[North Shore Nights] Chapter Three: Deepening Night.

Gavin


"I can certainly give it a shot," he says with a sigh, bending forward to peer at them, squinting. It's concentration and not short-sightedness that causes this, of course, as he attempts to dredge up anything which might be useful in deciphering the etchings - had he seen something very similar to this in Arkham? It seemed so long ago now, yet already fuzzy... perhaps it was somewhere else entirely (or even worse, nowhere at all).


Results for 5 dice: 3 successes [ 8 6 8 0 3 ] (TN: 8) (damage/extra)


Re-roll 10: Results for 1 dice: [ 1 ] (TN: 8) (damage/extra)
 
To Gavin


Arkham. Sure as the sun sets, you saw some of these at Arkham. But they were mainly catalogued in some old dusty book--a treatise on the occult from the late 1850s. Specifically the eye in the center and the two symbols that crop up the most: three parallel wavy lines and some sort of pictograph that just looks like a bunch of odd angles intersecting nonsensically. Who knows. But recalling the text, such things are supposedly drawn for mystical purposes. Either to create a 'gate' through which mystical power may come through or to gain the attention of a particular deity.
 
Gavin


"These pictographs are used in certain summoning rituals," Gavin lectures, drily - he doesn't realise he's doing it, but he's lapsed into a tone used exclusively by educators. "These were used either to call power, or a Power," he adds, clearing enunciating the capital "P" as he straightens his sleeves reflexively.
 
Garrison Blake


Blake's eyes close for a moment, then open again. "This can't be good. Does this sort of ritual take a long time to perform?"
 
Gavin


Gavin flounders a bit. "It depends on a lot of things, mostly the time of year - something to do with solstices, equinoxes, and so on - but with the proper attention to detail...well, it shouldn't take very long at all."
 
Garrison Blake


"Well. Here's one theory. This...Howard...must have summoned something. That something killed the elder Twilights. Then he just slimed out of here. As if we didn't have enough on our plates already...


"The other theory is even more frightening to contemplate. This was done by one of our own. Bears investigating. Gavin, I could use your help. We need to find out who's still walking. Get a head count. There's nothing down here. Next stop is upstairs. I need to check on the Castellan. Let's go."


With that, Blake turns and heads upstairs.
 
Gavin


"Uhhh...o-k..." He glances sideways at Valentine. "Psst. Why do we need a head-count?"
 
Valentine


Valentine grimaces. "Oh... you don't know. Upstairs looks like a bomb hit it. A bomb with claws and teeth... we're not sure how many are left."
 
Garrison Blake


"Nowhere, if you aren't up to it," says Blake. "Valentine can go with you. If he doesn't mind. More ground can be covered if we split up. I don't know who's left. The Guardians aren't down here. At least one Twilight is near final death. Seems more are likely. This appears like a deliberate strike. We need to assess damage. If you're not up to it, say so. I'll find someone who is."
 
Valentine


Valentine shrugs. "It's best if someone goes with you, and Blake can take care of himself. I'll go with you."
 
Garrison Blake


Blake gives a short bow to Valentine. "My thanks. I suggest you continue to check the laboratories down here. I'm going to go check on the Castellan. I'll meet you back down here when I'm done. See you soon."


Blake heads for the stairs, eager to see if his Master still exists.
 
To Blake, Valentine, and Gavin


You'll be continuing this line of discussion as you exit the lab into the narrow hallway. Lots of doors line both sides to either end of the hall. It's chilly. Gray concrete and steel and harsh overhead lights. Huh...a breeze. Down here? There'd be no real reason for a true A/C system. There's little ductwork overhead...
 
Garrison Blake


Feeling the air brush his skin, Blake stops. "Do you feel that? That air's not natural. No a/c down here. No windows. What's the source? I wonder...." Blake sniffs the air experimentally, trying to determine the direction of this draft....
 
To Blake


The first gust of air is always a doozy. Feels like your sinuses are freezing. Ah, there goes the sensation.


...


...


Good GOD, what the fuck is that stench? Oh, even decaying bodies in the middle of a sweltering Beijing summer don't smell that horrid.
 
Garrison Blake


A shudder runs through the Gangrel, and a previously non-existent gag reflex nearly triggers. "Do you smell that? Something unnatural is down here. I'm following that smell."


Blake sniffs - shallowly - trying to track the smell to its source.
 
Valentine


Valentine shrugs. "Oh joy. A foul stench. Something unnatural. Let's go down and look! This can only end well..."


With no further comment, he sets off after the Gangrel.
 
To the Trio


Blake's nose leads you down two halls and then hooking a right, giving you the impressing that you're heading in deeper. It's hard to tell, this place is weird in its sameness and no real signs saying where to go except the occasional bland sign giving a general direction to what you think is the exit. The breeze blows past you again. Minutes later it blows in from behind you. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. You'll reach the mouth of a hall seemingly at the rear of the bunker complex.


The source of the breeze it seems, the hall extends some twenty yards, ending in a short ceiling room with a grate in the center. Another breeze whirls past heading toward the room.
 
Valentine


Valentine grimaces. "For my next trick, perhaps I'll suggest we split up, and then I'll back around in darkened rooms frantically until I get gutted. Still, as long as I don't have sex, I'll be fine."


Testing the edge of his machete against his thumb, he continues "This is not the horror-movie role I'm comfortable in. I much prefer Team Psycho. But enough of this. Let's go meet the monster, shall we?"
 
To the Trio and Ourobouros upstairs


It starts as a tremor. Just an offbeat shaking for just a moment. Sort of a 'did that just happen?' kind of thing. Then the hissing sound reaches your ears. Huh, teakettle coming to a boil. Then the whistling starts as the shaking begins again. Even from far away, you see spider-web cracks begin in the concrete around the grate.


The room virtually implodes and goes black as a mass of concrete, rebar and dirt comes pouring down and something from below comes pouring in. Something's roiling in the darkness. Lights crackle and buzz out half way down the hall, but a black mass glistens wetly down in the dark, with many catlike eyes reflecting dimly.


And then you hear the whistling perfectly:


Tekeli-li Tekeli-li!


END CHAPTER
 
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