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[D20 CoC] Beyond the Mountains of Madness Campaign - Prologue
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<blockquote data-quote="eabha" data-source="post: 2409025" data-attributes="member: 23738"><p>The letter was waiting for her when she arrived back at her office at midday. For weeks she had thought of little else, so eager was she to escape the world of operating rooms and equally sterile offices and lecture halls. She ripped the envelope open and began to read, her expression changing almost immediately from one of excitement to one of disappointment and then anger.</p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Condescending, ignorant bastard!</em> Annie thought, dropping the letter to her desk in disgust. <em>Chaperone, indeed! Gentle sex!</em></p><p></p><p>With a sigh of resignation, she leaned back in her chair and looked at the cramped office she had kept at the university for the last several years. It was the worst office in the department and yet she'd had to fight for even <em>that</em> much. All because she was a woman. She'd be damned if she would keep fighting the same battles her entire life.</p><p></p><p><em>“I congratulate you, if I may, in having the courage to beg of me the chance to visit an area of such inhospitable and comfortless peril…”</em></p><p></p><p>Snatching the letter off her desk, Annie darted out the door and headed to the secretary's office down the hall.</p><p></p><p>“Carol, do you have a moment?” she asked, breathlessly.</p><p></p><p>The frumpy middle-aged woman behind the desk looked up through thick, round spectacles. “A moment? For what?”</p><p></p><p>“A letter. I need to dictate a letter. It must be sent immediately.”</p><p></p><p>Carol pursed her lips and shook her head as if wondering what the rush could be, but stopped what she was doing to place a sheet of paper into her typewriter.</p><p></p><p>“To whom?”</p><p></p><p>“Mr. James Starkweather. Here's his address.” She passed the letter to Carol who dutifully copied out the relevant information.</p><p></p><p>Annie began to dictate, all the while pacing back and forth in front of Carol's desk.</p><p></p><p>“Dear Mr. Starkweather:</p><p></p><p>“I am writing to express my disappointment with your decision to exclude me from your expedition. Perhaps I did not adequately outline for you my qualifications.</p><p></p><p>“For example, my letter may have lead you to believe that I spent my youth frolicking across the Canadian shield and arctic tundra – in a tidy pinafore and with ribbons in my hair – for the amusement of my parents. I did not. In fact, I was taught from an early age to hunt and fish, to climb and ski, and to respect the many perils of the North while defending myself against them as well as any human can.</p><p></p><p>“In university, I excelled in sport as well as academics. I participated in archery, tennis, track and field, and downhill and cross-country skiing and won several awards for my accomplishments in athletics.</p><p></p><p>“However, these accomplishments – as well as my medical ones – are beside the point, especially as I suspect the reason you have rejected my application has nothing to do with my credentials or skills. You seem to be of the opinion that my being a woman – and therefore inherently frail and fragile – is a liability to your expedition. </p><p></p><p>“Have you ever been in a modern surgery, Mr. Starkweather? Have you ever looked at a man cut open before you, his organs in your hands? His very <em>life</em> in your hands? Do you imagine it to be a place for the dainty or weak? </p><p></p><p>“You suggest that I would be a mere sightseer on your expedition, but I assure you I would not. I am not used to a life of comfort. Rather, I am accustomed to 72-hour shifts on little or no rest and nutrition, up to my neck in gore and blood – ”</p><p></p><p>Annie stopped herself when she saw the look of alarm on the secretary’s face. She realized that her voice had been rising in pitch and volume and that she was now fairly close to shouting.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry Carol,” she apologized, bringing one hand up to her forehead. “You’re absolutely right. This is inappropriate.”</p><p></p><p>From the doorway both women heard the sound of barely contained laughter and turned to see a couple of faculty members who had stopped to listen. Annie felt her rage grow as her colleagues chuckled.</p><p></p><p>“I’m sure you all find this <em>quite</em> amusing,” she said sharply, tearing the sheet from Carol's typewriter and striding past them back to her office.</p><p></p><p>There, she shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard and trying to recover her thoughts. She shredded the letter she had been dictating and let the pieces fall to the floor. It was no good getting defensive. It would only prove his point. In the back of her mind she could hear her mother imploring her to act like a lady.</p><p></p><p>“You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar,” she'd always said.</p><p></p><p><em>Well, you are mistaken, Mother. You catch more flies with sh**. And Mr. Starkweather might just be about to get some.</em></p><p></p><p>When she was certain she was calm, Annie once again left her office and returned to Carol, who looked at her warily.</p><p></p><p>“Carol, see what you can do about booking me a train ticket to New York City.”</p><p></p><p>“For when?” the secretary asked, her eyes narrowing.</p><p></p><p>“As soon as possible.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="eabha, post: 2409025, member: 23738"] The letter was waiting for her when she arrived back at her office at midday. For weeks she had thought of little else, so eager was she to escape the world of operating rooms and equally sterile offices and lecture halls. She ripped the envelope open and began to read, her expression changing almost immediately from one of excitement to one of disappointment and then anger. [I]Condescending, ignorant bastard![/I] Annie thought, dropping the letter to her desk in disgust. [I]Chaperone, indeed! Gentle sex![/I] With a sigh of resignation, she leaned back in her chair and looked at the cramped office she had kept at the university for the last several years. It was the worst office in the department and yet she'd had to fight for even [I]that[/I] much. All because she was a woman. She'd be damned if she would keep fighting the same battles her entire life. [I]“I congratulate you, if I may, in having the courage to beg of me the chance to visit an area of such inhospitable and comfortless peril…”[/I] Snatching the letter off her desk, Annie darted out the door and headed to the secretary's office down the hall. “Carol, do you have a moment?” she asked, breathlessly. The frumpy middle-aged woman behind the desk looked up through thick, round spectacles. “A moment? For what?” “A letter. I need to dictate a letter. It must be sent immediately.” Carol pursed her lips and shook her head as if wondering what the rush could be, but stopped what she was doing to place a sheet of paper into her typewriter. “To whom?” “Mr. James Starkweather. Here's his address.” She passed the letter to Carol who dutifully copied out the relevant information. Annie began to dictate, all the while pacing back and forth in front of Carol's desk. “Dear Mr. Starkweather: “I am writing to express my disappointment with your decision to exclude me from your expedition. Perhaps I did not adequately outline for you my qualifications. “For example, my letter may have lead you to believe that I spent my youth frolicking across the Canadian shield and arctic tundra – in a tidy pinafore and with ribbons in my hair – for the amusement of my parents. I did not. In fact, I was taught from an early age to hunt and fish, to climb and ski, and to respect the many perils of the North while defending myself against them as well as any human can. “In university, I excelled in sport as well as academics. I participated in archery, tennis, track and field, and downhill and cross-country skiing and won several awards for my accomplishments in athletics. “However, these accomplishments – as well as my medical ones – are beside the point, especially as I suspect the reason you have rejected my application has nothing to do with my credentials or skills. You seem to be of the opinion that my being a woman – and therefore inherently frail and fragile – is a liability to your expedition. “Have you ever been in a modern surgery, Mr. Starkweather? Have you ever looked at a man cut open before you, his organs in your hands? His very [I]life[/I] in your hands? Do you imagine it to be a place for the dainty or weak? “You suggest that I would be a mere sightseer on your expedition, but I assure you I would not. I am not used to a life of comfort. Rather, I am accustomed to 72-hour shifts on little or no rest and nutrition, up to my neck in gore and blood – ” Annie stopped herself when she saw the look of alarm on the secretary’s face. She realized that her voice had been rising in pitch and volume and that she was now fairly close to shouting. “Oh, I’m sorry Carol,” she apologized, bringing one hand up to her forehead. “You’re absolutely right. This is inappropriate.” From the doorway both women heard the sound of barely contained laughter and turned to see a couple of faculty members who had stopped to listen. Annie felt her rage grow as her colleagues chuckled. “I’m sure you all find this [I]quite[/I] amusing,” she said sharply, tearing the sheet from Carol's typewriter and striding past them back to her office. There, she shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard and trying to recover her thoughts. She shredded the letter she had been dictating and let the pieces fall to the floor. It was no good getting defensive. It would only prove his point. In the back of her mind she could hear her mother imploring her to act like a lady. “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar,” she'd always said. [I]Well, you are mistaken, Mother. You catch more flies with sh**. And Mr. Starkweather might just be about to get some.[/I] When she was certain she was calm, Annie once again left her office and returned to Carol, who looked at her warily. “Carol, see what you can do about booking me a train ticket to New York City.” “For when?” the secretary asked, her eyes narrowing. “As soon as possible.” [/QUOTE]
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