Arriving in Mombasa, you send a telegram to your friend in New York, Carlton Ramsey and inform him of your progress. You then book passage on the first ship to Melbourne in Australia. Your leads point you towards Port Hedland and Darwin, so you will have to take a train or plane there when you arrive.

No air service exists to or from Australia in the 1920s. The Pacific ocean is first crossed by plane in 1928, and the first direct Australia to United Kingdom flight is in 1936. Ships are the only possible way to reach the continent. Australia was well-connected by cable telegraph with the world in the early 1870s.

Gustav - you read ‘Ye Booke of Comunicacions with ye Angel Dzyon’. You lose 1D6 SAN and gain +3 Cthulhu Mythos. Please see the book summary under ‘Important Documents’ on Rpol.

TJ – you read ‘The G’harne Fragments’. You lose 1D10 SAN and gain +3 Cthulhu Mythos. Please see the book summary under ‘Important Documents’ on Rpol.

Dermot – you can choose between ‘Amongst the Stones’, ‘Life as a God’, or ‘The Pnakotic Manuscripts’

Johan – you read up on Australian history. This will give you a bonus on some interactions as well as insight into the aboriginal tribes.

Art and Rachel - please let me know if you wish to read any books. Rachel still needs to roll for her improvements and SAN loss (Dodge 50, Listen 20, Occult 45, -1D6 SAN)

Once you arrive in Melbourne, you receive a letter from New York. It’s from Carlton Ramsey, Jackson’s friend and lawyer. Hearing about your new destination, he met up with Professor Cowles and summarizes their conversation;

Prof. Cowles relates that the plates shown at his lecture (see Important Documents) were made by Arthur MacWhirr and came to him via Robert Mackenzie, a mining engineer and the executor of the MacWhirr estate (MacWhirr died from influenza). Cowles also received MacWhirr’s diary. A transcript of the last pages of the diary are included with the letter (see below).

Professor Cowles’ lecture establishes that an Australian death cult of the Sand Bat once existed and links this cult to evidence of the Cthulhu Mythos. In addition, it seems that Arthur MacWhirr’s diary (and possibly further clues) can be found in Sydney.

The professor had heard of Cthulhu and R’lyeh and finds certain disturbing parallels between the tales of the Sand Bat and Cthulhu. Some Polynesian legends discuss them also, though the tales are different. Cowles has read the Ponape Scriptures, “a most disturbing and disgusting tome.” Unfortunately, the University of Sydney’s copy of the Ponape Scriptures was lent to a John Scott of Boston, Mass., and was never returned.

Macwhirr’s Diary;

Mar. 7, 1921—Jock Kuburaga says that abos are following us. Most unusual if true. Primitives have every reason to fear guns—and our bush ranger predilection for using them. In the past, I have always known them to head the other way as soon as they sight white men.

Mar. 21—We are about equally distant from Joanna Spring and Separation Well, east of an awful line of dry lakes. The heat is terrible. Our hopes are low—there is nothing here, certainly not quartz reels! L.’s notations are in systematic error. He is a complete drongo as a surveyor. Today we sighted several enormous birds flying lazily far above us. How did they get here, and where can they be going?

Mar. 22—At about noon today we found Jock, partly buried in a gully. His body was scoured and covered with hundreds of small punctures, as though somebody had sandblasted him, We buried him, of course. I shall miss his counsel, and he was an excellent hand with the camels.

Mar. 23—We have discovered what appears to be remnants of an ancient city, rising from the shifting sands! I believe I have secured several good photographs of this amazing find, though the heat has ruined all but six of my photographic plates. By the pitting of the stone, the blocks and pillars appear to be more than 10,000 years old! Incredible!

Mar. 24—Four camels killed in the attack last night. I saw at least two abos, and more must have been skulking out there. I’m sure I hit one. That ends this trip—we’ll have to head back to Cuncudgerie and report this incident. More than men were out there last night. I saw shapes much bigger than men during the attack. My evidence is the body of Old Sam the camel, punctured and scraped is the best way I can described the remains, just like poor Jock. Since the attack lasted only a couple of minutes, it’s hard for me to believe that anything human could have done so much damage so quickly. But then what was it?

May 15 – Have told Robert Mackenzie about the city. Together, we aim to return and undertake a full survey. When he saw the photographic plates, he was flabbergasted. Now as keen as mustard to work with me to realize the discovery.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:17, Sun 10 Nov 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 2):

Johan pours over the pictures depicting the large stones, examining them in great details with a look and shock and curiosity.

After a moment without changing his gaze, “meine Freunde,  I believe we should make our way to this Port Hedland and investigate the findings of this MacWhirr with all haste....”

You manage to hire a private flight out to Port Hedland. The flight is long, hot, cramped but uneventful.

In the Pilbara region of Western Australia, Port Hedland is a small town (its non-aboriginal population in 1921 was 303, rising to 437 in 1933; it didn’t reach a population of 3,000 until the late 1960s). Known by the Kariyarra and Nyamal people as “Marapikurrinya,” meaning “place of good water,” it has a natural anchorage harbor. The town serves as the terminus and port facility for a small railroad which winds back into Pilbara country. Rich deposits of gold have been found among the low, flat-topped hills. The richest mines are found at the present railhead, Cuncudgerie, 150 miles (240 km) southeast of the port and terminus. Of interest may be the airfield, constructed in 1921, at the Port Hedland Race Track. It provides flights to Perth using planes owned by Western Australian Airways.

In Port Hedland, the Esplanade Hotel on Anderson Street (12s/day) is the city’s largest and oldest establishment offering accommodation. Its accommodations are reasonable enough, for the town, but do not compare favorably to those of London or New York. Those looking for somewhere more dangerous might try the Pier Hotel (10s/day), the bar of which is frequented by rowdy sailors and dock workers; brawls are common.

Asking around for Robert MacKenzie, you are directed to his house. He greets you with a friendly smile and asks how he can help you.

Robert MacKenzie is a well-dressed gentleman, his face and arms heavily tanned. Mackenzie was Arthur MacWhirr’s friend, as well as the executor of his estate, and knew of MacWhirr’s discovery in the desert. Back in 1921 the pair had planned to survey MacWhirr’s discovery but, when MacWhirr died of influenza later that year, the work stalled and did not go ahead.

Mackenzie confirms that Arthur MacWhirr was absolutely convinced of his desert discovery, and that MacWhirr, a fellow engineer and surveyor, was a respectable and upright citizen. Yes, he knows exactly where MacWhirr made his discovery: 22°03'14.0"S 125°00'39.0"E, deep in the Great Sandy Desert of Western Australia. The site’s coordinates have remained a secret but, following the loss of his friend, he just never had the compulsion to go there. Plus, his work has kept him very busy these last few years, with no time to trek out into the desert on a whim.

While speaking of MacWhirr and his discovery, Mackenzie recalls a curious incident with an American, named Mr. Houston, who came to see him two or three years ago, also asking about Arthur’s photographs and notes. This Mr. Houston didn’t say how he had learned about the material but seemed to suggest he had been a friend of Arthur’s. After Mackenzie lent Mr. Houston some of Arthur’s materials, the fellow disappeared. Damned inconsiderate!

“If you aim to head out to the site to check things out, I can help with arrangements. Trucks, equipment and such. Would love it if you could take photos and gather some samples for me. Shouldn’t take more than four days or so to drive there.”



This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Fri 17 Jan 2020.

Art is very interested indeed. The chance to explore some old ruins sounds like a good change of pace to the troubles that have plagued the group as of late.
“Robert would you be able to procure a first aid kit to plus up my medical supplies?”

In reply to Art (msg # 6):

'No worries, mate!" exclaims MacKenzie. "What I suggest is that I telegram down to Cuncudgerie and have them prepare for the expedition there. Trucks, supplies and weapons. Six week's worth or so should do ya. You can get clothes at the outfitter down there as well. Any of you have experience with the outback?"

In reply to GM (msg # 7):

Dermot Murphy scowls, recalling the group’s premier misadventure in the Peruvian desert.

“I’m more a man of the open sea myself. My experience, however, seems to be expanding all the time. That seems a fair plan as far as I can tell. What might we need to know about the outback?”

"Well, the heat and the sun are the main concerns, of course", replies MacKenzie.

"You'd need a lot of water and extra salt daily to keep going under desert temperatures. Sunburn and sunstroke are the worst enemies. Sandstorms, blowouts and snakes of course. Hostile aboriginals. Oh, and spiders!"

He grins slightly as he ticks off the items on his fingers. "Perhaps I should arrange a guide as well? I know a fella down in Cuncudgerie. Professor Dodge. Good bloke."

In reply to GM (msg # 9):

”I don’t doubt we’ll be needin the guidance. When you say aborigines, how hostile are we talkin? We’re fairly capable, but do they warrant a man or two extra?”

After a moment’s pause, Dermot looks back to the man.
<DarkBlue> “A Mr. Hutson, did ye say?” <DarkBlue>
This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Sat 18 Jan 2020.

"Probably won't bother you lot if you don't bother them. You can even do some trade with them - they're keen on food and durry. Just don't let your guard down. Especially since you appear to be loaded". He grins.

"Oh aye, Huston. That was his name. Old fella, shock of white hair. Yank, like some your mates there. Said he was a friend of Arthur and wanted to borrow some of his charts and stuff. Never returned them, the bugger!"

In reply to GM (msg # 11):

"I had the opportunity to read a little on the local aboriginal populace, it should be interesting to see who accurate those text were."

Johan pauses looking toward the sky, "My friend Dermot...is likely quote correct,an extra man or 5 might be in order.....this...trip has had it's twists and turns..."

The narrow-gauge railway from Port Hedland to Cuncudgerie runs one freight train daily. MacKenzie has arranged that you can ride on the flat car (an open-air car, used mostly for luggage, situated near the engine). A few Aboriginals sit at the other end and stare curiously at you. The trip takes eight hours. The day is scorching; the land is dry, the watercourses empty. Low trees trace some of the ravines, but nothing like forests or even copses exist. There are no farms. During the journey nothing moves except three very large birds, winging lazily far in the distance…

Cuncudgerie lies south of Port Hedland; a mining town, it bustles even in the heat of the day. Besides the established mines and miners, the place caters to many prospectors, thousands of horses, camels, and mules, hundreds of trucks, and a few ladies of easy virtue, looking nowhere near as romantic as the storybooks claim.

A tall, middle-aged man is there to greet you as the train pulls into the station. He shakes your hands with a firm grip and lifts his hat for Rachel. “G’day and welcome to Cuncudgerie! I'm David. David Dodge,” he smiles. “Get a telegram from MacKenzie that you’re heading out east, looking for ruins. Sounds exciting! I’ve managed to lay my hands on two Daimler light trucks, and we should be well stocked on supplies for the morning. You can get rooms at the Cuncudgerie Grand, one of the local inns. Oh, and if you need clothes and equipment more suitable for the outback, there’s old Mortimer’s shop over there. Mad as a hatter, so he is, but his three daughters are beauties!’



This message was last edited by the player at 21:53, Mon 20 Jan 2020.

• Gold-bearing reefs (exposed lines of mineral deposits) occur eastward for hundreds, maybe thousands of miles. But the fellow declaring this is clearly trying to impress his newfound “friend.”

• Deadly snakes exist in the deep desert; be careful where you put your feet!

• There was a big mining disaster far to the east some years ago, but the company responsible paid off the politicians and the whole thing was hushed up. Some 25 men were killed, among them Derby Dave the Welshman, who did some work for Ol’ Mortimer, who now runs an outfitters in town

• Some drovers, who brought in cattle over the Canning Stock Route, swore that things the size of bears stole some of their stock. That was “about a year ago.” The attacks were alleged to have taken place somewhere east of the Percival Lakes.

• There’s been a ghost seen up north recently, near Dingo Falls. It could pass its hand straight through someone’s body—this particular tale is told by an old man named Mad Ginger Muldoon.

• Three huge birds were seen about two weeks ago. The teller swears they must have been 20 feet at the wing. He took several shots at them, trying to bag one, but they were well out of range

• There is an underground city somewhere in the desert. Ways exist in and out of it, but the sand shifts constantly, burying and exposing the entrances. Evil things live there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:26, Sun 26 Jan 2020.

Mar. 7, 1921—Jock Kuburaga says that abos are following us. Most unusual if true. Primitives have every reason to fear guns—and our bush ranger predilection for using them. In the past, I have always known them to head the other way as soon as they sight white men.

Mar. 21—We are about equally distant from Joanna Spring and Separation Well, east of an awful line of dry lakes. The heat is terrible. Our hopes are low—there is nothing here, certainly not quartz reels! L.’s notations are in systematic error. He is a complete drongo as a surveyor. Today we sighted several enormous birds flying lazily far above us. How did they get here, and where can they be going?

Mar. 22—At about noon today we found Jock, partly buried in a gully. His body was scoured and covered with hundreds of small punctures, as though somebody had sandblasted him, We buried him, of course. I shall miss his counsel, and he was an excellent hand with the camels.

Mar. 23—We have discovered what appears to be remnants of an ancient city, rising from the shifting sands! I believe I have secured several good photographs of this amazing find, though the heat has ruined all but six of my photographic plates. By the pitting of the stone, the blocks and pillars appear to be more than 10,000 years old! Incredible!

Mar. 24—Four camels killed in the attack last night. I saw at least two abos, and more must have been skulking out there. I’m sure I hit one. That ends this trip—we’ll have to head back to Cuncudgerie and report this incident. More than men were out there last night. I saw shapes much bigger than men during the attack. My evidence is the body of Old Sam the camel, punctured and scraped is the best way I can described the remains, just like poor Jock. Since the attack lasted only a couple of minutes, it’s hard for me to believe that anything human could have done so much damage so quickly. But then what was it?

May 15 – Have told Robert Mackenzie about the city. Together, we aim to return and undertake a full survey. When he saw the photographic plates, he was flabbergasted. Now as keen as mustard to work with me to realize the discovery.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Sun 26 Jan 2020.

The largest pub is called the Swagman’s Hat and it’s a noisy and rowdy place, full of boisterous miners and workers. The local Aboriginals sit in a separate section, and there are some mutterings and snickers from the other patrons as Johan sits down with them.

It’s difficult for him to break the ice but after a while, a few of them open up and start chatting with him. They relate several strange things that have happened in the area (see the post Cuncudgerie gossip for more).



Meanwhile, Dermot is busy asking around for more information about MacWhirr, Dodge and Huston. He learns that Professor Dodge is an associate professor of archaeology, just finishing his current term, and looking forward to some vacation time. He’s an impetuous and ambitious fellow, well-liked in the area.

Arthur MacWhirr was a local engineer and surveyor. Four or five years ago, he claimed that he found big squared-off blocks of ancient stone out in the desert, and he bought drinks for a whole pub and showed some photographs to prove he was telling the truth. He sadly died of influenza later that year, before he could return to the area.

Nobody has heard of anyone called Huston, but rumors say that some crazy American bloke took a crew of two dozen men into the bush, had them dig a shaft 10 meters deep, then told them to stop, gave them a big bonus, and sent every man jack to Darwin to collect his pay. This was a while ago. Another man tells of a Yank named Carver, who conducted surveys and exploratory diggings along the Canning Stock Route, which flanks the eastern side of the Great Sandy Desert.

Mortimer Wycroft’s Shop
Wycroft’s shop fills the lower story of a dilapidated building on the outskirts of Cuncudgerie. Two sheds sit on either side of the shop, probably containing mining equipment. A small petrol pump (Australians, like the English, call gasoline “petrol”) at the front of the building connects to a large buried tank of 600-gallon capacity.

The dingy shelves behind the shop’s U-shaped counter are stuffed with coveralls, cookware, boots, rope, chain, heavy rope, miners’ lamps and hats, clothes, arc lights, flashlights, batteries, truck parts, blocks and tackles, engines, engine parts, tinned food, picks, assay kits, and much more.

Three pretty young women lounge in chairs in the store as Dermot enters. All three are dressed as common laborers, in trousers and shirts. They are tanned and their hair is sun-bleached blond.

The youngest gets up and greets Dermot at the counter with a dazzling smile. “G’day, sir. How may I help you?”




This message was last edited by the GM at 16:51, Sun 26 Jan 2020.

Unless Dermot wishes to interact with the shopkeepers, we can go ahead and move you into the desert.

Reminder; You're in Northern Australia, chasing down a lead about a mysterious ancient lost city in the desert. One of the members of the Carlyle Expedition is rumored to be there; Dr. Robert Huston.

You are traveling in two trucks, one driven by your guide, Professor David Dodge.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:19, Fri 12 June 2020.

The trip to the coordinates in MacWhirr’s diary will take a minimum of four days. For hundreds of miles, the landscape slowly increases in desolation. The daily heat and dust are constant, but at night the temperature drops precipitously. In your none too thick bedrolls, you stare up at unfamiliar skies, dominated by a brilliant constellation, the Southern Cross. When the heat vanishes, the air is very clear, and the mornings and evenings are poignantly beautiful.

There is little to see but scrub, dust, and rock. A rise a few hundred feet high is tall enough to be noted on large-scale survey maps and, perhaps, even to be given a name. No running streams exist. Every few miles your group crosses mule or camel tracks, or the ruts of a car or truck. There is no telling when the tracks were made; the desert is so dry that tracks can stay visible for years, unless obliterated by a dust storm.

Surprisingly, smoke can be spied from distant fires, two or three times a day. Traditionally, Aboriginal Australians use fire to trap game as well as to cook, and smoke plumes can be navigation aids when traveling at distance across the flat, nearly featureless land.



Though plagued by flat tires, split radiator hoses, and other minor automotive problems, David Dodge leads your group expertly. Following Dodge’s directions along the stock route, the plan is to turn due north into the dunes to arrive at the position indicated by MacWhirr and Mackenzie’s coordinates.

Late on the third day, between Mallowa and Nibil Wells, everyone notices the tracks of many vehicles leading from the stock trail into the sandy hills to the north. This road, as good as one is likely to find in this part of Australia, apparently runs directly toward the location pinpointed by Arthur MacWhirr.

‘Well’, says David. ‘Looks like we’re heading this way.’  He turns the lead truck down the well-travelled dirt road.

After stopping to rest for the night, you continue the next day. After a few hours’ drive, you come across what looks like an abandoned mining camp. Huddled beside a 20-foot-high rocky outcrop are a dozen or more tent shells, their covers ragged and flapping in the breeze. Nearby are many head-high stacks of crates and various long tubes and bits. A tiny shack marked “Explosives,” as well as a small wooden building with mechanical gear secured on top of it, appear to be the only standing structures, although one tent does seem to be more or less whole. An old Ford truck rests at the end of the row of tents, squashed and broken, as though a giant had stepped on it.

There is still no sign of the strange curvilinear blocks seen in MacWhirr’s photos, nor any signs of life.

"Professor Dodge? Could we stop by that mining camp?" Rachel asked, eyeing the area as it came into view.


"That American man--the crazy one who paid a crew to dig then sent them away--do you know what happened to him, Professor Dodge?" Rachel asked, waiting for their vehicle to stop. As soon as they stop, she quickly opened the door, stepping out. The girls at Wycroft's shop had the right idea--wearing worker's clothing in this sort of place. Rachel pulled off her wide brimmmed hat, cautiously making her way into the abandoned camp, careful not to get too close to anything.

She looked around the place, trying to spot anything that could clue her in as to what could've happened in that place.

In reply to GM (msg # 17):

Dermot will shoot the breeze with these lovely young ladies, casually fishing for any information but mostly just enjoying the company. After turning his attention to the wares, he decides to pick up a miner's hat and lamp (assuming that's a lamp on a helmet) and a block and tackle before rejoining the group.

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 20):

Dermot spends a pleasant time in the shop, although he feels that the young girls are also trying to casually discover what his business is.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 19):

Dermot will follow a few paces behind Rachel, gun drawn. For the moment, he's mostly surveying the camp and surrounding landscape for danger.


This message was last edited by the player at 17:21, Mon 15 June 2020.

‘No idea, Ms. Katz. Sorry.’ says David as he climbs out of the driver’s seat.

Rachel and Dermot hop out of the truck and slowly wander around the camp. They see human bones amidst the sand and rubble. Several skeletons are more or less whole, but with broken bones.

Near the small wooden structure, Rachel uncovers a club, about 30 inches (76 cm) long, half-buried in the sand. Embedded in the striking end are many small, sharp, white teeth. *

‘Hey, look here! Fresh tracks’, says David, kneeling besides a strange set of tracks, which start and end abruptly, as though the maker had flown down, walked a while, then flown away. Each track seems to have six toes, but the tracks themselves are enormous, about 6 feet (1.8 m) long. **


* A successful Science (Biology or Zoology) or Hard Natural World roll will identify the teeth.

** A successful Cthulhu Mythos roll might give more information about the strange tracks.

Upon seeing the tracks on the sand, TJ quickly got scared. He looks around, checking if there are any tracks or traces of the creatures anywhere else.

"Folks, let's find shelter, unless we want to be devoured by Polyps," he exclaimed. However, he was shocked by this knowledge that he just uttered. *Was this also a gift from the Black Man?*, he thought.

But still, their safety, and lives overall, is the top priority. The mining camp seemed to be the safest place to be, but he must still be alert, since the Polyps might be hiding there as well.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

As we travelled towards Australia and as TJ read the book, he has heard the same deep voice that always haunts him. One night, while he was sleeping on the ferry towards Australia, the Black Man appeared once again in his dream.

"Dear child, you have faced too many dangers recently. Are you sure you don't want any more help from your friend? It will benefit you greatly," the Black Man offered.

"Help? Since when is being curse any help to me? You do realized that everyone of them is suspicious of me now because of my connection to you!" TJ angrily answered.

The Black Man flashed a grin. "There now, don't worry. When you wake up, you'll soon know more that you oughta. And besides that, don't be surprised of my 'special' gift to you," he answered and he went near TJ, touching his forehead. "Be careful of how you use this gift," he continued.

As he touch TJ's forehead, a burning sensation on that area woke him up. He screamed and jolted himself awake, and what he saw when he focused around the room surprised him. Good thing he has his own cabin, because all the furniture in his room has been thrown violently.

"What the hell?!" He exclaimed as he walked around, trying to grasp what happened. 'Was this the gift?' he thought. Muttering a series of no's while fixing everything up, he went towards the sink and wash his face.

To his surprise, there was a mark on his right temple, as if it was pierced by something sharp and it left a burning mark. Panicking, he went and grabbed a bandage and put it on the area.

Nobody should know this. If Nairobi put a target on his back, Australia might be his burial grounds.

In reply to TJ (msg # 24):

Dermot's face sours.

"You know what did this? Must be a fearsome creature."

He continues to shift his eyes around for danger or shelter, and prepares to follow TJ's advisement.

Art gets down from the truck and nervously looks at the tracks and at the mining camp. “so much for leaving the gore behind, seems we are much safer at the mining camp than out in the open. T.J forgive my ignorance but what are Polyps, and more importantly how does one kill them?”

In reply to Art (msg # 27):

TJ looked at him with a grim expression. "Sadly, sir, it seems that these creatures cannot be killed."

Art shakes his head and says “well I guess that narrows down the old fight or flight.”

In reply to TJ (msg # 24):

Mildly horrified, Rachel pulled out the club with teeth, holding it up for everyone to see. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, glancing around at the others as if to ask if anyone knew what it was. It seemed like a primitive but effective weapon-- that could leave a rather nasty mark on an unfortunate victim.

Upon hearing TJ's remarks, Rachel turned and eyed him suspiciously, taking a few steps towards him.

"Wait--what are polyps? You can't just throw around...names--and not tell us what they are." Rachel snapped, eyes narrowing as she grabbed TJ's arm. The man had exhibited weird and strange knowledge, and while Rachel was grateful for his help, she wasn't about to be caught unaware again.

"And how do you know about them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 30):

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are, ma'am. Trust me, I wish I don't know this things as much as I do right now," TJ says as he loosens Rachel's grasp. "But for now, these things might kill us. Let's beware of any whistling or piping sounds when we go down. That's a sign that they are nearby," he continued, still amazed yet horrified about his knowledge of the creatures.

In reply to Professor Dodge (msg # 23):

Waking from a slumber to find their trucks stopped at the old mining camp Johan awakens, "ahh
Guten Morgen, are we there...have we reached our destination?  Fatigue appears to have gotten the best of me."

Climbing down from the truck Johan (likely stepping on one of those bones and not noticing) joins his colleagues in surveying the area and missing the context of the conversation he walking in on, "Polyps are growths on the skin that most often look like small, flat bumps or tiny mushroom  stalks...I had a colleague so afflicted at university."

Finally noticing the club that Rachel is holding up, "My what do we have here...."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:35, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 32):

With a final glare, Rachel stepped away from TJ, turning to Johan and offering the club to him.

"I don't think that's what he meant..." Rachel muttered, letting her words trail off as she shook her head.

"Do you know what it is?" Rachel asked instead. "I mean it looks like a weapon-- but is it... some sort of ritual weapon?" She lowered her voice as she spoke the last words, glancing at Professor Dodge to ensure he was out of earshot.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 32):

TJ responds, "Polyps are these ancient creatures that lived here millions of years ago. It's hard to describe them, but from what I can remember, they are these worm-like things, 18 feet tall, scales and eyes covering the body along with a few fanged mouths. And they have these tentacles that has claws on the end, those that made the marks we found there."

He shuddered while describing them to the group.

In reply to TJ (msg # 34):

Johan had turned to Rachel to comment on her find, when TJ spoke up about the Polyps he turns. In a low and very serious tone for Johan, "how do you have this knowledge?" Appearing lost in thought.  "A long time ago, when I was a child...I had a fantasy of such creatures, dreams of them, of their civilization.  How could you know of this....?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 33):

Shaking off the conversation with TJ, and turning to Rachel once again. Shaken and speaking softly, "I know not what that item is but...perhaps ...for the moment you should conceal that item until we know the true measure of the others traveling with us."

You inspect the rest of the camp...

Explosives Shack
The lock on the door has been broken. Inside, it is bare except for two stout, empty wooden boxes. Their outsides detail the specifications of the powerful mining dynamite that once filled them; each box held 48 sticks. Inspection turns up several other empty dynamite boxes near the shack; weathered and half-filled with sand.

The Intact Tent
All the tents are torn savagely, but one has been carefully sewn back together again. Inside are bits of clothing, fresh matches, tinned food (and empty cans of the same), several lanterns, kerosene, and other household items. Of all those in the camp, this tent alone appears to be freshly lived-in.

Small Wooden Building
Inside is a deep shaft; the structure around the shaft acts to mount an engine and cable winch for a small, open elevator poised at the top of the shaft. The light from a flashlight or the sound from an object thrown down the shaft merely reveals that it is very deep.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 14:46, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 36):

Rachel gave Johan a wry smile when he suggested she conceal the large club, before traipsing off to look around more.

----------------

"It looks like someone's still living here," Rachel pointed out after they inspected the rest of the camp.

"There's still supplies that can be used. If not living here--at least whoever it was hasn't been gone for too long. Perhaps we can still track them?"

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 38):

Dermot squints and stares as TJ describes what he believes the attacking creatures to have been.

"Seems like they weren't here recently, if this standing tent is anything to go by. Still, we'd best keep our eyes peeled."

Stowing his handgun for the time being, Dermot turns to address the guide.

"We're gettin close, aren't we David? Did ye know of a mining expedition out this way? Though the more recent tent clearly came after whatever massacre occurred here. Could someone else be after MacWhirr's place? "

David scratches his head. “Lots of mining surveys and sites out here, not all of ‘em legal. Don’t right know about this one. Certainly looks like someone’s been squatting here. Must be close by – foolish to leave the area. Perhaps hiding somewhere.”

As David speaks, TJ can faintly hear animal yelps from the other side of the camp. He glances in that direction and spots a half-dozen dog-like shapes, who studies the group from the lip of a nearby dune.

As you discuss what to do, you all hear a whistle, and the animals retreat down the dune and out of sight.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Professor Dodge (msg # 40):

She hadn't heard the animal noises, but Rachel definitely heard the whistle. Brows knitting, she slowly made her way towards the other side of the dune to get a good look at who was coming.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Tue 16 June 2020.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 41):

Dermot draws his revolver for a second time.

"C'mon Dodge, let's not let the lady get too far away."


(looking at the boomerang)

"What's that, a weapon? Strange land we're in...."


Dermot steps warily after Rachel.

"It's called a boomerang, Mr. Murphy. You throw it at your target to stun or kill it. Some types can even return to your hand. Come on, let's check out those dingoes."

You walk over to the sandy hillock. There, you find dog prints. A short way down the other side, the dog prints join human shoe prints. The makers of so many tracks are not hard to follow.

In a few minutes, you come upon an astonishing sight; a pack of eight reddish-brown dogs, surrounding a man naked but for Oxford-style shoes. The man kneels within a 5 foot wide circle of stones gathered from the outcrop. One of the dogs is absolutely enormous and seems almost otherworldly.

“Get ye back, Satan’s spawn! Begone! Beware!” the man screams. “My friends shall rend ye!”

Sure enough, the dingoes spread out and begin to creep to either side of your group, looking like they are preparing to attack...




This message was last edited by the player at 18:26, Tue 16 June 2020.

Art hears the whistle and starts making his way over to it. At the sight of the naked man and the large beast he instinctively grabs his revolver and readies it. The dingoes begin to circle the group and Art aims for the biggest almost otherworldly one and shoots...

14:52, Today: Art rolled 72 using 1d100.  To shoot Firearm at big doge 50/25/10.

He misses. “Darn it, how in the bloody hell do I miss such a large beast!”

In reply to Art (msg # 44):

Aghast at the doctor's direct assault (and miss), Dermot hastens to defuse the situation.

"Only a warning shot! Is that you, Huston? Or MacWhirr? We mean ye no harm if you'll call of yer hounds!"

Thinking fast, and talking faster... Dermot looks over his own shoulder back over the dune and whistles loudly to an imaginary set of creatures implied to by lying in wait out of view.

"Your friends are nothing compared to mine! Rend me, will you? Stand down, friend, else your pets will learn the true meanin of the word rend!"


Well, we're in for it....

In reply to David Dodge (msg # 43):

The man looked like he had been raised by wolves--or dingoes in this case, and yet he thought they were Satan's spawn.

A blast came from behind her and Rachel jumped as Art tried to shoot the big dog. She was about to drop the club and reach for her own gun when she heard Dermot try to talk the man down. She glanced at the man to see if Dermot's words had any effect, while slowly backing away from the dogs.

"MacWhirr--Arthur MacWhirr? That you?" Rachel called out. "We're... not here to hurt you." At least not yet, Rachel thought.

"Call off the dogs, we just wanna talk."


This message was last edited by the player at 01:16, Wed 17 June 2020.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 46):

Gustav reaches and walks beside rachel only to see a giant canine in front of them, keeping his wits about him, he quickly lowered his pistol and tries to talk the man down as well, suplimenting what Dermot has been saying. all the while slowly positioning himself to pull rachel out of harms way if things get dicey

"We mean you no harm friend, to you or to your... little friends"

Gustav consciously lowers his weapon and with his right hand, extends it and opens it up, palm facing upwards, and slowly extending it to the nearest smaller canine closes to him. signaling his intention to be peaceful and open

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 45):

Gustav looks at his friend Dermot doing his best to de-escalate the situation as well, he tries to raise his eyebrow and gestures towards the naked man, in encouragement as if to say, 'try harder'

Gustav also speaks sternly at Art and speaks 'lower your weapons, this man clearly needs our help' but, he keeps his eyes wide open in the hopes that Art would catch on what he is trying to do.

Art lowers his weapon but does not put it away. He is overly concerned that these beast will tear them apart but also sees the wisdom in defusing the situation.

Startled by the loud bang from Art’s revolver, half the dingoes whimper and retreat. The rest advance on you, their sharp teeth glinting.

You yell at the man, trying to persuade him to call off his dogs, and Rachel’s words seem to catch his attention. He whistles, and the dingoes sit down on their haunches, still growling at you. None of them accept Gustav's friendly beckoning.

“Arthur?” says the man. “I’m not Arthur. Don’t think so anyway…. “. He stands up, and David quickly removes his hat and tosses it to the man.

“Strewth! Cover yourself, ya drongo! There’s a lady present!”  The man grabs the hat and hastily conceals his privates.

He's a gaunt, sun-weathered individual, with straggly, matted hair. His eyes are wild, and his limbs twitchy.


This message was last edited by the GM at 16:03, Wed 17 June 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

"Alright then, why don't you start with telling us who you are?" Rachel asked, dropping the club she had been carrying on the floor next to Gustav. She glanced at him as if to say I got this, before taking a step towards the man they were speaking. He seemed to have at least noticed his state--perhaps it was a sign he wasn't completely mad.

"Can I approach?" Rachel asked, hands still raised. "What are you doing out there--do you need any help?"

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

Still frightened by the dingoes that surrounded them a few moments earlier, TJ decided to just hide behind Dermot, visibly cowering. He can feel that Dermot was annoyed and also sizing him down because of his cowardice, but he doesn't mind. Being behind here is better...and safer.

However, he put a hand onto his neck, clutching his bladed necklace and cast a spell if ever somethinf bad happens.

But that man...he just call him "Satan's spawn"...whatever that means. He felt disheartened about that. It wasn't his fault the encounter with the Black Man in Salem happened and he got cursed by it.

What he can do right now is to just be prepared to protect everyone.

At the sight of the club falling to the sandy ground, the remaining dingoes growl loudly. The large dingo snaps its teeth hungrily at Rachel but the man calls them back with a sharp command.

"Easy, friends", he tells them. "This Sheila doesn't look like the bad men. But she is a Yank though. And the rest are...... strange as well. Look at that one!" He points to Johan. "Had a rider on him, fair dinkum!"

He giggles to himself, seemingly greatly amused at the thought. "Aye, we can have a natter. I'm..... Grogan? I think so anyway..... or Power Boy? Not quite sure. You looking for Carver?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 23:10, Wed 17 June 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 53):

Grogan seemed easier to take more seriously than 'Power Boy'. "Grogan it is then." Rachel said as she glanced at the others.

"Sure, we're looking for Carver, and several other people. Do you know where they are?" Rachel  asked, glancing at the dogs nervously, deciding that this was as close as she wanted to be.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

Grogan, have you eaten anything lately?

Gustav attempts to break the tension by searching is bag for anything edible.

Grogan hesitantly accepts Gustav’s offer of food and wolfs it down. The large dingo sits a bit away but watches you all carefully. Grogan talks in bursts, separated by seconds or minutes of silence.

"I don't know how long it's been. Years, I think. I was down on my luck in Cuncudgerie when I met a Yank who claimed he had a map to a wonderful gold strike a long way east. Well, he seemed a shifty sort, like all bosses, but he was willing to pay a sign-up bonus on the spot, so I took the work, mining work it was.

"He hired a lot of men, twenty and more, and all of us agreed that the fellow was daft, and that we'd work until the bugger’s cash ran out, and then come back to town. That's what a workin' man does, you see - one job, and then another.

"The bloke's name was John Carver. Old fella, with white hair. He led us out here where it's impossible for gold to be, leastwise gold-bearing quartz, and set us a-digging at an exact spot. 'My researches are infallible,' he said again and again, and Lord how we used to laugh about that! We made sure we got paid right to the day, because this fellow was going to take a tumble. So, we worked through the sand, and then sediments, and then rock. And then the man's money ran out. No work, no pay, we agreed, and like we promised sat down to wait for the supply trucks from Cuncudgerie the following week. They would take us back.

"Meanwhile the Yank began to act strange. walking into the desert, pretending to talk with invisible beings, making gestures, and the like. Then he disappeared for an entire day and part of another, and when he came back, his eyes were wild and evil-like. 'There is a way,' he said, 'there is another way, and God has shown it. Leave if you wish; you are of no use to me now.'

One of the men said something about wanting wages for the days spent waiting for the trucks, and several more used very rude language to the Yank's face, for this camp wasn't exactly no rest home. Carver jumped a foot at this, and he swore foully at us. He got a most cruel look on his face. 'If that is how you feel,' he said, 'then I shall endeavor to speed you on your way - all of you.' Well, that didn't sound too good, but what could he do with one of him and two dozen of us?’

"He walked away, into the desert. That night, a couple of the fellows caught me cheatin' at cards, and they run me way into the bush before I lost them. When I was sneakin' back to camp I saw Carver appear at the wall of rock, gesticulate, and point, and then a great winged thing with talons like ropes descended from the sky. There was a crackling sound in the air, like a voice.”

“The men fell to their knees. One or two tried to run off, but the thing just grabbed ‘em and ripped ‘em apart! I buried my face in the sand and covered my ears. When I looked up, the men were bowing to Carver, and he was leading ‘em away.”

"Goin' into the desert seemed a better way to die, so I wandered off. Anything would be better than meeting such a devil-man or his demon. I found some shade the next day and lay down to die. For some reason that made my mind easy and clear. I slept for days and dreamed of cool water and peace. When I woke, I found a spring of pure water, just like in my dream. So, I stayed here and dreamed some more. Since then, I’ve befriended these dingoes. They are my friends, but they are not real. They are magic, I think, because they stay slippery in my mind, and I forget which is which, and because they never eat.”
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 14:27, Thu 18 June 2020.

Art puts his weapon away. “My apologies sir. We have also seen our share of mind bending horrors and as such I have become to hasty in my reactions. I am a Doctor of medicine, Please, allow me to check on your health and provide any medical aid you may need”

(If he allows me I will perform a first aid check on him and provide him that aid, 09:34, Today: Art rolled 57 using 1d100.  Perform first aid on Grogan to check on his health. 100/50/20.)

In reply to GM (msg # 56):

Dermot listens attentively, doing his best to ignore the pathetic figure of TJ cowering behind him. He puts away his revolver and steps a bit closer.

"You're welcome to come with us, though I'm afraid we're going a bit farther into the desert before we go out again. I've just one question. We found a tent at the old campsite... that's not yours, I take it?"

What if this Carver is still hanging around? Dermot wonders in his mind.

(failed Mythos check lol)

"You can check me out, doc, but there’s nothing wrong with ol’ Grogan here” he says to Art. “I have my water to drink, and my tins in my tent. And if I get too hungry, I travel to Dylath-Leen for a slap-up meal. Ever been to the Wayfarer’s Inn? Amazing food!“

Grogan lapses into a long and detailed description of the food in that strange place, while Art checks him out. For a man living alone in the desert, he seems remarkably healthy, apart from his mental state.

Grogan starts to panic as Dermot suggests he comes with them. “No no no! I’m not leaving here! This is my home!” He scurries back into the ring of stones, ranting and raving, and it takes a while to calm him down.

“That’s my tent, aye,” he replies later. “I keep my stuff there. I think that Carver took the men, the rest of the trucks, the dynamite, and other supplies, but I don’t exactly know where they went. East of here anyways. My dingoes have several times protected me from a band of men trying to murder me! Those bastards carry big spiky clubs. But my friends ate two of ‘em. Hah! Haven’t been back since.”

He grabs Dermot by the collar. “Listen! You gotta stop Carver and his men. He’s a plague on this land. Please!”

The man was in a pitiful state. Rachel bit her lip, glancing at the rest.

"For God's sake, we can't leave him here..." She muttered, trailing off as she saw how Grogan reacted when Dermot suggested he tag along with them. She eyed the dingoes with him warily. It was absurd, but it did look like the dogs looked after the man.

"Your dingoes won't have to protect you if  the bad men don't know where you are." Rachel reasoned softly, gesturing at the dogs. "They might get hurt trying to keep you safe."

Even as she spoke, the man seemed already preoccupied with Dermot. Shaking her head, Rachel turned to the rest.

"You heard the completely reasonable chap-- we've got to stop Carver and his men. Wait--- Grogan, do you know where they are?"

In reply to GM (msg # 59):

"Got it. That we will, boyo. That we will."

Dermot slowly and gently extricates himself from the man's grip, brushes down his clothing, and prepares to head on. He looks at Rachel and shrugs as if to say that crazy is as crazy does.

In reply to GM (msg # 59):

TJ looked at the man with worry. He seems to be having some sort of paranoia. Was it  because of what occured here? Or did something else happened to him? Regardless, he pitied the man.

And that thing about the flying thing with talons. That doesn't sound to be the Flying Polyps. However, it made him more scared of the wilderness here. If the Polyps were terrifying already, what more are these other creatures that may appear out of nowhere here.

Even though he might get attacked by his dogs, he still asked Grogan, "Excuse me sir, but what there anyhing unusual that Carver did before things went downhill?"

In reply to GM (msg # 59):

Johan relaxes the grip on his walking stick and takes a seat in the dirt addressing Grogan, "My freund, we have traveled around the world and seen horrors unspeakable...now we are here and we very much want to have a word with Mr. Carver and his friends.  So if you could point us in the right direction, we would be happy to leave you in peace."

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 63):

Suddenly, TJ thought of something crazy...

"Wait, what if Carver and Huston is he same person?" he said in a quiet voice.

He looked and asked Grogan, "Could you describe how Carver looks like? Please sir!"

Listening to Grogan talking about Carver, some of you come to a realization about his identity, but it is TJ who voices his concern; what if Carver and Huston is the same person?

He turns to Grogan and asks "Could you describe how Carver looks like? Please sir!"

Nodding nervously, Grogan describes Carver as an American man in his fifties, medium height, with white hair, white bushy eyebrows and watery blue eyes. He always tried to stay away from the sun and was neatly dressed in khaki bush gear.

“Most of the time, he sounded like a fancy gentleman, using big swanky words, but when he got angry, he swore worse than a frog in a sock!”

Grogan falters, looking exhausted from all the talking. “I need to rest and dream now. Carver took the men that-away.”  He points to the northeast.

“Oh, one more thing. The numbers 4-8-6-3-9 somehow seem important”.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:01, Sat 20 June 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 65):

Dermot quietly repeats the string of numbers back to himself, counting each number on one of his five fingers. 4-8-6-3-9, 4-8-6-3-9, 4-8-6-3-9....

After a while, you bid goodbye to Grogan and head back to the trucks. Following his directions, the two trucks leave the camp site and head further northwest into the desert.

David drives the lead truck, and Gustav is in the driver’s seat of the next truck, with Rachel beside him. You are driving through a ravine when a bullet suddenly clips Rachel’s shoulder!

'Hey, did we blow a tire?" says David and slows down the lead truck. Dermot sees a glint of metal at the top of the right ravine.

[OOC; Rachel loses 3 HP]

Truck 1 has David, Art, Dermot, TJ
Truck 2 has Gustav, Rachel, Johan

The people in truck one would need to roll Spot Hidden or Listen to even notice the shot hitting the second truck
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Sat 20 June 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 67):

Rachel blinked disoriented by oriented by the gunshot. She shook her head, then felt pain spread from her shoulder. She glanced at it and saw blood seeping through her white shirt.

"I'm... I'm shot." Rachel mutters, stunned as she touches her shoulder. "Fuck."

Up ahead, she could see the lead truck slow down.

"Wait, why are we slowing down, we'd be sitting d--"

Johan was quicker than she when it came to the explanation. "Gustav, drive!!! Rachel’s been shot. Drive!!"

As Gustav slammed his foot down on the pedal, Rachel pulled out a kerchief, pressing it down on the wound hard. As soon as they stopped, Gustav was telling Johan to keep pressure on her wound.

"Oh for god's sake." Rachel muttered, rolling her eyes. She unlatched her side of the door and slipped out, digging out her own revolver and leaning back up against the truck. Grabbing the truck's side mirror, she moved it around until she could find any clue to where the shooter was.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Sun 21 June 2020.

As the lead truck starts to slows down, a shot hits the right rear tire of the second truck. The vehicle starts to swerve, but Gustav brings it back under control and manages to stop.

Dermot aims a few shots towards the gleam of light he saw earlier. Both trucks are now stopped, about 20 yards from each other. Gustav, Rachel, and Johan leap out of the truck and take cover behind it. Gustav crawls under the truck and curses the fact that their rifles are packed away on the truck bed somewhere.

The top of the ravine, where the shots came from is about 50 meters away on the right, but in order to get there, you'd need to run along the ravine wall until you find a place to run up. The ravine walls seem very unsteady and dangerous.

In the lead truck, David is scanning the ravine for the ambushers, while Art runs back towards Rachel in order to help her. Another bullet slams into the lead truck and the fuel tank explodes! The vehicle flips and burns.


OOC; Dermot and TJ; please roll Luck. Success; 1D6 damage. Failure 3D6 damage. David loses 4 HP.



This message was last edited by the GM at 20:01, Sun 21 June 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 69):

Seeing the explosion from the first truck, Gustav realizes the danger and shouts "Rachel! Johan! ravine! now!"

Gustav also jumps towards the ravine and will quickly make his way towards the first car, to see if Dermot, Art, TJ and David are all right.

Gustav will make his way into the ravine and murmured to himself "Scheiße! back in the trenches" remembering the infantry waves he had to endure in Château-Thierry and Belleau Wood.

The memories comes flooding right back in as the hun's sturmtruppen plague thier lines with flamethrowers and his unit being burned right in thier foxholes. Gustav then involuntarily touched his left shoulderblade and the scar that he earned that day to be in this place now.

He stops, the ringing of gunfire and the explosions are silent for a bit, as Gustav struggles to take control of himself. He's now seeing his burnt unit beside him, pleading for thier mothers, others holding on to thier now opened guts and trying to put them all back in. Gustav's vision is now blurred and the ringing just wont stop.

As suddenly as it appears, the vision stops and Gustav begins to focus, he now raises his firearm and shoots in the general direction of the gunfire. And now makes his way hastily to his friends.

In reply to GM (msg # 69):

Dermot's thrown off his feet by the explosion. He manages to come up into a roll and avoid most of the flying shrapnel, but he's got some burns and scrapes that will need later tending.

"Gustav! We're sitting ducks down here! Cover me, I'll look for a way out or up!"

Dermot reloads his revolver before making a break for the canyon wall to search for any means of (a) escape or (b) ascending to the top of the canyon without a full-on climb.

You take cover against the sniper(s). Art rushes to Rachel’s side and quickly applies first aid. Another shot rings out and nearly hits Dermot as he runs towards the ravine wall.

Link to a larger map of the area; https://i.ibb.co/7t5Yzd9/ambush-2.jpg.  You think the shots are coming from the red X.

Current HP
Art; 26
Dermot; 21/26
Gustav: 31
Johan: 22
Rachel: 29/30
TJ; 17/22

https://i.ibb.co/7jQXPxT/ambush-2-small.jpg" data-lightbox="images-msg-72">https://i.ibb.co/7jQXPxT/ambush-2-small.jpg" alt=''>

In reply to GM (msg # 72):

Gustav aim his pistol at the general direction of the shooter, and three shots in succession rang from the ravine, when He sees Dermot trying to climb up the rocks, Gustav follow suit and immediately dive for cover in the nearest rock. Trying to see if the sniper is where he thinks it is.

but alas, the heat of the australian desert and the intensity of the battle must have been playing in Gustav's eyes and he cant seem to see where exactly the shots are coming from



09:36, Today: Gustav Schmidt rolled 8 using 3d10, unique dice with rolls of 2,1,5.  climb 24.

09:38, Today: Gustav Schmidt rolled 81 using 1d100.  spot hidden 69.

Johan is sweating profusely, shaking slightly against the truck he’s using as cover...remembering the war... He shakes off what he can and peeks around the truck to get a sense of his colleagues. Knowing that his trusty walking stick would be of little use, he remembers back to the war.. and starts belting out with everything he has.....

    If the sergeant drinks your rum, never mind
    And your face may lose its smile, never mind
    He's entitled to a tot but not the bleeding lot
    If the sergeant drinks your rum, never mind

    When old Jerry shells your trench, never mind
    And your face may lose its smile, never mind
    Though the sandbags bust and fly you have only once to die,
    If old Jerry shells the trench, never mind

    If you get stuck on the wire, never mind
    And your face may lose its smile, never mind
    Though you're stuck there all the day, they count you dead and stop your pay
    If you get stuck on the wire, never mind

    If the sergeant says you're mad, never mind
    P'raps you are a little bit, never mind
    Just be calm don't answer back, cause the sergeant stands no slack
    So if he says you're mad, well - you are.

Johan's powerful voice is amplified by the narrow ravine walls, covering and distracting from Dermot and Gustav as they climb the ravine.

At the end of the song, there is suddenly a deafening silence, and then laughter and sing-song shouts from the cliffs above. Five aboriginal warriors appear from between the rocks they were hiding behind. Their bodies are painted and they wield spears and boomerangs. Each has a spiked club as well.

The warriors hurl spears and boomerangs towards the people taking cover behind the vehicles. Fortunately, the distance and cover makes it difficult to hit, but one war boomerang zooms unerringly towards Art*


*Art, please roll Dodge to avoid losing 7 HP.

Art begins to tense up, the shots, blood and war songs transporting him back to the frontlines. The despair and hopelessness of war and the futility of man versus insurmountable odds places Art in a state of hyper-alertaness. He begins to breath heavily, sweat of the coldest variety beads in droplets of nervous anxiety on his forehead.
“Guard the truck and pull a 360 degree security across our perimeter”
Art yells repeating the mantra he’d heard countless times while mud seeped more and more into his last pair of dry socks while in the trenches. The movement of a fast flying object catches his eye, he instantly dives to the ground and yells
“INCOMING!!!”
While clenching his fist rage begins to build inside Art as he comes to the same realization many a men come to in the face of staggering odds, ‘If it must end here may it end on my terms’.

OOC (Fail  Dodge roll 35/17/7. 21:17, Today: Art rolled 55 using 1d100. I use 20 luck points to make the dodge.)

In reply to GM (msg # 74):

Seeing that there is a nearby boomerang, TJ focused on it to make it come near him, testing his newfound powers if it will work. And to his shock, it worked!

He grabbed the boomerang in his hand and shouted, "Back! Get back! I know how to use this!" pointing at the boomerang while intimidating the aborigines.

He won't result to magic for the meantime. Scaring these men will do for now to keep them safe.

Seeing the boomerang suddenly float from the ground to TJ’s hand seems to have quite the impact on the ambushers. Two of them scream in terror and start running away, while one throws himself off the cliff face, laughing manically as he falls. He hits the ground with a thud, still laughing and twitching before mercifully becoming quiet.

Only two attackers now remain visible above. None of them have any modern long-range weapons.

Gustav and Dermot have almost reached the ridge level of the ambushers. Dermot from the north side and Gustav from the south. The aboriginals spot them and hurl weapons at them.

OOC; Gustav and Dermot – please both roll Dodge or lose 1D10+2 HP, then you can attack at close range. Also roll Luck both of you.

OOC2; Those below can shoot at the ambushers, but the range is about 40 meters.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:59, Sat 04 July 2020.

Dermot dodges and fills his target full of lead, and he drops like a sack of spuds from the auld sod.

Gustav also ducks and his pistol barks, taking down his assailant.

As the shots echo through the ravine, there is one final shot! A bullet whizzes past Gustav’s ear, aimed from behind a large boulder.

OOC; Dermot is relatively close to the sniper and can tackle him with a Brawl roll if he wishes.

In reply to GM (msg # 78):

Dermot quickly scrambles toward the aboriginal sniper and empties the other three chambers. Two bullets slam into the man's body and end his life, the third pinging off of the boulder he was hiding behind. Seeing no other immediate threats, Dermot cautiously reloads. Then he walks to the edge of the canyon. He yells down:

"All clear up here! I think we sent 'em packin'!"

David pokes his head out from behind the truck. 'Strewth!' he exclaims at the sight of all the dead bodies. 'I feel like I'm in the wars'.

Hearing Gustav inquire about a hospital for Rachel, he shrugs his shoulders. 'About 5-6 days drive away, mate. Think she’ll be fine. Tough Sheila, that one.’

You inspect the burned-out truck, take whatever provisions and equipment you can salvage from it, cram into the remaining truck, and then drive on.

It’s another couple of driving over horrible terrain, but then David checks his compass and map and stops the truck. “Well, we’re here now.”

You’re in the middle of an ocean of sand, but some of you imagine that you can hear the ‘PUT!-put!-PUT!-put!’ of heavy machinery from behind a small dune up ahead.

In reply to David Dodge (msg # 80):

Dermot will dismount and creep up to the sand dune, looking around for any more enemies before peeking his nose over the top of the sand dune in question. He’s making an effort to be unseen and unheard by anyone on the other side.

The scene before Dermot resembles MacWhirr’s photographs, with strange rock pillars and blocks rising out of the timeless sands. The key difference to the scenes in the photographs is that the sand here has been packed down by foot and tire, and that a good deal of early 20th century garbage has been strewn about.

In the center of the “camp” are several light trucks, parked and mostly emptied. Some goods have been put under a tarpaulin beside a small shed. You can hear the sound of a generator from the shed.

Two white men sit and chat around a table near the shed. A parasol shields them from the burning sun. Both have rifles within reach.

Enough stone blocks stick out of the sand to provide excellent concealment for anyone creeping up towards the entrance, but the last 50 yards or so are across bare sand.

TJ crawls up to Dermot and sees what he sees. David is also climbing up and seems very impressed as he spots the ancient stones.

He whistles softly. 'Look at those beauties! 10.000 years old or more if you ask me. We should go have a closer look. But I'm not liking the look of those fellas. You said they are... cultists?"

It occurs to Art that there may be more than one entrance to this 'buried city'.

Dermot works his way around for another angle, while TJ considers throwing something. It takes a while, but Dermot moves to a point north of the parked trucks.

TJ motions at the guards, and a water jug smacks into the back of the head of the closest guard. At the same time, Dermot jumps out of hiding and shouts at the guards to stay where they are.

“And don’t even think about touching those rifles!” he adds with a menacing glare.

The two guards stare in shock at Dermot and nervously raise their hands as the rest of the group approaches. The guards look like typical Australian miners, but with strange black smudges on their faces and bodies, almost like tattoos.

As you decide what to do with the guards, and Professor Dodge is excitedly examining the ancient stones, Johan walks over to the shed. He exits again after a few moments and calls you all over.

Stepping inside, you see that the shed covers a low wall of sandbags, which surround an electrical generator and a set of wooden stairs within, descending into the silent earth. The generator runs constantly, the source of the noise that brought you here.

Electric lights hung sparsely but regularly, illuminate the steps after the first 50 feet (15 m) or so.

In reply to GM (msg # 86):

Johan shows the stairs and generator to his colleagues, " Well my friends, this will not be our first staircase down into the unknown...hopefully it will not be our last..."

Johan pauses for a moment, "This place...there is a familiarity to it that I can't shake. "

Dermot attempts to talk to the two guards. They seem insane, rolling their eyes and gibbering strange incantations, but he manages to learn a few facts.

Down the stairs is a great cave, which goes on for who knows how far. There are great treasures down there, but great dangers also. There are many more men in the cave. Whistling demons haunt the darkness.

Huston is a great man, a visionary, directed by God. The guards attempt to convince Dermot of this fact.

Huston has made holy idols down there and, when the time is right, he’ll reach out to God, who will help him to open the Gates of Heaven!
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:20, Mon 20 July 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 88):

Dermot assures them that we’re all interested in helping Huston open the gates of heaven.

"Here we thought ye were doing some illegal mining or trophy poaching-- can you imagine! ha ha!"

He turns his back for a moment to look at the group and make a “they’re crazy” gesture.

"Best be gettin on then. Huston won't wait forever!"

You spend some time grabbing whatever equipment and weapons you can find. The captured guards seem strangely calm and even smirk to each other occasionally. Professor Dodge is sketching the layout of the pillars and taking rubbings of some of the strange symbols on them. ‘This is going to make us famous, so it is!’ he exclaims excitedly.

Finally, you are ready to begin your descent. The sun is almost touching the horizon as you carefully walk down the stairs. You can feel the temperature fall, and for some reason you believe you can small cooked food from below.

The stairs go down, deeper and deeper. You must be at least 60 meters below the surface now. Electric lights, hung sparsely but regularly, illuminate the rickety wooden steps.

Suddenly, a dark shape speeds past you, heading up. Then another! And another! The air fills with the shrieking of thousands and thousands of bats, the noise of their flapping wings nearly deafening you!

The stream of bats is endless, the sheer volume of them pressing you against the stone wall and making conversation impossible. You almost lose track of time as what feels like millions of bats assault your senses.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:57, Tue 21 July 2020.

Art hugs the wall as the bats fly across his face and body “Good god what a bloody mess will this never end”

In reply to GM (msg # 90):

After the swarm of bats, TJ managed to find the two guards. He thinks that they may be fanatics, or maybe brainwashed by Huston.

"So, why do you two admire Huston so much? Do you worship him as a god?" he asked the guards.

In reply to GM (msg # 90):

Gustav after the encounter with the bats, grabs his pistol and a flashlight pointing to the direction of the bats.

well, if we were trying to be quiet about it... *winks at his companions*

hurry and lets find a safe place to hide in a bit

After the swarm of bats, TJ manages to find the two guards. He thinks that they may be fanatics, or maybe brainwashed by Huston. "So, why do you two admire Huston so much? Do you worship him as a god?" he asked the guards.

“He’s not a god, but as a High Priest to God”, replies one of them. “If you do not honour him, you are beaten, bound to the Stone, and given to the Sand Bat. He has found miracle machines and ancient books. He truly is powerful!”

You continue the descent, with the two guards tied up between you. You estimate that you are at least 100 meters below the surface above. At the bottom of the stairs is a backup electrical generator matching the one at the top of the stairs. Several 50-gallon petrol drums stand nearby. The lower stairs drip with guano (bat excrement); the stench of ammonia is nauseating and overpowering.

The first impression down here is one of coolness. The earth at this depth maintains a constant temperature of 57°F (14°C). There is a silence and a stillness beyond life and death. No tomb has ever existed for so long as these passages have, nor had such treasures in it. Beyond are great halls and thick dust, and the gleam of increasingly tiny light bulbs leading off into unfathomable eternal darkness.

It is possible to go in any direction, but the lights seem like irresistible beacons. Everyone notices that a trail has been pounded through the thick dust along the line of electric lights, and that elsewhere the dust is undisturbed. In the darkness, you see almost nothing of the extent of this place.


https://i.ibb.co/cQzR1NP/city.jpg" data-lightbox="images-msg-94">https://i.ibb.co/cQzR1NP/city.jpg" alt=''>

In reply to GM (msg # 94):

As the bats clear and Johan gets a good look at the room he falls to his knees quietly exclaiming, "Mein Gott...Mein Gott...I've been here...before.  When I was a child I had...such vivid dreams of such a place, this place....  How can this be?"

Shaking off the stunning knowledge that his dreams have been made real, suddenly great fear grips Johan as he turns to his comrade.  "We must travel here with great care there are creatures here that man has not seen before, we are in great danger.  Carefully where step...silence is needed."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:34, Tue 28 July 2020.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 95):

Carefully indeed, thinks Dermot as he shakes guano from his boot.

Things have gotten out of hand. Who are all these people, really, who came together to avenge our friend and continue his legacy? What horrors will we continue to unearth? These psychic abilities and revelations... after all, they may be our only help against what timeless monstrosities we face. Though after what we've seen, is there really any hope?

He shudders as he steps quickly and quietly along the dimly lit passage, musing but alert.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 95):

Johan trying to explain a little more, trying to remember the dreams ...now real events from his youth,

"This place is a vast library...a city, if we can find one of the plaza's I can probably provide some direction.  When I was here, I was not..mich...me.  I was once of them, tentacled creature.  It's difficult to explain  I need to find what I wrote...to prove that I was here before.  I wrote down details of my life..."

You are on a level floor strewn with fallen blocks, shapeless fragments of stone, and sand and detritus of every kind. On either side—perhaps thirty feet apart—rises massive walls culminating in huge vaulted doors. That they were carved you can just discern, but the nature of the carvings is beyond your perception. What strikes you the most is the vaulting overhead. The beam from your torches can not reach the roof, but the lower parts of the monstrous arches stand out distinctly.

Great ramps inlaid with octagonal stones connect the buildings and structures of the alien city. These ramps are very wide. Bordering them, walls and fallen earth create corridors where there were none before. Distances and sizes are more gigantic than anything you have yet seen, except perhaps for the pyramid in Egypt. Curvilinear symbols are carved into most of the structures. At certain points rubble blocks the way.

In this pervasive alien darkness, the silence has no end. Who knows what once happened here? Who knows what might still be lurking in the depths?

You push on ahead, following the string of lights. Professor Dodge is looking around with wide-eyed amazement, occasionally stopping to jot down notes. Up ahead there seems to be a huge vaulted doorway, with more lights inside. A smell of cooked meat and tobacco slowly wafts your way, reminding you that it has been hours since you ate.

The wet, musky, and ammonia smell of the guano fills every smell receptor in Art’s nose. He begins to gag and fight back the impulse to vomit. ‘Feces... germs, infection, desease, ...and death always.’ Art thinks to himself. His phobia of germs and unclean conditions begins to get the better of him, however he manages to ground himself with the knowledge that he has a fully stocked medical kit.

As you hesitate and discuss what to do, one of the captured guards suddenly screams at the top of his lungs;

"MATES! HELP US! INTRUDERS!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:11, Fri 31 July 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 98):

Dermot breaks out in a cold sweat as he has a flash of intuition about this place. The lore of the Pnakotic Manuscripts and other sources floods before his eyes. Tales of a gargantuan underground city build by an ancient race from outer space. Triangular, conical things, with all the googly appendages. He recalls that they kept a massive library, that this was perhaps a major function of the city. That these creatures of Yith were bent on preserving their race from an apocalypse thousands of years coming by projecting their consciousnesses into another alien race which would survive it. He's not sure if they're hostile by nature, but the sheer vastness of all this universal conflict is enough to make his head spin, as if the megalithic structures themselves weren't aggravating his existing phobia, brought on by an earlier mind-shattering adventure with this party. Shaking, Dermot turns to begin an attempt to communicate this information when he's cut off by the cry of one of their seemingly amicable prisoners.

The alarm is raised! Get ahold of yerself, Dermot auld boyo!

He takes a deep breath to steady himself as he reaches for his Webley and looks around for a convenient hiding place. He'll take on whatever comes from the safety of the shadows. Tactics and subtlety, that's right....

In reply to GM (msg # 100):

Out of panic and fear, TJ recklessly do a karate chop on one of the guards they are with. Luckily, it knocked him cold to the ground. Sensing the other one about to do the same, he used his mind to push him towards the wall, the impact also knocking him as well.

"Oh wow, I can't believe that worked," TJ whispered to himself. He looked towards the group and asked, "Mind helping me set this folks aside? Better if they do not get discovered for now..."

A minute or two after the guard shouting, a couple of figures appear in the doorway up ahead. They are both shining torch-lights around and walk slowly towards you. If you remain near the string of lights on the path, they will surely spot you soon.

You slip into the darkness to the side of the illuminated trail. As you watch, the two figures slowly approach, and you can see more details. Both look like typical Australian miners, bedraggled and thin.

One is holding a hunting rifle, but curiously the other is holding what looks like a camera in front of him. They come closer, nervously shining their torches into the darkness and stop a few meters in front of where your hiding.

“Wadaya think made that noise? A line-walker?” says the one with the rifle.

“No ideah. Maybe the bloody polyps got him. I'm not headin' into the bloody dahrk ta find out!”

The man with the rifle shines his torch right in David's face. "Professor Dodge? What are you doing here?"



This message was last edited by the GM at 18:33, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

"Martins, old cobber, is that you? Funny seeing ya out in the bush, huh? Didn't know you were working with these fellas, good on ya." Dodge moved forward a bit as if he was supposed to be here, talking with great mirth as though the man had a great effect on him when they worked together.

Martins nods and smiles like the whole situation is quite normal.

"Yeah, I wawrk heah, Professor. Was it one of yah mates that shouted eahrlier? This place can be a bit scahry. I suppose ya'ah all heah ta see Lord Huston?"

His companion with the camera is shining his torch in your faces with a puzzled frown.

"You know this bloke?"' he asks Martins. "They're fair dinkum?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:06, Tue 04 Aug 2020.

"Absolutely fair dinkum, mate. Hey, what's with you, always with the hard yakka, huh? And yeah, it was us, mate." Darcy moved around to position himself so that the others could move up behind these two. "Hey, what's this?" He gestured at the camera.

"That's a lightnin' gun", replies Martins. "Lord Huston showed us how ta use them. Crazy stuff. If we see a Polyp, this'll drive it away. And these ahah yah friends? Didn't know we weah expectin' visitawrs."

His friend is watching David with narrowed eyes, clearly not totally convinced.

In reply to GM (msg # 108):

From the shadows, Dermot nods subtly in response to Johan’s almost comical signaling. It seems this camera must be important.
At the mention of a “lightning gun” he raises a quizzical eyebrow. He glances over to catch the eyes of Gustav and TJ, then watches as Johan leans heavily over his cane and approaches the two Australian workmen.

(Dermot isn’t a brawler, but he’ll be waiting to snatch the lightning gun, or to attempt a melee attack if things get desperate.)


This message was last edited by the player at 14:53, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

From the shadows, Dermot nods subtly in response to Johan’s almost comical signaling. It seems this camera must be important.

Johan moves out of the darkness, using his cane a bit more than he actually would, to draw the eye of the two men.  He gets as close as he can, playing up his age and imaginary walking difficulties.

At the mention of a “lightning gun” Dermot raises a quizzical eyebrow. He glances over to catch the eyes of Gustav and TJ, then watches as Johan leans heavily over his cane and approaches the two Australian workmen.

Moving swiftly up behind the man with the camera, Dermot grabs him by the neck and pulls him down. It’s like the man is swallowed by darkness.

Martins doesn't even notice, he's still talking to David and nodding to Johan.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:39, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

David sees Dermot creep up behind the man with the camera and take him down. He launches himself at Martins, throwing him to the ground and trying to keep him quiet.

Johan moves to assist but instead thwacks David hard in the face with his walking stick. Art joins the fray and soon the two men are subdued.

“Anywhere semi-fatal to dump them?” wonders Dermot. He tosses the ‘Lightning gun’ to Johan. "Cover me, y'auld geezer. Anything inhuman flits about, ye know what to do".

Johan although clearly not himself in these caverns, breaks a slight smile when receiving the lightning gun from Dermot. "Danke, mein Freund"

Johan and Dermot move further into the darkness, looking for a place to dispose the unconscious guards. Johan fails to spot anything, but he manages to slip on a pile of guano (losing 3 HP in the process). Dermot, however, sees something further along…

It’s a deep shaft about 15 feet (4 m) square, which completely blocks the dark path Dermot is exploring. Lights show no apparent bottom to the chasm. There is no way around it, although broken ramps and collapsed corridors once offered many alternate paths. The shaft is square and regular along its sides, plainly created for some kind of purpose.

On Dermot’s side of the chasm is a great, shallow box, approximately the size of the shaft’s mouth. A few minutes of inspection of the massive hinges along the shaft’s side and the elaborate alien latches along its far side make it plain that the thick box is actually a lockable lid to be swung over the chasm and latched, sealing the shaft and making a bridge.

Professor Dodge notices that Martins has a crumpled piece of paper in the front of his shirt pocket. He reaches down to pluck it out.

The typed and mimeographed note reads:

TO: Acolytes of the Great Sand Bat
RE: Our Recent Hunt

We still have not found our last two-legged deer. There is utterly no excuse for not being able to find an unarmed human who has neither food nor water, and who possesses none of our arcane, God-given powers. Remind the line walkers to be alert.

R.H.

Johan whispers... “That hatch should not be open...”

TJ adds "Guys, a little help?:" He's still covered by the two guys he knocked out.

One of the top-side guards wakes up as you're about to dump him in. He starts screaming! Dermot gives him a right hook to the face. The man falls down the shaft with no further noise.

“Don’t be dramatic, ye ponce.” Dermot spits into the pit after him. “Now then! Find somethin, professor?”

Lowering and locking the heavy lid will take some time,  for the alien latches are heavy, bulky, and conceived for other than human hands and minds.

As you struggle with the ponderous lid, you can hear faintly a whistling sound coming from the shaft…

"Yeah, mate. Look at this. Two-legged deer." Professor Dodge passed over the note in disgust, hardly registering Johan's comment.

"Ready on that lightning gun, Braun. I can hear a whistlin'...."

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 114):

Johan grips the "lightning gun" scanning the darkness, his fears very present in this place...a reminder of the war, the anticipation of the coming conflict.  Dreams of the past made real... Nods to Dermot, "I will be ready my friend..." Those looking would see him slip his hand down to his pocket where his flask is kept, the one that saved his life all those years ago.

"Gott, beschütze meine Freunde und mich, wenn wir in die Dunkelheit gehen" whispers Johan focusing on the coming sound...

As you struggle with the ponderous lid, you can hear faintly a whistling sound coming from the shaft… A Polyp is coming!

TJ starts chanting but quickly realizes that he won’t be able to finish in time. The rest of you strain and push to close the hatch but something is jamming it. From where he stands, Johan spots something on the side of the hatch – a blinking light, indicating a low capacitor.

Desperately, he aims the lightning gun at the hatch and fires! A great crackling noise emanates from the gun and a blinding bolt of lightning arcs into the capacitor. The metal lid swings down with a now smooth motion, and seconds later you hear hideous bashes and sucking noises emanating from under the scant few inches of metal.

The noises from below continue for a good while. Something heavy slamming itself against the hatch. But there must be powerful magic or technology in the device, and it doesn’t budge. Eventually the noise dies down.


What would have happened if the hatch had not been closed;

This message was last edited by the GM at 23:52, Sat 15 Aug 2020.

Johan motions to the group, “This way...I think, yes this way”. He moves forward, watching his step...and the walls. Dermot falls in beside Johan, his conventional earthly weapon in hand.

You all hurry away from the horrible noises emanating from beneath the hatch and continue on the path. Once you’re safely away, you pause. Professor Dodge drops back on his haunches for a few moments.

TJ asks "Guys, does anyone have a bandage there?" and shows everyone his bleeding thumb. Art quickly attends to the injury and TJ thanks him (TJ regains 1 HP, leaving him with 18).

The well-traveled path ahead is marked in the thick dust that covers every surface, and you sense the promise of untold mysteries hidden in the dark, cyclopean ruins that surrounds you.

After another hour or so of walking, you arrive at a large mound of rubble caused by a collapse of the ceiling. It blocks your way as far as your torches can shine, but there is a sort of crude rope stair leading up to the top.

You carefully climb down the other side of the mound of rubble and continue on, following the string of lights.

After some time, you enter a large open area, which you can sense rather than see. The string of lights leads into this area and encircles a huge dark pit, before leading on out of the chamber in two different directions.

There is no railing at the edge of the pit, but from the hole comes nauseating and mind-numbing smells and terrible moans, cries, and growls. One cry sounds just like that of a human baby.

Without using additional light, though, nothing but ripples and vague movements can be seen at the bottom of the hole.

Johan whispers, continuing to watch the walls, "My friends, I feel...that moving forward is the right way. It's almost a calling.....but I'm not sure which route to go down. Either could be correct or ruin..."

He looks towards the pit. “This pit...i remember it, it was a well.....”

Dermot suggests that none of you gaze deeply into the pit.

TJ, upon hearing those things, feels goosebumps up his body. After what Dermot suggests, he slowly backs away, though tempted to peek out of curiosity.

Dermot shuffles around to the left and shines his torch down the passageway, doing his best to ignore the pit. He thinks he sees a bobbing light further down the pathway to the left, like a flashlight or torch.

“We may have company that way,” he whispers.

Dermot sees nothing down the other passageway, just the string of lights.

“In here boyos! Step to it, and keep yer peepers away from that pit.” Dermot ducks down that second NE passageway.

You follow Dermot into the shadows of the passageway and wait. After a while, you see two men entering the circular room. The first is a small aboriginal man with a ‘camera’ slung over his shoulder, and the second is a huge Caucasian man, wearing a large backpack. He has a blank stare and moves slowly and hesitantly.

They both stay well away from the pit and the aboriginal casts fearful glances towards it. They stop near a light-bulb that has been burned out, and the big man easily reaches up to replace it with a new bulb from his backpack. He clumsily drops the old bulb and immediately there is a horrible screeching and chittering from the pit.

The small man swears and drags the big man away, back towards the passageway you came from originally.

“I'm wondering if it would be advisable to try and get those two, since they have a "lightning gun?" says David.

Johan nods, “if we encounter what was under that hatch...more of these lightning gun cameras couldn’t hurt.”

You discuss this for a while but then decide against it.

TJ tells the group, "Oh, those were the polyps folks."

Dermot deadpans. “Ye don’t say.”

"Well, I don't know how to describe them verbally," replies TJ. "At least we have an idea how they look like."

“Unfortunately, it’s not the worst thing I’ve seen with you lot,” says Dermot. “But it is nice to know what we’re up against for once!”

TJ looks towards Dermot with a grim expression, and said, "I don't think that they're what we're really up against..."

Dermot takes this in silence as he turns away with a grimace and begins to trudge forward.

He whistles a few notes, then stops himself.

"Do you think it's wise to whistle a tune? We might miss the polyps that will get us if ever," TJ warns Dermot.

You head down the right passageway. After walking for nearly a mile, you come to another mound of rubble, this one larger than the rest. There is another rope stairway leading up to the top, so you begin to climb.

As you are helping each other over the unsteady top of the mound, Gustav loses his footing and kicks over a pile of rubble. It cascades down the side with a loud clatter. There is a distant shriek from the ceiling above you and three dark winged shapes descend on you!

They are black in color, half-toad, half-bat, and equipped with loose, curiously rumpled wings and apparently eyeless, mouthless heads. Each are larger than a tall man.

Dermot lets out a classic horror movie scream, falls on his butt, turns and scrambles back down the mound like a jackrabbit on a hot summer day. And he doesn’t stop running til he gets halfway back down the tunnel. Rachel takes one look at the bat horrors and runs after Dermot.

TJ shouts "Dermot, wait..." and tries to pull him by the collar using his telekinetic powers, but he, for some odd reason, is unable to.


Can I get a SAN roll for everyone, please? Lose 1 for success, 1D6 for failure.
Those still sane have one round to react before they reach you.

Your SAN in descending order; Gustav 81. Dermot 62. Art 61 (he loses 1). TJ 58. David 55. Rachel 41. Johan 31.




This message was last edited by the GM at 22:26, Fri 28 Aug 2020.

Professor Dodge, seeing the things, first trembled, shook slightly. A moment later, he was irrationally calm. Acting as if nothing was the matter at all, as if this was only a minor inconvenience, he walked to the back of their group, removed a cigarette and a lighter and, hands still shaking a bit, started trying to light the cigarette in his mouth.

Gustav aims at the dark shapes and fires three times. One bullet strikes the lead Guardian and tears off a large chunk of wing. The awful thing screeches and seems to hesitate for a moment, but then continues towards you, along with the two other Guardians.

Gripping the lightning gun and sweating profusely, Johan lets loose with a blast from the lightning gun, as he retreats backward with his colleagues. The bolt of crackling energy arcs towards the monsters but fails to hit them as they quickly descend on you...

“Is this the end?” TJ thought as he saw gigantic bats flying towards them, the arrival of these monstrosities signals their demise. Not a good way to die, he thinks, underground devoured by a swarm of bats...

Wait, was he the one who said that? Or was it the Black Man again?

He heard that voice, sarcastic yet deep, unmistakably that of The Black Man. “Wield the powers. At least you and your companion will survive. What’s the value of mortality without a little risk?” The Black Man taunted him.

He refused, yet he involuntarily raised his hand, as if on command. He uttered deep, unfamiliar words that seemed naturally spoken to him.  And with that, TJ has summoned a red sigil in the air, a few yards behind the creatures. He felt his eyes bleeding, his health diminishing a bit, yet he continued to stay put.

“Fucking save us, Black Man! I have no choice but to trust you!” he thinks loudly, directly towards the Black Man, if ever he was listening. Just then, a wave of horror burst in the air, and TJ felt it, weakening him further.

The blaze of red light explodes among the bat monsters, killing one instantly and driving the other two away with shrieks of pain.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:35, Mon 07 Sept 2020.

You regroup, and after a long rest continue over the rubble mound and further along the lighted path.

After an indeterminable time, you pass through an enormous octagonal hall, with featureless walls and ceilings, but with a floor that radiates a soft, glowing red light. The space is approximately half a mile across.

You continue on. It is as though you are wandering through a terrible dream, with no end in sight. The eventual sound of another diesel generator at least gives some relief from the never-ending silence and dust of your path.

You finally reach the noisy generator. The line of bulbs continues, but a side corridor leads off to the left. It is also lit.

Johan breathes steadier and stands a little straighter during the walk though this larger area. The walls no longer closing in. Noticing the side path, "My friends, I have a good feeling about this path...could be my memories of this place".

Through the hallway, the straggling string of electric lights beckons into a gray stone-lined room which is thoroughly lit. It is about 20 feet (6 m) square and decorated with a few indecipherable alien symbols.

Inside, you find a jumble of crates and parts. Much of the gear is either of very advanced earthly manufacture or of alien design and construction. Much is of no known commercial design and bears no manufacturer’s stamp. Some of the gear seems to have been scrounged from the buried city, while some parts were made in Germany or Britain. Here and there, parts can be recognized as transformers and power supplies, junctions and fuse boxes, and unorthodox vacuum tubes, but much more is inexplicable. The logic of the constructs would take weeks to work out.

The first room opens upon a second area 40 feet (12 m) across. Within stands an enormous and fashionably black control board covered with knobs, dials, handles, displays, and impressive sets of relays and junctions, flanked by a few monitor lights and gauges.

One portion of the control board is open: conduits and connections simply dangle from the open panel. Plainly, a portion of the device is not in place. At one point, the long control panel is interrupted by a comfortable leather daybed built into it (the sort of couch associated with Freudian analysts).

An elaborate chromium headset and a series of hand-held controls connected to the control board and resting on the couch suggest that the couch’s purpose is central to the device.

Nearby is an operating table equipped with hand, foot, and body restraints. A version of the same chromium headset rests there, and cables lead into the control board at a point close to that of the first headset.

An archway opens into a third room.

As soon as the group entered the room, TJ sat down on the floor, kind of panting, and sweating as though he ran a mile. He is also experiencing a bit of headache.

He looked around the room, and he thought that this place looks a bit like what radio stations have. Buttons, switches, and knobs - all advanced stuff he is not familiar with.

The Black Man spoke suddenly, his voice now clearer than before. “You might want to push some of them. Who knows, it might bring something fun?” he urged TJ.

“Should I? It might bring us trouble if I do anything,” TJ says. However, he still stood up, somewhat involuntarily, his hand now raising and about to press the nearest button in the control panel next to him.

With nobody to stop him, TJ presses a button. A light on the control board panel blinks five times and then stops. He presses a few more random buttons and moves some levers.

The chromium headset resting on the couch gives a soft click.

Dermot notices TJ pressing buttons. “Watch what yer handlin' there, boyo, we have no idea what all this could be.” Dermot glances around the room nervously, still shaken from his recent madness.

"My friend, are you...familiar with these devices?" asks Johan.

TJ, still pressing and clicking at the panel, looks at Johan and replies “No.”

Johan moves over to TJ and places a hand on his shoulder, “Mein Freund....I think you should stop touching this. I’ve got a bad feeling about touching these devices. Why don’t we keep moving forward?” Johan shakes his head, “Do you hear that ...?”

TJ stops, and obeys Johan. “Well, what do you think of this place? You think this is some sort of communication hub?” He points to the light that blinked. “It must be sending some sort of message or signal.”  He also apologizes for his action. He does seem quite dazed after pressing the buttons.

Art has been slowly approaching the archway to the next room during all the button-pressing. He calls softly to you all; ‘You should see this. Most extraordinary.’

Across the doorway to the next room is a shimmering electrical field. There is a metal box to the right of the doorway, with a keypad. In the shadows, just to the left of the doorway beyond the electric field rests a dark, motionless shape.

Suddenly you feel a presence in your minds. A voice speaks to you without the need to broadcast sound through the air. The voice speaks in English, except to Johan, who hears a German voice. It has a strange, alien quality to it and a sense of extreme age.

"FREE ME!"

"FREE ME. I CAN HELP YOU".

"REMOVE THE FIELD OF FORCE".
This message was last updated by the player at 18:28, Sat 19 Sept 2020.

"Help us do what, Mr. alien? I’m pretty sure we hardly know our own goals," says Dermot to the huge dark shadow in the next room.

"Help you close the Gate that will allow the Old Ones to reach this planet!" comes the reply in your heads.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:30, Sun 20 Sept 2020.

Professor Dodge, having just finished his fourth cigarette in a row, stared dumbfounded at the shape. He was pretty sure that was speaking to him in his head, anyways, but it didn't make a lot of sense to him at the moment.

He thought something like, Well mate, how do I turn off the...field of force?

"You must enter a five digit sequence on the keypad. Is 'keypad' a word in your language yet? This century is so confusing. I do not yet know the sequence so you should find it. Take care that you do not enter it incorrectly. Let the large bald male enter it. He looks sturdy."

There is a series of weird clicks coming from the shape. Looking at the outline of it, you estimate that the speaker is at least 10 feet tall. You imagine you can see tentacles and a cone-shaped body.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Sun 20 Sept 2020.

In reply to Kakakatak (msg # 129):

Johan looks suddenly stunned...."Kakakatak...Wie kann es sein? ...You were there before. When I was a child.  No one believed me..."

Turning to the team, "Please mein friends we must help him.  There are things I must know about the time I was here...when they took me. "

TJ approaches the touchpad and enters the numbers that Grogan told you earlier in the desert. There is a soft click and the force-field disappears.

“Gratitude, young human,” says the voice in your heads. “Please enter my current domicile. Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”

You cautiously enter the last room; it is dimly lit, circular, and about 50 feet (15 m) across. It is mostly empty. A long, high bench holds many alien artifacts and instruments.

In the middle of the room you see a being resembling a large cone, with a muscular foot for locomotion and four extensible arms or tentacles projecting from the apex. Two of these arms ends in claws or pincers, the third terminates in four clustered trumpet-like organs, and the fourth is topped with a spherical yellow ‘head’ with three dark eyes, four stalked flower-like hearing organs on top, and a number of green tentacles dangling beneath. The being clacks its claws together rapidly as it sees you.

[Everyone please roll SAN; lose 1 if you make it. 1D6 if you fail]

“I am Kakakatak. I am of the Great Race of Yith. I was pulled forwards in time by the human Huston and imprisoned here, so that he might learn my secrets. Little does he know I have been reading his mind as easily as a book. Aid me in returning to my time, and I will assist you!”




[Size comparison between Kakakatak and a normal human]


This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Tue 22 Sept 2020.

Dodge, still not quite capable of comprehending whatever really was happening here, at first merely took up another cigarette, another match. He lit the cigarette, took a few puffs.

"Didn't teach us Yithians at Uni, mate. Guess the anthros have some catching up to do." He looked up into the massive, horrific eyes of the creature, dumbly stretching a hand out to shake one of his tentacles--or claws, or whatever else he might shake.

The bizarre creature leans down and seems to stare deep into Dodge’s soul, before briefly touching the professor’s hand with a scaly claw.

“I am aware of this custom of yours. But you should cease the inhalation of smoke. It has been proven to be quite risky for the human body.”

Kakakatak grabs a few unidentified objects from the room and slowly and ponderously glides into the adjacent room with the couch and control console.

“This is where Huston has been experimenting for various purposes, including learning more about my race, contacting the god Nyarlathotep, and foretelling the future. He has also been… what is that word..? brain-rinsing? Reprogramming some of his followers to blindly follow orders. Very foolish.”

The Yithian turns to face you and waves one claw at Johan. “I see you have a Model B, young Johan. Ausgezeichnet! We will need more of those. Now, I will need to access a certain library to obtain specific books so that I may return home. Once I have those, I will answer any questions you may have. Shall we proceed?”

Gustav and Rachel both lose 6 SAN but can be considered to have failed their INT roll, so they are shaken but not really understanding what is happening.


This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:39, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Dermot lets a violent cold chill spasm through his body before suppressing it. He rubs the bridge of his nose and then rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, each exercise working progressively to clear his body of its supreme tension. When the K man falls silent, he reflects on the situation.

“That’s mankind, I suppose. Always trying to harness other creatures and forces of nature and bend them to their whims. Boyo’s just taken it a step further, right? Why should alien forces of the universe be anything but tools for advancement? What a moron! The dumb ponce has got the brains of a sack of potatoes, and a face to match!” (Sighing) “Well then, Ka...ka...ka...tak? If ye’re willing to help us stop this madness and keep our skins intact, why shouldn’t we help ye out! Let’s set the universe right then!”

The universe, after all, is where Dermot keeps his boat and his Harley....

Johan keeps an eye on the stunned Rachel and addresses Kakakatak. “Suppose we believe you, what is this book you are referring to and where might we possibly get it? And is there a better way to communicate with you? I don’t fancy going in the middle of nowhere again when that task is complete.”

The Yithian waves one clawed appendage in a circular motion. “This mind-link should suffice for communication, I’m sure. Your race will have more efficient devices, but not for some time yet. Now, the book I require is in a library at 93457.48. It contains guidelines for adjusting certain alignments. I believe that particular library also holds the memory record of young Johan here.”

Kakakatak glides slowly across the laboratory floor, leaving a trail of slimy mucus behind her. “Unfortunately, Huston has his headquarters along that route, so we will need to kill him and his soldiers. Should not be too difficult for you. After all, you have made it here alive.”

Kakakatak leads you back towards the last diesel generator. But instead of following one of the strings of light bulbs, she leads you into the darkness, up several ramps, and inside one of the huge alien buildings.

Kakakatak presses several spots on one of the rune-inscribed walls and a hidden compartment slides open. She reaches her clawed appendages inside and withdraws three ‘lightning guns’, passing two along to you, and slinging the other across her conical frame. "We will need these to fight the living winds".

Dr. Dodge, feeling quite like some hero from the pulps, but also like some fool from Brisbane, reached down to pick up a lightning gun. He felt quite ridiculous, having just nearly had a nervous breakdown, and now arming himself with some science fiction weapon.

But, he supposed, there was nothing to do but go through with things now. "Living winds?"

'Living winds, yes. They first colonized your Earth about six hundred million years ago, predating the arrival of our race. They built vast cities of basalt, their defining architectural features being tall windowless pillars or towers. They were an aggressive and predatory species, and when we transferred our minds to the indigenous organisms that would harbor us for aeons to come, we came into conflict with the polyps. We prevailed at first due to our superior technology, forcing the polyps back to the subterranean catacombs that lay beneath their cities and sealing off the tunnels with reinforced trap-doors. But now they are starting to wake up again…”

At the mention of ‘living winds’, Johan feels a shiver down his spine. Something in the phrase terrifies him. He remembers visions of a huge trapdoor bound by heavy metal seals, and something fighting to escape, something that filled all of Kakakatak's race with utter dread, that they feared above everything else.

Kakakatak explains that the search for the library might take several days, as you will have to navigate around collapsed buildings and mounds of rubble once you are past Huston’s camp. The Yithian leads you back to the intersection and gestures with one claw down the pathway to the south.

“You will find Huston and his men at their camp that way. Deal with them one way or another. I need to stay here and make preparations.”

You set off once again, following the line of light bulbs through the oppressive darkness. After several hours walking, you begin to doubt what you have seen. You have not slept for what seemed like days, you are hungry, thirsty, and on the edge of madness. Surely the strange alien being had been nothing more than a hallucination brought on by your plight. Johan is the only one who knows that you have encountered is truly real, a thing from across the eons.

As you walk along, you experience a sense of unease, accompanied by a foul stench. As you cautiously continue, you can see a huge stone ring atop a gigantic organism, impressing the center of it into a very slight dome. The rest of the creature’s body must be under the city — it is impossible to tell its vast extent. Only the top of the creature’s hideous head is exposed, with throbbing veins and flaccid swellings. The creature is inert. You cannot dislodge it, nor does it react to you. Even a lightning gun would most likely have no effect.

Your walk comes to an end when you see a large, newly constructed, wood-frame building ahead, next to an intersection of several strings of light bulbs. It is three floors high, and all three floors are lit from inside. A ramp of metal bars runs up one side of the building, affording entrance to each of the floors.

You can see people moving about inside the ground floor building but from distance it’s hard to tell how many.