(Read previous letter here.)
Letter 6: Paradise Found
Background info:
Character: Writer (using Journalist profile) Virginia Marlin (Skill: Detailed +1 dice to a single Heart test, I know Steady Hand makes more strategic sense, however, the details of this letter makes that option unlikely)
Penmanship: Poor (1d)
Language: Good (3d)
Heart: Average (2d)
Profile: You are a friend of Issac Barnard, the artist from the previous letter. You live in the nearby town of Essex and you met Issac many years ago when both of you happened to be visiting Manchester. You passed the artist on the street as he worked at his easel, capturing the morning bustle on the streets. Striking up a conversation, you bonded over your creative endeavors -- his painting, and your writing -- and you quickly became friends.
Over the past several years the two of you visited each other and spoke about collaborating on a project. You were working on a novel set in New England and Issac offered to provide some illustrations to accompany the story. It was this project that brought you to Arkham on this brisk fall day. You had arranged to look at a few of his sketches and choose two or three to be fully developed. However, upon arrival at his home on the edge of the Sycamore Wood, you were ill-prepared for what you would find.
Goal: You must convince yourself that you are sound of mind and that what you saw was a
figment - a chemical reaction in your brain. Reason as to what happened and try to maintain your sanity.
Rules of correspondence: There is only darkness. He is here by your door. Your final paragraph must be in capitals.
Inkpot words are written in red. Flourish words are written in blue. The scores for each paragraph are listed after the letter.
* * * * *
Finally, I’m able to put my thoughts on paper. I’ve been on the run most of the night, only arriving at this hotel a little before midnight. I asked the desk clerk if there was any food leftover from dinner as I hadn’t eaten since midday. He assured me he could find something and would bring it up to me. I thanked him, retreated to my room, and locked the door. I must settle my mind. I need to make sense of what I saw, lest I go mad. I pray that writing this account will help.
I arrived in Arkham late in the afternoon and made my way to Issac’s house right about dusk. To my surprise, his front door was wide open. When I receive no response to my call, I ventured inside. The entire room was ransacked as though someone had been frantically searching for something. However, I soon came to believe that a struggle was more likely, as I spotted a stain of blood on the floor. Streak marks led to the back of the house. I figured that whatever spilled that blood either crawled or was dragged in that direction. Fearing for my friend’s safety I followed the trail out the back door and into the fields beyond. The grass was matted where it appeared the body had been dragged, bits of blood and flesh stuck to blades of grass and the branches of shrubs. The trail led into the Sycamore Woods that bordered Issac’s property and, despite the hour, I continued. If Issac was hurt I might be his only salvation. However, it wasn’t my friend that I found, but Betsy his dog. Her body had been torn to shreds and the exposed bones showed signs of gnawing. Could a cougar have entered the home and dragged the poor animal out here to feast?
I was so focused on finding Issac and the grisly discovery that I was unaware of the macabre scene that was unfolding several feet beyond. It was the voice, laughter, and other strange sounds that caught my attention. I looked up and saw a flicker of flame through the trees. Curious, I approached the clearing and now wish I hadn’t. On the forest floor writhed a couple dozen naken men and women. On top of them were otherworldly beings, demons, the likes of which I had never seen. They were grey and leathery with wings like a bat. Their arms ended in claws which they used to tear into their victims and their beaks were long and filled with razor-sharp teeth. Their bellies bulged as they devoured the people’s flesh. Presiding over the scene was a tall, sinister-looking man. Satan, I thought, but those being eaten called him by another name: Nyarlathotep.
As horrid as this was, it barely compared to what I heard. The men and women on the ground, those being torn to shreds and eaten, were laughing. In fact, they seemed to enjoy what was happening and were raising up their voices with rejoicing. I felt something grip my leg and I looked down. A man, everything below his torso torn away, looked up at me and giggled. ‘Nyarlathotop has brought paradise to us,’ he said blissfully. ‘Praise be to him!’ What madness was this? I screamed as the man died at my feet. I ran. The chanting went on behind me and I couldn’t tell if anyone followed. I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I just ran to town, found a vacant carriage, and told the driver to leave with all haste. I begged him not to stop until we reached the next town. I spent the entire trip trying to convince myself that what I saw was a mere illusion. That something did happen to Issac and it was actually only his body I saw, the feeding creature nothing more than a crow or buzzard. But it was to no avail. That didn’t explain the tall man or the words I heard emanate from the dying man’s mouth.
I was dropped off at this fine Inn and . . . WHAT’S THAT? A POUNDING AT MY DOOR. HE HAS FOUND ME! NYARLATHOTEP IS HERE! DID HE JUST SPEAK MY NAME? NO, THAT MUST BE MY IMAGINATION. HE CAN’T KNOW ME? HE CAN’T KNOW I’M HERE. WAIT! HE SPOKE IT AGAIN. “VIRGINIA! YOUR MEAL!” OH LORD! HE’S SERVING ME TO THOSE VILE MONSTERS. I AM THEIR NEXT MEAL!. FATHER IN HEAVEN! YOU ARE HOLY! DELIVER ME FROM THIS EVILLLL . . . (The letter ends with the pen trailing off in a squiggle.)
P1 - Flourish: 2, 3 fail Inkpot: 1, 2, 4 - inferior word Penmanship: 2 fail
Total Score: 0
P2 - Flourish: 4,4 fail Inkpot: 3,4,5 - superior word Penmanship: 3 fail
Total Score: 1
P3 - Flourish: 1,3 fail Inkpot: 2,2,6 - superior word Penmanship: 2 fail
Total Score: 1
P4 - Flourish: 3,4 (Using skill for +1 die) 1 fail Inkpot: 2,2,6 - superior word Penmanship: 6
success
Total Score: 2
P5 - Flourish: 1, 4 fail Inkpot: 2,5,6- superior word Penmanship: 4 fail, of course
Total Score: 1
Total Letter Score: 5
0-7 points
You scream and the door opens. Instead of the tall man from the woods, you see the concerned desk clerk holding a plate of hot food in his hand. He asks if you are okay and, embarrassed, you quickly explain that he just startled you. You grab the plate and shut the door. No longer hungry, you set the plate down, seal the letter in an envelope, and put it in the drawer. Taking a breath, you tell yourself to calm down. The act of getting everything on paper has eased your mind a bit, and you feel silly at the thought of mistaking the desk clerk for the Devil. Still, you feel uneasy and unsettled, not knowing exactly what you witnessed in the woods. You step over the window and look out over the quiet street. Suddenly, your eye catches faint movement in the shadows across the way. You focus all your attention in that direction, straining to see what is there. After a few moments, the shadows appear to separate, and, to your horror, you can make out the shape of a tall man dressed in coat and tails and a top hat.
Actual game text: You seal the envelope and slip it into a drawer, holding your head. Writing has made you feel better, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is drawing in. You look outside and see the shape of a tall man. Gain 1 story point.
Total Story Points: 7
CAMPAIGN CONCLUSION (Based on a score of 5-7 points)
You (Virginia Marlin) wake up in the bed of the hotel room. The last thing you remember from the previous evening was retreating to your bed and ducking under the covers. A childish act, you know, but all you could think to do was hide and hope the evil man would just leave.
Slowly you climb out of bed, wondering what time it is. Sunlight streams through the window and the angle makes you think it’s late morning or perhaps early afternoon. Now that it’s day and you’ve gotten some sleep, you seem to be thinking a bit more clearly. While you feel you must have seen something awful in the woods, was it really the grotesque scene you remember? Surely, people weren’t really being eaten by winged beasts. That’s impossible! Maybe an animal predator did get a hold of Issac, dragged him to the woods, and left his half-eaten body there to be found. That’s what you must have seen and the shock caused you to imagine everything else. After all, the novel Issac and you were collaborating on was a mystery. That must’ve been it.
Still, you want to get away from here as fast as possible, so you go about gathering your things and packing them in your case. As you are fastening the clasp, you notice a copy of the New England Journal open on the small writing desk. Funny, you don’t recall it being there before. You step over and take a look at one of the stories on the open page. It tells about strange goings-on in the Sycamore Woods of Arkham. You close your eyes and shiver at the memories of what you imagined the previous night. When you open them again, the newspaper is gone!
Confusion courses through you and you waste no time grabbing your bag and heading downstairs. Your plan is to have the clerk hail you a carriage and leave immediately, presumably never to return. However, when you reach the lobby the room is empty. Stepping over to the counter, you ring the small bell that sits there and wait. After about five minutes no one shows up. Not only that, but you see no other patrons about either. This is certainly strange, but eventually, you resign yourself to the idea that you are going to have to seek out transportation yourself.
You leave the hotel and step into the street . . . the completely empty street. Where is everyone? This is highly unusual, especially for the middle of a bright, sunny day in what usually is a bustling town. Then, without warning, the sky darkens and you look up. A grey, swirling cloud has formed overhead. Is it about to rain? You look closer and realize what you thought was a cloud was actually a flock of birds. Blackbirds. No. Not quite blackbirds. As they descend further down, instead of chirping or caws you hear shrieking and the flapping wings much heavier than a crow’s. To your horror, you realize what you are looking at are none other than the same grotesque creatures you saw in the woods. However, instead of fat and bulbous, they were thin and skeletal. Of course they are, you think to yourself. They haven’t eaten yet.
The fall to your knees and the cloud envelopes you as the beasts begin to feast.
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Rev. 12:9
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