In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 87):

Trapped in the embrace of the zombie, Mike hears a loud bang fill the air and feels his captor suddenly jerk. However, it doesn't loosen it's death grip on him.

Mike attempted to twist out of the zombies grasp, but the corpse's rigor mortis proved too firm to break out of. "Get this fucker off me!" He cried out through clenched teeth.

20:30, Today: Jrodimus rolled 61 using 1d100.  fight brawl - get out of grapple. Fail

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 89):

Flailing uselessly against his capture, Mike feels a searing pain in his neck as the decaying zombie sinks its jagged broken teeth into his neck (1 damage).

The other two zombies turn towards Clarke, whose revolver just blew a hole in their companion. They both take wild swings, the first with its bare hands and the second with the broken branch, both missing.

Mike felt the teeth break the skin in his neck and he cried out in pain and disgust. He struggled harder but still wasn't able to free his arms from the monster's deadly grasp.

07:25, Today: Jrodimus rolled 62 using 1d100.  fight brawl. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 91):

In all honesty, Clarke was not certain what killing the cultist would do to the zombies. This was not, as they often said in novels, a penny dreadful. He had no idea if the man's murder severed their psychic link or had no affect. However, he had little choice. Fighting and murdering two zombies with his rapidly depleting ammunition and poor run of luck seemed more akin to wishful thinking than a strategy.

As the zombies closed in on him, he blinked and lined up his shot. Sweat stung his eyes and Zoe laughed mirthlessly from a corner of the room. He pulled the trigger, the smell of gunpowder making him twitch.

The shot went true and went into the wounded cultist. Finally, at long last, one of their true enemies - or an imagined antagonist - lay dead on ground. One more man chained to the devil to add to Clarke's doomed soul. One more grieving widow and resentful son in the world wishing for inevitable death.

Clarke hoped his gambit would pay off.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 92):

The bullet strikes the cultist with a dull thud. His heels dig futilely at the stone floor for a few moments before falling still. The cavern falls quiet as the two zombies halt their attacks, their eyes fixated on the cultist.

The silence is deafening....

AHHHHHH!!!!!

Mike's cry breaks the spell as the zombie's teeth dig deeper in to the sinew of his neck. (1 Damage)

Once again mike struggled against the monster as it's teeth sunk deeper into his neck. He felt blood welling up and spilling down his collar bone. But he was growing tired and his muscles started to cramp from fatigue. He was helpless under the heavy dead weight.

8:01, Today: Jrodimus rolled 97 using 1d100.  fight - get out of grapple. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 94):

Clarke holstered his weapon and dashed over to Mike. He was not a strong fighter, but he had above average strength and so went for the brute approach. He grabbed the zombie's head and yanked it back - away from Mike's shoulder. It was not a fighting move; it was barely a strategy. All Clarke was doing was hoping and praying the sheer force of his grip would give his friend another chance to live.

Roll for strength: 38

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 95):

With a wet squelch, Clarke is able to pull the zombie off of Mike, a piece of the latter's flesh in its jaws. However, now he finds himself the focus of their attention. While the mass of bodies keeps one from reaching him, the other two turn their red hate-filled gaze on Clarke. While he is able to dodge the grasping hands of the first, the second brings down the branch in a strike that nearly knocks Clarke silly, causing his ears to ring and his eyes to swim. (3 damage)

Grateful for the reprieve, Mike's hand went to his neck as he struggled to his feet. He took a few steps back and once again aimed at the  zombie who's attention had turned towards his friend and pulled the trigger. But his hands shaking from fatigue prevented him from taking proper aim and the shot went wide.

07:42, Today: Jrodimus rolled 69 using 1d100.  firearms. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 97):

Clarke saw an opening in the mild swipe from the zombies and made a dash for it. "Come on, Mike," he yelled as he pelted towards where the cultist had fallen. "We have larger demons to fight."

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he hoped that he could make it without another attack.

Now with some distance between him and the Zombie that hungered for his flesh, Mike took the opportunity to flee after Clarke.

"You don't have to tell me twice!" He called out to his friend ahead of him.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 99):

Clarke and Mike, despite his various wounds, are able to easily outpace their shambling pursuers. However, their flight only leads them deeper and deeper into the labyrinthian cavern. Without any markers or signs they quickly become lost. Twists lead to turns which leads to even more. The sounds of pursuit are quickly replaced by the strangely dead silence of the cavern.

Mike stopped running and leaned over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. He coughed and spit, blood oozing down the side of his neck. He didn't want to start thinking about what kind of diseases he may have gotten from the zombie. After a few moments who straightened himself up and tried to take stock of their bearings.

"Where are we?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 101):

Despite the darkness, Zoe and Lara shimmered in a translucent light. Both of them looked at him with pity in their eyes, pity at what he had become and was becoming.

"What have we done with our lives?" Clarke asked Mike as he pulled out his dark lantern to re-light it. "After the damnation that was the Great War, surely we must have treated them as precious. Except I cannot find a memory of where I have truly lived. I spent my veteran years shuffling from existence to existence, eking out scraps tossed at me from those wealthier than ourselves. What are we hoping to save in this morbid cavern? Our souls? A society as vile as it is vast? What is worth exhausting our last strength for?"

Clarke had managed to light the lantern and held it up to look around the walls. He could hear water trickling, but paid little heed to it. Hell, in his mind, had always been a damp and ever-present darkness. The devil awaited the saints in shadows, not in fire or flame.

Mike held up his own lantern to look around their surroundings.

"Sometimes survival is enough. Who else will remember the sins of the war for the countless legions that died? It is our burden to remember and live, and so it is also our burden to stop this menace from unleashing whatever horrors lie in the shadows waiting to destroy a world already consumed by suffering."

He turned in a direction he thought was away from where they had just come from. "Come, let us carry our burdens into the dark."

15:46, Today: Jrodimus rolled 42 using 1d100.  intelligence roll to guess best direction to go. Pass(?)
This message was last edited by the player at 06:46, Thu 12 Mar 2020.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 103):

Carefully following the scuffs and prints made by their flight down the tunnels, Mike is able to guide the party back towards where they came. However, before long they reach an intersection and the sounds of dragged and shuffling steps begins to fill the tunnel ahead of them. Other branches head off on either sides.

Mike stopped to get his bearings, looking at his options on either side of them. But he was urged to quickness when he heard the shambling zombies who were apparently still searching for a midnight snack. He pointed Eastward, "This way."

16:26, Today: Jrodimus rolled 13 using 1d100.  intelligence check. Pass.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 105):

The party sets off at an awkward jog, doing their best to keep from drawing attention. As they venture deeper into the cavern, Mike notices that water is running along the bottom to stone walls in the same direction as they are fleeing. The sound of pursuit has faded, once again replaced by a stifled silence. After a few minutes you approach a fork in the tunnel that splits off in three directions.

Not wanting to give their pursuers a chance to catch up, Mike took note of the water running along the bottom of the stone walls. Thinking a throughway would likely be the best way to go, he waved his hand to his friend Clarke and set off in the same direction.

21:04, Today: Jrodimus rolled 46 using 1d100.  intelligence roll to guess best direction to go. Pass.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 107):

Following the trails of water across the stone floor, the party is lead into the branch on the right. Slowly the craggy walls of of the tunnel begin to smooth out, first by worn stone, and then by craved brick. In the first sign of light, a soft glow begins to appear at the end of the tunnel.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 108):

Clarke, with his hallucinations still flickering in and out of his vision, flagged Mike down. "Let me go first," he whispered while immediately taking the lead.

He crouched down, feeling his weary limbs and tired eyes betray their age. A long time ago, he had been a master of stealth. Recently, he had struggled to sneak past sleeping guards. With a goal clear in his mind, and the cost of his failure obvious, he attempted one final foray into the world of the covert.

Roll for stealth: success

His footfalls and movements quietened as he crept forward.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 109):

You move forward into an elaborately carved cavern with strange non-euclidean geometry covering nearly every surface. The air is filled with the smell of stagnant water which must come from the large pool of at the center of the room. From the middle of the water rises a large pillar wrapped in basalt stone tendrils.

Around the pool kneel a group of hooded figures in robes, their foreheads touching the stone in supplication. One figure paces around the pool, long staff in hand like some sort of overseer. They use the staff to tap one member on the shoulder. The figure excitedly jumps to their feet. They grasp the overseers hand in both theirs and shake it vigorously. The overseer lowers the figures hood revealing a young man whose mouth is stretched into a beaming smile.

The supplicant quickly shuffles over to the edge of the pool before turning back to face the overseer.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn"

The flat toneless words are the first sound you've heard since entering the cavern. The overseer reaches out with his staff and gently pushes the young man in the chest causing him to fall back into the pool.

There is barely a ripple as he hits the water. Within seconds he disappears beneath the water. This is no sound... No bubbles...

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn"

The words fill the cavern again, this time from a chorus of voices. Silence quickly refills the stone cavern and the overseer resumes his passing around the circle.

Mike's body felt stiff and sore, though his wounds had ceased bleeding during their foray through the dark tunnels. He lifted a hand to the bite on his neck and winced. Watching Clarke creep forward deftly, he checked his revolver and prepared for Clarke's signal as he leaned heavily against the wall breathing heavily.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 111):

Clarke stared at the ritual. He could sense Mike's hesitation and fear. He could feel the cavern and its darkness. He knew, more than anyone else, the evil that lurked here.

The ritual seemed familiar and he cast his mind back to his days desperately seeking ways to revive Zoe. There must have been some mention, some hidden text he had read that described its purpose ... and weaknesses.

Roll for Occult Knowledge: 46 - PASS

As if he was opening a box of terrors, bright reds and dark blacks flashed through his mind. A wail, one that he would have sworn was real, penetrated his ears and made him shiver. Yet, he remembered. He remembered the pure, horrific spell they sought to cast.