The Expedition Stage 1: Getting There pt 5

------Overlooking the camp site-----Everyone------
"There were a few expeditions that went over the Ross Ice shelf just as we did, including the Ross Sea Party in 1916," Ben said.  "This looks like it's been abandoned a while, for years.  But there might be something down there worth salvaging, and if there was an attack, we need all the information we can get.  Jack, Spider, be careful."  He looked over at Thorne and Trachenberg, who were playing rock-paper-scissors to see who went along.  Thorne smugly won, and went to Bruno's sled, pulling out the wrapped packages that were tent materials, lightening the load so that all three could ride the small sled.

---Heading down to look at the camp site----Jack, Spider, and Thorne----
Please refer to the dreadful map I have attempted to render--

"No reason to walk," Thorne said.   "Fritzi, keep a scope on us.  Nolan, keep an eye out elsewhere, and Boss, see you later."  He slung one of the Thompsons over his shoulder, hanging the belt with professional ease.  Bruno snorted, got tossed a lump of charcoal from Thorne's pocket, and was quickly galloping over the ice.  All three men ducked down as the big monster's paws kicked up a lot of snow and ice.  The sun was lowering in the sky, the mountains cast long ugly shadows across the ice, but it would not be setting today, or for many months to come.  In about an hour, the sled was on the ice plateau the camp was set up on.  It looked like the winds had done a good deal of damage, though some of the tents looked worse than others.  Some kind of massive icy lump was at the North end of the camp; the tents were arrayed in two rows of four tents, east to west, with a larger tent set off farther east.  Most of the tents were completely collapsed and covered with rime and snow.  Bruno sniffed suspiciously, but didn't complain when Thorne leashed him and told him to "heel".   The wind from the mountains whistled in that horrible keening that grated on the nerves.  Other than ripped canvas stirred by the wind, nothing was moving but the Agents.

"What a mess." Thorne said, grimacing.  The elements had crushed, covered and flattened the tents such that looking through them would be time-consuming and difficult.  "Big one first ?"  He walked that way, Bruno beside him, easily outweighing Thorne but doing a fair imitation of a trained dog.  The canvas of the big tent was fairly intact, though the supports had collapsed under the weight of snow.  Bruno sniffed and growled, a deep-throated rumble, and dug at the snow by one side of the tent.  Soon there was a hole big enough for them to squeeze into, the original tent probably being 20 feet long and 10 feet wide.  A folding table, half-collapsed, was in the centre of the room, with a tipped-over smaller table that had held metal trays of knives and what looked like dissection equipment; most disturbing, though, was that the packed snow underfoot was a dirty red colour, like dried blood, and there was a LOT of it.  Bruno sniffed and bumped a tray with his nose; under the tray and pressed into the snow was an odd three-pronged shape, perhaps the footprint of something unnatural.  The canvas tent walls also showed signs of massive blood splatter, and one of the walls had been sheared away from the tent at some point.

"Not liking this at all, no Sir," Thorne muttered, but got out his camera, used a scalpel as a reference for size, and snapped a picture of the footprint.  Bruno sat down and was rewarded with another lump of charcoal.   Spider looked for anything of use, but the elements had done their damage.  There were no notebooks or papers of any kind to be found that might indicate what was going on here.

The next most intact tent was the eighth tent.  The canvas was perforated in the sides, small holes that looked like bullet holes.  Again, blood stained the snow inside, but stuck in the ice was an opened box of rifle bullets, for a Lee-Enfield rifle; four were left.  The two cots were empty and broken by the weather and nothing else was there.

Bruno then took it into his head to drag Thorne along to the big pile of snow at the far end of the camp.  "No idea, but if there's something, he'll dig it out," Thorne said, hauled along by the massive beast.  "I got a feeling we don't want to hang around here for a long time though !"
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-------Staying up on the hill looking down at the campsite----Nolan, Fritz, and Ben------

In the absence of much else to do, Ben asked Fritz and Nolan to set up the radio set, to try to get word to Doan on board the ice breaker.  The dogs got a round of dog pemmican to keep them busy, and the two agents put together the antenna and cranked up the radio.  It took a lot of attempts, and some creative use of the wire, to finally get through clearly to the Carstairs 2.   Doan sounds happy to hear from them.  "All that I can see is ice and some penguins," their captain reports.
"We're looking at an old camp site now, but nothing eventful here so far," Ben reported.  "Wire back to home base that we're alive and well for now."   Then Ben straightened up, staring at the mountains.  There had been a flash of light, small and brief, from one of the basalt peaks.  "Be careful out there, Captain Doan.  Landing Party, over and out."
"Fritz !"  Ben pointed with the transmitter; the agent trained his sniper rifle on the mountain peaks.
"No movement," the German reported, after careful observation.
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GM:  Up to you what tents you want to look at; all of them will take about three hours to explore, but you will still have adequate daylight.  Up to the hillside party (Nolan) if you want to join them on the plateau or stay on the hill watching the mountains.  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next hour or so of game time, by Saturday, 19 February, next post Sunday.
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Looking carefully at the blood splattered on the walls of the big tent, Jack comments, “This much spray, whatever was being cut up was still alive. Vivisection. Does that footprint match the elder thing from earlier? Its blood wasn’t red. So maybe it was one of them that was doing the dissecting.” He shakes his head at the thought of whomever was cut up alive. “Poor bastards.”
     He will look for any maker’s marks on the broken furniture and metal trays, trying to at least determine country of origin. He agrees with Spider that they should go through the individual tents, at least until they find a bit more information about the presumably deceased expedition members. Or more about their fate.
     When Bruno heads for the large mound of ice, Jack gets a sick feeling. “That’s probably the crew,” he says to Spider and Thorne over the eerie wind. “And it probably won’t be pleasant!”

In reply to Jack (msg # 16):

Spider frowned briefly.  "We're here.  Might as well check it all out.  These bullets could come in handy.  Maybe we can find more stuff."  While Bruno dug, Spider began probing the nearest tents they had not examined.

OOC:  3, 4 and 5 most likely.

The Expedition Stage 1: Getting There pt 6

-------At the ruined camp; Jack, Spider, Thorne and Bruno----
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Jack's survey of the big tent seemed to indicate the worst.  He looks at the broken cots and sees that they were manufactured in Glasgow, Scotland.  The trays have no markings beyond some kind of hallmark, a crown with a letter 'A' beneath it.

The two agents go and have a look at tents 3, 4, and 5, while Bruno hauls Thorne to the ice mound and begins digging through hard ice, forcing the Southerner to let go of Bruno's leash and step back out of the path of flying ice shards.

Tent 3:  The tent has been ransacked and the door flap was torn.  The cots are flipped but the bedding is gone, and some clothes are packed into the ice; Spider sees the imprint as a match for the one in the large tent, a three-sectioned footprint.  No heavy clothes are there, just a few shirts and a lone sock.  One shirt has a label from London, England.  (Spot hidden rolls, please)

Tent 4: Supplies and food.  Wood packing cases have been torn asunder, sacks of flour and sugar are ripped.  Heavy tin canisters of lard and cooking oil have been twisted and smashed, and some tinned meat and pemmican containers have been smashed.  There are empty match boxes and no spices, salt or pepper.  None of it is recoverable.

Tent 5: this tent was crushed by the most snow of all the tents, and there were cots in it, made ready with bedrolls and blankets, but there is nothing that indicates who was in here; it looks as if no one was in residence.

As Spider and Jack puzzled over their finds, Bruno stopped digging and sat back, howling mournfully.  Thorne looked surprised and went to gather up Bruno's leash, but stopped when he saw what the big beast had uncovered, he cursed loud and long, a string of expletives that sizzled the air blue.   They went to see what was there, and the sight was grisly; a large number of good sled dogs had been butchered.  From the amount of bloody ice, and the appearance of the carcasses, they had been tortured first, some skinned alive, some chopped apart.  Bruno howled again, and Thorne howled with him, the eerie cry of the Rebel.  The hellhound stopped making noise and stared at Thorne, who nodded at it.

--------Back on the hill looking at the ruined camp; Nolan, Ben and Fritz---
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Fritz switched from checking the mountains for movement to surveying the camp.  "They're moving around the tents, looking at a couple of them.  That damn hound is going after something....and it's found something.  Oh, not good.  Maybe a body."  The howling came up from the campsite on the wind.  Fritz switched his sighting back to the mountains.  "Shining.  Something on the peak to the left of the twisted one."

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GM: Please respond with actions, etc for the next hour of game time, by Saturday 26 February, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and that the winter is beginning to relent, we had snow yesterday, and robins today.
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OOC:  Roll for Spider, please. (OK, will do- M, got a 57%)

IC:

Spider made sure nothing was hidden among the clothes, then looked at Jack.  "I think this is enough.  Nothing recoverable, and few clues, other than these prints.  Let's get back to the others."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:04, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

[Rolled a 59 from PBE online roller, you should have received by email.]
Jack grimly searches methodically until Spider says they should go. At that, he stands to stretch and looks up, trying to see if the albatross is in sight. When Bruno and Thorne howl, Jack walks to them. Seeing the tortured, mangled bodies of the dogs is bad — but Jack was expecting it to be men, so he guiltily feels a bit of relief.

Getting There pt 7:
---------------Jack and Spider--------
Between the two agents, something is found.  A small notebook cover jammed under packed snow; the inside cover has the owner's name in blurred ink - Aeneas Mackintosh.  No pages, they have been ripped out.

The light reflection picks up as the sun lowers in the sky, but due to the season, the sun will not set.  A red-yellow flash again comes from the peak of the twisted mountain, with another further off in the mountain range.  Spider and Jack trudge up the hill to where Ben and the others wait, Bruno hauling Thorne along after them.   They relate their findings to Ben, Fritz and Nolan.

---------Everyone-------------

"It's nearly eight o'clock," Ben said, "But I'd feel safer to get a few more miles between us, and that camp.  Something bad happened here."   He eyed Thorne, who nodded.  Bruno was put back in his harness and the teams set out again, bearing South-South-East.  The unrelenting wind came back as the sun lowered in the sky, with the odd red and yellow flashes coming from the mountain tops - unclimbable mountaintops - in irregular patterns.  The sound of it, whistling and piping some unknown threat.  An hour later the bitter cold had worn out the dogs and they were still a day's journey or more from the supply drop, where they would be able to rest for a day or two.   The cold and the wind give little chance for rest, the wind shrieking out of the mountains in that nerve-grating random music.  Even after wrapping their heads to dampen the noise it is still difficult to rest.  The dogs are restless as well and it is an unpleasant night, but there were no attacks.   Jack saw no sign of his albatross, but he did notice that Fritz would look at the sky every so often.

Camp food was still decent, the careful cooking of which Spider either did himself or at least oversaw.  It required a couple of strong pots of coffee to get the agents underway the next morning, with Fritz cajoling the reluctant sled dogs - until Bruno began barking at them.  The cadence and pitch of the hellhound sounded almost like talking, and some of the huskies, such as Eska and Kaskae, were talking back.  Some accord seemed to have been reached among the canines as they went to their places to be harnessed without further argument.  Spider took the lead, keeping the same heading as the previous day, which put the mountains slightly to their right.  Next was Fritz, then Nolan and Jack, with Thorne again the rear guard.

It is another long day, bitterly cold and windy, but a welcome sight is spotted about five in the evening; the first cache of supplies, Camp One.  The crates are intact, their parachute however is shredded by the wind and ice.   This meant bigger tents, cots as opposed to bedrolls, and a better supply of food.  By nine o'clock they had a good tent up, the cots unfolded, the big camp stove lit, and the dogs were chewing on a good dinner of dog pemmican and special cooked cakes, which had been prepared for them by Leonhard Seppala himself.  The camp dinner for the humans was roasted potatoes, beef stew and carrots, with a cup each of tinned pears for dessert.  There was plenty of kerosene to keep the camp stove on for warmth.  With a set of windbreaks made of the ripped parachute and a canvas sheet, Fritz managed to subdue the wind to a point where the agents had some relief from the whistling.   The agents were exhausted, and no one had much to say; watches were set, but there was nothing to trouble them.  The next morning came with a series of snow squalls, and the weather made a good excuse to stay in the tent and rest.  Ben tried to read through some notes and kept falling asleep anyway, Thorne and Fritz set up the radio and tried to contact Doan.  The reception was miserable, static so severe it was impossible to tell if they'd made contact or not.  Candles in hurricane glasses provided light inside the tent.

The sled dogs were talking again off and on, but it sounded more like conversation than anything to be concerned about.  Fritz got their booties and began to clean and repair them, while Thorne played Solitaire on his cot.  A laundry line was strung up and there were socks drying in the warmth of the stove.  It wasn't home, but it was as close as they were going to get for a while.   Dinner, a rich soup of chicken bouillon fortified with dried vegetables was simmering on the stove, to be eaten with fresh biscuits Spider had baked earlier, along about five o'clock.   The snow was still whipping around outside.  All in all, quite nice to be inside, considering....

....then the dogs began howling and shrieking, with Bruno's deep growl rumbling as a hostile undertone.

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GM: Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by 5 March, Saturday, next post is Sunday.
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Spider immediately grabbed the big rifle and checked the action, making sure that severe cold had not frozen it up.   He grabbed one of the torches that would project as much light as possible, despite the conditions and readied to step outside.  "We have to defend the dogs.  Not only are they adorable, but we're dead without them."

Jack likewise suits up, with the wand reachable in its custom pocket, and straps on a belt with a pair of flare pistols along with his .45.  He shoves a few extra flares in an outside pocket for quick reloading. When they step out, if they can see the dogs and the direction that they are reacting towards, Jack will fire a flare in a high arc to illuminate the dogs and the area where the threat seems to be. He will shoot high, so it gives light for a while, but makes sure to angle it far enough that it will land well past the dogs.
Other than that, he will quickly scan the area around the tent for tracks. He will try to keep Spider in sight at all times.

… alternatively, if the dogs are in an outer portion of the big tent (as was the case at the earlier camp) as opposed to being outside, Jack will fire the flare high in the direction they seem to be reacting towards. If the direction is unclear, he will fire upwind, figuring they smelled something on the wind.

The Expedition Stage 1: Getting There pt 8

-----Outside the tent-----
Snow was whipping along in the changing winds, and the dogs outside were in a frenzy; it was nearly impossible to see anything from the tent.  Spider checked on Matilda, the heavy rifle a reassuringly solid item.  The most steady torch was one of the camp lanterns that was near the tent flaps.  As he went, he saw Fritz speedily grabbing his coat, and Thorne flipping open the heavy weapons case.  Ben was struggling out of his slumber and Nolan was still out cold.  Jack was likewise arming up, getting on his coat.  One of the dogs shrieked and the rest howled - with Bruno's heavy snarl.

---------The dogs------
The sled dogs and the hellhound are tangling with something, the snarling and growling has gotten fierce; a huge rent in the dog's shelter was flapping in the wind.  A horrific smell flowed through the air, like rotting squid left in the sun for a week.  Something was flying in the wind and snow, something that was a substantial shadow in the light of the lowering sunlight.  It moved almost like a jellyfish on the wind current, its exact appearance not easily discerned in the snow squall.  Spider tossed the lamp onto the snow to bring Matilda to bear on whatever it was, as the lifeless body of one of the huskies fell in a bloody heap at his feet.  Jack fired a flare at the shape, the bright light illuminating a barrel-shaped monstrosity, the size of a large man, with membranous combs or wings flaring out in the winds.  It tapered top and bottom, the middle about 3.5' thick; some kind of lashing stalks were whipping along with the odd wings.  The colour was hard to discern; it had a purplish iridescence, over a greyish green hide.   Spider raised Matilda and fired, but his shot went wide as an eddy of wind lifted the thing higher.   Fritz, the next one out of the tent, simply froze and stared at the Thing flying in the snow, but Thorne snatched the Thompson submachine gun from him and raised it to fire.   (GM rolls: Jack, Spider and Thorne all saved vs. sanity check, and Fritz failed spectacularly).   The monster spins and twists in the wind, dividing its attention between the dogs, who are leaping up to snap at it, and the humans, who are opening fire.  Bruno leaps, the heavy muscle giving the beast a good vault, and latches onto one of its feet; the weight of the hellhound drags the creature downwards.  The wind and cold is brutal - none of the men had had enough time to properly dress for it, and aiming weapons is difficult with the conditions.  Bruno wrenches at the creature and rips its foot off, and the thing whistles in a nerve-grating shriek of sound.  The hellhound falls and rolls in the snow as the monstrosity it had just savaged whirls and lashes out with fine tentacles at the dogs.

Spider chambers another round and takes aim as Thorne rips a short burst at the Thing, before the Thompson jams.  Jack raises his .45........

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GM: Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday, 12 March, next post Sunday.   We seem to have lost Nolan, so I'll NPC him for a while.
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Spider takes a few steps closer, aims carefully and tries for center mass of the horrifying creature.

With more confidence in the effectiveness of a flare rather than a .45 slug against the monstrous creature, Jack pulls the other flare pistol from his belt and fires it as accurately as he can as the creature is hovering. (Keeper please roll.)
*IF* the creature persists in attacking despite the gunfire, flares, and maiming courtesy of Bruno, Jack will draw the wand and utter a prayer as he aims it:
“Benevolent Athena, help me strike down this unclean abomination that has no place here in the world of men.” He will try to open himself as a conduit for energy to flow through him and the wand, rather than allowing the wand to just pull energy out of him.

Expedition pt 1: Getting there pt 8

---------------Outside in the snow-----------

The dogs are in a frenzy, alternately yelping and dodging back, then trying to latch their teeth onto the monster.   This is keeping it distracted, so its attention is fixed on them. Spider lifts Matilda and aims for the middle of the barrel shape.  Jack fires the flare into the thing,  the Very's payload exploded out with a blaze of fire and shredded the left side of the monstrosity's body, lacing it with burning phosphorous.  Once again, Matilda's voice booms across the frozen wasteland a second later.   The floating Thing rocked and folded, its weird membranous wings flapping to try to keep it aloft.  Thorne had thrown down the jammed Thompson and pulled his LeMat from his shoulder harness, bracing with both hands and feet firmly planted.  The LeMat spat grapeshot at the monster and punched another hole in its weird shape.  It tumbled from the sky, and then the dogs were on it; in a flash, grey-green ichor was splashing onto the snow and its dying whistling was barely heard above the fury of the canines.

But Jack noticed the wand was again in his hand, though he hadn't consciously drawn it - and his coat was still fastened.

"What...the...."  Ben had finally clambered out of the tent to see what was going on, and had thought to at least put his boots, coat and hat on.   The stench hit him and he coughed.  "That - that was an Elder Thing ?"
"Yep," said Thorne, fishing the strap of the Thompson out of the snow.  "Cold out here. Let's go in."
"The dogs -" Fritz said, starting towards them, but Thorne grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back towards the tent.
"Not safe to be around them right now, we'll take a look later and patch them up if they need it."  Thorne chivvied them along.
"But -" Ben said, but at a glare from Thorne, gave up and went back inside the tent.

---In the tent-----

Ben waited until everyone was inside, then fastened the tent flaps closed.  Thorne had gone right to the camp stove and was holding his hands out for heat.   Fritz was sitting on a cot, the Thompson next to him, blankly staring off into space.  Nolan was still unconscious, but it looked as if Ben had tried to waken him.  Jack and Spider were cold too, and the warmth of the tent was a welcome relief.  Frostbite could occur very quickly, even in the Antarctic summer.
"Okay." Ben said, assuming the Boss voice.  "That was - well handled.  We will need to be aware of attacks and it seems like the dogs are going to know about it before we do. Is everyone all right ?"
Everyone was more or less all right, though Nolan wasn't waking up.
"We'll go and look at the dogs once they calm down." Thorne said, nodding at Fritz. "There's a medical kit in my gear bag, we can stitch up any injuries."
"We will still stay here another day," Ben said. "Longer, if we need to."
"Okay by me," Thorne said, and kicked Fritz's boot.  The German nodded, finally waking up a little.  "Have some dinner, go see the dogs, set a watch, all good stuff."

-----Later----
The snow squalls had died away, leaving a clear sky with some high clouds.  The wind had fallen off, and the incessant whistling seemed less obvious, or perhaps they were getting accustomed to the noise.

The camp's main tent had become an impromptu infirmary for the injured dogs.  Three had died in the attack, including Eska, a death that had shaken Fritz very hard.  Bruno had a few fresh cuts on his ugly muzzle, but was cheerfully licking his chops.  Seven more dogs had injuries, two seriously injured, but all in all, they would still have full teams to pull the sleds after another day of rest.  There was little left of the Eldar Thing besides a fading stink, some scattered flesh and greyish ichor; the dogs had ripped it to shreds.   Kaskae, Spider's lead dog, had a foreleg injury and was begging shamelessly for table scraps as soon as he was in the tent.  The most injured dogs were brought in and settled into Fritz's cot, wrapped in blankets and hand fed.   The rest of the dogs sheltered in their own tent, rigged back up by Thorne and Fritz, with Bruno keeping them warm.   Ben set up a mirror and a candle, and checked his watch.  Exactly at midnight, he spoke a spell, in the harshly accented Akkadian, and the mirror fogged, then cleared, the image of the candle splitting in two and then changing into a single flame.  "We're still alive, an Elder Thing attacked." he said quietly.
"Are you all right ?" came Mikaela Weintraub's voice from the mirror.
"We are, so far.  Nolan's ill.  No frostbite.  Camp One."
"Doan radioed in earlier.  Supplies are coming by air."
"Who sent them ?" Ben asked.
"Edith.  Coordinates 77°13.981’S, 158°13.450’. We miss you."
"I love you.  Be careful."
"Be careful. I love -" Mikaela's voice faded, as the candle guttered out, and the mirror fogged again.  Ben silently set the candle aside and put the mirror away, pausing only to write down the coordinates.

Spider had Matilda to see to; the big rifle seemed to take to any weather just fine, though he noted that the Thompson had jammed due to too much lubricant, which had solidified.  Fritz sat down to examine all their weapons as the two dogs on his cot slept the night away.   Thorne snored, with a husky sprawled across his feet, also snoring.  Nolan slept on.   Jack went outside to look into the skies, still hazy with sunlight, though it was the middle of the night; from out of the high-banked clouds, a single bird soared, a sea bird of some size, white and grey.  The sight of the bird so far from sea was unusual, but also comforting.
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GM:   Please respond with actions for the next few hours of game time, by Saturday 19 March, next post on Sunday.
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Spider sat silent for a bit, petting the dogs for comfort.  Both his and theirs.  He finally said, "I know we need to rest after that fight, but I'm not sure we should stay too long.  That bloody piping keeps working on us all, and it gives whatever works against us more time to hit us while we're stationary.  Once we have those supplies, if we can, I think we should move on.  I just hope we gi3ve the dogs enough time to recover."  He glanced at Ben.  "How far are those coordinates from here?  I'm willing to go after them if it's not too far."

Jack is pleased that using the wand was not necessary. He smiles at the sight of the bird flying in the weird night sky.
Back inside, he makes a cup of tea with a shot of brandy “to help me relax”, and offers the same to Fritz nonchalantly. He again keeps an eye on Ben as well as the unwaking Nolan, trying to keep a careful gauge of everyone’s mental health and disposition.
Still, he needs to rest, too, so he says a prayer to Athena, thanking her for her continued guidance and protection, then climbs into his bed.

Expedition Part One: Camp One pt 9

--------Everyone-------
"We're staying another day.  For the dogs.  If we lose any more, we'll have to leave behind equipment we need to survive."  Ben sounded quite reasonable to Spider, but then he always did seem to have a lot of emotional control.  "I'm not sure how far we are from the drop - and she didn't mention when it was coming, but I guess it will be soon.  I'll go over our maps and try to determine how long it will take us to get there."

Jack offers a spiked drink to Fritz, who accepts it with quiet thanks.   It takes the German a while to settle down to sleep, and as Jack settles in, he sees Ben quietly unscrolling their maps and looking at them carefully, comparing their estimated location to where the equipment drop would be using the sextant readings that Fritz had been taking.   Ben took the last watch of the 'night'.   All was quiet.

The agents and their support staff of huskies and a hellhound had briefly settled into a campsite now, and are recovering from their recent attack.  Only two of the dogs will need to be placed in the sleds, the others are able to run alongside, or pull in harness.  Fritz's team leader is replaced by a smallish husky named Kavi.  Overall the dogs seemed to be unbothered by their encounter with the Mythos, though they were quieter than yesterday.  Nothing much is left of the Elder Thing that had been torn up by the dogs, and apparently mostly eaten by Bruno, whose digestion wasn't right the next day.   The hellhound refused charcoal biscuits and would only lap up gelled petroleum.   Nolan was also unresponsive, in a deep slumber.   "We'll pack him into a sled, with the injured dogs, they'll keep each other warm.  Remember, Seppala told us about altitude sickness - and we have had more training than Nolan."

Their gear is repaired, cleaned, and made ready for departure.  Thorne refills his medical kit from their supplies and the agents secure the tent, in case they had to return to it sooner than expected.   "Here's what I think," Ben said, laying out the maps and showing the agents the route.  "The drop is this way, Southeast.  I think it's going to be on top of a glacier.  That might mean difficult terrain.  This puts us out of our path into the mountains, but  Edith would only send us equipment if she believed we had to have it, and it might be more than one sled can carry.  We should also stay together for safety.   I'm hoping we can get there in ten hours, maybe make camp on or near the glacier.   We'll switch lead drivers every couple of hours, to keep our eyes fresh on the path.  There could be loose ice, crevasses, all kinds of trouble."

The dogs were harnessed and the gear was packed, at least what they were taking with them.  Back into the cold, with the wind coming from the mountains, shrill and whistling.  Jack was the first leader, setting a steady pace following the new route.  At each break, Fritz took out the sextant and copied down readings, comparing it to the route, and minor adjustments were made.  Clouds blew in but without adding ice and snow.  It was about three o'clock in the afternoon that an orange blur was visible on an ice ridge some miles distant.   The binoculars showed a couple of orange flags attached to something in a net, on top of a huge ice shelf.   Spider took the next lead, and was cautious in his approach; when his lead dog Kaskae shied and slowed the team, he heard a creaking sound deep underfoot.  The ice deep underneath them was cracking.
(GM rolled a 01% for Spider's perception.)   The agents stopped before it became dangerous to proceed.

The rest of the journey to the supplies would need to be made on foot, carefully.  Thorne unpacked ice cleats and rope, with ice axes.   "Okay, Boss isn't going, because who would sign our paychecks, Nolan's out of it, that leaves Jack, Fritzi, Spider and me."
"You can't climb up there, so I will go," Fritz said.  This provoked a round of rock-scissors-paper between the two.  Thorne won.
"Okay," the Southerner said smugly, settling a roll of rope over his shoulder. "Who's going with me, I'm not carrying all that stuff back myself."  The dog that had slept on his feet was one of the unharnessed dogs, and was now ambling over towards him.  "And she's not carrying it either.  Look at you, Precious."  He patted the dog and dropped the rope.
"Fritz, you're staying here, with a rifle," Ben said, as the German went for the rope. "Spider, Jack, either or both of you go with Thorne.  Be careful.  We'll wait here."
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GM: Actions, please, for the next hour of gametime, by Saturday, 26 March, next post Sunday
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Spider frowned and stared at them as if they were out of their minds.  "Why on Earth would anyone assume I'm NOT going to climb?  If anyone can climb that bloody face, it'll be me.  Jack, you're welcome to come.  But no way I'm letting any of you near that ice wall without me belaying you."  He came from a family of alpinists, and being the first of them to ascend something in Antarctica was just as much of an allure as was ensuring the safety of his friends.

Jack laughs out loud at Spider’s insistence on making the climb.
“Saw THAT coming a mile away! You could probably climb it blindfolded, too. And we may be a long way from the tidal flats of the Chesapeake Bay, but I’m up for the challenge of some new terrain.”
He then adds with the slightest hint of defensiveness, “I did all the reading, and practiced with the gear.”
     As usual, he will wear a belt with his .45 (with Fritz’s special loads) and two flare pistols, and carry several reloads for each in his pockets. The wand, too, needless to say. Also a sturdy sheath knife, a compass, a brass lighter, matches, and a metal cup. Visions of Shackleton’s stranded crew haunt the edges of his thoughts…. He pushes them away by uttering a prayer for Athena’s guidance, and keeps his eyes open for signs of the giant bird.

The Expedition Stage 1: Getting There pt 10
------Everyone---------
Spider's immediate protest earned him some grins in return.  The men gathered up their gear, and headed towards the ice cliff.

"See ya, Bossman - you're one of the good ones.  If I don't come back, you'll have to come get me,"  Thorne told Ben and Fritz.  "Bruno, Stay.  Precious, Stay," Thorne said to the two animals, and set off towards the ice cliff.  Bruno laid down in the snow in a huff, and Precious clambered on top of his shoulders to curl up.

Thorne, Spider and Jack hiked up the ice shelf towards the cliff where the supply drop was placed, the orange flags waving in the stiff wind.  Closer, it looked like several wooden crates gathered in a rope net, and a parachute was spread out across the ice, fortunately flat.  The ice was sheer, a climb of about seventy feet, and there was a faint grinding sound coming from the glacier.  Spider looked at their gear, checking the ice axes, rope and pitons.  Jack made the first ascent, with Spider as the belaying weight, then Spider climbed up, and both of them assisted Thorne.

Thorne waved enthusiastically at the dogsleds from the top of the cliff, getting a wave back from both Ben and Fritz.   "What a view !"  He said, and fished out his camera to take a picture.   The more practical agents looked at the crates, most oddly sized, which were marked with "DOD Shipment, Authorized Personnel Only, BPRD office supplies."  They could see for a good distance; a wave of clouds was rippling in from the East, obscuring the horizon, and the mountains were rising to the South.  They were still far away from their target.

Spider applied an ice axe to one of the crates, wrenching it open.  What was inside was a surprise indeed.  Packed in straw was a row of strange-looking ice axes - made of a metal that was very lightweight, and covered in some kind of coating that was easy to grip.  The handles were not wood, but the same metal substance, oddly curved, and felt warm to the touch.   The next box held tough metal piton clamps that would fit over their mukluks with  fabric straps that were durable as new leather, but much lighter in weight.  The third box had more boxes inside it, of some waxed-paper wrapped food cakes marked Emergency Rations, a letter in a sealed envelope marked for 'Ben Weintraub or the current Expedition Leader', a bunch of greenish sticks of some celluloid-like material, some coils of rope in an unknown fiber but of very good quality, lightweight and strong.  Also in there was a strange case made of some kind of bakelite plastic, labelled 'Oxygen System' and another marked "Radio Tracker'.  The long thin crate held three pairs of skis and ski poles, made of some kind of lightweight material that was not wood.  The last crate was doubly-padded, and labelled, "High Energy Explosives" in about five languages, English, German, French, and two Asian scripts.  Another letter was taped to it with strange silver tape, marking it "Fritz.  Mit liebe, Fritz."  Lastly, there was a tin of chocolate chip cookies from Edith with a little note telling them she missed them all very much.   Thorne took a couple more pictures.  "How do we get all this down from here ?"  he then asked.

They began to lower the crates down, using the net and the ropes.  Braced on the fancy skis, the crates moved cleanly over the ice and snow.  They were able to drag the crates along easily enough with tow ropes; and to replace their current gear with this new stuff would lighten the load in the sleds.  Spider tested out one of the new ice axes and nearly pitched his old one away right then and there; the new one was perfect.

Ben accepted the letter addressed to himself and began reading aloud.

"Dear Boss,
I trust you will know what to do with this equipment that I made Mr. Ellison deliver to coordinates given to me by your consultant Mr. Macey.  We are managing at the office well enough and hope you are doing well.  Instructions for the new equipment are enclosed in their respective boxes.  Deleas omnia antequam redeas.  Mr. Macey sends his regards to Mr. Mallory and begs his indulgence.   We await your safe return.
Warmly,
Edith."

"My handwriting," Fritz said, looking at the letter he had.  It was a series of instructions, in German, and in Fritz's neat handwriting, with diagrammes.  The small box had what looked like fuses in one case, and the other, grey claylike bricks of something marked 'C4'.  He looked at the clay, then the letter, and back again.
"Macey brought it from the future.  All of this stuff, it's from the future."  Ben said, gesturing at the crates and their bounty.
"Mmmm, cookies," Thorne said, munching.  "If we're going to steal stuff from a civilisation that's advanced, to quote you, Boss; what difference does it make if we use equipment that's advanced, to do it ?"
Ben gave that a moment of thought, then shrugged.   "So long as we don't keep the new stuff, we may as well use it.  Spider, Luke Macey is - or will be, your employee, so it's up to you what to do with him.  I'm giving up on that one."
"Shame he couldn't give us the racing news or some good stock tips," Thorne said, passing the tin of cookies over and surveying the nearest sled, to determine what to throw out to make room for the new stuff.

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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next hour of game time, by Saturday 2 April, next post is Sunday.
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Spider frowned and muttered, "I bloody hate this time travel nonsense.  It doesn't even make the paperwork easier. If anything, it generates more." He sighs, then once again turns to the practical side of things.  "Right.  For each item we can replace, we drop an older, heavier one.  And anything that makes it all the way back from the expedition, we might consider dropping into a deep part of the ocean on our way back."  He sees Fritz eying the malleable explosives.  "But maybe not everything."  He ate a cookie as he began sorting through old and new equipment.  "Then if we've time, we should press on.  We're still quite a ways off from our final destination."

Jack is quite excited to go climbing, especially as it is a nice break from the monotony of the sledding. He is even happier that it goes well!
When he sees the gear from the future, he remarks, “Ah, of course.“ He looks over the green celluloid-like sticks to see if they are food, fuel, or more explosives. He of course agrees with Spider that they should replace their gear. “We can stash the old stuff in the crates and mark it, in case we should need it later.” He also agrees about tossing the future gear in deep water once they’re through with it, though it pains him a bit.
He happily eats a cookie or two, thanking Edith out loud. Later, when there is more time, he will certainly familiarize himself with the oxygen and radio tracker units.

Expedition Part 1: Getting There pt 11

-------Everyone---------
The day had been long, and it was close to ten o'clock at 'night' when the agents finally had settled into a temporary campsite, far enough from the glacier to be considered safe.  The shipment of equipment that was obviously technology from the future was considered and looked over carefully and the cookies were shared out.  Edith's sublime sugary treats were quite welcome.  The climbers felt tired, but the new gear they had brought back was interesting indeed.

Spider and Thorne happily set to chucking aside heavier equipment to replace it with the lighter 'new' stuff.  "Gotta catch this Macey fellow and have a word or two with him with many thanks," the Southerner said, as he surveyed one of the new ice axes.  "Seems like a man looking out for our best interests."

"This is for Nolan," said Fritz, having opened the "Oxygen System" box and carefully reading the instructions.  "It is for treating altitude sickness, and will not be in danger of explosion with flame."  He turned the next page and referred to the machine again.
Jack, looking over his shoulder, could see how the machine worked; quite simply, it concentrated oxygen and supplied it through tubing into a human's nasal passages, or into a mask that could be strapped onto a face.  It weighed less than three pounds and would not run out of power, as far as he could tell.  In short order the machine was powered up and applied to the somnolent rookie agent, in hopes of his recovery.

"Now, how would we figure out what kind of metal this is ?"  Thorne asked about the axe, the gleam of money in his eyes.
"We have to get rid of it, Thorne, that's what the Latin meant."  Ben was looking over the Radio Tracker.  "This is already set with the location of the Carstairs Two.  And there's a small thing that we can place to mark another location.  And this little thing will work - for six months."  He gave the directions to Jack once Nolan was hooked up to oxygen, and the tiny device had better range, clearer imaging, than anything he had ever seen before, beating out the radiovision demonstration they'd seen recently.   "So we mark where we enter the City, to find our way back out, and then find our way back to the ship.  And....look.  It can tell us our location right now.  So no more guess work.  It shows the South Pole clearly."
"Don't call me, Mr. Shackleton, I know where I am," Thorne said, with a laugh, as he set the new ice axe into his pack.
"He survived," Ben said quietly, giving Thorne a sharp look.
"He got lost too.  We KNOW Fritz survives, because he wrote a letter to himself.  So we have a damn good chance now."  Thorne replied, unabashed.  "So then, I'll take this watch, with Precious and Bruno.  Then one of you can look at the snow."  He sauntered out with Precious following, and was heard calling to Bruno.

Jack looked at the long bright green sticks and saw the directions printed on one end.  "Bend and shake, 12 hours"  They seemed to be some kind of light-emitting stick, disposable and lightweight.   Clearly their mysterious consultant had some kind of knowledge that they'd need certain items.   Fritz packed the High Energy Explosives away with a great deal of caution, and went over the directions again, with one of the more injured dogs sharing his cot, sleeping at the end. Five minutes later both the Husky and the German were snoring.

"Hey, hey, look at this !"  Thorne was heard to yell, about one o'clock in the morning.  Bruno was growling and Precious was yelping, which soon set off the rest of the sled dogs.  The light had faded down to a glimmer, the sun so low in the sky, and there was red and yellow light sparking on the tops of the mountains to the South.  There was a kind of pattern to it, but not an easy one to figure out.
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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few hours of game time, by Saturday, 9 April, next post on Sunday.
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Spider had been planning on taking the second shift, so he stepped out into the cold to see what had attracted Thorne's attention.  He jotted down some notes on the pattern, hoping his study of mathematics while learning physics might help him clean some information.  Or determining if the lights were simply signals from one place to another.

At Thorne’s shout, Jack’s eyes snap open and he leaps up, pulling pants and boots on like a fireman, then throws on his parka. He rushes out brandishing a flare pistol, only to stop short when he sees Thorne staring at the strange lights. He sheepishly holsters the flare gun while watching the lights himself, looking for patterns.
     “Can you see anything more with binoculars?” he asks. “Did that just start, or was it there before and we can only see it now that the sun is low?” He tries silently counting time between the flashes, looking for mathematical patterns — squares, cubes, Golden Ratio, digits of pi or e, Fibonacci sequence, etc. He asks Fritz or Ben to try to pinpoint the lights on their maps. If nothing comes of all this after a half hour, Jack will check the skies for birds,  relieve himself, and climb back into his bed.