'Onto the roof?' Nodding in understanding, Angus bangs on the door harder. "Then it's even more important ta wake tha director."
[dice=perception]1d20+9
The moon is briefly hidden as a cloud passes overhead, casting the entirety of the camp into a blackness more intense than mere night.
At first, there is a moment of silence... or a moment that is too silent. Then, from somewhere within the Director's Residence, Helena detects a new auditory phenomenon which is entirely unlike anything in her previous experience. It combines the high-pitched droning of a buzzing winged insect, perhaps comparable to that of wasp or a bee, but much higher pitched and faster in rhythm, with what can only be described as the choked residuals of an anguished human scream. It is as if the victim had been blessed by nature with an operatic voice of great power and depth, and was attempting to wail in a banshee keening that would shatter glass, but had been restricted by a power that forced their throat into dimensions no greater than a flimsy reed.
"We must get inside someone is being attacked Angus"
Is all she says pushing the horror from her mind
"We must get inside someone is being attacked Angus"
Is all she says pushing the horror from her mind
The door of the Director's Residence gives nosily under the weight of Angus' assault. The heavy wooden portal swings inwards with a gale force and shakes the exterior wall as it collides with the barrier.
She nodes and waits as directed.
'We can't let this thing get to the director.' As the door give way, Angus stumbles over the threshold, telling Helena, "Stay behind me Miss Van Der Ahe." pausing for a moment, "An' shoot anythin' tha' isn't tha director." Gathering his wits about him, he Shines the flashlight around the room.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
The flashlight at first appears to be broken, as the bold Scott is able to see nothing but darkness, despite the illumination yielded by his torch. Then... he quickly realizes that the chamber is consumed by some kind of palpable blackness that resolutely resists and attempt to disperse its substance.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
She looks past him at the darkness then back.
"I will come"
Is all she says. Following Angus
'Blast!' At first, shaking his torch, Angus realizes the torch is working, just not penetrating the darkness. He calls out shaking his head, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "Well tha lord hates a coward!" He turns back and looks at Helena shrugging, "Ma apologies Miss VOn Der Ahe, apparently ma torch cannot pierce tha darkness. I need ta check on tha director, but you are under no obligation ta follow me in ta the house."
Angus' voice echoes eerily in the darkness, as if the strange pall which hangs over the room were somehow swallowing and deadening his harshly barked inquiry.
'Blast, maybe I should have asked her to go get help. Too late now.' Turning and nodding toward Miss Von Der Aha Angus readjusts his grip on the torch and his pistol and moves into the foyer, gesturing, "Ah believe tha sleeping quarters are tha' direction."
[dice=perception]1d20+9
'Blast this torch is doing me no good at all. but I can't leave the director in this.' turning the torch off, and tucking it into it's case, Angus shifts his revolver into his left hand and draws the claymore with his right. "Miss Von Der Ahe, tha room is dark as pitch, if ya still wan ta follow me Lass, I recomend ya place her hand on ma back or grab tha belt, I'll use ma sword as a walkin' stick."
He proceedes through the foyer at a very slow pace keeping his senses keen for any sound or possible light from some other sources. Using the sword to tap around walls and floor, making sure he doesn't run into anything. Trying to remember the exact locations of the parlor, and guessing where the doorway to the sleeping quarters might be.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
[dice=knowledge: structure?]1d20+2
The Director's Residence is not a new construction -- it has been a fixture of Mohenjo-Daro dig site for several seasons at least.
Helena followed,
Helena followed,
Helena is unable to make out anything of significance within the gloom.
Moving very slowly through the stygian darkness, Angus attempts to proceed to where he believes the staircase should be. Using the sword like a blind-mans cane keeping his Wembley revolver at the ready, his eyes and ears as alert as possible in the eerily palpable darkness.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
Moving very slowly through the stygian darkness, Angus attempts to proceed to where he believes the staircase should be. Using the sword like a blind-mans cane keeping his Wembley revolver at the ready, his eyes and ears as alert as possible in the eerily palpable darkness.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
He proceeds through the foyer at a very slow pace keeping his senses keen for any sound or possible light from some other sources. Using the sword to tap around walls and floor, making sure he doesn't run into anything. Trying to remember the exact locations of the parlor, and guessing where the doorway to the sleeping quarters might be.Moving very slowly through the stygian darkness, Angus attempts to proceed to where he believes the staircase should be. Using the sword like a blind-mans cane keeping his Wembley revolver at the ready, his eyes and ears as alert as possible in the eerily palpable darkness.
Helena and Angus make their way carefully around the periphery of the lounge that immediately abuts the foyer of the Director's Residence. Only the closely-stacked book cases with their elaborate ornamentation, a striking combination of neo-classical and classical Indian influences, are visible on the edge of the large room. As they pair reach the entrance to the upper floor, the strange perception of suppressed sound appears to dissipate, and the disturbing vocalization of some kind of violent strangulation erupts once again.
'It seems like the darkness is ...less...what?' Hearing the disturbing violent eruption, Angus bounds up the stairs towards the noise.
Angus explodes with an incredible burst of taurine energy up the narrow stairway, but his forward charge is cut short by the interposition of a strong doorway, built up of several levels of layered planks, and bound with steel rivets to further increase it's durability.
It seems strange that such a barrier should exist within the confines of an impromptu private residence...
'A door? Why is there a door here?' Dumbstruck Angus stumbles to a stop at the top of the stairs. Sheathing his longsword, testing the knob as he speaks to Miss Von Der Ahe over his shoulder. "Ah hae na idea why someone would put a door at th' top o' th' stairs, bit it looks tae sturdy ta knock down.' he gestures at the lock with his Wembley, "I may hav ta blow it open."
There is a lock on the door, an elaborate device which takes the shape of a small bas relief made of a shiny metal, perhaps burnished copper or brass. This relief is embossed with the image of a small soldier holding a gun. Curiously, the solider is attired in garb which would be more at home in the era of the English Civil War than the present age.
Seeing the door it looks off, wrong and in a way she can't place.
Pushing past Angus and looks at the door lock, then holsters her gun.
"Bow zit up, I have a better idea"
Reaching into her dig pack she comes back with a roll of fabric.
Inside is a set of lock picks.
"I use zem on small items we dig up"
She takes out to and works on the lock.
She is way to good at picking locks
.
Seeing the door it looks off, wrong and in a way she can't place.
Pushing past Angus and looks at the door lock, then holsters her gun."Bow zit up, I have a better idea"
Reaching into her dig pack she comes back with a roll of fabric.
Inside is a set of lock picks."I use zem on small items we dig up"
She takes out to and works on the lock.
** spoiler omitted **
The elaborate lock clicks with a restrained, but satisfying indication of the adventuresome professor's success.
She steps to one side, puts her tools away, and pulls her pistol once more.
"I would like to do that"
She ways for Angus to enter.
'Miss Von Der Aha carries lock picks?' Turning as Helena holsters her weapon, explaining her idea. Angus raises an eyebrow, as he step down and lets her move to the door.
'and she knows how to use them, she is truly a woman of many...talents.' As the door clicks, he nods approvingly, moving back to the top of the stairs. "Th' neist time we hae a dram ye'll hae tae tell me whaur ye learned tae dae that."
Quickly opening the door he steps off of the staircase, looking for what should be the master bedroom and listening for any of the odd strangulation sounds.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
'Miss Von Der Aha carries lock picks?' Turning as Helena holsters her weapon, explaining her idea. Angus raises an eyebrow, as he step down and lets her move to the door.
'and she knows how to use them, she is truly a woman of many...talents.' As the door clicks, he nods approvingly, moving back to the top of the stairs. "Th' neist time we hae a dram ye'll hae tae tell me whaur ye learned tae dae that."
Quickly opening the door he steps off of the staircase, looking for what should be the master bedroom and listening for any of the odd strangulation sounds.
[dice=perception]1d20+9
The private chambers of Sr. Percy Clausden occupies the majority of the upper floor of the Director's Residence. The hardwood floor of the large chamber is mostly covered by a lush Persian rug. The chamber's primary furnishing is woven of innumerable threads vibrantly tinted in all the colors of the peacock's tail into a veritable mazework of complex geometric designs. The walls are covered with lacquered panels which reproduce the elaborate statuary of Indian temples. The edges of the room are taken up by sumptuous leather arm chairs, the upholstery of which is held firmly in place by rows of glistening brass tacks.
All of these furnishings are speckled to a greater or lesser degree with a coat of fresh blood.
The large desk facing the bay window, and set between the two exterior doors which provide access to the Residence's second story balcony, is shattered into innumerable pieces, the frame of the sturdy work bench reduced to little but splinters, and the large marble writing table pummeled to dust.
In the midst of this wreckage stands an immense pale reptilian beast. The abomination possesses a dozen sturdy legs. Its head is some bizarre admixture of a carnivorous dinosaur and a crocodile. Its snout is dominated by a ridge of horns, each taller than the last. The final horn is an immense ridge of keratin that must be almost the height of an adult man, if not greater. The creature's entire body is covered by thick scales which are ridged in resemblance of an alligator turtle.
In front of the creature rests what appears to be the dismembered body of the Director. Sir Clausden's head has been ripped clean from his neck, and bright red blood fountains from the gaping absence, splattering across the large room.
The creature then opens its mouth in a hideous grin, revealing several rows of shark-like teeth, serrated on each side. It holds the late Director's head within its incisors.
Suddenly, the eyes of the decapitated head burst open violently, slightly bulging with the effort. Percy's mouth gapes open reflexively a moment later, imitating a fish.
Then, a booming voice issues forth from some unknown recesses, through the gaping aperture of the dead man's lips, reverberating violently throughout the room, as if it were shaken by an earthquake.
Then, a booming voice issues forth from some unknown recesses, through the gaping aperture of the dead man's lips, reverberating violently throughout the room, as if it were shaken by an earthquake.
Then, a booming voice issues forth from some unknown recesses, through the gaping aperture of the dead man's lips, reverberating violently throughout the room, as if it were shaken by an earthquake.
She is shaken there are no two ways about it, she has never seen anything like this horror. Then as the voice comes
Mintgod what is this madness?
She is shaken there are no two ways about it, she has never seen anything like this horror. Then as the voice comes
Mintgod what is this madness?
The booming voice begins to approximate some kind of odd, archaic admixture of Hindi and Sankskrit.
"The Glorious and Eternal Queen of the Endless Hraamfaghutan of Invincible Raambhagvatu bids thee greetings."
Upon pronouncing this strangely polite The hideous reptilian closes its rows of serrated teeth as if they were a osseous portcullis, and then slightly tips cocks its enormous head as it flashes a demonic grin.