The Disappearance of Maintenance Crew Nine

While barely recovered from her time in the Eastern Wastes, Airtam was conscripted by the Bechtlarite Intelligence Bureau to investigate a string of missing persons that had been occurring for a few years. In every case, no trace or evidence of the missing crews were recovered, and while rumors and tall tales seemed to have multiple explanations, all of them seemed far fetched, even for Cairne. Given no choice in the matter and unable to protest given her already tenuous position within the rank and file of the upper echelons of the ruling factors of the time, Airtam had little choice but to accept the demands of Nonpareil Fulton and, while she was apparently terrified of the potential implications of being sent to investigate such a thing, she honored her obligations to the Empire and delved the depths of that place. What she found there, and the realizations of why she was sent, further solidified her already burgeoning concerns about her safety.

To: Headmaster, Airtam Morenthall
From: Nonpareil Fulton
Subject: Multiple Disappearances of Maintenance Crews in Armuun Sewers
On 23 of Vigor 154 PR, Maintenance Crew 9 consisting of six members was reported missing while performing routine maintenance work in the sewers under the commercial district of Armuun. The crew was comprised of three experienced technicians and three skilled laborers, all veteran workers in the department with no outstanding work related issues or significant ties to any form of nefarious practice whatsoever, as you well know, we vet these workers vigorously to avoid infiltration by rogue elements, but despite our efforts, this marks the fifth such occurrence in the last three years. Our records indicate that the missing crews were well-equipped and adequately trained for their work in all reported instances, so no common threads indicating incompetence stand out. In accordance with standard practice, these teams are meant to perform their duties in eighteen hour shifts, coming to the surface every six hours along their routes to report their findings and work, but their second surfacing, all contact was lost, and they have not been heard from since. The previous four crews that disappeared were also conducting routine maintenance work and had similar experiences, though the times between entering the underground and loss of communication varies from case to case.
The Bureau's initial assumption is that the terrorist organization, the Burnt Crows, is responsible for these disappearances. We have found vague evidence that points towards the potential involvement of an unknown creature that may reside in the sewers such as claw marks on the walls and floors of the tunnels, and there have been reports of strange noises coming from deep within the system, but all of these findings are unsubstantiated by follow up investigations thus far. I have no doubt that once some tangible evidence is discovered, it will likely be little more than an area of the maintenance tunnels that has been damaged or breached, which is a danger all of the lost workers are well aware of from the time they sign their contracts.
Given the potential risk to public safety, we would like to request that you indulge us by taking immediate action to investigate further. As a highly skilled asset with specialized training that could prove to be invaluable in ascertaining the nature and whereabouts of our teams, or in the very least shed some light on what led to their disappearance, we thank you in advance for volunteering for this rather distasteful excursion into the systems below the city. Rest assured that we will equip you with the best possible tools needed to handle the situation and extract any relevant information without drawing attention to yourself, or the involvement of the Bureau. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that it is in the best interests of the Empire, and your own well being, that we keep the situation under control and avoid creating a panic among the public. We assure you that we are working diligently on our end to uncover the truth behind these disappearances as well, and should any information surface we will provide updates as often as we determine them to be needed.
You will begin your investigation in two days, giving you ample time to get your affairs with the University in order, and to allow for proper machinations to be put in play that will tidy up your affairs in the event of misfortune, though we see no reason why a short exploratory incursion into the tunnels of the very city you live in should be cause for any concern, especially considering all of the expeditions and investigations you have played a role in to date. I’m sure you’ll be back at your desk in no time, Headmaster.
Rest assured that we are fully aware of the gravity of this situation and will take all necessary steps to protect our citizens, which is one of the reasons why we have selected you, one of our finest and most well respected citizens, to represent our agency in the matter at hand. Best of luck.
Geraldine Fulton, Nonpareil

Document Structure

Publication Status

As part of the leaked Morenthall publications following her death, these writings are generally easy to find, though there have been several attempts by agents of the Bechtlarite Intelligence Agency to gather and destroy as many copies of this particular document as possible.

Historical Details

Public Reaction

This particular document was neatly debunked by the Bechtlarite Intelligence Bureau, who even provided proof that the writings contained within were falsified a great deal by the Burnt Crows, going so far as to even produce evidence that Fomick Instein was indeed still alive and stationed at the Maliciean Scientific Commune where her classified work kept her isolated due to the delicate nature of it. Fomich, however, never made an appearance herself nor did the Commune produce any signs or evidence that backed up this claim leading many to dispute it. This document damaged the reputation of the Bureau a great deal, and more prevalent, caused a large disruption in the leadership of the agency itself as the Sovereign came forward and claimed the Bureau had been working independent of their wishes, and counter productive to the overall goals and standards of the Bechtlarite people as a whole.

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The Disappearance of Maintenance Crew Nine

25th of Vigor, 154 PR 10:14

The moment I received the orders to investigate the disappearance of Maintenance Crew 9 in the sewers, I knew something was not right. As the fifty three year old headmaster of the University of the Lighted Way, and given my recent track record with the lives entrusted to me, I cannot help but wonder if they are using me, or even attempting to send me to my doom. I suppose the Bureau may see me as a potential loose end or threat to the stability they seem to crave so much, though I cannot help but feel as though Fulton has some ulterior motive here, perhaps a power play of some sort. Phoebe’s words echo in my mind as I begin this fool's errand, about me having “the propensity for change and a true desire for the perpetuity of life”. I can’t help but feel that by following orders and being where I am now, that perhaps she was mistaken.

I was given only two days to prepare for this task, and now I find myself deep within the bowels of the city, descending into the dark, dank tunnels that are a very old part of the city’s infrastructure, some of which predate the Blight by a significant margin in the lower reaches. Through the upheaval a great deal of the records that held that data was apparently lost and I was unable to find any detailed diagrams or maps of the older sections. My hope if that I will not need to delve deeper than the commonly used, modern portions and that I can find the missing crew and be done with this. As I make my way deeper into the tunnels, I cannot help but feel the weight of Fulton's words weighing heavily upon me. I have been a loyal citizen all my life, but there does seem to be this dark miasma of foul fortune that seems to follow me wherever I go. The lives lost in search of my truths and academic pursuits add years to me, and disturb my sleep with dreams I cannot remember upon waking. The darkness of this place must be seeping into my bones. All this conspiratorial supposition will do little to guide me to my goal here. Perhaps once I find the missing crew, whatever debt I have incurred to the Bureau will be rendered paid and I can just return to my University. I’m getting to be far too old for these adventures…

25th of Vigor, 154 PR 15:21

The stench of sewage and decay is all around me, and the sounds of dripping water echo through the narrow tunnels in a maddeningly constant rhythm. I have been walking for hours now, my feet sore and my heart heavy with growing apprehension. I have found no sign of the missing crew, but the evidence of their presence is all around me. I was given the route that they would have taken between the last checkpoint they reported in at, to the location of the next and final one where they should have completed their shift. The workers have a method of marking certain points in their duty by leaving various geometric symbols that represent their crew in colored chalk at each location where they service the industrial pipes and valves that carry waste and move water throughout the city. I don’t pretend to understand the engineering behind it, but even I, with no real knowledge of the details of how it all works, cannot help but marvel at the ingenuity of our society. To be able to sustain such a massive population and to maintain the needs of it like this is nothing short of miraculous, but this is no miracle. This is the blood, sweat, and tears of the Becht people, generations pouring their creativity and skill into assuring that the rest of us have clean water and never have to see the dirty underside produced by humanity in such large numbers. The people that work down here, like the ones I am searching for, really need to be celebrated more!

I cannot help but wonder what could have happened to them. According to the map I was able to acquire, the path they would have taken is straightforward and simple, one they would have walked countless times, so the reality of them possibly getting lost is laughable at best, and gives me pause. The only real possibilities I can fathom is either they were involved in an accident of some sort, and if so are hopefully still alive and merely awaiting rescue, or that there is someone else down here that may have kidnapped them or otherwise caused them harm. It would not be the first time the Crows have done something like this in an attempt to disrupt the more finite but crucial inner workings of the city. Tear apart the foundations and the building above will fall. This is a frighteningly dangerous tactic, but if that is the case, I find it hard to believe that the Bureau would have no knowledge of it, and even more disturbing, why would they send me instead of a contingent of the Guard? Why would they not send at least one person with me? Is the Empire using me as bait? Or do they intend for me to discover something that will lead to my downfall? I cannot shake the feeling that I am walking into a trap. I’ll press on, my hand tight around my pistol, and my eyes peeled for any sign of danger. My phosphor stone at least seems adequate in terms of the light it provides, but the shadows that dance along the edges where its light fades still do a great deal to test my resolve. The tunnels twist and turn, leading me deeper into the heart of the systems below Armuun, and I cannot help but feel that I am descending into another world hidden from the sight of its people, one that may not be as safe as I had hoped, but I am the headmaster of the University of the Lighted Way, and I will not falter. I will continue on, even in the face of certain doom, and I will uncover the truth behind these disappearances, no matter the cost. I have failed too many people, and I cannot let this be yet another list of names to etch into the stone of guilt that already hangs heavy around my neck.

25th of Vigor, 154 PR 22:03

I have found signs of a struggle in the tunnels, faint and almost washed away by the ebb and flow of the sewers, some distance from where the crew should have left their last mark, but there is something off about the evidence I’ve discovered. While a great deal of steam and moisture lines everything here, and the natural movement of these substances causes a great deal of damage to the surfaces of the stone and the pipes, something that tells me this is not just the natural course of the sewage system. The primary job of the crews that are sent down here is to clean the more delicate machinery assuring its continued function, and to change out parts as they wear down, but what I found, the damage in this area, seems to be the result of something far more physical than oxidation or erosion, and has left some sort of draggin trail leading further down, towards the unused sections of the infrastructure that have been built over as technology advanced. These are the sections that no one ever goes to, except for criminals and other fugitives.

I am nervous, worried for my safety, but at this point, my own curiosity is piqued. The missing crews deserve more than has been done to find them, and I carry on determined to at least do what I can to find them, or at least what happened to them.

As I make my way deeper into the unused sections of the infrastructure, the darkness seems to close in around me, and the sounds of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats are the only sounds I hear. I came across a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for a single person to walk through, and it was here that I found the strongest evidence yet of a struggle, with scratches and scuff marks lining the walls along with several faint smears of what can only be blood.

My heart raced as I continued down the tunnel, my pistol drawn and ready for any danger that may be lurking in the darkness, and then I saw it, a glint of metal in the faint light of my phosphor stone. I rushed towards it, my heart in my throat, and found a discarded tool belt, the leather worn and frayed, and covered in dark stains. It is unmistakably the tool belt of one of the missing crew members. My stomach turned at the thought of what may have happened to them, and I cannot help but feel a surge of anger at the Empire for not doing more to find them, but my anger is quickly replaced by a fierce determination to uncover the truth, no matter what it may be. I will continue deeper into the unused sections of the infrastructure. These workers deserve more than me, but since Fulton has decided this is the best course of action and my hands are tied, I suppose I will have to do my best to be enough.

25th of Vigor, 154 PR 34:20

I have come to a dead end, and I am exhausted. I am not sure if this was ever a path to begin with, but it seemed like the only lead I had. I paused to catch my breath and try to relax my nerves, but it became apparent quickly that I am lost. I was so focused on following what I thought was a trail that I have gotten turned around in the process.

My frustration consumed me, and it was quickly replaced by anger. How could I let myself get lost like this? I was supposed to be the one finding answers, not wandering aimlessly in the dark, but as I cried out a rather inspired string of expletives in that dark place, only to be answered by the mocking sound of my own voice echoing back at me, I heard something in the distance.

At first, I thought it might just be my imagination playing tricks on me, but then I heard it again, a group of people talking in the distance. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it is definitely a group of people. Either I have stumbled upon the missing crew, or a den of thieves perhaps. At this point I would welcome either. I’m going to make my way closer and see which it is. Hopefully this is almost over.

25th of Vigor, 154 PR 35:25

I followed the sounds of voices, but the acoustics of the tunnels made it difficult to pinpoint their location. As I moved deeper into the unknown parts of the sewers, the voices seemed to come from more than one location, one moment ahead of me, the next behind. My head began to ache, a dull throbbing pain that I waved off as the fumes and stress, but it worsened the further I went, and soon the voices became too much for me to handle, and the pain in my head was unbearable. I tried to retrace my steps, but the pain in my head had become almost unbearable. I struggled to concentrate on anything other than the throbbing sensation that threatened to consume my entire being. As I stumbled along, my vision began to blur and I felt my legs give way beneath me. I managed to catch myself on the damp, slimy walls of the tunnel, but as I tried to stand up again, I found that my body felt heavy and unresponsive. I tried to call out for help, but my voice was weak and barely audible, lost in the echoing cacophony of the quickly escalating chorus of voices that now seemed to come from everywhere at once..

For a moment, I believed I was going to die there, lost and alone in the dark depths of the tunnels, but then, through the haze of pain and disorientation, I saw a faint light in the distance, and heard the sound of movement drawing near. I tried to call out again, but my voice failed me once more. As the sound grew closer, I could make out the shape of a large figure approaching me, though it was difficult to see in the dim light with my vision blurred by the screaming pain in my head, but I thought at first it was a person. It began to speak, but the words were like a jumbled mass of nonsense, words strung together in several languages and a multitude of voices all talking over one another at the same time and none of them saying anything at all. I strained to make sense of what I was hearing, and the more I listened, the more my mind felt as though it was slipping away, growing numb. At the time it was a welcome respite from the agony I was enduring. I strained to see through the distortions and darkness as a wash of calm came over me, and I began to stand believing my salvation had finally come. As the light of my stone began to illuminate the figure, I at first thought I saw the face of a former student, a brilliant one that had shown tremendous promise but had disappeared a few years prior, Fomick Instein. Relief washed over me, and I reached out for her, tears in my eyes and my mind finally clearing.

I realized too late that the figure I thought was my student was not. Whatever that thing is, it is not even human, but a strange, quivering mass of mottled flesh, covered in mouths and dead-eyed faces, all speaking at once in a cacophonous thrum that nearly pushed me to the brink of madness. I scrambled backwards just in time as the thing reached for me, brushing my right hand with little more than a grazing touch, but it was enough. My entire body convulsed in an eruption of pain nearly enough to cause me to faint, but immediately, my hand and the majority of my arm went numb and hung useless at my side, causing me to drop my pistol which fired upon striking the stone at my feet. The report was deafening, and the flash of the powder blinding, but it was enough to cause the creature to recoil for just a moment, and in that moment, I ran blindly through the tunnels, getting even more hopelessly lost in the process.

I turned and ran, my heart pounding in my chest. I was hopelessly lost, and I didn't know which way to turn, but the creature's voices echoed behind me, and I could hear its rasping cacophony moving slowly to follow. I had to get out of the sewers, out of this nightmare. My panic consumed me as I tried to find my way back. The fumes of the sewers were overwhelming, and my head had begun pounding once more.

After what felt like hours, I stumbled upon an old door hidden away in a corner of the tunnels. The door was unlocked, and I quickly made my way inside. It appeared to be an old lab, strangely, filled with all manner of glassworks and burners, and an old warped desk pushed into one corner next to an old ratty cot with some blankets. It was abandoned, but it offered shelter from the creature outside, or so I hope. I collapsed on a nearby table, my head still pounding, and my mind racing with fear and confusion. I couldn't help but wonder what was happening to me, and what was happening in the sewers. As I lay there in the darkness, I knew that I had to find a way out of this place before it consumed me completely. Despite the pain and my rising panic, I am documenting this as best I can. In case I don’t make it to the surface. Someone has to be made aware.

26th of Vigor, 154 PR 12:14

It's been hours since I passed out in the small hidden lab that I stumbled into while running from the strange horror that nearly killed me. I've been rummaging through the lab and found several records of the work that was done here. To my shock and horror, it appears that my former student, Fomick Instein had come down here with the intention of furthering some vile experiment she had become obsessed with that involved the combining of organic material from several sources to create some form of aberrant chimera. I can't fathom why such a brilliant mind would desire to create such a malignant thing, why she would wish to pervert the art and science that she was so skilled at in this way. I've spent hours digging through the notes and books, looking for answers only to find that all of them seem to end abruptly, just as Fomick seems to have achieved her goal. The writings allude to what seems like a success, but then there is nothing. Thinking back on seeing Fomick's face in the creature's mottled form, I have little trouble determining what happened, and with a heavy heart, I assume the chimera absorbed its maker, and has been feeding on the maintenance crews down here ever since, much in the same way it nearly devoured me.

Just as I was about to give up hope, I discovered something even more valuable than all of the writings here, a key in a drawer and a small hand-drawn map that seems to lead to a concealed elevator, an exit from the labyrinthine tunnels that have become my prison for what seems like an eternity. The relief and excitement that courses through my veins is indescribable as I realize that I might just make it out alive after all. I hastily pocketed the key and map, and began to make my way once more through the tunnels towards the location marked on the map, my steps light with newfound hope.

As I moved, I couldn't help but think about what I had uncovered, and how Fomick had come to this dark place, delving into the very depths of madness to further her experiments without my knowledge, or even so much as a hint that she had obviously lost her mind. It is a sobering thought, one that makes me shudder in horror at what I have witnessed and what has been done here, and how yet again, another string of ruined lives seems to trail in the wake of my passing. Am I cursed? I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on my escape, and the hope of seeing the light of day once more.

The journey through the tunnels was difficult, and I was constantly beset by the sound of skittering claws in the darkness, each sound making me jump at my own shadow, but I was fueled by the thought of freedom, and refused to give up. Finally, I came to the location marked on the map and found the concealed elevator, the key fitting perfectly into the lock. As the elevator begins to ascend, I feel a sense of elation, the first light of hope that I have felt in what seems like an eternity. I don't know what will lie beyond the doors of the elevator, but I am ready to face whatever it may be, and to embrace the freedom that awaits me. One thing I must not allow myself to forget is that Nonpareil Geraldine Fulton sent me here, and I believe she knew full well what I was walking into. I imagine she’ll be quite shocked to see me again. Good. While I know I have no chance of standing up to the might of the Bureau, I imagine seeing me emerge from this will at least make them rethink their solutions for dealing with me. I’ll not be put to the ground so easily.

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Type

Leaked Original

Medium

Vellum / Skin

Authoring Date

25th through the 27th of Vigor 154 PR

Location

Armuun

Authors

• Airtam Morenthall