Episode 26: The Warehouse Plan

So the team assembled to enact The Plan.

The basic idea was sound. Forsyth suggested the team secure a large crate, secrete themselves inside and have the crate delivered to Dirk Cairo's Boulder Warehouse. There was some lively discussion, then some more when Waldmont insisted on bringing his rifle, which demanded the crate be able to accommodate it. At this point Wilhelm, Burke and Copperfield refused to have anything to do with the insanity and decided to go drinking and gambling in the low dives of Boulder¹.

Fogg, Forsyth and Waldmont constructed a special lid for their crate, one that could be secured from the inside. Fogg insisted that the crate be clearly marked "Fragile" and "This Way Up", and all were careful to arrange enough screened gaps that breathing would not be a problem yet their hiding place would not be discovered. Having forged the necessary paperwork (carefully checked at the Denver Showroom last session), teamsters were hired and our modern day Athenians locked gthemselves into their present day Trojan Horse.

The plan worked beautifuly, and in no time at all the crate was delivered and brought inside the warehouse just before the close of business and a change of shift for the guards.

Once darkness fell the team opened the lid and went exploring. The office was located and examined, but Forsyth, perhaps elated by the way the guards did not seem to notice his lantern's light through the windows, attempted to crack the floor safe, and made such a pig's ear of the affair that the combination dial snapped off!

Meanwhile Fogg and Waldmont were busy prying open crates. The warehouse was aparently used to store old rifles a couple of 18 pounders and dynamite.

So it was a little inconvenient when two of the guards, alerted by safebreaking and crate opening, came into theater and demanded an explanation with extreme prejudice. it was about now that our heroes realized that the ceiling was actually the lower hull of an aether flyer. The noise of a collapsible ladder being lowered from a now-open port added a touch of drama to an already drama-soaked situation. A crewman emerged, spotted Waldmont and challenged him, and unbearably bright lights suddenly glared from the hull of the aether flyer, lighting the warehouse brighter than the noonday sun. The other guards were not going to miss that kind of light and they burst in on the team.

The adventurers gave a good account of themselves, and the crewman on the ladder was killed. More gunfire rang through the warehouse and as the battle raged the stalwart heroes realized that the roof of the warehouse was opening, powered by sandbag couterweights, and the aether flyer cast off, sailing into the night sky, plunging the warehouse into darkness again.

Although the guards were implacable and extremely violent, the team were able to kill all but one, whom Rev. Fogg subdued with his trademark thump in the snoot, this time tempered with less-than-lethal intent. This worthy was tied up while further exploration was undertaken.

A basement office was discovered, which yeilded up more evidence of Brotherhood skullduggery and a mask recognizable as a Greek theatrical "Crius" mask. The plot thickened. There was also a communication, speaking of some sort of test at "The Lodge"

Waldmont used some of his considerable financial clout to persuade the remaining guard that he should relocate his family to California - at once, and the adventurers went to recce the ranch at Castle Rock. In town they discovered many disgruntled former ranchhands complaining how they had been replaced with a new crew of thugs. An inestigation of the ranch from a nearby concealed vantage revealed a concentration of guards that precluded a frontal assault, so the team retired to consider their plan of action.

It was at this time that they made the acquaintence of a man who claimed to be a member of some odd American fraternal club whose entire membership apart from the erstwhile speaker had vanished wthout trace durng a planned initiation ceremony. Such was the scare thrown into the informant that he announced he was gettin' outta town. He did draw the adventurer's a map to what he called the "lodge" - which appeared to be in the middle of a forest.

The three adventurers bolstered their courage, each according to his tastes, and they set out for the location on their crude map, which turned out to be not a lodge at all, but a dry well with a meta staple ladder set into the shaft walls. By the well was a wrecked carst and the corpse of a horse showing signs of wolf attacks. Nearby the corpse of a wolf was discovered. Both animals looked oddly decayed and battered, and here was a faint odour coming from each corpse.

Acquiring some miner's helmets and rope from ghe wrecked cart, the three adventurers descended in to the well, which opened into a cave. The walls were adorned with priitive paintings, though Rev. Fogg was dubious that these were genuine aboriginal work and declared they were crude forgeries.

Progressing through the cave, encountering more cave paintings, and saltings of golden nuggets, the brave adventurers began postulating that this was all set dressing for some sort of ritualistic parade. There was something in the placement of the nuggets and the progression of the cave paintings that was suggestive of a serial promenade for an initiation. It certainly fitted with the naming of this place as "The Lodge".

And so eventually the team made their way into a very large cavern where a terrible scene confronted them. Dead bodies scattered around, well over a dozen. All torn and blistered.

They also found an imrovised fortification blocking a small side-chamber, also with a population of dead bodies bearing terrible wounds. There were signs that the smaller group had tried to use fire in their defense, and though they were dead Forsyth noted that the fortifications were all in place and the team had to break through them to cofirm their worst suspicions. All dead, all wearing robes. All with horrible wounds.

The presence of a well with what looked like clean water, a chalice of ornate design and more of the cave paintings suggested to the increasingly worried adventurers that this would have been the scene of the triumphant conclusion of whatever initiation was to be held. The team decided to investgate deeper into the main cavern. Perhaos there was more to be found than dead bodies.

The corpses were naked, all except for one individual, killed in what was onviously a fanciful "summoning circle". This body had golden robes and a ceremonial wand or sceptre clutched in its hand. In front of the circle was a deep hole, possibly a dry well. At the bottom of this was some sort of device, massive, clock-like, with broken glass around it and some remains of red powder. The well walls were covered in red powder.

And now the team became aware that the floor had a faint red tint, as though it was covered in a fine dusting of red chalk. Fogg, Waldmont and Forsyth looked at each other in horror. They too had a fine coating of red dust on them, red dust that could only be ... the dreaded Red Sands!

A horrible narrative suggested itself, of an innocent initiation iterrupted by the erruption of the Red Sands and its distribution over the cave at the height of the proceedings. Of the victims overcome, then tearing each other apart. Of a desperate last stand, and the defenders, possibly exhausted after repelling their transformed former friends for what may have been hours, finally sucumbing to the Red Sands poison themselves and tearing each other apart.

And now a terrible imperative overpowered the team. They must wash themselves and their clothing, ridding themselves of the dread Red Sands before they became infected. The well!

Using the well water and a canteen, the team carefully cleaned themselves as best they could, and then exited the cave as fast as possible. Once in the open air they paused only long enough to dynamite the entrance and make sure no other innocent could be exposed to this foul terror weapon.

During their escape each of the adventurers had felt themselves fighting off the infection. Fortunately for them their constitutions were of stout British origin, honed by hardship and privation and butressed by sheer British pluck.

1. Or to put it another way: The three players owning those characters couldn't make the session↑