The Complete Masks of Nyarlathotep d20

[Nebulous]

This is Leo (the guy who plays Huey - spoiler:

Spoiler

...for now. Neville Thornbottom and Chad Slambody later

). This was a pretty gung-ho campaign...and I've played a LOT of RPGs, but coming up with The Gas Camel (TM) is one of my proudest gaming accomplishments.

Here's an idea, Leo: the group's name could be dubbed:

The Company of the Flammable Camel

Edit: It's not as sadistic as it sounds, but the Gas Camel chapter won't be posted for some time.

 

[GodPhoenix]

Edit: It's not as sadistic as it sounds, but the Gas Camel chapter won't be posted for some time.

No, it is not as sadistic as it sounds. It is, in fact, far more sadistic than it sounds...especially once we realized we could expand the definition of "camel" to include "horse", "truck", and "person".

 

[Nebulous]

No, it is not as sadistic as it sounds. It is, in fact, far more sadistic than it sounds...especially once we realized we could expand the definition of "camel" to include "horse", "truck", and "person".

You're a bad, bad man.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #7: The House in the Marsh

Adventure #7: The House in the Marsh

The PC’s are initially arrested for assault, but to their advantage, the corpse of Ssathasaa dissolves into a puddle of unidentifiable goop. Even better, Miles Shipley proves himself to be absolutely insane, babbling so much B.S. that he can’t even press charges or agree that the PC’s are to blame. He’s thrown into an asylum and Bertha’s disappearance is eventually blamed on him.

The investigators claim it was self defense and that they were invited inside for a showing. And they still have receipts for the paintings they bought previously! Although heavily fined, [Arnold Silvermine soaking up the brunt with his family wealth and cashed stock bonds] and their weapons confiscated [bringing them down to nearly no offensive capabilities] they are released from jail after a week or so.

During the downtime, they make acquaintances with WESLEY THATCHER, a British detective who is interested in their case, and who turns out to possess knowledge of the Mythos. They convince him that their mission is a worthy one, even if flagrantly unlawful at times.

[GM Note: Thatcher was controlled by a brief player for about two or three sessions. His character was actually instrumental in getting the PC’s out of London because they were in so much legal trouble by then. And honestly, they probably got off easier than they should have].

Upon leaving jail, they check their hidden trunks. They have taken care to hide their residence and gear, and if anyone tracked them, they found nothing. Their trunks of Mythos items and ammunition (and silver axes) are intact, but now the PC’s are missing pistols and shotguns. Police detective Wesley Thatcher joins their team and tells them that they really need to lay low. Barrington is out for blood and desperate to solve the Egyptian Murders, but Thatcher steals a few items from impound anyway, including the serpent painting from Miles Shipley.

Their first business of priority, because bullets solve problems, not libraries, has Arnold Silvermine using his gangster skills to set up an illegal trade for artillery in the near future. He calls connections and arranges for a late night transaction later in the week.

In the meantime, Jonah Kensington is called, telegrammed, and mailed a few boxes of handwritten notes and copied letters detailing EVERYTHING that they have been through: the were-creatures, the attack in the hotel they burned down, the snake person in Miles Shipley’s House, the crazy painting, everything. Jonah Kensington even sends them a telegram in return, letting them know about some info he dug up in back in the states:


WORLDWIDE TELEGRAM

TO: PROSPERO PARTY
FROM: JK

NEW INFO!

R. CARLYLE SAVED JACK BRADY FROM MURDER CONVICTION 1918. UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP. MORE: R. CARLYLE COVERED UP HUSTON’S LOVER’S SUICIDE. BLACKMAIL? UNKNOWN. MORE: HYAPATIA MASTER’S PURPOSE ON TRIP UNKNOWN. PHOTOGRAPHER?

PLEASE UPDATE

[STOP]

Jonah has been very helpful, and the PC’s are glad to have him coordinating things from his end.

However, a few nights later, when Arnold goes to meet his weapons contact, he nearly meets disaster.

The alley is dark and foggy, the streetlamps burned out, and Arnold carries just a single flashlight. The others are elsewhere, leaving Arnold to conduct his illicit business on his own. Arnold calls out the name of his contact, LaVue, a Frenchman, but there is no answer. The fog is unusually thick, even for London, and Arnold soon finds himself confused and lost in the twisting alleys.

“LaVue! LaVue! La— Oh.”

He stumbles across a corpse. It’s probably LaVue, and yes, there are pistols to buy in a leather satchel. Arnold snatches them up, but almost immediately feels tenebrous coils of mist pushing up his nostrils, down his throat, slamming him against the brick wall. He’s suffocating, choking, and stumbles to his knees, scanning with the flashlight for his assailant. The coils of mist recede, sighing, and Arnold staggers to freedom, heaving lungfuls of clean air, as the fog crawls away to hide…

[GM Note: The PC’s never learned that E. Gavigan had sent a Fog Spawn after them, although they later collected the necessary components for the spell]

Re-armed and refortified (and with a temporary 5th party member, Wesley Thatcher), the PC’s evaluate their clues:

1) The Blue Pyramid Club
2) E Gavigan and the Penhew Foundation
3) Tewfik al’Sayed and his spice shop

The Blue Pyramid is a new clue, so they put the others on the backburner. This is the place Inspector Barrington told them was a hotspot for the Egyptian Murders. Somewhere, there must be a link to Jackson Elias. He knew about the cult, and possibly even its hierarchy.

The Blue Pyramid is a hazy Soho nightclub featuring sensual belly dancers, greasy food, and strong drinks. It is very busy the night the PC’s arrive, so they settle down and watch for familiar faces or anything out of the ordinary. They drop a few questions to the dancers, such as “Does anyone know about the Egyptian Murders?” They don’t get many answers, although later one particularly attractive young woman slides up and down Huey, making him uncomfortable and aroused at the same time. Only after she has left does Huey notice a note in his lap!

“MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT AT THE CORNER. I HAVE INFORMATION. BURN THIS.”

Huey eats the note instead, and whispers to the others what it revealed. They stick around for a while and leave the club around midnight.

They’re very cautious, hands to their guns, but the girl is hiding in the shadows on the corner, alone, just as she said.

“My name is Yalesha,” she whispers, “and I must say this quickly. I know of the Brotherhood. They are a dark sect in this city, and they killed my brother! My sweet brother Jory…” She starts crying, and wipes away tears in anger. “Listen, all I know is that once a month a truck comes to the back of the club late at night. A few dozen club members sneak out the loading dock, led by a fat man named Tewfik. I don’t know where they go. That is all I know. Just…do something. Goodbye.”

She vanishes into the night, leaving the investigators a vital new clue:

Tewfik al-Sayed is involved with this after all!

Wesley Thatcher is aware that Barrington has had Tewfik tailed in the past, but it never turned up a lead. Wesley is strangely loyal to this group of vigilante Americans, and he agrees to help them track down the late night truck.

[GM Note: oddly enough, the investigators never return to Tewfik’s spice shop to ransack it, burn it down, or interrogate Tewfik. They never return to the Penhew Foundation either, and they never found the London warehouse or The Ivory Wind. So much burning potential wasted!]

They have no idea when it will arrive, so for five nights in a row they hire a taxi driver named Fred Mearls.

Fred is a talkative fellow who thinks that he has been hired as part of a secret international espionage mission. The PC’s let him keep thinking that, only that when the time is right, Fred will need to drive them as far as needed.

On a wet, blustery Friday night, the fog rolling in thick and cold, they finally get their chance.

A truck pulls up to the back and a handful of men exit the club. Tewfik al-Sayed is the driver.

“Alright, Fred,” Morty tells the cabbie. “Here’s where you earn your pay. Don’t lose them!”

“You got it, boss.”

The truck rolls slowly through the fog, and soon exits London and heads into the countryside, moving northward.

“Heading to the marshes, looks like,” says Fred authoritatively. “Ain’t nothing out there ‘cept muck and mud and islands. Old dykes keep water back from the mainland.”

For an hour and a half the taxi tries to follow the truck at a leisurely distance, not getting too close or too far, but the lights are finally lost. Cursing, the investigators keep driving for a while, and then turn back, and this time they spot a narrow rutted path diverging from the main road.

“Park over there,” they tell Fred. “Keep the engine running, lights off. Give us an hour—no, two hours—to come back. After that, get the hell out of here and contact the police. Tell them…there’s been a murder.”

“Right-o,” says Fred, saluting. “Ya know, we’re near the water’s edge. There’s some islands out there, used to be old farming grounds. Now, it’s all just thousands of acres of grass and scrub, although I do think there’s an old estate out here. Called the Misr House, or some such name.”

Morty, Arnold, Huey, Chang and the British cop Wesley thank their driver, and then walk down the steep path, keeping their flashlights covered as much as possible. They can smell the stink of rotting vegetation and fish, saltwater, and centuries of black mulch. After about half a mile, they see lights in the distance, and a six-foot wall with a guardhouse. The wall extends left and right as far as they can see.

They move off the path and creep along the wall for a few hundred yards, and then climb over. There are lights in the distance, and the shape of large building on an island. But the only apparent way to reach it is by bridge from the guardhouse. The investigators walk along the shoreline for a while, their feet sucking down into wet mud, and they finally reach the guardhouse. Chang carefully peeks in. There are several men playing cards within, rifles resting against the wall. The PC’s scurry onto the road, clambering hand over hand in pitch darkness across the bridge until they reach the far side, and then scamper into the wet reeds.

They’re safe.

But they heard strange noises from the island, low chanting, but can’t discern the location. They creep through the brambles and trees and finally reach the backside of the house. It is actually a large mansion, the foundation partially sunk down into the earth. A backdoor opens and torch-bearing men in robes walk out, heading toward a summit on the island.

The investigators scout around the house, peeking in windows, but don’t see anyone else inside. They break into a large furnished room that features a slightly open door on one end and a wall-sized fireplace on the other. This fireplace, oddly enough, is utterly clean. Chang feels a chill draft from it, and after poking around, he finds a moveable brick. Chang pushes it and a secret door opens; a narrow stairwell winding downward.

Clutching their guns, the investigators creep single file down the stairs, flashlights piercing the darkness. Huey closes the heavy panel behind them. At the bottom they find numerous empty cells with recent evidence that prisoners were held here. On one wall, scrawled in dried feces, are the words: “There is no God.” Great, they think. Lovely place here.

The corridor ends at a closed iron door. Listening, they hear nothing beyond it…and then a quick flutter, like a bird. Pushing open the unlocked door, the investigators flash illumination in all directions, pistols ready to fire at anything that squeaks. It appears to be a sorcerer’s workshop.

There are multiple tables and bookshelves and scientific equipment. Bags of incense, spell components and jars and beakers and bags of rare herbs and bottles of pickled body parts.

On a writing table, beside a lamp, Huey sees a short, unfinished handwritten letter dated yesterday:

“Dear Aubrey,
Elias has been dealt with in New York. You must stop Jack Brady. It is stupefying that he has evaded us for so long. This man may be an obstacle to the Great Work. If you wish, I will…”

Aha! This letter is vital evidence that Aubrey Penhew and Jack “Brass” Brady of the Penhew Foundation might very well be alive, and that Brady is some sort of an enemy to them now! Huey tucks the letter away after showing the others. They see scrolls and a fat ledger scribbled with shipping dates and locations around the world. There are small vials with what look like grubs, and…

…and there is something down there with them.

They hear the flutter of wings again, and movement brushes by Arnold’s face.

“Oh, !” He fires off a round, piercing the wings of some strange small creature that they can barely see. It flutters in and out of sight, whipping a poisonous barbed stinger and then jetting away into invisibility.

The investigators retreat in full chaos, shooting madly, but the invisible imp [GM Note: Gavigan’s familiar, and not part of the campaign book] hounds them, trying to thrust a poisonous stinger into someone’s jugular. They race back up the narrow stairwell to the secret fireplace entrance, and push onto the main floor. The imp does not follow, and they take time to search the rest of the house.

A decrepit stairwell leads to the second floor, where there is a rune-engraved door and many empty bedrooms. They briefly try to open the door, but it is magically sealed and they can’t even damage it. It retrospect, they think that something might be LOCKED in there that they shouldn’t let out, so they retreat downstairs and sneak in the general directions the cultists were heading earlier.

Up the hill.

There is a ritual being conducted. They see a dozen men in robes standing around a tall stone stele.

Several crying prisoners are chained to the stele. The moon is a cruel sliver behind the clouds. The investigators make sure their guns are loaded, and carefully approach the ritual, hiding behind large boulders. They’re not too far away when two men remove their hoods, and they clearly see Edward Gavigan and Tewfik al-Sayed.

These guys are leading the little gathering, and when they point, cultists begin beating the prisoners with clubs! Gavigan and Tewfik are chanting, their arms raised, and a strong wind begins to blow, carrying upon it unnatural whines and cries. Something unwholesome has been summoned.

The investigators can’t stand to see innocents tortured, so they rush from their hiding places and open fire!

Gunshots ring across the night, and a blast catches Gavigan in the shoulder, spinning him off his perch on a rock. Chaos fills the top of the hill, but as soon as the investigators think they have the upper hand, a horrible screech rends the air. A large winged creature circles down through the clouds, and the investigators turn tail and run for their lives. Prisoners be damned!

They keep shooting at the cultists, but a few cultists are armed too, and the investigator’s retreat turns into a staggered line of ducking, crawling and popping off shots. The winged thing scoops up a prisoner, blood and intestines raining down as it soars up and dismembers the poor man.

Chang is shot in the leg and tumbles down to the bottom of the hill. A cultist catches up to him with a knife in hand, but Chang kicks his leg out from under him, staggers up, and keeps running. Morty hangs back to cover Chang, but by this time Huey and Arnold and Wesley Thatcher have sprinted far ahead.

They run madly across the bridge, but blaring sirens and lights halt their retreat. It’s the London Police! A fully armed squad forces their way through the gate after exchanging gunfire with the guards. The team is led by Inspector Barrington who has had the investigators tailed. Their taxi driver Fred Mearls is already in cuffs, and he vigorously waves at the investigators, saluting and smiling, and makes the motion “My Lips Are Sealed My Espionage Friends!”

Everyone is arrested, and Gavigan and Tewfik are brought in on charges of possible murder and kidnapping. In the meantime, the creature summoned soars up into the clouds and vanishes, unseen by the authorities.

The PC’s are in trouble too. They carry illegal guns, and they might have something to do with the ritual on the hill, and possibly the murder of several attendees. Gavigan tries to pass it off as religious freedom and that the investigators trespassed and killed innocent members, but Gavigan lands in a load of trouble. Barrington isn’t buying any of this crap, and the ensuing investigation finds evidence of murder on the island, [including buried corpses later on].

Tewfik and the surviving cultists are arrested and everyone is thrown in jail.

Back at Scotland Yard, The PC’s are interrogated one at a time to learn what they know about the Egyptian Murders. They’re as honest as they can be, citing again that they’re a private team hired to learn about Roger Carlyle’s lost expedition. Barrington tries to corroborate this information with Jonah Kensington in New York.

Wealthy Arnold Silvermine gets them out on bail a few weeks later, and they take a rowboat back to the mansion and steal EVERYTHING they can find! The Misr House has been boarded and padlocked, but that doesn’t stop them from getting in. The pesky imp is shot and killed, and the investigators end up loading their rowboat full of occult items, everything they couldn’t steal during their first visit to the Misr House. This includes a fat ledger that implicates importers and exporters across the globe, such as Aja Singh in Mombasa, Ho Fong in Shanghai, Silas N’Kwane in New York, Randolph Shipping in Port Hedland, Australia, and many more.

It also includes a heavy black stone bust of an Egyptian ruler that Morty finds himself staring at, mesmerized by the man's intense soulless black eyes. He wonders who this dark pharaoh was...

Wesley Thatcher is fired but continues to help the PC’s. He gets them fake passports to leave the country, because they might be arrested again at any time, or deported to America and brought up on charges there. All of their guns were confiscated, but they managed to keep their spare trunks hidden at a tertiary hotel.

The session ends with the group falling into a fitful sleep, knowing that dawn will greet them as they are about to embark on a new journey to Cairo, following a trail of clues and confusion.

At this point, they know that dark magic is afoot in the world, and the Carlyle Expedition was somehow involved, and some of them possibly still alive. Jackson Elias found that out too, and was killed for his knowledge.

The investigators pray they’re not next on the list.

 

[GodPhoenix]

A couple of comments...

their weapons confiscated [bringing them down to nearly no offensive capabilities] they are released from jail after a week or so.

I think this was when Kent (Arnold Silvermine) got the idea of arranging a weekly...*sigh*...gun deilvery service.

[GM Note: The PC’s never learned that E. Gavigan had sent a Fog Spawn after them, although they later collected the necessary components for the spell]

Oh yes we did. I don't think we knew "for absolute certain" but we were convinced enough to cast Heartseeker at him from the other side of London to let him know we were "for realz".

and they never found the London warehouse or The Ivory Wind. So much burning potential wasted!][/color]

Had we found the warehouse, dear readers, I'm sure we would have burned it down.

Wealthy Arnold Silvermine gets them out on bail a few weeks later, and they take a rowboat back to the mansion and steal EVERYTHING they can find!

The proceeds of which funded many future warehouse-related fires.

 

[Nebulous]

Oh yes we did. I don't think we knew "for absolute certain" but we were convinced enough to cast Heartseeker at him from the other side of London to let him know we were "for realz".

Heartseeker, eh? That must have been from a scroll? I forgot all about that part, i'll have to edit it back in. Speaking of editing back in...

The proceeds of which funded many future warehouse-related fires.

...the PC's also found this item in Gavigan's workshop, a hint of things to come:

It also includes a heavy black stone bust of an Egyptian ruler that Morty finds himself staring at, mesmerized by the man's intense soulless black eyes. He wonders who this dark pharaoh was...

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #8: Hello, Cairo

March 7, 1925

The session begins with the investigators asleep in bed the morning they are to sneak out of London. Thatcher has heard that Barrington is arranging new warrants for their arrest, but Thatcher has preemptively hired a boat to shuttle the PC’s out of the country. They will have new identities and passports to use in Cairo, another favor Thatcher procured through illegal avenues. He himself will stay and suffer the consequences of his actions.

However, Edward Gavigan holds one last trick up his sleeve.

Gavigan is aware of the theft from the Misr House, and with help from Tewfik al-Sayed and his Magic Mirror, these two sorcerers toss Sanity-shredding spells against the heroes, and each one is privately subjected to his own hellish experience. As if their experiences in the last chapter weren’t Sanity draining enough!

[GM Note: I showed each player what was happening in his dream, and described it while the others wondered what he was looking at…and why they were gulping].

Bone-white children with horrible eyes and sharp fangs assault Morty.

Arnold finds himself in a bloody morgue, a toetag on his foot, his intestines being devoured by a female ghoul.

Huey’s brain is sucked out by some amorphous abomination.

David’s character is actually attacked by Ygolonac, the palms in his hands chewing up Chang’s face and swallowing his flesh

[They all rolled VERY high Sanity loss scores in their dreams, but upon waking, and realizing it was just a dream, the losses were considerably lessened.]

Shaking from the nightmares, they assume that none other than Edward Gavigan could have done this to them. And the investigators aren’t ones to idly sit back! Searching through scrolls stolen from the Misr House, Huey is able to decipher a Latin manuscript detailing a spell called “HEARTSEEKER.” Directed at Gavigan by using some of his personal accouterments as a focus, Huey studies and casts the vile spell, hoping to kill Gavigan. The results are unfortunately unknown.

They decide to leave late that night before something else goes wrong. They’re under house arrest by Scotland Yard, but Thatcher arranges an elaborate diversion that allows the PC’s time to leap unseen into the back of a truck. Thatcher himself drives them to the docks where he bids them goodbye, good luck, and he exits the campaign permanently. They’ll need the luck.

It is the last contact they’ll have with Gavigan for a long, long time.

Within a week, they find themselves resting on the tranquil Isle of Patmos in the Mediterranean, the fabled place where St. John wrote Revelations.

Patmos is a rocky place featuring goats and monasteries, cawing seagulls and the gentle murmur of waves, and for a short while the PC’s are able to regain fragments of their tortured Sanity. But then it’s onward to Cairo, where they suspect that the Carlyle Expedition unearthed more clues, and where Jackson Elias contacted someone named FARAZ NAJIR, an antiquities dealer.

Furthermore, the ledger obtained from Gavigan’s estate has addresses here in Cairo, as well as numerous other countries. Surely, some of these people must know something? And how involved are they in these murderous cults?

Current Leads (not including clues in several other countries):
1) Some guy named Brady, probably Jack Brady from the original expedition, has caused problems for Gavigan and Aubrey. According to Jackson’s Nairobi notes, Brady might be in China.
2) Faraz Najir, on the Street of Jackals, dealt with Jackson Elias buying items
3) The Penhew Foundation has financed digs in Egypt many, many times
4) The Carlyle Expedition passed through here and possibly left evidence

They arrive in Egypt near Port Said, and after unloading, secure a train to Cairo.

They have managed to bring all of their trunks and luggage with them, and sneak past pesky customs officials, which was an adventure in and of itself.

It is March 18, 1925, approximately two months since their journey first began.

The weather is actually quite nice, with a few clouds scuttling across the sky. They pack themselves onto the train for the half a day ride into the city, absorbing all the new sights, but nothing has prepared them for the exoticness of Egypt.

Arabic languages waft around them, and Huey is able to pick up a few words. The Academian in him proves useful sometimes! The train finally disembarks at Ezbekia Gardens, a huge central area not unlike Central Park in NY. The PC’s step off the train and are overwhelmed by the sheer size and bustling fervor of Cairo. It is home to over 800,000 people, and they all seem to be out at once! Animals and citizens flock through the streets, and the investigators are bowled over by a wave of scents and sound foreign to them, and not all pleasant.

A post office is nearby, as well as the American and British Embassies, so they register where needed and take time for some sightseeing. This plaza also houses nicer hotels, and financial institutions. They do have a few leads to follow up, but they have no idea where anyplace is, and the language barrier is becoming a problem. They realize they’ll probably need a guide, even though one member of their party speaks limited Arabic.

But they don’t stay long in Ezbekia Gardens. They forge out into the city, dragging their trunks behind, drinking in the luxurious, fantastic Cairo, home to secrets millennia old. And they find that much of the city is terribly poor. Beggars stagger up to them, many with noses rotted away from syphilis. Dirty children run through the streets, and the eyes of thieves glare darkly from alleys.

They finally pick a hotel called The Broken Camel [GM Note: which has nothing to do with the Gas Camel; that doesn’t rear it’s ugly head until “Desert Assassins”], which doesn’t seem too bad, and fairly innocuous. That’s what they want, to blend in as well as they can. After the chaos in London they’re wary about starting gunfights in Cairo. They’re not even quite sure what the local laws are regarding foreigners and weapons. [They find out soon enough]

The hotel concierge points in the direction of several young men who will act as guides, introducing them to an innocent-looking ten-year old boy named Ma’Moud. They soon learn that Ma’Moud is homeless, impoverished, and desperate for companionship. He is more than happy to show the investigators around Cairo, and even though he speaks rudimentary English, they quickly come to like and rely on him. [And Ma’Moud enters campaign play as a long-enduring NPC]

The Street of Jackals is still their biggest Cairo lead, and one Faraz Najir, who had some business dealings with Jackson Elias.

The streets are bustling with commerce and people, the tide of noise and scents nearly overpowering. The investigators have no idea where they are, so they trust Ma’Moud for guidance. The next day will test their determination, and force upon them the first death of the campaign.

In fact, the entire Egypt chapter racks up the body count.

The session ends with them overlooking the Nile River, the sun dipping into a molten horizon…

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #9: Ambush at the Broken Camel

Early the next morning, something tapping on the window wakes Chang up. The sun has just crested the city skyline. Yawning and stretching, he pulls back the curtain and looks out…

…and sees Ma’Moud throwing up small pebbles from the alley below. Ma’Moud waves, smiling, and Chang waves back, about to close the curtain…

…when a window directly across the street draws his attention. The curtain jerks back, and with horribly delayed reaction, Chang sees three armed men, two of them feeding a sleeve of bullets into a Gatling gun!

“LOOK OU--!” is all he can manage.

Hundreds of bullets rupture the morning calm, punching through plaster, wood, and glass as the investigator’s hotel room is mercilessly shredded. Chang falls flat, an arm pierced, but Huey, still groggy in bed, is not so lucky.

A bullet critically strikes him between the eyes, and then several more riddle his chest, lungs, and heart, cruelly ending Huey’s fight against the Mythos that not even Action Points can salvage. And he never got to cast “Create Corpse Walker!” [another character, dark sorcerer Lucius Lardlover, amends that later]

Chang leaps to his bed and rips both pistols out. Morty and Arnold have fallen flat and are scrabbling for the door. But Chang has brass balls and he rolls to the window, popping up, sending a retaliatory hail of bullets across the alley. He kills one assassin, but another takes pot shots into their room, hoping to hit someone with blind luck.

Morty scrambles out the front door under a haze of misty plaster and paint dust, followed by Arnold, but the killers don’t take more than three or four rounds to conduct their dire business. With the machine gunner dead, they drop their large gear and run. Chang debates leaping across, but the distance is too far. “Downstairs!” he yells. “They’re running out!”

Chang glances at Huey’s corpse, but swallows his grief for later. Sooner or later, they knew this was bound to happen.

[GM Note: The bad guy's chance of actually hitting someone were very slim, but the campaign book suggested that cultist retaliation (such as rifling their hotel) was possible, especially if the cult was aware of them; and critical hits suck.]

Morty, Arnold and Chang fly through the Broken Camel and burst out the front door, hanging a left into the adjacent alley and see two cultists leaping off a fire escape. Both sides hunker behind trash barrels, pistols raging between them, pinging off brick walls and filling the dirty alley with smoke and confusion. Chang is nicked in the ear, but his attacker is shot twice in the chest, dropping him. The second tries to run, but Arnold chases him down and blasts him in the back.

It is only their second day in Cairo, one of their party is dead, the enemy knows who they are, and they’re scared, wounded and gasping for breath in a dingy alleyway with no idea what to do next.

Ma’Moud is frantic, screaming and jabbing his finger at approaching witnesses. Not wanting to get caught in the middle of this mess, the investigators retreat to the Broken Camel, grab their gear and exit as quickly as possible. Ma’Moud follows, wringing his dirty brown hands and pointing witnesses in the opposite direction, claiming that the killers ran THAT-A Way. “Go! Go! Go! Bad men that way!” He wants his new American friends to stay free and alive, so he offers misdirection for free.

They’re barely able to avoid authorities who raid the Broken Camel and the adjacent building, hunting for culprits.

The investigators hoof it back to Ezbekia Gardens and check into the ritziest, most expensive hotel that Arnold can afford, but later that day they are approached by police concerning the murder of Huey Fulton, except that Huey had no identification on him and the police are just following leads provided by witnesses. By now the investigators have approached the U.S. Embassy looking for help, because they’re going to need it.

[GM Note: I remember some confusion during this part of the campaign over legal ramifications in 1920’s Cairo. Some stuff I glossed over or hand-waved, but these would be excellent facts to research for future games.]

They’re finally released after denying all knowledge of anything, but are afraid that they’re in far over their heads in dangerous territory. Huey’s loss is a difficult ordeal, but the corpse is never claimed or identified. They want to wash themselves clean of any connections. Their lives may very well depend on it.

[GM Note: although the players never directly learned this, Edward Gavigan had sent warning to Cairo that a group of American vigilantes were on the move, and they should be killed as soon as possible if spotted.]

Jonah Kensington is contacted back in New York and they give him the bad news. Kensington agrees to tell Huey’s father, Huey Fulton Sr., that he’ll have to run his occult bookshop by himself from now on. His son, unfortunately, won’t be returning home.

They decide to lay low and avoid Faraz Najir for a few days, and by chance wind up at the Cairo Museum across the Nile River.

There might be a connection between the Egyptian Exhibits at the Penhew Foundation in London and the extensive collections here in Cairo, so they politely ask to speak with the curator, and are introduced to a gentle elderly man who speaks English very well: Dr. Ali Kafour.

“Dr. Kafour,” says Morty carefully, “we’re travelers and…historians from America. We’re looking for any knowledge you might have about Jackson Elias, the Penhew Foundation, or a man named Roger Carlyle. He would have passed through here about five years ago.”

Ali Kafour’s eyebrows arch. He glances around as if the walls have ears. “I know of these people. Gentlemen, let us speak in private. Come with me.”

Ali places a quick call on an interior phone line, and then leads them through the museum, past lavish exhibits of ancient masonry and crumbling stone hybrid animals, and other representations of Horus, Isis, Bast and Tutankhamen.

He leads them down into steel-lined vaults to an office that is quiet, remote, and decorated with curious knick-knacks and an ornate red Persian rug. A young Englishman is waiting there and he nods at their arrival.

[GM Note: this is Leo’s new character, a sorcerous scholar and devotee to Ali Kafour who had been created as a backup character; technically, everyone was supposed to have a backup character]

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Kafour says kindly, “please ask any questions you have. And if you don’t mind, my assistant Neville Thornbottom will remain with us. He has a vested interest in these affairs, and is a keen academic with the…occult.”

The occult.

Wonderful. Not quite sure what they’ve gotten themselves into, yet again, but Morty, Chang and Arnold segue into a story about murder, corruption and lies, feeling safer and safer as Ali Kafour barely flinches, and they finally start pulling out the Big Guns, babbling about hidden death cults and black brotherhoods and zombies and the lost Carlyle Expedition which may not really be lost, and, and, and—

“Wait!” barks Dr. Kafour. Sweat dampens his forehead and his hands jitter with nervous excitement. “Neville, shut and lock the door.” Neville does so and sits back down, his face equally flushed. “Dear sirs,” whispers Ali Kafour, “I know the horrors of which you speak. You have stumbled, quite unwittingly it seems, upon a great conspiracy. A global abomination. A plan of some sort of which I am only partially aware. But I will tell you what I know. We should be safe here from prying ears. Magical or otherwise.”

And that is all they wanted to hear.

WHAT DR. KAFOUR KNOWS:

He is a source of awful, enlightening information, and the investigators are shell shocked (and Sanity slammed) by his story:


1) Ali believes that in 1920 the Carlyle Expedition uncovered a secret about the Black Pharaoh that led to their vanishing in Kenya. The investigator’s friend, Jackson Elias, discovered this secret and was silenced too. In some circles, The Black Pharaoh is also known as…

…NYARLATHOTEP.​

A dark god with many faces who is all too real and involved with mankind. In fact, this god has so many aliases that they are known as Masks.

2) During 3rd dynasty Egypt a mortal sorcerer named Nephren-Ka came to
power and revived the worship of a primordial deity known as the Black
Pharaoh. Over time, distinction between man and god blurred into one. The Black Pharaoh was finally thwarted and killed by Sneferu, a powerful king, and all traces of the Black Pharaoh were stricken from the land, or buried in the Collapsed, Bent, and Red pyramids, located in Dhashur and Meidum.

According to legend, the Red Pyramid at Dhashur is said to guard the land lest Nephren-Ka rise from the dead to rule the world…

2 a. When questioned in more detail about this Black Pharaoh, Ali Kafour tells them this:

1. Nephren-Ka’s voice could travel the land as a Black Wind
2. The Black Pharaoh would return one day to destroy the world.
3. Inhuman worshipers of the Black Pharaoh are said to lurk in the dark
4. The Great Sphinx of Giza has an important—and unknown--relation to Nitcrosis.


Nitcrosis? [pronounced “Night – Crow – Siss” in this campaign] Who is that? they ask, getting even more confused. Ali Kafour elaborates on this elusive person from Egypt’s dark past; an ancient and cruel queen of the Nile Valley who tortured her subjects. Little is known about her reign, but she and the pharaoh Nephren-Ka may have had a connection.

3) The CLIVE EXPEDITION is the current Penhew Foundation dig active in Egypt, but recently they had a new mummy stolen from a pyramid at Giza. The mummy, who Ali believes was NITCROSIS, coincides with a prophecy that foretells the return of the Black Pharaoh. But the mummy has mysteriously vanished from Giza’s smallest pyramid Menhaura, right out from under the nose of the Clive Expedition and the stationed guards.

4) Ali Kafour doesn’t know where the Clive Dig is now, but a man named Janwillen Vanheuven might. He was publicly fired from the dig several months ago for alcoholism and maybe other reasons. The local paper archives have all the details. If they can track him down, he might know where the Clive Expedition has gone. He might even know more than that…

5) Ali Kafour has always respected Sir Aubrey Penhew, Director Edward Gavigan and the Penhew Foundation itself, but ever since Sir Aubrey’s death there has been numerous expeditions to Cairo accompanied by mysterious deaths, disappearances and suicide, following the same symptoms established by the Carlyle Expedition. The whole region seems cursed.

The PC's are quick to tell Ali that Gavigan was a cultist and nearly killed them, to which Ali replies
that their group is in dire danger, and they face threats greater than any imagined. Ali suspects that the dead Mummy Queen Nitcrosis plays a vital role in upcoming events, but he knows not how. His co-worker Neville Thornbottom volunteers to join their fledgling group and use his extensive Mythos knowledge to help them.

And Neville knows potent and reality-altering magic, like the extraordinary Bodywarping of Gorgoroth, magic stronger than the rest of the party has ever seen.

[GM Note: Ali Kafour, unknown to them, is an accomplished magician too, but his secret skills are not revealed. He remains in the background as their financial connoisseur, eventually replacing Jonah Kensington in New York as the core party is destroyed, driven mad, and replaced by new heroes opposed to the Mythos…except for Chang Chin, the longest running survivor]

Morty, Chang, Arnold and Neville step out into the sunshine near the Cairo Museum, their Egyptian guide Ma’Moud smiling up at them. He is so trusting, and the players (not just the characters) feel a deep compulsion to keep him safe and alive. They now possess a greater understanding of the terrible plans that Jackson Elias had unearthed. There is a plot at work here, the reins held by a dark and malevolent deity that they can barely comprehend. And this deity commands hundreds if not thousands of worshippers who will slay them to keep their secrets hidden.

Using Ma’Moud, they finally attempt to find The Street of Jackals and one Faraz Najir, an antiquities dealer who dealt with Jackson Elias in the past. It takes three hours, but their meandering path leads them to Old City and the crumbling edifices of ancient Cairo.

But Najir’s old shop is a burned out shell.

Bummed, the investigators discuss what they should do. They have no idea where to find this man. Speaking fluent Arabic, Neville Thornbottom asks a local shop owner where they can find the former resident of this location.

The man invokes Allah at the mention of Faraz Najir, and tells Neville that “a demon made of fire came years ago and set the shop aflame. The owner barely escaped alive.” However, the informant knows where Faraz set up a NEW shop, and for a few coins greasing his palm, he tells them.

Kahn El-Khalili is a crowded marketplace bustling with vendors and buyers, and the new address is on the Street of Potters. Ma’Moud is able to competently lead them there, and within an hour, they have found their man.

Amidst dozens of similar markets is a door marked in several languages, one of which states “Faraz.” Neville and Morty enter, pretending to browse while Arnold and Chang remain outside. Ma’Moud rubs his toe in the dirt and watches his new, bizarre American friends.

The shop is filled with worthless junk, even the newcomers can see that, and lording over this house of rubbish is a hideously scarred man slouched behind a counter: Faraz Najir.

Old burns scar half of his flabby face, and he raises a weak hand in greeting.

Drawing closer, Neville calmly asks if Faraz has any knowledge regarding a man named Roger Carlyle, leader of an expedition that passed through this region roughly five years ago. Or perhaps a man named Jackson Elias, an American writer?

Faraz’s eyes grow wide. “Blasphemers!” he hisses. “Leave this place! Leave now! You go! Go! GO! GO! GO!”

He shoos them away with a broom, but when Neville and Morty continue to press questions, Faraz picks up a cheap bronze urn and chucks it at them. “Help!” shouts Faraz. “HELP ME!”

The investigators don’t wait around. Apologizing, they scramble out as curious onlookers note them. Morty tosses some coins to the ground, and the last thing they see is Faraz Najir bending down to pick them up, biting a silver between his teeth…

Discouraged, but not beaten, the investigators send Ma’Moud back to watch Faraz and see if he goes anywhere. The boy happily obliges, and they wait at a local cafe for any word. A few hours later Ma’Moud runs up and tells them that Faraz has gone to a restaurant. They decide to pay the man off for information, and approach Faraz again, telling him they just have some simple questions! And money!

“We mean no harm!” Neville insists in Arabic.

Arnold Silvermine throws a silver coin down. Faraz stands up, about to run, but scowling, asks,

“WHAT in Allah’s holy name do you want?”

“Just questions answered, kind sir; a moment of your time,” Neville answers.

“Time is money,” the shopkeeper spits. They flip him another coin. He waits. They flip him two more. “I will answer, but not here, not now. Meet me at the El Hussein Mosque the day after tomorrow. 5 in the evening. I will answer your questions only there, under the merciful eye of Allah.”

Thanking him, the investigators leave and travel back to Ezbekia Gardens, hoping that this lead will pan out, and wondering just how merciful Allah truly is.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #10: The Drunk Dutchman

The next day the investigators hop a tram to Giza. They have not been to the pyramids yet and want to see firsthand where the mummy (possibly Nitcrosis) was stolen from the Clive Expedition.

Find the mummy, and they might find the next clue to the Carlyle Expedition.

They reach Giza and are awed by its sweeping majesty. The leonine Sphinx looms over them as if ready to pounce, and the great pyramids stoically rest behind it, etched upon the horizon like sleeping giants.

The investigators inspect the Menhaura pyramid (the smallest one), asking the guards about the mummy found by the Clive expedition. The guards claim to have heard screams that night, and other guards near the chamber disappeared without a trace. The current sentries are pretty unnerved by that, but insist that there is no way such a huge sarcophagus could vanish! The investigators conduct their own search and find a discolored stone in the tomb but no apparent means to move it.

There are other tourists here and the investigators finally leave, having hit a dead end.

They return to Cairo and talk to Ali Kafour. His sources haven’t heard anything out of the ordinary, but he suggests Janwillen Vanheuven again. Maybe the Dutchman can tell the investigators more about the Clive Expedition, who can in turn inform them about the stolen mummy. It is a long shot, but a chance nonetheless.

Finding the man proves problematic though and requires some door knocking at the local embassies and paying off a few citizens. But within two days, they hear that a Dutch fellow lives in a very, very poor part of town in Old Cairo on the Street of Moths. It is difficult to find, and requires another lengthy trip through the sprawling city.

When they arrive, an old Egyptian man is shooing cats out the front door of a tailor shop. Neville politely asks if he has seen a man named Janwillen Vanheuven, and the tailor tentatively points inside. He looks the group up and down, and then turns a “Closed” sign on the door and shuffles down the street, throwing back worried glances.

The investigators enter the shop and can smell Vanheuven before they see him.

Janwillen is passed out in a small, squalid bedroom. Well, not so much a bedroom than a converted closet. His “door” is a tattered cloth. There is a stained wireframe cot, a bedside table cluttered with paper, pens and books, a chair, and dirty clothes strewn in the corner. And seven empty bottles of liquor. And body odor so potent it is nearly tangible.

“Ahem. Mr. Vanheuven?” asks Morty in English, covering his nose. Janwillen mumbles and rolls over. “Mr. Vanheuven? Are you awake? We would like to speak with you.”

A cat jumps to the windowsill in the anteroom, licking its paws.

Janwillen doesn’t answer, and on a whim, Chang squats to his hands and knees and searches under the bed, spotting a mound on the dirt floor as if something is shoddily buried there.

Interesting. They note this discovery, and then jostle Janwillen awake. They need to talk to him. The Dutchman fumbles with his spectacles and blinks at the strangers. They’re Europeans! He seems glad to see them, and unsteadily shakes their hands. He is obviously suffering from a wretched hangover.

The investigators question him about the Clive Expedition and what happened to his employment there, and after some initial disgruntled reactions, Janwillen tells them his story.

“Oh, yah, how I miss them…the good Doctor Clive and Doctor Gardner…”

The Clive Expedition, he says, had found a secret chamber at Giza several months ago, and within were remarkably well-preserved scrolls indicating that the mummy could, perhaps, be Nitcrosis.

He wasn’t sure about that, and soon afterwards was fired by Dr. Clive, and then the whole expedition uprooted to MEMPHIS. Janwillen barely got to inspect the scrolls personally.

Neville jots the new location down. Memphis is a hundred miles south of the original dig site at Giza.

“Why were you fired?”

He jerks his head to the bottles strewn around the room. “My hobby,” he answers sullenly. “And…more. Perhaps. I…I do not know for sure.”

And then without provocation, Janwillen offers his personal opinions of the Clive principals:

Dr. Henry Clive (English, a brilliant man and scholar); Johann Sprech (an unlikable German fellow); Agatha Broadmoor (a dotty old woman); James Gardner (his favorite by far); and Martin Winfield (another British archaeologist).

[GM Note: by now the PC’s are getting cramped fingers from writing clues down]

He respects each of them as professionals. “I do not take it personally,” he says, although from his misty eyes the investigators think he might. But soon enough, he segues into a story about an AMAZING FIND he has recently made.

“Yah! I’ll be much famous,” he murmurs, his eyes dancing. “Da international recognition I deserve!”

You see, he says, Gardner had given him some information, probably because Gardener felt bad about Janwillen getting fired and all. And Gardener probably thought it was a useless red herring. Well, if only he knew what he had given up! Following Gardner’s hint, Janwillen ventured all alone into a dark, secret catacomb beneath the city streets, and he finally found a shrine. A special shrine. A shrine filled with small cubby holes in the walls, and the strong stink of urine. A statue was there, and in a secret compartment in the base of the statue he miraculously discovered some delicate scrolls.

Oh yes, Janwillen claims that as soon as his new discovery is translated from Coptic to Dutch he will be rich and famous, even more so than Dr. Clive, and he won’t need their stupid mummy to gain fame and for—

“Aaagh!”

Janwillen is interrupted by a cat slinking into the room. It maliciously hisses at him, and Chang damn near pulls out his pistol and shoots it. He hates cats anyway.

“DEMON!” Janwillen screams and throws a shoe at it. “Damned cats have been following me everywhere,” he mumbles. “You’d think I was a tunafish.”

The investigators wonder about that.

Regardless, the party wants to talk to Janwillen in more detail about both his secret project and the Clive Expedition, so they offer him brunch and booze. Unable to refuse, Janwillen throws a hat on, pulls on some pants, and stumbles outside.

When halfway to the snack shop, Chang runs back, digs under the bed, and uncovers several ancient papyrus scrolls in a leather pouch. He glances over them, beaming at his treasure. Poorly concealed fortunes never stay concealed for long, and Chang stuffs the scrolls down his pants before rejoining his friends.

On the corner, three cats are slyly watching him.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #11: Mad Warren Besart (Part 1)

Adventure # 11: Mad Warren Bessart
Part 1: A Ghoulish Evening

[GM Note 1 - For different reasons, the campaign stalled for nearly a year between the last episode and this one, and when it restarted, we had permanently lost one player and gained another. It was hard getting everyone up to speed. It is a very complex scenario even if you DO play regularly (which in our case was every 2-4 weeks, with occasional bursts once per week). Our game unfortunately halted in the middle of what I consider to be the most difficult chapter to run— EGYPT].

[GM Note 2 - Character Update: All characters are 3rd level by now. I never used experience points; I just leveled them up at my own discretion. It averaged every 4-5 adventures. New characters were introduced at the same level as a dead/insane one for balance reasons].

The cast--

Leo: playing his new spellcaster Neville Thornbottom
Jake (new): playing greasy Oscar “Ocho” Ochenta, a drug dealer down on his luck
David: playing Chang still, a true survivor (but oddly incapacitated by
liquor or intestinal viruses for much of the remaining campaign)
Jeff: still playing his investigator Morty Jones from New York City

Kent (sadly absent): as Arnold Silvermine, wealthy rumrunner and bad apple.



IMMEDIATE GOALS:

1) Pick Janwillen’s brain about the Clive Expedition. This Penhew-funded expedition has knowledge
about the mummy, and the stolen mummy probably has something to do with the Black Pharaoh,
who is probably an aspect of Nyarlathotep, which is actually a true god that the investigators can
barely comprehend.
2) Either let Janwillen finish translating the Black Rites of Bast, or steal the Rites and translate it
themselves. Why? They don’t even know. Why not?
3) Meet with Faraz Najir at 5 o’clock this evening at the El Hussein mosque, under the holy eye of Allah.
There, he will speak to the investigators about Jackson Elias and Roger Carlyle. For a price, of
course.
4) Don’t die.



It is nearly dark.

Neville, Arnold, Chang, Morty and Ma’Moud sit at a local Cairo cafe with the drunken Dutchman, Janwillen Vanheuven. He is nearly incoherent by this point, but happy to accept their food and liquor. Arnold Silvermine leaves to go find them some more booze. The small café has closed for the evening as they talk on the veranda, and stark evening shadows are already crawling across the streets.

However…

…two tables away sits a thin, oily man from Paraguay, watching them with beady eyes:

Oscar “Ocho” Ochenta (our new player, Jake).

Ochenta is a drug dealer who has been screwed by the scummy people he associates with. They’re lying degenerates, like himself. In fact, he has almost no money left at all, with holes in his pockets and skeletons in his closets. But these American gangsters seem loaded, throwing money around left and right. He listens to their entire conversation, convinced that these jokers can somehow earn him a quick buck. Especially if he steals whatever it is they’re talking about!

“Eh, yooze there,” says Oscar to the group, interrupting them. “My name ez O-scar Ochenta. And I would like to offer you my…services.”

He passes himself off as a mercenary and guide for hire, and if they need extra muscle, he’s their man. Actually, they DO need help, so after settling on a generous price, Oscar Ochenta is accepted at their table. Such is the trust required in a roleplaying group!

They continue with Janwillen’s alcohol-fueled interrogation.

Vanheuven spills as much as he can remember about the Clive Expedition, repeating himself quite a lot, and the reasons for his being “fired.” “I cannot blame ‘dem,” he slurs. “‘Ook at me, I’m a ‘retch!”

Janwillen honestly admired the Clive Expedition: Dr. Clive, Johan Sprech, Agatha Broadmoor, Martin Winfield, and James Gardner. His tongue is loose and he holds nothing back. In truth, he finds himself inferior to every one of them!

They’re so good at what they do, he cries, and he is a poor archaeologist, but wait until they see his discovery! Gardner should never have told him to dig around in that secret holy place beneath the city. His eyes are alight as he talks about the Rites of Bast, but little does he know that the investigators have already swiped it from under his bed.

And little do they know the trouble they’ve attracted by doing so.

Even as Janwillen talks about the manuscript, a cat streaks up and rakes Janwillen’s foot! He screams and kicks at the beast. It retreats, growling, hissing and spitting.

“Monster!” he shrieks. “Leave m’lone!”

The cat finally leaves, and soon afterward, Janwillen falls unconscious, his forehead striking the table with a meaty “thunk.” The party is left debating what to do, wondering why these cats are stalking Janwillen, and more importantly, why has Arnold Silvermine been gone so long? But moments later agonized screams erupt from around the corner.

“Oh God! God no! HELP! AGGGHH! Agh!! Morty! Chang! HELLLLLPP!”

Everyone launches up except for Janwillen, whom Oscar and Ma’Moud stay behind to protect. Morty follows the screams, reaches the dark alley first, pistol out, but he skids to halt. The sight beyond paralyzes him.

A fiery blue Eye of Horus blazes on a brick wall, dripping molten motes to the ground, and crawling from the earth are two rotting ghouls! Their eyes shine with unholy light, and they move with speed and strength belying their rotting frames. They seem to have sprouted from the street itself, and both abominations grapple Arnold Silvermine.

“MORTY! Good Christ! SAVE ME!!!!!” shrieks Arnold, trying to push the hands away.

Morty screams too and shoots, but it is too late.

One ghoul grips Arnold under the chin and peels off HALF his face like a grisly wet sheet. The other plunges its claws beneath his ribcage and rips his lungs out. Arnold gasps, shudders, but is dead within seconds, his intestines spilling out in ropy hot coils, and then the monsters surge toward Morty!

[GM Note: Kent graciously allowed me to kill his character after he had moved away. We discussed some options and settled on this one. That is actually (half of) Kent’s face in the picture above].

Chang spins into the alley and starts shooting. Neville backs off, debating if magic is appropriate here, but reluctant to cast anything. Magic demands a grueling toll, corrupting both your body and spirit. Back at the café, Oscar Ochenta has casually packed a pipe full of his last hashish crumbs, even as gunshots echo from the darkness. Ma’Moud looks up at him, obviously frightened. “Tough town, kid,” grunts Oscar, and lights the pipe.

After a brutal barrage of ammunition, the ghouls are soon destroyed, their bodies quickly decomposing, crawling with sickly white maggots that also slide into goopy residue. The glowing Eye of Horus fades and disappears. There is no time to drag Arnold’s mangled corpse through the streets, so they strip him of anything valuable, Chang murmurs a prayer, Janwillen is hauled up by his armpits and they shuffle back to his dirty hovel.

They don’t know where the zombie-things came from, or how or why they appeared. Someone must have set traps around the city to target them, and it looks like a potent spell. Chang and Morty cannot help but recall Arnold’s nightmare before leaving London. His death this evening seems eerily familiar…

They spend the night crowded in the tailor shop, too scared to leave, barricading entrances with furniture and ready for anything. Even Oscar Ochenta joins them, and he only met these bastards a few hours ago! He doesn’t question their odd actions, or the cats, or why Morty has blood all over him, or why they insist on staying awake with their guns loaded. Hell, he’s seen this behavior before. It is common in the drug trade.

The night passes without incident, but in the morning, Janwillen Vanheuven has actually forgotten who they are.

“Eh? What ya want wid me?”

But promises of liquor, money, a place to continue his translations, and haven from the cats are easy incentive for the Dutchman. The investigators offer to take him to the Cairo Museum, sure that Dr. Ali Kafour can find the man an empty room to continue his work. All they want in return is more information about the Clive Expedition, and possibly an interview. No, definitely an interview. They want Janwillen to lead them to Memphis. That is the payment for giving him a safe place to complete his translations.

And to acquire the book for themselves, which becomes their new goal.

Janwillen agrees, so they hand the original Rites back to him and they all leave, tromping across town to the Cairo Museum. Hopefully, Ali Kafour won’t mind what they’re proposing to do.

On the way to the museum, Oscar "Ocho" Ochenta notices the withering stare of a beautiful Egyptian woman. His heart flutters from her beauty, her sensuality, but she vanishes into the crowd, and no one else seemed to notice her.

Odd, considering her attire. But how fleeting love is, he thinks. She’ll be back for ol’ Oscar. Ocho mentions that a fine woman was watching him, but they don’t make much out of it. Oscar hasn’t proven himself a reliable companion yet. In fact, he’s sort of creepy.

At the museum, Dr. Ali Kafour is mildly surprised (and annoyed) that the investigators have brought this drunken, slovenly man as a GUEST into the museum. “This is not a boarding house!” he whispers later when Janwillen is out of earshot.

“No,” says Neville Thornbottom, “but these are dire times, sir. In fact, doctor, I would like to suggest that we all stay here. There are several storage rooms in the basement that can be converted. After two attacks so far on these gentlemen I fear that it could happen again. And this…Vanheuven fellow…he needs time to decipher the script. Plus,” he adds slyly, “Someone else can help decipher the scrolls while Janwillen is passed out. Good Lord, the man is in a stupor sixteen hours a day!”

Ali Kafour is finally convinced to agree with Neville. The Rites are a major archaeological find, and it IS dangerous running around the city, especially at night. The Museum offers a small amount of magical and material protection. He has the staff rearrange the basement; long enough for the investigators to complete their search in Cairo. Ali also hires someone to translate the Rites of Bast while Janwillen is “sleeping.”

The investigators help Janwillen set up a new room complete with writing utensils and a bottle of bourbon. He thanks them profusely, saying that with their assistance he’ll soon wield the most fabulous discovery of the century-- The Black Rites of BAST!

“Yeah, wonderful,” mumbles Morty. He’s heard about enough of this crazy . Boring detective work in New York City never sounded better, but he’s needed here. Something big is happening, and they’re the only ones who know about it.


continued next post...