7-inch: English Civil War by the Clash
1979 CBS Records, CBS 7082
Favorite Track: Pressure Drop
You may remember my last blog post was a little background story about Wendell Christmas. Wendell was a handyman from Buffalo, NY, had a fondness for taxidermy, was dealing with the death of his mother, and was going hunting in Vermont. I had high hopes for Wendell. I was really expecting him to start creating alien taxidermy to sell to weirdos in New York City or Arkham. However, the stars were not aligned last night and poor Wendell as well as the rest of the investigating crew met their demise.
Here’s how it happened:
In one way or another, all seven of us knew Bryant (? I’m forgetting the exact name) who was a reporter gone missing in the Strafton Mountain region nearby the small town of Jenner. Almost immediately, we got the sense that the locals did not enjoy us asking too many questions. Yes, there were fires up there occasionally. Most likely, Harney was just sacrificing goats again. The reporter was last seen at the feed store, but who really cares. With mounting curiosity, we visited his house and found an odd clue. At night, we decided to visit Harney with one of our characters dressed in a diving suit and pretending to be a pest control agent. This is where the alcohol must have started kicking in. Unfortunately for us, this is exactly when some tall centipede creatures with glistening wings came to his farm. Our shotgun fired valiantly and dangerously in its face, but the creature still managed to wound our investigator. A drunk Harney shotgunned another sitting in the getaway car. Wendell, having been left behind, stole into the farmhouse, found a letter, then spent the night crazily dashing through the woods back to our inn.
That was the end of our first session. Last night, we gathered together as it just started to rain outside. We knew we were toward the end and were excited to solve the mystery. Our wounded tried to fast talk the doctor, but with no success. Right there, we should have paid heed to the lack of quality dice rolling. A few others went back to Brattleboro and bought weapons and a lot of dynamite. Wendell asked around the other farms but found out no other information. Some others in the day time went back to visit Harney and pull a gun on him, forcing a confession. He was working for the bugs, trying to get them home although we did not really believe that. The group decided to split up: one party would join Harney for the ritual with his buggy friends; the others would build a blind and stop any danger the others might get into.
And that’s where it all went wrong. Those who joined Harney immediately fell intoxicated with the chanting of strange, nearly unutterable words. A portal was growing and the world was turning icy cold. Wendell and two others pulled out their shotguns. Wendell muttered he would be the one to do the worst: shot the lady with all the hidden dynamite and blow up everyone down there. Wendell did not want to do it, already it weighed heavy on his mind. But he knew he was witnessing something not Christian, hell not even human, and this would be the safest way. We had failed to conceal dynamite around the stone circle earlier.
But this is where my stat sheet ruined the game. Wendell was slow with a 9 Dexterity.
One character got to fire first and they decided to target the dynamite lady even though that was suppose to be Wendell’s job. He fired and blasted the poor head off of the lady. Sadly, he was not lucky enough to hit any of the dynamite. One investigator dead. This senseless killing awoke one member from their trance, but the other kept on repeating gross syllables. The other investigator in the blind ran away screaming in terror. Wendell went homicidal.
Now, I could have shot the corpse of the lady anyways and maybe we would have won. But that didn’t seem inline with what just happened to my character. I was told that I now hated the human race. So, naturally, why would I not shoot the person who shot my target? I missed, but one of the creatures snapped his neck very soon after. Two investigators dead.
Wendell walked forward as the portal grew larger than even the tallest of the creatures. Clearly, they were not going home. Wendell aimed his shotgun again at the nearest target. She was still chanting when the spread tore through her neck and chest. Three investigators dead. Another bug creature got the guy who awoke from his trance. Four investigators dead. The screaming guy regained his sanity and came back to see if anyone was still alive. Wendell was moving along the circle getting ready to shoot the next person, Harney.
But the portal was open and out came a long, long arm. It thumped the ground and all of us flew into the air. Screaming guy only went 20 feet into the air, but feel and was severely injured. Wendell went up 70. He thought of his mother. He thought maybe I can get off one more shot. Harney should die after all. Then he landed on his neck and was dead. The screaming guy died as he froze to death. All seven investigators dead.
I laughed. The dynamite plan would have worked if it ignited. Or if I or someone else had killed Harney, the chanting would have stopped although the creatures may have still party wiped us. Alas, no alien taxidermy this time.
But, I am already at working creating Wendell Christmas’s brother, Hank.