So Dr. Hanmer had largely squeezed outside, when he up-ended the table-ware.
So, LCDR RS, you want to pull Dr. Hanmer back inside?
From just outside the slovenly hovel Dr. Hanmer sees rolling green moors, hemmed in by the ubiquitous fog. The chill morning air is quite bracing after a night in the sty-like interior of the hut.
The elderly doctor uprights himself and takes a quick moment to take in his surroundings. He looks back in the window to see if the other two gentlemen will follow.
There’s no way on God's green earth that Edward is "coming out with his hands up." Wounded, scared, fatigued and just plain fed up, Edward fires his pistol at the ground, hoping to scare off the thugs.
He turns to his partners: Lets get out, NOW! and races to the window after firing his pistol.
They scatter as the bullet sings over their head.
Dr. Hanmer, you hear Mr. Carter's pistol bark.
There seems to be a kind of path or corridor through the fog, leading into the rolling heath.
Henry finishes helped Dr. Hanmer, then nods to Mister Carter and together they run away from the hut of death.
"Gentlemen! There! A pathway!" The doctor shouts to his compatriots as he walks in the direction of the heath, waiting for them to catch up.
Edward races to catch up with his companions before the villagers have a chance to regroup. He brings up the rear. A tunnel through the fog is weird, but it's a bloody sight better than a shoot out with a bunch of unhinged cultists.
Your progress is agonizingly slow, as you limp and stumble through the tunnel through the mist. You hear shouting from the cottage, but it is muffled, and faint, as the fog closes in behind you.
Occasionally the fog seems to separate into strands and lumpen forms, which surround you like amorphous gargoyles: but always there appears to be an open lane ahead.
The doctor notices the slumping stature of his comrades and reassures them to the best of his ability. "Come now gents, let's get going to find some respite. I'm sure there'll be tea and biscuits aplenty!"
.
Ahead you see aspens, and just beyond their budding branches, you see the slate gray waters of the loch.
Mr. Carter, LCDR RS; Dr. Hanmer's unflagging optimism lifts your spirits: gain one point of Stability.
The mist lifts from the Loch, and you see a small islet at the lake's center; a number of gray stones in a rough circle stand above the currant bushes.
"Is that the standing stones they mentioned? Do you think they could be connected to all this, sir?"
You remember, in what seems like ages ago standing in Gregor's tiny chapel, and gazing upon the lurid altar piece depicting St. George battling a dragon among such grim menhirs.
Be on your guard, gentlemen. I do not think we we lucked out. I think we were LED here, unless paranoia has taken me over.
Mr. Carter's words seem incongruous as the morning shines down on the tree-lined river bank.
"I'm in agreement cousin. I think it best to be on our guard. The fog seems to want us here, and... well, given our last erhm, engagement, I don't know if I'm fond of the morning mist rolling through the dell anymore."
Despite the obvious fact that it’s there in the first place, does Edward see anything about the scene or scenery that seems unusual or out of place?
The brush on the little islet is beaten down quite heavily.
Looking a little more closely (Evidence Collection), it appears that there are a couple of stone slabs just laid out flat among the bushes.
There's also some signs of recent excavation.
.
Edward take a deep breath of the cool Scottish air. He begins to feel a little more invigorated, and less like a man who's had the bloody hell beaten out of him.
He approaches the stone slabs cautiously, with an academician's eye.
You can see that there is a track, a gouging in the turf, as if a heavy bulk was dragged down the bank. The furrow in the earth leads straight down the slope, leading right to the water's edge.
How did those great stones, easily weighing tens of tons, get out to the island in the middle of the loch?
Mr. Carter is pushing his way through some brush to investigate the strange track; a branch tugs at his pocket, and Mr. Carter sees the amulet that he took from the cultist back at the cottage, as it begins to slide out from where he had placed it earlier.
Upon the island on the loch a heavy fog appears to creeping among the menhirs.
Henry lets out a low whistle. "This place. It feels strange, sirs. What possible use could those heathens have put it to?"
LCDR RS you suppress a shudder, as the humped gray forms of the standing stones, wreathed in fog, remind you of that nightmare vision you had from the cockpit of your plane of an eldritch city rising from the pacific ocean: the breeze from the Loch suddenly seems frigidly cold.
Edward pulls out the medallion and trembles as he stares at its emblem of a snake coiling around an inverted trident. He looks up at the coiling fog around the standing stone, back at the coiling snake. He shivers.
There must be some connection between this unthinkable scene and the engraving on this medallion. What do you think, Gentlemen?
Edward holds the medallion out in his palm so the others can see the detail.
Mr. Carter, as you look towards you two companions you notice that LCDR RS appears be visibly shaken; staring out across the Loch in a kind of trance of dread.
"The Webley Revolver (also known as the Webley Top-Break Revolver or Webley Self-Extracting Revolver) was, in various marks, a standard issue service pistol for the armed forces of the United Kingdom, and the British Empire and Commonwealth, from 1887 until 1963. The Webley is a top-break revolver and breaking the revolver operates the extractor, which removes cartridges from the cylinder. The Webley Mk I service revolver was adopted in 1887 and the Mk IV, rose to prominence during the Boer War of 1899–1902. The Mk VI, introduced in 1915 during the First World War, is perhaps the best-known model."
The mist is rolling in a great tide over the island, though strangely, it doesn't appear that the bushes of the island are bending in any breeze.
Dr. Hanmer, you seem to hear the shrill giggling of a little girl cutting through the fog.
The doctor hears the shrill giggling and shudders. He does his best to cast it from his mind, unwilling to fall to the same trick a second time.
The fog has now completely shrouded the island and its grim and silent sentinels, and is creeping, with what seems like an eerie purposefulness, across the waters of the loch.
So Mr. Carter is a little closer to the water's edge, and a little ways down a gentle slope, among some bushes, while LCDR RS and Dr. Hanmer are further back.
Because of the low brush where Mr. Carter is, his view of the loch is curtailed; and he doesn't see the dark shadow that seems to emerging from the fog's center.
Something seems to be slithering out of the fog: it looks somewhat like a dragon from Chinese mythology, but without any of the sinuous grace or grandeur; it eyes unblinking, luminous eye spots, its mouth like a lamprey's, filled with rings of needle-like teeth.
Its outer extremities seems vague and misty, trailing into the fog that wreathes the horror.
Difficulty 5 Stability test (assuming that everyone is high enough on the bank to see the thing as it emerges).
Something catches Edward’s attention out of the corner of his eye.
My eyes and ears must be playing tricks on me, he thinks.
He stays put, the murky water of the lake lapping at his feet.
LCDR RS and Dr. Hanmer have no curtain of brush and willows to veil the horror undulating across the surface of the loch: Difficulty 5 Stability test please.
Edward kneels down, peers into the water. He takes a whiff to see if it smells. Then, for a reason even he can’t explain, he dips the medallion into the loch.
Mr. Carter, there is a scent like ozone, like after a vigorous rain-storm, as you push through the brush towards the water's edge.
LCDR RS and Dr. Hamer, it seems like the dragon-eel hesitates in its forward gliding motion, even as Mr. Carter plows through the willows.
The doctor looks over at the Lieutenant to see if he acknowledges the movement of the dragon-eel.