[IC] Chapter 4: The Wergyn Estate

[Mr. Handy]

Cynthia keeps pressing the medallion against the thing, not sure of what else she can do. "We'll have company soon," she says. "Our late friend is approaching."

[LTD1969]

Professor Garrett flails desperately at the fiend.

Sword 20%

[dice]0[/dice]

And that's a bad miss...

[jp1885]

It is the turn of the fiend...

The creature meets Tereshchenko’s attack:-

Brawl,[dice]0[/dice]

Possible damage,[dice]1[/dice][dice]2[/dice]

Thankfully missing you by some distance.

Dodging Miss Knight:-

Dodge,[dice]3[/dice]

With a hiss of triumph the creature jerks away from you.

Professor, you swing the sword wildly, desperately; so much so that the momentum swings you around. Disoriented, you let go of the weapon, flinging it into the shadowy maw of the passageway (from whence the shuffling noise can be heard growing ever closer).

The fiend emits a gurgling chuckle, almost casually lashing out at you.

Brawl,[dice]4[/dice]

Possible damage,[dice]5[/dice][dice]6[/dice]

Perhaps almost too casually! In reacting to your farcical attack, the fiend also flails wildly, almost tripping over a rock. It staggers backwards to right it’s balance, giving you all a few precious seconds to act unmolested.

[Whitehorse]

round 1: Grigori takes advantage of the fiends stumble to reload...

round 2: A quick glance to be sure ex-Pritchard is not a more imminent threat (unlikely), then he fires point blank at the monstrosity...

50% shotgun,with bonus dice for point blank, [dice]0[/dice], [dice]1[/dice]

Damage,[dice]2[/dice]

[jp1885]

BOOM!

Once again your ears rattle as the sound of the blast rings around the confined space.

Even then however you are sure you hear a mournful sigh as the cadaverous figure before you is thrown against the muddy wall, collapsing in a jumbled heap of rotten bones and torn parchment skin.

Somehow, something tells you that the foul sorcery has ended.

Or has it..?

For the shuffling behind you continues...

As feared, the corpse of your comrade drags itself into view, leg joints cracking from where they were broken during it's fall down the ladder. As the talisman around Miss Knight's neck glows to an almost red-hot intensity, it stops to take in the scene.

After a few tense seconds, it grunts in satisfaction; it's lolling head trying to nod.

"Aye," it gurgles in the unmistakable burr of Mr. O'Kent, "ye did it. Yon talisman kept it's magic down long enough. Now run it through with it's own sword - that'll cut it's black soul from this 'ere world f'rever."

Shall I ask you for a SAN roll?

No, I think not.

[Whitehorse]

While perhaps retaining his sanity, Grigori is nevertheless in a state of high-alarm...

"The sword, professor...? What did you do with the sword!?"

A spot hidden (55%) I suppose?,[dice]0[/dice]

[Mr. Handy]

"It flew off down the tunnel," says Cynthia, exhaling with relief. She keeps the talisman pressed against the fiend to make sure it stays down. "Would one of you gentlemen care to do the honours? I'm not strong enough."

[jp1885]

It is only a short matter of time before the sword is located (although having to edge past the swaying corpse of Mr. Pritchard to get into the tunnel is rather unpleasant).

Acting as directed, you plunge the ancient weapon into the bony form of the thing that was once the evil Norman knight deLancey. There is a slight waft of putrid air, then nothing - any semblance of life or animation, however unnatural, is gone.

Almost immediately there is a sigh and Pritchard's body crumples forward, as if falling asleep.

Miss Knight, you feel a brief flare of heat from the talisman around your neck, before it reverts to cold stone.

And then...

Nothing. All is quiet and still.

The climb back up to the ruined church is uneventful and you emerge to be greeted by a clear, starry night sky, devoid of mist and drizzle.

---------------------------------------------

The next few days are bright and crisp with autumnal sun, lifting the moods of both investigators and villagers alike. The remainder of your stay in Wergynstone is quite a pleasant one, buoyed by the arrival of Dean Leigh and the solicitor Mr. Yem.

Having paid a visit to Major Perryman, they bring news that the Squire has taken ill and intends to take an extended sabbatical at a health spa in Switzerland. of his sinister cronies, the household staff were relieved to report that, in the face of a number of police enquiries, they have slunk back to the Midlands.

The pugnacious Mr. Lewis, having abandoned the party, has incurred the wrath of his uncle somewhat, and the Dean cannot help but smirk when he mentions how the fellow's stipend has been drastically reduced. There is talk of missionary work among the poor and deprived until he can prove himself worthy gain.

As for that troublesome parcel of land: arrangements have been made for the transfer of ownership from the Provost of Eton to the Church of England (in exchange for a modest charitable sum to the school). The body of Mr. Pritchard will be brought up and taken for a proper burial in his native Berkshire. The remains of O'Kent will similarly be buried in the local churchyard. Of certain a certain other corpse... well, it shall remain buried under the old church - properly consecrated with the appropriate rituals (although what these ritual are, Dean Leigh does not elaborate).

And so, unless there is anything else you wish to add, this humble tale is at an end. I hope it gave you at least a modicum of entertainment and you have my thanks for taking part.

[Whitehorse]

Grigori Tereshchenko takes some days to recompose himself from his agitation. Though his fine moustache is now streaked with grey, he takes some time to tour the villages and bywaters of this region, admiring the scenary and mooching around in musty book and antique shops, nominally for a bargain, or a psalter that might with a squint, or a little assitance, be a great rarity. Though really he is simply looking for his old self, his old state of mind...

Perhaps he'll find it in due course.

Should they tarry, he enjoys communing over tea and cake, or sometimes steak and ale, with Cynthia and Henry. They don't speak a great deal about what has passed, but they share the odd furrowed brow, and enjoy the simple pleasures that good company can bring. Mentions of crypts and corpses are entirely off the menu...

OOC:   Many thanks JP. And many thanks Mr Handy and LTD1969. Some nice writing and atmosphere that came to a good crescendo. Can you remind me, was this based on a specifice James tale?

[jp1885]

OOC:   Thanks for your kind words! The scenario is loosely based on the M.R. James story Count Magnus, with a dash of folklore courtesy of Mary Leather (she writes of a 'cunning man' called O'Kent). I also incorporated elements of the classic COC scenario The Haunting.

[Mr. Handy]

Cynthia is still exhilarated by the exciting adventure she just had, and she plans to write a fictionalized account of it, changing the names and passing it off as a work of fiction. After a life of daydreams, it was thrilling to have a real adventure. While she probably won't do anything quite like it for the rest of her life, she always has her vivid imagination.

OOC,You're welcome, and thanks to you too.