“Pulvis et umbra sumus”
(We are but dust and shadow)
Horace: Book IV, ode vii, line 16
A tabletop fantasy roleplaying game set in and adjacent to 18th Century England.
“Pulvis et umbra sumus”
(We are but dust and shadow)
Horace: Book IV, ode vii, line 16
A tabletop fantasy roleplaying game set in and adjacent to 18th Century England.
Beloved Bapu-ji,
Following the interrogation of the Whithursts, they were promptly despatched to London and the Tower, accompanied by Mustard’s sahayak Tallow for security. This left us to recover and manage the manufactory along more responsible lines — a service the Whithursts did not deserve, but to visit their punishment upon the livelihood of partners and workforce would be invidious. Nor, indeed, would it be wise to let suffer the pocket-books of coffee-house patrons with the ear of the King.
Upon reviewing the tasks to which the workforce had been assigned, we remade the acquaintance of a certain mechanick, one Simon Banner, whom we had encountered once before in the matter of Headingham Hall, when we first discovered Master Sandiman’s meddling with engines… from Whithurst and Boulton.
We had treated fairly with Banner, whose part in those events was that of an employee, and recalling it he favoured us with his intelligence. For the main part this encompassed rumours of a project, akin to that of Headingham Hall but larger, and concealed at another site. This, it appeared, was Project 113, though it went by other names we had discovered — without detail — in numerous forms: the King Machine, Project Red, and sundry abbreviations of Red King.
In addition, he revealed to us the location of the Whithurst’s hidden records, the existence of which we had surmised from omissions, but which we had not yet discovered. A heavy bench, when moved aside, revealed a trapdoor below.
For Banners’ own sake, though it pained us to do so, we thrust him forth bodily as if he had defied us.
Descending the stairs below the trapdoor, our freshly-wound wards were tripped almost immediately. From high on the wall, a bright light with flickers of purple around the edges flooded the cellar until, upon our dispelling it, a tablet fell broken to the floor. Records in red folders revealed that Project 113 was to be found at Lowes Farm, Swarkestone — a place at no great distance, but secluded in the English countryside.
Hastening there, we found no ordinary farmhouse, but something resembling a ziggurat built by the side of one of the mounds in which the ancient English buried their fathers, and merging with it. Despite pursuit by inexplicably murderous farmworkers, we gained entry from a higher level to passageways that led us down, encountering in the original farmhouse beneath a cook who thought the date four years previous to its actual.
Given what we had learned at the manufactory, we were unsurprised to discover an array of gate engines, through which the engineers immediately fled. Not wishing to permit their escape, we cast aside reservations of the wisdom of the act, and pursued them.
At the other side of the gate, amongst a thin mist, was an even greater array, yet we had little chance to observe it. One of the engineers ran ahead of us down a passage. Most fortunately, we caught him as he emerged from the end and dragged him back. Not before we saw the place to which he had run.
It was a Loka we had not seen before. A misty glow suffused all, and stepped pyramids — ziggurats — reared toward a sky in which arose a black moon. Atop the pyramids, colossi stood tall against that oppressive firmament, seething — we knew it, though we knew not how — in the frustration of aeons. Throughout the plain marched brazen Turkish janissaries with glowing red eyes; and we only narrowly escaped the nearest. Other encampments of Turks — whether brass or flesh and blood — pocked this realm of the Anunnaki.
Dragging the engineer back in to the place of the gate array, his eyes glowed red also; and compelling the demon within him we questioned it. It referred contemptuously to the body it inhabited as “the vessel” and told us we could refer to it as “Red” — of a certainty, not its true name, but perhaps… it might itself be The Red King! It was concerned only with its own desires, of which the chiefest was freedom — to do what it willed. It told us little but that its “vessel” was known as Natter, and the other as Cuthbertson. It evinced no real knowledge of Whithurst or his machines, though it sought to reason from what our questions revealed as to what his role was and how it might use the machines that it termed an interesting advance. And it compared itself with The Others — the Anunnaki.
Seeking to tempt Colonel Mustard, it offered him first a city and then an empire if he would do the demon a favour. When Mustard denied such ambitions, it revealed its true nature by threatening to kill Natter — at which the Colonel commanded it to tell its name and it was destroyed or banished by the attempt to obey.
Natter, freed of the demon, was in poor state and confused but was revived by the administration of Dr Daffy’s Elixir Salutis. Though saying little at first, it appeared he had been instructed by Daniel Whithurst to build a great array that might test the boundaries of the world, and allow them to access the Land of Milk and Honey — much the same delusion that had driven Ashton and Mainborough to the madness of the first gate in the lands of the Turk, from which so much trouble has stemmed.
Cuthbertson was likewise freed of his demon, which referred to him as a “puppet” that it had been instructed to control in the service of the Red King. It had also been instructed by Daniel Whithurst to manage the gate array. Mustard commanded the demon to return Cuthbertson his memories and leave.
Between the two freed engineers we learned something of the gate arrays’ usage. The gate beneath the farmhouse-ziggurat was powerful enough to reach this far-distant Loka, while the even larger array here could be used — with adjustment — to reach multiple other Loka. Of these, a place of marching Turks, a green place, an icy place, and the Land of Dust were mentioned. Who can know whether others might be accessed; the adjustability of the controls suggested it might be so.
Such gates could not be left where anyone — most especially the Red King — might use them. The engineers advised decoupling the winder, to ensure that the gates would wind down, and to set charges to blow whilst the gates remained open, that “the Catastrophe Chain might reach everything”.
With this advice, we returned to Lowes Farm, freed the residents from the influence that had stolen recent years from them, then with explosives from Mustard’s regiment we set the plan in action. As best we might tell, it succeeded and the gates were destroyed.
The engineers also confirmed what we already thought we knew — that Daniel Whithurst had arranged maintenance of the Mainborough gate (through which the Turk had entered other Loka), extending its usage beyond its expected life. Daniel Whithurst, whether by malice or ignorance, has betrayed the land of his ancestors.
Namaste,
Your dutiful Nripendra
Beloved Bapu-ji,
Most unexpectedly we have been to the French capital of Paree, and are likely imminently to return there. If I should not return, I wish you to know what has become of me.
When we first returned from Birmingham and Derby, Colonel Mustard had some army business to attend to with new recruits: poor souls willing to forgo reincarnation in favour of a very prolonged and — in some regards only — enhanced life in Bhuloka. The process is horrific physically and spiritually, and I chose not to be present when they surrendered all hope of Nirvana, or even the Abrahamist heaven, to become marionettes of clay.
It was while we awaited the Colonel’s pleasure that we first heard of trouble in Paree.
Since we encountered the Red King in his Loka, it seems that the walls between Paree and another Loka have thinned to the extent that there are nightly incursions of the dead into the cellars and streets of the capital. There was some suggestion of a tide; whether metaphoric or literal remained unclear — the appearances were linked with low, damp places like cellars and wells. The date when the incursions started did not tally with our destruction of the engines used to reach the Red King’s Loka, so the exact cause is similarly unclear; they started before the engines were destroyed.
As before when such things have been encountered, some claimed that their vacant eye sockets glowed red or green, and it was noted that as well as attacking the living, the dead fought between themselves.
Having introduced ourselves to the authorities — such as remained — we were directed to a market place courtyard, surrounded by mean residences and alleyways. Most pertinently, however, it had a single entrance archway that might perhaps be defended against the egress of the phantoms.
In that archway we established our engine in such a way that the Area of the passageway would be Warded against the fiends, while the broader avenue outside was covered by a troop of French musketeers in case we fell before them. (We had little apprehension of such an outcome, but the French were of course unfamiliar with our ability.)
A volunteer was instructed by Colonel de Tournier of the 13th Foot to accompany, guide and observe us: Sous-Lieutenant Jean Tiens-Laplace. Being a little short of hands, we were careful to instruct Tiens-Laplace to initiate the work of the protective engine by striking the appropriate lever.
With midnight, the first of a multitude of skeletal apparitions appeared and of an instant Tiens-Laplace was so unmanned that he fled precipitately, without so much as striking the lever first. Attendant upon his departure, a volley of musket fire was heard from the avenue.
This left us in a position of some embarrassment, for trusting the Frenchman with the simplest of tasks we had all advanced to engage and drive back the fiends that we might pursue them to their lair — in consequence, leaving the arch unguarded by man or machine.
Fortunately, the English men accompanying me did not between them have the “fortitude” of a single Frenchman, but trusted in my ability to save them. While they held back the numerous hordes, I fought my way back to the engine and began its machinations. With a safe refuge established, and the dead commencing to fight each other, we retreated to observe for what remained of the night.
The tide ebbed and flowed, but it seemed a constant once they encountered each other that they fought among themselves — a fact that made our own withdrawal a simpler affair, as they abandoned us for their privy combats.
In time, a chastened Sous-Lieutenant crawled to join us, his tunic more perforated — by some generous fortune — than his torso.
When morning dawned, the dead returned to their holes, and as swiftly as we followed we saw little of where they went — as the last departed into the dark, the very shadows pursued him so that all that was left was a cellar of four walls.
By the light of day we were delivered in more ways than one, for it had emerged in darkness that the defence most effective against the creatures of night was a portable engine of daylight, some few of which had of late been purchased in Birmingham.
We returned to London, to revisit Paree better equipped anon.
Namaste,
Your dutiful Nripendra
For the attention of:
His Grace the Duke of Brunswick
Swarkestone, Derbyshire
April 1769
My Lord Duke,
I am writing to make further Report to Your Grace upon my Activities in Derbyshire.
Having dispatched Mr. Whithurst and Nephew under Guard to the Tower, we fell to a detailed Examination of their Abode. In a hidden Cellar guarded by crude but dangerous Enochian Sigils we found their secret Archive. Our Perusal of the Documents found there was necessarily brief, but our Eyes were caught by a Reference to a “Red King” and to the very substantial Sums of Money secretly directed to an Endeavour associated with that Name. Further Researches brought forth the name of Swarkestone, a Village in the South of Derbyshire.
In Swarkestone we found a very substantial new Residence, largely complete but still under Construction, guarded by a Workforce of the sort with which we are well acquainted: namely ordinary Folks, robbed of their natural Wits and possessed by Spirits. When I announced I was about the King’s Business they barred the Doors and assaulted us, but we were able to suppress or evade them to gain Entry.
This new Edifice, it transpired, was built around an older Farmhouse, entirely encasing it. There we discovered the original Inhabitants of Lowe Farm, an elderly Couple and their Servants, oblivious to their Change in Circumstance and the Passage of Years due to the Sorceries Practised upon them. Freed from Mental Enthralment, we found them naturally Bewildered at the Loss of some Five Years of their Lives. In my Humble Opinion this Cruel Practice upon innocent Subjects of His Majesty would alone merit the most severe Punishment under Law against its Perpetrators.
In the Basement we discovered a room with a large Enochian Gate, powered by many Engines. Two Men working there immediately attacked us. We overcame and secured the First, but the Second fled through the Gate. We pursued and found Ourselves in a Huge Chamber, full of Enochian Engines and Gates, one of which was currently in operation. We apprehended our Quarry just beyond this Gate, which opened onto a tunnel that in turn opened onto a vista of sand with Aegyptian style Pyramids in the Distance. There were Companies of Skeletal Soldiers marching in Formation each with a Green Glint in its Eyes.
We did not tarry but as I activated the Gate to return us to the “Engine Room” I was contacted by an Entity. I was Warded but Possession did not seem its Intent. Instead it sought to persuade me to its Purpose. Needless to say I was firm against its Blandishments. However, from its Converse I gleaned the Following: this was the “Red King”; it was one of the Anonaki; it found the Tedium of its Exile unbearable and sought to return to the World; it despised the other Anonaki but all of them sought the Same; Daniel Whithurst had agreed to free it in return for Power and Riches; he did not entirely trust to Whithurst’s Moral Fibre and sought Alternative Instruments; it did not understand Whithurst’s Methods but surmised the involvement Mechanical Engines.
We exorcised our two Captives of their Occupying Spirits. Natter and Cuthbertson were Field Engineers for Whithurst and Boulton. It is Interesting (and much to our Advantage) that unlike most previous Victims of Possession that we have encountered, these Fellows retain recall of Events and Deeds during their Possession. We can speculate that their own Knowledge and Higher Mental Functions were required and could not be suppressed without rendering them useless. The Two were most keen to co-operate and willing to turn King’s Evidence against their former Employers. They informed us that the “Engine Room” led to many Worlds, some of which had been explored. They named Daniel Whithurst as the main Motivator behind the Swarkestone Endeavour but did not demur when I suggested that the expertise of Whithurst Senior must also be required to have designed and configured such an array of Enochian Engines and Gates.
After evaluating the Situation with my Advisors, I took the View that the “Engine Room” was too dangerous to be left in Operating Order. I laid Charges there, set the fuse and retreated to the “Gate Room”. Rao, assisted by Natter and Cuthbertson closed the Gate behind me. Our Calculation is that the Explosion, in combination with the resultant Enochian Disruptions, will make the Entire Assemblage inoperable and most likely destroy it entirely. The Devices in the Gate Room we will dismantle and remove for Study.
It is my Recommendation that the Whithursts to be held in the Tower pending trial. The ill done to the occupants of Lowe Farm (and to Natter and Cuthbertson) is quite sufficient to hold them for now. I enclose affadavits to support the Charges. However, a Charge of Treason does not seem excessive, for they have plainly colluded with a Foreign Power (the Red King) to the Endangerment of the Realm and the Overthrow of King George III. God Save the King.
I remain,
Your Grace’s most Obedient Servant,
Edward Mustard, Brigadier.