Secrecy Drawback in play. That I was a sorcerer and that I'd recently inherited a Wizard's Tower on a nearby Island out at sea, but wasn't sure exactly which one. That I knew about Sligguth and the Serpent-Men but had no wish to get caught up in a fight unless they were going to press the issue or try to sacrifice a person in front of me or something, and that I was willing to pay for a boat, and crew to take me out looking for my new tower. Thankfully, my forthrightness and willingness to talk things out seemed to mollify the Bartender somewhat, who seemed to briefly take offense at my human sacrifice comment before sighing and shaking his head. He told me he couldn't exactly gainsay that before launching into an explanation.
"No full-blooded Serpent-Men are left in Starkesboro. The Sorcerer Supreme drove them all out with the Cult. Most of us are quarter-bloods or less, and we've only got a few half-bloods still around. The real nutcases and zealots fled after Great Sligguth was killed along with the Cult. Most of the folks who are still living here just want to be left alone, and even the more entrepreneurial sorts just want to put our dark origins behind us. The problem is, Great Sligguth was actively buoying the Town Economy with his power. Now that he's sunk to the bottom of the bay, it looks like he's taken the Economy with him." Explained the Bartender.
My psychic powers told me that he was on the level with this, which made me frown. The town was actively trying to shed its blood-soaked past, but in doing so they'd fallen on hard times. That didn't seem right to me. After all, if the Hybrids that called Starkesboro Home were punished for doing the right thing, they might just revert to their grandparents' ways and start up with the human sacrifice and Set Worship again, since clearly, reform wasn't working. Thinking on the dilemma, I came to a decision and made an offer.
"Maybe I can help. I'm given to understand that my new Tower has mines that go deep under the earth to dig up all sorts of minerals. I might be able to help you revive the town's fortunes." I offered.
"You'd do that for folks you just met? Why?" Asked the Bartender.
"People trying to be better than their ancestors who sacrificed people to a Setspawn in exchange for Town Prosperity shouldn't be punished for trying to shed those ancestral practices. I believe in good people being rewarded for doing good things." I shrugged.
"I think you should talk to Old Man Regulus then. He's got authority to speak for the town. He normally can be found inside the Old Lighthouse on Hognose Spit. I can take you to him after my shift." Answered the Bartender.
"No need, Marcus. I have divined this Young Man's appearance and intentions and found them worthy enough to talk to him." Came a voice from the doorway.
I turned to see the form of a man in a brown, hooded, robe, almost like a modernized version of a medieval monk habit. His face was covered by the combination of a hood and a pair of sunglasses, and his hands were covered by a pair of leather gloves. It wasn't until he entered the more dimly lit confines of the Adder Lounge that he pulled his hood down and took off his gloves and sunglasses, revealing greenish, leathery, scales, pointed, clawlike, fingernails, pointed canines, and slitted, yellow, pupils. The man was a Half-blood Serpent Man-Human Hybrid. The Bartender, Marcus, seemed to nod at him as he walked up to the bar, wringing a bit of beef blood into a pint of lager and sliding the resulting concoction to the man.
"This is Old Man Regulus, one of the last remaining Half-bloods in town. You two can discuss among yourselves, I have some cleaning up to do." Nodded Marcus before moving to the other end of the bar and polishing the bartop with a rag.
Regulus took a drink of his blood and beer pint before regarding me. "Does my need for blood bother you, Young Sorcerer?" He questioned.
"Not especially. That is beef blood, right? He didn't switch it out for people blood after leaving the Butcher's?" I frowned.
"It is. The stronger the blood of Set's Children runs in your veins, the more of a need you have for blood in your diet. Most of us in town just use beef blood, but those fully of the Blood of Set need something more potent. It is one of many reasons that those of us who stayed behind resent the Cult and are trying to change things." Nodded Regulus.
"But you've been having issues." I prompted.
"We have. However, now you have come into town, and while I am possessed of some sorcerous power, the other Half-Bloods very much are not. They cannot divine a person's intentions with magic, and so they will not take your word for it that you mean to help us. Especially not with the other issues we've been having." Nodded Regulus.
"What other issues are those?" I queried.
"Vipera is concerned about the beast that has taken up refuge in one of the last still producing coal mines. Meanwhile, Sortius requires aid in tracking down the whereabouts of his granddaughter, who recently vanished whilst visiting from College in the Big City. Then Ophidio requires help with something in the Old Library Basement, supposedly he found a mystical puzzle seal down there that looks to be guarding some sort of room with artifacts in it that may be able to help the town. Finally, Hydrophia is concerned that the Old Cannery may have gremlins lurking in some of the machines, one of the workers lost both hands during one of the few shifts they still operate there on a machine that had just passed inspection." Informed Regulus.
"And if I fix all of these, you'll agree to help me out?" I pressed.
"Of course. Honestly, if you help with all these, you will likely be the Town's Hero even if we never find your tower." Nodded Regulus.
Honestly, it sounded sort of like a bunch of side quests I was being forced to do to progress the Main Quest. Like this was all some kind of a video game. Honestly, though, given that I was granted these powers by the Beyonder, whose whole reason for being was doing shit for laughs, it was pretty par for the course. In any case, it wasn't like I had any alternate ways forward. Nodding to Regulus, I agreed to do all these sidequests, starting with the Puzzle Seal in the Old Library. It sounded less likely to kill me than Beasts in Caves or Gremlin Shenanigans, anyway. Plus, who knows? Maybe I'll be able to pick up something useful from whatever stash is behind there? I closed out my tab with Marcus and got up to leave. Regulus stopped me for a moment to give me a bit of advice.
"Beware if you're headed to the Library first. The Cult used puzzle seals in conjunction with guardians. It is likely to end in a fight." He cautioned. I nodded at him, taking his advice under consideration, and then headed out the door.
He would wind up being correct. . .
XXXX
Morstrava was a city of one-hundred-eighty-thousand souls, not quite the two-hundred-thousand of the Port of Vastopol, but still sizable. When bolstered by the Army and reinforcements from Carpasia, that number swelled further to exceed Vastopol's population. Of course, this caused immediate issues with rationing. Mors Cruentia had taken many of the country's farm towns and agricultural production centers. Morstrava was also cut off from the Port of Vastopol and the Serbian Border by Mors Cruentia's controlled territory, and the one corridor of land that they could still conceivably import food through led to Bosnia, and the Bosniaks had no love of Serbs, doubly so for Serb Nationalists. In fact, outside of that corridor to Bosnia, a strip near the Serbian Border, and a section of land surrounding Vastopol, Mors Cruentia controlled the entire country.
It had taken two weeks for the Serb Alliance to be beaten back to Morstrava, and three days for Mors Cruentia to seize control of the rest of the country. Vastopol fell on the second day of the Siege to cunning tactics, using the lack of oxygen needed by the undead to walk a Company of empowered Zombies along the bottom of the Adriatic for a surprise night assault that took the Harbor and allowed the rest of the city to fall shortly afterward. The Serbian Army had been crushed by a combination of undead riders and Albanians with all sorts of magically-enhanced equipment. The last news the defenders of the Capital had heard from that front was that Mors Cruentia's forces had entered Kosovo and began linking up with the various Kosovar Insurgents to really begin to take it to Belgrade. On the third day of the Siege, the corridor to Bosnia fell.
Morstrava was now alone, unable to call on help from her allies, unable to feed the military forces in the city as well as the population for an extended period, and with no hope of relief any time soon. Perhaps that was why, on the fourth day of the Siege, when Mors Cruentia approached the City to offer terms, there was only a single, perfunctory, rocket attack on his position that he swatted out of the sky with lightning bolts from his hands. He appeared unimpressed as he scowled at the defenders of Morstrava.
"Now that you've gotten that out of your system, I should inform you that Serbia has signed a cease-fire pending negotiations. The Serbian Government has pledged to recall all troops in Morstrava back to bases in Serbia pending negotiations. Any Serbian troops within the city have twenty-four hours to leave their posts and present themselves to my forces to be escorted back to base. Any who stay will be considered in violation of lawful orders." Sneered Mors Cruentia.
A flurry of activity ensued as the Serbian Commander desperately attempted to reach Belgrade on the Radio. It took several precious hours to do so, but eventually, he reached General Stefan Pavlović with the Serbian High Command in Belgrade who confirmed the Cease-Fire and recall order. It appeared the situation was much worse than the Serbian Army Forces in Morstrava had thought, as the Army had lost most of Kosovo in just thirty-six hours, including the regional capital of Pristina, and had been about to lose the last bit they held onto in Northern Mitrovica District when the cease-fire offer had been extended.
With no other choice, the majority of the Serbian Forces pulled out of Morstrava, though a few companies chose mutiny to keep fighting. This alleviated the food shortage some, but not the defenders had a manpower shortage. There was no way for them to hold onto Morstrava with what they still had in the face of Mors Cruentia's onslaught. With a heavy heart, the defenders of Morstrava did the only thing they could do. They surrendered. Within three weeks, Mors Cruentia had knocked Morvania and Serbia out of the war. Only Carpasia remained fighting. It was they who would be the next to fall.
After all, now Mors Cruentia could devote his full might to crushing them. . .
XXXX
AN: So yeah. Jan gets a bunch of Side Quests while Mors Cruentia keeps dominating the battlefield against the Serb Nationalist Alliance. Jan helping out the Starkesboroans in their attempt to move away from their Snakey Ancestors practices actually means that his closest neighbors are gonna view him as a local hero if he manages it all, even if the economy doesn't turn around too much.
Meanwhile, at least one good thing coming from Mors Cruentia's War is likely to be the existence of an independent Kosovo, even if it is tied to Mors Cruentia's territory via Alliance post-war. Sure that may have just been a byproduct of Mors Cruentia's search for his Tower and wish to gain a powerbase, but so was Doom curing Cancer. Good things are still good, even if they come from narcissistic, power-hungry, pricks.
At any rate, the next chapter will be Jan dealing with the Puzzle Seal and Guardian in the Old Starkesboro Library Basement, along with the attack on Carpasia by Mors Cruentia.
Stay tuned. . .