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Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 6285181" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Chapter 68: Blessed Be</strong></p><p></p><p>This story hour is from "Blessed Be" by Gary Sumpter. You can read more about Delta Green at <a href="http://www.delta-green.com" target="_blank">http://www.delta-green.com</a>. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!</p><p></p><p>Our cast of characters includes:</p><p></p><p>• Game Master: Michael Tresca (<a href="http://michael.tresca.net" target="_blank">http://michael.tresca.net</a>)</p><p>• Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia</p><p>• Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz (<a href="http://jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com" target="_blank">http://jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com</a>)</p><p>• Kurtis “Hammer” Grange (Fast/Dedicated Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster</p><p></p><p>There are two scenarios where Goatswood and Less Pleasant Places seems to gets its bad rap: Gothic and Blessed Be. Gothic worked fine in my campaign because I established vampires previously and I didn't work very hard to make the two lovers sympathetic, and instead had them in the employ of Count Nadasdy. But Blessed Be is simply a deathtrap.</p><p></p><p>Blessed Be is inspired by The Wicker Man (the original, not the remake). I'm not fond of the Wicker Man – it's an outdated artifact of its time and a very narrow view of religion – but it's considered a critical horror film, so it's no surprise to find a scenario inspired by it in this collection. I modified the quotes by the lead cultist to match the original script.</p><p></p><p>The scenario lures the investigators in with Jenkins as bait, which implies there's some sort of collusion between the shan and Shub-Niggurath. Once the investigators are trapped by hundreds of angry villagers and an avatar of Shub-Niggurath, there's very few ways out. </p><p></p><p>But I liked the idea of taking on an entire village of maniacs, action horror style, so I put Jenkins in genuine danger and had the agents arrive at the climax. Then I let all hell break loose. </p><p></p><p>This scenario combines the shan presence in Goatwood with the shan presence in Delta Green. The two aren't entirely compatible so I had to mess with a few elements to make it fit, but overall I was pleased with the results. </p><p></p><p>Defining Moment: Jim-Bean comes up with a desperate plan to save Jenkins. </p><p></p><p>Relevant Media</p><p> Ramsey Campbell's Goatswood and Less Pleasant Places: <a href="http://rpg.drivethrustuff.com/product_info.php?products_id=24385&it=1&affiliate_id=34014" target="_blank">http://rpg.drivethrustuff.com/product_info.php?products_id=24385&it=1&affiliate_id=34014</a> </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/cthulhu.jpg" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":cth:" title="Call of Cthulhu :cth:" data-shortname=":cth:" /></p><p> </p><p>Prologue</p><p>Senses dimmed in semi-sentience,</p><p>only wheeling through this plane,</p><p>only seeing fragmented images</p><p>prematurely curtailed by the brain,</p><p>but breathing, living, knowing in some measure at least</p><p>the soul which roots the matter of both Beauty and the Beast</p><p>-Peter Hammill, “The Sleepwalkers.”</p><p> </p><p>GOATSWOOD, ENGLAND—Located about half an hour out of Brichester by train, Goatswood was one of the oldest villages in the Severn Valley. The cluster of stone buildings and thatch cottages was completely surrounded by a bleak and unwholesome woods in a sheltered valley, through which a web of twisting country lanes extended. </p><p>The village was eerily claustrophobic, a complicated labyrinth of alleyways and cul-de-sacs. Narrow streets and crowded dull-red roofs gave Goatswood the impression of archaic furtiveness; bad times had left the place with sagging roofs and cracked walls, and a certain shabby ambience. </p><p></p><p>The houses on the outskirts of the village were dirty, tired-looking affairs with steeply pitched gables. Years of indifferent maintenance ran them into dilapidation and, in some cases, ruinous dereliction. Lined with ancient oak trees and buildings of old honey-colored stone, the High Street presented a slightly brighter face, accommodating offices, department stores, public houses and even a cinema. Many of the shops specialized in antiques, old books, and local hand-crafted items.</p><p></p><p>Outside, the villagers were gathering. </p><p></p><p>“My friends, enough now!” shouted the high priest of Shub-Niggurath. “We shall all reassemble outside the town hall and then process through the village and the countryside, down to the hill, by the route which has become sacred to our rite. This year at the procession's end, as has already been proclaimed, a holy sacrifice will be offered up jointly to Nuada, our most sacred god of the Sun, and to Avellenau, the beloved goddess of our orchards, in order that we may furnish them with renewed power to quicken the growth of our crops. Hail the Queen of the May!”</p><p></p><p>“Hail the Queen of the May!” the villagers shouted back. </p><p></p><p>Dressed in colorful robes, the priest stood by the pylon and adjusts the ropes tied to the pivot; the lens and the mirror shifted, and a concentrated beam of moonlight moved up the road toward the hill. </p><p></p><p>The priest lifted up a tankard of wine. “O god of the hill, I offer you this ale as a libation, that you may bestow upon us in the year to come the rich and diverse fruits of your kingdom. Hail, god of the hills! Accept our offering!” He poured it out onto the ground. “And now, for our more dreadful sacrifice...you who command the fruit of the Earth.”</p><p></p><p>Albert Jenkins, restrained by two burly villagers, was near the center of the crowd.</p><p></p><p>When the beam of concentrated moonlight slid far enough up the side of the hill, a hush fell over the crowd. In the eerie silence, a faint rumbling could be heard – as of distant thunder. The priest turns toward Jenkins and, with a wild gesture, shouted, "We must offer to our god of the Sun and to the goddess of our orchards the most acceptable sacrifice that lies in our power. Animals are fine, but their acceptability is limited. A little child is even better, but not nearly as effective as the right kind of adult. You should be honored…you will undergo death and rebirth! You will not only have life eternal, but you will sit with the blessed among the elect. Come. It is time to keep your appointment with the Keeper of the Moon Lens.”</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, a door which occupied the whole of the hill slid open to reveal the entrance to a cavernous passage. Further back in the darkness, something massive shimmered and stirred in the refracted moonlight. </p><p></p><p>The pillar of white flesh was supported on many-jointed bony legs tipped with great circular pads. It had no arms, merely three spines which dig into the ground. But the head was the worst—formed of thick coils of white jelly, covered with water eyes, and at the center was a huge toothed beak. Those great yellow eyes peered in different directions, and all the coils twisted and jerked, sometimes transparent so that Jenkins could see into the head. </p><p></p><p>The god’s yellow eyes squinted in all directions as it moved out of the doorway, creeping forward with the grotesque paddling motion of its three great spines. The beak opened, and the thing squawked and hisseed at its worshippers. </p><p></p><p>The crowd's jubilation was interrupted by the roaring of a car's engine. The agents' Phantom skidded into the center of town. </p><p></p><p>Hammer gunned the Phantom and flipped open the triggers on either side of the steering wheel. Multi-barreled machineguns popped up out of the front of the wheel wells of the Phantom. </p><p></p><p>"Let's dance," he snarled before mashing both firing triggers on the steering wheel.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/cthulhu.jpg" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":cth:" title="Call of Cthulhu :cth:" data-shortname=":cth:" /></p><p> </p><p>Part 1 – The Keeper of the Moon Lens</p><p>The machineguns sprayed hellfire into the crowd. Seconds later the Phantom mowed through a wall of flesh, smashing cultists aside left and right. The Phantom careened to a stop, both front tires blown from cultist blades. </p><p></p><p>The agents dove out of the vehicle. The Keeper of the Moon Lens swallowed Jenkins whole, slurping him up like a butterfly licking a droplet of honey. He hung suspended in its head. It rotated on stilted legs towards the opening where it emerged.</p><p></p><p>"On it!" shouted Archive. He chanted and extended an open palm. The opening in the hill sealed over as it filled brick by brick with stone, the same trick Archive had used on the PISCES strike team.</p><p></p><p>The Keeper shrieked in rage as its exit was cut off. It whirled on the tiny gnats who dared defy it.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean fired grenades into the crowd, tossing cultists into bloody bits of body parts. The lead cultist, Burgess, chanted and a bolt of dark energy speared into Archive. He crumpled.</p><p></p><p>The Keeper stomped over to them and, skewering the Phantom with one pincered leg, tossed it. The Phantom flipped end over end before exlpoding against the blocked entrance to the mound.</p><p></p><p>Hammer fired wildly. The Keeper of the Moon Lens pinned him through the thigh with one spine. He yelped, pinned to the ground. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean levitated upwards, satchel of explosives slung over one shoulder. "Dinner's served," he shouted, spraying a burst of gunfire at the thing's head. "Hungry?"</p><p></p><p>And with a lightning-fast snap of its maw, Jim-Bean disappeared into the thing's head.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/cthulhu.jpg" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":cth:" title="Call of Cthulhu :cth:" data-shortname=":cth:" /></p><p></p><p>Part 2 – Final Escape</p><p>Jim-Bean was held inside transparent walls that pulsed and gripped him firmly, but not tightly enough to injure. </p><p></p><p>"You okay Alfred?"</p><p></p><p>Alfred, slumped against one wall inside the thing's head, nodded weakly. "Yes, sir." He pointed at the satchel. "Are you planning to use that in here, sir?"</p><p></p><p>Jim-bean unslung the satchel and set the detonators. "I'm going to put up a telekinetic barrier around us both. It should shield us from the blast. You stay behind me, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>"I can shape the charge sir, for maximum effectiveness. I worked with a bit of explosives myself during the War..."</p><p></p><p>The old codger was being far too modest about his skills. Jim-Bean knew he had been Special Forces. Despite the circumstances Jim-Bean allowed himself a quick smile. "Okay." </p><p></p><p>Alfred arranged the charge, separating out the explosives in a line. "Ready, sir."</p><p></p><p>"Here we go!" Jim-bean focused and a shimmering wall of telekinetic force went up between them and the explosives.</p><p></p><p>He pressed the detonator.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/cthulhu.jpg" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":cth:" title="Call of Cthulhu :cth:" data-shortname=":cth:" /></p><p> </p><p>Conclusion</p><p>The explosives ripped outwards in a cone shape, spattering alien gelatin miles in the air. Jim-Bean was hurled back into Alfred, who crumpled from the concussive force.</p><p></p><p>The Keeper let out a gurgling hiss as its head whipped back and forth, oozing. Jim-Bean came to his senses quickly enough to grab hold of Albert as they were hurled out of the thing's head like a catapult.</p><p></p><p>With a loud croak, it took two steps forward, one back, releasing its grip on hammer. Just as the high priest prepared a retaliatory spell against Hammer it smashed on top of him, silencing priest and god permanently. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean landed with the limp Jenkins in his arms. "Albert. Albert! Stay with me!"</p><p></p><p>Albert's eyes fluttered as he was placed on the ground. "We gave them what for, eh, sir?"</p><p></p><p>"We got them Albert." Jim-Bean sniffed. "You got them."</p><p></p><p>"Good, good." He closed his eyes and his chest shuddered. "It's been...a pleasure...serving you...sir..." He let the last of his words out with a sigh.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean leaned over the only man he loved like a father and was still for a long time. He only got up until Mrs. Jenkins ran over.</p><p></p><p>"So that's it then," she said softly.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean looked up at her. There were no words.</p><p></p><p>"Get up," she said, tear-filled eyes blazing with vengeance. "We've got killin' to do."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 6285181, member: 3285"] [b]Chapter 68: Blessed Be[/b] This story hour is from "Blessed Be" by Gary Sumpter. You can read more about Delta Green at [url]http://www.delta-green.com[/url]. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers! Our cast of characters includes: • Game Master: Michael Tresca ([url]http://michael.tresca.net[/url]) • Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia • Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz ([url]http://jeremyrobertortiz.blogspot.com[/url]) • Kurtis “Hammer” Grange (Fast/Dedicated Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster There are two scenarios where Goatswood and Less Pleasant Places seems to gets its bad rap: Gothic and Blessed Be. Gothic worked fine in my campaign because I established vampires previously and I didn't work very hard to make the two lovers sympathetic, and instead had them in the employ of Count Nadasdy. But Blessed Be is simply a deathtrap. Blessed Be is inspired by The Wicker Man (the original, not the remake). I'm not fond of the Wicker Man – it's an outdated artifact of its time and a very narrow view of religion – but it's considered a critical horror film, so it's no surprise to find a scenario inspired by it in this collection. I modified the quotes by the lead cultist to match the original script. The scenario lures the investigators in with Jenkins as bait, which implies there's some sort of collusion between the shan and Shub-Niggurath. Once the investigators are trapped by hundreds of angry villagers and an avatar of Shub-Niggurath, there's very few ways out. But I liked the idea of taking on an entire village of maniacs, action horror style, so I put Jenkins in genuine danger and had the agents arrive at the climax. Then I let all hell break loose. This scenario combines the shan presence in Goatwood with the shan presence in Delta Green. The two aren't entirely compatible so I had to mess with a few elements to make it fit, but overall I was pleased with the results. Defining Moment: Jim-Bean comes up with a desperate plan to save Jenkins. Relevant Media Ramsey Campbell's Goatswood and Less Pleasant Places: [url]http://rpg.drivethrustuff.com/product_info.php?products_id=24385&it=1&affiliate_id=34014[/url] :cth: Prologue Senses dimmed in semi-sentience, only wheeling through this plane, only seeing fragmented images prematurely curtailed by the brain, but breathing, living, knowing in some measure at least the soul which roots the matter of both Beauty and the Beast -Peter Hammill, “The Sleepwalkers.” GOATSWOOD, ENGLAND—Located about half an hour out of Brichester by train, Goatswood was one of the oldest villages in the Severn Valley. The cluster of stone buildings and thatch cottages was completely surrounded by a bleak and unwholesome woods in a sheltered valley, through which a web of twisting country lanes extended. The village was eerily claustrophobic, a complicated labyrinth of alleyways and cul-de-sacs. Narrow streets and crowded dull-red roofs gave Goatswood the impression of archaic furtiveness; bad times had left the place with sagging roofs and cracked walls, and a certain shabby ambience. The houses on the outskirts of the village were dirty, tired-looking affairs with steeply pitched gables. Years of indifferent maintenance ran them into dilapidation and, in some cases, ruinous dereliction. Lined with ancient oak trees and buildings of old honey-colored stone, the High Street presented a slightly brighter face, accommodating offices, department stores, public houses and even a cinema. Many of the shops specialized in antiques, old books, and local hand-crafted items. Outside, the villagers were gathering. “My friends, enough now!” shouted the high priest of Shub-Niggurath. “We shall all reassemble outside the town hall and then process through the village and the countryside, down to the hill, by the route which has become sacred to our rite. This year at the procession's end, as has already been proclaimed, a holy sacrifice will be offered up jointly to Nuada, our most sacred god of the Sun, and to Avellenau, the beloved goddess of our orchards, in order that we may furnish them with renewed power to quicken the growth of our crops. Hail the Queen of the May!” “Hail the Queen of the May!” the villagers shouted back. Dressed in colorful robes, the priest stood by the pylon and adjusts the ropes tied to the pivot; the lens and the mirror shifted, and a concentrated beam of moonlight moved up the road toward the hill. The priest lifted up a tankard of wine. “O god of the hill, I offer you this ale as a libation, that you may bestow upon us in the year to come the rich and diverse fruits of your kingdom. Hail, god of the hills! Accept our offering!” He poured it out onto the ground. “And now, for our more dreadful sacrifice...you who command the fruit of the Earth.” Albert Jenkins, restrained by two burly villagers, was near the center of the crowd. When the beam of concentrated moonlight slid far enough up the side of the hill, a hush fell over the crowd. In the eerie silence, a faint rumbling could be heard – as of distant thunder. The priest turns toward Jenkins and, with a wild gesture, shouted, "We must offer to our god of the Sun and to the goddess of our orchards the most acceptable sacrifice that lies in our power. Animals are fine, but their acceptability is limited. A little child is even better, but not nearly as effective as the right kind of adult. You should be honored…you will undergo death and rebirth! You will not only have life eternal, but you will sit with the blessed among the elect. Come. It is time to keep your appointment with the Keeper of the Moon Lens.” Suddenly, a door which occupied the whole of the hill slid open to reveal the entrance to a cavernous passage. Further back in the darkness, something massive shimmered and stirred in the refracted moonlight. The pillar of white flesh was supported on many-jointed bony legs tipped with great circular pads. It had no arms, merely three spines which dig into the ground. But the head was the worst—formed of thick coils of white jelly, covered with water eyes, and at the center was a huge toothed beak. Those great yellow eyes peered in different directions, and all the coils twisted and jerked, sometimes transparent so that Jenkins could see into the head. The god’s yellow eyes squinted in all directions as it moved out of the doorway, creeping forward with the grotesque paddling motion of its three great spines. The beak opened, and the thing squawked and hisseed at its worshippers. The crowd's jubilation was interrupted by the roaring of a car's engine. The agents' Phantom skidded into the center of town. Hammer gunned the Phantom and flipped open the triggers on either side of the steering wheel. Multi-barreled machineguns popped up out of the front of the wheel wells of the Phantom. "Let's dance," he snarled before mashing both firing triggers on the steering wheel. :cth: Part 1 – The Keeper of the Moon Lens The machineguns sprayed hellfire into the crowd. Seconds later the Phantom mowed through a wall of flesh, smashing cultists aside left and right. The Phantom careened to a stop, both front tires blown from cultist blades. The agents dove out of the vehicle. The Keeper of the Moon Lens swallowed Jenkins whole, slurping him up like a butterfly licking a droplet of honey. He hung suspended in its head. It rotated on stilted legs towards the opening where it emerged. "On it!" shouted Archive. He chanted and extended an open palm. The opening in the hill sealed over as it filled brick by brick with stone, the same trick Archive had used on the PISCES strike team. The Keeper shrieked in rage as its exit was cut off. It whirled on the tiny gnats who dared defy it. Jim-Bean fired grenades into the crowd, tossing cultists into bloody bits of body parts. The lead cultist, Burgess, chanted and a bolt of dark energy speared into Archive. He crumpled. The Keeper stomped over to them and, skewering the Phantom with one pincered leg, tossed it. The Phantom flipped end over end before exlpoding against the blocked entrance to the mound. Hammer fired wildly. The Keeper of the Moon Lens pinned him through the thigh with one spine. He yelped, pinned to the ground. Jim-Bean levitated upwards, satchel of explosives slung over one shoulder. "Dinner's served," he shouted, spraying a burst of gunfire at the thing's head. "Hungry?" And with a lightning-fast snap of its maw, Jim-Bean disappeared into the thing's head. :cth: Part 2 – Final Escape Jim-Bean was held inside transparent walls that pulsed and gripped him firmly, but not tightly enough to injure. "You okay Alfred?" Alfred, slumped against one wall inside the thing's head, nodded weakly. "Yes, sir." He pointed at the satchel. "Are you planning to use that in here, sir?" Jim-bean unslung the satchel and set the detonators. "I'm going to put up a telekinetic barrier around us both. It should shield us from the blast. You stay behind me, okay?" "I can shape the charge sir, for maximum effectiveness. I worked with a bit of explosives myself during the War..." The old codger was being far too modest about his skills. Jim-Bean knew he had been Special Forces. Despite the circumstances Jim-Bean allowed himself a quick smile. "Okay." Alfred arranged the charge, separating out the explosives in a line. "Ready, sir." "Here we go!" Jim-bean focused and a shimmering wall of telekinetic force went up between them and the explosives. He pressed the detonator. :cth: Conclusion The explosives ripped outwards in a cone shape, spattering alien gelatin miles in the air. Jim-Bean was hurled back into Alfred, who crumpled from the concussive force. The Keeper let out a gurgling hiss as its head whipped back and forth, oozing. Jim-Bean came to his senses quickly enough to grab hold of Albert as they were hurled out of the thing's head like a catapult. With a loud croak, it took two steps forward, one back, releasing its grip on hammer. Just as the high priest prepared a retaliatory spell against Hammer it smashed on top of him, silencing priest and god permanently. Jim-Bean landed with the limp Jenkins in his arms. "Albert. Albert! Stay with me!" Albert's eyes fluttered as he was placed on the ground. "We gave them what for, eh, sir?" "We got them Albert." Jim-Bean sniffed. "You got them." "Good, good." He closed his eyes and his chest shuddered. "It's been...a pleasure...serving you...sir..." He let the last of his words out with a sigh. Jim-Bean leaned over the only man he loved like a father and was still for a long time. He only got up until Mrs. Jenkins ran over. "So that's it then," she said softly. Jim-Bean looked up at her. There were no words. "Get up," she said, tear-filled eyes blazing with vengeance. "We've got killin' to do." [/QUOTE]
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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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