The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 58

Rusty Quill presents

Good evening, gentlemen and gentle ladies of hell.

First and foremost, thank you for tuning in.

Your support keeps the flames of the gentleman from hell burning bright.

If you're enjoying your descent into the infernal depths of our world and want to dive even deeper, consider supporting us on Patreon.

There, you'll unlock exclusive content, including original art from Mark Angelon, housed in the legendary Gallery of the Damned, deep lore and world-building treasures within the memorabilia of the House of Sparrows, and coming soon, the Testimonies of the Damned, a Patreon-exclusive audio series that expands the twisted mythology of the gentleman from hell.

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Ready to explore the deeper circles of horror?

Join us at www.patreon.com forward slash Meltopia And embrace the darkness.

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No,

no,

help,

help

something's wrong.

Wake her up.

Phyllis, wake up!

Can you hear me?

Wake Help!

Stay away from me!

Phil, you're okay.

You're out of it.

Everything's okay.

It's me, Leon.

Remember?

Leon, uh, yes, I...

I remember.

I just feel a bit dizzy, um...

tired.

Wh what happened?

You were screaming your ass off.

That's what happened.

Did you make contact with anything?

You couldn't hear what was happening?

The machine only lets us hear your side of the conversation.

But even then, about a minute after I turned the machine on, you dropped off into sort of a trance-like state.

Whatever you said, or to whatever you might have said it to, is only audible on the cassette.

That's good because it's all hazy.

I can only remember bits and pieces.

That's because crossing the barrier back and forth neurologically is very much like waking from a dream.

At least, that's what I think.

Well, I definitely made contact with someone.

Or something.

Are you sure you're okay?

Uh, I could use a cup of tea now that you mention it.

One pee coming up.

I'll just rewind the tape and play it back, and then we can hear for ourselves what Phyllis communicated with while she was down there.

I may not remember the whole thing clearly, but I remember enough to know that I'm not exactly looking forward to hearing it.

How far back do you remember after the machine was turned on?

Not all that long.

Maybe just a few seconds.

But the feeling I recall was being drawn downward by some kind of force, like a current of strong water.

The sensor being pulled along was likely the result of the runes.

They act as sort of a guidance mechanism.

They provide the zip cord, and the materials from the fetish chamber supply the address.

Only this time, we left the fetish chamber empty.

If this turns out to be a success, we'll place some of Ben's belongings in the chamber when you attempt contact with him.

This vision was different than any before it.

As I was pulled deeper, a foulness thickened around me, like space and time became part of a single clammy texture, the skin of a stranger in the dark.

And always there was the sense of being watched.

At first it was as though countless eyes moved over me, and then into me, searching for something.

Dark.

Then, like a cloud of feeder fish scattering at the approach of a predator, they fled, driven off by something far greater than themselves.

Its presence was like a.

a pressure.

An enormity.

Evil beyond words.

I can't.

It's okay, Phil.

You're up here now with us.

But for how long?

Here you go.

Drink this.

Thank you, Mason.

All is everyone ready?

I want to make sure I set up the machine right and it actually recorded properly.

The horn of the damned.

What was that, Phillips?

That's what that horrible machine is called.

The horn of the damned.

Whatever it's called, let's hope it did the trick.

Okay,

here we go.

Is uh

anyone there?

Who wants to know?

My name isn't important.

I

just want to ask you some questions.

Your name's not important.

Then you must be a pitable creature indeed.

Names shape us, and in turn...

We shape them.

Until our last name becomes an adjective for all that we are.

For all that we have become, whether for glory or greed.

Why, to know another's name,

truly know it,

is no small thing.

That

is knowledge.

that

is power

Then what's your name now that's not fair I asked you first

Now

name yourself

And don't lie or I'll know

Phyllis

Phyllis Chambers

Phyllis Chambers such a disarming name

It would likely go unnoticed on a list.

On a letter.

On a life.

You'd walk right by it in a field of tombstones.

Where it merged with the somber grey of worried marble.

And forgotten time.

And your name?

My name is...

complicated.

It was the cocoon I crawled from.

Once it served the same purpose as yours.

Summarizing an identity.

Living in the minds of others.

Giving color to internal monologue.

It meant something.

But no more.

Not since I've...

changed.

So you won't tell me?

Not that Nien.

But the husk I left behind?

Certainly.

I was once called by the name...

Byron Colweather.

Deevious little creature.

He was.

Acquired.

Little Miller of Malice.

His mind weaving words into wickedness.

He was the foreshadow.

The small intimation of the thing to come.

And now...

I

am that thing.

With time and good planning, I will return to the world of surprise parties and the doldrums of mindless labor.

And expand

on Byron's good work.

What did you mean when you said you've changed?

I think I've said enough for the moment.

Now...

On to you.

Phyllis.

What kind of soul flutters so freely amidst the hellbound?

You're clearly no

resident.

Nor are you typical of those who occasionally splash about in the mindless darkness.

I'm not like you.

I didn't come here to

what?

Suffer?

Transform?

No, I kept talking about you.

About the damned.

Interesting.

What specifically do you want to know?

Phil.

I want to know what you...

You want to know what I am, don't you?

You want clarity.

Do you realize how clear you are to me?

Phil.

How close you feel.

Why, it's as if you're right here beside me.

Where I could stroke your coarse grey hair.

The hair you wished so desperately would darken back to the black of lost skies at midnight.

And don't lie.

You do know what I am.

You've been touched by one of us before.

Haven't you?

That touch left its mark.

You're so

darkened.

As dark as those long-lost locks of yours.

And in darkening, it has grown oh, so

heavy.

In fact,

you sink as much as you flutter now.

If you truly want to know me,

all you have to do is

sink

just a little lower.

No, I mean,

no, I'd rather not.

But we've shared so much already.

Even now,

I know so much about you.

Your desperation.

Your

dilemma.

I should tell you that here, sins are like stars within an unending night.

It's all we can see.

And your sins, dear Phyllis, form a very interesting constellation.

If you can see my dilemma, then how can I get out of it?

And why would you think I might tell you?

Hmm?

Why would I deliberately confound a perfectly good

garment?

Because you're evil, and the cost of evil is unpredictability.

You only want for yourself, no matter what cost to others.

On the contrary, I think that makes me rather predictable.

But we're talking about you,

not me.

And on that particular score, I can smell it on you.

Someone wants out.

And you're the key.

Their key.

Their door.

But perhaps...

Perhaps you and I can strike a sweeter deal.

Better than the one you've currently been offered.

Or was it offered at all?

You know, it's strange.

While I can see your soul, the repression, the resentment, your mind,

however, is much more elusive.

Tricky.

You've been doing some changing of your own.

Haven't you?

I'm going to leave now.

So soon.

Before you receive all those answers you wanted, why I wouldn't hear of it.

What's happening?

What are you doing to me?

I merely want to answer that burning question of yours.

What you need to do to slip the leash of damnation.

But first, you must come closer so I can whisper it into your pretty little ear.

No, no,

let go of me.

Quiet now

and listen.

Please, no.

Please, no one.

Please.

All you have to do to free yourself from the clutch of hell is

kill yourself.

I um

wish I'd never listened.

You're safe now, Phil.

You're with us.

The machine, it got me too close.

It almost had me.

I don't think so.

If it could have taken you, these rituals would be unnecessary.

And the machine would just hand people over to the damned.

Exactly.

It's not as easy as just lowering people down there.

You weren't there, Pat.

I could feel the damned thing.

I could smell its breath like burning corpses in piss.

I think she's right, Phil.

They wouldn't be going through all this.

The ritual, making sure we're safe, the tape.

There's a process here.

I don't think there's a workaround.

And if it could get you, you wouldn't be here.

It's one of them.

They love their fucking games, screwing with our heads.

Phil, uh.

I don't want to rush things, especially after what you just went through.

But the machines seem to work fine.

So if you're still willing to do this,

we really need to act fast.

Oh, come on, Pat.

No, she's right.

Every second counts.

But Pat?

Yes?

Can I finish my tea first?

You can't hear them.

The burning ones are rising.

And they've come to see it done.

But before we can rise, we must go below to cook.

But I want to go down in style.

The blood of men and women and children staining my hands.

And once we're done cooking and we've been invited back up, they'll come to watch us rise too.

And the world will tremble as our newly fashioned shadows stain the earth blacker than black.

They told us about you.

Told us you were coming to ruin all the fun.

Isn't that right, Dr.

Lapstrom?

Let's not forget about that sweet little girl of yours.

I think I'd like very much to dress you in her skin.

Here's Johnny!

Why, hey there, Johnny.

This here's Mr.

Ruger.

And if you move a fucking muscle, he's gonna blow you right back through that door.

Most of you, at any rate.

You're the guardian, the one who watches after the old man and his little girlie.

Didn't there used to be two of you

You'll have to excuse old mr.

Ruger.

He's got a bit of a short fuse and a hair trigger now you two get in here Pick your friend up off the floor and stand over there against the wall.

Do you think we're afraid to die?

It'll just set us on the path all the sooner.

I think I can settle for killing you just this once.

I'm happy to leave the job of putting you down a second time to someone else.

You two two can come out.

I've got them.

What are you going to do with them?

Just wait by the door and listen for any other uninvited guests.

Doctor, stay close so you can hear this.

If you think it will do any good.

Can't hurt to try.

Now, since you folks seem to be pretty well informed about what goes on around here, why don't you tell me about Cold Sparrow?

And for some extra incentive, your lives just might depend on it.

You said the burning ones are rising.

Who are they?

You came this far.

Lost a friend along the way.

And you don't even know what's happening.

They say you're a learned man, Dr.

Loftron.

Don't you know how this works?

What goes down must come up again.

I know perfectly well about the transactions between the mortal world and the realm of the damned.

But we want to know who, specifically, is coming up.

They're marked like few before them.

Black tentacles coiling round and round, like cartwheeling nebula.

Perfect for bringing up all the hell that waits below.

Well, since there's three of you, I don't mind splattering a few of you if it means getting answers.

And yes, I know.

Death is just a path forward.

But I'm guessing you'd rather stick around to do whatever it is you fuckers do

well sleeping on beds of cushy copses and wrapping yourself in the rubbery embrace of another skin sounds great fun

i'm sure it is now cut the shit and spill who's coming up from hell who's coming up from hell

well i suppose they've given us no choice i'll have to perform the ritual What ritual, you stupid girl?

It seems those masters of yours don't keep you very informed.

We know how to perform the rites of sin-eating.

So, afterward, death will no longer be the beginning of anything, just the end of the line.

No,

you can't!

Oh, I very much can.

Dad, hand me the duffel, won't you?

Certainly, I really detest having to do this.

Liar!

There's no such ritual.

She's lying, can't you see that?

No!

I won't let it end!

I'll tell you!

Shut up!

Don't be a fool!

It's the solders!

The solders!

They bear a great mark, and they're coming back up!

To turn the world black!

Black as pitch!

Of course, the solders!

That makes perfect sense.

That's why the ex-FBI agents are here.

To stop those monsters a second time.

Do you hear that?

Sounds like a shit ton of birds.

They're getting closer.

Fast.

Do they sound weird to you?

You already know we can hear those who have gathered.

But did you know?

They can hear us too.

Down the stairs, hurry.

Nope.

Go with me.

I can't see that.

They're everywhere.

Josh, where are you?

Jesus Christ.

The lightning, it's driving them off.

It's blasting the shit out of the whole city.

We need to get out of here.

Head for the parking lot across the street.

Holy shit, get down.

The lightning, it just

faded away.

What was that?

We'll worry about that later.

Get to that big rig.

It's the only vehicle not on fire.

Never thought we were this lucky.

Unlocked, and the keys under the visor.

I have a suspicion it wasn't luck at all.

Do you know how to drive one of these?

I had my CDL years ago.

It's like riding a bike with 15 gears.

Hang on!

She's been down for quite a while now.

I hope she comes out of it soon.

The machine doesn't have a lot of battery left.

I think she's coming out of it.

Let me out.

Let me

out.

Quick, turn the machine off.

I'm on it.

Phil?

Phil, wake up.

You okay, Phil?

Uh, I'm

okay,

just uh.

exhausted.

Got your tea all hot and ready.

Oh, you're an absolute deer, Mason.

I try.

Do you remember anything?

Did you find Ben?

I'm afraid I can't remember.

Same as before.

We'll just fire up the machine and play back what happens.

Okay,

let's see if this paid off.

Benjamin Veers?

Can you hear me?

My name is Phyllis Chambers.

I want to speak to you.

Are you there?

Yes.

I am here.

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 Baer, Jesse Van Hove, Harper Taysent, Lou Sutcliffe, Matt Van Hove, and Stephen Ansloom.

Sound editing was completed by Stephen Anslone 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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