Play@YSDC

Friday March 13th, 1931 6.25pm
Church of the Hallowed Souls, Coast Road, Johnson Bayou, Cameron Parish, Louisiana

The sun was setting behind them as Lawrence and William strolled up to the church. The building had a reddish-pink hue this evening, as the sky promised more settled weather in the morning. In the meantime, a breeze tugged at their clothes and threatened to send hats spinning down the road.

Are you doing anything before going into the church?

William holds his hat securely on his head as he approaches the church.

I can't think of anything.

Lawrence follows, absent-mindedly feeling for the gun at his hip to make sure it's still there. It was Jerry's, once, the poor bastard; Lawrence had always suspected he was a firebug, but an instinct to set problems on fire was clearly one of the few things the brothers shared.

There was a strange sound, a bit like ’fwip, fwip, fwip…’ and an awkwardly smiling Father Ortega pointed from seats in the front pews to Lawrence and William. ”Yltrohs gnitrats eb ll’ew, taes a evah esaelp,” he said. The smile dropped from his face, and he pulled his hand away. “Hcruch elbmuh rou ot emoclew.”

He walked away backwards and turned to talk to one of the parishioners. At the same time, Lawrence and William also found themselves moving backwards, reversing the aisle, briefly stopping to hand over bibles to Bart Bordeaux, before leaving the church and hurrying back to Mrs Hebert’s house, under a sky that lightened the closer they got to their lodgings…

Inspired by this, obviously… https://youtu.be/5-iZT3O2TKE?si=mpTXddNLwE3NdBHT

Entering the church, Lawrence found it was already getting busy, with people sat chatting in the pews. For all it was a Friday night, the church was almost half-full. Mrs Hebert sat on her own near the front, talking to an older couple. Bart Bordeaux was by the door, greeting people as they entered, whilst his son was in a gaggle of other young folks, who sat at the back, swapping baseball cards.

A trio of neatly dressed young woman sat halfway down, talking among themselves, while Father Daigle and Father Ortega stood in hushed conversation by the altar. On seeing Lawrence, Father Ortega nodded to his fellow cleric and approached down the aisle, hand held out in greeting. ”Welcome to our humble church,” he said, with a slightly brittle smile. “Please have a seat, we’ll be starting shortly.”

The row with the carving was empty, but the back row on the opposite side was taken up by Ephraim Bordeaux and his friends. The pews in front of them were currently unoccupied, however.
As William let himself into the vestry, Father Daigle was just closing the door into the main body of the church. He briefly saw a number of parishioners but the door closed too quickly for him to determine if anyone was sat near the carving.

As Father Ortega had said earlier, the vestry was rather on the small side and William realised he’d have to hide behind the door or risk being seen. ”Don’t worry, I’ll leave it ajar when I go out so you should be able to see what’s happening,” said Father Daigle.

William nods. He'll keep an eye out for anyone sitting near the carving, as well as for anyone paying undue attention to Lawrence.

I immediately thought of that scene.

William heard the starting strains of the church organ and Father Daigle slipped out of the vestry, leaving the door slightly ajar as promised.

The music played for a few minutes before Father Ortega made his way to the lecture to begin the service. As he began to speak, the latch to the church door was carefully lifted and someone let themselves into the church.

Spot hidden, please.

William gets a good look.

Spot Hidden roll (64% skill) in the vestry:
d%

Lawrence towering over his fellow churchgoers, keeps his eyes peeled.

Spot Hidden 30%: 1d100

Although he craned his neck, the people sitting alongside Lawrence on his pew, and those in the row behind, stopped him getting a good look at the latecomer.

From his vantage point at the front, however, William had a much clearer view, albeit through a crack in the door…

A brown-haired man entered the church, quickly snatching off the cap he wore and blinking through his large glasses. He was dressed like a working man, with denim dungarees and chambray shirt, over which he wore a sports coat. Reverend Ortega looked up at the man as he entered, and he bowed his head and quickly took a seat on the back row.

William keeps an eye on the late arrival.

Lawrence opts to not make a spectacle of looking at whoever just entered, instead trying his best to look natural while he carefully watches the pew with the carving.

The man sat with his shoulders hunched and head down, while Reverend Ortega continued with the service.

William watches him carefully, especially checking to see if he tries to carve anything.

Father Ortega delivered his sermon with obvious enthusiasm, with Father Daigle’s assistance.

In the rear pew, the latecomer sat with his head down, whether in prayer of something else, it wasn’t clear.

At the end of the service, Father Ortega started to make his way to the back of the church so he could say goodbye to his parishioners as they made their way home. By the time he was half way down the aisle, the man was on his feet and out of the door, pulling a hat down sharply over his ears as he stepped out into the night air.

William signals to Lawrence to follow the man.

Lawrence, trying his best to not visibly acknowledge William, excuses himself to follow the man out the door. His fists tighten until the knuckles pop- he's sure he'll have to take a swing soon.

As Lawrence reached the church door, the man was trudging down the path, head down and shoulders hunched.

Once people are looking away and nobody is looking, William slips out of the vestry and makes his way toward the back. He checks the pew where the man had been sitting to see if he had carved anything or left anything behind before following Lawrence.

"I'm suspicious of the man who sat here," William tells the priest, "and we're going to follow him." He quickly describes the man. "Do you know who he is?"

Lawrence continues following the man until he is noticed.

The man trudged onwards into the night, heading back in the direction of the village, showing no sign of being aware that Lawrence was on his tail.

Father Ortega glanced in the direction of the door, but the man was now out of sight. ”If it’s the same man,” he said, uncertainly, “I think he’s one of the oilmen. He keeps himself to himself and he isn’t rowdy like the others so we don’t make a fuss about him being here.”

"Thank you, Father, I'd better get after him," says William, hurrying outside after Lawrence and making sure to hold onto his hat.

"Good service, wasn't it?" Lawrence remarks as William catches up with him, then lowers his voice to a a whisper as he glances towards the strange man: "Follow him on another path so we aren't both spotted."

"Yeah, it was good," says William. "Actually, my idea is to do what we did before. I'll follow you, but I'll be out of his visual range. Father Ortega doesn't know the man's name, but he thinks he's one of the oilmen. He said he keeps himself to himself and isn't rowdy, so they don't make a fuss. That sounds like someone who doesn't want to draw attention to himself. A spy, perhaps."

Listen 1d100

The man continued onwards, oblivious to Lawrence and William behind him. Five minutes later, they were making their way past the village store and along the coastal path towards the oilfields. The man still didn’t appear to realise he was being tailed.

William continues to follow discreetly.

Lawrence keeps off of the beaten path as he follows the man, trying to remain hidden in the foliage.

The further they passed from the village, the darker it became. Not pitch black, but dark enough so that it was difficult to see where they were going.

The man ahead seemed familiar with his route so progressed steadily. For Lawrence and William, however, keeping to the path and moving quietly was becoming increasingly challenging…

Can I have stealth rolls, please?

William is following from far enough back that he can't possibly be seen, just keeping Lawrence in sight, but he can't keep his footsteps that quiet.

Sneak roll (10% base skill) following the man:
d%

Sneak (10%): 1d100

Lawrence, being quite a large man, is not the best suited for creeping through the underbrush.

They could see the man’s shoulder’s suddenly hunch as he realised that he wasn’t alone. He stopped and turned around, peering into the darkness.

”Who-who’s there?” he called out, his nervousness clear in his voice. ”Is that you, Earl? It ain’t funny anymore!”

William remains motionless, not making a sound.

I had hoped that with his critical Listen failure, there'd be no chance he could hear us.

Natural History (51%): 1d100

Lawrence sounds like a man doing a decent-ish owl call.

The man seemed to accept that an owl could have caused the noise as his shadowy figure appeared to shrug, before turning and continuing along the path.

In the distance, it was just about possible to make out the outline of the oil derricks. Beyond those lay some buildings from which pinpricks of lights emanated.

Once Lawrence starts moving again, William resumes following Lawrence, keeping him within sight but staying too far back for their quarry to see him.

Lawrence continues following, but keeps a further distance this time; he's pretty sure of where this man is going, anyways, and isn't sure if the owl trick will work again.

They watched as the man made his way back to the camp, through the gate in the chain link fence and into one of the buildings, the door slamming shut behind him.

Back to your lodgings or anything else you want to do?

Lawrence and William hunkered down in the long sea grass by the side of the road so they could observe what was happening but not be observed themselves. An hour passed but, other than some of the inhabitants visiting a latrine by the fence, there was nothing else of note.

"Let's head back to the house and see if the others are back yet," whispers William. "If not, we can head back to Nashoba's and see if they're still around."

"Agreed," Lawrence says, hushed. "We'll have to see if we can find a way in that building. Maybe tomorrow night."

As they turned around to head back to the village, the darkness was suddenly disturbed as a gaseous fireball ‘whoomphed’ into the sky, off to their right, between the road and the shoreline… …

"Let's go check out what caused that," says William, peering at the source of the fireball. "For all I know that's normal, but it could be what Nashoba meant. It's hard to miss that."

"Damn." Lawrence states, resigned; he's just glad it's an explosion and not an evil snake God, although the strangeness of even thinking in such a way suddenly hits him a few seconds later. Just how divorced is he from the concerns of sane men? Lawrence breaks into a run towards the site of the fireball, his hand steadied on his gun.

Running, it took barely a minute for Lawrence and William to reach the site of the fire. Wreathed by the dunes and surrounded by a chain link fence with a large gap cut through, a series of dark, oily pools lay before them. The pools were approximately ten metres long and the same wide, and appeared to be filled with oil. The nearest one was ablaze!

Silhouetted by the flames was the buckskin-clad Nasoba, laughing triumphantly as the flames spread from the first pool to ignite a second nearby…

William nods. "I thought it would be him," he whispers. He looks around for any sign of Alex or Ivy, who he thought would probably have followed him.

"What in the hell is he..." Lawrence mutters, backing away from the light. This has got to be some kind of natural upwelling of oil- but what will happen if it isn't put out? Nashoba must have chosen this spot for a reason.

Natural History (51%): 1d100

"Well, he wanted attention," says William quietly. "This will get it. Where are Alex and Ivy? They should be here."

Natural History roll (10% base skill) about the pool of oil:
d%

"William, run back to town and tell anyone you can that there's a fire." Lawrence harshly whispers, drawing his--Jerry's--pistol. "I'll handle the old man myself- I'm not shooting unless I have to, but sometimes a man's got no choice."

"Be careful," whispers William, nodding. He runs back to town.

Lawrence steps through the gap in the fence, approaching Nashoba with his gun visibly drawn, but not yet aimed at him.
"NASHOBA!" Lawrence bellows. "I think you ought to sit still and explain yourself, Chief. This is a hell of a thing for a man to stumble on, you know that?"

Nasoba turned around, laughing. ”I told you! I told you I’d do it! They won’t be able to deny the damage these oil pits do now!” he said, waving his arms in the air in celebration.

As Lawrence watched, something struck him as a bit odd. Nashoba was between him and the flames and yet his shadow appeared across the burning oil. He had mere moments to try to put this together before the ‘shadow’ bulged and burst forth from the surface with a piecing shriek, an unholy apparition of tentacles slathered in burning oil, writhing in the night air!

SAN check please!

William could see the village in front of him start to light up as people pushed open their doors to see what the commotion was. As he ran, he heard a piecing shriek which rent the night air!

SAN 39: 1d100

Lawrence shrieks like an animal and, knowing no other solution to his problems, starts firing at Nashoba.

Handgun 57%: 1d100

"Fire!" shouts William as he runs to the village. "Oil fire!"

SAN loss = 1d3 (1d6) = 1 point loss.

Nasoba ducked as Lawrence’s shot flew well wide. ”You’re no different from all the other whites!” he snarled. “You say you’ll support us but resort to violence when you don’t agree with our actions!”

There was a sudden outbreak of shouting and screaming from the oilfields and some of the doors in the village closed as quickly as they had opened.

Then William heard a shot behind him…

"I have looked on the face of Mordiggian, old man! I have seen the future and past and what's in between! We are NOTHING TO THEM!" Lawrence raves, his teeth chattering and hands shaking with some sickening mixture of fury and terror. He takes aim again, this time at the thing in the oil pool, and fires.

Handgun 57%: 1d100

Damage 1d10+2: 1d10+2

The first thing William does instinctively is take cover, a habit he picked up during his brief stay in 1918 France. Then he draws his own pistol and carefully looks back the way he came.

Nashoba yelled in fear and anger as Lawrence’s bullet sped past him, whereupon it struck one of the oil tendrils with a kind of ‘shlup’ noise, before exiting the other side without doing any apparent harm!

Nashoba frowned as it dawned on him that Lawrence hadn’t been shooting at him at all! He spun around and staggered back at the sight that greeted him! ”Nakka mur!” he cried!

1d100

… …followed by Lawrence bellowing about Mordiggian before another shot was heard!

As William starred back the way he had come, he could see his friend now silhouetted against the flames, along with another man, presumably Nashoba. Behind the Native American, the oil burned, flames flickering towards the sky, roiling and twisting like… like… like thick, oily tendrils that flailed like some hideous octopoid creature made flesh… …

SAN check, please. Lose 1/1d3 depending upon whether you pass your roll.

"Not again..." moans William.

Cool, I didn't know that Spoiler-Button tags could be nested like this! With the old buttons, you used to not be able to do this.

Sanity roll (current level 39) for seeing the tentacled horror:
d%
How close am I to the boarding house? I'm thinking of grabbing our rifles.

Since there's not enough time to get the rifles, William turns and runs back toward Lawrence and Nashoba to get within pistol range. He's a better shot with a pistol anyway, but he doesn't expect his little peashooter to have much effect on the monster. Nashoba, on the other hand, could be vulnerable.

Already took care of the lost point.

The problem with missing brackets reminds me of hunting for missing parentheses when coding.

"You don't know? God almighty!" Lawrence cries out, realizing that he's just tried to shoot an innocent man, for his own now-warped definition of innocence; not only that, but his gun is worthless against this thing of living oil. What can he hope to do against such a thing?

Fight fire with fire, of course. He must think of the unthinkable...
"RUN, damn it! Get out of here before you get killed!"

Cthulhu Mythos 6%: 1d100

I swear this is gonna work someday.

Tentacle: 1d100

Damage: 1d6

As William ran up to the pool, an oily tentacle whipped out from the burning mass and caught Nashoba across his back with a resounding wet ‘slap’ as the Native American turned to run. The force of the blow sent him staggering forwards, almost colliding with Lawrence as a second tentacle reared up and struck out in the direction of the young farmer! It missed but burning oil sprayed around him, causing some of the dune grass to catch fire.

From the direction of the oiler’s camp, shouts of ”Fire!” could be heard and they could see a group of men running in their direction…

Tentacle: 1d100

"We have to go back to the boarding house and grab our rifles!" William tells Lawrence, leading him away from the monster. "And we have to get the villagers to turn back! Pistols won't help against that thing, and they don't have the range either! We can't afford to get close to it!"

"The thing's made of oil- a gun's not going to do a damn thing! I saw my bullet go right through it-" Lawrence shouts as he starts quickly backing away, coughing on the fumes and smoke from the many fires. If it's made of oil, maybe the thing can be burnt to nothing- it only emerged when Nashoba set it on fire!

Does the fire appear to be reducing the oil-thing in any way?

"As long as it has oxygen, it'll burn," says William. "I don't think water will help against flaming oil either. The oilmen would know the best way to fight an oil fire, as they're the ones trained to deal with it, but we can't get to them from here unless one of them was in the village for some reason. In any case, we have to retreat."