Since it's the first port of call, Irina will try to benefit from the research Jack did on Florida. 'Wet season' implies all kinds of waterproof clothing and some good boots. She'll try particularly to find something on Seminole writing, or possibly the address of someone in Florida who can understand it.

The area to cover is daunting but I see that most recent disappearance and the glyphs are not far from the supposed 'Lost/Ghost City', so that's presumably our starting point?





It's pretty bad here, but cases seem to be falling now, and the vaccination programme is going well. I have hopes that 2021 will at least end up better than 2020.
Thanks for the recap on the Antarctic mission.
Stay safe, everyone.

Richard

The Lost City of Florida pt 2

The Research Results are in:

Located 8 miles south of Alligator Alley, the abandoned Seminole village covers about three acres.  Talofa Luse is the Seminole or Muskogean name of the village, or at least what it's called now - "Moon Town"- the original name, and why it was abandoned hundreds of years ago, are not known.
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There is one notable mention of the place in the journal of a Confederate Sergeant, Robert Murphy, who had quartered there during the War Between the States.
The entries of interest are from 1864, 3 August and end on 16 August.   The journal was mailed to Anne Murphy, the wife of Robert Murphy in 1872, and was in generally poor condition - waterstained and tattered.  It was mostly illegible due to damage.

3 August.  Came to Moon camp very sore.  Rain all night, flooded, in a quandry what to do. Stross much distressed at word of enemy lines redrawn at home.  No word from the Brigade.  No one sleeps.  It is never safe.
[two pages illegible and torn]
7 August  Skirmishing with Indians, Burke is miserable cut from battle, we are all disgusted with this fix.  Staid on post through night, lost Staunton to the swamp.  Never saw him start from camp.  No sleep.

8 August.  Burke layd to rest, rained hard.  Weighted him down with stones from the wall.  Snake bit McQuaid and he is fevered.  Horses are sickend by the bad grass.  Curst by the Devil on all sides.  We are much distressed.

12 August.  Two horses snakebit.  My new mare gone already.  Message from Brigade to stand ready to jine the Cavalry.  Indians chantin.  [illegible passage]  No sleep.  Rain hot as the Devil.
[at least one page torn, another half-torn and illegible]
16 August.  It comes in the night.  [illegible passage ]The chantin.  We are all dead men.  Anne, my puddin, I may never see you agin.

There are no records of any of the soldiers mentioned in the journal rejoining the cavalry brigade; the camp was presumably abandoned.
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The Seminole Indians are at home on the waterways of the swamp, building shacks up on stilts as needed and using canoes to travel.  They have had to learn this because the United States has waged three wars against them, nearly extinguishing the Seminoles; some were captured and transplanted to Oklahoma, but a few hundred managed to evade capture and hid in the Everglades.  There is a notable similarity between Mayan glyphs and Seminole glyphs, and mention of a House of Warriors, where songs were chanted in an unknown tongue.  It is also mentioned that the Seminole may have come to Florida from across the sea, possibly the Gulf of Mexico.  The glyphs of the Seminole feature eyes, often multitudes on one form, circular mazelike patterns and bold stick figures where glyphs do not serve.  The Seminole are also said to be mound builders, where the mounds might have been burial sites that have been plundered.  It could not be said that the Seminole Indians are happy with the United States, nor its agents, given the history.
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As near as can be determined by Trevor, the glyphs found near the latest 'disappearance' might mean, "the Dark Water Prayer" or "the Night Water Place", or something like that.
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 Irina makes certain that there are waterproof clothing and boots, and looks up a  Dr. W. Stanley Hanson, Jr, who founded the Seminole Indian Association in Fort Myers in 1913.  He is a friend and doctor to the Seminoles living on the Big Cypress Reservation where the Everglades meet the Big Cypress Swamp - an excellent resource for the Agents to contact.    The Wet Season in Florida means it will rain, every day.  Possibly all day and night.  The Seminole have a word for what you get after you've waded through a lot of water and there's a lot more water to go through - Ocalee, which means 'still water'.
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With whatever preparations deemed necessary the Agents board the large truck and bicker over the driving shifts, the travel food, and the mission on the road to Florida.  It will take three days, given the roads, to reach the Big Cypress Reservation and hopefully more information from Dr. Hanson.
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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, upon arrival in Florida, or if your PC has opted to stay in DC.  Hope you are all well and coping.
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In reply to The GM (msg # 3):

Snakes. Irina hadn't thought about snakes - the only dangerous species found in European Russia is the adder, and they were hardly ever seen in St Petersburg. She'll make sure to stock up on antidotes and antivenom.

Is Dr Hanson connected to whoever employs the game wardens? If not, then she'd also like to check in with whichever organisation does (Department of Agriculture?), since they asked for her by name - presumably thanks to some connection with John Stuart.

See if we can get some idea where the men might have been going, and of course news of any other strange occurrences in the vicinity.

And yes, ask Dr Hanson if he's heard of a God of Dark Water or the like, and what he knows of Moon Town.

Do we have to get about by boat?

Jack will call ahead to Dr Hanson, explaining that they are federal agents coming to investigate the missing men in the swamp. He will take pains to explain that they do not wish to disturb the Seminole people, and that any diplomatic or translation help the doctor could provide would be most appreciated.
Besides the rainwear and snake remedies that Irina mentioned, he will be sure to pack plenty of ammunition for his .45 and 12 gauge (including any special ammo Fritz can supply), as well as a pair of flare guns and a dozen flares, a silvered dagger, a dozen sticks of dynamite with 20 feet of all-weather fuse, and his research notes on the local geography, natives, folklore, etc.

Post 3: The Lost City of Florida pt 3.
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 It is not currently illegal to hunt alligators.   To this end Fritz has packed a spear gun, an elephant gun, and ammunition that Bitsie Black had performed some kind of blessing spell on; the bullet casings were an iridescent green and the lead oxidized to dark grey.  In addition to snakes (the eastern diamondback rattlesnake, the timber rattlesnake, the dusky pygmy rattlesnake, the coral snake, the cottonmouth, and the copperhead, and the eastern diamondback rattlesnake has the most lethal bite), there are crocodiles, alligators, panthers, and spiders, the brown recluse, the Southern black widow, and even sharks, the bull shark being known for going from salt to fresh water.   Spider almost feels at home with all the deadly wildlife.  Contacting the boss of the wardens prior to arrival gets them the office of Harold Ramsdell, who seems surprised and gratified that there is a government agency taking an interest.  "I can't get anyone to go into the Glades now, and that's where we need to be," Ramsdell said on the telephone. "I had a call today to look for a missing fisherman and no one to send, nor a boat to send them in." It did look that boats would be involved, and he didn't seem to know about Dr. Hanson.  The missing wardens are Harry Gleeson, Martin Scobey and Johnny Dumas, according to Harold Ramsdell, supervisor of the commission's game wardens.  Harry Gleeson's Bowie knife was found by the "Dark Water God" glyphs, the man was never without it, including sleeping with it under his pillow.  The disappearances are all fairly recent; Dumas was last seen 12 February, Scobey was heard on a radio on 31 March, and Gleeson's knife was found 13 May.  All three were working for the Florida Game and Freshwater Fish Commission as game wardens, responsible for patrolling the Everglades at the times of their disappearances. Mostly, this is related to hunting for bootleggers.

Supervisor Harold Ramsdell has his office in Tallahassee.  He can provide more information on the missing wardens as well.  Johnny Dumas was a Creole, 42 years old and a family man, noted for being very good with boats, though there were suspicions of bootlegging raised more than once.   He and his boat have not been found.   Martin Scobey was 50 years old, an expert hunter and fisherman, and had last reported that he was in pursuit of another boat.  He and his boat were never found.  Harry Gleeson, 31,was a known brawler and troublemaker, but also an experienced fisherman who had recently taken fifteen gators in one day; his Bowie knife was top-quality, one of a kind, and found damaged near the glyphs - and there were bloodstains.  He has two more wardens in the area, Robert Dooley and Faro Wheeler.  Dooley is two weeks to retirement and will NOT leave the office, and Wheeler has broken his leg falling out of his mistress' second floor bedroom window.  Ramsdell has a map with the location and reads off the exact latitude and longitude of the site where the knife and glyphs were found.  He seems content to let the agents take all the risks.   He does mention to Irina that he was told to ask the BPRD for help by John Stuart, a classmate from University.
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Jack telephoned Dr. Hanson, leaving a message for him with his son, and received a call back requesting to reverse the charges.  Hanson seems a very likeable man, and his interest in the local tribe is genuine.  "You know, the government is trying to drain the swamp, and they're building like mad around here in South Florida," he said. "We're seeing a whole environment changing over months.  I don't know much about legends and suchlike, I'm usually too busy checking tonsils and stitching up wounds, but I do know who to ask. You'll need a guide who really knows the Everglades."  He knows Harold Ramsdell by name, but not really much more than that.  "Most of the Seminole have a few choice words to say about the game wardens," he told Jack with a chuckle.  He gives Jack directions to his house and promises to bring the agents to the Seminole reservation. He hasn't been to Moon Town, and was warned to steer clear of it, as there were several aggressive crocodiles in the area, so fishing was too dangerous.
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It takes a few days of rough travel but the agents arrive in Florida easily enough, heading down South to the infamous Alligator Alley.   "There's my new shoes," Thorne said, pointing to a huge beast rippling along on the water.  They trundle onwards to the Hanson residence, finding the Doctor just arriving too, pulling up to a ramshackle dock with a flat boat, about 10 o'clock in the morning.   Clouds are rolling in and it looks like rain. The Doctor's son, a youngster of 12, moors the boat and helps his father offload a string of bass and some tackle.  The house is built up on stilts, though the ground is currently dry.  "You must be the agents," Doctor Hanson greeted them.  "This is Stan Junior, I'm Stan Hanson Senior.  Come in and have some fresh orange juice."  The son was dispatched to clean fish while the Doctor served up the orange juice and some biscuits.   "We can head out to the reservation when you like," he said. "I can fit three people in my boat.   We might be able to borrow my neighbour's boat, he can fit five.  Can any of you pilot a boat ?"
"Yes," said Thorne.
"It's the easiest way to reach the reservation, from here.  There are some back roads but they tend to flood out and we're going to get rain again." the Doctor said.  "It would be good if you kept in mind the horrific treatment the Seminole have endured over the last hundred-plus years.  They're surviving on land that no one else wanted, but now that the swamp is being drained, they may lose that too.  This Tamiami Trail is going to cut more land off them." He was referring to the east-west highway being built across Florida, which would indeed bisect the Everglades.   As they packed up to head out, after borrowing the flat boat from next door, the Raiders set off into the swamp.  Dr. Hanson had packed his medical bag and a rain slicker.
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GM:  Who's heading out into the swamp, is anyone staying at the house, or in DC ?  Please respond by Saturday, 30 January, next post Sunday.  Hope all is well or as well as it can be expected
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In reply to The GM (msg # 6):

Irina will head out into the swamp. She'll ask Hanson if he knows a wise woman or medicine man among the Seminole that he could introduce us to.

The Lost City of Florida pt 2

Irina and Spider get into the boat with Hanson, while Thorne goes over the flat boat from next door, evicting a small possum from the cargo box.   Hanson answers Irina's question with a smile.  "The Medicine Man is Holata, the Alligator.  He's at least 90 years old, has bad cataracts, arthritis.  I've been trying to talk him into surgery for the cataracts, I know an excellent surgeon in St. Augustine, a friend of mine from medical school. Holata knows some excellent salves and ointments for a variety of illnesses - and he will probably be able to tell you what you want to know."  The warm rain came down a few minutes later, drenching the agents.  Irina was best prepared for the deluge.  They reached the reservation almost an hour later, weaving through long alleys of cypress trees and tall grass, hearing various animals in the underbrush.  A swamp rabbit splashed across the bow of the Doctor's boat, narrowly avoiding a medium-sized gator, and a cottonmouth swam alongside Spider's boat for just long enough to cause concern.  The rain stopped just as they were easing into the docks of the reservation.  A Seminole woman in a bright patchwork cotton dress stood under a palm tree, watching them silently.  "Good afternoon, Hachi," the Doctor said to the woman, with as courteous a bow as could be made from a boat.  "I have some friends here who would like to speak to Holata."
"He knows this," the Seminole woman said, simply, and caught the rope the Doctor tossed to her, quickly mooring it to the tree-trunk dock.
"Do I have any patients today ?"  Doctor Hanson asked.
"The same as last time," Hachi said, looking at each of the agents with a keen gaze. There was no change in her expression at all; but she did blink once, when she got to Thomas Thorne, who shrugged.
Doctor Hanson climbed out, held out a hand to assist Irina, and let the men offload themselves.  He also took up his medical bag.   "I'll take a look at little Micco's cast, if you will please take my friends to Holata," he said to Hachi.  She nodded once, and gave a slight hand wave to indicate that the agents should follow her.  The settlement itself was plain and utilitarian, with palm fronds forming the roofs of simple pole tents, open to the air on all sides.  A few youngsters were running around in the background, playing some kind of tag game, and a pair of old women were shelling peas into woven straw baskets.  The clothing was handmade, and usually featured patchwork and bold colours.  The agents had a sense of being watched, but it wasn't overt or threatening.  Hanson set off into the reservation with purpose, waving hello to the old women and the children.

Hachi led the agents on a winding path, where more lean to shelters were apparent, some with possessions settled near them, a bright basket, a homemade fishing pole.  The palm-thatched dwelling of the medicine man was well-decorated with bright yarn ties and seashells, and an ancient-looking man was quietly smoking a clay pipe, seated on a cushion of blankets.  His clothes were also patchwork, with shell beading, and what little hair he had was white.  His eyes were also heavily clouded by cataracts, but he was smiling and his face was turned towards the agents.  There was a short exchange in Seminole, and Hachi sat down near the old man's left side. "My English, it sometimes is not good," the old man said.  "The wind told me you were coming.  Who among you has the totem of the owl ?  Who speaks for you ?"

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GM: Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few minutes of gametime, by Saturday, 6 February, next post Sunday
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In reply to The GM (msg # 8):

Irina looks about, but will speak up if no-one else does.

"We come from Washington, but we are not the kind of Americans you may have dealt with in the past. We come because men have gone missing - rangers, and I know you may have had your differences with such men in the past. But not only because of them - also because there are rumours of magic, and the God of Dark Waters." She will show Hachi a picture of the glyphs. "We have encountered such spirits in the past, and would like to try and understand what it is that is happening here. What can you tell us of the history of this place, and the powers the dwell here?"

OOC: Sorry I’ve been distracted. Had to suddenly choose either to reapply for my job (which is changing from contract to in-house) or find a new one with my agency at another site. Figured it out Friday.

IC: Jack will greet Hanson and say they spoke on the phone, thanking him again for his assistance. He will certainly go along on the boat trip to the Seminole. He is an experienced boater from growing up on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.
He will wear wet-weather gear and bring a knapsack with most of his weapons packed in oilcloth, except for his .45 in a belt holster for quick protection. The shotgun will come along in an oilskin cover so as not to appear threatening to the Seminole.
He will smile at the women and children, and wave if they wave. He will thank Hachi when they get to Holata’s home. He will leave his pack and wrapped shotgun outside the entry and dip his head respectfully to the man. He doesn’t add anything to Irina’s excellent summary of their reason for coming.

The Lost City of Florida pt 3
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The agents notice that the Seminole are carefully watching them as they go to speak with the Medicine Man Holata.  The women and children did wave back at Jack.   Irina spoke, noticing that Holata turned his face towards her, smiling gently.  Hachi spoke to him in Seminole after looking intently at the glyphs Irina showed her.
"I can say many things, to those who would listen," the old man said.  "You are one who knows the hidden ways of power, lady from far away to the East.  Hachi -" he spoke in Seminole for about a minute, the woman nodding and frowning as she listened.
"The spirit of - of the waters.  Of the land, this place, it is an old spirit.   It shifts its form, the Dark Waters."  Hachi spoke, looking at Irina and company with a calm gaze, translating what Holata had told her.  "There are other spirits here too, like it, perhaps part of it.  They are owl-people.  We do not speak their name for they will hear it and come for us.  The place where you seek is deep in the swamp, what we call now the Moon town.  It is not safe. It is more dangerous than death."  She asked Holata something in Seminole, and he replied, shaking his head.
Hachi spoke again, after thinking about what to say.  "He says, the swamp itself is in more than one place, one time, one shape.  And it is - unhappy. The signs say, this offering is made to appease it."
Holata spoke again, and drew the blanket closer around him, though the day was quite warm.  Hachi paused, then spoke.
"He cannot take you to the place you seek.  I will take you there.  And you will do what you can to make the Dark Water God become peaceful again."  She stood up, took a machete in a deerskin sheath, clearly ready to go.
"Ahhh...." Thomas Thorne, typically unable to shut up for long, spoke up.  "Is there any idea what happened to the missing game wardens ?"
"Yes.  Their hearts were eaten, and they are dead," Hachi said matter-of-factly.
Holata spoke again. "Beware of owls," he said.  Hachi set off towards another dock, where two canoes were moored.  One looked like it was in dire need of repair, but she went to the better-looking one.  "There are no men to spare, so I will take you to that cursed place," she said.  "You must follow in the smaller boat, the doctor's boat - there are places where a large boat cannot fit.  If one of the men of your kind can row a canoe and is a good shot with a gun, he may sit in my canoe." She whipped her long hair up into a bun, securing it with bone spikes, and laid a fishing spear inside the canoe, preparing to depart immediately.
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GM:  Actions, etc, for the next hour or so of game time.  Anyone going in Hachi's canoe, or in the doctor's boat ?  Anyone staying in camp and asking more questions ?   Please respond with actions, etc, by Saturday 13 February, next post St. Valentine's Day, Sunday.  Hope everyone is all right and staying healthy.  Sorry to hear your job situation is a mess, Jack, hope it is resolved to your liking.
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Jack will ride with Hachi. He finds a couple of small chunks of wood to rest his shotgun on so it’s up out of any water in the bottom of the canoe. He will attempt to keep track of their direction of travel with a pocket compass and the sun. He will follow Hachi’s directions on when and where to paddle, stop, etc., without question since she obviously knows what she’s doing.

In reply to The GM (msg # 11):

Irina doesn't know one end of a boat from the other, and hopes that Thorne does. She'll take the doctor's canoe and paddle to someone else's directions if she won't be an impediment, or ride shotgun if not.

The Lost City of Florida pt 4

Irina opts to get in the doctor's flat boat, with Thorne piloting.  The Southerner seems to know what he's doing.  Fritz secures his rifle and takes the bow, ready to deal with anything that might try to eat the boat or the passengers.  Jack takes the second seat in Hachi's canoe, noting that the draft of the canoe seems shallow, so that they would be able to skim over most of the swamp.  "If you see an owl, tell me," Hachi said, "We will be watched.  That is why I allow a ghost man in my canoe today, so that you will be seen to be welcome.  The kill shot on an alligator is right behind the head, the top of the neck."
"Noted," said Thorne, who nodded at Fritz.  Hachi used her machete on a sapling as they passed, making a trail mark.  She continued to do this as they went, adding a slash each time.
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It was hot and sticky, now that the rain had stopped, and the insects were merciless.  The smell of the swamp surrounded them, along with the strange sounds of unseen animals and shifting water, the rattle of swamp grass in a slight breeze, the splash of paddles and the puttering of the boat's motor.  More than once Thorne had to stop to cut the rotor free of weeds.  On a mudbank to the West, a pair of immense crocodiles were sunning on the bank - both of them easily 12 feet long.  Thorne was clearly interested in bagging one, and was just about to turn to tell Fritz to shoot one, when an owl called, and was answered by another.  No one could see any owls, and Hachi kept on paddling.  The sun crested overhead, and there was still more swamp.  Jack checked their bearings, but found the compass was giving strange readings - sometimes the needle just went spinning and would not settle.  Hachi marked another cypress root with some cuts.  "We are close," she said.
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Then silence fell; only the water splashing as it was displaced by the boats, and a faint rustle of the sedge grass.  It was eerie and unsettling.  Something rocked the canoe from underneath - Jack caught a glimpse of a massive alligator in the murky water, easily bigger than the canoe, as he struggled to keep it from tipping.  Then there was the loud report of Fritz's rifle, echoing through the overhanging cypress, and the alligator thrashed away.  The owls began calling again, one, then two, then more.  Ahead, there seemed to be a heavily overgrown island, vines claiming what look to be stone blocks of a ruin.  A broken gateway, what was apparently a round gate at one time, is the landing point, the mudbank being low enough to drive the canoe up onto it.  "Moon town." Hachi said, keeping her voice low.  "Take nothing from this place.  Do not lose sight of each other. You will not find your way back."  She got out of the canoe, mooring it to a stone block with a length of rope, and called out to the town in Seminole.  There was no reply, just the lapping of water.  Silently, like a shadow from the depth of night, a huge Great Horned owl soared out of the cypress trees to land on the broken moon gate, staring at them with big golden eyes.
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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday, 20 February, next post Sunday.
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(posted for Spider)

Spider helps paddle but keeps quiet.  He does his best to do whatever Hachi suggests, helping cut weeds off propellers, and being ready to shoot gators and/or crocs.  Once they are at Moon Town, he just keeps looking around, trying to see trouble before it gets to them.  Once they see the large owl, he whispers to Hachi, "Do we bow down, make an offering, shoot it?"

Jack frowns at the spinning compass and pays close attention to Hachi’s trail blazing as they go further in. When they arrive, he will follow her lead, getting out when she does, and he will bring his pack and cased shotgun with him. He will eye the bird politely and give a nod in its direction. If nothing else occurs, he will let his eyes roam over the nearby area, looking for signs of activity, markings on the stonework, etc.

In reply to The GM (msg # 14):

Irina will carry her shotgun over her shoulder, stay close to Jack, and take her lead from Hachi. Does her archaeology (or indeed Cthulhu Mythos) tell her anything about the ruin?

The Lost City of Florida pt 5
Somewhere in the Everglades


Hachi whispers urgently to the Agents. "Don't shoot anything here.  Even if it attacks !"  She then bows to the owl, speaking in Seminole, with a staying hand towards the Agents.  "I have asked their permission for you to look at the place where the last sacrifice was made - only four of you may go.  It is a number sacred to these people."

Irina looked closely at the ruins, as does Jack.  The island is maybe a half-mile or less, with swamp overgrowth over everything they can currently see.  The worn carvings half-hidden by vines definitely reminded her of Mayan petroglyphs, morphed humanoid animals with depictions of wind, moon, and water.  Even the stone looked out of place - not the expected coral, more like limestone.  It would have had to have been quarried elsewhere and moved.  But what was worse - as she watched, a black shadow oozed along the bottom of one wall, pooling on the ground, then creeping along another broken block of stone.  There was nothing there that could cast such a shadow.  Jack doesn't discern this so much, but Irina clearly sees the deliberate independent movement of something deeply unnatural - it is the same soul-rending feeling she had when the Dark Young was on the attack.

"Hey-" Thorne hissed, pointing at the water.  Darkness was bubbling up, like oil from beneath the water and spreading, surrounding the canoe and the flat boat.  Both vessels rocked as they were lifted up by thick black stuff.  Questing tentacles slid up along the edge of the canoe, tracing a Seminole pattern painted on the hull.  (Sanity rolls....(Jack -2 san, Irina -5 san, phobia: darkness, Spider, -3 san, Fritz -8 san, phobia: darkness, Thorne, -1 san, Hachi, -2 san)..)  The normally stable Fritz bolts from the boat in a standing leap that would win awards, and scurries up onto a stone block, clutching his rifle.  "Dammit !" Thorne said under his breath.   " Macht nichts, mit ihnen gehen, sei vorsichtig."  Fritz stared back, wide-eyed.  "I'll be right here when you get back, Fritzi," Thorne said.   Hachi was fumbling in the canoe, pulling out a beaded feather fan.  She began to wave and flick it, intoning a nasal chant in Seminole.   Spider notes that she seems very scared, but determined.  Carefully, cautiously, Irina, Jack and Spider moved out onto the overgrown island, the huge owl turning on its perch to watch them go.  It takes some persuasion to move Fritz, but eventually he moves.  The pooling darkness trails after them like oil, spreading and slinking along.

The ruins seem to have been a large structure, perhaps a temple.  No wall is undamaged and the vines are heavily overgrown - apart from one flat area where the stone blocks are stained with dark brown gunk, by a heavy stone slab with thick grooves cut into it, also clogged with the brown goo - dried blood.  There is no body, but the glyphs are the same as from their earlier information.   Just at the edge of their vision the Agents see owls moving around on silent wings, keeping to the outskirts of the ruin.  As they observe the scene, the darkness following them pools larger and thicker, bubbling obscenely.

GM:  Actions, please, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday 27 February, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and coping !
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Jack tries to shake off the horror creeping over him and recites the 23rd Psalm under his breath as they go. In the temple, he will walk carefully around the altar, looking for tracks, marks, or other evidence apart from the obvious.He will NOT go out of sight nor let anyone else do so.

The Lost City of Florida pt 6

The Lost City, desolate ruins in a swamp, site of what must be a ritual sacrifice.  It's clear that at least one person, possibly more, have been sacrificed here at the grooved stone block.  There's too much blood for one person.  And notably the flies are staying away from it.  In fact the only living things the Agents have seen have been owls, and that gross tarlike mass that is following them.
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Jack calls upon his faith as he moves around carefully, and once again finds the wand in his hand; but he kept everyone in view.  The slurry of black goo continues to slowly follow after them, emitting bubbles that pop with ugly wet sounds.  A small brown owl alights on one of the broken stone walls, watching them with large yellow eyes.

Then, fast as a bolt of lightning, a huge light grey owl dives across the clearing, seizing the small owl in its talons and carrying it off.  Owls wing back and forth in great consternation, but stay well away from the temple area and none land where they might easily be seen.  The bubbling darkness draws back, oozing into a thicker mass.  To the Agents' surprise, Fritz pulls out a slab of white chalk and eyes the darkness with cold intent.  Perhaps it is no mystery that Fritz' sanity is more easily challenged - studying the Mythos has its effects on one's sanity.
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Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday 6 March, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all doing as well as possible.
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In reply to The GM (msg # 20):

Irina scuttles away from the spreading darkness, just about managing to heed Hachi's warning not to shoot anything.

She rests a hand on Fritz's shoulder, and shakes her head.

"I think throwing rocks probably counts as well," she tells him shakily. "It's *wrong*, I know, so keep an eye on it - but don't hit it yet."

The Lost City of Florida pt 7

Irina went to Fritz's side.  The German seemed to be having trouble with English at the moment, but he had one intent.  On the reverse side of the agents' badges, an Elder sign was inscribed.  Fritz  knelt down, dragging the chalk along the stone paving, copying the symbol while keeping a weather eye on the monstrosity.  The seething darkness seemed to recognise what he was about, too - it began sinking back through the cracks in the paving.  As Irina stared at the sight, she noticed something else, nearly hidden in a patch of weeds; a brown leather billfold, such as a man would carry.  Inside was a card identifying Harry Fenderson as a licenced New York driver, residing at #132 Sixth Street, Scotia, NY; a tattered photograph of a smiling woman in a flapper's dress, twelve dollars, and a couple of slips of paper with numbers on them.  A rank breeze riffled through the vines and weeds, carrying with it a distant chanting of deep voices, unnervingly resonant, with the smell of ozone.

Then the blast of a handgun, fired once, then again.  Owls scattered from their hidden perches, moving away fast.

GM: Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by 13 March, Saturday, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all as well as can be.

Heeding their guide’s admonition against firing guns, Jack readies the Fist spell and runs toward the gunfire.
“We’re here to help!” he yells as he runs.

Posted for Spider:
Spider had been standing, almost frozen place, but the sound of the handgun seemed to snap him out of it.  He turned in that direction and began moving cautiously in that direction, rifle at the ready.

A Madman in a Swamp pt 1

The Raiders hurry towards where they think the shots came from, and abruptly find themselves at the end of the island ruins- no boat, no canoe, no Thorne, no Hachi, just - swamp.  And a gaunt, raggedly dressed tramp is standing on a mangrove root thicket and waving an old Colt Navy pistol.   Rotten teeth show in his heavily bearded face as he howls "You go on and git out !  It's MY treasure !  MINE !"  He aims the Colt Navy at Jack, just as Spider slides up along a ruined wall with his rifle.  Irina is behind the two Raiders and no one knows where Fritz is.

GM: Actions, etc, please respond by 20 March (Saturday) next post is Sunday.  Hoping we can all look back at this some day and laugh.  Preferably not locked up in the psych ward while we're laughing.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:50, Sun 14 Mar 2021.

Jack holds up his empty hands to show the strange figure that he is unarmed, while keeping the fist spell near the forefront of his mind.
“We’re not here for any treasure,” Jack says in an even tone, trying to calm the man. “We are looking for three missing rangers. Can you tell us what’s been going on out here? “