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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 6041397" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Silent Scream: Part 5 – The Cellar</strong></p><p></p><p>Windthrope Manor’s cellar looked as if it were actually built on a much older cellar, judging from the age of the bricks. There were re two smaller rooms: a wine cellar and more storage space. The coal furnace, coal bin, and petrol-fueled electrical generators were located down there. </p><p></p><p>Down below, Jim-Bean and Hammer moved quietly past the old stone walls and wooden beams which supported the main floor above. In front of them stood an old door which led to another section of the cellar. Before Jim-Bean could touch the door, it swung open slowly with a moan. </p><p></p><p>Racks of dusty wine bottles lined the walls of the cool, dry room. Condensation from water pipes above turned the cellar into an echo chamber as drips fell into shallow pools on the dirt floor below. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean swept his light to another corner and revealed several items atop a small table. There was a reel-to-reel tape recorder, an old film projector, a wind up record player, a shotgun, and a box of rifle shells.</p><p></p><p>Hammer turned the recorder on. </p><p></p><p>“My name is Douglas Winthrope,” began the voice, warped with age and the dying battery of the recorder. “I am a parapsychologist working for the British Museum...I am recording this entry from Windthrope Manor, which I inherited from my father. Here, I am staying with my wife for a few weeks so that I may continue my research undisturbed. Since May, a group of associate professors and myself have been excavating the ruins of Glaaki. I believe I have made an important find in that area, and thus the reason for this log. With it, I can keep an accurate record of translations from my latest find; the last of twelve, the others still lost, volumes of the worshippers of Glaaki. “</p><p></p><p>“Basically, it is a book dealing with the Great Old Ones entitled ‘The Revelations of Glaaki.’ It is bound in human flesh, and inked with blood of the deceased...This particular volume deals with Y’golonac and those scampering, tattered minions who serve him.”</p><p></p><p>“The first few pages that I have translated warn that Y’golonac is dangerous, ever-present, and exists primarily through this book. As legend has it, only the sacred high priests of Glaaki could possess these books, for they alone could properly control Y’golonac. It is only through the act of reciting the resurrection passage that Y’golonac would be able to possess the living. When his name is spoken or read he comes forth to be worshipped or to feed and take on the shape and soul of those he feeds upon. For those who read of evil and search for its form within their minds call forth evil, and so may Y’golonac return to walk among men and await that time when the earth is cleared off…”</p><p></p><p>Outside, clouds rolled in from the east, thunder boomed in the distance, and as the wind picked up, it began to rain.</p><p></p><p>“…and Cthulhu rises from his tomb among the weeds and Glaaki thrusts open the crystal trapdoor…”</p><p></p><p>The winds howled, and blackbirds flew from their nests outside, screaming.</p><p></p><p>“…the brood of Eihort are born into daylight, Shub-Niggurath strides forth to smash the Moon-Lens…”</p><p></p><p>A bolt of lightning struck very near the manor and its thunder crash was deafening.</p><p></p><p>“…Byatis bursts forth from his prison, and Daoloth tears away illusion to expose the reality concealed behind!”</p><p></p><p>“Shut that off!” shouted Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>Hammer struggled with it. The button was stuck on PLAY. He hit another button and the audio accelerated with a shriek, then played again:</p><p></p><p>“March 12th. Camille came after me and almost murdered me. My own wife. At first I thought it was a physical disorder because of what had happened to her hands, but I was only fooling myself. I knew what it was.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer hit another button. More shrieking as it advanced, then resumed playing. </p><p></p><p>“Three days have passed since that thing has been down there. I was hoping to weaken it without food or water. Nothing worked. I could not bring myself to dismember her myself. But I buried her. I…buried her…in the cellar. God help me, I walled her up in the fruit cellar.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer just tossed the recording against the wall. It snapped apart, the voice slowing to a guttural moan before finally stopping. </p><p></p><p>“Finally,” muttered Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>Just the power flicked on. The record player started playing 1920s-like jazz and the movie projector burst to life, even though there was no film. </p><p></p><p>“At least Archive got the power running,” said Hammer, pistols at the ready. </p><p></p><p>The screen flickered a sickly pale yellow on the opposite wall. </p><p></p><p>“Look at this.” Jim-Bean edged into the projector’s light. “The wall has cracks here. Almost as if…”</p><p></p><p>“It was removed and replaced,” said Hammer. </p><p></p><p>With a shove, Jim-Bean tugged hard on the brick. The entire wall fell forward. It would have taken incredible strength to pick it up and move it. </p><p></p><p>Inside, the walls were soiled and old. In the middle of the room stood a metal bedstead covered by an old and worn mattress. A small night table had an ancient dagger lying next to it. A shower of blood speckled the room, and a pool of the red fluid stained the center of the mattress.</p><p></p><p>“Oh God,” whispered Hammer. “This is where…”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean picked up the dagger. It was made of human bone. “This is weird.”</p><p></p><p>“THAT’S the only weird thing you noticed in this room?” asked Hammer, trying to not look at the blood. </p><p></p><p>Before he could say more a greenish-white arm, silhouetted by the projector, burst out of the floor.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 6041397, member: 3285"] [b]Silent Scream: Part 5 – The Cellar[/b] Windthrope Manor’s cellar looked as if it were actually built on a much older cellar, judging from the age of the bricks. There were re two smaller rooms: a wine cellar and more storage space. The coal furnace, coal bin, and petrol-fueled electrical generators were located down there. Down below, Jim-Bean and Hammer moved quietly past the old stone walls and wooden beams which supported the main floor above. In front of them stood an old door which led to another section of the cellar. Before Jim-Bean could touch the door, it swung open slowly with a moan. Racks of dusty wine bottles lined the walls of the cool, dry room. Condensation from water pipes above turned the cellar into an echo chamber as drips fell into shallow pools on the dirt floor below. Jim-Bean swept his light to another corner and revealed several items atop a small table. There was a reel-to-reel tape recorder, an old film projector, a wind up record player, a shotgun, and a box of rifle shells. Hammer turned the recorder on. “My name is Douglas Winthrope,” began the voice, warped with age and the dying battery of the recorder. “I am a parapsychologist working for the British Museum...I am recording this entry from Windthrope Manor, which I inherited from my father. Here, I am staying with my wife for a few weeks so that I may continue my research undisturbed. Since May, a group of associate professors and myself have been excavating the ruins of Glaaki. I believe I have made an important find in that area, and thus the reason for this log. With it, I can keep an accurate record of translations from my latest find; the last of twelve, the others still lost, volumes of the worshippers of Glaaki. “ “Basically, it is a book dealing with the Great Old Ones entitled ‘The Revelations of Glaaki.’ It is bound in human flesh, and inked with blood of the deceased...This particular volume deals with Y’golonac and those scampering, tattered minions who serve him.” “The first few pages that I have translated warn that Y’golonac is dangerous, ever-present, and exists primarily through this book. As legend has it, only the sacred high priests of Glaaki could possess these books, for they alone could properly control Y’golonac. It is only through the act of reciting the resurrection passage that Y’golonac would be able to possess the living. When his name is spoken or read he comes forth to be worshipped or to feed and take on the shape and soul of those he feeds upon. For those who read of evil and search for its form within their minds call forth evil, and so may Y’golonac return to walk among men and await that time when the earth is cleared off…” Outside, clouds rolled in from the east, thunder boomed in the distance, and as the wind picked up, it began to rain. “…and Cthulhu rises from his tomb among the weeds and Glaaki thrusts open the crystal trapdoor…” The winds howled, and blackbirds flew from their nests outside, screaming. “…the brood of Eihort are born into daylight, Shub-Niggurath strides forth to smash the Moon-Lens…” A bolt of lightning struck very near the manor and its thunder crash was deafening. “…Byatis bursts forth from his prison, and Daoloth tears away illusion to expose the reality concealed behind!” “Shut that off!” shouted Jim-Bean. Hammer struggled with it. The button was stuck on PLAY. He hit another button and the audio accelerated with a shriek, then played again: “March 12th. Camille came after me and almost murdered me. My own wife. At first I thought it was a physical disorder because of what had happened to her hands, but I was only fooling myself. I knew what it was.” Hammer hit another button. More shrieking as it advanced, then resumed playing. “Three days have passed since that thing has been down there. I was hoping to weaken it without food or water. Nothing worked. I could not bring myself to dismember her myself. But I buried her. I…buried her…in the cellar. God help me, I walled her up in the fruit cellar.” Hammer just tossed the recording against the wall. It snapped apart, the voice slowing to a guttural moan before finally stopping. “Finally,” muttered Jim-Bean. Just the power flicked on. The record player started playing 1920s-like jazz and the movie projector burst to life, even though there was no film. “At least Archive got the power running,” said Hammer, pistols at the ready. The screen flickered a sickly pale yellow on the opposite wall. “Look at this.” Jim-Bean edged into the projector’s light. “The wall has cracks here. Almost as if…” “It was removed and replaced,” said Hammer. With a shove, Jim-Bean tugged hard on the brick. The entire wall fell forward. It would have taken incredible strength to pick it up and move it. Inside, the walls were soiled and old. In the middle of the room stood a metal bedstead covered by an old and worn mattress. A small night table had an ancient dagger lying next to it. A shower of blood speckled the room, and a pool of the red fluid stained the center of the mattress. “Oh God,” whispered Hammer. “This is where…” Jim-Bean picked up the dagger. It was made of human bone. “This is weird.” “THAT’S the only weird thing you noticed in this room?” asked Hammer, trying to not look at the blood. Before he could say more a greenish-white arm, silhouetted by the projector, burst out of the floor. [/QUOTE]
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