[D20 CoC] Beyond the Mountains of Madness Campaign - Prologue

Beacons of light swung across the roadway, chasing shadows from hotel exterior, as a black automobile with “PD” lettered on its side skidded to the curb. Before it had even stopped, the doors swung open and two patrolmen leapt from its interior and ran up to the front doors of the Amherst Hotel. The doorman, hands shaking, fumbled with his keys then recovered and managed to unlock the door. The two police hustled through the lobby to the front desk area where they met with the manager on duty.

After a brief exchange with the manager, one policemen nodded and moved quickly in the direction of the Amherst Ballroom; the other policeman stayed with the manager, discussing the night’s events, hastily scribbling notes.

Minutes passed.

Brightness and Blindness

Suddenly, flashes of bright light strobed the lobby interior, blinding the doorman who belatedly covered his eyes in response and leaving ghostly trails in your own field of vision.

OOC - Anyone remaining in the lobby should tell me their actions.

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Job (the tortured one).

Vittorio makes his way to his room shortly after he notices Paco has left. No need for an old man here, he reasons. I'll just be in the way. He takes the stairs rather than wait for the crowded elevator, and is breathing rather hard by the time he reaches the room. Taking a moment to collect his breath in the hallway and wipe his last handkerchief over his brow, he opens the door to find Paco kneeling in prayer.

"Excusa, señor. I did not mean to interrupt." He continues into the room, closing the door quietly behind him, then walks straight to the wash room, running the water until it reaches a warm temprature and splashing it over his face. He pours himself a glass of water and sits in the bathroom with the door closed until he hears Paco finish, drinking the entire glass in one long swallow. When the room goes quiet, he carefully counts off two minutes with his watch then enters the bedroom.

"If these sort of things keep happening, señor, we may need to take a priest with us to the frozen wastes!" His smile is weak, though, and he collapses into a chair wearily.

"I did not witness the event, thanks be to God, but I saw the aftermath, of course. I pray that I never have to witness such an event again." He crunches up his face in concentration. "Strange that the man would choose such a way to die. Suicide is normally a private event, unless a man wishes to be stopped or wants to make a statement, no? What did he mean to tell us?" His eyes meet Paco's for a moment, and he quickly realizes this may not be the best time to speak. "I apologize, señor. These matters are best not spoken of right now."

I can see clearly now...

Eyes blinking furiously to adjust to the unexpected glaring light, Camille growled in exhasperation and squinted around the room, one hand held protectively in front of her eyes. Apparently she hadn't been the only one flash-blinded either; the bellman was muttering words under his breath in English that Camilly highly suspected were impolite, and the few people left in the main lobbey were yelling and doing various half-blind things she wasn't paying attention to regardless.

Getting up from her chair near the desk, Camille carefully made her way towards the main doors, where she suspected the light had come from, palming a sharpened pencil from the desk along the way. Holding it point downwards, pencils could be almost-passable weapons if the situation called for it. (And the near-riot in the ballroom made the situation somehow need it. On another note, she had seemed to need nonlethal weapons a lot tonight...) If only these ridiculous black streaks obscuring her vision would go away. She hated being flash blinded.

Taokan said:

...the few people left in the main lobby were yelling and doing various half-blind things she wasn't paying attention to regardless.

Getting up from her chair near the desk, Camille carefully made her way towards the main doors, where she suspected the light had come from...

Click to expand...

The policeman at the lobby desk charged past Camille to the doors and grabbed the keys from the blinking doorman’s hand. He unlocked the door, dashed outside and angrily confronted two individuals in rumpled suits who could be seen manipulating cameras. The officer shouted and gestured for them to move away, but the cameramen had just finished replacing their flashbulbs and responded by backing up and immediately snapping wonderful pictures of a redfaced, boiling-mad, screaming representative of New York City's Police Department.

At that point, two other policemen raced into view from down the street and clashed with the cameramen, trying to grab their equipment, but the policemen appeared winded from their run and the cameramen easily avoided their attempts. The officer from the hotel lobby shouted again at the cameramen while drawing forth a set of handcuffs from his belt, and this time the cameramen held up their hands while backing up, smiling, and beginning to walk away down the street.

The two newly-arrived policemen both leaned over, hands on knees, openmouthed and breathing heavily, while the officer from the lobby conferred with them at the curb for a minute, then turned to reenter the hotel. One officer accompanied him while the other remained behind to guard the front entrance.

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Job (the tortured one).

The Force

Having taken care of the pesky cameramen, the two policeman walked back through the entrance and across the lobby to resume discussions with the manager. Some minutes later, the shrieking of another siren arose, announcing the approach of additional emergency personnel. Eventually a large, black, open-bed truck loaded with a dozen policemen carrying rifles pulled up to the front of the Amherst Hotel. All of the police quickly jumped from their vehicle. Four policemen split off from the main group, two walking in one direction up the street and two in the opposite direction; the remainder of the group entered the lobby and gathered at the front desk for their briefing.

After receiving instructions in the hotel, a number of policemen moved towards the Ballroom and others soon departed to begin patrolling the maze of corridors, ostensibly seeking clues or persons of interest. Still others remained behind examining lists and floor plans.

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Job (the tortured one).

“...Amen.”

Paco remains on his knees beside the bed for a moment, the rises and returns the rosary to his trunk. Pulling out clean clothes, he lays them out on his bed as the Italian engineer – Liuzzi – leaves the bathroom and takes a seat. Paco listens to his fellow explorer wearily. At the Italian’s apology he shakes his head slightly.

“No, no need to apologize, señor,” the mountaineer replies as he sits on the end of his bed to remove his shoes and socks. “I do not understand this,” he continues, pensive. “I have seen men die before, but this is...” He stops and runs his fingers through his hair. A bit of what was once Lawrence’s parietal lobe falls onto his pant leg.

“No! No! You...don't...UNDERSTAND!” The words echo in his mind.

Paco takes a deep breath. “The...man...and Señor Starkweather...they knew each other.” He wants to say more, but he sees blood on his hands, in the skin around his nails and the creases in his knuckles. “Señor, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I would like to take a bath.” The Chilean nods to the engineer and pulls a bathrobe from the closet, and walks into the bathroom.

Hot water fills the tub as Paco first scrubs himself at the sink, digging the washcloth into the skin of his hands, his face. He wipes the mirror every few seconds as the condensation fogs its glass surface. The tub full, he strips down and gingerly lowers himself in the steaming water. He ignores the soap and washcloth for a moment, letting the heat soak into his limbs. Even as the water turns his skin pink, however, there is a chill in his heart that the bathwater cannot reach. And again Paco hears the man’s voice.

“You're going to die down there. All of you.”

The Investigation Begins

Approximately 10 minutes later, a nondescript grey car quietly arrived at the Amherst Hotel and slowly eased up to park alongside the emergency vehicle. The doors opened and out climbed a trim, elderly policeman in full uniform and a younger man in a hat and rumpled overcoat. Both men walked into hotel, up to the lobby desk, and began to engage in discussions with the hotel manager and policemen.

After a few minutes, the elderly policeman made a few phone calls at the desk while the younger man headed towards the Ballroom.

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Job (the tortured one).

Reinforcements

Over the span of a half hour, another emergency poice truck arrived carrying a dozen additional armed officers as well as two patrol car units, two motorcycle units, and a Cadillac ambulance.

Some hotel staff members could be heard mumbling amongst themselves that it was beginning to look like a police convention.

Three Summonings

An anxious hour passes, then three separate individuals experience the same event.

A sharp rap on your hotel room door intrudes on your thoughts, followed by a forceful voice commanding "This is the police. Please open up."

Three hotel room doors are all opened to the full extent of their chain locks and each occupant peers out to see a dark blue-suited, very serious policeman peering in.

"Hello, Mr. LeBlanc?" ... "Hello, Mr. Guerini?" ... "Hello, Ms. Bardier?"

"Would you come with me please? Our Detective has a few questions that he'd like to ask you."

He waits, stone-faced and stone still, at your door while you collect yourself.

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Job (the tortured one).