The Mystery of Loch Feinn

Game Master greg white 722

In the spring of 1941, agents of Department M, a branch of England's security services dealing with the most outré of threats, is sent to the remote Scottish Highlands, to investigate a possible Nazi menace on the shores of desolate Loch Feinn.


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Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward turns to the gaunt man who mentioned the water-horse to begin with.

"Sir, is this where you saw the wah--... is this where you saw it?"


A little past, in the thicket , he says, nodding.

You see there is a kind of narrow ravine, through which a small brook runs, that wanders past the slumping barn. The ravine widens a bit, and there are scrubby willows growing there: the thicket of which he spoke apparently.


Henry takes point, moving about half speed, slightly hunched over to stay low.


Everybody falls quiet, as they stalk towards the thicket; and the only sound is the drear whistle of the wind, as its blows down off the hills.


Henry motions for the crowd to wait, then creeps forward, bent nearly double to spy upon the thicket before the mob arrives.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward dashes to the opposite side of the trail, amazed at how quickly his experience and training from the Verdun come flooding back. He's likewise amazed how much simpler and easier it is to move through thickets when you don't have to lug a gas mask, haversack, cape, helmut, shovel, rifle and pistol through a muddy, oozing trench filled with men screaming and foul odours. One smell in particular was particularly bad on that Spring day in 1916, the one when the combination of homemade booze and fecal matter rose to...

Edward is snapped out of his waking nightmare as the Lieutenant Commander wisely hushes the mob, a mob Edward would rather prefer wasn't there at all. He double checks his Webley once again, cocks the pistol, and crouches for cover, ready to shoot if something comes crashing through.

I am too old for this, he thinks, but I must soldier on.


There, at the bottom of the ravine, twilight has already arrived.

There, in the back! A pale, amorphous white fluttering! Is that the dread water horse!


Henry gasps, his breath held in his teeth. He starts to creep closer, his handgun out, his eyes wider than they ought to be.


LCDR Reading-Smythe half-slides, half-scrambles, down the side of the ravine; never taking his eyes from the pale blankness that he sees amidst the willows.

By God! You recognize the thing!

Readington-Smythe's revalation:
Its a parachute shroud, hung up in the thicket, billowing in the wind.


Henry begins laughing, a long slightly mad, half-relieved laugh. He stands up and turns about, calling back, "It's only a parachute! Nothing more than a silk sheet, billowing in the wind! My stars!"


Male Human

"My God, here I was trembling, fiddling about with my revolver and we find that it's just a parachute? I nearly had a heart attack gentlemen. I think we all need to go back to the tavern and have ourselves a pint to settle our nerves!" Emrys says to the group, trying to hide his true feelings of the matter.

In Emry's mind, he had been truly scared. He didn't know what he would have done if he would've needed to actually use the revolver that he clutched in his hand


The farmers gather around, staring as LCDR Readington-Smythe gathers up the silk.

Finally one speaks: Who came down at the end of that thing?


Henry frowns and begins to search around for any tracks or trail.


The LCDR quickly realizes that the chute could have blown here from across miles of empty moorland.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward, upon realizing what the Lieutenant Commander has discovered, turns back toward the crowd of farmers and gestures with a crooked finger for the gaunt man to talk to him privately, away from the mob.

I don't want to make a fool of him, Edward is thinking. He saw something. Very likely it was simply this parachute. On the other hand, truth is often stranger than fiction.

Is a flattery roll required here?


A parachute? He seems puzzled. I remember seeing a newsreel, in Edinburgh, at the start of the war; the Germans, in the thousands, dropping out of the sky, in Flanders I think it was. So it was simply a parachute, oh my.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

"Sir," Edward says. "Think back. Those parachutes you saw in the newsreels. Did they look like this? Did they have this shape? Do you remember any markings?"


"This could have drifted quite a ways. I don't think anyone's in the immediate area, sirs." Henry still scans the area, reflexively, to ensure his words are correct.


I don't--I don't know He looks wide-eyed at the flowing folds of silk in LCDR Readington-Smythe's hands. It was just a few seconds of newsreel, seen almost a year ago

The farmers are darting nervous eyes around the country-side, as if the rolling heather might be hiding regiments of fallschirmjagers.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward pats the gaunt man on the shoulder. "No worries, mate. Just thought this might've jogged your memory. It'll be okay. If there were Krauts parachuting into Scotland they would've all been shot by now. We'll figure out what's going on."

Edward turns away so that the gaunt man cannot see his (Edward's) furrowed brow. The truth is that he is suddenly quite worried that all of the Highlands are crawling with Germans. He holsters his pistol and lights a cigarette with a nervous hand.


The light is fading fast, as you turn and make your way back along the path back towards the hamlet.


Henry looks almost gleeful as they head back, the dread he had been feeling lifted after they discovered the parachute.

Guys, I am coordinating a local con this weekend, so I will be unavailable Friday - Monday. Should be human again by Tuesday.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward makes sure he is out of earshot of the crowd, then says, "Could this have been the parachute of Rudolf Hess? Surely that one was confiscated by Box 500* when he landed."

"Box 500" was the everyday slang for MI-5 in the UK during the war. I love the fun facts you learn from RPGs :)


The chute would've drifted really far then, as he had been captured a little outside of Glasgow. You're pretty sure though it doesn't belong to an RAF pilot, had an RAF plane gone down there should be an active search ongoing.


Male Human

"I do find it peculiar cousin that there was no further trace of the pilot that utilized that parachute. Perhaps it would be prudent to return with full daylight to explore the area more for clues?" suggests to Edward discreetly so as to not allow much outside of the party to hear.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward nods and motions for the Lieutenant Commander to join them, in order to provide his input as well.

"My cousin here thinks a bit of reconnaissance might be in order when things are less crowded. How is your recon training? I cannot speak for my dear cousin here, but it's been quite the number of years since I went tromping through the moors hoping to find a trail."


Henry nods. "Rusty, but functional, sir. Shall I get dressed for night operations or would you like to leave now?"


At the boarding house an somewhat pale and anxious Ms. Chase meets you at the door.

Ms. Chase: Around eight o'clock, I noticed a figure skulking at the end of the garden. I pointed him out to Mrs. MacDonell, and together we confronted this interloper. He was a thuggish type, a loutish brute; who gave some weak excuse of enjoying Mrs. MacDonell's topiary efforts. With a wicked leer he wished us good evening, and then ambled off in the direction of the loch. Mrs. MacDonell tells me that this villain was one Sean MacAllan; one of the 'more social-able' members of a knavish clan that lives around the loch. Mrs. MacDonell is sure that he meant no good, but what his specific mission here tonight was I can make no guess; but I'm sure trouble will follow.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward turns to the Lieutenant Commander: "I believe this answers your question, sir. It looks like we need to change into some camouflage clothing."

To Emyrs: "Are you agreeable to a little night patrol, cousin?"

To Ms. Chase: "Your service is incomparable, madam. Allow us to buy your dinner, and if you wish to come along, you are welcome, of course."


Ms. Chase: I think we'll be needing some stout coffee then.


Male Human

"Edward, while I may not be the best at it, I will agree to being as quiet as possible. We never know when the use of a doctor may be beneficial." Emrys says.


Henry goes back to his room and changes into some dark, field work style clothing. He wears his sidearm, and goes seeking fireplace ash to coat his face and any exposed skin.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward does the same, donning dark trousers, work boots, an old flannel suit and black hat. He double checks his revolver, and gets an extra box of shells just in case.

He then goes downstairs and takes up Miss Chase on the offer of coffee.

He begins to think about his nerves as he sips very hot coffee:
Is this wise? You know how your nerves are, old fellow. And yet... And yet I feel tired and drowsy. Coffee may perk me up.


You wait anxiously, in the foyer of the boarding house, as the sun slips below the horizon, and night spreads her velvety cloak over the country-side.

Peering out through the blinds, you can see a river of fog pouring down from the loch.


Henry checks his sidearm for the fifteenth time, then finally nods at the others. "Time to creep, my lads." He looks almost jaunty, happy to finally be doing something a little closer to his wheelhouse. He'll lead the way back toward the objective.


So there is no moon, and the night is positively stygian; with the tiny hamlet almost completely enveloped in a thick, clammy fog.

Outdoorsman would be best for navigating back to where you found the chute, I assume that is your destination; but I'll let you use Piloting (at a difficulty of 7).


I'll spend 6 to ensure we get there without delay!

Pilot: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

I am in a weeklong class where I have limited access to this site. I'll start posting again regularly this weekend. Thanks.


With LCDR Readington-Smythe confidently taking point, you set off across the darkened moors at a brisk pace.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

Edward follows the LCDR vigilantly. The fog is making goose pimples break out on the old man's arms. The night air is getting down into his chest, and it's all he can do to hold back a fit of coughing. The farther they hike, the more labored his breathing becomes, not as much from exertion as from whatever has been causing his cough.

Edward continually darts his eyes back and forth, hoping to make out something in the awful darkness, but knowining it's hopeless.

Edward doesn't have skill points in Outdoorsman or Piloting. What happens in this case? Do you want me to roll a d6 for him anyway?


Well, with the LCDR acting as pathfinder, you simply follow him; it might be a problem if you get separated.

You reach the site of the old barn and thicket. An owl hoots, and glides away on ghostly wings as you approach.


Male Human

Emrys begins to look about, trying to decipher if anything looks odd or out of place. Emrys finds it difficult to look about as it is dark and his old eyes aren't what they used to be.

As he looks, he can feel the tension of the night grow on him, like a leech growing larger from its host.


Male Human Author of Planetary Romances

The owl startles Edward. He jumps and draws his pistol. He flips the cylinder open out of habit to ensure its loaded before realizing the folly of that action. He gently closes the cylinder shut, hoping he's not making too much noise.

Would it make sense to use a "sense trouble" skill point or two right here? Edward has 4 points in that skill. He also has 4 points each in "shadowing" and "stealth", and 7 points in "weapons".


Emrys Hanmer wrote:


As he looks, he can feel the tension of the night grow on him, like a leech growing larger from its host.

That's a neat turn of phrase. Carter, if there's a immediate threat, that you might detect seconds before it is in your face, I will call for a test of Sense Trouble.

The crumbling barn looms up before you.


Henry pauses, letting the others catch up. In a breathless voice, he tells them that he's going to approach, then slips into the shadows and moves toward the barn.


All right, there's a core-clue here; just tell me what ability you're going to use to 'find' it.


I think I need help here. What sort of abilities are we talking about?


Hmmm. You kinda slighted yourself on Investigative Abilities. You're a man of action! Burn two points from your Sense Trouble pool.

LCDR Readington-Smythe cannot shake the sense that there is something within the musty interior of the decaying barn. He stalks around the barn's interior, and in one corner, he stumbles over something loosely buried in the detritus that covers the barn floor.

Looking down he sees the glint of metal through the dirt and moldy straw.


Henry hisses through his teeth. "Over here!" as he begins to uncover the metal object.


Entering the barn you see LCDR Readington-Smythe pulling out from under some rubbish a metal cylinder, roughly a little over a yard long, and about 20 inches in diameter.

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