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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - North Docks Charging headlong down the corridor, Harry closes the distance to bury his bayonet against the mass of the monster as it pursues Izoldah; the creature rounds on the man as his blade fails to leave lasting harm. Lashing out wildly at the man, Harry narrowly avoids a barbed blow before the amalgamation begins to scramble back toward the ventilation grate whence it came, mouths gaping and heads lolling. In its parting, Harry delivers a fierce jab that sends the horror staggering--before it redoubles its retreat with alarming alacrity; Ronnie manages to squeeze off another pair of rounds at the thing, but yet it still moves. Izoldah and Victoire remain as the fused mass of man and meat leers wildly, beginning to clamber and haul its way back into the ceiling before their eyes. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks With the bulkhead secured, at least presently, traces of the creature grow scarce; further rifle fire can be heard to resonate across the open span of the docks--while Sgt. Barton-Morewood gives the call to regroup and turn attentions towards brothers and sisters in arms further away beyond the workshops. It's a call which leads to hesitance for Irakliy, having traversed partway into the hall to the Command Centre and Armoury; at the corner of the corridor itself, Sgt. Willis can see the still-raised blast door and bulkheads beyond for the Armoury proper. Harry charged, connected, but failed to deliver meaningful damage; 'Hanz' elected to boogie back to the ducts though, provoking another jab from Harry that, after the newly gained benny was burned, struck home and left it Shaken. Ronnie fired another double tap, but the dice just weren't there for him to make good on a wound. Izoldah and Victoire remain before 'Hanz' makes a great escape forthcoming. South team is still out of initiative, still with no sign of the creature there. Anyone who elects to endeavor to rendezvous with the north team can close the distance in the equivalent of two rounds on their end. Anyone who proceeds to the Armoury, Command Centre or Radio room can be there this round and have an action to gain entry if desired.
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Oct 7, 2016 07:25
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - North Docks From across the docks as the others move to close the distance, that second amalgamation is glimpsed on the precipice of the northern ventilation system; Victoire's shotgun punctuates the air with another blast, buckshot pellets sluicing their way through the meat and biomass of the fused horror as it begins to ascend into the ductwork. Tendons, muscle fibers, fat and innards rip and tear, giving way their tenuously strained connections as the perforation of the shotgun's payload shreds among it--before a great deal of that bulk sloughs apart to collapse against the deck of the northern dock with a rattled gurgling wail of a sound no creature should ever breath. The smell is horrific. Hanz just couldn't keep it together and made an awful mess. Vigor test for anyone in the vicinity to avoid losing their breakfast; the northern creature otherwise seems to be eliminated.
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Oct 7, 2016 14:26
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Docks Stooping to gather a slimy, foul-smelling sampling of the creature, Victoire feels the pulpy meat is rather cool to the touch and clammy--with a viscous film of rank phlegmy muck clinging to its surface. Standing over the remains, Victoire is struck by the degree of rampant necrosis which has gripped the bulk of the horror's form around the majority of its mass; one can only conclude that the components of the abomination were, at least predominantly, not living tissue. Taking her sample, Victoire stuffs it into her former water bottle. As Ronnie, Izoldah and Harry arrive at the scene, the aroma continues to prove nearly overpowering. Above, a few ragged trails of torn skin and tissue dangle from an edge of the open duct--while the porous concrete of the docks have sopped up a saturation of juices sweating off of decaying tissue, the ripened excess of rotted organs and viscera dribbling gooey, sickly trails that have begun to spread from the settling mass. Not moments after Victoire's sample is stowed and the matter of burning the thing enters discussion: there is movement among the mass before a lump surfaces from beneath a sheet of sallow, pallid flesh. Squirming free, the stretched and sunken remnants of a head pockmarked with buckshot begins to loll along the dock, pulled by tendrils of veiny viscera as a portion of a malformed spinal column and a collapsed lung trail in its wake. Nausea test for Izoldah, Harry, Ronnie and Victoire. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 19:32 on Oct 7, 2016 |
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Oct 7, 2016 19:18
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Docks Sloughed free from Harry's bayonet, the remnants of the creature are doused and set alight; low flames flicker and lap as the alcohol burns--but the grisly leftovers of the thing are more than a little moist--making the matter slow. Still, as the rest of the team rendezvous together, a plan is formed: together, the eleven men and women of the strike and auxiliary teams proceed back along the docks toward the blast door to the command centre and attached facilities. Across the facility, the lights flicker briefly as the diesel power systems fluctuate, briefly plunging the group into darkness save for those scant few flashlights. As the lights flicker back on, a metal clattering is heard across the span of the three docking bays--nearer to the magazine and vault on the other side, though obscured by the scuttled wreckage of the submarine. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Armoury Ambience Making haste, there's little time to be wasted as the group rounds into the access corridor for the map room and command centre. An open ventilation duct still hangs over the map room to the north, another in the radio room to the south--while maneuvering through the blast door at the end of the hall, the three bulkhead doors for the armoury become apparent. Splitting between the three and opening the way, the remainder of the armoury is found to be in a similar state--there are sparingly few remnants of the German firepower still remaining for the most part, with emptied racks and shelving for weapons and munitions. A few assorted implements of German weaponry are found after digging. In the final armoury, as rummaging shoves a rack aside, a very particular pair of heavy backpacks and arsenal are recognized: two Flammenwerfer 41s, german flamethrowers. Once more the lights flicker--longer this time--before a great deal of shifting mechanisms and machinery is heard; it would seem that a power fluctuation has triggered the reset of systems throughout the facility once more. Simultaneously, all of the blast doors begin to close--the lights continuing to flicker sporadically. You've found two flamethrowers. Caution: contents volatile and extremely dangerous. Flammenwerfer (FmW) 41 (2d10, 45' cone, RoF 1, Minimum Strength d6, Ignores armour.) x2 You've also discovered: Luger P08 (9×19mm) (2d6-1 12/24/48, RoF 1, Shots 7, Semi-Auto.) w/ 1 spare magazine Maschinenpistole 40 (MP40 9×19mm) (2d6-1 12/24/48, RoF 3, Shots 32, AP 1, Auto.) x 2 w/ 2 spare magazines Sturmgewehr 44 (StG-44 7.92×33mm) (2d8-1 24/48/96, RoF 3, Shots 30, Minimum Strength d6, AP 2, Auto.) w/ 1 spare magazine Stick grenade (StG24) (3d6-2 05/10/20, Medium Burst) x2 GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 04:42 on Oct 8, 2016 |
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Oct 8, 2016 04:12
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Command Centre Access Laden with new arsenal, the team begins a hasty withdraw from the armoury as the blast doors steadily descend; though slow, the last few of the group have to duck their heads past the first of the two blast doors once they past. Boots pounding a serenade around the concrete floor of the corridor, Sgt. Barton-Morewood and his compatriots move for the corner at the end of the passage towards the egress to the docks. Overhead, the darkened grate looms with ductwork beyond, strange slithering and scrabbling noises thumping, echoing and shuddering among the creaky byways in the ceiling. As the first of the team reaches the end of the hall, finding the second blast door ahead--lowered by a third already and steadily humming along--a loud BANG sounds as the sheets of metal lining the wall quake with an impact from the other side. BANG! BANG! BANG! The panelling rattles and shakes, bludgeoned outward as it warps, rivets popping a centimeter free in places. From above, an unidentified liquid trickles down from the ductwork and splatters over Ronnie's shoulder. The lights flicker as a buzzing tone sounds. BANG! BANG! BANG! the sheets rattle as bulbous imprints hammer free from their surface--something quite large working to force its way through the very wall. Yulia, Bradley and Harry are the first three to the docks--followed by Grace, Ted and Irakliy; Izoldah and Sebastian round the corner with Ronnie as BANG! BANG! CRASH! a seam between panels ruptures, bursting partway open as a slimy tendril lashes out in a blind, groping sweep--nearly catching Sebastian by the leg before the academic manages to scramble out of the way in time. Ducking quickly under the door, Sebastian emerges on the docks--while the rapid CRACK CRACK! of Ronnie's rifle blows apart the base of the exposed tendril, severing it as the larger mass withdraws behind it with an unearthly howl. Lashing and twisting about, the severed limb writhes on the floor as Victoire rounds the corner. The blast door separating the command centre from the docks has lowered halfway now. Flailing and writhing, even severed, the tendril begins to sweep after Victoire--before a rifle CRACKS! as Izoldah delivers a decisive shot, blowing apart the center of the thing's mass--and clearing the way for the woman in its wake. As Dicky follows up the rear behind Victoire, a great thudding can be heard overhead--before a glance over his shoulder to the ductwork at his back spies a horrific visage leering back at him: at least six distinctive faces of men in anguish, agony, anger and confusion--fused about the grisly muzzle of a warped German shepherd, rivulets of drool trailing from gnarled jaws. Lights flicker, creating a strobe effect of the thing's twitchy movements. Several arms begin to foist the great mass squeezed in the ductwork free, pursuing the pilot. Sgt. Barton-Morewood was in grave danger. Wheeling on the creature, Dicky's rattled burst of Sten fire peppers the vicinity but doesn't slow it; the charnel amalgamation swipes viciously at the man, tearing a ragged path through his uniform--but Sgt. Barton-Morewood manages to muster away to narrowly avoid the barbed bone puncturing flesh beneath, extricating himself with haste. As Dicky rounds the corner to reach Victoire, the monster can be heard fast on his heels. Victoire, ducking back whence Dicky came, spies the great mass of fused and warped corpses sloughing free of the duct--and continuing to emerge, enormous. Unphazed in her already retreated mental state, the woman fires her shotgun into the great mass--sending it reeling momentarily as it looses another gurgling sound; an opportunity to depart, however slim, presents itself. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Buzzing sounds again; the blast door's descent is steady and inexorable. Izoldah's shot rings out, while a great ruckus can be heard in the thundering and thudding of the space over the command centre. Terrible sounds emanate from the ductwork, another grate to such evident over the power station's access bulkhead. The lights flicker as the power fluctuates once more. Another clattering can be heard from the northern end of the docks. After an alphabetical lottery saw Sebastian the 'lucky winner', he managed to succeed at an Agility test to avoid Franz grabbing him thankfully. Shooting double-tap on Ronnie's behalf exploded damage to sever the tendril entirely. Victoire, Ronnie and Dicky are still in the corridor. Dicky is due a Horror (-2) test and is in imminent danger. Franz and Dicky are around the corner, and not currently visible to anyone who emerged safely on the docks. Dicky can attempt to fire upon Franz, but will assuredly be in range of retaliation if he does not manage to at least Shaken it. Victoire and Ronnie can presently escape the corridor without incident, other than noting that the tendril is going to attempt to grab Victoire in passing as it flails about (it will make a Fighting attack.) Or, rather, it would have--if Izoldah didn't beat Franz on initiative and hit the deck for a successful Shooting (by the skin of Shogeton's teeth!) for an excellent damage roll of 18. It is currently only practical for Victoire or Ronnie to intervene on Dicky's behalf if they so choose--anyone else who re-enters the corridor is assured that they will be unlikely to exit again before the blast door fully shuts. If Victoire or Ronnie elect to engage Franz, they will also need to make the Horror (-2) check upon seeing its current form. At the current height of the blast door, it will lower enough that someone can only crawl beneath it in two rounds. It is about 20 feet from the door to the corner, and Dicky is five around the other side. Edit: Raptor resolved post-update, Dicky attempted to fire on Franz but didn't connect, Franz got a free swing at him when he moved away, hit + dealt enough for one wound, Dicky used a benny and successfully soaked the wound, thus also avoiding being shaken, and is free to move. Dicky's movement this round puts him around the corner with Victoire. Further resolved after the fact that Victoire went back, made her Horror check, and fired on Franz. Solid hit with the shotgun, Franz is Shaken at the moment. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 16:32 on Oct 10, 2016 |
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Oct 10, 2016 15:42
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Command Centre Access Sgt. Barton-Morewood and Victoire make their hasty exodus, covered by S/Sgt. Thomas in their wake; as the commando begins to withdraw in kind, there is a sharp CRACK! audible behind him--well-exercised reflexes snapping into action as Ronnie ducks his head a fraction of a second before a long whip of serrated bone slices over top of his position, gouging the sheet metal before him. Shaken, but uninjured, Ronnie is able to bolt for the lowering blast door to duck and roll beneath it--that surging monstrosity behind him. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks With Ronnie through, the blast door is nearly shut--but gazing upon the horror beyond, it has clearly... changed, since it was encountered in the power station. Seconds to go before the way is barred, the team can hear it approaching--and some, see its surging, writhing bulk. Bellied down, Harry is the first to fire on the thing when it come sinto view, adrenaline bristling as the big man fires his rifle--landing a round that bursts one of the faces fused to the thing, splattering gore across the back of its bulky mass. As Izoldah lays eyes on the thing her senses seize--frozen in place as she finds herself unable to pull the trigger, those many eyes gazing back at her from beyond. Presumed Ronnie's spur of the moment actions due to FractionJackson being a it indisposed; Ronnie succeeded his Horror (-2) test, but drew slower than Franz in initiative. I presumed that Ronnie would have otherwise spent the first round making sure Victoire and Dicky make it out. Franz recovered from being shaken by Victoire's shotgun blast. Franz swung on Ronnie, hit, but rolled terribly on damage (Which for Franz, was still 9) and left Ronnie Shaken, but not Wounded. Since you can still move while Shaken, Ronnie was able to bolt from the corridor and clear the way. Anyone who wants to take pot shots at Franz and is freshly witness to its 'improved' state will also need a fresh Horror (-2) test the first time they lay eyes on it. The blast door will be low enough to require being prone at the end of this round, and closed at the end of next round. Izoldah failed the Horror test and became Frozen in Fear: She is Shaken, and gained 2 -> 4 Dementia due to doubting thomas. Izoldah is at 6 Dementia against 7 Sanity--razor's edge there! Resolving Harry prone on the other side of the blast door, working his rifle. No snap fire penalty since he hasn't been moving, he made the Horror test and landed a decent hit--which then dealt excellent damage. Franz Shaken + one wound. Neglected to mention earlier, but Harry recovered from the Fatigue dealing with Hanz. Remaining initiative order doesn't particularly matter for resolution order; Franz has gone for this round.
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Oct 10, 2016 17:10
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Steadily descending, the blast door narrows its gap--but the monstrous creature surges swiftly toward it with a terrifying furor. Sebastian and Bradley both fire upon the thing, munitions peppered against its fleshy form--the crack, snap and pop of gunfire ringing out, some shots landing true--others sailing into concrete or steel. Bellied down, individuals are left to face the thing head on; drawing back, Harry brandishes a hand grenade, pulls the pin and sweeps to toss it underneath the door... ...before the grenade bounces mid-roll, ricocheting sharply back from the blast door itself before sailing over and among the group. With the detonation, as bodies scramble to get clear amid shouts, Victoire, Sebastian, Ronnie and Dicky are caught in the periphery of the detonation. Bradley hits, but rattles off a measly 6 damage even with a raise; Franz don't care. Sebastian hits, dealing better damage--but failing to overcome the big amalgam's Toughness just the same. Next round, everyone beat Franz on initiative save for Ted and Grace. You must be prone to fire at this point with how low the blast door has gotten. Harry tossed a grenade, failed the roll, random deviation bounced it right back towards the party; since we're abstracting without a grid here right now, Savage Worlds calls for a random number of group targets hit per size of the template; Harry rolled 4 total on 2d4 and alphabetical lottery determined our four 'lucky winners'. The good news is, the grenade 'only' dealt 12 damage--which is not pleasant, but not the end of the world. It -is- enough to both hit and raise the toughness of anyone in the group though, which means Shaken + one Wound. If you were prone, you have +2 armor vs. the 12 damage; if you weren't prone, you can make an Agility test of 4 to drop prone in time to receive this benefit (this would specifically benefit anyone with 7 or 8 toughness, since then it would only Shaken them, instead of Wound them.) Any of the four (Ronnie, Sebastian, Dicky, Victoire) can spend a benny and attempt to soak the wound--which is a Vigor test, minus any current ongoing penalties, attempting a target number of 4. Success means avoiding the wound and Shaken condition both. The rest of you are free to fire. Even Ted and Grace can tee up actions they'd like to take. As a reminder, Franz is so big that you are +2 to shoot it. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 07:18 on Oct 11, 2016 |
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Oct 11, 2016 06:53
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Shrapnel zips about as the fragementation grenade detonates, managing to catch several present--while Dicky hauls himself bodily with a surge of adrenaline, diving clear of the brunt of the blast. Gathering himself up to his feet once more, a great BANG! resounds from the lowering blast door as the monstrosity collides its bulk against it from the other side--before a tendril lashes out from below, raking across Harry with alarming reach. Thrashing, flailing, the horror looses an unearthly cacophony of moans and gasps--a muscular tendril lashing in a sweep to graze over top of Ronnie then before drawing back. Underneath the door, now a mere foot from the ground, Irakliy can see those faces gazing back at him. The lights flicker off and on, hearts pounding and heads spinning as gunfire rattles and crackles across the southern docks. Everyone gets a shiny new Benny. Ronnie made an Agility test automatically on FractionJackson's behalf and succeeded, hitting the deck; this gave him +2 armor versus the grenade detonation, pushing him to 10 vs. 12 damage, resulting in Ronnie being Shaken but not wounded. Dicky managed to avoid a rube-goldbergian sequence by an impressive Agility roll with two raises since the dice seem to like A_Velociraptor. Irakliy made his Horror (-2) test and failed, but only got the Shaken result with a follow-up determining he gained 1 Dementia. Franz went, utilizing its handsome Reach to take a swipe out--this time taking a swing at Harry with the luck of the draw. Franz hit with a raise, dealt a total of 21 damage. Spending his new benny before the update even hit, Harry soaked two of the three wounds, resulting in being Shaken with one Wound. Top of the round, Franz went first, swiped at Ronnie and hit with a raise; only 9 damage, but as Ronnie is Shaken still, that will translate into a wound. It's up to FractionJackson if he'd like to spend a benny to preemptively drop Shaken (so he just becomes Shaken again) or takes the hit and spends a Benny to soak (if he's successful at the soak, he will also drop Shaken as an added bonus.) Since this is only one wound and not going to change the outcome otherwise, I'm leaving that up to FJ this time. With the door lowered as much as it is, Franz has Heavy (-4) cover vs. standing targets and Medium (-2) cover vs. prone targets. Franz AC, Dicky KD, Sebastian QS, Izoldah QC, Ted JS, Ronnie 10D, Victoire 9H, Irakliy 6S, Grace 5C, Yulia 2S, Bradley 2D, Harry 2C
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Oct 11, 2016 17:03
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Cracking, rattling pops sound off as the strike team pours munitions under the blast door's descent; Izoldah fires a round from her rifle she is certain landed among that tortured charnel mass, even as Irakliy landed another round. A burst from Bradley's Sten gun joins the cavalcade of gunfire, along with revolvers still reporting; squaring off to either fore of the group, Sgt. Barton-Morewood and LCpl Manahi let loose streams of flames, lighting up the southern docks as those tarry sprays spread beneath the blast door to bathe the corridor beyond in fire. Horrible wailing sounds out as the creature roils with the assault. Spying an opening, Sgt. Willis snaps a shot off he's certain penetrates deeply among those myriad fused faces. Having rallied from the gantries, Victoire rushes back to belly down and fires her shotgun beneath the door, buckshot scattering to clip the lip of the heavy barrier before peppering a spray among the meat of the monster beyond. Machinery whirring, the door lowers further still--and lapped by flames, the behemoth horror begins to withdraw. Sighting down his rifle, S/Sgt. Thomas braces and fires a double-tap which bursts open the centre of the creature's conjoined skulls in a blossom of bone fragments and gore. From beyond the precipice of the blast door, all present can hear a guttural wheeze in chorus before a pulpy gurgle churns, a great meaty slap heard as its bulk collapses into the spreading flames, which smoke as they swiftly rise to begin consuming the thing. The blast door slides shut with a heavy CLACK, machinery growing still. For a moment, there is a tense peace as wide eyes observe and pulses race. No further bounding or thudding emanates from the ventilation ducts. Again, the lights flicker as the diesel generator struggles to maintain power. A buzzer sounds; faint wafts of smoke escape the ventilation duct over the bulkhead to the power station. Sebastian belatedly soaked his wound successfully, and also shed Shaken in the process. Izoldah fired and hit Franz, but only rolled 8 damage, which is insufficient to wound Franz at its current beefy stature. Irakliy fired a burst and hit with a raise, but the damage failed to stick. Presumed that Bradley fired, but missed & busted. Ronnie rolled to soak the wound from Franz and was successful. Harry and Dicky moved in to use two flamethrowers, with Harry taking the nozzle from Izoldah's vicinity and taking a multi-action penalty. Harry's blast was not particularly successful (net result 0 for the target Franz needed to avoid it.) Dicky's fire was much more impressive though, with a target of 14 to avoid the area attack. Franz did not avoid the attack from Dicky, which dealt 11 damage, resulting in being Shaken. Presumed that Ted took the opportunity to fire, aim canceling out cover bonus; damage was solid on hit with a raise. Ted dealt damage sufficient to Shaken Franz, who was already Shaken--so it rolls over to a Wound. Franz gets to 2 Wounds. Victoire fired, hit with her shotgun, damaged for enough to potentially seal the deal on Franz; Franz spent a GM Benny to soak, then a second GM Benny with half-success to soak one of the two wounds. One GM Benny remains, Franz is Shaken at 3 Wounds in the end. Ronnie had to reload last round; fires with his double tap, scoring a hit with enough damage to stick. Franz spent the last GM Benny... failed to soak, reaching 4 Wounds and finally being taken out. As the blast door closes, the corridor beyond is seen on fire--Franz's remnants roasting along the way. Well done, gang. We are out of initiative.
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Oct 11, 2016 19:23
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Taking a cursory look around, with some searching a fire-fighting pump and hose setup is discovered near the gantries on the docks; a high-pressure pump has been bolted to a heavy wheeled rigging with a lead-in line that can be draped down into the waters of the submarine pen. The pump appears to run off of a diesel engine--and even seems to have already seen relatively recent use, supported by the heavy scorch marks from a fire on the north side of the docks.
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Oct 12, 2016 00:05
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks Ambience With the fire hose drawn from its spool, the blast door to the command centre whirs with hidden machinery as mechanisms begin to raise it once more. Black smoke unfurls from beneath the door as flames become swiftly evident, a wafting wave of cloying heat escaping to those nearby; joining this is the sharp smell of charred meat, sizzled fluids and scorched bones among other more chemical aromas--a dizzying bouquet. Lights flicker overhead, the buzzing sounding again--before a grinding click sounds off with a loud ratcheting CLANG; the blast door comes to an unceremonious halt with the screech of unseen tracks eight inches raised from the floor. Murphy's laws seem to dwell prevalent over the station: the blast door's mechanism has apparently chosen now to burn out. Harry has room enough to spray the hose beneath the door--but entrance and egress from the corridor beyond would be something of a squeeze for any making their way through now. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Power Station Rounding the access corridor once the bulkhead door has been opened, Sgt. Willis and Dr. Khulanova find their senses assaulted by smeared streaks of rotten meat still clinging to the porous concrete--joined as well by smoke and other wafting odors making it difficult to breath. Sweeping the corner, the way into the power station seems clear--the bulkhead beyond still ajar. Lights flicker inside, smoke sputtering free from a few portions of the control instruments. After a brief assessment, Ted finds repairs could be affected again--but the continued operation of the power subsystems for the submarine base were liable to be on borrowed time. These repairs would require some additional tools and parts--but Ted and Yulia had spied both among the Workshops. Every time a blast door opens or closes in the Station, a card is drawn--they have a downright random chance of just burning out due to disrepair and failing systems. Now happened to be the time for this door to draw the Black Joker, with some impeccable timing. Ted finds the power instruments have been damaged from when Franz tried helping operate them. He can make a Repair test; if he meets a 4, he can relatively stabilize the systems barring some periodic power fluctuations for approximately an hour. If Ted manages a raise to 8, double that--and doubled again for each additional raise. Repairs this time will require some more tools--but he already recognized more or less everything he needed back in the Workshop. It isn't particularly onerous to have them brought over or retrieve them himself, just some extra legwork (no rolls or whatnot are necessary, as long as someone is tasked with the job, it will be done.) Victoire heals Irakliy of one wound but not both; Irakliy has one wound remaining, which is beyond Victoire's capabilities. (You get one shot at Healing wounds successfully per medical practitioner; the results are considered the best of their ability.)
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Oct 12, 2016 07:26
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - South Docks After a few minutes of operating the hose with no shortage of steam unfurling from beneath the blast door, the flames seem to have been quenched--though the lingering heat is still notable. Whatever twisty remains of the creature lay charred in the concrete corridor are left with a terrible smell--but bellying down to take a look beneath the door, no apparent movement stirs. Once the way is cleared, with a bit of bravado and a squeeze, passage beneath the blast door is achievable, opening the way to the command centre and map room once more. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Command Centre Access Without the horror shambling on the move, it is clear now that its particular mass must have been comprised of at least seven adult humans--along with other, less readily discernible biomass. Once he has navigated his way past the gruesome remains, Sgt. Barton-Morewood reaches the map room and finds to some relief that the broader map is still largely intact. There is some smoke damage, but with a bit of effort the man is able to retrieve the pertinent span of the map. Afterward, fairly certain there is nothing else of value to be cleaned from this wing of the base, Dicky returns to the southern docks. With power relatively stabilized and the fire suppressed, the team is left with fairly open access to the rest of the facility. The rest of the personnel wing of the base remains to be explored, along with the stores, magazine, scuttled sub and remainder of the vault. To this end, you're essentially on your final sweep for the base--there are simply things that may or may not be missed, so it's down to your approach for scouring the rest of Hoffmann Station--and whether or not you can defeat Dimitry with his newfound cosmic power. Dicky succeeded at a Nausea test from the gruesome remains of Franz.
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Oct 12, 2016 19:06
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Personnel Wing With tasks sorted and destinations mapped, the team separates to tackle their respective sections of Hoffmann Station, making due haste as the power station's click ticks down. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Operations Sweeping into the northwest quarters of the station, the first stop is the Operations room opposite the corridor to the main entrance of the base. Within, there are signs of having been dedicated to logistics and submarine operations--with smatterings of equipment and debris suggesting the presence of materials to such an effect. Irakliy is able to spy burnt fragments of order sheets and logbooks among the ash on the floor--though the destructive departure of the Germans have rendered most indecipherable. Still, the team is able to recover a number of partially complete materials which appear to be codified with cryptographic efforts--candidates for academic deciphering. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Medical Even from the doorway, it is clear that Hoffmann Station's pharmaceutical and medical facilities have been stripped bare during the apparent withdraw from the base. A few tables and chairs remain in the wardroom, mostly lying in a twisted pile at the western end of the room. Nothing else of value or interest is found after a prolonged search. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Officer's Mess Rounding the corner of the corridor, the sweep team enters the separate officer's mess hall; unlike the larger mess adjoined to the barracks, this room seems to have been cleaned and tidied during the departure process. While the air is a touch stale, the presence of rotted meats and vegetables--and their pungent aromas--are absent. Taking a few moments to search further, Izoldah makes the discovery of a prize pair of bottles packed away in one of the cupboards: two bottles of fine Cognac. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Commander's Quarters Opposite the officer mess, the sweep team enters what seems to have been the quarters of the Hoffmann Station's commanding officer. Though predominantly spartan and stripped of most of its furnishings, a search of the vicinity finds a stuck desk drawer--upon opening which, Izoldah finds a second discovery. Within, an SS dagger sits in a black leather sheath, accompanied by a small case with a monocle inside. As well, a copy of Signal magazine is found, its cover portraying the proud silhouette of a German officer gazing skyward as a sky filled with Luftwaffe craft flies by. Markings on the floor suggest the desk had been moved aside at various points, while dark brown stains carry a faint smell of copper on the air. Beyond this, nothing else is found here. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Officer's Quarters Proceeding further northward, the sweep team finally checks the last few rooms--four separate officer's quarters, it would seem. Though less sparse than the barracks accommodations had been, the facilities in these four rooms suggests a modicum of comfort and privacy for U-boat captains and other officers of the base. However, nothing beyond bedding and spartan furnishings seems to have been left behind in the wake of the base withdraw. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Stores Checking the stores on the northern side of the docks, the rooms have been fully emptied of supplies and cargo--occupied only by a series of steel-framed shelves now. Here, the Germans have been quite thorough. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Magazine Behind heavy steel doors, the magazine boasts heavily reinforced concrete and steel chambers. Within, a considerable number of torpedoes are still in storage--even more than mere munitions supply; it would seem that the Germans may have purposefully stripped departing submarines of ordinance in order to increase their cargo capacity. A majority of the munitions still remaining appear to be G7e/T3 straight-running torpedoes--but three T4 Falke acoustic homing torpedoes have also been stowed. Additionally, the magazine rooms hold a considerable stockpile of 88mm high explosive shells suitable for the deck guns of submarine craft and other vessels. Beside one of the racks of 88mm shell boxes sits a Sten gun in the absence of ordinance. Sweeps and searches have been made throughout the northwest portion of the base, as well as the stores and magazine, consolidated for conciseness here.
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Oct 12, 2016 21:56
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Commander's Quarters Ambience Having further thoughts about the base commander's personal quarters, Yulia persists to linger, taking a longer look at the remnants of whatever strange practices had transpired. Studying the patterns as she reflects back on her prior studies of the occult, Dr. Khulanova reaches first the more readily evident conclusion--that some sort of bloodletting had been performed, as apparent as it is from the stains--before further coming to realize a subtle... pattern to it all. After some assistance is garnered, the heavy desk is shifted and manuevered. With the span of concrete brought fully into view, the stains seem to further suggest that some sort of porous mat had been previously present over the spot--and small flecks of candle wax can be found still clinging among the concrete itself. Ultimately, Yulia extrapolates that a ritual of some sort was almost certainly performed in this room--and there are similarities of the spacing and placement of its now faintly remnant components that it may have had parallels to various pagan or druidic 'summoning' practices tucked here and there among annals and accounts. It's during this process that something catches Yulia's eye about the wood of the desk, an almost imperceptibly subtle skewing of wood grain built into the body of the desk. Pursuing the skewed grain thoroughly, an extraordinarily well-hidden compartment is discovered built into the wood of the desk itself within which Yulia retrieves a leather-bound book with yellowed pages. Das Todtenbuch; it seems rather old and somewhat delicate. Yulia spent two bennies in the process of her Investigation and Knowledge Occult checks--but blew away her own Notice when scouring the room with a whopping 14. With a hit and two raises, she has discovered a very well-hidden compartment--and with it, the team's first Mythos Tome. Das Todtenbuch is written in German and seems to be fifty years old or more; it is in and of itself a study on the Egyptian Book of the Dead by German Egyptologist Karl Lepsius, originally published in 1842. While not one-of-a-kind, it is exceedingly rare nevertheless. Studying a Mythos tome is an arduous and time-consuming process, but is the path to special Occult knowledge and the elusive Knowledge Mythos--albeit at the cost of one's sanity or more. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 06:55 on Oct 13, 2016 |
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Oct 13, 2016 06:39
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - The Vault Freed from the looming menace of imminent monstrosities and aided by relatively steady station power and armed guards, the academic team tasked with the vault are able to tackle its scattered, tattered and thrown-about contents with renewed vigor and eyes peeled. In the twenty minutes it takes for the sweep team to finish clearing the personnel wing of Hoffmann Station and while Dr. Khulanova makes her exceptional discovery in the commander's quarters, the remainder of Bradley's team is not without their own breakthrough findings. Sebastian unearths a bound collection of documented reports which correspond with a number of the earlier findings regarding Nachtwölfe research--among which even a cursory perusal suggests frightful experimentation utilizing newfound substances and samples for extreme purposes. Among Sebastian's gathered parcels of disparate reporting packets, there are references to having recovered ancient biological materials from deep beneath the sea, among the remote reaches of the Amazon and Siberia alike. Nachtwölfe scientists, having harvested and recovered a worrying breadth of working samples for such purposes, seem to have been performing modifications to tissues both living and deceased. In short, there are numerous portions of reports regarding the development of biological weapons and more--and while seemingly incomplete, there is substantive material for review under longer scrutiny. Bradley's searching turns up an assortment of incomplete packages of notes and documentation--but among his rummaging, he discovers a partly damaged copy of The Complete Works of Tacitus--surprisingly the English edition. Tucked into the recess of a leather satchel, Bradley also unearths a worn manuscript which appears to be written in old Tibetan. It is while Grace is sifting her way through a disastrous pile of crumpled and devastated detritus that she finds a particularly profound discovery: a small, locked attaché case wedged into a corner and half caved-in by a spear of broken shelving steel. With some assistance, Grace is able to retrieve the case after peeling it away from the tacky residue of a pool of dried blood. Once opened by force, within the case Grace discovers a bound manuscript packed together with a pair of aged tomes. Together, the team is able to identify the volumes as copies of the Pnakotic Manuscripts, Hronika Chernoboga and finally De Origine Et Situ Germanorum respectively upon inspection.  Triple stellar rolls from among team vault leads to all sorts of in-flight reading material being gathered for the academics of the crew. You've recovered a veritable treasure trove of tomes--which barring all else, leaves the academic team with an ample backfill of brainy arsenal with which to approach the quarrelsome quest of contending with the Mythos to be found down south. So! You've got Mythos Tomes to contend with moving forward, and a number of folks who may or may not want to hazard studying theme. Studying mythos tomes is a fairly involved process that predominantly tests your Smarts (if written in your native language) or your mastery of different languages. For these purposes, languages gleaned with Linguist are d6. I've noted the penalties to the rolls in parenthesis below and as usual, these tests are looking for 4 results. Getting raises can potentially expedite your studies, too. Busting (critical failures) may have negative consequences in some cases. Studying mythos tomes is the only way to gain ranks in Knowledge (Mythos), full stop; Knowledge (Mythos) is used much like Knowledge (Occult) but concerned with the truly eldritch and horrible terrors of time and space; it is also, functionally, the 'spell-casting' skill, should any of you be crazy enough to go digging into trying to learn magic. A given individual can only study one tome at a time, and a given tome can only be studied by one individual at a time. You'll have a bit of a time skip following the wrap-up of Hoffmann Station and Saxemberg Island, which you can anticipate to be about 4 weeks of breathing room. After that, just consider that generally speaking, one test is going to equate to one week of study ordinarily. I am liable to condense this a bit for pulp / cinematic purposes and so that you don't end up completely marooned from ever being able to finish your studies potentially, but know that trekking to and then across Antarctic is not exactly speedy either. That said, you're probably going to want to divide and conquer on these--and may want to put serious consideration into how much of your Sanity you're willing to put on the line. Sanity loss is permanent--the only way to ever increase your Sanity is by taking advances on your Spirit die, and even that eventually hits a cap. Your haul, respectively: Pnakotic Manuscripts Written in English, author unknown, dating back to 15th Century AD. Collectively a single bound manuscript, Bradley and the team recognize that some instances of these materials are purported to be housed in European and American collections. This particular copy seems to include excerpts from the original precursor volume--the actual Pnakotica--which are written in Greek. These materials are claimed by some to trace their origins to the pre-human crinoids who allegedly seeded life on Earth originally. Study: Predominantly requires English (-1) in the total equivalent of 10 tests, with one Greek (-2) test in the mix. Successful study of the Pnakotic Manuscripts conveys a rank of Knowledge (Mythos) with its accompanied Sanity loss, along with the potential to thereafter attempt to study the spell 'contact winged thing.' This is a beefy, beefy read and will take a good deal of time and effort to dig through. The Complete Works of Tacitus Written in English, by Moses Hadas (ed.), and based on the 1876 translation by Alfred Church and William Brodribb, pub. 1942. This is a copy of Random House’s Modern Library collection of Tacitus’ works, including the Germania. Other than offering an insight into how Himmler has distorted the Roman history of the Germanic tribes to suit his own purposes, there is little of an occult nature to be learnt from this version of the book. Study: English (+0) and a fairly light read (one test only); nothing to do with Mythos so much as Occult knowledge, studying this text conveys neither Knowledge (Mythos) nor Sanity loss. It could, however, potentially benefit the reader's Knowledge (Occult)--specifically by providing a special bonus Benny thereafter that the individual can use only for Knowledge (Occult) rolls. De Origine Et Situ Germanorum “Concerning the Origin and Situation of the Germanics”, written in Latin, by Gaius Cornelius Tacitus, pub. 98AD. You can probably glean why they also had a copy of The Complete Works of Tacitus on hand as well, yeah? This gimoire is predominantly cribbed from other works, including Pliny the Elder’s far more explicit and spell-laden Bella Germaniae (c.60-70AD). Here, however, Tacitus’ study of the Germanic tribes consists of forty-six very short “chapters” mostly concerned with the fairly standard minutiae of life in Northern Europe. However, this book also includes rather disturbing material on the nature of the tribes' religious practices. Study: Latin (-1) with a total of 4 successful tests needed to study the grimoire. Upon doing so, the reader gains one rank of Knowledge (Mythos) along with the correlatory loss of one Sanity. In addition to this, however, is the potential to thereafter attempt to study from a variety of spells including '. 4 successful rolls needed to read the book. Spells: 'storm and stress', 'augur', 'speak with darkness', 'speak with the dark mother', 'fever’s pall', 'crushing darkness', 'speak with black toads', 'speak with messenger', 'speak with toad-father', 'curse of the stone', 'the mother’s touch', 'night and fog' and 'speak with winged hunter'. Hronika Chernoboga Written in Old Church Slavonic and accompanied by some translations for German, by monk-rasstriga Grigori Kopteev, pub. c.1470. Printed in Veliky Novgorod. In 1494, Kopteev was burned as a heretic and his manuscript was damned by the Russian Orthodox Church; purportedly all known copies of the work were destroyed. Among the accompanying German translation materials, it seems that this copy was recovered in a Kievan monastery. This book contains information on dark spells, terrible artifacts as well as the inhabitants of the Abyss. In addition, the book describes the underwater inhabitants of the Baltic Sea and contains several summoning rituals--which were of particular interest to the Germans. Study: Old Church Slavonic (-2) requiring 5 successful tests. Successful study of this work increases Knowledge (Mythos) by two steps, along with reducing Sanity by two as well. Additionally, once studied, the researcher can attempt to study and learn spells including 'shape the weather', 'breath of the deep', 'transformation of the bat', 'cause/cure blindness', 'spread disease', 'speak with the dwellers of the deep', 'speak with the Abyssal King', 'speak with the Abyssal Queen', 'ward of flesh', 'mend the flesh', 'seek nightmares', 'raise night fog', 'shadow of the ice walker' and 'snow tomb'. Yulia will be able to identify the other volume Bradley discovered as a very old copy of: Suta Milam Bar-Do Written in old Tibetan, original unknown author, pub. 7th Century. Suta Milam Bar-do describes the mysterious Dreamlands, as well as further functioning as the Tibetan Book of the Dead. These texts appear to include excerpts of the original copies along with samplings of the Faxian translations to Chinese from 680 AD. Study: Chinese (-2) or Tibetan (0) with 8 successful rolls required to study. Successful study increases Knowledge (Mythos) by one step as well as reduces Sanity by one respectively. Additionally, readers may then attempt to study and learn spells including 'bring pestilance', 'implant suggestion', 'summon plague' and other incomplete rituals. Finally: Das Todtenbuch Written in German as mentioned and seems to be fifty years old or more; it is in and of itself a study on the Egyptian Book of the Dead by German Egyptologist Karl Lepsius, originally published in 1842. While not one-of-a-kind, it is exceedingly rare nevertheless. Study: German (+0) requiring 2 successful tests to study. Successfully reading does not convey Knowledge (Mythos) nor does it incur a Sanity penalty on the reader. It does, however, provide the reader with a special Benny that can only be used on Knowledge (Occult) tests.
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Oct 13, 2016 18:29
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 Regrouping on the northern docks, the team approaches the scuttled remnants of the submarine--denoted Ux-824 with some observation. Though a call to attention is made for the deck gun, no sign of an operator is glimpse from the sizable armament--the top of the deck presented in large toward the northern dock as it stands. Presently the vessel lay on its starboard side beneath a loading derrick--its frame having collapsed over top of it. Surrounding the conning tower and forward hatch are evidence of a serious fire, soot clinging around scorched steel. At the fore, cargo doors show signs of explosive damage--and as before, a number of expended Panzerfaust 60s lie strewn among the debris on the docks nearer to the stores. Steeling themselves, the strike team moves to mount and enter the submarine. Finding the way already open, a somewhat treacherous advance into the innards of the vessel find the interior pitch black save for the sweep of flashlights. Inside, with glances cast down long metal corridors with bulkheads hanging ajar, the space is foreboding and still. Moving along, there are extensive signs of the submarine having been stripped of parts--and in places, it has even been stripped down to the wiring, as well as including portions of plating from the hull. Sweeping gazes about, flashlights catch the glint of dark, ruddy red--including a bloody handprint--leading in a trail from the darkened space of the fore of the submarine, where an 88mm shell lay on the floor with blood spattered about. The trail arcs back toward the command bridge.
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Oct 14, 2016 20:45
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 A clatter of metal is heard from the command bridge.
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Oct 14, 2016 20:58
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 With a sudden heightened shift of movement abruptly two bodies appear in the doorway ahead--Dimitry, bloodied, grappling with a man in a German uniform missing a large chunk of his right torso, his eyes giving off a faint glow; the German is choking Dimitry as a hand grips his throat--before the Russian rams his combat knife into the German's chest, burying it to the hilt. Eyes bloodshot and bulging, Dimitry gurgles before he's swung around--body maneuvered to block the narrow passage between the exploratory team and his aggressor. Horror (-1) test for those present. Initiative is: Dimitry AS, Yulia AC, Victoire JH, Ted 10C, Izoldah 9D, Ronnie 7S, Irakliy 5H, Harry 2D. You do not have a clear shot to the German aggressor without risking hitting Dimitry. One could attempt to target the German's head at a -4 penalty to Shooting. Any natural 1 result will automatically hit Dimitry instead.
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Oct 15, 2016 04:54
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 Seized by adrenaline as weapons are raised and aim is taken, Izoldah rushes in behind Dimitry--grasping for the German's hands in their death grip about the Russian's throat--before managing against eerie strength to leverage the poor soldier away from the Nazi, choking and gasping as he is sent stumbling behind the young scout. Interposing herself, the German snarls and swipes at Izoldah with claw-like fingertips--connecting, but only grazing against her uniform. With a CRACK Izoldah's rifle butt seems to stagger the man, leaving her an opportunity to duck aside; in that opening Harry fires, rifle CRACK loud in the submarine's confines--and sending the German toppling over backwards, slumping to the ground in a dead heap. As the din clears and eyes adjust, the sweep of flashlights into the command bridge and navigation brings Ted's eyes to snap to a point of curiosity: installed in the navigation and riveted to the bulkhead is a strange device. Unlabeled, it is nevertheless clearly a later addition to the bridge; dials have been removed and the glass fronts of its various gauges have been broken; as well, a screen has been shattered in a clear attempt to render it inoperable--yet it is structurally still more or less whole. Upon closer inspection, the engineer determines it to be a navigational device of some sort--and a highly sophisticated one at that, with very particular, proprietary calibrations. If such a device could be retrieved intact... Nicely done! German has been eliminated and Dimitry saved. Ted has mustered a Smarts test to recognize something beyond. Ted burned a benny to combat the Night of the 3s and recognized the device for what it is! Dimitry has 3 Wounds.
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Oct 15, 2016 05:37
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 Dimitry gasps for breath, coughing--his face and uniform covered in blood. He speaks to Irakliy in stammered Russian. "I thought to destroy the monster with explosive shells--but here, I found a German in cat and mouse. He attacked me and we fought--but he would not die." Beyond the command deck, the span of the submarine lurks gloomily--open bulkheads, stripped steel plating among the walls; it is clear that the Germans attempted to cannibalize the vessel as much as possible prior to their departure.
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Oct 15, 2016 06:05
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Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station - Ux-824 Together, Ronnie and Harry spearhead a sweep of the remainder of the German submarine while Ted resumes his review of the strange navigation equipment; after some ten minutes of reconnoitering the vicinity, the commando duo emerge confident that any remaining threats--it would seem--have been dealt with. Having thoroughly searched the Hoffmann Station to the best of their capabilities, the strike team and auxiliary group are left to the task of gathering up the spoils of their excursion and putting in a radio report home. Saxemberg Island - Hoffmann Station In the aftermath of so much adrenaline, the placidity of the base itself is almost jarring by contrast. Sgt. Willis' recovery work would take time, in some ways as a race against the remaining diesel generator power; once the blast doors to the surface access hatch are opened, however, the team finds that in the end of it all--the sun has risen over the Atlantic with the dawn of a new, albeit chilly day. Wind whipping against the recesses of that volcanic shore, a radio call is put out--this time successfully. With the all clear, further personnel could be dispatched to recovery the strike team and their accompaniment that further boots on the ground could see to securing and neutralizing Hoffmann Station in their wake. Additional boats would arrive to retrieve the team--before the sixteen hour trek back to HMS Atlantic Isle would commence. There, all present would be debriefed--before given the opportunity for coffee, hot showers and shut eye awaiting further orders and a chance to return home. Given the magnitude of the strike team's discoveries, however--matters would hardly be so simple. ----End Chapter One---- I am punting this a bit for a wrap-up, to tee up the start of Chapter Two with a larger update. What I would like from everyone in between us getting rolling with the next chapter is a kind of combo of introspective wrap-up (you had about two hours waiting around together once the all clear was sounded, then sixteen hours on the ship back to the HMS Atlantic Isle.) before whatever you would like to disclose during your individual debriefings to command. The content of your debriefings can potentially lend bonuses to folks who may be in line for medals or even promotions; each of you can also submit an out of character nomination for an individual or individuals you believe deserve special recognition from Command. I'm also looking for this to be an opportunity for your characters to collect their thoughts and decompress a bit, since events on Saxemberg Island unfolded fairly quickly and many of you didn't have a chance to digest it all at the time. Additionally, between this post and the kick-off for Chapter Two, this is your opportunity to make any final modifications you'd like to your character sheets before we're locked in and I award experience and any advance(s). Any gear you were issued for this mission will be returned to requisition following your return to base. In the meantime, some trailing rolls: Ted can make a Repair test in the conclusion of recovering the navigation equipment. At least a basic success will be beneficial, if he happens to blow it out of the water, all the better. Everyone gets to make a free Spirit test from your success in order to attempt to shed accrued Dementia immediately; you have a +2 bonus to this test due to having found substantial good intelligence to boot. Note that this is a special test and not a fear check or the like, so the +2 is the only modifier that will apply to the roll. A basic success will shed one point of Dementia and each successive raise can shed more cumulatively. Once all of these rolls are concluded, everyone's Benny pool will refresh to their personal default. Finally, congratulations to you all: the entire team survived, including Dimitry, and you managed to recover some considerable findings to contribute to the mission ahead.
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Oct 15, 2016 09:30
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HMS Atlantic Isle Following the debriefings and collective recovered findings from Saxemberg Isle--what should have been a dispersal of the joint strike team and auxiliary instead became a quarantine by any other name. Command staff from Allied and Soviet chains alike determined that those men and women whose incursion unearthed so much from Hoffmann Station would yet remain on the HMS Atlantic Isle pending further word. If nothing else, it was a reprieve for three weeks away from fighting and worse--but restlessness gnawed ever persistently, stewing in uncertainty as to when at long last clearance would be received. Though Harry was denied an opportunity to return home under those same grounds, the man's persistent insistence had won a compromise: Te Hangakore is brought to HMS Atlantic Isle for the man to commiserate with. Efforts are made to treat the remnants of trauma brought back from Saxemberg; gathered articles and information passed on up command and intelligence chains leaves much to percolate on beyond the chilly Atlantic waves. After two days of review following the return, the academic team is given access once more to the articles and tomes that had been recovered for their own perusal, with word that additional study on their findings was being performed abroad. For most, the occasional opportunities to leave the base and make one's way to the villages of Tristan da Cunha's islands offers some modicum of reprieve. Ultimately, the waiting game reaches its conclusion on a brisk, misty morning late in March--beneath a grey, overcast sky. HMS Atlantic Isle, Late March After being delayed for three weeks on the island awaiting their return home, the men and women of the team receive notice from on high that they are to be redeployed. Events from Saxemberg still linger in the minds of all, to some measure or another--but weeks have passed, and with the chance to rest and recuperate only pondering on the delay had begun to prevail. Throughout the two week tenure answers have not been forthcoming--and all inquiries ultimately were informed that 'important decisions' about the next assignment were being made elsewhere. Everyone from the Saxemberg Isle mission is asked to meet with the base commander, Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Woolley, in his office--where they informed that they will be given new orders. Corralled together, the team finds the commander's accommodations a touch cramped; Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Woolley himself is a square-jawed, impressively mustachioed gentleman graying at the temples--who wastes little time commencing once all are assembled. "I'm sure you're all anxious for news--and we've finally received word." The commander begins, standing tall with his arms crossed behind his back. "Analysis of the evidence you've discovered on Saxemberg Island, coupled with additional intelligence reports, has pointed to a heretofore-unknown Nazi base on the coast of Antarctica." Steely grey eyes dart briefly among the faces of those assembled before he continues. "It can only be concluded that this may be part of a plan to carry on the ambitions of the Third Reich past the end of the war. A bid for the long game, as it were--to bloody well boil our blood." Woolley shakes his head. "I'll be blunt: I'm not at all privy to whatever business you lot have had your fingers in," His gaze falls to the academic team in particular here, "but that strange symbol your team found on map--it caused quite an excited stir, it seems. I am told that evaluation of this symbol--coupled with the evidence of those ghastly creatures you reported from Saxemberg, made its way high up the chain." Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Woolley puffs up his chest and takes a deep breath to pause, before he continues. "The War Council has encouraged an immediate, full-scale strike on the German presence in Antarctica. While you've been here these past few weeks, aerial reconnaissance of Antarctica and a survey of German naval activities in the South Atlantic have been underway." Woolley looks to Dicky and Harry then, bristling a tight, wry smile beneath his mustache. "The War Council has been quite busy. Lord Mountbatten has been given Churchill's tacit approval to covertly assemble a multinational fighting force which is, at this moment, en route to Antarctica." He gives a moment for all present to digest this, but continues swiftly. "It's a bloody marvelous coordinated effort, to say the least. Troops have been redeployed from Northern Europe and I've heard rumours that the Americans, Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders," another grin is flashed at Harry before Woolley turns toward Irakliy, Izoldah and Dimitry "and even the Soviets are involved!" Bringing his arms about, Woolley claps his hands together. "So, down to business. Given your considerable roles in all of this coming together, command has informed me that you have been assigned to this strike force in the role of advisors. You're to be airlifted from here to rendezvous with the carrier Jeremiah out of the Falkland Islands--presently underway to Antarctica." A pause. "I'm sure you have questions. I have questions. I will answer what I can." Any academics who want to run with a torch and try to work through some of the recovered grimoires has up to three weeks of otherwise R&R time they can attempt to do so. That is three possible rolls as described previously for studying grimoires. Otherwise, anyone who is taking the three weeks as a chance to recover Dementia: a Spirit test (no modifiers) can be attempted for every 5 days of sleep, food and relaxation. Success reduces Dementia by one, but on this sort of recovery roll raises do not reduce additional Dementia (unlike the post-mission high roll). Anyone with Knowledge (Psychology) can also attempt to treat someone who has suffered Dementia. A therapy session takes about four hours or more, after which the therapist can attempt a Knowledge (Psychology) roll; success will recover one point of Dementia, but rolling a one will give the recipient an extra Dementia instead. Additionally, the HMS Atlantic Isle is staffed with a fully functional medical facility and Chaplain. Anyone with wounds left over from Saxemberg can make a free Healing test with a d8, minus their wounds as a penalty, per five days (e.g. you can make up to four recovery attempts.) Success eliminates a wound, raises will eliminate a second--but a single attempt can only recover two wounds. The base Chaplain, as well as Te Hangakore for Harry, can also provide some psychological succor to help treat Dementia, with d6 Knowledge (Psychology) rolls each. Medals awarded for your first mission: Victoire has received a Citation for Bravery. Dicky has received a Distinguished Service Order. Harry has received a Distinguished Service Order. Ronnie has received a Bronze Star. Ted has received a Bronze Star. Irakliy has received an Order of the Patriotic War, 1st Class. Izoldah has received a Medal for Valour. Everyone has received 10 Experience, taking you to 30 total. That is two new Seasoned advances. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 16:32 on Oct 18, 2016 |
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Oct 18, 2016 16:28
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HMS Atlantic Isle - Commander's Office Addressing Grace, Commander Woolley inclines his head. "I believe there will be a sharing of intelligence in this operation's little brain trust, Miss Flynn." Looking to the rest of the academic auxiliary, the commander gestures broadly. "Not really my demesne, as it were--but I'm sure you'll give it what for, eh?" Blinking, Commander Woolley straightens and holds a finger up. "Ahh, yes--that reminds me." Woolley steps over to a small corner safe in his office before reaching to pull a lanyard from beneath his uniform blouse, a key dangling from it. Opening the safe, Commander Woolley retrieves a small, unmarked envelope from the top shelf before handing it to Bradley. "Received this in the packet of re-deployment orders with instructions to pass it along." Within the envelope, Bradley finds a small key on a steel chain--perhaps to a small safe or lockbox. The key appears to be British made, but carries no other distinguishing characteristics. Looking then to Izoldah, Commander Woolley lifts his shoulders in an emphatic shrug. "Can't really say for sure; personally I think Sergeant Barton-Morewood is a fine gentleman and performed well in command, but this is a complicated arrangement. I'd consider him such, until such a time as you may be informed otherwise, eh?" He crinkles a brief, tight smile before looking to Harry. "So far, the mission is to re-deploy to the Jeremiah and serve as advisors to the operation there." He offers--though his expression certainly suggests sharing in the frustration of so succinct a line. Turning to address Ronnie in kind, Commander Woolley crosses his arms behind his back once more. "Training, planning, logistics; right now, your team has provided crucial intelligence to commence this operation as I understand it. Personally, I'm skeptical about the scale of it all: if the Germans truly have a base on Antarctica, I would suppose it is likely just a supply or arms depot--or perhaps a remote outpost for Nazi officers to go hide away after the war." He shakes his head. "Orders, however, are orders. If the War Council wants your team in the mix, I do suppose you've earned the chance eh?" Woolley smiles wryly at this. "Speaking of teams, however--you should know: 'The worst is yet to come' for Jerry." He eyes Ronnie, lifting his chin. "Included in the correspondence was word that the 1st Special Service Force has been reinstated for this operation." Belatedly, Dicky finds a stirring of thought regarding the mentioned carrier, the Jeremiah: having flown from his share of British carriers during the war, the pilot realizes that he's never actually heard of one by the name Jeremiah among the British navy--and for that matter, it seems rather conspicuous that it lacks 'HMS' as the prefix. Thoughts shift further--before Dicky is struck with a pang of realization from the periphery of his memory: there had been some mention of a Jeremiah attached to some mysterious project--but beyond that, no more is known. Common Knowledge (-2) test prompted for our Brits was knocked to a hit and a raise by Dicky, so he's made a curious belated realization..
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Oct 19, 2016 15:40
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HMS Atlantic Isle - Commander's Office Commander Woolley raises his brows a touch at Dicky's question, jaw set. "I'm afraid this is the first time I've heard of this Jeremiah myself. Just about bloody everything regarding this operation is being doled out on a need-to-know basis--and I'm an outsider in that category." He offers a wry smirk at that.
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Oct 19, 2016 16:16
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HMS Atlantic Isle - Commander's Office Commander Woolley gives a brief chuckle to Harry. "Concurred." Looking to Dicky, the commander grins. "Seems the Americans are ferrying you lot to the Jeremiah, but I made a point to give them an elbow--you'll be co-piloting, at least." Straightening, he addresses the gathered group as a whole. "Unless there are further questions, you have one hour to gather your gear and assemble at the airstrip, ready for redeployment."
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Oct 19, 2016 16:31
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HMS Atlantic Isle - Commander's Office Commander Woolley looks to Irakliy, lips drawing thin for a moment. "If what I've gathered from the limited information I've been given is correct--the scale of this endeavor is considerable. It would seem to me that the War Council is operating under an intent to address a threat of vast magnitude--otherwise, a joint operation like this is almost unthinkable." Lifting his chin, the mustachioed officer considers. "I believe that no expense is being spared." Looking again to Ronnie then, Woolley nods once. "You're to be liaisons of a sort." A glance is cast to Harry as well in this regard. "To ensure that Jerry is given his comeuppance."
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Oct 19, 2016 18:33
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HMS Atlantic Isle - Commander's Office Ambiance Commander Woolley nods to those assembled, straightening before her throws a smart salute. "Best of fortune to you all, then-- and give Jerry my regards. Dismissed." HMS Atlantic Isle - Airstrip Scarcely an hour to pack and prepare for the trip southward, abreast of revelations myriad--yet restrained. Cold wind buffets the men and women of the team as they walk across the HMS Atlantic Isle's air strip, forceful enough as if it were attempting to push them away; personal belongings, however sparse, are toted along with what gear and equipment would be taken--but with most designated to be distributed as necessary by requisition, packing is predominately keepsakes and their ilk.  On the runway, a ground crew can be seen attending to a U.S.-built Douglas C-47 Skytrain "Dakota" cargo transport--and from the looks of things, they're readied for immediate takeoff. A man wearing a cold-weather pilot's garb makes his way over to the group, throwing a salute for the fighting men and women before introducing himself. "I'm Captain Richard Whitaker." Clearly American, by his accent. "I'll be accompanying you. Your pilot," he says, turning to gesture towards the cockpit where a man can be seen going through the pre-flight checklist, "Is Lieutenant William "Bill" Peasley." Glancing about, Captain Whitaker looks to Dicky. "You must be our co-pilot." The mustache was hard to miss, after all. "Aircraftmen Standish and Blake will be our radio operator and navigator." He adds further, mostly for Dicky's benefit it would seem. Gesturing toward the opened cargo door to the plane, Captain Whitaker begins to walk as he ushers the team along. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, ladies and gentlemen--I hope you've packed for cold weather!"  Once boarded, aside from various cargo, the interior of the Dakota is almost empty. With a 30-person capacity for transport, the dozen members of the team have been left a fair bit of room. Stacked along the side-mounted benches of the rear are a dozen heavy, fur-lined military-issue parkas along with stocking caps and two stacks of neatly folded thick wool blankets. Captain Whitaker walks down the aisle, gesturing as he goes. "Make yourselves at home, change if you need to and buckle in. Sergeant Morewood, you're up front." He nods further along. From the cockpit, Lt. Peasley shouts back. "Weather permitting, our flight is going to take just over eleven hours!" Already the engines are rumbling loudly. Captain Whitaker escorts Dicky toward the cockpit, introducing the man to Standish and Blake along the way--both men on loan from the Royal Air Force like himself. Cargo in back appears to be foodstuffs, cold weather gear and medical supplies primarily. Once everyone is on-board and seated, the C-47 promptly takes off--taking a brisk clip down the runway before gaining altitude; the aircraft steers away from Tristan de Cunha's volcanic peak before easing up into the clouds. Following roughly a minute of climbing, the plane manages to rise above the cloud layer as stark sunlight reflects into the cabin. Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Not long after takeoff once the plane has leveled off, Captain Whitaker steps back from the cockpit and reenters the cabin. "Apologies for the haste--we're on a tight schedule for our rendezvous." The man carries in his hands a briefcase with a pair of handcuffs, one locked to its handle. With a tight-lipped smile Captain Whitaker approaches Bradley before nodding down. "Sorry Mister Gewitt, I'm going to have to attach this to you." And we're off! The gang managed to pretty much exhaust Commander Woolley of any info he had on him, so not much else to be gleaned there. You've got a loooong flight ahead of you folks, so time to buckle up, get cozy, and try not to go nuts. Still, it's a chance to chit-chat a bit--and you're liable to have some in-flight reading material shortly. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 20:00 on Oct 19, 2016 |
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Oct 19, 2016 19:42
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance Captain Whitaker affixes the handcuff to Bradley's wrist neatly--and not too tightly, at that. With a nod toward the handcuffs, he notes. "Keys to those are on my person--and in the care of someone at your destination. As for the briefcase, what's in it is none of my business. My orders are to leave you to yourselves while it's open--and under no circumstances are I or anyone else in the flight crew to discuss the contents with you." Casting a rather serious look about the cabin, Captain Whitaker concludes with a nod. "Right then. Briefcase is now in your custody; when we arrive, you're to deliver it onward to your new commanding officer--whoever that ends up being." After a pause, Captain Whitaker gestures along. "There are thermos bottles with hot coffee along with some sandwiches over yonder, if anyone's hungry. If you need a smoke, let us know. Otherwise, I've got to keep this door closed when that case is open. Knock twice if you need me." With that, Captain Whitaker excuses himself from the cabin, closing the door behind him. Bradley finds the briefcase to be of fairly sturdy construction--and surprisingly heavy, to boot. It is secured by a key lock.
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Oct 20, 2016 05:52
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance Testing the key he'd been given earlier, Bradley finds it fits and unlocks the briefcase readily. Within, Bradley finds a flat metal box made of grey enamelled steel; the box is plain, without markings--resembling a conventional safe deposit box such as one might find at a bank. Cursory movement reveals a rustling sound within the box, as if it were full of papers. The metal box is secured with a key lock. A lock which Bradley's key also fits.
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Oct 20, 2016 06:10
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance With a click, the metal box is unlocked--lid opening on a swivel latch. Inside, Bradley finds three manilla folders, each marked with distinctive EYES ONLY designations the man recognizes from use by the SOE's Section M. Additionally, the case contains a thick manilla envelope rigid with a metallic object inside. Each of the folders is titled with crisp labeling: PABODIE STARKWEATHER-MOORE RITSCHER Each of the folders appears to contain transcripts of successive expeditions to Antarctica, with the fourth including an extensive translation of originally German reports. Within the manilla envelope, Bradley finds a flat metal disk stamped with a swastika; it looks as if it was at one time affixed to a pole of some sort, but cut cleanly off at the base. A small tag is attached to the disk by a string, identifying it as having been taken from "Neuschwabenland."
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Oct 20, 2016 06:16
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance Reading through the folders, Bradley and Grace both quickly discover their depth and materials to be quite dense--but through cursory skimming and review, are able to relay more concise awareness of the expeditions to Antarctica--and their decisively unusual findings. PABODIE EXPEDITION - EYES ONLY In 1930, the Miskatonic University backed a much-publicized scientific venture to venture to Antarctica; the expedition's namesake, Professor Pabodie, had devised an ingenious new innovation in drilling methodology via a very capable yet also transportable apparatus could be utilized for deeper samples of the Antarctic terrain. Ostensibly, the goal of the expedition was to uncover new fossil evidence and to expand knowledge of the icebound continent--and by extensive, knowledge of Earth's geologic history. The nominal leaders of the Pabodie Expedition were Professors Pabodie, Dyer and Lake--all from Miskatonic's alumni.  While the beginning excerpts of the report mostly concern themselves with the long journey and incremental weather along the way, highlights soon arrive upon an astonishing initial find of fossil evidence sufficient to stir the expedition to a change of plans: splitting into two, a forward group led by Professor Lake proceeded in pursuit of new findings, while their base camp was held by Professor Dyer. After encountering an immense, unusually-shaped mountain range that purportedly dwarfed the Himalayas, Professor Lake's group reported discovery of a cavern containing an astonishing array of bones--as well as a group of fourteen carcasses in the form of actual ice-preserved specimens. quote:“Appears to indicate, as I suspected, that earth has seen whole cycle or cycles of organic life before known one that begins with Archæozoic cells.” — Prof. Lake Expounding on this substantial find, the report indicates that Professor Lake's team were able to recover the fourteen specimens from the subterranean cavern--six of which were in a damaged state, while the remaining eight were indicated to be in pristine condition. Upon returning to his camp, Professor Lake is purported to have conducted a rudimentary autopsy on the specimens, reporting the results back to Professor Dyer's group--but the details of such strained credulity, for the creatures biology defied conventional understanding by established scientific knowledge. Of the specimens, Professor Lake wrote: Six feet end to end, three and five-tenths feet central diameter, tapering to one foot at each end. Like a barrel with five bulging ridges in place of staves. Lateral breakages, as of thinnish stalks, are at equator in middle of these ridges. In furrows between ridges are curious growths – combs or wings that fold up and spread out like fans... which gives almost seven-foot wing spread. Arrangement reminds one of certain monsters of primal myth, especially fabled Elder Things in the Necronomicon. Following the autopsy report, contact with Professor Lake's group was lost. A rescue party dispatched by the remaining group reported discovering the forward group's camp in ruins and worse. Though severe weather had been nominated as the initial cause of dropped communication and subsequent loss of manpower--all but one of the men was reported as having been butchered horribly. As well, the sled dogs of Lake's team had been similarly slaughtered; earlier in his reports, Professor Lake had noted that the dogs would not abide the recovered specimens and barked ceaselessly in their vicinity. Professor Dyer's team initially concluded that a missing scientist by the name of Gedney was to be blamed for the deaths--presuming that he had gone mad and become murderous. Dyer's team discovered six star-shaped burial mounds had been created in the snow, housing the remains of the six damaged carcasses of those strange specimens--while the remaining eight were reported as missing. After burying the dead and pursuing sealing off the cavern in which Professor Lake's team had discovered the specimens, Dyer ordered his team to seal off the wrecked campsite and prepare the expedition for a retreat. Professor Dyer is then reported to having been accompanied by a graduate student by the name of Danforth in order to perform a reconnaissance flight in examination of the mountain range Professor Lake had reported earlier. Here, the report begins to veer into increasingly concerning elements. According to the report, Dyer and Danforth discovered that behind the mountain range was an ancient, massive alien city--concluded by the pair to be older than any vestige of recorded human knowledge, preserved for unknowable eons in the ice. Professor Dyer called for a landing at the site, wherein he and Danforth are then reported to having discovered some sort of museum full of murals left by the strange elder specimens--which they concluded to be the city's likeliest inhabitants. Professor Dyer reported the murals having depicted the creation of the 'elder thing' city--aided by creatures best described as enormous masses of chaotic tentacles and tendrils--atop a vast subterranean abyss. Dyer further indicates in the report that these murals seemed to chronicle biological experimentation performed by the 'elder things'--including the apparent genesis of humanity. Additional murals purportedly portrayed some sort of terrible conflicts between the 'elder things' and other alien, unknown species--while also depicting a growing autonomy of the tentacle creatures until they became entirely independent. Dyer and Danforth seemed to conclude that the quality and styling of the murals then began to deteriorate, as if the 'elder things' were regressing somehow--before ultimately portraying some sort of exodus or migration out of the Antarctic city to some other dwelling deep beneath the sea. Among all the murals and Professor Dyer's more extensive notes, however, is an apparently prominent presence in the collective portrayals that asserted that the largest mountain in Antarctica was home to some sort of primeval being of unimaginable power. Professor Dyer likens this being to a god, feared by the 'elder things'. After further exploration, Dyer and Danforth reported discovering a sled with the missing man, Gedney--as well as his corpse, purported to have been clinging to a dead sled dog for warmth or comfort. Following this discovery, the men reported being alerted by sounds--before realizing that the 'elder things' from Lake's camp were almost certainly not dead at all and had instead, in fact, been the perpetrators of the massacre at the camp. Professor Dyer indicates that the beings must have been in a sort of hibernation of potentially tens of thousands of years. From here, there are excerpts of the report that are more difficult to follow; at times, included notes also pertain to extensive sketches and other evidence, some of which has been purposefully excised or redacted. Reportedly, Dyer and Danforth continued to explore the city before arriving at a giant passage of some sort which led to a vast subterranean sea as depicted in the murals. Here, Dyer recounts discovering the eight 'elder things' along with evidence of a recent fight--during which they had been slaughtered as viciously as the men and women of Professor Lake's expeditionary party. Among the darkness, Professor Dyer and Danforth indicate that they discovered some form of enormous mutant penguins, blind and placid, as if serving as cultivated livestock for some sort of unknown predator. In pursuit of an egress in the dark, Dyer and Danforth purportedly encountered a horrible creature formed of a bubbling black abhorrent fluidic mass full of eyes and covered in tendrils, as depicted in the murals. Professor Dyer and Danforth were only narrowly able to escape the monstrosity before managing to flee back to their airplane. Dyer and Danforth reunited with the rest of the expedition, calling for a swift and immediate departure from Antarctica. The truth of what befell Professor Lake's group was suppressed in the expedition's original reporting and most of the information was kept under wraps--prior to the study now in Bradley's hands.  Each of the reports can also be studied in order to gain Knowledge (Mythos), though this is also at the usual cost of Sanity in the process. The reports can be 'safely skimmed', which is the presumption for the summaries you are gleaning above.
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Oct 21, 2016 06:11
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance  STARKWEATHER-MOORE EXPEDITION - EYES ONLY In 1933, despite adamant warnings to relent from Professor Dyer following the Pabodie Expedition, the Starkweather-Moore Expedition was mounted following the footsteps of their earlier work--seeking to uncover firsthand the previous group's findings and, as before, to further scientific research in the Antarctic region. Helmed by British world explorer James Starkweather and the American geologist William Moore, both men with experience navigating harsh environments and having traveled in the Himalayas and even the Arctic ice cap--they intended to return to the cold interior of the Antarctic and finish what Professor Lake had started three years prior. Unlike the Miskatonic-backed Pabodie Expedition, however, Starkweather and Moore faced competition in the form of two rival expeditions: the Lexington Expedition, a well-funded group led by an American industrialist, and the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition dispatched by the German government. Within the report are detailed accounts of the Starkweather-Moore team contending with scandal, death, arson, sabotage and storms leading up to their initial arrival in Antarctica--weathering through it all in pursuit of their expedition. Once they had arrived, the team set up at the site of the Dyer-Lake expedition's original base camp before making preparations to embark to the interior. Purportedly, an explosion at the Lexington group's base camp caused conflict initially--though afterwards, the two expeditions apparently elected to join forces and press onward. A forward group was sent forth led by Starkweather to stake out the site of Professor Lake's camp; there, the report--emphasizing that the Starkweather-Moore team had not been privy to the true details of the Pabodie Expedition's report--indicates that Starkweather discovered a buried 'elder thing' and proceeded to dissect it, with similar findings to Professor Lake. Thereafter, Starkweather's forward team rediscovered the cave Professor Lake had spoken of in his transmissions back to Professor Dyer's camp--which had been noted in the original, publicized transcripts send back to Miskatonic University--minus details, at the time, that had been suppressed about the otherworldly findings within. Here, however, the report proceeds to incorporate additional information retrieved from the German Barsmeier-Falken Expedition, apparently recovered by MI6 operatives: the German expedition also arrived at Professor Lake's camp and began its own process of discovery, albeit with the aid of unexpurgated testimony from Professor Lake's ill-fated expedition. With the additional angle of the recovered elements of the Barsmeier-Falken report, it is indicated that the leader of the Lexington Expedition cut a deal with the Germans to collaborate--instead of the prior arrangement that had been reached with Starkweather-Moore. Corroborating both reports, it is documented that both the Lexington and Starkweather-Moore groups elected to send planes over the mountain range to seek the apparent ruined city of the 'elder things'; Starkweather's planes landed, but reported finding no signs of the Lexington Expedition's plane. Here it is reported that Starkweather's team made camp in the ruins--before chilling first-hand accounts are included that the team was apparently beset by sudden resistance from the city's apparent original inhabitants. These 'elder things' purportedly captured members of the expedition, including James Starkweather himself. A search party is dispatched from the remainder of the Starkweather-Moore team, who manage to meet up with the Lexington group's exploration plane; together, the two teams indicate having entered a stranger tower--some sort of monumental edifice erected by the 'elder things'. Much as had been noted in the Pabodie Expedition's report independently, here the second report also notes discovery of murals depicting the fate of the 'elder things' and their ancient society--with more than a dozen men and women present to account for such. As before, the teams discover a horrific creature within the city--but unlike Dyer and Danforth, they are not so fortunate in their encounter. Included in the report is a grisly testament to the visceral casualties the tentacled monstrosity rendered--as well as indication that the creature seemed impervious to the firearms of the expeditionary members. Afterward, the survivors of the search party who managed to escape reportedly emerged from the ancient city only to discover that two maddened members of the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition had stolen one of the planes in an attempt to race back to the camps and civilization. Given the discoveries the teams had made, it was concluded that if the world were to learn of what lurked beneath the Antarctic ice, consequences would be dire. Making haste, the survivors raced after the Germans intending to stop them 'by any means necessary.' Upon returning to the site of Professor Lake's camp, the survivors reported having found it in ruins; the maddened Germans were pursued then back to a temporary camp, where they were confronted. A sudden blizzard arrived, however, snowing in the men and women at the site. It is unclear what became of the Germans at this point in the report--and other details are scarce during the blizzard. However, a rescue party, dispatched from the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition's base camp, is able to penetrate the conditions and arrive in relief for the surviving members of Starkweather's party. According to the report, these survivors mounted a further rescue attempt for those left behind--among them, Lexington and Moore themselves. Apparently at this time the 'elder things' arrived in a savage attack, during which the casualties were severe as a deadly battle ensued. Another relief plane was dispatched by the Barsmeier-Falken team, retrieving what survivors remained at Professor Lake's ruined camp. Once those who remained made their way back to their original base camp, they account having swiftly readied for their departure. Initially, the report seems to conclude here--but an addendum is attached that notes that during the return voyage, their vessel was beleaguered by a strange 'aquatic life-form' which ran amok, causing further damage and injuries. Together, the crew were able to drive the thing off--though details are sparse, at best. It is indicated that the surviving members of these expeditions swore to secrecy--and much as the Pabodie Expedition had been, testimonies were heavily redacted, suppressed or discounted as madness. Independent from the heart of the Starkweather-Moore report, this file then indicates that the German government began their own investigation into the fate of the Barsmeier-Falken Expedition--but due to political turmoil and upheaval at the time, more immediate action was placed on indefinite hold...
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Oct 23, 2016 12:47
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Ambiance RITSCHER EXPEDITION - EYES ONLY In 1939, a German expedition performed a survey of a coastal region of Antarctica's Queen Maud Land, thereafter renaming it Neuschwabenland after their ship, the MS Schwabenland. As the third German expedition to Antarctica, its publicly stated goal was securing a potential port for the lucrative whaling industry, as such could prove vital to both the war effort as well as German commerce. Two prior expeditions had been conducted between 1902-3 and 1911-12--with the latter having been an unsuccessful attempt at crossing the icy continent.  Under the guidance of Kriegsmarine Captain Alfred Ritscher, the third expedition proved highly successful: surveying much of the region by air, they were able to mark flight paths for future return expeditions, took thousands of color photographs and mapped the terrain to a degree that had never been accomplished prior. While the expedition's purpose was primarily indicated as commercial, securing the region was of marked strategic importance and a driving concern throughout the sensitive text of the report. While surface details were public knowledge, here the file includes information previously suppressed and recovered with great effort by operatives. Ritscher's expedition members reportedly discovered the remains of the disastrous Pabodie Expedition while surveying, which soon afterward led to the discovery of an 'elder thing' constructed tower--though Ritscher and his men do not seem to have recognized it as such, marveling at its architecture and construction. Purportedly, Ritscher's team discovered several mysterious, sizable blue crystals. Unbeknownst to much of Ritscher's expedition team, however, this was not a discovery made by chance: according to highly secretive material accompanying the recovered report, Ritscher's planes had been equipped with apparatuses designed to detect emanations from the blue crystals--and many key members of Ritscher's team were in fact Nachtwölfe loyalists. It would seem here are further instances of the 'Blauer Kristall' referenced in materials from the vault. Discovering the 'elder things' tower was seemingly a byproduct of their pursuit of searching out these blue crystal formations. There is some excitement in the report regarding such, as apparently unlike such crystal deposits found elsewhere in the world, these were near to the surface and--climate aside--would prove relatively easy to mine in large quantities for their use. Within the tower, Ritscher's team report having discovered clues pointing at the existence of a larger settlement nearby--the city of the 'elder things' read about in the two prior reports, it would seem. In their cursory exploration of the tower, the more secretive documentation indicates a member of Ritscher's team excitedly concluding from evidence present that the site could prove to host vast power that the Black Sun could potentially exploit. Lacking the resources to explore further, however, Ritscher's Expedition is reported to have returned to Germany with their findings after using reconnaissance flights to drop thousands of aluminum rods marked with swastikas across the countryside. With these, the secretive documents indicate, they would have marked concentrations of blauer kristall deposits in preparation for a return visit. From this point, there is a clear separation from the public accounts for all three reports--and highly sensitive intelligence recovered, it would seem, during a clandestine operation affecting a castle stronghold in Germany. What followed was anything but reassuring. Reports of Ritscher's discoveries swiftly reached the ears of the Nazi party, who clearly recognized what it meant and were quick to act. Noted in these highly secretive documents are principles named as Reinhardt Weissler, Exarch of the Black Sun, and Mina Wolfe, high commander of the Nachtwölfe division. Each were quick to act, orchestrating an operation of frightening scope and ambition. Within the report, Hoffmann Station was reinforced and greatly expanded to serve as a way-point on a shipping route to Antarctica for Nazi vessels. Nachtwölfe technology was utilized to mask radio signals and submarine activity underneath the noses of the British listening post at HMS Atlantic Isle. Having established relatively undetectable passage to and from Antarctica, U-boat missions were conducted with impunity and began to act on behalf of Black Sun and Nachtwölfe. Reportedly, the tower Ritscher discovered was excavated and fully explored, thoroughly cataloged and documented while the nearby blauer kristall was harvested. According to the report, Reinhardt Weissler concluded from study of the tower that a 'God in the Mountain' was present in Antarctica--which he believed to be an avatar of 'Yog-Sothoth, the Black Sun'. Weissler seemingly believed this to be the culmination of the Black Sun organization's pursuits--and began a call for all members of the cult to proceed to Antarctica in due haste. Meanwhile, the report indicates that Mina Wolfe and the Nachtwölfe took a more pragmatic view of their discoveries--seeing the city of the elder things as an unusually accessible and vast supply of blauer kristall with which they could accelerate the development of weapons of war truly capable of assuring global Nazi victory in the war. Massive transport submarines are indicated to have begun ferrying men and materials through Hoffmann Station to Antarctica, operating in complete secrecy--even, it seems, to many within the Third Reich. Here, in the team's hands in the back of the Dakota transport, is one of the most closely-guarded secrets of the war. Galvanized by their discoveries, the two rival secret organizations, Black Sun and Nachtwölfe alike, were united in their cause. Reinhardt Weissler is reported to have elected a 'Black Sun Master' by the name of Armin Thaler to oversee operations at a hidden base. The contents of the report seem to defy belief--but those same-such secret German documents detail that under Thaler's supervision, members of the Black Sun began conducting sorcery, experimenting with opening 'dimensional gates' and apparently succeeding in establishing a portal between Antarctica and Wewelsburg Castle in the Rhine region. It is indicated that the portal was dangerous and unstable--but considered a worthwhile risk, and that the 'unexpected arrivals' were a 'manageable' problem. Nachtwölfe are reported to have constructed a hidden airbase for Luftflotte Antarktika to protect the continent from any airborne assaults. Nachtwölfe is indicated as having begun preparing experimental war machines to defend against possible ground-based incursions, further supplemented by contingents of Wehrmacht forces. With such heavy support and the ancient tower secured and quantified, the report seems to veer into noting the efforts by Black Sun and the Nachtwölfe to begin fully exploring the ancient city beneath the ice. According to the report, they have encountered the elder things and begun engaging in active battle with them--bringing heavy firepower and their extensive knowledge of the occult to bear. Already, by the end of the report, the Black Sun and Nachtwölfe had begun to unearth tremendous discoveries beneath the ice--a possible salvation in the face of Allied forces. More worrying, however, are the indications that Weissler seeks to awaken whatever lies beneath the ice. If the Black Sun and Nachtwölfe succeed, the fate of all mankind may be at stake. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 04:42 on Oct 24, 2016 |
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Oct 23, 2016 23:21
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Into the Wild Blue - Dakota Transport Following the more broad review of the documents and the concerning matters therein, the team is left to their own devices within the cargo bay of the Dakota transport. Within, there are benches individuals can stretch out on in an effort to get some sleep--but beyond the smattering of coffee and sandwiches available, there is little else to linger upon beyond the contents of those fateful files. After six hours of flight, it grows quite dark outside the plane; with the cabin cold and the engine noise loud, it proves decidedly difficult to manage any restful slumber. Chapter 2: The Floating Kingdom Ambiance Jeremiah - Arrival Twelve hours after takeoff and departure from HMS Atlantic Isle, the Dakota transport begins its descent into the cloud cover before dropping down through to the night sky below. At the fore of the aircraft, Standish begins to signal for the Jeremiah's location--swiftly answered with a set of coordinates which the man passes along to Blake. Flying through near-pitch darkness, the Dakota rumbles on--a pervasive chill lingering about the passengers of the cabin, clinging devilishly. It is then that off in the distance a light appears on the horizon, where the obsidian plane of the ocean greets the velvet dark of the sky. Captain Whitaker steps into the cabin, raising his voice to be heard over the rumble of engines. "Looks like our destination is in sight, ladies and gents. If you'll direct your attention outside, you'll find... quite the sight." Peering out into the gloom as eyes gradually adjust, it becomes apparent that the lights originate from a huge structure that must be an island of some sort--though a strangely shaped one. However, as the Dakota draws nearer, the 'island' is revealed to be, against belief, an aircraft carrier after a fashion: by far the largest superstructure of a vessel any present may have fathomed before.  Below, the vast vessel's hull appears to be a dully-colored substance, rather than steel--with its deck fashioned of a similar material. A British flag flies over the deck of the great craft, while mist or steam surrounds it on all sides, as if it were being vented from countless places all along the hull. Two destroyers flank the massive carrier on either side, one bearing the flag of Her Majesty's Navy while the other bears the stars and stripes of the United States. All three vessels appear to be stationary, presently. Jeremiah - Flight Deck Standish makes the call in to gain clearance--and upon it being granted, the Dakota swoops to spiral in for a landing on the deck of the massive carrier. Rumbling down a long runway, the Dakota gradually slows to taxi to a stop--after which ground crews close in to hustle around it, while Standish and Blake begin to commence their post-flight tasks. Captain Whitaker steps back, moving to open the door for the team before throwing a salute. "It's been a pleasure, sirs." He says crisply, moving then to assist with unloading luggage from the plane. As the men and women of the team disembark from the Dakota and set foot on the flight deck, a boffin garbed in heavily insulated coveralls steps forward and throws a smart salute. "I'm Warrant Shipwright Embry. Welcome to the Jeremiah, ladies and gentlemen!" With boots on the deck, it is clear now to any with an eye for such a measure that the flight deck of the Jeremiah must span nearly seven hundred meters in length and another hundred and fifty meters in width. Roughly a fifth of the flight deck's surface is covered with a mix of metal sheds, Quonset huts, exterior vehicle hangars and gun turrets. To the fore and aft are veritable 'islands', while massive turboelectric generators can be glimpsed at each corner. Across the flight deck, landing strips are covered in corrugated steel plating dashed with gritty soil and sand to prevent icing up. Even now, at this hour, there are more than a hundred sailors hustling about the deck--while wisps of fog swirl and unfurl about the perimeter of its surface. At the fore, the 'island' boasts telescope-ringed spotter decks and what appears to be an enormous RADAR configuration--with the flickering sparks of torches visible as teams apparently work even now to continue installation and setup. Embry glances about briefly before spotting the briefcase attached to Bradley's wrist, giving a curt nod toward the man. "Excellent. The lot of you are expected--there's a briefing in progress, started an hour or so ago--so you'll have to forgive our haste. I've been sent to fetch the lot of you. We'll have time to stow your gear and see about the 'grand tour' afterwards." He gestures loosely at this, before waves for the team to follow him. "We can talk as we go." A couple of you guessed the surprise early, but the Jeremiah is, in fact, the fruits of Project Habakkuk made reality. Seems the Allied and Soviet joint forces have brought some wild experimental know-how to the fight too!
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Oct 26, 2016 17:55
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Jeremiah - Interior Ambiance Embry leads the way across the flight deck with the new arrivals en tow--together passing a number of hangars in which curious eyes spy the likes of British Spitfires, Mosquitoes, Fairey Swordfishes and Lysanders as well as American-made P-51 Mustangs, M-24 Liberators and C-47 Dakotas--among other, more myriad aircraft. Among one of the open hangars, Irakliy even glimpses an assortment of armored fighting vehicles and tracked arsenal being worked on, including a Vickers T-15 tank being retrofitted. Descending into the vast vessel below deck, those assembled find their surroundings to be markedly chilly; glimpses down corridors in passing and through opened bulkheads show numerous crew working at a near-frantic pace affecting construction throughout the craft--the efforts to ready it for combat seemingly still actively underway. "Jeremiah's made of 'pykrete.'" Embry offers along the way, gesturing loosely. "It's a composite material, made up of ice and wood pulp. Stronger than steel, drat near indestructible." Embry flashes a wry grin at that. "Sir Geoffrey Pyke, clever bastard--this thing is largely his brainchild." "Watch your heads." Embry points, a brace with low clearance in the passage helping to set a new series of conduit and piping lines. "Jeremiah was built in a fraction of the time--and cost--that it would normally take to put a conventional aircraft carrier together." Embry notes further, a half dozen crewmen easing past the group in passing. "The whole thing was originally mothballed a while ago--but when everything stirred up in Antarctica of all places, it was resumed in all due haste." Following Embry's lead, the group is lead rapidly through the bergship's corridors, all while passing a full compliment of sailors, engineers, technicians and others on their way. At last, the team arrives at a door labelled "Briefing" immediately adjacent to what appears to be the officer's mess. Just outside the door, Embry pauses, brow knitting: the walls and door are not thick enough to muffle loud voices coming from inside. Nose wrinkling, Embry casts a look about to the group. "I wish you luck, ladies and gents." He opens the door, ushering those gathered within. Jeremiah - South Atlantic War Council Inside the briefing room are a dozen men in various uniforms standing together, momentarily interrupted by the new arrivals. Even still, the air is rife with tension from what seems to have been a vigorous debate. Among those already present in the briefing room, the vast constellations of medals, insignias and badges decorating their uniforms clearly mark those present as the commanding officers of several Allied powers and branches of service. Several tables have been fully covered with maps and files--while the largest table is dominated by a map of Antarctica.  A projection screen has been setup on one of the walls, with a small film projector on a stand nearby, presently idle. Though most of the chairs have been pushed back against the wall, only one man is currently seated--the sole person dressed in a suit, rather than a uniform. A German shepherd sits on the floor off to one corner, chewing on a lengthy braided piece of rawhide. With so many men of substantial military rank present, a great deal of saluting is an inevitability which comes to pass--and after several long moments of such, the seated man stands up and interjects. "Alright, that's quite enough of all this formality." There are a few chuckles--and a few grim expressions. Unfazed, the man introduces himself. "I'm Geoffrey Pyke, and I'm here because you're all standing in my work." He smirks, then begins to address the others assembled in the room--the first of whom elects to introduce himself and he squares his shoulders smartly. "Commander Martin Groves Bell, Her Majesty's navy; I'm the officer in charge of Jeremiah and have been tasked with all fleet operations during our assault on Antarctica." Direction is cast as further introductions are made. "Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd of the United States Navy--our highest ranking officer aboard Jeremiah. Due to his extensive knowledge of Antarctica, he will be in direct charge of the actual assault force once we arrive." Among any present, Ronnie recognizes Byrd all too well--the man was famous as a veteran explorer of Antarctica, for having been the first man to view both of the polar ice caps--and a beloved celebrity and all-American hero. "Lieutenant-Colonel G. Egerton Mott, chief of the Services Reconnaissance Department of the Allied Intelligence Bureau, here aboard Jeremiah in advance of the Australian portion of the assault force." The man indicated dips his head in acknowledgement. "We are also joined by Commander William Maude of the British Navy, who is captain of the HMS Icarus." The man in question holds a long, slender cudgel of reddish wood where he stands--and the German shepherd appears to be his. "Commander Eric Warren, Jr. of the United States Navy, captain of the USS Massey, fresh from Okinawa." Commander Warren folds his arms against his chest as he's introduced, interjecting "Ready for this whole dubious enterprise." A few looks are exchanged, but the introductions continue in due course. "Commander Douglas Southwick-Byrne of the No. 200 Flight RAF." Commander Southwick-Byrne flashes a knowing look to Dicky--the two having met some months prior, before he offers to those assembled "We've brought modified B-24 Liberators along, they'll be landing soon with Jeremiah to be ready to join the assault." Around the room, yet more introductions are made. "Group Captain Thomas Montague, RAF, leader of the 1st Airborne Division. Representing the 'Red Devils' as you may be more commonly familiar." It is then that Ronnie among all others has his attention drawn immediately as the next man steps forward for his introduction, having stood partly in shadow before smoking a cigarette. "Brigadier Frederick T. Roberts, leader of the 1st Special Service force, the American-Canadian winter warfare specialists otherwise known as 'The Black Devils' and 'The Devil's Brigade.'" Roberts appears quite pleased at the sight of Ronnie in the mix. Pyke seats himself once more as the introductions are concluded and pleasantries exchanged, gesturing to Commander Bell--who takes the floor. He begins. "It's time to bring you all up to speed on what has been established." Directing those gathered to one of the map tables, Commander Bell begins to gesture. "Our first objective is to seize and render inoperable the German base on the coast of Antarctica, which intelligence has learned is 'Fort Ristscher'--named for the Nazi officer who scouted the area several years ago." Attention is directed to what appears to be a mock-up mapping of the coast overlaid on aerial reconnaissance photos. "As we know it currently, the base consists of an airstrip, a submarine facility, as well as heavily fortified surface facilities which we believe extend underground for an indeterminate depth. Jeremiah and our escort are to rendezvous with additional Allied forces en route, including a sizable detachment from Australia. God willing, we will arrive off the coast of Antarctica within striking range in two weeks time at current, top speed." Straightening, Commander Bell addresses everyone in the room. "As with prior to our new arrivals, the purpose of this briefing is to familiarize all of the commanding officers with our mission as it is defined and come up with an agreed-upon strategy to best suite the forces at our disposal." From aside, Commander Warren is the first to chime in. "With all due respect, I still don't see the exact purpose of this assault. Victory is clearly at hand against Germany in Europe, and this is so far away." Group Captain Montague chimes in as well. "Why this waste of effort for a simple supply depot, or some zealous last stand, when the real action is in Europe?" Perhaps surprisingly, Commander Bell nods at this assertion. "I have to agree. I feel that this operation is a colossal waste of time. Were it my call, I would turn this--" he glances to Pyke "--rather amazing vessel--" he smiles "--around and take it to the Atlantic theatre, where we could see about leveraging Jeremiah toward bringing this bloody war to a quicker conclusion." Several of the men seem to resonate agreement--and after a few moments, such sentiments begin to swell to a crescendo again in the room, heedless of the new arrivals. Such discourse seems destined to carry on until Rear Admiral Byrd raises his voice. "Gentlemen." He turns toward the new arrivals. "I believe they have brought some information that will help to clear things up." Reaching into his pocket, Byrd produces a key--stepping over to Bradley. "Allow me." He implores, unlocking the handcuff from about the man's wrist. Around the briefing room, the other commanding officers step back to give the team room as Pyke clears a table for the contents of the briefcase to be laid out. "I remind everyone present," Byrd notes gravely, "that you are sworn to secrecy with the Official Secrets Act and your equivalents; what you are about to see cannot be shared with anyone outside of this room." A few glances are exchanged, before all eyes fall to Bradley and the others. Byrd turns to address the new arrivals, folding his hands together. "I've heard your debriefings." Byrd notes. "But if you ladies and gents would--please share with us all that you have experienced and learned about what you've encountered and what lies ahead. The floor is yours." With eleven of you, this is a big ole motley menagerie that may relatively abstract given the circumstances. Any given one of you is welcomed and encouraged to offer your say in this mix--and this is an opportunity to even bust out Persuasion and such skills along the way as well. Your goal is to enlighten the joint commanding officers of the true nature of this operation and present your first-hand accounts and feelings on the mix--hopefully to help ensure solidarity in the importance of the assault on Antarctica. Godspeed! GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 21:04 on Oct 31, 2016 |
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Oct 31, 2016 20:58
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Jeremiah - South Atlantic War Council Ambiance Looks are exchanged among the assembled commanders, some incredulous--but all grim. From Bradley's briefcase, the documents are arrayed out across the tables, giving the commanders a glimpse of the reports and their included articles. After some review, Rear Admiral Byrd clears his throat once Ronnie has finished speaking, raising his head. "Thank you." He nods toward the new arrivals. "If I could have everyone's attention, I would like to share my own story." Stepping forward, Byrd brushes his fingertips over a map of Antarctica slowly, brow knit in consternation as he considers for a long moment before he begins to speak. "It was on my second trip to Antarctica, in the winter of '34, that I spent five months stationed at Bolling Advance Base. March to August." A glance up. "I was essentially stranded, with the temperatures down below -58 on the warmest of days, and more than a hundred miles from Little America--my home base." Byrd sets his jaw. "I was alone, officially there to expand the exploration and mapping of Marie Byrd Land, making meteorological observations and mapping the stars, but I had other duties..." Byrd is silent for a brief moment, offering a stoic expression as he glances about the faces of those assembled. "...duties that will have to remain classified, even at this time." A few of the men cross their arms or shift positions, but all present remain rapt while Byrd continues. Extended periods of solitude can break some men, but I must be different that way because I was fine. I had regular radio contact with the base, and I had my work and observations to keep me sane and acute." After another pause, Byrd continues. "All was routine, without much to break the monotony, until the night I saw them. Strange creatures... flying in the night skies above my camp. I thought they were birds at first, but they were too large, too strangely formed, though I could make out few details. I tried to photograph them, but had no luck. They moved in a bizarre fashion, opening and extending their wings simultaneously, flitting together in a complex dance. The plumage of their tails and their heads were curious, and looked like no other avian species I'd ever seen before." Byrd folds his hands together. "There may have been ten of them, perhaps a dozen. I entertained notions that they were just some new, previously unobserved species... a flying penguin, if it was possible? And how could they survive these temperatures? What did they eat? The more I saw of these beings, the more disquieted I was by their appearance. And their cry was worse." Byrd's gaze sweeps the room, the man's expression stark. "As they flew, they gave off a strange noise... a whistling, piping call that haunts me to this very day. I won't repeat it here, nor do I wish to hear it again." "What were they? I did not know, but my questions were soon answered well enough. One night, as I watched them, I saw their flock split into two. One of them seemed to land, in a space not far from my station. I could not venture far at nighttime, because of the extreme temperature and the danger it presented, but I was certain I could find their landing spot and return without incident. I set out quickly, careful not to tax myself, to find their landing spot before they flew away." Before Byrd can continue, there is a knock at the door. Commander Bell straightens, brow furrowing. "Who goes there?" Across the way a familiar voice calls back. "It's Embry, sir." Commander Bell glances about, holding a hand up toward Byrd. "Come along then, Embry." The door opens and Warrant Shipwright Embry enters, glancing toward the team before he moves over to Geoffrey Pyke, leaning near. The two men confer for a moment in low voices--before Pyke rises quickly from his seat, speaking in an exasperated tone. "I must attend to something in the generator room, I will return as soon as I am able." Pyke and Embry move swiftly from the room speaking further along the way, the door closed in their wake. Pausing for a moment as a few of the command staff exchange concerned looks, attention returns to Rear Admiral Byrd as he resumes speaking. "It was not difficult to reach the place they'd apparently set down, but when I got there, it was too late. I had missed them. I looked at the ground for their tracks, and was befuddled. Instead of the expected three-toed birdlike clawed feet, there were many triangular, spade-like footprints, oriented in a bewildering fashion. It took me a considerable amount of time to realize that the creatures each must have had five legs to have made those tracks." "Five legs?" Commander Warren raises a brow, taking a puff of his pipe. Byrd simply nods. "Yes. But the most remarkable thing was the scale. I'd imagined the things to be perhaps two, or at best, three feet in height, but the span of the feet were at least that length apart. With that spread, the things would be much taller, and their weight was enough that their tracks had sunk into the snowpack far deeper than my own snowshoes." Commander Warren appears incredulous, a few of the other men exchanging looks once more--but as it would seem, most seem to have grown rather concerned to have heard this account from a man such as Byrd. "Disappointed, I returned the way I came. When I got to Bolling, a terrifying scene awaited me. Light from the door to the station spilled across the landscape, and the creatures were grouped around the station itself, as if inspecting its contents. They were barrel-shaped, with branchlike limbs mid-torso and long tentacles for legs and smaller ones for heads, their wings were more fans than those of any winged flier I'd ever seen. Some of them, perched on the roof, their wings spread open almost a dozen feet from tip to tip." Byrd gestures his arms broadly, his expression deadly serious. "My possessions were strewn across the snow, and they were examining things with those freakish, branched arms--passing them back and forth to one another, with red eyes at the end of the starfish-like stalks they had instead of heads. I'd mistaken the clusters of grouped tentacles that made up their heads and feet for plumage." As Byrd speaks, Bradley recognizes the creatures he describes as the same 'elder things' recounted in the expedition reports.  "Something inside me snapped, and I felt my mind begin to go, lost in terror and some distant, primal panic that overruled all my sense and reason. I shouted... screamed wordlessly, even, and rushed them, waving my arms and my ice axe as if a murderous dervish. They scattered, leaping into the cold night air soundlessly on their huge wings. I saw then that unlike terrestrial fliers, they'd five wings apiece, folding out of long recesses in their trunks. After a few fearful moments, they were gone... or so I thought." Byrd turns as he gestures, voice crisp. "I ran into the station and entered to see what had transpired inside, only to find another one of them looming inside, filling the room with all its terrifying presence. I cannot imagine such a creature ever was made by God, or any sane Creator. It stood almost eight feet from spade-like foot to the five-lobed crown for a head, and its branched limbs were at least six feet in span from tip to tip. There was something about it that looked more a plant than a warm-blooded being, at the same time evoking the strangeness of deep-sea life." Shaking his head, Byrd sets his jaw. "The... thing... moved toward me then, and I stumbled back, falling and hitting my skull against the doorjamb. Sparks, then darkness took me. I was not unconscious long, perhaps only seconds, but when I opened my eyes and struggled to my feet, the creature was gone. I assessed the situation. The interior of the station was a wreck, the food stores scattered, various pieces of my radio and meteorological equipment in disarray. Distressingly, and most pertinently, the Primus stove that heated the place was in a state of disassembly, portions of the metal bent back and beyond my ability to fix." Rear Admiral Byrd is quiet a moment, crossing his arms. "I managed to get my radio working once more, but wasn't able to repair the stove, and unbeknownst to me, it began leaking gas when I used it, to the point where I rapidly developed a case of carbon monoxide poisoning." A few of the men present exchange looks at this while Byrd shakes his head. "I don't remember much else after that, and confess that the days or weeks that followed were mostly a haze. I gather my radio messages to Little America were somewhat deranged, and it's no surprise they quickly sent a rescue team to bring me back." Reaching out, Byrd rests his palms against the table. "I was weakened and barely sensate when they arrived, and the next thing I knew I was recovering at Little America. I never put down onto paper what happened to me that night on the Ross Ice Shelf." He glances up to those present. "A few years later, on a visit to Hamburg, I was invited to be a part of Ritscher's Neuschwabenland expedition. I declined... was not much interested in being a part of that country's attempts at expanding their territory. No good would come of such aggressive German expansion." Straightening, Byrd folds his arms against his chest. "But also, some part of me was afraid I'd see those things again. I was proven correct... on both counts." Turning to face the commanders, Rear Admiral Byrd lifts his chin. "I never saw those creatures again... until the classified photos from the Pabodie expedition crossed my desk. And so here we all are. But don't take my word entirely for it, or even the testimonies of these fine visitors," he gestures towards the team, "no matter how many photos and documents they've brought before you." After a Pause, Byrd tightens his jaw and squares his shoulders. "Take seats, everyone--and someone get the lights. Watch this, and make up your own minds." As the men and women present change positions and settle in, Byrd steps over to the film projector, starting it up. Ahead, the screen goes from white to black before a title card at the beginning states that the reel is PROPERTY OF THE U.S. DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE and that it contains CLASSIFIED MATERIAL. Then, the footage begins. First, the projected sequence shows aerial footage of Ristcher Station, taken from a great distance. Construction is clearly underway on a massive scale. Due to the range, not much detail can be made out other than the rough lay of battlements and a wide array of shore fortifications--including numerous structures that appear to very likely be an arsenal of gun emplacements. A few of the commanders mutter to one another and gesture towards the screen. Commander Warren puffs his pipe, eyes narrow and jaw set--while Brigadier Roberts and Group Captain Montague stand near one another, both speaking in hushed tones. It is then that the film cuts to a different sequence of aerial footage, shot far aboveground, showing off a great tower of strange, black stone jutting out at strange angles from the ground below. Surrounding the structure are smaller buildings and ruined structures; the footage here is even less detailed than the first sequence, but what is present on the screen makes it clear enough that the tower is like nothing ever fashioned by the hands of men, with construction principles and aesthetics utterly alien to mankind. Now, the film cuts to a third segment--one which is only a few seconds long, but presents a mountain range ringed with strange black structures which blend into the black stone of the mountains themselves. A ridge of irregular construction is depicted that defies the senses in terms of both size and complexity. There is enough shown to see that there is a strong linkage to the strange tower depicted previously before the vantage point-of-view veers away, as if the plane were leaving the area. Finally, the film cuts to show a snowy field from which jut a few slender metallic rods, shot from a handheld camera on the ground. As all eyes observe the screen, the camera operator moves towards one of the metal rods, pointing to something on its end. The camera focuses, before the footage shows a flat metal disk at the top; the camera shakes a bit and the rod moves, as if being rotated by the camera-operator's other hand, before the end comes into focus once more... and the stamp on it is unmistakable, the swastika. Here, the point of view then swings out to the snowy landscape studded with the metal rods, embedded into the ground as far as the eye can see. Here the reel ends, with a few long seconds of darkness before crisp test reminds CLASSIFIED MATERIAL to the viewers. As the screen goes to white, Byrd shuts off the projector and turns on the lights. After a moment of silence, several voices raise at once as the commanders express startled reactions to what had just been seen. "The scale of those defenses--that's no supply station, it's a God-damned bloody fortress!" "Those mountains--had to be larger than the Himalayas--and what were those structures?" "This is impossible, the footage had to have been doctored somehow." "You saw there, at the end--the markings, far as could be seen. What the hell has Jerry been up to down there?" As the discourse unfolds, eyes turn towards the team intermittently before Byrd casts a look to Bradley and his fellows. "I think it may be time to elaborate further on what your team has discovered from stolen Nazi intelligence." Bradley made a Knowledge (Mythos) test (on his behalf) to recognize the creatures Byrd described as Elder Things, specifically. Everyone present, however, has the loose idea at least that the man ran into the same creatures as the prior expeditions had befallen. Round one, you folks did a fairly solid job of entreating the command staff; presently, things are in a bit of a tizzy however--and this is your chance again to speak up and weigh in if you please, to try to help enlighten the situation or offer any input to the proceedings.
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Nov 4, 2016 17:03
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Jeremiah - South Atlantic War Council Ambiance Rear Admiral Byrd nods as Bradley and the others finish speaking, crossing his arms. "Based on the deployment of forces, it is clear that the Nazis are mobilizing to colonize Antarctica with conquest of the strange black city as their goal." His gaze flits towards the other commanders assembled in the briefing room. "Operatives across a multitude of fronts have noted a southward movement of key Black Sun and Nachtwölfe personnel and equipment." Spreading his arms, Byrd taps his finger against the map on the table. "Allied intelligence points at these groups using Antarctica as the site of their last stand--but I would agree that there is compelling evidence which supports that this is a desperate gamble towards an unknown end. To the question of what they hope to find there?" Byrd shakes his head, gesturing to Bradley and the team. "While the Pabodie expedition indicated nothing but death remained, with these records from the Starkweather-Moore and Ritscher expeditions, I believe it is clear that something far grander--and far more terrifying--is waiting to be found." Straightening, Byrd folds his arms and sets his jaw. "It is up to the men and women in this room--and the forces we represent--to stop them." A sudden loud, muffled sound reverberates heavily before the very floor and walls of the briefing room shudder; overhead, the lights flicker and waver for a moment. Commander Bell casts a quick glance about before raising his voice. "This meeting is adjourned. Dismissed." Striding briskly, he heads to the door, departing with the briefing's guards. Not a moment later, an emergency klaxon begins to blare within Jeremiah's corridors before a guard runs to the open door of the briefing room, breathlessly shouting: "There's been an explosion in the generator room!" Swiftly, the other commanding officers make their way out of the briefing room, headed back towards the command deck to assess the situation. From within, the team can see crew running after, towards the generators.
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Nov 10, 2016 04:49
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Jeremiah - South Atlantic War Council Ambiance With suspicions of sabotage and other untoward circumstances, most of the team elects to remain behind in the briefing room attending to the intel, beginning to discuss possible plans of relocation or further security. In the meantime, Victoire, Dicky and Ronnie hasten into the corridors of the Jeremiah, following after the damage control crews rushing toward--presumably--the scene of the explosion. Together, the trio work their way past corridors to cabins and crew quarters, as well as the ship's infirmary and dispensary--bustling with hectic activity in the wake of the explosion. An enormous galley is passed, capable of handling hundreds of hungry crew at a time. Winding through passageways and down a series of steps, Ronnie and his fellows pass an access-way to what must be kennels judging by the cacophonous chorus of canines howling and barking at the klaxon alert, their wild cries echoing in the corridors. Within the briefing room, the remainder of the team find themselves alone for lingering moments--though more than two dozen men and women among the Jeremiah personnel pass the doorway to their chamber. A few glances are cast briefly toward the team in passing; faintly, a distant rumble can be heard through the immense bergship as those who remain assess what to do next with the intel in their situation. Jeremiah - Starboard Engine Room As Ronnie, Victoire and Dicky near the scene, the corridor begins to of smoke--growing noticeably warmer with each step they take. Water drips from the walls and ceiling--and even those structures not fashioned of pykrete drip runoff water from what which melts around them. Outside of the engine room, two dozen or so crew-members are nearby, coughing. Upon arriving at the engine room, the trio find bedlam before them: damage control crews fight in an attempt to quell tenacious gouts of flame as it licks along the walls and ceiling--and the entire enormous chamber is filled with smoke.  While the damage control crew have managed to bring the fire down to a degree, the heat remains intense; men lay on the ground, unconscious or dead--and the air is rife with the cries of the injured and the shouts of the crew still battling to contain the scene. From along the main line of the chamber, a bucket brigade is being formed while fire hoses are readied to endeavor to stop the blaze. Victoire's call to action for the wounded finds several crewmen waving her over toward a gathering of the injured: there are no shortage of crew to aide in this regard, with burns, gashes and other injuries. Dicky and Ronnie's eyes flit about, spying at least three dozen crew-members already performing damage control duty throughout the engine room--most of whom are trying to extinguish the fire. Other recovery actions also appear to be underway; the duo can barely hear a man by the generators shouting above the din and chaos: "The emergency fuel shut-off valves aren't loving working!" He shouts. "It's going to feed another ignition at this rate!" Across the span, another crew-member's shouting can be discerned. "Water pump's busted--no water coming through--we can't fight the fire like this!" From the rear of the engine room, a small compartment resonates banging and muffled shouting from beyond it--crew-members apparently trapped inside as the fire builds around them. With eyes scanning the chaos, Ronnie glimpses a recently familiar face: Pyke himself lay trapped beneath a large steel panel that has fallen from the ceiling, struggling ineffectually against it as the heat intensifies. Ronnie, Dicky and Victoire manage to find their way to the starboard engine room and upon arrival, Ronnie and Victoire made notice checks successfully. There are a plethora of things going on in the starboard engine room which the three of you may elect to try to participate; due to the heavy amount of smoke, you will be enduring smoke inhalation while sustaining any efforts here. Without protection, every round a character suffering smoke inhalation will be given a Vigor test--with failures resulting in a Fatigue level. Covering your mouth and nose with a damp cloth provides a +2 bonus to this test, if you can manage it; gas masks prevent it altogether, but that's a luxury unavailable at this time. Victoire has no shortage of injured crew to assist with her healing capabilities, resuscitating unconscious crew-members, treating burns before they become infected, etc.; it is entirely a matter of how long she elects to brave the hazardous environs and maintain her work. For Ronnie and Dicky, it's Sophie's choice territory: the situation is worsening and you've only so much time and so many hands to react to what's going on. From what you've seen, your choices are: -Support the damage control crews attempting to put out the fire: this is accomplished by a making a Repair roll, with successes and raises contributing to the ongoing efforts of the crew to quell the flames. -Attempting to assist with the malfunctioning emergency shut-off valves, which will require a Repair test. -Attempting to assist with the inoperable water pump, which will require a Repair test. -Attempting to rescue whomever is trapped in the sealed compartment, which will require a Strength test--which may be cooperative. -Attempting to rescue Pyke from beneath the panel pinning him and the fire, which will require a Strength test--which may be cooperative. The damage control crew is not ineffectual, mind; they'll be making continuous attempts to handle the situation. Instead, the whole of these circumstances are a series of Dramatic Tasks which feed into one another--so your efforts can help to contribute to the ultimate resolution of the situation, for good or ill. With current circumstances, the situation in the starboard engine room can potentially go very very badly in a hurry; please consider this fair warning that characters may be at risk of catastrophic harm participating in the engine room's vicinity.
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Nov 15, 2016 16:11
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Jeremiah - Starboard Engine Room Ambiance As the alarm continues to blare and cloying smoke surrounds the chamber, Dicky and Ronnie are swift--parting ways to see first and foremost to the me and women still in trouble. Dicky maneuvers his way past the surging blaze to where Pyke has been pinned--finding the older gentleman coughing and partly bloodied. Wasting little time, the sergeant crouches low and takes a grip of the heavy panel, putting his legs to bare to lift and foist against a protest of lodged metal. With smoke clinging about Dicky as he weathers heavy smoke--at last the panel gives way to lurch far enough aside that Pyke is freed. With a hoarse groan, Pyke reaches to find the pilot's waiting grasp--hauled free from his perilous predicament... and not a moment too soon, a loud CRACK heard from above before a pylon descends from the ceiling, dislodged as it crashes into the span where Pyke's head had been not moments prior. Across the way, Ronnie bolts for the trapped engineers hedged off and muffled from beyond. Taking stock, the commando finds that the men and women had taken refuge inside a small compartment that had spared them from the brunt of the explosion--but thereafter seem to have been sealed inside. With impressive strength, Ronnie works to peel and pry at the compartment door--managing a few precious inches before the handle snaps free; thinking quickly as his gaze darts about, he's able to spy and retrieve a length of rebar to use for leverage--returning to the compartment and at last prying the door open. Now cleared, the five men and women within stumble free with words of thanks, coughing against the smoke and shielding their eyes as they make a hasty retreat from the engine room. Meanwhile, the damage control crew continue to struggle against the mounting flames; without the water pump's assistance, they're limited to battling the blaze with their bucket brigade--until an attending engineer succeeds at getting the pump operating again. As hoses flood in anxious hands, the fire suppression team begins dousing and fighting back the worst of the blaze as shouting and the clatter of boots on metal resonate throughout the engine room. Alarms continue to sound as more crew members begin to examine the emergency fuel shut-off valves. Dicky managed to chain successful Strength + Vigor tests and rescued Pyke from peril--in the nick of time, too. Ronnie managed to chain successful Strength tests and a Smarts test, while sustaining passing Vigor tests--proving his mettle in a big way. With the help of a piece of dislodged rebar, the commando is able to leverage and fully pry open the sealed compartment, rescuing the engineers within. Damage Control Crew unattended made their own attempts each round, a straight d6 + wild die. Fortunately, their efforts were pretty solid: 5, 11 and 7 respectively makes for four successes battling the blaze.
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Nov 15, 2016 22:13
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Jeremiah - Starboard Engine Room Ambiance Shouldering Pyke, Ronnie foists the man in a fireman's carry and works to maneuver his way out of the engine room, the smoke and heat cloying as it suffuses the area. With Victoire attending to the injured in kind before she withdraws as well, Dicky is left last, moving to lend an extra set of eyes and know-how in an effort to help with the emergency fuel shut-off. Dicky's experience in aircraft maintenance and repair lends itself here as shouts and calls fill the engine room. "If we can't get this going, there's going to be a secondary explosion!" Shouts the crewman beside Dicky to be heard over the din around them before gesturing: not far from where Dicky stands, the reserve fuel tanks can be seen--and a detonation thereof would without question kill every man and woman in the vicinity and likely severely hinder the voyage of the Jeremiah. Removing an access panel, the Dicky enters the case to the shut-off valves, beginning to inspect the interior; nearby, a sharp hiss begins to sound as pressure builds in tubing. "Stand clear! Away from the reserve tanks!" Initially, nothing seems apparent--until Dicky reaches to maneuver several wires aside for a better vantage only to discover that they've been detached and disconnected altogether. Heat continues to build, the hissing growing more intense--and with careful precision, Dicky is able to re-attach the wiring which has, thankfully, been labeled on a panel diagram and color-coded. With the last wire put in place where it belongs, a palm hammering the button fires the emergency fuel shut-off sequence as valves shift properly, cutting off the reserve tanks--and narrowly avoiding catastrophe. Around the engine room the suppression crew continues to work to suppress and put out the flames; heavy damage has been done, but so much more has been prevented. Others from the team arrive from the briefing room in time to lend a hand with the wounded--and among the many injured or deceased, Geoffrey Pyke is taken to the infirmary with due haste. Jeremiah - Interlude Once the crisis in the starboard engine room has been put mostly to rest and the team is reunited, word comes through that the command staff have begun making their assessments and putting efforts in motion to ready the Jeremiah. Though word is kept curt, the reality is that the remarkably swift preparation of the Jeremiah was not without its troubles. With the bergship in less-than-complete state and only barely combat-ready, its multitudinous crew are working long shifts and arduous hours to rectify such before reaching the shores of Antarctica. Throughout the massive bergship, her interior and deck are a non-stop buzz of activity--while round-the-clock labor crews work to install systems and endeavor to complete remaining construction. Walking through the passageways and corridors of the bergship, the team can spy small crews veritably everywhere: shoring up walls, drilling holes through interior pykrete to fashion conduits for electrical lines, installing cooling ducts, erecting support beams--even intruding on crew living space to install formerly incomplete facets of the ship's functionality. Jeremiah - Infirmary Not long after the team has concluded the briefing and the engine room's calamity, a messenger seeks them out to visit Pyke within the infirmary. Upon arrival, the man is found in a private treatment room with oxygen assistance and an IV. Gesturing for privacy at the doorway, Pyke beckons Dicky nearer--though he regards those assembled of the team as a whole. "This must be kept in strict confidence." Pyke intones gravely, voice lowered; when he is satisfied by the expressions of those present, he continues. "I do not believe the accident in the starboard generator was an engineering failure: I believe it was sabotage." A cough surfaces, racking Pyke for a few moments as he grimaces. "When I was called away from the briefing, I examined the engineering reports--and became immediately suspicious. There was a minor fuel leak that had sprung up earlier this evening, so I'd ordered it shut down and checked; it was due to be started up again during the briefing." Pyke frowns, jaw tight. "I was examining some of the maintenance reports with Embry--and the next thing I knew, fire had broken out in the generator room." With effort, Pyke props himself up with his elbows to sit upright, wincing and moving a hand tenderly to the wrappings about his ribs. "I assure you--there is no possible way the generator could have failed so catastrophically, igniting its fuel supply." Pyke scowls, shaking his head. "It simply has to have been sabotage--not only to hinder the Jeremiah, but I suspect to create an opening to disrupt the briefing." He gestures towards Bradley. "To get hands on your intel." Gaze flitting about those present, Pyke musters a dry, mirthless smirk. "At the very least, they seem to have failed on that count." Another fit of coughing grips the man, grimacing, before he clears his throat. "Listen. Our mission--it's too important. As far as I'm concerned, anyone beyond that briefing room is suspect." He turns, leveling a severe look. "You should not trust anyone until we're sure." Letting that linger, Pyke looses a terse breath. "You should first speak to Commander Bell, however. Get his permission before you launch an investigation of any sort." Moved things up and along. We'll be headed into somewhat abstracted stretches of time ahead, here; part of the process will be the potential for anyone and everyone in the team to try to contribute towards the Jeremiah's readiness in their own way, if so desired; your successes and such can potentially contribute a great deal to shoring up the bergship for when it's time to take the fight to Antarctica. In the meantime, Pyke is putting forth the need for an investigation--to which some of you may find yourselves quite well-suited. Pyke firmly believes that sabotage is behind the events and that someone or someones aboard the Jeremiah intend to undermine your efforts ahead in Antarctica. GaistHeidegger fucked around with this message at 02:09 on Nov 18, 2016 |
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Nov 18, 2016 01:58
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