In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 45):

Mike scratched his beard as he tried to piece together what Jack, or the aspect of Jack, was trying to tell him. Using the stone could cause a connection with it, or the entity that resided in it. That connection would persist over time. At least within and in the proximity of the stone itself.

Was Jack's aspect an actual piece of his psyche or just a mirror image that represented the connection he had with the stone, as he said.

So where was Jack? The living physical Jack.

Mike sat down in a small chair as well and picked his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

"Alright, Jack or representation, can you tell us everything you know about the stone?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 46):

Fragment Jack frowns slightly. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," he says. "But I guess warranted given the circumstances." He waves his hand and suddenly you're in a tobacconist's shop, the childish furniture replaced with large plush chairs.

"As I assume you've surmised, this place isn't real. As far as I can tell it's like a waking dream." He snaps his fingers and suddenly a large cigar appears between them, the wrapped leaf struggling to hold its contents. "I've gotten rather good at manipulating it."

Silence fills the room as Jack lights the cigar, carefully rolling it in his fingers to ensure it's evenly lit.

"Believe it or not the stone is just a stone. Probably some garden variety granite. What matters is where it is from." With a wave of his hand the stone appears on the side table.

"This stone right here," Jack says placing his index finger on it, "is from the island of R'lyeh!"

Jack's dramatic announcement is met with confused silence.

"You know," he says as his hands spin while he searches for the right words. "Elder gods, eldritch dealings...'That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die'," he says in a mocking singsong tone.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 47):

Clarke wracked his brains for knowledge about R'lyeh. He was sure he had heard something about it not too long ago.

Roll for Occult: 41 - Pass

It was a distant memory, but he'd heard the place was a prison. A spot far away from populated places that contained the foulest and vilest of creatures. This did nothing to cheer him up, but at least they finally had the beginning of a narrative. After street chases, and death, a horror story suited their current predicament.

"Isn't Cthulhu imprisoned there?" he asked Jack. "And why would you visit such a godforsaken place? Wasn't the front enough?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 48):

"Bingo," says Jack touching his index finger to his nose. "Though I'm glad you're taking the news of an all powerful unknowable god-like being napping before he consumes the world."

Jack takes a long drag from the cigar, letting the smoke out in a slow stream. Perhaps it's your imagination but the smoke seems to form long tentacle like streams.

"Keep your hair on Clarke. I'd never go there, one trip across the ocean was enough for me."

For a moment the room seems to shiver, the wall running as if made from mud.

Jack shakes his head and everything seems to return to normal. "More importantly, someone did, and they came back with this stone."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:17, Sat 08 June 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 49):

"And then what?!" he wanted to yell. "What is the purpose of this stone? What is the purpose of all the death and damnation? Of dragging our souls through the mire and the mirk?" Yet he said nothing.

He picked up a small monochrome top in Jack's old room and spun it. It went whirred, its sounds travelling as far as the wall before disappearing entirely. There was no echo, simply a nothing. It was as if the wall ate the noise until there was not a single tone left.

He took his glasses off and cleaned them thoroughly. "What did they come back to do with this stone? What do you want to do with this piece of ethereal darkness?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 50):

"It's quite simple really. You can't really call yourself a cult without much of a connection to an otherworldly power." As he talks Jack waves the cigar about, filling the room with smoke. In what must be a trick of the light you swear you can almost see figures violently thrashing in the haze.

"The difference here is they've actually found one. Now I know this must sound like some horse shit straight out of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari but if you had actually come in contact with the stone you'd know what I was talking about. I wasn't so lucky as to have a lead lined box to insulate myself," he says with a sad chuckle.

"You didn't touch it right?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 51):

"No," this was not a lie, Clarke was arguing semantics now but the occult was all about semantics. Had he picked it up? Yes. Had he picked it up with his bare hand and touched it? No. Was this semantical difference the same as mispronouncing a letter in an ancient alphabet and summoning a blood leech rather than an angelic servant? Absolutely.

Therefore, in his world, admittedly a very small one, this was a crucial difference. Whether or not the vast cosmos agreed with him or not he had given up caring.

"How about you Mike?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation to his silent partner.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 52):

Mike felt like a kid at the adult table during thanksgiving. Cthulhu? R'lyeh? Were Jack and Clarke literally having a conversation about made up words as if they were real?

Are they real?

Mike shifted uncomfortably, painfully aware of how small the kids chair was and took a drag off his lucky strike. "I didn't touch the damn thing. I saw what it did to Byron. We all did," he finished looking at Clarke.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, "Look, I don't know what this Cthulhu and R'lyeh stuff is you guys are talking about. I went to college, got a nice little degree, but weird fucking shit wasn't my major. What the hell are you guys on about and who slumbers where? I believe in the weird cults, always thought they were folktales before, but after what I've seen recently I'll damn near believe anything. So, please humor a dear ignorant old friend an explanation?" he finished hopefully.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 53):

"You were always a bit ignorant about these kind of things. If it didn't affect the Battleboro run you never much care," says Jack. "But there is more to the world then what you see. Behind it all is a... Wait, what it did to Byron? You mean he..."

Jack is a cut off by a wailing scream as Byron suddenly appears before you, crouched and clutching his head in his hands. "I had to do it... I had to do it... I had to do it..." he repeats over and over before seeming to come to his senses. Slowly he looks around, his analytical gaze seeming to take in every detail.

"I was... somewhere else just moment ago. Where is this place? It seems familiar?" he asks.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:34, Mon 10 June 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 54):

Clarke spun when he heard Byron's sudden entrance. The studious student still looked as if he was ripped from a poor man's Harvard Crimson.

"Sit down," Clarke said. "Jack here wants to hear all about your stone exploits." He leaned in as he placed a stool next to Mike. "All of them."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 55):

As if in a daze Byron shuffles over to the stool and takes a seat, his eyes never leaving Jack.

"What can I say, it was my rebellious phase," says Jack striking a dramatic pose. He slowly lowers his hands as a sudden emptiness washes over his face.

"The war.... I imagine that is exactly what hell is like..." His thousand yard stare keeps you from speaking. "The things we did... The things I saw... They said they were just rumors... But I saw it with my own eyes. It was deep in the forest, surrounded by trees. We wouldn't have found it if it wasn't for the tracks. There was a dull smell in the air, as if lime were being burnt. It was some sort of factory, surrounded by an electrified fence. The Captain wanted to stake it out before we moved in."

Jack's haunted voice is the only sound in the room. The cigar, held in his motionless hand, is mostly ash at this point.

"They came by rail. Train cars back to the brim. We assumed it was munitions or something like that. But when they opened the doors they practically spilled out. The cars were filled with hundreds of..."

"Where are you Jack?" interrupts Byron.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:29, Wed 12 June 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 56):

Mike listened intently. "What was in the train cars, Jack?" He asked quietly.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 57):

Jack runs a hand over his face, returning a little color to it. "We had found the Kadaververwertungsanstalt, or the Corpse Factory as we called it. They were using their own people. Using their fat to make lubricating oils and tallow. Everything else was ground down in the bones mill into a powder, which was mixed into pigs' food and manure."

He takes a shaking drag from the cigar but the cherry has gone out.

"Where are you Jack," says Byron rising from his chair. For the first time Jack seems to notice him.

"Always nose deep in books, I'm surprised you noticed me here."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 58):

"Let's just say after the war I fell in with the wrong crowd." With the flourish of a magician, Jack waves his hand and the cigar is replaced by a cocktail glass. "Started praying to elder gods, yada yada yada, stole some alien relic, bing, bang, boom. Now we're here in this cozy little otherworld space."

Jack pounds the drink with a quick throwback of his head followed by a grimace. "Still haven't managed to get your recipe quite right Mike. Something's missing."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 59):

Mike drops his ashed cigarette and stomps it out with his foot. "Well, that's a family secret." He looks Jack in the eyes, "So how can we destroy the stone?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 60):

"Well, that's a tall task my friend." Jack leans forward conspiratorially.

"I've received an invitation from a man named Krag, a old buddy of my friend Nightspore, to travel to Tormance. After this seance we shall set out by ship for the Scottish observatory of Starkness. Once we arrive there..."

Jack continues on like this at great length

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 61):

Clarke rubbed his glasses with a handkerchief and set them down. "So the ocean it is," he said. "All this pointless yammering and hemming and hawing. They need it, we have it and we need to put it somewhere they can't get it."

He stood up, his form looming in the tiny room. "There's a ritual they wish to perform and they are missing a key piece, our piece. And if we sink it far enough, long enough, we'll be dead by the time they find it. After all, if they could track it, they would have. They would have found that damnable thing and murdered us in the process." He snorted. "Tall task, of course it's a tall task. It's what demons want you to do. They want you to think there's only one way to keep them in their cage, and just so happens that it's complicated with nineteen steps and five enchantments. When in reality, the demon has limits and all you have to do is leave them in their shackles."

"Tall task," he mumbled again.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 62):

Jack's face falls flat at Clarke's remarks. He looks around the room. *Am I the only one who has read Voyage to Arcturus?" Met with silence, he straightens his collar and clears his throat.

"I don't know if the answer lies in Scotland or not. I think our bigger concern is getting out of here. If you hadn't surmised, I haven't quite got the knack of it yet..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 63):

Clarke thought hard about Jack's reply. He didn't know if everything this apparition said was true or not. "Trust not in gods or monsters," kept echoing around in his skull. However, travelling to Scotland meant that they would be over a large body of water and dropping the stone would be an easy feat. As long as it stayed in the lead box.

He did not know how to escape either, but he had heard that focussing on the outside world could do it. If one imagined the place they had been, then they would be instantly transported. At least that was what he hoped. He focused.

Roll to escape: 8: Success (Any attribute / skill should be okay, but probably occult or sanity or intelligence)

He could feel the world shift underneath of him.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 64):

As Clarke focuses, a number of locations flash through his mind. His house in Arkham. The Seance room. A desert tent. His concentration is broken by an iron grip on his shoulder.

"I think it would be best if we all stayed put."

Byron's fist barely glances Clarke's chin as he throws a wild punch.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 65):

Mike saw Byron take a wild swing at Clarke, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. He stood up, knocking the tiny chair over and rushed Byron.

Not again...

He went for Byron's legs, attempting to take them out from underneath him.

18:11, Today: Jrodimus rolled 37 using 1d100.  Fighting (Brawl). Pass
This message was last edited by the player at 09:11, Tue 18 June 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 66):

In a jumble of limbs Mike and Byron tumble to the floor.

"I'll find you Jack," Byron screams as he violently thrashes, attempting to break Mike's hold. "And when I do, I'm going to eat your soul!"

(Roll to escape is successful)

With surprising force for someone so slight, Byron brings his elbow down striking Mike in the temple. With his friend dazed Byron is able to scramble free.

"You lead me right to him and now that I have you..."

Byron is interrupted by shouted curse and a clatter as Jack bolts for the door

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 67):

Clarke, hearing the voice, reached for his revolver. He wasn't sure how the physics of a dreamworld worked, but he guessed that a dream bullet would kill a dream person.

He drew it out and pointed it at the speaker. His hands shook as he did so, his fatigue catching up with him.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 68):

As the possessed Byron is distracted by Jack's escape, Mike tries to capitalize on the distraction by standing, he grabs Byron's wrist with one hand pulling it behind his back and twisting as Mike tries to snake his arm around Byron's neck in order to put him into a headlock.

20:49, Today: Jrodimus rolled 89 using 1d100.  Put Byron in a headlock. Fail

But Byron is too fast and slipped from his grasp before he got a chance to lock in the hold.

"Get out of my friend, you sonofabitch!" Mike shouts at his possessed friend helplessly.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 69):

"You know nothing," growls Byron as he turns upon Mike. "I shall find Jack and I shall be returned. And when I awaken the elder gods..."

A familiar voice fills so the room. "So if you're meant to awaken them that means you're the harbinger of doom..."

"I will be your end!" shouts Byron swinging at Mike.

(Roll Fighting: Fail)

Byron swings wildly but fails to connect with a blow.