Max (aka Jenny) and Denny (aka Bartholomew) are absent.
New player Matt (aka George) joins us. The Persian finally introduces himself.
Friday, 9 November: John and Oliver gather at
the corner diner that has become their favorite locale. Jen bows out as she
impatiently waits for the police to release her machete from the evidence
locker. Bartholomew cannot be bothered as he has buried himself working on his
latest contraption. Thus, it’s John introducing a guest to Oliver, “George was
admiring naval artifacts at my museum. Sailor he is. As we chatted, I learned
he has interest in cults such as we have stumbled upon. Seems his fiancé
witnessed a ceremony and now has disappeared. I suggested he join us. Another
strong arm in case we encounter that black cloaked ruffian you keep telling us
about. Maybe we can benefit each other.” The dinner turns into hours as John
and Oliver backfill the story for George. George offering, “I may be late to
the show, but a new set of eyes and ears never hurt. Maybe I’ll find something
you overlooked.”
A lot
of options, but the trio decides on a trip to Clare Melford with Oliver
driving. Maybe a blessing George stuck in the backseat, unable to see the icy
road ahead as his view blocked by the two heavy weights in the front seats. No
one notices the car that follows them. Two hours later, Oliver parks in front
of the Railway Pub where he had stayed before. The barkeep (aka innkeeper)
offers the registry to sign in, “What brings you to our farming community?
Passing thru?” Oliver speaks up, “Dick Blair, I see you still run the place. I
was telling my friends about your town and the famed hill on its outskirts.”
But Dick disavows knowledge as he nervously fiddles with a leather necklace,
“Do I know you? I’ve never seen you before. You stayed here a week? Sorry sir,
but you’ve mistaken our town. There is no hill such as you mention.” Now Oliver
begins to doubt himself, until his turn to sign in when he flips pages to
confirm his prior registration.
Oliver lets it drop as they head into the bar for drinks
and conversation with other patrons. “Hill? You must mean Springer Mound on
Harold Jennings’ farm. Overlooks everything. But that grumpy old coot runs
everyone off with his shotgun and ‘private property’ signs. Widowed now 10
years. Struggling ever since his fields went bad. After that disastrous harvest
festival of ’25. Hill? No, the festival was held center of town; nowhere near
his farm. We lost young and old; passed away in their sleep with faces frozen
in fear.” The night drags on, getting later as patrons say their goodnights.
And that’s when John gets an idea [successful Persuade],
“So Mr. Blair, I understand your bar is a free house independent of your
supplying brewery. Care to introduce us to some of your best brews? I’m a
whiskey man myself; how about a round or two?” The liquor flowing… down their
throats and Oliver’s shirt. Dick soon slurring his words, “Boring. Stuck in
this god-forsaken hovel of a town. Rather be back in London. And I would if not
for that Edwards. Told me… ordered me to run this place. Then he goes and sells
my pub back in Halloway, London.” George chiming in, “Say, what’s that necklace
you keep tugging at?” The drunken Dick showing off his black as obsidian
whistle, “Got it from Lister. Would have been an honor if …hey, ya wanna see
something wild?!”
The bar now deserted of other patrons, Dick mumbles a few
strange words, raises the whistle to his lips and blows. And that’s when they
all hear an unnatural scream from outside, getting closer. Glass shards implode
into the room as a winged beast crashes through the window. It’s flight right
at Dick who is sliced in half!
Sanity check for all. Oliver falling backwards
out of his chair, “An Angel! The guardian I saw in my vision while visiting
Alex.” John scrambling madly for cover behind the bar (failed DEX 93); stuck
flailing on the counter like a beached whale. George raises his shotgun as he
exclaims, “That ain’t no damn angel!” Double-barrel blast rips chunks from the
beast while splattering black blood. Another horrific scream yet it still
swings its razor claws. George raising the empty gun to block the attack.
Oliver up and wielding his Webley pistol, “Blam!” Little damage to the
thick-skinned beast.
And that’s when another form jumps thru the shattered
window. A black-clad, dark-skin man wielding a curved blade, just missing the
beast. His shotgun empty, George wields a knife (failed brawl 97). The
unspeakable monster finding an opening; George staggering backwards from the
near fatal wound (over half damage requiring CONsave). More glass litters the
floor as John now resorts to throwing beer mugs (failed throw 92) that just
miss his allies. Oliver steadies his aim, “Blam!” (extreme). Black blood
explodes from the beast, followed quickly by an implosion that sucks the air
from the room. Everyone gasping for non-existent oxygen…for a few seconds. The
monster gone. No evidence, other than the cleaved barkeep.
Time for Oliver to finally notice and recognize the new
arrival, “You! The same who threatened me in the London bar. And confronted Jen
and I at the house. Stop else I shot you.” The man moving toward the body.
“Blam!” “I said stop.” The man continuing toward the body as if invincible,
“You fools have stumbled upon a cult of the Unspeakable One. As for you… fool.
I was not the man in the bar. But I WAS the one who saved your asses after you
killed Estes. Cleaned up your mess.” Oliver still not convinced (INT check 00;
failure to recognize the voice difference from his bar assailant), “You don’t
fool me; same black coat and long knife.” It’s John who steps between the men
as he offers Blair’s whistle to the mystery man.
The man introduces himself, “I am Oded. I’ve been
following you for weeks. Letting you lead me to these cult members. It was I
who ‘borrowed’ the book from John’s room. You’ve provided many a lead for me
and my order. We should consider working together.” Oliver befuddled. John directs all, “That
horrific scream and our gun shots. Police will be here any minute. Let’s get
the hell out of here and discuss this later. Oded, I’m sure you’ll know where
to find us in London.” John swings by the lodging desk to grab the ledger,
“Can’t leave our names advertised to the bobbies.”
Oliver takes a few minutes to heal and bandage (First
Aid) George before the long trip home. Oliver still arguing the identify of
Oded while glancing in the back seat at George bleeding on his car seat. John
having to occasionally grab the wheel when Oliver takes his eyes off the road.
Especially when Oliver nods off (failed CONsave from all that whiskey
drinking). It’s 6am when Oliver arrives at the hospital for George, “You need
real help.” George’s sailor tattoos help convince the doctor about his story of
a bar fight, “No need to get the bobbies involved. I ain’t pressing charges.”
Oliver drives the others home before he heads to the cemetery to talk to dad.
“So dad, just what do angels look like? And why didn’t you tell me about Oded?
The more I encounter, the more I wonder just who are the sane folks.” Oliver
curls up in his blanket next to the headstone as he drones on and on in a
one-way dialog. Sleep soon winning out.
Saturday, 10 November: It’s past noon when all
finally arise with a dry taste in their whiskey bleached mouths. More wasted
hours trying to clear their heads. Thus, already dinner time when they meet up
with Oded. “My order had only theorized about the cult. The whistle proves this
cult is true and a grave threat.” As the Persian speaks, John can’t help by notice
the greasy-haired man at the counter behind them. “Oliver, isn’t THAT the man
who confronted you at the bar?” All turn to stare at the grinning man who
doesn’t care he’s been seen. Oded motioning for him to join their table. The
man rising, to then head for the exit. Oliver offering, “See you later Mr.
Coombs.” The man looking over his shoulder at the offer of his name. He exits
with a scowl.
Another
hour passes as they compare notes. Oded summarizing his findings in the book
titled Der Wanderer Durch Den See. Oliver reacting to the English
translation, “Alex spoke those same words but in German when Jen and I visited
him last. I remember the cadence. We both had the same vision of a frightened
man standing upon a hill, his shotgun at his feet, while a winged beast swooped
in to cleave him in half! Are the words some kind of prophesy or
far-sightedness? Fortune telling? God, I hope not. That would mean there is
more than one of those winged beasts! Then again, maybe you could use those
words to foretell just what Mr. Bacon plans on the night of the 27th.”
And that’s when George’s lightbulb comes on, “The windows blown in at the
Melford bar. Just like your retelling Alex’s description of the night his
father and sister killed. Glass strewn inside the room. Both bodies slashed.
Alex admitting he called something. Maybe he has a black whistle.”
Sunday, 11 November: Remembrance Day for those
lost in the Great War. Everything shut down. Thus, an easy decision to stay in
London and call upon Delia. “Why yes, I remember Alex saying how he got that
black whistle from Edwards. Kept saying it was ‘from the stars.’ Why yes, I
have been inside Mr. Bacon’s house...once. A lot of bookcases and display
stands for all his antiques. A very uncomfortable feeling inside, especially
with THAT group of men and their whispered conversations. Gresty? I never heard
that name.” Oded offering advice, “With you now alone, might I suggest you
visit a relative. Say, your mother. For a couple of weeks.”
As they
say goodbyes, Oded scans the streets. No sign of Coombs. They climb into
Oliver’s car to visit the police station. Oliver taking the lead, “Good
afternoon Sgt Jacobs. I see you drew the short straw for work. If it’s no
bother, I was hoping to look at your evidence files regarding the case of the
Roby double-homicide. [Failed Luck roll]. Oh, that evidence already tossed due
to expiration? How about Alexander’s personal possessions? Turned over to the
family? Thank you for your time.”
A short
drive to the Roby mansion and buzz at the gate to be let in. Once again, Mr.
Grahame Roby dressed in coat and bowtie… the rich never rest. “Alexander’s
things? Probably in the basement. My maid, Ms. Vetch, can show you.” A lot of boxes to dig through. Till
they come across the box with the police stamp on it. Inside, his cloths and a
black whistle. Oded taking possession.
Back at
the car, “What say we take another trip to Clare Melford to checkout that farm
Oded was telling us about. See what Mr. Jennings has to offer. It should be
dusk when we arrive.” George offering, “If only we had dynamite to blow up
those pillars. At least I can bring a chisel to deface them. Erase those glyphs
Oded mentioned.” But first, Oliver takes a few side roads JUST in case they are
being followed. A few hours driving to plan, “Oded is skilled enough to sneak
up on the farm. George, you’re best with a rifle to provide cover. That leaves
Oliver and John to draw Mr. Jennings out.”
It’s 8pm when the car putters in idle as Oliver and John
wait, “That should be enough time for them to get into position. It’s show
time.” Shifting into gear, Oliver heads down the long dirt driveway till the
headlights bathe the farmhouse. A grizzly old man steps onto the porch with
lamp in one hand and 10-gauge shotgun in the other, “Whose there? Who sent you?
Get the hell off my land!” Oliver speaking up, “I’m Dr. Richardson. I was told
there is a medical emergency. Are you alright? Did you shoot yourself?” Harold
Jennings having none of it, “Who you trying to bullshit? Who put you up to
this?” John now offering, “Since we’re out here, you might as well let the
doctor give you an examination. Free since someone made a false report.”
Enough delay and distraction to allow Oded to climb
through a window and sneak upon the man. Putting his knife to his throat, “Drop
the gun and let’s have a chat.” Startling the old man (failed Luck 00). Who
drops the oil lantern starting a fire on the porch. A mad scramble to put out
the growing fire before questioning the man who asks, “Are you with them? I
kept people away like you asked. Just ask the man you left behind; Mr. Blair
can verify I did as asked. Oh, that’s right; he’s dead. Did you do that? I
think I’ve earned the money Mr. Edwards paid me. I’ve kept my mouth shut. What
did I see? Edwards paid me so you could drag those stones in. Paid me to leave
that night you did whatever. But now my fields are fallow and dead. Nothing
grows around that copse of trees where you placed the stones. And now the hill
stinks.”
Oded exist to checkout the hill. A short climb to the
summit that overlooks the valley. The lights of Melford visible. The sweat
stench of rotting fruit rises from a depression at the top of the hill. The
depression filled with… liquid? It’s surface glistening in his electric torchlight;
as if a tar substance.
Meanwhile, Oliver attempts to hypnotize Harold (failure
94). [Push] He primes him with whiskey while ensuring him he’s done as asked;
their report to Mr. Edwards keeping him in good grace. (success hypnosis). “We
were never here. You heard a racoon on the porch. He startled you causing you
to drop the lantern that caused the fire you put out.” Oded returning in time
to question about the hill. Harold responding, “The liquid appeared after their
ceremony. Snow covers 9 other depressions that ring the top. I think that’s
where original pillars once stood.” Before ending the session, Oliver adds,
“When I snap my fingers, you’ll hear your dogs barking for a full ten minutes.
You only hear your dogs. And you are afraid of the hill. Never climb it.”
They all climb into the car as Oliver drives back to the
road, “The barking dogs was so he doesn’t remember hearing out car leave. His
fright of the hill…HE was the man I saw in my vision who dropped his shotgun
just before being killed by that winged beast.” Oded suggesting another stop,
“Head toward town and let me out so I can visit the bar once more.” The Persian
slipping into the empty bar (no new proprietor to restart business). He climbs
the stairs to Blairs room. Where he finds a copy of Der Wanderer Durch
Den See. And another book titled British Gods. A 1921 Pembroke
college publication. Authored by one Mr. Malcolm Quarrie. “Well, I think we
know where to find our next cult member.” Oded scans the book, pausing at one
name, Shub-Niggurath. A fertility god of the German Gaul.
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