August 1924 - Once again I didn't get to run Instruments Yet Stranger, because all the groups at the guild yesterday were crowded into a single room, and me running a variety of strange and disturbing music - all of it essential to the campaign - for my players wouldn't have gone down well. *sigh* I suspect I'm going to have to just write the speakeasy scene up as an email and include mp3s of the tunes. Happily, I'd also prepared handouts for two other potential adventures in advance, so I ran The Pale God from Great Old Ones instead. Spoilers ahead.

But that didn't start until after the players and I sorted out who had what book, and who had read which. The McGinty Travelling Library have stolen so many interesting tomes over the years that the collection is becoming somewhat unmanageable, and reading them a full-time pursuit, especially since I exploded the number available with crates of other books that might be Mythos-related, but usually turn out to be occult arse-gravy of the weakest kind. They might get around to the Book of Eibon one day, but they've got Basil Valentine : His Triumphant Chariot of Antimony, and A History of Freemasonry to slog through first.

Rondale & The Amazing Julius want to start a Foundation to secretly fight the Mythos, but further complications arose with the number of artefacts McGinty has acquired - why lie, stole - and jealously hordes. He's the only surviving party member that knows about some of them. The list includes items in all three of Rondale & Guiliano's categories - 'Interesting', 'Dangerous' and ' DDH' - the latter being 'find a Deep Dark Hole and hope it never sees the light of day again'.

McGinty and Rondale are out of town at the start of the adventure, driving back to Arkham after picking up McGinty new custom-built Dusenberg Model J. The night is dark and stormy, rain is pouring down in buckets, the road ahead nearly invisible. A discussion about the need for some sort of reflectors set into the road arises.

Rondale OOC : But not if McGinty is involved. We don't want him going around decapitating cats and sticking their heads into the asphalt.
GM : No. McGinty goes around decapitating cats for entirely different reasons.

Although it would make directions interesting.

GM : 'Turn left at the tortoiseshell'

Arriving back at the business, they park the cars meet up with Givetti ( fresh out of hospital ) and head across the road to the house McGinty continues to claim as his own for no legal reason. Where they discover the phone has been ringing all evening, by somebody begging desperately for their help. Tooling up, they set off for the town square, where a dishevelled, rain-soaked and deathly pale figure is waiting. He's clearly not well, and he's about to get worse. The man staggers towards them, begging them "go to the house of the worm... destroy it!" and collapses screaming and convulsing. As Givetti and Rondale run forward to help, he splits open from temple to crotch, and thousands upon thousands of tiny white creatures like pus with spider's legs, pour out of the gaping but bloodless wound. Givetti, unsurprisingly, goes bug**** insane, and empties his pistol into the streaming mass, and flings the empty gun into the remains. Rondale, on the other hand, empties incendiary rounds into the heap. McGinty, on the other hand, is running around trying to catch one of the creatures in a bottle. Them they spend a few minutes line dancing on the bugs, trying to crush as many as possible before they can crawl and swim away through the puddles.

Gingerly picking through the smoking remains, they find an unused postcard from the Hotel Miskatonic, McGinty's phone number, a wallet with the victim's name, address, and money, and a room key. They then head back to McGinty's truck, before realising they probably shouldn't leave the corpse there for the gardeners to discover, especially given all the evidence they left on the scene.

GM : All those silver bullets are going to make an interesting addition to an already noteworthy autopsy.
The Amazing Julius : And I've got to find my gun! It's a registered firearm!
GM : Yup. You'll find it in the chest cavity, where you threw it

Corpse disposal is required. Bagging up the remains, Rondale and McGinty drag the corpse back to the truck, despite Givetti's mental state, and Rondale stands guard ready to squash any more of the bugs that might emerge.

GM : Bad corpse! Stop! Scaring! Smithers!

Some argument arises about where to take the corpse. Eventually Givetti is forced to pay McGinty to take the remains back to the auto repair shop. Givetti acquiesces - it's the kind of thing his Family have to do all the time anyway.

The corpse is stuffed into an oil-drum along with a pile of half-bricks, and dumped in the Miskatonic before dawn. But all this running around in the rain, and coming downstairs in the morning to find Bob the Pus-Spider running around in his bottle on the breakfast table, and faced with runny eggs on top of the memories from the night before, does The Amazing Julius no good at all and he is promptly hospitalised for something that soon becomes pneumonia.

Rondale & McGinty continue their investigations without him. This includes McGinty hiring the penthouse suite at the Hotel Miskatonic so they can ransack a room downstairs, a visit to a very dodgy attorney, and getting the royal tour of a Boston asylum whilst Rondale attempts to interrogate a woman who's been catatonic for 30 years. They manage the later by claiming McGinty is there investigating things to fund when he becomes Governor. The director of the institute of course falls over backwards to assist, and promises that all his staff will vote for him too.

GM : Why limit it to the staff? There's plenty of inmates too. McGinty - The Candidate That 9 Out Of 10 Lunatics Support.

Finally exhibiting some understandable caution, Rondale and McGinty refuse to enter the house in question, and limit their first visit to exploring the grounds. This uncovers an assortment of human remains, and they decide that calling in the cops would be a good idea at this point. Let them go in the house first.

GM : Yes, those Boston police really love you these days, don't they...

A reporter turns up as well, as the police and coroner are loading the last few baskets into their police truck. Alas, McGinty and Co. neglect to ask which paper he works for - it turns out to be the one that turned against McGinty the moment he revealed his political leanings. Leading to this headline the next day :

Gubernatorial Candidate Knee-Deep In Corpses
McGinty Uncovers Further Carnage At Death House

And further complicating their investigation of the house because now there are small crowds of curious onlookers hanging around. With Givetti back on his feet they sneak in late at night, and rig up the house to explode with a combination of diesel, dynamite, and a timed detonator. Why risk exploring the house when you can blow it to bits instead? McGinty's experience as a army sapper should prove useful here. Indeed, his happy explanations about the history of sapping and the use of decomposing pig carcases, when they return to their hotel, puts Givetti off the breakfast bacon as WELL as the eggs. They anticipate headlines about the explosion in the morning paper.

But there aren't any. And sneaking in again the next night shows that somebody somehow got into the house and removed the timer. McGinty resets the bomb, this time to explode if anybody interferes with the detonator, and they retreat again.

Still nothing.

Now quite irritated, McGinty sneaks back in AGAIN, during the day, whilst Rondale and Givetti distract the morbid thrill-seekers, and sets up the house to explode if anybody even opens the doors. And falls out a window making his escape. They go to leave, and realise one of the drawbacks of their scheme when the attorney shows up trying to find the missing tenant and the keys McGinty still hasn't returned. To stop him going into the house and blowing himself and the tourists sky-high, McGinty pays him off ( all that money in the dead man's wallet is proving handy ) and they go back the hotel confident that there is now no way any mysterious persons could get in or out of the house without being blown to bits.

Which may well be the case, but the house is STILL intact the next morning. Whereupon they decide "Screw subtle", drive up before dawn, smash a window, throw a bundle of dynamite with a long fuse into the basement, and flee. In the rear-view mirror the house goes up in a pillar of flame, and having finally succeeded in their attempted to reduce the Martensen House to a pile of burning wreckage, McGinty, Rondale & Givetti go their separate ways - Givetti returning to his stage magic tour, and the others to Arkham to get back into the business of auto repair and scamming the voting public.

GM : I have to admit, the warning "Go to the House of the Worm - destroy it!" did possess a certain ambiguity

The latter are quite enjoying the newspaper the next morning, until they get to the paragraph about the huge trapdoor discovered in the Martensen cellar, and the Boston police intention to investigate it as soon as the building stops smouldering. After some debate, and more arguments about having Bob The Pus-Spider running around in his bottle on the breakfast table, McGinty and Rondale decide they can't let this situation stand, and prepare for another night expedition back to the house, with more dynamite, grenades, and a small armoury.

GM : Probably wise - the Boston police haven't had a very good year in certain respects - seven killed trying to take down the Crimson Gang and their 'Nepalese Attack Boar', more arresting the Sylvan Night cult, another three at the Mansion of Madness... and what do we learn from all this? Leave cult-busting to the professionals.



The two park well down the hill and walk up to the ruin. To their irritation, the police have left a man on watch at the wreckage. At least they can argue political techniques whilst they wait for him to fall asleep. Slandering the opponents seems like a good idea.

McGinty : My opponent has done nothing to stop Boston police exploding into pus spiders! He says an invisible monster invaded his office!
Rondale : emulating a six-foot-tall invisible rabbit 'Hello Paddy...'
McGinty : Shut up Harvey



They argue plans for their spelunking expedition, whilst I prepare to introduce a new player.

McGinty : So we're sending our love down the hole

GM: The most important skills are Library Use, Spot Hidden, & Dodge. So you can anticipate what's going to eat you, see what's going to eat you, and - in theory - avoid being eaten.



But first McGinty strangles the watchman unconscious, stuffs a sock in mouth, and leaves him propped up against a wall with a $100 dollars in his pocket for the trouble. The situation down the hole is almost as vile as McGinty's sock, with thousands of the squirming pus spiders climbing over the walls and ladder and ceiling. A few gallons of gasoline and a flare clears the bulk away from the shaft anyway, but the tunnels at the bottom head off in every direction, and if they link up to the other tunnels they know exist under Boston, might well extend for miles. The squirming things drop onto their heads and shoulders on a regular basis, but happily, both thought to bring army helmets.

Both are alert enough to prepare an ambush when they hear something larger than the pus-spiders coming from ahead. It turns out to be a man, filthy with mud and crushed creature, miner's helmets long out of power, shotgun - an automatic shotgun!!!! - out of bullets, and mind out of sanity. As far as his profoundly disturbed mind can recall, he's been down here for hours, or possibly days, feeling his way around, crushing thousands of the things underfoot and underhand, until he saw their lights up ahead. He's very very glad to see them. But unsurprisingly, he's also severely scotophobic, obsessive-compulsive, and amnesiac, demanding pen and paper so he can draw intricate mathematical calculations and diagrams at every opportunity, and reduced to panic at any threat to take away his new flashlight. He doesn't remember much. Only that something very bad was going to happen, that his friends were fighting something in the tunnels, and that he had to get away. Gates are good. There's safety on the far side of Gates. Like the one they find shortly thereafter, and step through into tunnels even larger, and even more thickly swarming with pus-spiders.

There's a ladder over here too, leading up into a farmer's cottage. And, worryingly, daylight. They could be anywhere in the world, and to McGinty's fury, it turns out to be England. At least it still appears to be 1924 - they're starting to suspect the lunatic they found in the tunnels came from somewhen else. The farmer is working his fields nearby, and is clearly surprised to see them. As anybody would be, when three-mud-covered foreigners, in army clothes and steel helmets, carrying assorted shotguns, grenades and a machine gun, turn up and start asking you if you know there's tunnels swarming with pus-spiders under your house.

The farmer does know, but apart from increasing evidence that he's not quite right in the head, seems unconcerned by the fact. Or the claim that that McGinty and friends came through the tunnels, from America.

Farmer : Spiders? Spiders? Arr. 'Course I do. Spiders. Wha abarrem? They never 'urt nubuddy.

Farmer : America? Oh arr. Long frogging tunnel. People? People? So wha, people all 'bout tha frogging things. Evrywarr.



They ask him to show them where these other people in the tunnels are, which he seems happy enough to do, despite arming himself with a rock salt-loaded shotgun first, and muttering to himself all the way.

Farmer : Furge thangering muck witchellers rock throbblin' this time o' day Ur bin oughta gone put thickery blarmdasted zones about, gordangun, diddenum? Havver froggin' law onnum, shouldnum? Eh? Eh? Arn I?"



Hearing the sound of a child crying in a side tunnel, McGinty and Co. demand a detour. The child is Elspeth, the farmer's grandaughter, who seems very glad to see him and clutches to his leg, even though, she claims, it was Grandfather who brought her down here in the first place and told her to wait. He pats the child affectionately on the head, and asks if the men still want to see the other people in the tunnels. They'd rather get the girl back up into the house first, so they retrace their steps, and Grandfather heads up first, opens the trapdoor, and helps his granddaughter out of the hole. Then slams the trapdoor down on McGinty and the rest, heaving sacks of grain or something on top of the hatch.

Cursing their gullibility, McGinty stays at the top of the ladder, trying to shoot his way out. Down below, Rondale and Santorio note a marked increase in the activity of the pus-spiders, and the sound of something large moving in the darkness. Santorio shrieks "It's coming! It's coming!" and scrambles up the ladder, trying to push his way past McGinty at the top, even though the hatch is still closed. Rondale is pursuing closely, because he threw a flare and saw what was coming.

Despite all the screaming and panic and the loathsome plasticity of the thing oozing slowly up the shaft behind them, McGinty manages to heave the hatch open with a superhuman burst of panic, and they tackle the farmer to the ground before he can shoot them, grab Elspeth, and run for their lives. Not least because the thing, now filling most of the cottage, seems completely unconcerned by all the grenades and incendiary rounds and machine-gunning and magic they try to use against it.

Which is when things get strange. Stranger. Their flight peters out, and they look at each other in some confusion. They can't remember what they were running from.

McGinty : Why were we running?
Rondale : I don't know. I was running because you were running.



Cautiously sneaking back to the bend of the road, they see the cottage in ruins. They remember the tunnels and the pus-spiders and gunning the farmer down, but can't for the life of them remember what it was that provoked such panic and destruction. They decide they should try and find some authorities to hand Elspeth over to, and head down to the nearby village of Camside to report to the police, and send a telegram to America asking for some way to get home. McGinty, instead, heads to the pub, to insult the local beer and try and pay with American dollars. The publican holds his tongue, partly due to McGinty being grossly over-charged for the pint, but also because he's still carrying the machine-gun.

Rondale is trying to explain what happened to the town's constable, after given his name, and Office of (US) Naval Intelligence ID. His efforts are not helped by the arrival of McGinty and Santorio.

Constable : And do you have a hunting permit for that shotgun, sir?
Rondale : No. That's why I haven't been using it.
Constable : Perhaps you could put it on the counter there?
Rondale : *puts the freshly-fired weapon on the shelf, and goes on to explain the situation at the house, where a shot-gunned corpse awaits the arrival of the authorities*



McGinty arrives, still drinking his pint, mud-covered, and bearing his machine gun.

Increasingly cautious constable : And do you have a license for that weapon sir?
McGinty : Sure thing - here ya go *hands over licence, which has his full name and address*
Constable : This is an American licence, sir.
McGinty : Yeah, that's right, we're from America.
Constable : I... see. And when did you arrive in the United Kingdom?
Santorio : About 90 minutes ago? We came through a tunnel.
Constable : I.... see. If you gentlemen could come through here? Just wait in this cell a while while I make you some tea and make a few phone calls.



The way McGinty exploits his accent to exercise his dislike of English cops - referring to him as Orificer & C*ntstable - does nothing to help matters. Although he does hand over his weapons when asked.

McGinty : OK, here ya go *hands over Tommy-gun*
Constable : *adds it to the pile* Thank you
McGinty : Oh hang on, I suppose you'll be wanting this too? *holds up grenade*
Constable : *accepts it gingerly* Is there anything else, sir?
McGinty : Oh yes, this one too. *waits until Constable has his hands full* Gettim! *jumps the officer and punches him unconscious



The trio make their escape out the back window, avoiding the small crowd now gathered outside the building to watch, pausing only to punch a neighbour out with one hit and steal the copper's wallet.

McGinty : We're gonna need some English money, after all.



Escaping the subsequent manhunt by hiding under hedgerows and sneaking along until they reach the nearest town, and hole up in an abandoned house until nightfall, and Rondale can summon an invisible monster to fly them home. He'd summon a Winged Spirit Of The Air instead, but McGinty left the whistle back in Arkham. Santorio spends most of the wait inscribing Gate calculations on the walls, or at least the ones McGinty hasn't copied the summoning ritual onto. The flight back to New England isn't much fun either, what with the rubbery, invisible tittering mouths slobbering all over their skin, and the speed of thousands of miles an hour over the moonlit Atlantic, and Santorio's shrieking scotophobia. They were very lucky the night was cloudless enough to cast the ritual, given the police arrived at the house seconds after they started.

Now comparatively relaxed, McGinty and Rondale settle down to interrogate their new pet lunatic about his origins, and go through his wallet. It includes his Boston address, Drivers Licenses and ONI identification dated ten years in the future. But he can't remember much about how he got to tunnels under Boston in 1924. He remembers he started in tunnels under Boston, because some kind of Bomb was going to go off... and there were deadly white flowers... and that the tunnels were not as safe as he and his friends had hoped, and that his friends were holding THINGS off whilst he completed a spell...but his memory remains deeply confused.

They do try and get some important information out of the poor guy though. Such as who wins the World Series Baseball this year, and which stocks to invest in. Santorio vaguely recalls that New World Industries do very well, and McGinty buys $10,000 dollars worth. Also, they want to know if McGinty wins the upcoming election. Alas all Santorio can recall is that something happened to one of the candidates... and that there was some scandal... and McGinty had to leave the country suddenly, just after the elections in January 1925.

He does recall he was recruited by ONI in 1925. Something was happening in Egypt? It involved a mummy... but the rest is a blank.

The trio try to recall what it was that they were running from. They can deduce it was something large, and very scary, and probably immune to anything they tried against it. This makes them unhappy, and they resolve that the next time they find themselves overseas they'll hunt monsters that aren't immune to bullets.

McGinty : You know what always helps me remember? Breakfast! Go make some.

McGinty : I know! How about Australia. I hear they have drop-bears there that eat campers.
Rondale : Drop-bears.
McGinty : Yeah, they're animals, they can die
Rondale : But it's Australia
McGinty : Well maybe some have got into America now.
GM : Sneaky immigrant drop-bears
McGinty : Yeah. F***ing immigrant drop-bears.



An Arkham police officer arrives at the shop - they've just received word that one Patrick McGinty, given this address as his own, and two associates, are wanted for murder and assault in the UK, and they've come around to enquire as to his likely whereabouts. They're quite surprised to find him there. United Kingdom to the US in less than 24 hours? Impossible. McGinty uses this opportunity to mock ruthlessly.

McGinty : So I was here in Arkham the very same day I supposedly killed somebody in England? ****, I must be a good shot.
Cop : Yesss. Sorry to bother you Mr. McGinty.
McGinty :*turns and points finger West* Look! I'm killing somebody in Japan now! Bang! Bang!



Rondale & Santorio head back down to Boston to see if Santorio is living at the same address in 1924. He is, and as 1930s Santorio hides and gibbers in the car, Rondale talks to the gentleman, a scholar and historian who knows nothing about ONI or the Mythos, apparently. Rondale pictures the report he's going to have to write up for his superiors.

Rondale : *headesk* F*** my life



McGinty heads over to Martensen House to pick up his truck - which, thanks to amazingly good luck, the police haven't found yet. The police themselves, of course, did not react well to their watchman being assaulted, and went into the tunnels to apprehend those responsible. From what McGinty can gather, they took one look at the squirming mass of pus-spiders, and despite the footprints leading into the hole and not coming out again decided "**** this" and ordered the hatch concreted over.

McGinty is of course quite pleased with the incredible success with which they survived the last day's events, and the fact that it's apparently not going to cost any more lives.

McGinty : We arsed through that completely cheeky.



Of course, back in the UK, the police are investigating another ruin and shaft...