The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 57

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They assumed I would try to use my wealth to get to the bottom of all this, especially once I realized there was no escaping the mansion.

And now, now,

I am doomed.

Just waiting for whatever trap they've set for me to be sprung.

Oh, Father, you were the exact bastard I always thought you were.

Bravo.

Bravo!

Well, that's the last one.

And besides this new Erlorn lead, all we know is he didn't make it out.

And the rest of the tapes?

There weren't any more.

I went through them all, matched the timestamps you mentioned.

Every other recording came before this one, mostly just notes about his writing and research.

I've been looking through all the equipment we have left.

What the cultist didn't take.

And I realized they left behind the machine that lets them communicate with hell.

There's a sentence I never thought I'd speak.

Can you use it for anything?

I'm not sure yet.

There's still a lot I don't understand about it.

But they also left the remaining parts of the portable units after I used them to fix the resonator.

Who knows?

Maybe we can make something useful.

At any rate, we'll be busy trying to work something out.

But I don't know.

We don't have a lot of time to the next Black Noon.

What about the tape?

Was there anything there?

Ben apparently learned that the Viers and the Erlorns are related, and that it was the Erlorns who were likely behind what happened to his dad, and what was going to happen to him.

Rupert was even apparently in communication with one of the Erlorns.

Huh, so are the Erlorns damned?

Uh that would seem to be the case.

The spheros?

And now the Erlorns are all behind this thing.

Ugh, who the fuck knows?

Ben knows.

What's that, Phil?

Pat, does that hell machine, or whatever you want to call it, still work?

I'd have to put it all back together, but yeah.

Why?

Ben never made it out, just like you

So that means he's

he's in hell.

I mean, even if he didn't belong there, that's where the ritual they used on us lands you.

And you think we can use the machine to contact him?

I'm no expert, but doesn't that thing need to have a dying person inside of it?

True.

And I don't think the dying body.

A soul suspended between two worlds, combined with the runes, essentially allows for the machine to forge a stronger connection to the underworld.

That's what we more or less speculate, correct?

Well, yes, but I can't be sure if that's really how it works.

It's just a theory at the moment.

What about me?

Can I be hooked up to the machine?

Whoa, what the hell are you talking about?

We're not gonna hook you up to that fucking thing.

Are you kidding me?

I'm not saying that I want to be stuck through with wires and such, but could my body be used by the machine?

I'm not seeing why you.

My gift.

Now, more than ever before, it's allowed me to see into the underworld.

Perhaps.

Perhaps I can reach Ben.

Talk to him.

Okay.

I got everything together we're gonna need.

And I'm thinking the best place to relocate is gonna be that big Victorian on the north into town.

What's the matter?

What I just walk in on.

Phil wants us to put her in that machine where we found Prist.

Phil, come on.

You ain't serious, are you?

That's crazy.

There's no telling what could happen to you in that thing.

Just how many times do you think we can handle going through what's going to happen in less than 12 hours?

Let alone whatever the Sparrows have planned for us.

I've got to try, Mason.

They have no idea what I've grown capable of.

It's something they haven't counted on.

We need the element of surprise more than ever.

I mean,

it it could work.

And it could do god knows what to her.

I think the rules and the effect of the machine are passive enough.

If she appears to be in any danger, we could.

No!

And that's fucking it.

We can find some other way out of this.

You don't dictate my actions, Mason.

Phil, there is no way you're...

Enough!

I've made up my mind, and if Pat and Margaret can make it happen, I'm doing it.

They didn't nab my spare tools in the back room, so I'll start putting it back together.

I'll see if I can reconfigure it to host a living occupant.

Phil.

Period, Leon.

Now, why don't you investigate that lead about the Ernorn family?

There's still quite a few notes and books you can look through.

Christ.

Alright, what do you want to do?

Come on.

Let's go see what new awful shit we're buried under.

If they can change the entire world around us,

how the hell do we have a chance?

How the hell does anyone have a chance against these things?

It's them.

The Congress of the Damned.

They've gathered gathered for some awful thing to come, and this storm, I have a feeling it's no sign of impending divine intervention, but

another aspect of the world they've infected with their evil.

What about the water?

Is there anything you might be able to do against the effects?

I can't help but wonder if the very fact we have all these blessed objects on our person isn't already dulling the worst of the effects.

You mean it could have been worse than heads raining down from the sky?

It is possible.

Especially if you consider.

Look out!

Too late!

Brace yourselves!

Is everybody alright?

I'm okay.

Thank God for airbags.

Dad,

Dad,

I'm okay.

How about my leg?

I can get it free.

Is everyone alive in there?

I sure hope so

this wonderfully sharp knife isn't for cutting anyone free of the seat belt

Jesus Christ, who is that

stay down

I got him

Uh oh.

It looks like you're in some distress, my fellow mortarist.

Let me help you out.

Oh, I'm fine.

I just need to get your insurance information, if you don't mind.

I've got a lot more than my insurance to give you.

Is that so?

You bastard!

You think you're gonna stop me?

Keep it up, and the next one's going in your head.

Now, tell me what the fuck's going on.

Who can say?

But it's wonderful, don't you think?

My mind is finally free.

My hands are no longer tied.

In plain fucking English, what's wonderful?

The clarity.

I know now, after a lifetime of worrying, that I have a part to play in it all.

That what I've hidden my whole life can finally come out.

The whole world can come out.

Slip out of the cocoon, and put on the blackest wings.

Just like

me.

If you don't start making sense, I'm gonna clip those new wings of yours.

You got it?

Do your worst.

Death is just the path forward.

How do you know that?

I can hear them.

They're all around us, watching, waiting.

Martin, we have to go!

Get more of them!

I'm coming.

They came from the darkness, from beneath the fires!

They came for our sins!

I can't get him free!

Please.

Just leave me here!

Save Lenore!

Mariharm doesn't suit you, Doctor.

Now just hold still.

I'll be out in a sec.

There!

You're free!

Can we walk?

Yes.

Yes.

I'll be fine.

Just take the bag and let's go.

All right, that's everything.

Head for that alley.

There doesn't seem to be anyone following us.

We gotta get out of sight.

Let's duck into that restaurant over there.

Ghost looks clear.

What the fuck is happening?

Did you see those people?

The looks on their faces?

I told you.

It's because the damned have gathered in such large numbers.

It's taking a toll on their very sanity.

If that's true, then the water must be offering us some protection.

Apart from being terrified, I certainly don't feel like killing anyone.

What's all that shit?

It's running down the walls.

Looks like some kind of liquid putrescence.

And it stinks.

I suspect it's another byproduct of the gathering.

This is what the essay was talking about.

The damned can upset the functioning of reality.

The laws of physics can be abrogated, warped, perhaps even destroyed.

Just the very presence of those monsters acts like acid on the fabric of conventional reality.

I don't know about any of that, but I do know we're gonna need transportation if we want to reach Coldsmar.

Let's see if it's safe to head out the back.

Sure, just let me take point.

Hold up, there's something in the next room.

You two stay here while I check it out.

Fucking TV.

Christ.

What'd you find?

Bodies.

Two of them.

Looks like a cop managed to get a shot off on one of those maniacs.

But not before the nut tore the guy's throat out.

Is it safe to come in?

I'll see if there's a way around.

No, I want to try something.

A test.

Sure, you want to do that?

It ain't pretty in there.

Well, be that as it may, I

need

to do this.

Okay, but you've been warned.

Oh god.

Told you so

I could have done without seeing this.

What are you looking to accomplish, Dad?

Something I read.

Let me see the bag.

What are you doing with the stormwater?

You've only got so much of that stuff.

I don't plan to use much, just enough to dampen the the tip of my finger.

One of the papers describes how the damned are branded during their mortal lives.

A sigil, seared into the flesh of their left palm, a secret mark binding them to hell, to Diablon.

Though invisible to the naked eye, the mark can be revealed.

Certain substances can awaken it.

Bringing to light the hidden brand of the damned.

And you think the storm water is one of those substances?

Precisely.

I'm ready whenever you are.

I'll start with the police officer.

Nothing whatsoever.

Now, let's try his murderer.

Good lord!

Say your little experiment worked.

Look here.

A black, coiling, serpent-like symbol.

Burned directly into the flesh.

So this man,

even now,

is in hell waiting to be released.

Back into the world as one of the damned?

I believe so.

These creatures are like larvae.

In life, they nourish themselves upon wickedness until death draws them down to hell, where they mature into something wholly other.

The damned.

Awaiting their rise from the underworld.

That's why these people, those bearing the mark, are unraveling in the proximity of so many damned.

They're attuned to them.

They're indeed evil driven into a killing frenzy.

So, are they human or not?

I really can't say.

The definition of human really doesn't take the soul into consideration.

I would suspect that any medical examination would reveal them to be fully human.

But as for their spiritual facts on me, I guess they might appear

differently.

So I'm guessing these larva killed all the normal people here in Portafoy?

That would be a safe assumption.

But they're just human, right?

So unlike the damned, they don't require anything special to destroy them.

Apart from the stormwater revealing their marks, they're mortal, I think.

Which is why this one died from a gunshot wound.

However, when he returns from the low,

he will not be so easily dispatched, I'm afraid.

Good.

That means I won't have to waste my soaked rounds.

Something's going on outside.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

It's...

a parade.

Never seen a parade where everyone was carrying batons with human heads stuck on top of them.

Clowns using blood for face paint.

This place has gone completely blood simple.

We have to get out of here.

On the plus side, whatever's gotten into them, it's not only driven them to kill, but it's made idiots out of them.

Nothing they've done so far suggests they're any smarter than junkyard dogs let off the chain.

I'm not sure it's wise to

underestimate them.

Come on, I'm gonna check the upstairs.

Maybe we can get a better look at things from up there.

Be careful, there's more bodies up here.

These poor people.

My gosh.

They've been skinned.

Come on, over here.

The window looks out over the city center.

There's only a few of them out there now.

And there's a tractor trailer and a mess of cars in that parking lot over there.

Hopefully I can get one of them running.

If we can get to them

Here, I took the cop's piece and his mace.

I hope you remember what I showed you after we all got back from Naples.

I remember.

I guess that leaves me with the mace.

I haven't seen any of those assholes packing, so we might be able to...

Get out of sight.

If they come in here, I'll handle it.

I hope you really think you can hide from us.

It'll make it that much more funny when we find you.

First, when to find them, get their eyes.

You can have their eyes.

I just want to hear them scream.

Ready or not?

Here we come.

You finding anything?

Cause I'm getting nothing over you.

As a matter of fact, I am.

Nothing about the Erlorns, but I found some stuff about Edgar Sparrow that might explain a few things.

Some guys who had family that died in either the fire or the plague, or both, came looking for Edgar Sparrow.

They set fire to his place deep in the woods, and he never made it out.

But weren't the other Sparrow kids up from hell by then?

How would anyone have gotten by them?

Says they went during the day.

Not much they could do about it.

I'm guessing.

But that's not the most interesting part.

It says here

Long after the fire that consumed the town of Isabel, the pitch pot woods became a place few dared to name aloud.

The forest took its title from the blackened cauldron around which the sparrow witches were said to have danced, their rites staining the earth long after their bodies were burned to ash.

Once verdant, the woods grew strange and unwholesome, abandoned by both man and beast, shrouded in fog that crept low and heavy, swallowing paths, trees, and the senses of all who strayed inside.

Tales spread quickly, whispered from hearth to hearth, that those who wandered beneath the black canopy became lost in ways beyond maps and compasses.

Some never returned at all.

Others emerged months later, hollow-eyed and raving, their sanity burned away by whatever lingered within.

There were darker rumors still, many more of encountering a lone figure in the fog, neither Holy Man nor Holy Spirit, carrying a lantern whose light was wrong, more shadow than flame.

Believed to be the familiar of the Sparrow Witches, the apparition would drift just beyond reach, luring the foolhardy deeper into the mist, vanishing the moment they drew too near.

Kind of makes sense.

I mean, the whole mists thing might be a reference to the fog that's always rolling in right before Black Noon.

And Rupert and later Gaffney might have been the Sparrow's little errand boys, using some kind of witched-out lantern to come and go from the woods.

That's what I'm thinking.

Although, I'm sure there were a lot of other errand boys before Rupert and Gaffney.

It might also explain where the Sparrows have been holed up all this time.

Well, it does after you check out this illustration.

The haunted black cottage of the Pitch Pot Woods.

The cottage is said to be blackened and perpetually smoldering from the fire that engulfed it, killing its lone inhabitant,

Ergus Sparrow.

Where'd you find all this shit?

Most of the notes are mine from my visit to the historical society.

The stuff I found in the Kirkbride collection.

The notes led me to that book, The Haunted Woods of Northern New York.

It was with all the other stuff from the library.

How goes the fight?

Pretty good, actually.

Might have found something.

You?

Well, I've got the machine all put back together.

And it was easy enough to rig some adhesive pads and contacts to substitute for all the stuff they had stuck inside Prince.

So it's all set?

Well, not quite.

I want to do a test run first.

Something at a lower power setting to see how Phyllis reacts to it.

That's why I'm here.

I need as many helping hands nearby as I can get.

You know, just in case.

No offense, Pat, but

I really hope you know what the fuck you're doing.

Look, if you think I'm willing to take chances with her life, just because I don't know her as well as you two do, you're wrong.

Margaret and me.

That's not it, Pat.

We're just worried about her.

I mean, you got Margaret, and we got Phil.

She's family.

I know.

And I'm being as safe as humanly possible.

But she's right.

There's a real good chance this could work.

And from what I can see, the machine itself doesn't do anything violent.

It simply uses the body's ebbing energies like a sinker, carrying a line of communication into hell.

The personal items placed in what I'm calling the fetish chamber guide that line down to the intended person to be contacted.

But her abilities, which have grown quite a bit beyond just clairvoyance, they've already experienced hell more than once.

They know the way.

She might even prove more effective than anything the machine's been capable of before.

But best of all, the fuckers have no idea what we're doing.

Okay, let's do it.

Now, if you feel even the least bit uncomfortable, you just hit that button and it'll cut the power.

It's too late for that.

I'm already scared as hell.

If you'll forgive the phrase.

This is going to be a real short test.

The spare battery from the portable units is all we have for power, so we have to conserve all we can.

We'll be right here, Phil.

So if we see anything go sideways, we'll have you disconnected in a flash.

I know you will.

Okay.

You ready?

Let's not ask foolish questions.

Alright.

Activating the unit.

How do you feel?

Like

someone slipped me a Mickey.

My mind is

getting heavy,

sinking.

I left the fetish chamber empty, so just go wherever you want.

And remember, these people aren't friendly.

So stay on the table.

The surface,

he lied.

I never ate any more.

No mommy, no mommy.

Got the knife.

I'll be good.

Is

anyone there?

And who wants to know?

The Gentleman from Hell is a Maltopia production.

Today's episode was written by Mark Ansloan and voiced by Stephen Zivick, Sam Stark, Aubrey Akers, Kelly Bear, Jesse Van Hove, Harper Taysent, Trenton Butt, Lou Sutcliffe, Matt Van Hove, and Gina Smith.

Sound editing was completed by Stephen Ansloan 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.

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