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The Complete Masks of Nyarlathotep d20
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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 4050433" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Adventure #13: The Cotton Plantation of Omar Shakti</span></p><p></p><p><strong>Part 2: A Fatal Mistake</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">March 31st, 1925</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">8:30 pm</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>“These Americans—and a Chinaman—have accepted me </em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>into their group. They seem to know more than they’re telling, </em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>and for some mad reason I trust them!”</em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em> <p style="text-align: center">--O. Blumpkin</p><p></em></span></p><p></p><p>While waiting for a taxi outside the Museum, a sensual woman approaches the four well-dressed gentlemen on the steps. <span style="color: red">[GiGi has already permanently exited the campaign by this point, and her character relegated to NPC status]. </span> No one recognizes the stranger. Long hair dangles over her shoulders, and none can resist the sway of her breasts. However, she halts not far from them, her jaw set in anger. </p><p></p><p>“RETURN what was stolen! The scrolls are not yours to keep. They belong to another, and only misfortune will follow.”</p><p></p><p>Chang, Morty and Nevelle assume that this must be who Oscar saw a few days ago, and subsequently tried to hit on. She is indeed quite beautiful. Oscar was right about that.</p><p></p><p>“This is your final warning,” she hisses. “There will be no more offers. Return the Black Rites to me, or suffer the consequences.” </p><p></p><p>“Why?” demands Nevelle. “Really, why? Who are you? We…we have no qualms with you. We only want to…to… study and use--”</p><p></p><p>But she stalks away into an alley teeming with cats, and the darkness swallows her.</p><p></p><p>“That was…rather odd,” says Doctor Blumpkin.</p><p></p><p>Morty sighs. “Yeah. We get that a lot around here.”</p><p></p><p>After their encounter with the Cat Lady, the investigators decide that standing out here might not be good for them. They want dependable transportation, so bringing the doctor who is busy jotting notes, thankful that these fellows have taken the time to enlighten him, they borrow a transport truck from the museum’s loading dock.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/truck.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/masks/truck.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>With Chang behind the wheel, they drive to within a mile of the plantation, park, and walk the rest of the way. Morty has been here previously and has a good idea of the layout. Before long, they spot lights from the house. They reach the perimeter of the field and crawl through the cotton until they are within twenty yards of a back door and storage shed.</p><p></p><p>At this point, the group does not really know WHY they are here, only that Omar Shakti is possibly a bad person and a cult leader, although they're not positive. There is no solid proof. He is a well-known and respected Egyptian businessman. So, with only two flashlights for four people, a Molotov cocktail, several pistols and ammunition, and the good doctor with his notebook, they decide to break in.</p><p></p><p>All at the insistence of Neville Thornbottom, who says that this must be done! </p><p></p><p>Three bright spotlights illuminate the exterior grounds. They see a single man exit the back door, enter the shed, and return inside. They watch for a while, see some lights flip on and off, and Chang finally sneaks to the shed to look around. Nevelle supports this strategy, so long as Nevelle is not in danger. Morty is nervous, and Dr. Blumpkin is so excited that he nearly hyperventilates. They are actually breaking and entering! Fantastic! It is wrong…but fantastic! </p><p></p><p>Inside the shed, all Chang finds is a canvas bag full of small animal skulls. This is useless to him, although he wonders why someone would keep a bag of skulls. Are those…cat skulls? He peers closer, but isn’t sure. He just doesn’t understand the whole cat angle recently, and it worries him. </p><p></p><p>Outside, Dr. Blumpkin scribbles in his notebook: </p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>“We have reached the plantation. Moving in! </em></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"><em>Searching for clues. What did Ochenta see?”</em></span></p><p></p><p>Chang leaves the shed and moves to a window, keeping to the shadows, and soon afterward he has disabled a window lock. He gives his companions thumbs up, and after considerable prompting by Nevelle (who is now treating the other investigators like malleable ninjas while he sits safe in the cotton field), they all gather at the window and one by one roll into a quiet, carpeted, immaculate hallway.</p><p></p><p>The first room they search is an impressive study, boasting a huge oil painting of their target, Omar Shakti. He looks unpleasant. </p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/masks/study.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/study.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>But paintings are always suspicious, and sure enough, they find a sturdy wall safe behind it, but the combination is too tough to bypass. Blumpkin asks why Chang is trying to crack this man’s safe, and Morty tells him that there might be proof inside. </p><p></p><p>“Proof of…what kind?” whispers Blumpkin, but Morty shushes him. </p><p></p><p>Footsteps creak over their head. Someone is above them.</p><p></p><p>They abandon the safe and enter the hall, navigating the dim corridor until they reach the kitchen. It is well maintained, with polished copper pots, hand towels, ladles, culinary knives, and a shiny waxed floor. </p><p></p><p>There is a basement door here, and past the kitchen are stairs that lead to the second level. But they hear a rhythmic sound from the basement, a mechanical “whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp,” so they opt to investigate that first. Morty descends, his pistol out, his flashlight offering him meager illumination. It stinks of mothballs and gasoline, and they soon find a gas generator that provides auxiliary power to the house. It is quite expensive and high quality. Exhaust vents lead outside. But surely a man of Shakti’s wealth can afford power lines to his estate? </p><p></p><p><span style="color: red">[GM Note: I never thought these guys would actually break into Omar’s house, so this entire session was run off-the-cuff, aside from what the campaign book suggested. I eventually learned to stop assuming what they would do next…uh, near the end of the China chapter]</span></p><p></p><p>But almost immediately, someone tromps down the stairs from the 2nd floor, flips on the light in the kitchen, and turns on the water faucet. The investigators scuttle like frightened cockroaches, pressing themselves into the shadows, but no one enters the basement. Soon, the water and lights are turned off. </p><p></p><p>Breathing collective sighs of relief, a plan begins to form. </p><p></p><p>A plan of ambushes. </p><p></p><p>Followed by plans of secondary and then tertiary ambushes. Of pots and pans and guns and…and…cleavers! Right! Cleavers to incapacitate the person upstairs! No, no, no, that won’t do, and they go back to the first plan, where they will hide under the steps and then run UP the steps and WHACK! But no, no, let's not do that. They can’t do that. But wait! Yes, let’s turn the lights off but make the NEW guy do it, but the new guy Blumpkin doesn't want to do it because he doesn't know why the hell he is here in the first place with three men he has never met before today, and first they were pushing a crazy man around in a wheelchair a few hours ago and now they’re waving pistols and flashlights and short-fuse volatile chemicals, and all Blumpkin has is a notebook, and he's getting really really really freaked out by the whole thing, but the others don’t seem to care and just keep saying “Dammit, help us here, Blumpkin!” With some well-worded manipulation, they force Blumpkin to consider it an initiation into their club. Chang, Morty and Nevelle leave and wait outside in the shadows, while Dr. Blumpkin, alone and terrified, pours sugar from the pantry into the generator’s gas tank.</p><p></p><p>This is their plan: break the generator so someone comes to fix it. </p><p></p><p>Blumpkin performs admirably, and then skedaddles to the study and hides behind a plush chair, Omar’s oily eyes bearing down on him. While hunched there, covered in sweat, (his hands shaking so badly that he can barely scribble: </p><p></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">“Sugar mission complete!”</span> </p><p></p><p>the doctor hears two voices discussing the damaged generator. They are in the room above him. He also hears a cat meowing. Apparently, they have already noticed the flickering lights, and one man is instructed to fix it.</p><p></p><p>Blumpkin listens to footsteps come down the stairs, pass through the dining room, into the kitchen, through the basement door, and then down to the generator. He springs up and slides to the door, braces a chair against the knob and locks someone down there, who he thinks is the servant and not this mysterious “Omar” fellow.</p><p></p><p>The doctor grabs an iron skillet and then motions for the others to enter. As a huddled group, they creep upstairs, weapons brandished. Blumpkin grips a pen in one hand like a dagger, the skillet in the other. </p><p></p><p>At the top of the stairs, they spot a slightly open door, probably the room above the study. Light shines through a crack, flicking because of the failing generator. This is it. This is why they came here, to confront Omar Shakti and determine if he is an agent of Nyarlathotep. If not, they will apologize and leave; otherwise, he’ll get the same treatment as the Black Pharaoh! </p><p></p><p>Desiring the element of surprise while they still have it, the investigators BURST into the room, guns and writing implements aimed and pointed, screaming, "Put up your hands you sonavawhore!"</p><p></p><p>Omar Shakti sits on a huge pie-wedge bed, wearing bright blue silk pajamas, petting a white Persian cat on his lap. Surprised, he raises his hands, very, very slowly. The cat stops purring. </p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/omar.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/masks/persian.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/persian.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>“Gentlemen,” he says in heavily accented English, “there is no need for violence. I will obey your wishes. Take what you want…” And he gestures around the bedroom.</p><p></p><p>But the white cat launches up in a blur of motion, streaking cheetah-fast to the nearest person: Blumpkin!</p><p></p><p>“Yeeeaaah!” Blumpkin screams and whacks the cat out of midair with his frying pan. It splats against the wall and crumples to the floor, convulsing. </p><p></p><p>Nevelle holds Omar at gunpoint. “Don’t move!” Omar’s hands are raised, but he shakes his head as if reprimanding a naughty boy. Blumpkin is about to have a heart attack when he sees the cat's tongue lash out from its mouth like a growing pink snake.</p><p></p><p>“Oh…dear…Christ God in Heaven.”</p><p></p><p>The barbed tongue strikes at Chang’s feet. The cat’s body is shaking now as if something beneath the skin wants out. Its flesh ripples and tears, spurting fluids and ooze to the floor.</p><p></p><p>"You should not have come here," growls Omar Shakti.</p><p></p><p>Nevelle Thornbottom answers him by pulling the trigger. The bullet rips through Omar’s shoulder, but in the next instant Omar’s flesh warps into stony rivulets. A split second after that, he utters a quiet word and Shakti vanishes from sight. Screaming non-stop now, Blumpkin swings his frying pan back and forth, but when he strikes a target that feels like solid rock, pain lances all the way up his shoulder. </p><p></p><p>The cat begins to rise, but it is not quite a cat anymore, but something from a nightmare with distended jaws that drip viscous saliva, talons pushing from elongated digits, and these awful, awful ungodly eyes, and as it reaches for the doctor--</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/masks/badcat.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p style="text-align: center"><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/badcat.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>--CHANTING begins, the intonation of horrible syllables that mortal men were not meant to hear, and a foul wind sweeps through the room, as rank as an unearthed graveyard, and and and AND--</p><p></p><p>--and Jake had to leave so we stopped.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: red"></span></p><p><span style="color: red">[GM Note: I told the group, “Don't forget to roll up new characters. Um…you're basically fighting a lich.”]</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 4050433, member: 31465"] [SIZE=4]Adventure #13: The Cotton Plantation of Omar Shakti[/SIZE] [B]Part 2: A Fatal Mistake[/B] [COLOR=DarkOrange]March 31st, 1925 8:30 pm [I]“These Americans—and a Chinaman—have accepted me into their group. They seem to know more than they’re telling, and for some mad reason I trust them!” [CENTER]--O. Blumpkin[/CENTER] [/I][/COLOR] While waiting for a taxi outside the Museum, a sensual woman approaches the four well-dressed gentlemen on the steps. [COLOR=red][GiGi has already permanently exited the campaign by this point, and her character relegated to NPC status]. [/COLOR] No one recognizes the stranger. Long hair dangles over her shoulders, and none can resist the sway of her breasts. However, she halts not far from them, her jaw set in anger. “RETURN what was stolen! The scrolls are not yours to keep. They belong to another, and only misfortune will follow.” Chang, Morty and Nevelle assume that this must be who Oscar saw a few days ago, and subsequently tried to hit on. She is indeed quite beautiful. Oscar was right about that. “This is your final warning,” she hisses. “There will be no more offers. Return the Black Rites to me, or suffer the consequences.” “Why?” demands Nevelle. “Really, why? Who are you? We…we have no qualms with you. We only want to…to… study and use--” But she stalks away into an alley teeming with cats, and the darkness swallows her. “That was…rather odd,” says Doctor Blumpkin. Morty sighs. “Yeah. We get that a lot around here.” After their encounter with the Cat Lady, the investigators decide that standing out here might not be good for them. They want dependable transportation, so bringing the doctor who is busy jotting notes, thankful that these fellows have taken the time to enlighten him, they borrow a transport truck from the museum’s loading dock. [IMG]http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/truck.jpg[/IMG][img]http://www.zikadik.com/masks/truck.jpg[/img] With Chang behind the wheel, they drive to within a mile of the plantation, park, and walk the rest of the way. Morty has been here previously and has a good idea of the layout. Before long, they spot lights from the house. They reach the perimeter of the field and crawl through the cotton until they are within twenty yards of a back door and storage shed. At this point, the group does not really know WHY they are here, only that Omar Shakti is possibly a bad person and a cult leader, although they're not positive. There is no solid proof. He is a well-known and respected Egyptian businessman. So, with only two flashlights for four people, a Molotov cocktail, several pistols and ammunition, and the good doctor with his notebook, they decide to break in. All at the insistence of Neville Thornbottom, who says that this must be done! Three bright spotlights illuminate the exterior grounds. They see a single man exit the back door, enter the shed, and return inside. They watch for a while, see some lights flip on and off, and Chang finally sneaks to the shed to look around. Nevelle supports this strategy, so long as Nevelle is not in danger. Morty is nervous, and Dr. Blumpkin is so excited that he nearly hyperventilates. They are actually breaking and entering! Fantastic! It is wrong…but fantastic! Inside the shed, all Chang finds is a canvas bag full of small animal skulls. This is useless to him, although he wonders why someone would keep a bag of skulls. Are those…cat skulls? He peers closer, but isn’t sure. He just doesn’t understand the whole cat angle recently, and it worries him. Outside, Dr. Blumpkin scribbles in his notebook: [COLOR=DarkOrange][I] “We have reached the plantation. Moving in! Searching for clues. What did Ochenta see?”[/I][/COLOR] Chang leaves the shed and moves to a window, keeping to the shadows, and soon afterward he has disabled a window lock. He gives his companions thumbs up, and after considerable prompting by Nevelle (who is now treating the other investigators like malleable ninjas while he sits safe in the cotton field), they all gather at the window and one by one roll into a quiet, carpeted, immaculate hallway. The first room they search is an impressive study, boasting a huge oil painting of their target, Omar Shakti. He looks unpleasant. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/masks/study.jpg[/img][IMG]http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/study.jpg[/IMG] But paintings are always suspicious, and sure enough, they find a sturdy wall safe behind it, but the combination is too tough to bypass. Blumpkin asks why Chang is trying to crack this man’s safe, and Morty tells him that there might be proof inside. “Proof of…what kind?” whispers Blumpkin, but Morty shushes him. Footsteps creak over their head. Someone is above them. They abandon the safe and enter the hall, navigating the dim corridor until they reach the kitchen. It is well maintained, with polished copper pots, hand towels, ladles, culinary knives, and a shiny waxed floor. There is a basement door here, and past the kitchen are stairs that lead to the second level. But they hear a rhythmic sound from the basement, a mechanical “whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp,” so they opt to investigate that first. Morty descends, his pistol out, his flashlight offering him meager illumination. It stinks of mothballs and gasoline, and they soon find a gas generator that provides auxiliary power to the house. It is quite expensive and high quality. Exhaust vents lead outside. But surely a man of Shakti’s wealth can afford power lines to his estate? [COLOR=red][GM Note: I never thought these guys would actually break into Omar’s house, so this entire session was run off-the-cuff, aside from what the campaign book suggested. I eventually learned to stop assuming what they would do next…uh, near the end of the China chapter][/COLOR] But almost immediately, someone tromps down the stairs from the 2nd floor, flips on the light in the kitchen, and turns on the water faucet. The investigators scuttle like frightened cockroaches, pressing themselves into the shadows, but no one enters the basement. Soon, the water and lights are turned off. Breathing collective sighs of relief, a plan begins to form. A plan of ambushes. Followed by plans of secondary and then tertiary ambushes. Of pots and pans and guns and…and…cleavers! Right! Cleavers to incapacitate the person upstairs! No, no, no, that won’t do, and they go back to the first plan, where they will hide under the steps and then run UP the steps and WHACK! But no, no, let's not do that. They can’t do that. But wait! Yes, let’s turn the lights off but make the NEW guy do it, but the new guy Blumpkin doesn't want to do it because he doesn't know why the hell he is here in the first place with three men he has never met before today, and first they were pushing a crazy man around in a wheelchair a few hours ago and now they’re waving pistols and flashlights and short-fuse volatile chemicals, and all Blumpkin has is a notebook, and he's getting really really really freaked out by the whole thing, but the others don’t seem to care and just keep saying “Dammit, help us here, Blumpkin!” With some well-worded manipulation, they force Blumpkin to consider it an initiation into their club. Chang, Morty and Nevelle leave and wait outside in the shadows, while Dr. Blumpkin, alone and terrified, pours sugar from the pantry into the generator’s gas tank. This is their plan: break the generator so someone comes to fix it. Blumpkin performs admirably, and then skedaddles to the study and hides behind a plush chair, Omar’s oily eyes bearing down on him. While hunched there, covered in sweat, (his hands shaking so badly that he can barely scribble: [COLOR=DarkOrange]“Sugar mission complete!”[/COLOR] the doctor hears two voices discussing the damaged generator. They are in the room above him. He also hears a cat meowing. Apparently, they have already noticed the flickering lights, and one man is instructed to fix it. Blumpkin listens to footsteps come down the stairs, pass through the dining room, into the kitchen, through the basement door, and then down to the generator. He springs up and slides to the door, braces a chair against the knob and locks someone down there, who he thinks is the servant and not this mysterious “Omar” fellow. The doctor grabs an iron skillet and then motions for the others to enter. As a huddled group, they creep upstairs, weapons brandished. Blumpkin grips a pen in one hand like a dagger, the skillet in the other. At the top of the stairs, they spot a slightly open door, probably the room above the study. Light shines through a crack, flicking because of the failing generator. This is it. This is why they came here, to confront Omar Shakti and determine if he is an agent of Nyarlathotep. If not, they will apologize and leave; otherwise, he’ll get the same treatment as the Black Pharaoh! Desiring the element of surprise while they still have it, the investigators BURST into the room, guns and writing implements aimed and pointed, screaming, "Put up your hands you sonavawhore!" Omar Shakti sits on a huge pie-wedge bed, wearing bright blue silk pajamas, petting a white Persian cat on his lap. Surprised, he raises his hands, very, very slowly. The cat stops purring. [IMG]http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/omar.jpg[/IMG] [img]http://www.zikadik.com/masks/persian.jpg[/img][IMG]http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/persian.jpg[/IMG] “Gentlemen,” he says in heavily accented English, “there is no need for violence. I will obey your wishes. Take what you want…” And he gestures around the bedroom. But the white cat launches up in a blur of motion, streaking cheetah-fast to the nearest person: Blumpkin! “Yeeeaaah!” Blumpkin screams and whacks the cat out of midair with his frying pan. It splats against the wall and crumples to the floor, convulsing. Nevelle holds Omar at gunpoint. “Don’t move!” Omar’s hands are raised, but he shakes his head as if reprimanding a naughty boy. Blumpkin is about to have a heart attack when he sees the cat's tongue lash out from its mouth like a growing pink snake. “Oh…dear…Christ God in Heaven.” The barbed tongue strikes at Chang’s feet. The cat’s body is shaking now as if something beneath the skin wants out. Its flesh ripples and tears, spurting fluids and ooze to the floor. "You should not have come here," growls Omar Shakti. Nevelle Thornbottom answers him by pulling the trigger. The bullet rips through Omar’s shoulder, but in the next instant Omar’s flesh warps into stony rivulets. A split second after that, he utters a quiet word and Shakti vanishes from sight. Screaming non-stop now, Blumpkin swings his frying pan back and forth, but when he strikes a target that feels like solid rock, pain lances all the way up his shoulder. The cat begins to rise, but it is not quite a cat anymore, but something from a nightmare with distended jaws that drip viscous saliva, talons pushing from elongated digits, and these awful, awful ungodly eyes, and as it reaches for the doctor-- [img]http://www.zikadik.com/masks/badcat.jpg[/img] [CENTER][IMG]http://www.med.unc.edu/%7Esaasha/Masks/badcat.jpg[/IMG][/CENTER] --CHANTING begins, the intonation of horrible syllables that mortal men were not meant to hear, and a foul wind sweeps through the room, as rank as an unearthed graveyard, and and and AND-- --and Jake had to leave so we stopped. [COLOR=red] [GM Note: I told the group, “Don't forget to roll up new characters. Um…you're basically fighting a lich.”][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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