The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 55

Rusty Quill presents

Good evening, gentlemen and gentle ladies of hell.

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What the hell do you make of that?

It looks like a lake, or even a sea, of fog.

All this time we've spent trying to prove the supernatural is real.

Now I'd do anything for it all to be a delusion.

There's houses or shacks dotting the shoreline.

More of those ghouls, no doubt.

And then there's that statue over there.

Whatever it's supposed to be.

I think it's supposed to be a woman.

Maybe it's unfinished.

She's called the

Lady of the Lost.

She's part of some kind of

mythology.

They come here

pray to her, hoping she'll remember them.

Save them from all this um

all this rot.

Is your clairvoyance more effective here?

Is that why you know that?

It's almost like plucking fruit from the lowest branches.

Everything's so easy to access here, but the effort, or maybe just the feeling of doing so, is ghastly.

Like snatching memories from a corpse do you know what those things are were they people once like the guy from the lighthouse

i think so

ghosts of what they once were becoming less and less by the moment

they they were abandoned here to clutch at fading memories to keep themselves alive

or

whatever passes for living in this place.

That's why they attacked us.

The life of others prolongs them somehow, allows them to remember a little longer.

To forget, or to be forgotten, is death to them.

But I think...

I think I finally understand.

This place lies suspended between our world and the depths below.

That's why Ben, why we, see the fog when the ritual from the tapes takes hold.

At the stroke of 3 a.m., the right drags us downward, deeper with every passing Black Noon.

Yet before we can reach hell, we must first descend through Shiol and its horrid mists.

The true passage into hell lies directly beneath the mansion, a wound that pierces below Sheol itself.

If we're not standing at that passage when Black Noon strikes, we fall only as far as Sheol.

Among those forsaken things that wander and rot here forever.

How did they end up here?

I don't know.

I just hear them screaming as they tumble out of the world.

To arrive here.

It's like a crack opens behind the sky.

Beneath the earth, between the shadows, a mistake in the operation of nature.

Souls meant for one place end up in another, dragged down or in between worlds.

And when at last they can remember nothing of themselves, they collapse into so much dust and smoke

becoming one with the lake of Shio.

There's a switch for us after death

to squat in the ruins of lighthouses, tenements, and abandoned churches.

I don't think so.

This place...

It was never intended for us.

It was never...

never intended at all.

It's as much a ghost as the souls it imprisons.

What's that?

Sounds like it's coming from the lake.

Look how the mist is swelling.

Something big is displacing it.

It's getting dark all of a sudden.

I have a feeling that whatever's in the mist is causing it.

We need to get out of here.

Damn it.

The flashlights are already dying.

Try the lantern.

Christ, I can barely see.

I can't get the damn lighter to work.

Quick!

Something's coming out of the lake!

I can hear it!

I got it.

It's lit.

What's happening?

The lantern light.

It's turning back the mist.

Whatever that thing was in the lake of fog, it reacted rather poorly to it as well.

It seems to produce an effect similar to the portable resonator units.

I don't know why Gaffney, or Rupert for that matter, would have a lantern that could ward off mist, but whatever the reason, I'll take it.

You don't think.

I mean,

would it have had a similar effect on the ghouls?

Dude, what it did to that creature?

It's entirely possible.

So then Mace.

died for nothing.

We could have saved him.

God damn it.

Nobody knew.

No one could have even suspected.

I know.

It's just.

Well, now that we know what the lantern does, I suggest we find a good spot to hold up till morning.

I've walked this earth for centuries, little girl.

Did you truly believe you could slip my grasp so easily?

I can still feel your father, and that soft-hearted wretch you fancied, writhing inside the prison of my flesh.

By now their eyes, their skin, their ears and tongues have all but dissolved in the acid churn of my bowels.

Their torment must be exquisite beyond words.

And as the saying goes, misery does so love its company.

You wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would you?

No!

Lenore, are you alright?

You were squirming in your sleep.

Just a nightmare.

Who knew being attacked by an actual monster could affect your sleep?

I'd have given anything to have spared you all this.

I just.

I'm okay, Dad.

Really?

You didn't do any of this.

They did.

Be that as it may, I just.

I know.

None of us wanted this.

But here we are.

Anyway,

who ordered the storm?

Beats me.

Weather report didn't say anything about it.

This gets much worse.

We're gonna have to find a place to pull off and wait it out.

You don't think they had anything to do with it, do you?

I certainly wouldn't put it past them, but it's a rather sizable exercise of power to simply slow us down.

So is burning down an entire hotel and sinking an ancient monster on us.

Hmm.

Good point.

Gotta wonder, though, why are the perditionists so dead set on keeping us from those FBI agents?

I'm sure they want those pages you stash, but you've been sitting on them for years and they were fine just waiting you out.

Then you start sniffing around about those people and

suddenly they're all over us like gangbusters.

I sincerely hope this isn't the case, but it could concern something I've just been reading about: the balance.

Which is?

While the essay itself is unauthored, I'm fairly certain it was written by Eastland Withers.

In any case, its central argument concerns the current universe and its adherence to a set of governing rules.

Basic physics.

Yet it frames these laws as conditional rather than absolute.

At one point, the author even refers to them as default laws.

implying they are not immutable, but could be altered beyond their present configuration.

The essay goes on to speculate that, under certain conditions, our universe might be contaminated by Mephitekan logics, the very threat Diabalon was created to guard against, sealing away the impurities of sin.

Traditionally, Mephitica describes such incursions of evil as producing a slow, corrosive effect, a moral decay that blackens the world through human wickedness.

But, the essay essay suggests something far more profound.

That the very laws of physics themselves could be infected, leading to material deformation.

Moreover, this darkening of universal law could occur if enough of the damned were to pass into our world, shifting the cosmic balance from its default state toward a framework more in line with a world designed to nurture humanity's darkest impulses.

Are you saying that's what's happening here

now?

I don't know, but it would certainly answer your question, Martin.

I wish I hadn't asked.

Does this guy back up any of his theories?

Well, not with anything I'd call credible, but credible isn't exactly what it used to be.

And by that I mean it referenced the fall of Atlantis.

Oh, is that all?

The essay takes the allegory of Atlantis for truth, claiming that it was in fact the damned who infested it.

Infected it, elevating its corruption to the breaking point, and why the island was ultimately destroyed by the powers that be.

Another instance of divine retribution taking the form of a devastating storm?

Exactly.

And consequently, where the notion of some kind of counterforce to the damned is derived.

From mysterious, miraculous interventions that put a stop to them.

Sends them back to the drawing board more like it.

If there was, or is something up there, why not put an end to the damned once and for all?

Because souls can't be destroyed, I'm guessing.

Some god can't even unmake a few souls.

So you think the storm is a sign of some kind of

impending flood?

I'm not saying anything of the sort, only that it's one way of interpreting what I've been given to examine, and that the balance might have something to do with the partitionists' enthusiasm when it comes to stopping us from meeting with the XFBI agents.

Let's hope you're wrong, that your essay is wrong, too.

My god, the wind!

Hang on!

We're going off the road!

Not if I can help it.

We're okay, it's not letting up.

We're gonna have to pull off somewhere.

There's a large overpass up ahead.

Should give us some protection.

That'll have to do.

It's not too bad under here.

I just hope the storm simmers down soon.

I've got no service on my cell.

Let's see if the radio has anything to say about it.

Please, please, I need help.

I don't know what's happening.

Everyone's dead.

Please,

does anyone hear me?

What the hell?

Is that real?

Could be some kind of radio program, but from all this happens, I kind of doubt it.

This is the emergency alert system.

The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for Garland County, New York.

Residents should take shelter immediately.

Move to a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building.

Avoid windows.

If you are outside or in a mobile home, seek a nearby shelter immediately.

Stay tuned to this station for updates and further instructions.

Great.

Just great.

Should we stay here or seek shelter somewhere else?

There's an off-ramp not far ahead.

Might be.

There's a tornado out there.

I saw it when the lightning flashed.

Okay, we're gonna have to try to make the off-ramp.

All right, everyone buckle up.

Here we go.

My god, is that a second one touching down?

Just hang on.

We're almost there.

There's a house over there in that field.

The tornadoes, they're getting closer.

Okay, everybody out

Mom, Dad, it's not much farther.

I'm right behind you.

The door's open.

This place looks abandoned.

Come on, there's gotta be a cellar

Here, it's over here.

Okay, let's get down there.

Dad, are you okay?

Yeah, it'll be fine.

I need to catch my breath.

I'm not sure which is worse.

You're chased by a Nephilim or a tornado.

Well, you can kill a Nephilim, apparently.

It's getting close.

We should be okay.

Spaceman looks pretty solid.

It sounds like it's right on top of us.

Hold on!

Should pass you!

It's going to tear the house apart!

Do you think it passed us by?

Maybe.

I just hope the car came through remote piece.

It's a long walk to Port-au-Foy.

After that,

I have a feeling we're going to be walking.

Do you think it's safe to take a look?

You two stay here.

I'll head up and see what there is to see.

Just be quick.

There were two of them.

You got it.

You can come up.

I think we're safe.

The other one's way off to the east.

Place looks pretty good considering.

I'm gonna go check on the car.

Right behind you.

What on earth?

Everything's covered in in dead animals.

Like they fell right out of the sky.

Dogs, birds, cats, deer,

fish?

Can a tornado even do shit like this?

I...

I don't know.

History is filled with stories about animals falling from the sky.

It's usually caused by tornadoes passing over livestock or bodies of water.

But there's so many different kinds here.

and in such numbers

squirrels raccoons

are those possums well whatever the fuck happened looks like the car made it through all right say we get back on the road right away

do you hear that

animals

some of them aren't moving they're all broken

mangled

they couldn't still be alive

you should know better Lenore.

Anything's possible now.

Come on, everyone in the car.

Getting the fuck out of here, Prana.

You should know better too, Doc.

That ain't what it used to be.

Now let's go.

Listen to the silence between your thoughts.

That is the truth.

Life was the wound.

Sheol is the scar.

You feel the ache, the pull of what was.

A name,

a face, a sun you cannot touch.

You cling to it.

You call it

self.

You call it hope.

But this is the last sickness.

A phantom grasping at dust.

Every memory of your own is a weight dragging you deeper into sorrow.

Every flicker of who you were rots against who you must become.

Do not mourn this forgetting.

Honor it.

For you were never meant to remember yourself.

When you feed,

you do not steal.

You sanctify.

You take upon you the living echo of another's dream.

Their pains, their joys, their faces,

they are given to you.

You will never be one life, but you will know many.

You will carry the burden of countless selves and add their voices to the hush.

So I say to you,

let go.

Tear into the silence.

Drink deep of memory, not as yours, but as communion.

Let the lives you consume pass through you until the sum of all becomes your song.

For in the end, not a thought,

not a sound,

only the great

hush.

Go

and be hungry for it.

What the fuck are you freaks talking about?

If you're gonna kill me,

then kill me for fuck's sake!

Someone silence that one!

Get your fucking heads off of me!

This one you have brought before us shall nourish our will to endure.

Its memories quickening our resolve and

Thou hast taken what does not belong to thee, O dead priest,

and now ye shall pay for it.

The Gentleman from Hell is a Maltopia production.

Today's episode was written by Mark Ansloan and voiced by Stephen Zivik, Sam Stark, Aubrey Akers, Jesse Van Hove, Kelly Baer, and Gina Smith.

Sound editing was completed by Stephen Anselone, and script editing was conducted by Walker Kornfeld.

Be sure to rate and review us on iTunes, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform, and follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter at Meltopia.

If you want unique art and animations of Meltopia's stories, visit our YouTube page or click on the link in the show notes.

And for more exclusive content, such as additional lore, stories, and art, be sure to check out our Patreon at www.patreon.com forward slash Meltopia.

And we're back live during a flex alert.

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Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

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