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The Complete Masks of Nyarlathotep d20
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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 4271523" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">LESTER’S DREAM</span><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Red"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Red">[GM Note: Backtrack a little: This was a private email sent to Lester’s player before they went into the desert, and related to his companions later; much of this Australian chapter is based on Lovecraft's <em>Shadow Out of Time </em>story].</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Red"></span></strong></p><p><strong><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/moon.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“It is very cold outside. The moon is a high, white orb, uncluttered by clouds. You are in a desert at night, the endless sands a deep shade of blue. Stretching before you are immense towers rising thousands of feet into the air, great black basalt structures that stab toward the moon. Moving quickly, almost as if your thoughts dictate your actions, you find yourself at the base of one of these towers. With a wave of your...</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>...PINCER???</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>and you reel back from shock. Your arm is crab-like, clacking, and then you wave it over the rock wall. A fissure opens. You "think" yourself inside and it seamlessly closes behind you with a snap. And then you're twirling down into darkness. Down and down and down, gliding over dusty stone ramparts and beneath daunting arches. Pinpricks of colored lights guide your way, but you seem to know your destination. This is all familiar.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>An enormous vaulted chamber whose lofty stone ceiling is nearly lost in the shadows overhead.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>There are colossal, round windows and high, arched doors, and pedestals or tables each as taller than a...human? Vast shelves of dark wood line the walls, holding what seem to be volumes of immense size with strange hieroglyphs on their backs. The exposed stonework holds curious carvings, always in curvilinear mathematical designs, and there are chiseled inscriptions in the same characters that the huge books bear. The dark granite masonry is of a monstrous megalithic type, with lines of convex-topped blocks fitting the concave-bottomed courses which rest upon them.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>There are no chairs, but the tops of the vast pedestals are littered with books, papers, and writing materials - oddly figured jars of a purplish metal, and rods with stained tips. On some of them are great globes of luminous crystal serving as lamps, and inexplicable machines formed of vitreous tubes and metal rods.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The interior windows are glazed, and latticed with stout-looking bars. The floor is of massive octagonal flagstones, while rugs and hangings are entirely lacking.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>You abruptly sweep through Cyclopean corridors of stone, and up and down gigantic inclined planes of the same monstrous masonry. There are no stairs anywhere, nor is any passageway less than thirty feet wide. Some of the structures through which you float must tower in the sky for thousands of feet.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>There are multiple levels of black vaults below, and never-opened trapdoors, sealed down with metal bands and holding dim suggestions of some great peril.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>You approach one of these flat doors, feeling great anxiousness, and you do not quite know why...</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>...as the door begins to violently shake!”</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>***</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Lester Cobblebottom, you bolt up from your nightmare, still in the home of Hans Hazzenbaum, bathed in sweat, and if I remember, I’ll dock you a few Sanity points for the experience.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>You can thank me later.</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 4271523, member: 31465"] [SIZE=4]LESTER’S DREAM[/SIZE][B] [COLOR=Red] [GM Note: Backtrack a little: This was a private email sent to Lester’s player before they went into the desert, and related to his companions later; much of this Australian chapter is based on Lovecraft's [I]Shadow Out of Time [/I]story]. [/COLOR] [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/moon.jpg[/img] “It is very cold outside. The moon is a high, white orb, uncluttered by clouds. You are in a desert at night, the endless sands a deep shade of blue. Stretching before you are immense towers rising thousands of feet into the air, great black basalt structures that stab toward the moon. Moving quickly, almost as if your thoughts dictate your actions, you find yourself at the base of one of these towers. With a wave of your... ...PINCER??? and you reel back from shock. Your arm is crab-like, clacking, and then you wave it over the rock wall. A fissure opens. You "think" yourself inside and it seamlessly closes behind you with a snap. And then you're twirling down into darkness. Down and down and down, gliding over dusty stone ramparts and beneath daunting arches. Pinpricks of colored lights guide your way, but you seem to know your destination. This is all familiar. An enormous vaulted chamber whose lofty stone ceiling is nearly lost in the shadows overhead. There are colossal, round windows and high, arched doors, and pedestals or tables each as taller than a...human? Vast shelves of dark wood line the walls, holding what seem to be volumes of immense size with strange hieroglyphs on their backs. The exposed stonework holds curious carvings, always in curvilinear mathematical designs, and there are chiseled inscriptions in the same characters that the huge books bear. The dark granite masonry is of a monstrous megalithic type, with lines of convex-topped blocks fitting the concave-bottomed courses which rest upon them. There are no chairs, but the tops of the vast pedestals are littered with books, papers, and writing materials - oddly figured jars of a purplish metal, and rods with stained tips. On some of them are great globes of luminous crystal serving as lamps, and inexplicable machines formed of vitreous tubes and metal rods. The interior windows are glazed, and latticed with stout-looking bars. The floor is of massive octagonal flagstones, while rugs and hangings are entirely lacking. You abruptly sweep through Cyclopean corridors of stone, and up and down gigantic inclined planes of the same monstrous masonry. There are no stairs anywhere, nor is any passageway less than thirty feet wide. Some of the structures through which you float must tower in the sky for thousands of feet. There are multiple levels of black vaults below, and never-opened trapdoors, sealed down with metal bands and holding dim suggestions of some great peril. You approach one of these flat doors, feeling great anxiousness, and you do not quite know why... ...as the door begins to violently shake!” *** Lester Cobblebottom, you bolt up from your nightmare, still in the home of Hans Hazzenbaum, bathed in sweat, and if I remember, I’ll dock you a few Sanity points for the experience. You can thank me later.[/B] [/QUOTE]
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