Eye Tyrant
First Post
I will be running my first CoC game the week after next. With some help and inspiration from the boards I have come up with what I hope to be a good story line. I thought to post the entire rough draft of my game, but that would be a huge post that probably wouldn't get read all the way through anyway (it's about 10 pages so far). So instead I will post bits at a time to get some reaction/advice from everyone here.
My game will take place in present day Charleston, SC and involve 3 PCs:
Keith Edwards - 1st Level Private Investigator: Saw an "Earn your degree at home" ad on TV and completed the Private Investigator course in under 6 months. No real training. Relocating from Chicago.
Winston LeFloure - 1st Level Parapsychologist: In town for a seminar "Ghosts of the South" beginning the week following the start of the game. Avid gun collector.
Tyler Durgen - 1st Level Technician: Computer Science major / Hotel bar tender. Lives off a trust fund set up by his family. Raised in the area.
Possible NPC help also
History:
The story starts back in the 1700’s, nearly a hundred years after Boone Hall Plantation was established. Captain Thomas Boone purchased a group of new slaves, fresh off the boat from the Caribbean. Shortly after their arrival at the plantation Captain Boone began hearing odd chanting coming from the slave cabins at night. Being a “kind” master, he chalked it up as some sort of celebration. However, the chanting continued every night, and before long the captain’s curiosity got the best of him. Heading out toward the slave cabins with a lantern in hand Captain Boone was appalled at what he found.
A throng of people had gathered around a large bonfire. The ground around the fire was littered with the mutilated carcasses of farm animals. The assembled slaves, naked and glistening with sweat in the hot South Carolina summer night, danced around the flames and chanted in their native tongue. An elderly man, a slave of probably 50 years at least, stood at a makeshift altar. Holding a large, earthen jug over his head the man began to chant in rhythm with the others. As the chanting reached a crescendo the old man poured the contents of the jug over his head and face, swallowing as much of the dark, thick liquid as he could. In the poor light Captain Boone could not make out what the liquid was at first. Looking again to the carcasses on the ground the horrific realization came over him. The captain was stunned and afraid, not knowing what to do he looked on. The chanting began to grow louder and as it did the old slave began to convulse. His skin began to bubble and sag, as if it were boiling from the inside. The fingers on each of the old weathered hands drooped and elongated into tentacle-like appendages. Before long the man was totally unrecognizable, appearing to the captain as some sort of abomination of the man that it he once had been.
Captain Boone had seen enough. He lurched from his hiding spot drawing both his service revolver and saber. Gunshots rang out and the naked slaves scattered looking for cover. The captain fired again at the monstrosity before him and the things chest exploded in a fountain of yellowish ichor. The beast, emitting some sort of preternatural gurgle, charged forward toward the soldier. Another two gunshots hit the thing in the chest before it struck the captain with its long slippery tentacles. Staggering back, barely able to maintain consciousness, Captain Boone retaliated. After a long arduous battle with the creature, Captain Boone finally felled it with his saber, cleaving it nearly in two, before collapsing into unconsciousness.
The morning came and all signs of the site were gone, except for the burnt out bonfire and the earthen jug. The slaves kept their distance and refused to make eye contact with their master. Boone, still groggy and in a stupor, took up the jug and made his way down to the edge of the marsh on the far side of the plantation. There he cast the jug out into the water.
Years passed and Captain Thomas Boone was buried near the oak trees he’d planted to line the road leading to the plantation house. All the slaves that had witnessed the occurrences that night had grown old as well, many having died. No one ever heard of or saw the earthen jug again.
It wasn’t until 1862 the second year or so of the Civil War, when a drought that nearly ruined Boone Hall Plantation struck that a young slave boy was working out at the edges of the estate. When digging up the dirt around an old stump he came across that same jug. Not knowing what to think of it he brought the odd jug to his father, who in turn showed it to his father. The elder man looked on the jug with great trepidation and in his desire to do right by his master, took the jug up to the manor house. Major John Boone was, like his forefather a “kind” master, and when presented with the jug was not sure of what to make of it. The old slave told him story of the night that the "devil" had walked the property. Intrigued by the story, Major Boone searched out and found the old diary of his great grandfather Captain Boone. Learning only a little of what had transpired that fateful night, the younger Boone beseeched the old slave to teach him more about the jug. Unwillingly at first the old man declined, but when a strange ire grew in his master’s eyes he could not refuse.
Thus the younger Boone learned the secrets of the jug and the powers it could bestow. Seeking to use this power in the war against the Yankees, Major Boone studied his forefather’s diary for hints at how to garner the power. Eventually, the now estranged Major Boone set out to perform a dark ritual he had learned about through elder slaves, a ritual that would grant him the power to drive back the enemies of the South. As fate would have it the slaves revolted against the Major during the ritual, killing him, but not before he had transformed into the tentacled beast and ruined 8 of the 9 slave cabins.
From there the history is muddled, it is believed that the jug was again discarded somewhere on the plantation, only to be found again a few years ago by Mr. Sandy Seymour. Seymour made a pact with the Hastur (Unspeakable Oath), and has since enjoyed wealth and popularity beyond his dreams. Time is running out for Seymour though, with each passing year the transformation takes more of his body. He has decided to advance the process and go through with the ritual that will complete the metamorphosis. The plantation will be closed to the public as of 8:00pm Saturday May 11, 2002 (the plantation is a historical tourist attraction). The following night he will perform the ritual with a few of his closest followers.
Initial Situation:
While sitting in the hotel bar having a few drinks around 5:00pm Friday May 10th, the investigators hear on the local news that a Civil War era relic (the saber of Captain Thomas Boone) was stolen from The Charleston Museum within the last hour. Police and museum officials have not yet told reporters what is missing. The reporter, Nina Sossamon, goes on to say that at the same time as the theft, the museum organization known has the “Corinthians” was holding their monthly “Happy Hour at the Hunley” a social event that occurs the second Friday of each month. Witnesses say they saw nothing unusual leading up to the time of the theft. The only lead police have at this time is that a black SUV was seen speeding down Meeting Street headed toward the Interstate connector. There are currently no known suspects, but the police are on the scene.
Nina Sossamon also takes time to speak with Mr. Sandford “Sandy” Seymour, a prominent Charlestonian and philanthropist who is also sponsoring the 3rd Annual Strawberry Festival at his home at Boone Hall Plantation. Mr. Seymour seems overly distraught at the theft, calling it a travesty.
My game will take place in present day Charleston, SC and involve 3 PCs:
Keith Edwards - 1st Level Private Investigator: Saw an "Earn your degree at home" ad on TV and completed the Private Investigator course in under 6 months. No real training. Relocating from Chicago.
Winston LeFloure - 1st Level Parapsychologist: In town for a seminar "Ghosts of the South" beginning the week following the start of the game. Avid gun collector.
Tyler Durgen - 1st Level Technician: Computer Science major / Hotel bar tender. Lives off a trust fund set up by his family. Raised in the area.
Possible NPC help also
History:
The story starts back in the 1700’s, nearly a hundred years after Boone Hall Plantation was established. Captain Thomas Boone purchased a group of new slaves, fresh off the boat from the Caribbean. Shortly after their arrival at the plantation Captain Boone began hearing odd chanting coming from the slave cabins at night. Being a “kind” master, he chalked it up as some sort of celebration. However, the chanting continued every night, and before long the captain’s curiosity got the best of him. Heading out toward the slave cabins with a lantern in hand Captain Boone was appalled at what he found.
A throng of people had gathered around a large bonfire. The ground around the fire was littered with the mutilated carcasses of farm animals. The assembled slaves, naked and glistening with sweat in the hot South Carolina summer night, danced around the flames and chanted in their native tongue. An elderly man, a slave of probably 50 years at least, stood at a makeshift altar. Holding a large, earthen jug over his head the man began to chant in rhythm with the others. As the chanting reached a crescendo the old man poured the contents of the jug over his head and face, swallowing as much of the dark, thick liquid as he could. In the poor light Captain Boone could not make out what the liquid was at first. Looking again to the carcasses on the ground the horrific realization came over him. The captain was stunned and afraid, not knowing what to do he looked on. The chanting began to grow louder and as it did the old slave began to convulse. His skin began to bubble and sag, as if it were boiling from the inside. The fingers on each of the old weathered hands drooped and elongated into tentacle-like appendages. Before long the man was totally unrecognizable, appearing to the captain as some sort of abomination of the man that it he once had been.
Captain Boone had seen enough. He lurched from his hiding spot drawing both his service revolver and saber. Gunshots rang out and the naked slaves scattered looking for cover. The captain fired again at the monstrosity before him and the things chest exploded in a fountain of yellowish ichor. The beast, emitting some sort of preternatural gurgle, charged forward toward the soldier. Another two gunshots hit the thing in the chest before it struck the captain with its long slippery tentacles. Staggering back, barely able to maintain consciousness, Captain Boone retaliated. After a long arduous battle with the creature, Captain Boone finally felled it with his saber, cleaving it nearly in two, before collapsing into unconsciousness.
The morning came and all signs of the site were gone, except for the burnt out bonfire and the earthen jug. The slaves kept their distance and refused to make eye contact with their master. Boone, still groggy and in a stupor, took up the jug and made his way down to the edge of the marsh on the far side of the plantation. There he cast the jug out into the water.
Years passed and Captain Thomas Boone was buried near the oak trees he’d planted to line the road leading to the plantation house. All the slaves that had witnessed the occurrences that night had grown old as well, many having died. No one ever heard of or saw the earthen jug again.
It wasn’t until 1862 the second year or so of the Civil War, when a drought that nearly ruined Boone Hall Plantation struck that a young slave boy was working out at the edges of the estate. When digging up the dirt around an old stump he came across that same jug. Not knowing what to think of it he brought the odd jug to his father, who in turn showed it to his father. The elder man looked on the jug with great trepidation and in his desire to do right by his master, took the jug up to the manor house. Major John Boone was, like his forefather a “kind” master, and when presented with the jug was not sure of what to make of it. The old slave told him story of the night that the "devil" had walked the property. Intrigued by the story, Major Boone searched out and found the old diary of his great grandfather Captain Boone. Learning only a little of what had transpired that fateful night, the younger Boone beseeched the old slave to teach him more about the jug. Unwillingly at first the old man declined, but when a strange ire grew in his master’s eyes he could not refuse.
Thus the younger Boone learned the secrets of the jug and the powers it could bestow. Seeking to use this power in the war against the Yankees, Major Boone studied his forefather’s diary for hints at how to garner the power. Eventually, the now estranged Major Boone set out to perform a dark ritual he had learned about through elder slaves, a ritual that would grant him the power to drive back the enemies of the South. As fate would have it the slaves revolted against the Major during the ritual, killing him, but not before he had transformed into the tentacled beast and ruined 8 of the 9 slave cabins.
From there the history is muddled, it is believed that the jug was again discarded somewhere on the plantation, only to be found again a few years ago by Mr. Sandy Seymour. Seymour made a pact with the Hastur (Unspeakable Oath), and has since enjoyed wealth and popularity beyond his dreams. Time is running out for Seymour though, with each passing year the transformation takes more of his body. He has decided to advance the process and go through with the ritual that will complete the metamorphosis. The plantation will be closed to the public as of 8:00pm Saturday May 11, 2002 (the plantation is a historical tourist attraction). The following night he will perform the ritual with a few of his closest followers.
Initial Situation:
While sitting in the hotel bar having a few drinks around 5:00pm Friday May 10th, the investigators hear on the local news that a Civil War era relic (the saber of Captain Thomas Boone) was stolen from The Charleston Museum within the last hour. Police and museum officials have not yet told reporters what is missing. The reporter, Nina Sossamon, goes on to say that at the same time as the theft, the museum organization known has the “Corinthians” was holding their monthly “Happy Hour at the Hunley” a social event that occurs the second Friday of each month. Witnesses say they saw nothing unusual leading up to the time of the theft. The only lead police have at this time is that a black SUV was seen speeding down Meeting Street headed toward the Interstate connector. There are currently no known suspects, but the police are on the scene.
Nina Sossamon also takes time to speak with Mr. Sandford “Sandy” Seymour, a prominent Charlestonian and philanthropist who is also sponsoring the 3rd Annual Strawberry Festival at his home at Boone Hall Plantation. Mr. Seymour seems overly distraught at the theft, calling it a travesty.
