Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's Journal
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Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPrologue:
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Nov. 17, 1930 - New York City I open a new journal. I haven't decided if I will actually publish the Amazon volume. I should, but I am having a hard time straightening out my notes. And some of the events – especially the evening of the Betrayal – still elicit the strong emotions I felt when they occurred. Unlike the previous two, I embark upon this journal unsure of its subject. Instead of the prospect of some trip to some exotic land to uncover an ancient mystery, I write about how my hunt last month was a success – I bagged a deer and a moose(!) this time, and Richard showed me how to make a splendid moose jerky(!!). But even the challenge of the hunt can't replace the fulfillment, the purpose a proper expedition into the unknown gave me. I feel I am wasting my time here! Maybe – as we've managed to persuade Uncle Horace to end his ACTIVE career in trouble-making – maybe he has a project? If not, then I need to start looking around. I fear the Amazon has marked me in another way... Nov. 18, 1930 – NYC No sooner than I invoke the devil, an angel appears. Received a letter from Jimmy Mbele today! He has made it back home in Natal and to a concerned and loving family – a distant cry from my return, but I don't – can't begrudge him that. Without his courage, skill and guidance, our presumed deaths would have been made real. He invites me to look him up if I ever get to South Africa. I should like that very much. But Uncle H. has gone off on a buying spree again; It could mean something big. I hope so! ~~~* I actually sat down, armed with Jimmy's correspondence, and tackled collating the notes. I think I have the middle of the ordeal pretty-well sorted out and I know what gaps will need to be filled in with which memories. While I was reviewing them, I came upon this: “When each moment could be your last, you must give each moment purpose and meaning!” Now, I sit here and each moment seems to last forever, holding no purpose or meaning for me. I try to fill them with make-work, but it isn't enough. Nov. 24, 1930 - NYC Been around the University, trying to see if anyone has any openings for fieldwork. The prospects are dismal. Insulated as I am in Uncle's beserk cocoon, I have not appreciated how badly the Crash has upset the economy. Funds are being conserved for the rainy days that are now upon us. And even if there is an expedition, so many young academics have been thrown out of work that each opening is inundated with applications from men wildly over-qualified for the position. And, thanks to our close escape, the one place where I am unarguably among the best-qualified to work in has no one lined up to go. I will need to go further afield if I am to go out into the field! Well, there is Thanksgiving coming up! It will good to see the “family” again!I wonder what surprise Uncle is preparing – or what mischief Basil will get into? ~~~ Rereading today's entry. The quotes around “family” don't belong. Especially now that my birth family has died, I have grown up with these people; I have just not had the insight to understand that they have been a part of my family all this time. I should learn to take from their strength – and give to them mine – when times call for it. I hope Basil leaves the turkey alone this year. Last edited by Legauche on Tue Sep 28, 2021 1:18 am, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Gaming and More Gaming! - HEX - "Full Circle"Part 1:
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Thanksgiving, NYC Terrible day. It started innocently enough as we were driven from the house, per tradition. I took in the parade, then met with the other cousins – Doc Lucy, Kleio, Thea and Lucky – at Mick's. While we were eating, I noticed an otherwise nondescript couple that seemed to be keeping an eye on us. I think they noticed that I noticed, though; they left after an hour, and I decided not to follow. I will always wonder if I made the right decision. When Mick closed the joint, he joined us in the Ghost for the trip back home. When we got there, though, there were ominous signs that something was wrong. When we entered, we discovered that The Bluefin, the First Ghost and the Giant Cage were gone and The Wolf's Den was plundered (NB: see if Uncle can figure what, if anything, is missing). But more importantly, Uncle Horace was unconscious from a shot that creased his skull, Basil missing, and three of Uncle's beloved staff – Mr. Mullins, Alexia and Glenda – were all murdered, shot in the back! The sheer, unnecessary violence of it offended me deeply. A dark, smoldering rage rose as we discovered each body. Doc Lucy was able to stabilize Uncle. The others were beyond any help. Mick called the police and ambulance while we had gone through the house to arm ourselves and find our fallen and discern the damage Breckenridge, the valet and the last one who'd been hired to join the staff, was missing and we lit on him as a prime suspect. I thought that he was working in concert with one (or more) of Uncle's old enemies. My first guess was the Masseria crime family, so I suggested we check out their rivals, the Marrazanos (I thought we could get them to help check out leads in the Underworld). When we arrived at the Bluefin Packing Company, and peered in, I was shocked to find that they had the Bluefin from our front room! A grim mood descended on me, spurred by the grizzly images at home. I went to their parked cars and – behold! I found two Thompson submachine guns, each with a drum of ammunition. I took only one of the weapons but both of the drums. Thea and Kleio had joined me at the front of the building, and I kicked in the door. My entrance took the six Marrazona goons by surprise, I shudder in horror as I recall what happened next. I demanded to know where they had gotten the stuffed tuna. They said they had been given it. I did not believe them, so I opened fire. Full automatic. Not over their heads – my fury at their apparent callous disregard of the heartless murders they'd perpetrated led me to try to murder them in turn. As it was, I wounded them all, and they scattered for cover. I hesitated after that. While Thea looked a little shell-shocked and Kleio kept quiet, Lucky came in and, fortunately, took over the negotiations. With a little money, some turkey sandwiches and my murderous presence, Lucky confirmed that, indeed, someone had come by and left the tuna behind – someone who was driving the same kind of car as were and whose description sounded very much like Breckenridge. They permitted us to leave with the tuna – but we had to carry it. No one else seemed included to help, so I had an awkward moment trying to cover the mobsters with a tommy gun while trying to drag the tuna off the table onto a dolly. We finally wrestled it into the car. The mobsters also obliged us with the last direction they saw Breckenridge take. We took the road and before long, we noticed the stolen Ghost parked outside of a building. A building associated with the Masserias. Lucky went to sneak up to the car and drive off with it, with no one else the wiser, but he met up with one of the Masseria enforcers guarding the car. It turned out to be the boyfriend of the actress that had a fatal accident that involved Lucky. Fortunately, though, it seemed that Joe The Boss was expecting us, so the enforcer, despite his preferences, invited us in for a talk. The example of our previous stop had banked my fury quite a bit, so no more ammunition was expended. We explained our situation (again, Lucky took the lead) and Joe The Boss showed sympathy and, as a gesture of goodwill, returned the car and offered to “take care” of the situation by calling in his enforcer and sending him out to do so. The enforcer, interestingly enough also known as “Lucky”, invoked one of the codes of his world and told us where we might find our quarry – Dock 37 at the seaport – and offered us a 20-minute head start so that we could... discuss... our issues with him. Swiftly we sped to the harbor. At the aforementioned dock, we saw the steamer Cantina getting ready for departure. I exited the car with the Thompson and, despite my small stature, was an intimidating enough figure to cow the ship's crew into giving up that not only was Breckenridge onboard, but that Basil had been loaded, trapped in the giant cage. I had cooled down enough that, instead of riddling him with the rest of the drum, I satisfied myself with a swift kick to his marbles while we summoned the police to bring him in. With the villain in jail and Basil and most of the missing items recovered, we hurried to the hospital to check on Uncle's condition. We were relieved to see that he had recovered consciousness and seemed none the worse for wear. Once we recounted the events of the night, however, relief turned to concern as Uncle left his hospital bed and had us take him to the police station that was holding Breckenridge. The “Nutter Effect” held true; Uncle Horace talked to the police and was allowed to speak to the Benedict Arnold. When Uncle H. came out of the interrogation room, Breckenridge was off on a ramble through his childhood and Uncle had us return him to home. Once there, with the wreckage of our happy life about us, Uncle gave us grave news: we were facing Dr. Milton, a power-hungry would-be world conqueror whom Uncle had opposed a number of times in the past. Indeed, all of us cousins were the children of former associates and aides to Uncle Horace in some of his adventures against Milton. Uncle had sworn to them he would protect us from his foe's revenge. However, it seems that, as Uncle had learned from his talk to Breckenridge at the station, that Dr. Milton had struck to end his nemesis once and for all. Uncle was sure that this had been the result of a long game – he believes that the arch-fiend had a hand in the deaths of our parents. The doctor has enticed Breckenridge with “his heart's desire” to turn on us and produce the carnage we had come home to. (NOTE TO SELF: Where was the Cantina heading to?) An old foe, with designs upon the world, has come back on the scene. Uncle feels the call to return to action, but he's no longer young, and all of his former allies have been taken from him. It pains him to break his promise to our parents, but he has nowhere else to turn. So... Honestly, I almost feel insulted that he thought that he had to ask if we'd help. Especially ME! Who is probably the closest thing to him in the house! Let me pack my things and LET'S GO! One thing concerns me, however – and that is me. I descended into Darkness when I pulled the trigger of that Thompson. I immediately managed to climb out of it, but Breckenridge is now an example of the consequences of standing there for too long. And for the lengths to which our enemy will go to achieve his goals. Last edited by Legauche on Sun Feb 21, 2021 11:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Gaming and More Gaming! - HEX - "Full Circle"Part 2:
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 December, 1930 , the Mid-Atlantic After weeks of preparation, we all boarded the tramp steamer Lauderfeld, captained by one Marta Berger. She was one of the children rescued by Uncle Horace and company during the Seven Nights of the Bloedkoet and maintained her friendship with Uncle over the years. We were bound for The Congo River, site of The War of the Ages adventure. Uncle Horace's researches indicated that this had been Breckenridge's goal when he tried to leave the country with Basil. We were well on our way – indeed, ahead of schedule – when on the horizon, we saw a brilliant spear of light shoot up from the horizon into the sky. It flashed for about half-a-minute to a full minute – it was so sudden that timing it was impossible – then subsided. Following the eternal law of those who sail the seas, we turned to investigate and, if need be, offer assistance. When we arrived, we saw that there were two ships entangled together at boarding distance. One was a merchant ship much like ours (the Das Mausert, flying a German flag), the other, an Italian cruiser – Il Torente. On closer view, it seemed that the cruiser had bumped (but not rammed).Neither ships had lights, nor was there any activity. The cruiser's main batteries were not fired, but its secondary guns were readied. They were saying nothing over the radio. It was ripe for investigation, but Captain Berger was understandably reluctant to bring her ship any closer. So, while she had her crew on alert, The Nutters volunteered to go and check it out. We got our equipment and the captain provided us a boat and rowers and over we went. Deciding that boarding the merchant ship would be safest and easiest. We got onboard via the boarding stairs of the port side with no fuss, no fighting. We immediately headed for the bridge and looking out to the bow of the ship, we saw one explanation why: there were two groups of men slumped motionless on deck. One group had been seated together in middle of a ring of armed Italian sailors. The others investigated while I tried to radio back to the Lauderfeld, but my efforts were stymied by a dead radio. Turned out, there was no power on this ship at all. I then checked the nautical charts to see if there were any clues. I saw that the captain had been charting two zig-zag courses from the Mediterranean to our present position. The cruiser and the merchanter had been playing a nautical cat-and-mouse game down the Atlantic. While I was discovering this, the others were very busy. Doc examined the men and determined they were, indeed, dead. But there were no marks upon them; the weapons had not been fired. None of the bodies betrayed any reaction that would indicate that the deceased saw what was coming. Lucky made the biggest discoveries: the Il Torente's captain's log and a living Italian officer. An army officer, true. Who glowed. Who tried to detain Lucky. Lucky decided that discretion was the better part of valor and escaped from the cruiser. As he was doing so, though, the Italian glowed, then Lucky glowed. But Lucky's glow broke quickly; the Italian's faded. I had brought the Thompson (plus my hussar – you have to have a saber for a proper boarding duel!), so I unslung it and fired a burst at the Italian. The bullets dissolved as they struck the outer edge of his nimbus. Thea and Kleio weighed in, as well. The Italian flashed gold again; this time we all felt a buzzing feeling inside us, then felt a little tired. My cousins chipped away some more and the Italian generated another sunburst; it didn't seem as strong this time – perhaps he was tiring? Anyway, I swung down from the bridge on a support cable from the foremast to barrel into the Italian and that put him down. Doc topped it off with some sedatives. The fight over, we continued our searches – Thea, Lucky and Kleio returned to the cruiser, Doc oversaw the Italian's continued sedation and I detoured through the hold of the Das Mansert for clues we hadn't had time to find. I hit a jackpot in a formerly-hidden hatch deep in the hold. There were books and notebooks and some kind space for a device to be hooked-up to. I gathered up the notebooks – the books seemed to be German texts; I figured the notebooks would be likely to carry the actual project that used the information from those books. The cruiser detachment eventually came upon the entire cruiser crew, dead. When they got to the main boiler room, they came across much more substantial evidence – and the answer to the mystery! There, they found Professor Kruger – who had been the author of the journals I had gathered. With him was the item that had been once been linked-up in the hidden space on Das Mansert. It had been the center of a violent explosion that had thrown the Professor to the side – and done a whole lot more to him beside. The story they assembled was remarkable – and I must confess that I may not be doing it justice. I wasn't there to hear it first hand, and..., well, there are reasons why I chose archaeology as my field of scientific study. Professor Kruger was on the Das Mansert when the Army Captain went on board the Il Torente and the cruiser started off in pursuit. The two ships then played tag as shown on the charts. The cruiser finally caught up to the merchanter and, in searching it, found Prof. Kruger and his equipment. They brought them over to the cruiser and set it up. The Army Captain was interrogating the Professor and had the device turned on. Here, I confess that my powers of understanding fail me. I don't understand what the machine was supposed to do and I don't understand what it actually did. But in any event, in the explosion, a being came through into the boiler room with its essence divided. Those halves settled into the nearest corporeal vessels: the intellect (to over-simplify) rested in the Professor; the captain gained its power. That power being the ability to drain energy. Not just the energy from power sources, but the very energy of life itself. This blast is what rendered the crews and ships lifeless! (Again – this is what I understand of the issue...). The current division of the being could not stand, but it seems that the process of unification would result in an energy-drain that would affect everything within a 10-mile radius. Up, down, all around. It seemed to me that letting it happen here would be safe enough, but there was a complication. Turns out that the setting for Uncle Horace's Frogmen of a Thousand Fathoms was only 30 miles north of our position. Uncle Horace feared that there could be merfolk living close enough. So, we set off to find the Merfolk Realm. During our search, we met up with the daughter of the Mermaid Queen he rescued! I will now pause to observe that I have always had implicit faith in the truth of the stories that Uncle Horace has told me. I am just saying... Anyways, in talking to her and others of her kin, it turns out there were outlying settlements that were within the danger zone. They knew of a rocky island near enough to be convenient, far enough to keep everyone safe. We got the Professor-half in the bow of the Lauderfeld and Doc kept the Italian-half in the stern and we steamed off for the rocky isle. But the Italian kept coming out of sedation sooner and sooner; if he awoke and moved closer to his other half, we would suffer the same fate as the crews of the Das Marsert and Il Torente! We reached the island and made two trips in the rowboat in just enough time to deposit our volatile passengers. We got the ship far enough away so that the spear of light that ensued at the (presumed) reunion of the two halves could not harm us. I left Professor Kruger's notes with Uncle. I have no mind for that sort of thing. Last edited by Legauche on Tue Sep 28, 2021 12:49 am, edited 1 time in total.
Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalHeya Patrick, I figured I'd just put you in a whole thread to yourself
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Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalAs Mark's sounding board on this, i am really excited to see the player perspective.
I don't mind growing old... but I hate growing up.
Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's Journal - InterludeChristmas, 1930,
We cross the Equator at the Prime Meridian! Time to call The Court of King Neptune! Of course, with a King Neptune as benevolent as Uncle Horace, the initiation was a party, not a hazing. Even more, now my cousins outrank me! Capt. Berger made sure that we crossed at the Prime Meridian, so they could be accorded the exalted status of Emerald Shellback (I, having crossed at no special point, am just a plain, old Shellback). Once my cousins had been given their improved station, we had a merry Christmas celebration, and the ship's cook proved up to the task for providing a shipboard feast that would garner Uncle Horace's approval. As I write these words, though, I have been thinking hard about us – about The Nutters. We have grown up with each other, but the circumstances of our separate lives have brought each of us together in a variety of configurations for a variety of durations. We have not worked together for a task this extensive and consequential. I know that Lucky enjoys acting and explosions – not necessarily in that order! - and while he is a capable fighter, he likes to avoid solving issues with violence. Thea has had true military experience, but it left its mark on her. My own experience in survival and combat came from happenstance – and may have scarred me far deeper than I appreciate right now. Doc and Kleio have had to struggle through men's worlds longer and at more rarefied levels than I and have achieved great status within them. Doc's skill and Kleio's knowledge will no doubt be crucial to our success. At the end of the Amazonian fiasco, Jimmy and I were in command of the group once Prof. Pollard went down with his mysterious jungle fever – and even after he recovered. Frankly, there was a clear sense of who was up to the job and who was not. That clarity does not exist here. So, I have to learn where the lines of competence lie among us – my own most importantly! Boxing Day, 1930 I get a quiet little talk with Uncle Horace. I want to be sure that we know what the score is before we go in. If we don't know, we can't be prepared for it! "I got enough of that from Prof. Pollard. I'm not tolerating it from you!" Uncle: As regards what? what to expect on the trip? What Dr. Milton is up to? Me: I'll settle for our immediate destination - but yeah - we could do with more details on what Dr. Milton is capable of. After all, if he tends to hand out poisoned lollipops, we should know that we shouldn't be taking lollipops that are proffered to us. (I am all about preparation!) Unc: "Expect the unexpected." Me: “That's what I'm trying to prepare for!” <grin> I mean, in college, I stopped preparing so much, because I had to work so hard to get good grades and I never received the encouragement that Daddy – and you – gave me. It was the Amazon that brought me back to my ambition! I have been honing myself – I want to do something big! Important! “ Unc: "I wish I could tell you more, be more specific Maddie, I wish I could. But Dr. Milton is capable of anything, would brave any danger to see his vision come to light. There is no atrocity he would not commit." Me "...as we've seen..." Unc: "and if his opening gambit was to kidnap Basil, whatever he's got planned, it has to be big." Me <sigh> “I understand, Uncle. But if you think there's a time you can give us a little warning, don't hesitate!"<wry grin> Unc: "well, where we're going, I've been there. Heh, you've heard some of the stories. I souldn't be surprised to see some old familiar faces, and you to hear some old familiar names." Me: <Dreamily> "Yes. LOVE those stories." <Pauses> "Can you tell me which ones Daddy was in? I know he couldn't help so much after the War. But I've seen a couple of pictures of him with you in some exotic places. I just couldn't figure out the ACTUAL places." Unc: <laughs jovially> “It still warms my heart to hear you still believe I know everything. But the truth is, I have forgotten a great deal. Rest assured, your father, and your mother have been with me throughout the years. And they're still here points at his heart” Me: <shrugs>"You definitely know more than me. And, I know how much you cared for them - because you've been there both times I came home to find out that they'd died." Unc: sniffle <blows nose> Me: "Daddy - and Mom - they'll always be with me, as well. I just hope I can keep doing the kinds of things they'd be proud to look down on and see." Unc: “You will, and they are my darling, they are.” Me <awkward silence>"Which brings me to apologizing for my behavior at the Bluefin Packing Company. I let my anger at what happened to Mr. Mullins and the rest take over." "Seeing what Dr. Milton is willing to do, I can't let that turn me off course - or worse, steer me onto a course like his." Last edited by Legauche on Tue Mar 09, 2021 9:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 3
January, 1931, Congo River Delta We are at the mouth of the great Congo River! We will be going up to the head of navigation, the port city of Matadi. From there, we will take a train to the new capital of Leopoldville. Capt. Berger will stay a day, taking on cargo for her next trip – and be available if we need her. With our luggage put ashore, Uncle (looking less spry than usual!) went with Kleio and Thea to engage our porters. Doc, Lucky and I remained behind to guard the baggage. I notice a young street girl observing us; I decide to keep an eye on her, but she noticed me and, when some heavy foot-traffic makes me lose sight of her – she vanishes! I go to where she had stood to see if I can see where she went to, but it's impossible. While that happened, a group of young toughs come up, offering to... carry our packages. Lucky showed he is a deft hand at peaceful resolutions of tense situations. A circuitous conversation and the discrete passing of money encouraged their moving on. In the meantime, Unc led the others to the Botha Porter Co. On the way, Kleio and Thea manage to get Unc to make one concession and get a cane to help him walk. Kleio also got her sooth said, which paid dividends later. The proprietor of the porter company, Akeem Botha, warmly greets Unc – they're old friends (of course!) - and told us that the train wasn't due to leave for another 4/5 days, so he recommended a reliable hotel. In the meantime, the urchin girl who had intrigued me was spotted by Thea. When she tried to confront the girl, the girl repeated her disappearing act. Unc's party returns to the docks with the porters and we head off to the hotel. Once there, we find out we're missing a couple of important things: a red book and a map case. We search the packages, even go back to the ship (though we remembered seeing the case, at least, when we got off the ship. Still...). No book or case. Meanwhile, third time is a charm for the little girl; she shakes us down to guide us to someone who might help. Kleio, though, impresses her with her knowledge of a secret deal-making sign. The girl takes us to a ramshackle hut filled with goods from all over the world. It is Yusuf's – the proprietor having been the child that drew Unc & Co. into the Wrath of the Sun God's Eye. Yusuf is a long way from Cairo! And he seems to have become... “knowledgeable” in the underground economy. He didn't know about who lifted the book and case, but there was a bigger fence named Adabayo, who would be more likely to know about our missing items. To help us, Yusuf had the gamine who had been watching us – Rusee – continue to accompany us as a guide. I could not help but notice her lack of enthusiasm at the idea. Given that she was afraid of Adabayo, said lack was understandable. And, given Adabayo's reputation: he had the morals of a sadistic tomcat, the fear was easily explained. As we closed in on Adabayo's shop, we noted that it was surrounded by a number of other shops, staffed by very burly shopkeepers who were keeping an eye on Adabayo's – and, consequently, us, as we neared it. We enter the shop, crowded by gewgaws and knickknacks and presided over by a vacantly-smiling old man. When we asked for Adabayo, without hesitation, he guided us up a set of stairs and to a door at its top. He leaves, we knock, we are invited to come in. We come into a main room filled with items a few cuts above the items on sale the floor below. Lounging about is Adabayo and six women, most of whom are lazily smoking opium out of a hookah. He starts out “So wonderful! White people coming in to buy” from him. He offered the ladies to Lucky and the Professor. Offered to buy us from the Professor (Lucky might have been tempted...). When we made our displeasure known at that bargain, Adabayo flipped the deal and offered to buy the Professor and Lucky from us (we might have been tempted to part with Lucky...). We countered by asking about the book and map case. Adabayo claimed not to know anything about it, but if we came back tomorrow, he would tell us what he found. While all of this was transpiring, the lone non-opiate-doped woman had sidled up to Lucky and left a note in his pocket (or was he happy to see her?). Upon reading the note after we left, it said “He is lying – he's got a buyer tonight at the Boat Bridge”. All she wanted was for us to free her and the other girls when we were done. We decided that we would intercept the deal, then effect the rescue. But first, we had to make a decision, one we all dreaded to make. Uncle Horace was not the spry adventurer of the tales we'd grown up on. We had to convince him – firmly but gently (I hope) – that it was our time to do the work. We would have him stay at the hotel while we dealt with the meeting at the Boat Bridge. I think he was hurt – even though he could see the logic, confrontations with mortality are rarely welcome. The Congo is a wide and powerful river at its mouth, so it cannot be bridged by normal means. The locals have developed a system of small ferries that ply a route just below the falls that block navigation upstream. Abodayo had four boatmen in his service; three of them were at our side of the river. We thought that the fourth was on the other side, waiting for the customer. So, we decided to wait until we see Odabayo come to the Boat Bridge and we would follow out on our own boats and intercept the deal. I had thought about other options, but the size of the channel and the fatal nature of trying to swim the river at that point closed off anything I could come up with. Finally, hours later, we saw a finely-dressed American come up to one of Adabayo's boatmen. Ah! Adabayo was coming from the OTHER direction! Well we got in our boats and headed out to the rendez-vous. Lucky opened proceedings with a squib dynamite into Adabayo's boat to distract and confuse him and his henchmen. Mayhem ensued. We gathered in the book and the map case. I shot the American, while the others got to wrestle with Adabayo and he goons. The villains started chanting something that did NOT sound like French or Swahili! As she was fighting one, Kleio suddenly said “Horus” and her next punch laid Adabayo out into the water – even though it was, frankly, nowhere effective enough to have caused such a reaction! Soon after, all of our foes are over the side, drowned in the mighty Congo, all of them chanting the same thing as they go into the water, and even as they sink. Kleio told us they were chanting, “All glory to Seth!” (Seth being an evil god of the ancient Egyptians – shades of the Wrath of the Sun God's Eye!) ' Kleio also detailed to me the sooth she got earlier in the day: “The way seems clear, but each step leads you back Have a care, for rushing may lead to lost time Just like the hourglass, you eventually run out of sand. But, be heartened; I see you in the favor of the gods!” With the book and the case in our possession we headed back to the hotel to drop them off. Unfortunately, when we got there, the first thing we noticed was that NO-ONE was in the hotel. At all. We had a bad feeling about this. Reaching our rooms, our bad feelings turned out to be justified. Uncle Horace (and ONLY Uncle Horace) was missing! At first, we thought that Basil might have some bloodhound-like ability to find Unc. Alas, we were quickly disabused of the notion. So we headed to Adabayo's, thinking it was more than likely that we'd be solving two problems with one destination. Remembering that the place was surrounded by burly observers, Lucky separated from us with an overwhelming supply of explosives to rig the surrounding shops. However, as he was doing so, and we moved in, we noticed that the streets full of observers were empty instead. The old man who had greeted us? Gone, too. The captive harem girls.... We were late for 5 of them. From what Kleio could see, they'd been sacrificed to Seth for power. Missing from the sacrifice, though, was the woman who slipped Lucky the note! Missing also (still) were Uncle, the book and the maps. Oh! Hadn't we rescued them from Adabayo? Well, no, as it turns out. We never did check out our items until well after – and the book wasn't THE Red Book, and the map case had just random papers in it. We'd been had! And by that minx who passed the note! Further confirmation as to her guilt arose when we investigated the other rooms of Adabayo's. The boss-man's room was spartan, hardly anything in it. Another room, a woman's room, was opulent, filled with items bearing Seth's symbols. And a photograph that included Uncle Horace. Which was pieced by an ornate dagger right in Uncle's face. This confirmed a steadily-developing idea that this was all linked to Uncle's participation in the Adventure of the Wrath of the Sun God's Eye. Hmmm. A clue, perhaps? So, dollars for doughnuts that the fate of the book, map case and Uncle were bound together. But where? Kleio had an idea. Seth was (is?) an ancient, evil Egyptian god, widely-worshipped in Old Kingdom Egypt. But Horus, a more beneficent deity, grew in power and eventually eclipsed Seth, then forced his worshipers to hide. Eventually, they held their services in the most desolate, dire places. So – we figured if that were the case, we needed to know where the direst place in the area was. Rusee told us of a nearby swamp that everyone who ever entered were never seen again. We got Lucky to un-set his demolition charges, while we headed off to Yusuf's to see about picking up any Eye of Horus amulets or charms. Once there, we find out that our little minx had stopped by to add Yusuf to her string. She had not, however, prevented him from being able to help us as he instructed his assistant to let us take whatever we needed, so we charmed-up – and I picked up a khopesh with an Eye of Horus on it. With Lucky catching up to us, it was now off to the swamp. Fortunately, I was able to follow Uncle's trail until we got to a causeway leading to an island in the middle of the swamp. We arrived in time and in such a manner to be able to overhear the villainess – the daughter of the Psi-Wave-wielding Aamir Saqqaf, late of Cairo and the villain of the Sun God's Eye. She was boasting of her clever plan to Uncle and Yusuf, each bound in matching cannibal pots, ready for boiling. With that information available, we swing into action. Lucky bursts in first, running up to the minx, giving her a well-exectuted “dip-kiss-and-drop” while dropping off a small-enough stick of dynamite to merely move the pots off the fires. Bella sneaks in to try to sweet-talk our foe, but it appears that her thirst for vengeance was much stronger. I swing in from another side, Thea heads for Unc to free him and give him a weapon. Kleio begins to chant a prayer. Doc is opening fire. The Minx Casts a spell of Flames!!! at Kleio! But it looks like Kleio prayed up real good, as the flames merely go around her, not at her! So instead, The Minx calls up the zombies of the people we'd killed earlier to take another stab at us (ha! ha! Adventure Humor!). But Kleio's protection extends to us, and so the zombies are scrabbling at us impotently, while we work our way through them, and then onto Minx herself. Lucky finally puts her down with a punch. We gather together and finish freeing Yusuf, then prepare to leave. At that moment, a giant hand reaches out of the swamp and drags the Minx in. Seth apparently is a sore loser. ~~~~~ Back at the hotel, it is time for a talk. We press Uncle Horace for more information on our foe, and he obliges with... 1) He's a genius 2) In the Uncle Horace's chapter of the Registry of Wonders and Adventures, all the talk of those Stalwart Adventurers? Our parents were intermittent members of the roster, but Dr. Milton was there for EVERY one. And why was this apparent Archvillain a Stalwart Adventurer? Because.... 3) HE'S UNCLE HORACE'S SON!!!; <cue Melodramatic music> That last fact needed to be pulled from him like a bad tooth. How Milton turned from Reliable Helper to Archfiend, Uncle doesn't know. He knows that something happened at a time that Uncle was away; the event resulted in Dr. Milton killing his own family slowly, horribly! So now, Milton is an aspiring World Conqueror – so dangerous that Unc fears that it may have to come to killing him! If it does, then it must be done without hesitation – and Uncle fears that, because Milton is his son, that Unc might hesitate! We all assured him that we would not! If I must kill him, I will. Uncle's been hesitant to involve us too deeply – he promised our parents that he would let us be able to return to a normal life once done. But none of us are really concerned about that. Heavens, a “normal” life is the last thing I want! Interesting Side Note: The Iron Door leads to Milton's old room. I really, really, REALLY wish Uncle Horace had let us look through it before we left. For it MIGHT have important clues to Milton's behavior, likes, dislikes, thoughts. But I guess it's common behavior for Older Male Professors to run off to Dangerous Expeditions without letting their Younger Companions know all the Critical Details!
Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 4
Five days later, Matadi, Belgian Congo We spent the next week getting to know the city and the people. Yusuf lets us have the run of his shop in gratitude for our saving his life, but we don't abuse his generosity. I, for one, just keep the khopesh and the amulet we used to fight the Minx. Regarding her, Yusuf tells us that she'd been manipulating things in the city for quite a while, so I expect we've done them all a big favor. In any event, finally, the train arrives and it's time for us to go. On the way, Uncle “casually” notes that “things didn't go well, the last time I was here”, so we should go quietly through the city. So, we should not have been surprised when the train stopped in Leopoldville and we were greeted by a contingent of a dozen soldiers and an officer of the Congolese Defense Force who boarded our car (Pithy Quote from Uncle: “This isn't good...”). After politely disarming us, they generously offered to escort us to the Governor-General's office. With such a considerate invitation – how could we refuse? We are led through a bustling, growing city that aspired to grandeur. We come to the mansion of the Governor-General and are brought in. The G-G (his name, alas, escapes me) was not the same one as the one that Uncle Horace dealt with – as a matter of fact, there had been another Governor-General between them.. This, and other formal chit-chat occupied our time until the G-G dismissed the officer. Then the tone grew “friendlier”. Well, the tone of voice was friendlier. But once you put all the words together, they were not very friendly at all. You see, explained the G-G , it would appear that the Serpent Spirit had returned! Weeks ago, one of the managers at the brickworks on Ile M'Bamou saw it. Three days ago, the G-G sent A Lieutenant and a squad of twenty men to the brickworks to search for the Spirit and deal with it. The twenty men died; the Lt. - Miles von Asch, was the only survivor. So, our arrival was extremely fortuitous. Uncle Horace's legendary derring-do is just what the G-G needed! Wellll..., as it would seem that Uncle's derring-do seemed derring-done, we, his family, could no doubt continue his legacy! So, Uncle would be kept safely at the G-G's mansion while we went out to capture the Spirit. “Capture” you say? Welllll..., as it would seem that the G-G is building a zoo, perhaps its signature creature should be this Serpent Spirit? To ensure that we capture the being, and not kill it, of course, the G-G will thoughtfully retain our weapons so as to prevent any accidents! Lucky tries to lead a rebellion by refusing to go unless we were permitted access to our equipment. Unfortunately, Thea and I refused to back his stand. The G-G made it clear (to me, anyways) that he was holding Uncle hostage until we brought in the miscreant creature. I think, too, that Thea and I both had confidence that we would be able to arm ourselves, if opportunity arose. The G-G granted us permission to speak to the officer who had led the attack. Who, coincidentally, was the officer who escorted us off the train! And this was his tale: The disturbance was at Mine #4 of the brickworks on Ile M'Bamou; first, the Lt. sent in some workers. There was some shouting and the workers didn't come out, but nothing emerged – even the workers. Next, he sent the soldiers down. This time, there were screams and shootings and, again, none of them returned. However, something did, indeed, come up from the depths of the mine. It was 6 or 7 feet tall, 20 feet long; it looked like a thick serpent with a crocodile head to it. It had an eye the size of a small child. The creature seemed to be covered with – or made of – clay. The Lt. managed to block up the entrance, then returned to Leopoldville. And then, we came upon the scene. Obviously, we need more to go on. Fortunately, Kleio has an academic contact here(!) who she contacts. The professor tells us that the being is a river spirit. All the stories say that it lives in the “heart of the Congo” (to wit: Ile M'Bamou). It's a god, a defender of the helpless and downtrodden. All life in the Congo comes from her. We asked if we might be able to communicate with it. The professor said that the gods can be placated with offerings of valuables – and blood! With that information, and machetes and knives (and one shotgun that Lucky... “found”), we board a boat that was to take us to the island. It was piloted by a young woman named Nala who, in honor of the many coincidences that inform the life of Professor Horace Nutter, is the daughter of the local man that Uncle was planning to contact once we got here! She, however, was not at all thrilled to be playing the role of cabdriver to our group (though her disdain softened some for Lucky). However, it turns out that her dislike was fueled by her previous experiences with white travelers. Once we showed her that we weren't like other white travelers, she got a lot friendlier and informative (Her note about an island that she and her father used to fish from stirred some memories of Daddy and I from back in the day...). She also gives us more information on the River Goddess – like the locals' name for her: Mungu Wa Kipopu wa Mto. She gave an additional view of the affairs at Mine #4. The workers had found something odd, told their manager (who isn't bad for a Belgian). He looked in and something happened - “Babies need protecting!” The manager left, and in days, the Lt. and his troops came, and their story was told elsewhere. Soon enough, we reached our objective and disembarked. We went immediately to the brickworks, carefully entering a large , rectangular building – the kiln room. From the number of kilns, the way the building was built, and the natural ambient temperature, I would definitely not want to be in that place if all those kilns were going at once! We opened the door at the far end and saw the entrance to the mine, with a mechanical pump running alongside – and a remarkable sight, as well. We saw four clay men, busy digging a trench from the mine mouth to the building. These beings fled into the mine; we followed cautiously to the mouth. There was no opposition as we got to the entrance, where we ventured a friendly “halloo”. Receiving no reply, Lucky, Bella and I ventured further in. Eventually, we come upon this huge clay lump in front of us. Which opens a child-sized eye to gaze upon us. She is Mungu wa Kipopu wa Mto! We never planned to simply comply with the G-G's orders. We had been working out ideas how we could seem to comply enough to get Uncle safely away. If we could somehow give the locals some relief, we would do so. But no definite course of action presented itself yet. So, when I saw Lucky and Bella suddenly stiffen and I could hear, in my mind, Mungu begin to give them instructions, I could “tell” her truthfully (in my mind) “There's no need to control them! They will help willingly!” Lucky, then Bella shook free, and together, we presented her the situation and our solutions. None of them seemed good to her. At that moment, Lt. von Asch and his rifle made an appearance outside the mine. He announced himself by saying “Nothing personal, but I have to kill you all!” then opened fire. At that moment, a clay wall suddenly penned me and Lucky with Mungu; Bella was left outside. She worked her way towards the mine adit, while the other women kept low and out of sight, avoiding his half-blind shots. As he paused to reload, the Ladies of the Nutter Auxiliary – Plus One gave him reason to rue the overconfidence he showed in coming alone. Bella charged him from the front; the “Plus One” - Nala – whacked him one from behind; Doc applied the sedative to keep him down; they all trussed him like a turkey. While this is happening, Lucky and I continue to “talk” to her. She expressed surprise that some “Invaders” (her, alas, apt term for us whites) are not bad; it even impressed her. Then she explained her problem. Mungu was about to birth “her children”. Mungu is the Spirit of the River; she is the Mother of all Creatures of the Congo; she is their protector. But now, she is in a cycle of rebirth – she must create a brood of her children so that one of them can grow into becoming the next Mungu. But the children, who are in the form of a snake-like amphibian called caecilians, will need to get to the river in order to survive – thus, the trench. But the trench needs to be deepened, then filled with water in order to work as a route for her children to take. The mine pump is keeping the water at too low a level to fill the trough. We offered to help. Mungu said that we had “uchawi”, which I took to mean guts, or honor, or something like that. My supposition was so strong that, when she asked us if we had questions, I, for one, didn't think to ask what she meant by that. After that, her children burst forth, and Mungu was gone. The clay wall subsided, and Lucky and I were covered with her children. The effect brought back one of the most horrid memories of my Amazonian adventure – one that nearly broke me. That was a machete fight the remnant of our group had with a native hunting party. I had to split a man's head open and have his brains splatter on my shirt! I shook that memory away and headed to the river with my load to deposit them to their next stage of growth. In the meantime, Lucky found demolition materials and quickly finished the sluiceway from the mine to river. It was a simple task to stop the pump and the mine quickly filled with water and the excess, bearing the rest of Mungu's children, flooded out and into the river! That done, we now turned our attention to our captive. As we did, we hashed out our plan to get Uncle free. Namely, we would go back and deny that there was any such thing as a Spirit Serpent! We saw no evidence of any spirit, the natives (instructed by Nala) would claim that they'd seen nothing. We only had the word of the Lieutenant – and where was he? Well, right now, he was bound and helpless at our feet. But before we made sure that he wouldn't be available to gainsay our testimony, we had some questions we needed answered. First, we wanted to know what made him think he could take us all on by himself. Arrogance was the short answer; he thought himself capable of taking care of a bunch of mere women. Well, he was wrong there! The second question was why the obvious animus against Uncle? Apparently, the Governor-General that Uncle had hoodwinked in The Adventure That Wasn't eventually caught onto Uncle's legerdemain and left a standing order to his successors that if Uncle ever came through again, he was to be made to suffer! Well, Nutter 2, Belgians 0. With nothing left to learn, it was on to ensuring that our version of events remained uncontested. We sedated him again, ensured his bonds were secure, then we lowered him into the Congo to drown, get eaten, be dashed upon submerged rocks.... Whatever. Nala returned us to Leopoldville and went to spread the word among the workers. We saw the Governor-General and shrugged our shoulders and told him we saw nothing. Did we see Lt. von Asch? We look at each other in confusion. Heavens, no! We saw not a whisker! Well, there was nothing for it – Uncle was let go and we were free to leave. Lucky adulterated the concrete for the zoo construction on the way out. Last edited by Legauche on Wed Mar 10, 2021 7:24 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 5
February 1931, Middle Congo River For the past month, we have been traveling up the Congo, stopping occasionally for supplies. Nala is leading the boatmen. On the job, she doesn't have much time for chatting, In the meantime, Uncle has a deathgrip on the Red Book and the map case. Frankly, he seemed more concerned for the reference material than for himself! So,I can't sneak peaks at the Forbidden Knowledge (and instead, have to fight off an uneasy sense of deja vu!). I would hunt, but it just seems that lazily blazing away at the wildlife from the front of the boat would be the height of decadence – something a crass American tourist would do. Therefore, I spent my time watching our progress, observing the river, the wildlife, the people. And, keeping an eye out to make sure we're not being followed. As best as I could tell, we were not. Lucky had a much less stressful method of passing the time: he slept. We stopped at the riverport of Mgandaka to top off our supplies and rest briefly. When we moved on, we were on a river so broad that in places, we could not see both banks at the same time. It was shallow, too, full of sandbars. This helped account for Nala's concentration on the work at hand. One of our supply boats was ahead of us and it nudged into another sandbar. Only it wasn't a sandbar – it was a hippopotamus! And it was an angry hippotomus – it attacked the boat. Thea and I took up guns as it smashed the boat and dumped our supplies. But all our shots did was turn its fury on us. Nala did a superb job in getting us close enough to shore to minimize our risks of sinking, but the beast struck our boat and damaged it. Well, it was no more Miss Nice Girl; I traded in the Savage for the Thompson and emptied a box clip into the thing! I didn't kill it, but I did drive it away. We fished the boatmen from the wrecked boat out and guided our damaged boat to a clearing on the river and assessed the damage. It was bad enough – we lost much of our supplies and we needed to spend time repairing the boat. Mala and the other boatmen occupied themselves with the repair. Uncle Horace occupied himself trying to think something through, pacing about as he is wont to do when he's really thrashing out a problem. He let us know he'd discovered his answer when he suddenly straightened up and cried out “M'nguli!” Turns out that the people that he had helped in the War of the Ages were a half-day to the south of our position! Uncle is sure that they would be willing to help in the repairs as well as resupply us. So, the Nutters gear up and off we go! Uncle guides us and I get back into the swing of things, though this is a MUCH better situation than the last time I had to hack through a jungle! Eventually, we're about two-thirds, three-quarters of the way there when we all feel it – that sense of being watched. Uncle offers up the hopeful “I'm sure that they're friendly...” when we are quickly surrounded by armed warriors who do not seem friendly – though they don't immediately resort to violence, either. One of them asks “Why are white women going through the jungle?” Uncle tells us that they look like M'nguli, then introduces himself. But for once, the Holy Word “Nutter” seems to have no effect! The natives do not gleefully pump Uncle's hand or detail all the ways he saved them from this-or-that. It's funny what you miss when you come to expect something and it doesn't happen! We are told that we will be brought to the M'ganga Davou (“Priest Blood”), though that seems more a title than a name. That worthy would be the one to pass judgment upon our requests. Uncle had not heard of him, an ominous sign. Though Uncle is not greeted as hero, we aren't treated as villains and the warriors escort us to the village. The path there is apparently filled with the history of Uncle's last trip; left and right are places key to the history of his mission to the M'nguli. Kleio's and Doc's parents, Daddy and Thea's and Lucky's mothers all factor into these tales, tales he tells with an urgency and excitement that, frankly, he has long been reluctant to apply to his previous retellings. At last, in one place, at least, we find out some details of our parents' history with Uncle. Our arrival dampens not Uncle's fervor in recounting his tales; if anything, he is even more animated (apparently, his name among the people was “White Man Who Talks Until Tomorrow”. Heh!). More than can be said for our reception at the hands of the villagers. Their restraint could be considered understandable as a consequence of Uncle's previous visit having occurred before most of them lived. But it seemed that one warrior, the one who had been least impressed with us on the trip in, was liberal in his delivering stink-eyes at anyone who seemed likely to greet us with anything resembling enthusiasm, so that cast suspicion on the motives of the M'ganga. The arrangement of the village was, for the most part, as Uncle remembered, except for the building we were being led to. From it came a man in his 30s, covered with symbols drawn with white mud all over his body. This was the M'ganga Davou, and he is hostile! He peppers us with questions – who we were, what were we doing there, the like. Things were getting tense. At long last, though, the Nutter Effect kicks in! Through the crowd bursts a huge, friendly old man – M'temi (Chief) Ayubu Okeke, and he sweeps Uncle, then each of us, in his effusive embrace, then turns to individual warriors and regales them with tales how each of their parents were saved by Uncle, or benefited from his presence with specific examples. With that, the restraint the villagers had upon our arrival broke and we were welcomed warmly. The M'temi heard our problems and immediately dispatched craftsmen to help with fixing the boats and promised to replace our supplies. He then explained that, with the growing presence of white men in the area, the M'ganga Davou had been established as a kind of general who kept tabs on the strangers. While the M'temi said the Davou overstepped his boundaries, I have to say that I can't blame the Davou, nor can I fault his suspicions. For all of the M'temi's desire to stay open and friendly (“Better to go in with arms wide open so you don't miss out on gathering in a friend.”), it may be the Davou's caution that keeps his people free. Still, we are now guests, and guests at a very propitious time! It turns out that as a result of Uncle's diplomacy, the villages of the M'nguli and the Watambo have united! We are at the start of a celebration of that unification! Each of us is invited to join the villagers in performing some talent. Kleio gave a lecture, Doc did something-or-other (I confess that I was rather distracted by an energetic dance that several of the young men of the tribes performed!), Thea pulled off Uncle's coin trick. I dusted off my college gymnastics routine, but I was rusty – though the locals still cheered it enthusiastically and said (like they said to all my cousins, as it turned out) that I would do phenomenally well in the contests that were to happen tonight! But the winner of the Nutters was, undoubtedly, Lucky's pantomime of our encounter with the Mungu Wa Kipopu wa Mto. It was amazing, and the locals ate it up! It was so well-received that they got Lucky to perform it a couple other times during the day. He did a really great job – as highly Lucky regards his talents, I think he actually sells himself short! When he performed it that night during the contest, some of the villagers even played out some of the parts and Lucky won the storytelling portion of the contest. In the meantime, I had ironed out the kinks of my routine and won my part of the contest. Lucky and I, as well as other winners of their respective categories, received an imaginatively-worked copper pendant. I was very pleased – I guess I'm more competitive than I thought! We continue feasting and celebrating, then we are told that the Great Contest begins tomorrow! It involves having to hunt and catch three animals, then bring them back and cook them! I know my eyes lit up at that! There would be two winners – one man, one woman. With festivities over for the evening, it was time to rest up and get ready for the next day's contest. The next day, those of us who were interested in competing (among the Nutters, it was me and Thea) prepared to go. I was told I could not bring my rifle – gunshots would disturb prey for a long distance. OOPS! So, I got the opportunity to set snares. In unfamiliar territory, with unfamiliar prey. As it is, I managed to get a red river hog, but a kudu went by without my being able to do much about it (the idea of taking on such a large animal with a knife was immediately dismissed. I wasn't THAT desperate.). While I was foraging for materials and a suitable trail to set my snare on, I came across a blighted area. And it wasn't just that the vegetation looked sickly; there was no animals, no sound – not even insects! Furthermore, the land “felt bad”. As well it should – this was the Eneo Baya (“Land Bad”), the cursed territory that nearly brought the M'nguli and Watanga to blows! (The story is that the Watanga came by, looking for additional hunting grounds and found this land. The M'nguli knew of the land's curse and tried to warn the Watanga, but the Watanga didn't listen. When their hunters were lost or cursed, the Watanga accused the M'nguli of doing it and war was close. At this point, Uncle and our family members came in and persuaded the Watanga that the M'nguli were innocent.) It is an eerie place. Thea, who, sensibly, went for fish, had her own brush with the uncanny. She came across a sunken temple carved out of a single rock – the Hekalu Ia Miungu ya Dunia (Temple to the Earth God). It looks like the M'nguli have been given great responsibility in overseeing all of these sacred sites! Anyways, all of the contestants returned at the end of the day – many of them with the requisite number of catches. As we were getting our quarry reviewed, the cousins who had remained behind came to us and told us what they had learned: the prize for winning the Great Contest. The man and woman who win get to choose their spouse! And, since I'm participating, I qualify! (I really need to start asking some questions before I dive into things...). Well, it's just as well that I didn't do so good, I guess. Tomorrow's part of the contest includes the hunters cooking their kills. Those of us who didn't make the limit will have a chance to do so. I figure that I may as well finish what I started. I might see if I can't get a spear – I'd be willing to tackle a kudu with a spear – and just see how it goes. Last edited by Legauche on Sun Apr 18, 2021 2:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalCommentary and observations are welcome!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 6
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Later that night...: In the Eneo Baya In what is becoming a recurring theme in my life, I am awakened by a scream. I spin out of my hammock, kit up and join the others outside. We quickly determine that the scream came from the direction of the Eneo Baya, so we head off. Just at the border of that ominous land, the very spot I'd been at earlier in the day, as a matter of fact, was the likely source. Or..., most of the likely source. Our lights caught a bloody figure, feebly moving and moaning in pain. Using the light to check for the perpetrator(s), I noticed a couple of limbs tossed nearby. As we closed in on him, we discovered that he was the M'ganga Davou! The news got worse. As we went to him to see if we could give him aid, the Davou greeted us with the declaration that he had betrayed his people to the Italians! He then gloated that he had turned over to them the defensive artifacts stored in the Hekalu la Miungu ya Dunia – the Mask of the Great Boar, the three Golden Spears and the five Earth Mother's Eggs. He mentioned that they had not “blessed themselves”, so the Mask apparently transformed the Italians to wereboars. The wereboars showed their gratitude by leaving the Davou as we'd found him. Still, the Davou had no regrets. He felt that the white men had great magic and the M'nguli were not strong enough. Shortly thereafter, he succumbed to his wounds. The trail of the Italian Wereboars led to the center of the Eneo Baya; the natives were understandably reluctant to pursue. Before we ventured in, I suggested that we head back to the Hekalu temple to see if there were any clues we could uncover. The interior was magnificent! Even as worn as it was by... time? Deliberate damage? As an archaeological subject, I'm sure the structure would reward years of research, but we had more pressing issues. The temple featured a central room, with 5 small pillars (once 9), 3 “cups” and a large central pillar. I suspect that these were the erstwhile resting places of the relics that were once housed there. A great domed ceiling rose overhead, bearing a design. I first thought it very reminiscent of the outline of the Ile de M'Bamou, but I think less of that resemblance the more I contemplate it. Around the circumference of the dome, there were sixty circular portals, one of which the moon shined through. And I now take myself thoroughly to task for not making better note of where that beam of light shone! I am getting sloppy, and that could lead to failure – if not more dire consequences! Perhaps that information is irrelevant, but, as Daddy used to say, “It's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it!” At this point Lucky, then I, try to concentrate on the River Goddess – I mean, you never know... But we'd somehow forgotten that she'd exploded into her countless young. One of whom would eventually grow back into the Mungu wa Kipopu wa Mto – but, alas, not yet. Presuming that said concentration would produce a useful result, of course. We examined the room as best we could, but nothing seemed to present itself as being immediately helpful. So, we prepared to return to the body of the traitor to resume pursuit of the Italians. The M'nguli instructed us in the blessing ritual so that we could use the artifacts if we found them and if we needed them. Then, we screwed up our courage and entered the cursed land. As we followed the trail through the jungle, it shifted subtly. It still felt familiar, but now, it was a different kind of familiar – an older kind of familiar. I heard someone behind me and I turned to look for which cousin was coming up... and instead, I could faintly make out the figure of Professor Pollard! For those of you unfamiliar with my past, archaeology professor Edward E. Pollard of Columbia University had been my academic advisor in college. After I graduated, he let me join his (uneventful) expedition to Abu Simbal. While taking the trip, my Daddy died. A year-and-a-half later – last year – I signed on to Prof. Pollard's expedition up the Amazon. That one was too eventful. We were attacked by natives and driven deep into the jungle and, to make a very long story short, I helped get us back to civilization. Prof. Pollard, on the other hand, had an annoying tendency to contract a wide variety of debilitating jungle fevers, rendering him useless for much of the ordeal. Oh – and while we were considered dead to the outside world, my mother died. And here was the professor! With lips pursed in disapproval, he said “Miss Morgan! You should be ashamed that you would be keeping secrets!” Which was rich! It was his secrecy that turned what was already a disaster into a fiasco! And so, referring to that, I growled “Ha! How's it feel to have that shoe on your foot!” As we kept trudging, he kept yammering, so, fed up, I decided to banish this annoying specter once and for all: “Shut up! I'll get you out of this jungle... AGAIN!” With that, the figure of my erstwhile mentor faded, and the Brazilian jungle faded back into the Congolese one. I saw my cousins with me in a small clearing. Each of us were clearing our heads, shaking ourselves out of our fugues. We survived the first blow from the Eneo Baya, though the effort to resist did take something physically out of us all. Once we finished regathering our wits, we then pushed on down the trail. We finally came to a large clearing. By an eerie light, we could make out one large tent still standing (the source of the eerie light), two or more other tents torn to pieces, uniform shreds and camp equipment scattered about and an Italian military truck. As we took this all in, we heard rustling as though something was charging us through the underbrush. We scattered. Thea headed for the truck and one giant boar – or, should I say, wereboar – pursued her to it. Kleio and I darted for the glowing tent; the boar that had chased Thea turned and bowled me over and sent me flying feet away into the grass! Lucky unshipped his shotgun and pumped a shell into the other wereboar that turned its attention to him. It fazed the boar, but the damage was far less than it should have been. In the meantime, the first boar turned its attention back to Thea, trying to get her out of the truck. I was able to get up and, with Kleio, got inside the tent. Our suspicions proved correct: the Mother's Eggs and the Golden Spears were all there. We took up an egg each and performed the blessing (the Davou's unintended warning standing us in good stead here), grabbed a spear and worked over the wereboar attacking Thea – the spears were VERY effective. In the meantime, Lucky managed to blast his attacker into a state of constant regeneration until we could come over and finish it off as well. We now seemed to have control of the field and most of the missing artifacts – the Mask (as well as the third Italian) was still missing. Among the papers still around (and a radio communication that Lucky fielded), we learned that the Italians had sent out a number of teams throughout the area, apparently for these items. A map showed us where the Italians' base camp was – along the banks of the River of the Gods. If the Masked Italian retained enough of his mind, that would be where he would be heading to next. He had the advantage of a head start and little need of following a pre-existing trail. We might have the advantage of extra speed and maybe more endurance. We packed up the truck with the weapons and equipment we could salvage from the camp and we are preparing to go. I should have Doc take a look at the damage done me by the charging wereboar. I'd also love to send back to the village one of the spears and several of the eggs... just in case. But I fear that the time required would turn an already narrow chance to intercept the Italian Boar into no chance at all, and that could mean we would need to take on the entire Italian base camp in order to retrieve the Mask. - Which reminds me: we need to go over what information we have to get an estimate on how many enemies, who they are and how they are equipped. As I climb into the truck, with Lucky taking the wheel, I feel that thrill for adventure kicking into a higher gear. I can't wait!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 7:
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Close to dawn: To The River of the Gods Our track led south, southeast – unfortunately, away from the M'nguli village. Given the head start our quarry had, we didn't think we had to time to go back, deposit some of the spears and eggs, then return and even have a ghost of a chance to intercept him. So, after we loaded up the truck, Lucky got behind the wheel, I manned the machine gun, the others piled in, and we were off! Our track crisscrossed with that of the Mask-wearer, though his tracks were human, not the expected boar. Though we were heartened by the realization he'd be slower, we never caught up. There were times when we thought we'd gotten ahead, only to have that hope dashed by finding his tracks return to our route further down. This continued until we got about a mile away from the camp position. While we were traveling, we reviewed the papers we had and listened in on the transmissions from the military radio. The former hinted that we would have twenty or thirty opponents at the camp. Many of the latter seemed aimed at the former possessors of our device, demanding status reports. Some more referred to patrols. Finally, there were exasperated transmissions regarding the malfunctions of a “mission critical” device called “DAT-3”. We all hoped that the malfunctions would continue! Now that we were at our cut-off point of the chase – and now that we had to accept the fact that we'd failed to intercept our quarry – we needed to get sneaky and scout ahead. Lucky and I volunteered for the job. After a little while, we came up unnoticed to five Italian soldiers. They were waiting for Our Guys; while they were waiting, they were chatting among themselves. One item of note was “The Find has been referred to The Expert”. My first thought was of The Mask. Once we determined that they were staying put and not actively patrolling, we moved on toward the river. Finally, we caught a glimpse of the River of the Gods. The Congo River is often a great, surging, muddy beast of a watercourse; roiling with activity. The River of the Gods is... not.... It looked like it was covered with glass, black glass. We could see people walking ON it! I wondered if the “DAT-3” was responsible. In any event, a closer look was mandatory! As we closed, we suddenly heard the noise of an engine trying – and failing – to sputter to life. The engine cut-off was swiftly followed by a stream of Italian profanity that impressed Lucky to no end. We cautiously moved forward until we reached the riverside at a sheltered vantage point. From this, we could see that the river wasn't covered with a black glass. No, it was more like a deep purple glass, or glass-like surface. Closer inspection showed that there was movement underneath. My first thought was fish, trapped beneath. Ahhh, naivete... Looking across the river, we could finally see – and hear – the military camp. Another aborted attempt to start the machines ensued, but among the twenty or so tents set up, none seemed to stand out as a potential shelter for the DAT-3, an ominous-enough portent by itself. The activity around and about the tents seem to support our initial estimates of the number of our foes. With all this information, Lucky and I decided to return to the others. We made it back to the truck without incident and told the others of what we'd seen. We decided that we would abandon the truck. There was little chance we'd be able to bluff our way past the outpost and we decided that the element of surprise would be more useful to us than the mobility and firepower of the vehicle. So we took the equipment we thought we'd need and went off on foot. Avoiding the spot where we'd found the outpost, we retraced our steps to the edge of the river. We were beginning to investigate the surface of the river when we heard the machine suddenly “whoosh” to life. Before we could do anything, we all had this feeling of falling and... We are now standing on an upper slope of a MUCH steeper valley than that we'd been just been standing at! We estimated that from the deepest part of the valley to the narrow, jagged rift, it was a hundred stories high! Not to mention, we were now looking UP at the purple glass surface! After a couple of brief explorations, we gave up on trying to break through (though, looking back as I write this, I'm not sure that we tried everything that we could to do so...). Instead, we turned our attention to a weird silver-and-gold tower that dominated the jungle-choked landscape and headed towards it. We descended the slope and quickly entered the near edge of the jungle. Shortly upon our entry, we heard some screeching and grunting. Following the noise, we came upon a six- or seven-foot tall lizard – a dinosaur! O, how Bets would hand over any limb of hers to be seeing it as I was! - standing on its powerful hind legs at the base of a large tree. It possessed a set of ferocious teeth and a pair of muscular arms with wicked talons. In the tree were covering several... ape-men, is the best way to describe them. They were Darwin's Missing Links, really. They were ineffectively pelting the fierce lizard with twigs and leaves. For myself, my sympathies went out to our closer cousins, the creatures being beset, so, not knowing if their besieger could climb, I resolved to help. In case there might be Italians down here, I decided against the Thompson and, instead, charged it with one of the Golden Spears. I did score a hit, but not a kill. I had cause to regret my charge when the predator replied with a vicious slash! The other cousins opened fire and together, we brought it down. I stepped back and we waited for the ape-men to descend. After moments of hesitation, they did. One of them, noting our peaceful intentions to them, stepped forward. After a few moments of him speaking some kind of guttural language, he tried a different one and – marvelously! - hit upon an ancient tongue that Kleio knew! We are besieged with questions – particularly one: Were we there to save them? “From what?” we ask; “The 'devils'! And 'Taksslee'!” We couldn't get anything else out of them. But we were in an unfamiliar place; if we were going to be here for any length of time, we would need a refuge. And we'd built up some goodwill with these people; this would be a chance to build more. So, we tell them that we are, indeed, here to help and they lead us to their village. Their route first led us nearer to the Tower; it had the remarkable quality of looming even larger than it should have as we got closer. It was as if the Tower was the subject of a gradual close-up in a movie – except it was happening in real life. This was not the only anomaly of the setting. Turns out, I could have saved myself a lot of grief against the dinosaur by using the tommygun, because we figured out that sound didn't carry as far in this atmosphere – which is no doubt part of the reason why this jungle is much quieter than the one in the world above. The insects – normally so ubiquitous in tropical settings that I never bother to comment on them – they are greatly reduced in number! And the light was tinted by the deep purple glass that covered the “sky”, the course of the river above us. That was funny, writing that. “We are in a Land Beneath the River!” Sounds suitably dramatic, fit to take its place among the tales of the Registry of Wonders and Adventures. With the added novelty of being an environment Uncle Horace had not performed in. Unless he had, but tells no stories. And a place of which Uncle will tell no tale is worthy of great concern. The ape-men call themselves “Parunchi” and they start to prepare a feast. In the meantime, we are given free rein to wander the settlement. We watch their family groups care for each other and prepare the vegetarian meal. We find out that our speaker isn't considered the true leader. They have a Speaker, but he had been taken away days ago. Investigating his hut, we find an ancient vellum written in a script that Kleio managed to puzzle out some talk about some“Portal”. Our translator had no clue as to the meaning. In any event, it was feast-time, so we were presented with a variety of fruits, tubers, berries and nuts, washed down with fresh water or juices. Members of the village danced and our translator was very obsequious. He maintained that we were “The Voice”! “'The Voice'? What's the voice of?” we asked. This introduced a little suspicion in their eyes. We tried a slightly different tack. “Where did you hear The Voice before today?” “Didn't” was the succinct answer. Apparently, they expected The Voice to know all this already. Which is the tricky thing when you present yourself as someone's angel; you can't let them see that the wings are fake. We backed off further inquiries. Our hosts recovered their geniality, but at this point, with the mood turned serious, they decided that it was time for them to make their formal supplication. Ever since the Parunchi had found themselves in this world, they had shared it with a race called The Taksslee. For time immemorial, the Taksslee lived north of the Tower and the Parunchi lived in the south and all was peace. But, 10 “darknesses” ago, the Taksslee came and demanded sacrifices. The Parunchi, the peaceful folk that they were, surrendered them; their Speaker was one. We asked what the Taksselee looked like. Some of them pointed off to the distance at... A half-dozen short, man-like lizards with spears and daggers. The leader stepped forward and hissed in the same old tongue that the Parunchi used. “Hey, Parunchi – time for another sacrifice!” The translator stood up and, placing himself carefully behind us, replied, “No! We got The Voice!” Not liking the unaccustomed tone of defiance, the Taksslee readied their spears. I put a burst of .45s into the leader and dropped him. This only made them pause a split-second, and they pressed their attack. A short, sharp fight ensued. I took a nasty spearing and Lucky went down under some smart, sharp blows! When we'd brought down the last, we rushed to Lucky. Fortunately, his woulds were not fatal; but they were bad. Our hosts immediately took him – and I – into their charge. Their medics might have used primitive tools, but they were expert practitioners. I had reason to hope that we could be able to begin our visit of the Taksslee – and the Tower between us – in a couple of days!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 8
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Morning 1, Parunchi Village, Land Under The River The first thing we noticed when we got up was that Lucky and I were all better! Honestly, I thought that it would take me a couple of days to heal, and Lucky another day or two after that. Instead – we were completely healed! My regard for the medical skills of our hosts skyrocketed! The Parunchi dismissed our praise with the reply “All is as the gods will it!” With this, there was no reason to delay our trip to the Taksslee. Our hosts had little definite knowledge of where their village was, but they thought that the trail would be obvious. So we started to follow the river valley leading to the Tower. We were close to where the valley opened up to a jungle that lay between us and another river that ran in front of the Tower. That new river led off to a gap in the northwest – likely to the Taksslee. At that spot, we came upon a ten-foot-wide crevasse that the Parunchis' river fell into. We quickly negotiated the gap and entered the edge of the jungle. While the pests were not as persistent as in the land above, the intractable nature of the wilderness was, and we quickly found a trail that the Taksslee used to speed our way. We were halfway through, ducking under branches too thick to hack away when we all had the feeling of being watched. Shortly thereafter, we saw them. They are hard to describe. The closest I can come is that they're little homunculi with leathery skin, colered tan, with a splotchy green/red/blue pattern on top. They have no really defined neck – the head kind of projects off it's shoulders. The four eyes are large for the head-size and a uniform dark green/black color and no defined iris. They are arranged on the head in such a way as to easily give 180-degree vision. The lipless mouth beneath the eyes went right across their faces, studded with 6-8 short, curved teeth in individual sockets in place of a lower lip. They have huge triangular ears, almost like winged mouse wings. The top of their heads have a pair of purple antennae a little longer than their head where the ear tops meet the skull, and inside of them, two shorter antennae tipped with little glowing knobs. At first, we saw only a couple. At the same time, we noticed that when we spoke, our words would echo in our heads. It didn't bother me much, but Lucky became debilitated. While we were figuring this out, more of the creatures came and Lucky was not getting better. As we didn't know if the creatures were responsible for the effect, or just taking advantage of it, or even just curious, we just left as quietly as we could, bearing Lucky as we did. The creatures did not follow and soon, we were away from the effect. Soon, we were out of the jungle and the Tower was ahead and to our right, while the valley leading to the Taksslee was ahead and to our left. Linking the two was a river, much larger than the stream that watered the valley of the Parunchi. A bridge spanned it right in front of the Tower, so we detoured there to examine it. We approached it cautiously, but there was no sign of any activity. Close up, the silver-and-gold coloring scheme was executed in a swirling manner; there was no sharp delineation between the two. There were also no windows and only one entryway. The entry seemed less a door and more a kind of camera lens shutter-style of opening. Around and about the opening were pictographs that resembled those on the documents that we'd found in The Speaker's hut – and equally untranslatable by Kleio. Lucky and I touched the surface of the gateway and we felt a humming vibration. I push on it, to no avail. Speaking various pass phrases failed to change the situation in any way, so we decided to leave this conundrum be for now. Returning to the river, we followed it into the valley of the Taksslee. Unlike that of the Parunchi, the ground there is rocky and dead. The river flowed into a rank swamp along the north wall about half-way down the valley. More disturbing than the odor, though, was the fact that the vegetation was completely unfamiliar! I, for one, have seen a wide variety of terrain and climate conditions, and I recognized none of the plants. None of the others recognized any, either. While the lighting had gotten much worse – it looked like we were no longer under the purple-glass surface that had mirrored the course of the River of the Gods, and so we were moving into a kind of a cave. We debated methods of navigating through the swamp, but we realized that the waterways weren't an option. We found a well-worn trail so we followed it in. Shortly, we came upon a couple of Taksslee guards, who we quickly dispatched. Finally, we came to an open area of spongy ground. There were a large number of burrows, one of which suddenly discharged one of the lizard-men, who scurried over to another burrow and popped him(?)self in. More such traffic soon ensued, as well as a few members of the settlement ambling away. And, fortunately, away from us, as well! The next thing we noticed was that we saw a huge specimen of the Taksslee tied to a cross in the middle of the settlement. He – I presume – was slumped and motionless; we quickly determined he was dead. Looked like he'd taken a terrific beating! The locals did not seem pleased to have him displayed so; most looked away as the passed him. When they didn't go out of their way to avoid him. I'm pretty feisty, but I would not care to match fists with whoever could produce such results. We went around the village, wanting to get the lay of the land before we do anything else. About halfway around, we came up behind a particularly impressive-looking mound, complete with a couple of guards. We stopped to listen – and it was a good thing, too. We were able to overhear a conversation between who we thought to be the chief and one of his lackeys. They were talking about rounding up more sacrifices and wondering if the next raid would provide enough sacrifices to satisfy “him” (early betting would probably put the answer at “no”). I was all for busting in and breaking up the party, but fortunately, Lucky's common sense intervened. We decided to go in to negotiate a settlement. And, negotiate, we did. The Takssleee we skeptical that “the gods who sent us here (would) come to help us?” Turned out that a while back, the “Demon” came in and started killing Taksslee – with its bare hands! It offered to stop killing them if the Taksslee would produce something for it to kill instead. If we would kill the Demon, we offered, there would be no need for the sacrifices. The Taksslee decided to accept our offer. Why not, I suppose. If we succeeded, then they'd be rid of a nuisance with no effort spent; if not, they could continue what they were doing. They favored us with a vague warning that the Demon was not alone in its valley. Before we left, we ventured to ask about the Taksslee on the cross. Turns out, he was the loser in a contest for leadership. I prefer democracy. The river found its way out the other end of the swamps, flowing deeper into the valley-cave, deeper into the darkness. By the light of our flashlights, we saw the river run faster, straighter. We also noticed that suddenly, we reached a place where noise was no longer muffled. It felt like I had popped my ears. One of the first things we noticed in our new-found clarity was the steady rush of a waterfall! We followed the sound down the river and soon, we came to the edge of the cliff that it plunged over. The floor was outside of the range of our flashlights, but not that far outside; we figured it to be 40' or so. We carefully descended and came to a grisly discovery – the bodies of some of the Parunchi sacrifices. But just as we came to that conclusion, we felt a tremor in the earth and the sound of a huge body crashing through the jungle towards us. We opted to regain the high ground. By the time we did, a huge beast emerged! A tyrannosaurus rex! One of The Girls from my university years – Betsy Delecroix – is a paleontologist, and she delighted in telling us the latest finds – and the often bloody behaviors those finds likely indulged in during their lives. Well, if she'd been willing to pay a limb in order to see the smaller predator we first encountered, she would have handed over everything else to see this brute! If anything, having the King Tyrant Lizard before me in flesh-and-blood beggared any of Betsy's descriptions! I sent a ragged tommygun burst towards it, but I was too rattled for it to be effective. Lucky launched a stick of dynamite into its mouth, but it seems that it only infuriated the beast. As we backed away, it rammed the cliffside, causing a portion of it to crumble down. Fortunately, we all were able to escape following the fallen ground and, with no easy prey, the great predator stalked away! I suspect that this was the subject of the “vague warning” from the Taksslee chief.
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalAn Interlude:
Maddy — <massages her forehead>I don't remember us asking for a description of The Demon. I also don't remember asking about what the Taksslee did with the "sacrifices". I really hope that one of you is a lot smarter than I am! Thea — The answer I think to the former was Look at us like idiots "It's the Demon.” Maddy — It's awful having to be representatives of gods we do not know, playing parts we haven't rehearsed in a play whose script we've never seen. It's awfully exhilarating! Thea — It certainly is that! Lucky — Never. Leaving. New York. Again. Maddy — Whaaaat? But... the fresh air! The exercise! And they say travel broadens your horizons! <smirks> Lucky — Central park is fine. Thea — Eh, both have a level of hideous monsters to deal with. Lucky — That's no way to talk about the street vendors. Maybe the politicians, but not the street vendors. Maddy — <smiling wickedly>You don't think your new spouse might not like New York City? Lucky — Not. Happening. I will burn this whole continent down around our ears. Maddy — I dunno... I think that little play you put on impressed them a LOT! Lucky — Maybe I'll ask our cousin if he needs a corruptible henchperson. Thea — I was not talking about street vendors, you try walking through park in the dark in gloves and girdle etc! Frankly dear cousin, we are safer in the jungle! Lucky — You think I haven't crossed the park in women's clothing, dear cousin? Maddy — I didn't, but now that you mention THAT, do tell! Lucky — Not until I am back in New York. Thea — <brow arch> I am not in the least surprised. And no wonder they call him Lucky, eh, Maddy? Maddy — <laughs, turns back to Lucky>Why wait? It's not like you'll get overheard by someone you'll see back in the city!<laughs again> Lucky — Because I'm on strike. Until my working conditions improve, and my work/life balance comes back to normal, Striking. Maddy — Your work/life balance was NEVER normal, Lucky! You're a Nutter! Lucky — It was a minimal amount of work, and a lot of living an easy life. Maddy — <laughs again> Thea — And here I was enjoying being properly active again! Maddy — No kidding, Thea! <takes a deep breath> I was slowly getting squirelly back in the city! Lucky — And while I understand the need to stop our cousin from taking over the world or destroying it or whatever, plus avenge our parents.... It seems that we seriously could have just gone directly to Cairo, and then we also would not have lost the maps and books in the Congo. Maddy — Yeah, I see your point. But, thing is, I think Unc is playing it by ear. <smiles> Anyways - now - I'm living the dream! Lucky — I would like to point out that nightmares are also dreams. Maddy — <wicked grin> Yep. Thea — Sure, they are. Lucky — Also, that I'm the only one of us who didn't have a shrink that they left in New York without canceling their appointments. Maddy — <waves hand dismissively> He wasn't doing anything for me, anyways. I got better healing hunting up in Maine. I only did it cuz of Uncle's insistence. Thea — I did cancel thank you very much! <mock offended look>I said family emergency, he said I had better make sure I'm still talking to /someone/ <sticks out tongue> Maddy — You're talking to us, right, Thea? That counts, doesn't it? Thea — I am talking to you, and for the most part have been less triggered spending time with you too! Maddy — <pleasantly surprised>Great! <smiles> Is it because you're getting used to the noise? Lucky — I suspect its more because I haven't fired a mortar in weeks. Maddy — You getting the shakes, Lucky? Lucky — Yes, but for decent scotch and a pizza. For temperate weather and a nice cooling breeze off the sound. Thea — Less used to the noise, more used to the noise with family around. And....I feel like I'm...useful which is a nice change Maddy — You've always been useful, Thea! You've helped me when I came home those two times, with Uncle telling me a parent died while I was away! <fingers necklace> Thanks so much! Thea — <hugs> You specially know what I mean though, Maddy — <hugs back> Yeah. Lucky — <wanders off> Maddy — <looks over at Lucky> You sure you want to be doing that, Lucky? What if that big monster's daddy comes by? Thea — Then he'll launch the mortars. Win/win? Lucky — At least it'll be quiet in its stomach. Maddy — Nah. You'll be complaining all the way through the gastrointestinal tract! Maddy — <giggles> I can't stop thinking what a grumpy pile of... stuff you'd be! Thea — I don't think he'd be digestible. Lucky — <shrugs. Crumples up a sheet of paper and stuffs it back into his pocket before wandering back> Thea — You okay Lucky? Maddy — <genuinely contrite>Sorry, Lucky. I didn't mean anything by it!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 9
Journal of Madelyne Morgan Vol. 3 Later that “evening”, Land Under the River: Now that we knew what else roamed this valley, we could better deal with it. We found a creature, killed it, then tossed it down the cliff to distract the tyrannosaur, then descended to the bottom of the cliff a distance away. I thought that we might see if we could come across any possible survivors, but those few who survived the drop had trails that usually ended abruptly! As my hopes were dashed, we turned to the river that re-formed at the foot of the falls and continued along it. Far too soon, we once again confronted our monstrous nemesis. A sharp fight ensued; so sharp that we convinced the beast that there was easier prey to seek elsewhere. At this point, we notice that the temperature and humidity have both gone up. We followed the river for a couple of hours when, to our right, we suddenly noticed a blink – a light, coming from the wall of the valley. This required immediate investigation! It was the first example of artificial light we've seen down here! We soon reached the fissure in the wall that the light came from. It was narrow – we had to go in single-file. At the end of the short passage, we were in a odd tunnel that ran perpendicular to our entry – which was a break in the wall. To our left, a short distance away, the tunnel was blocked by a massive plug. We briefly tried it, but it was solid and we figured no way of removing it. Even Lucky figured his skill and the materials at hand were not enough. So we headed down to the open end, about twice the distance from the break than the plug was. It opened into a kind of control room, huge, round, domed, full of lights and buttons, tubes and wires and switches and almost vibrating to the sound of a low hum. Very much like the domain of a science-villain you'd see in one of those B-movie serials (not that I've ever watched any such “low-brow” entertainment!). The most important detail, though, was that the hum wasn't the only sign that the room was active! Most switches and buttons had an array of lights near them as well as labels, the latter being in the script we'd found on the Tower and in the Speaker's papers. The number of lights varied between two to six. The lights were the colors of the rainbow – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. Not all stations had all six lights, but the lights they had all started at red and went up the rainbow as far as it went; there were more reds than violets. To me, this seems to show that the builders did not have a specific color as a warning light, like we have red; the number of buttons and indicators just depicted the scale and how finely the scale was calibrated. Another detail quickly made itself apparent. The air was drier and cooler, much more comfortable! Notwithstanding that, though, we had little reason to stay. There were no other exits we could find. The Demon was obviously not here. And in a rare display of restraint, we restrained ourselves from random button-pushing. So we gathered ourselves together and left, returning to the fuller darkness and the steamier climate. Towards the end of this valley, we saw a large cave mouth to our left – a worthy target for exploration, we thought! But as we picked our way through the debris of an old landslide, I got the feeling we were being watched and I had just warned the others when the Italian Officer, transformed into a boar-like form by the Boar's Mask on his face, burst in among us. He came in, snarling, and we immediately noticed that he had an ill-fitting crown tilted aslant on his head. We immediately deployed the Golden Spears and Kleio and I scored some points (ha-ha! “Points”! More Adventure Humor!), and the beast-man retreated some and tried to negotiate by claiming to have a way to get us safely back up to the surface. Of course, this would have left him to continue his depredations so we declined. Another round of attacked ensued. We were wearing him down, then Lucky got in and wrestled the mask off our foe. Instead of transforming back, the beast went berserk. However, his combat skills didn't improve any and we finally laid him out. Only now that he was dead did he revert back to his original form! With the guardian of the cave dispatched, we could return our attention to the cave. Upon entry, we couldn't help but notice that the cave was well-appointed, especially for someplace inhabited by a vicious creature. A quick search revealed the presence of a Parunchi dressed in fine vestments – The Speaker! We freed him instantly and, speaking in that old language, he asked for “the crown”. We deduced that he was referring to the crown that had been upon the were-boar's head, so Lucky returned it to the old Parunchi. Instantly, the temperature and humidity moderated! The crown, like the Tower, was a product of The Gods. Gods to whom we bore a great resemblance to in what few “pictures” he had of them. Though, if we be them, I hope they never have need to use any device I created! There's a reason why I'm in archaeology! His description of the wonders of The Gods led us naturally to the subject of the Room In The Fissure, and once we made sure The Speaker had recovered enough from his ordeal to return with us, we left. Along the way, we tried to find the light that had attracted us to the fissure, but, maddeningly, we could see no trace and I think I bungled in trying to find our path to-and-from. Lacking the ability to show what we had seen, we were forced to describe it as best we could. The Speaker allowed that it sounded like the handiwork of The Gods as well. Soon enough, we return to the Taksslee Village to recount our victory and re-establish good relations once again between the Taksslee and the Parunchi. With The Speaker by our side, that task turned out to be very easy, and we left the Taksslee having re-established the peace between the peoples. As a rewards, The Speaker offered to get us back to above the river. It turns out that his crown gave him control of The Tower, and that building contained a device that would get us back onto the surface. We took him up on his offer. Back at the Tower, we learned a few things: The Speaker can't read the Tower's script, but he speaks it very well; he helped Kleio with her grammar and vocabulary. For future reference, we took copious notes on the script. The purple glass on the River of the Gods had “always been there”. Our quick healing didn't result from the skills of our hosts. Alas, it was the result of the fact that time flows MUCH more quickly Under The River than above it. Judging from the Taksslee tale of the were-boar first showing up ten “darknesses” ago, while the officer had taken the Mask maybe a day ago up on the surface, we were probably dealing with a ten-fold difference between the two clocks! There were a lot of similarities between the Control Room and the Tower regarding the set-up of their apparatus and the lighting schemes among the controls. The Speaker pointed at one flashing blue light and mentioned that as far as he knew, that was a warning indicator – and a serious one, at that. It was well beyond his capability; he asked if we could come back and help fix it. Despite having no clue, but being confident and brash, I volunteered to do so, once we finished with our current mission. I then asked how I could return to the Land Under The River and The Speaker noted Lucky's and my pendants from our victories in the talent portion of the Contest and said that those, plus the regalia from the Hekalu la Miungu ya Dunia, would allow us to slip back down merely by touching the water (which explained how we got there in the first place!). Questions asked and answers received, The Speaker then closed his eyes, concentrated and – voila! - we were back on the banks of the river! We made our way back to the truck in time to catch two messages. The first was that”The Expert” had just been told that the Mask was lost. The Expert was furious and he ordered the soldiers to report back to... Doctor Milton! The other – accompanied by the sputtering engine-noise we'd heard before, yet this time was sustained and not staggering to a stop – announced the victorious (and too late) operation of the DAT-3! We looked towards the source of the noise and saw a gyrocopter-like thing, with two top propellers, rising fitfully above the trees. It did not come our way, so we got into the truck and headed back to the M'nguli village. When we returned, we received confirmation on the differences in time passing between the two places – Uncle was concerned that we'd gotten back so soon after we'd left! To him and the M'nguli, it was only a few hours since we'd left. Our explanation intrigued Uncle Horace – and now WE had a story that he could not match! We returned the regalia to the temple, rested up and participated in the last day of The Contest, but none of us won, nor were any of us chosen by the victors (just as well – we were not practical choices, after all). The day after, we all went back to the boats to re-equip them and to resume our quest. The villagers, deeply appreciative of what we'd done, made solemn oaths to help us whenever necessary. We thanked them for their hospitality and their friendship. Then, once again, we took to the broad Congo River, in pursuit of Dr. Milton!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalMarch 1, 1931: Middle Congo River
An Interlude featuring Hard Questions. Maddy — <after screwing up her courage> Uncle, is Dr. Milton your son by birth, or is he your son by choice - just as we are your nieces and nephews by choice? Uncle Horace — <angry eyes> Dr. Milton is no kin to me. He just resides in the body of my beloved son, Horace Jr. Maddy — <shudders at the unfamiliar emotion in Uncle Horace's eyes, but plows on> The takeover happened that time you were away, then. What was Dr. Milton like before? Did he have a scientific specialty? Uncle Horace — HORACE was a sweet, wonderful boy, with an amazingly curious scientific mind, and a keen sense of adventure. And I was proud of everything he accomplished! Maddy — <nods> Uncle Horace — But the only way we are going to stop Dr. Milton is by killing my boy... Maddy — There's no way we can get Dr. Milton out? Uncle Horace — None I am aware of, and I have been looking for years... Maddy — I'm guessing that you have no idea how he got in, then. Uncle Horace — <stares off into the distance, his face grim with bad memories> Maddy — <suddenly angry at herself>DARN! We should have searched Saqqaf's daughter's room more thoroughly! Maybe some use of Psi-Wave technology could help! <voice turning colder>Of course, if we'd known that it was possession instead of a "good-boy-gone-bad", we might have thought to look for something like that... <sternly> I hope you understand that we are all beyond being protected by ignorance; whenever you learn something or remember something, you will tell us IMMEDIATELY! We need data. And there is little enough specifically about Dr. Milton in the stories we've heard over the - unless Milton was actually behind them all - which is, in itself, information we need to know. Thea — How did you meet Dr Milton anyhow, Uncle or was the first when you discovered the problem with cousin Horace? <suddenly remembers: Horace MILTON Nutter,Jr. Eyes grow wide in realization.> It can wait if you aren't ready, Uncle but you do need to eat! Maddy — <resigned to the situation> I understand, Uncle. But, just so YOU understand, I'm steeling myself to break your heart. Maddy — <hurriedly changing the subject> By the way - the '05 Lafite Rothschild I laid down in the cellar before we left? That I was saving for "a special occasion"? That's my "Still Alive In '45" bottle. If I'm still alive on my 40th birthday, I intend to open it and share it with you. If I'm not, give me a year after I'm declared dead before you open it and share among yourselves. It took me about 3 months to crawl out of my grave the last time; it could take me longer the next. Thea — I say five years then, hate for you to miss out and all Maddy – <laughs> (Later that evening, Thea explains the situation to a mortified Maddy) Maddy – I think I understand how we got the idea of mind control. But I think Uncle is just separating his feelings for Horace, Jr. before his transformation from those for Dr. Milton after. I didn't pay close attention to my psychiatrist's jargon, but I think there's some term for what Uncle is doing. <chuckles> Thea — Disassociation? <Wry smile> I know that one well, but he respected our need to process, I intend to extend the same courtesy. Maddy — <nods> Yeah. You're right. But, unfortunately, that means that there isn't gonna be a last-minute reprieve. <takes her pistol out of its holster to clean it> <industrious equipment maintenance ensues. Then Maddy frowns and looks up> Maddy — Where were your parents, Thea, when you last heard from them? Thea — Lost doing missionary work in this part of the world. Maddy — Could we spare some time for a search? Besides - could be clues! Or - even better - we could find them alive! Thea — Possible! Don't know we have time for a search but finding answers would be nice. Maddy — Well, if we don't get the answers at Dr. Milton's, I have to come back here anyway. I could include a search for them as part of my itinerary. Thea — <warm smile> Thank you. I don't want to lose you again, do be careful To quote GUH "You're my favorite." Maddy — <laughs, then returns the smile> Funny - I was going to say the same thing! I'll keep you posted, but we both know that the mail service gets pretty spotty out here! Thea — I am sure! Just glad you made it home! Maddy — Y'know..., if, after all this, you're still feeling adventurous, come along! From everything he's saying, there won't a crowbar big enough to dig Lucky out of New York, and Doc and Kleio both have jobs they're likely to get back to. But I'm still going on. Thea — Y'know that sounds like fun. I feel the most stable I have in years. Should oughta get out of the house more! Maddy — Great! It's nice to see you getting back to the active, adventurous person you were before the war! Heh. Instead of me being the Annoying Little Cousin who tried to tag along, I should be a little more useful nowadays grins Thea — You were never that. Even then you were helpful, taught me knots that saved my life. Maddy — <embarrassed >Well, you helped me with my shooting, so we're even there! Thea — <Grin> So, where is on your next itinerary for fun visit? Maddy — <laughs> After everything I have to do here, I was thinking that I owe the Amazon another swing! <thinks> Though I may go to South Africa first. The guy who did most of the leading us out of the jungle - Jimmy Mbele - made it back home just before we left. I'd probably like to look him up, see how he's doing. May have to go back home, though, before we go to Brazil. Maybe see if I can't swing a proper expedition through Columbia. <chuckles evilly> Maybe offer to find those Inca settlements Pollard thought were on the east side of the Andes. Thea — <laughs> Couldn't find his way out of a paper bag? I bet we could find some fun! Maddy — I'd like to think that all those people didn't die for a crackpot theory! <getting earnest> The thing is, Pollard had encoded his notes and his maps - when he went down with that first fever, none of us could figure out where he was going or what he was going for! Not even Jennings knew what was going on. Thea — Fair enough, I don't think they would appreciate dying for a stunt. Maddy — I mean, there's some legitimate fear of getting a discovery poached. But there's usually TWO people who know what's what on an expedition. <snorts> Not that Jennings would have inspired much confidence as the Number Two... Thea — From the little I read, Basil would be better. Maddy — <laughs> Yeah! At least, Basil'd figure out how to survive in a jungle! Thea — So, let's set up a plan for where we want to go! Maddy — Hmmm. Well, first, we should head back this way to see if we can get a lead on your father. Thea — If we don't get an answer beforehand... Maddy — <nods> It would be best if we can get that resolved now. There's a chance for a happy ending. And if not, hopefully we can get some clues as to what Milton is up to! Thea — That would be the ideal., He and mum went out of contact going on two years now.
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's Journal Two pages have been ripped from the journal
Part 10 Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 March 30, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo We came upon the uninspiring outskirts of the last great river port of the Congo, Stanleyville. Uncle Horace's confession still echoed through our thoughts. Yes – you heard me right – Uncle had a confession! BEFORE we confronted the issue! At last, it seems my nagging finally borne fruit! The confession was, in its own way, not very surprising – Uncle admitted that he was now truly working blind. He had never been in this part of the world before, so he didn't know the territory and he hadn't been able to establish his usual web of contacts. But – this was the setting for the Adventure of the Unkindest Cut! Yes, it was. But Uncle Horace pointed out that the story involved “Horace”, not, as he liked to style himself whenever he was recounting his tales of his derring-do, “Uncle Horace”. This story featured his son, Horace, Jr., before he became “Dr. Milton”. Anyway, the “Jonathan” refered to in the story – the man who both sponsored the traitor's inclusion into the party and who was his first victim when he showed his true colors – was Jonathan Raines. He was survived by a twin sister, Joanna. Joanna became obsessed by the villain, a Frenchman named Simon Travers who had been a shadowy figure in Jonathan's shady past. Though Travers managed to deliver the item that had been at the center of the adventure to the Louvre (where, so far as is known, it still resides), Joanna's dogged chase drove Travers away from Europe. Joanna pursued him from city to city, continent to continent. Though she was sure that he did not know who pursued him, he still led a merry chase. She finally caught up to him in Singapore long enough to get him arrested by the local constabulary. Unfortunately, Travers affected an escape (with outside help? - Milton?) and, once more she had to go into pursuit! Now, she has run Travers to ground once again, here in Stanleyville. In order to finally hook her fish, she had set up shop in that city as an information broker – her long hunt-and-chase having honed some impressive information-gathering skills. Uncle Horace had contacted her, and, in exchange for her help with Dr. Milton, we would help her with Travers. In response, she had invited us to meet her at her shop – a curio shop called Mvua wa Kupendeza (“Lovely Rain”), situated on the north side of the city. Stanleyville is, itself, decidedly unimpressive. It sits on both sides of a still-wide Congo, with the better part of the city (and of the white inhabitants) lying on the south bank. The north bank.... Nala claimed that we would “never find a more calamitous enclave of riff-raff and depravity. The only reason I am here at all is because of your Uncle!” That inspiring description, accompanied by the view of a mud-laden riot of buildings and the touch of the tap-dancing stomach that had followed his meal last night led Lucky to declare that he was “On Strike” for now and would complete his recovery with the boats. Nala and her crews were also staying with the boats, as was Doc (tending to one of the boatmen who had injured himself early that morning). Unfortunately, the meeting needed Uncle Horace's presence, so he and Basil were coming along with Thea, Kleio and I. Given our previous experiences, we understood that we were not going to cut an impressive figure, so I brought the Thompson along crisscrossed upon my back with my saber. We came ashore at the Northbank docks with Nala's... cheery... “It's not safe! Try not to cross anyone!” ringing in our ears. Uncle Horace quickly oriented himself and led us into the warren of the city. We quickly picked up an overly curious shadow, and we prepared for the inevitable. Inevitably, it happened on the first sparsely-traveled side street Uncle led us down. Suddenly, six young men, smiling, came forward. They spoke in Swahili and Kleio, being the only one who could understand it, stepped up to respond (later, she said that they had offered “to guide us!”). Kleio responded by drawing her blade and striking the leader. I was a little surprised by the abruptness – I thought that I was supposed to be the hot-head. But, we've been through a lot during all this, and I think we're all getting short-tempered. It suited me fine. In most of the previous fights, I started out with a lesser weapon, going for stealth or trying to keep a fight at a particular level. Well, all that had gotten me was a few more scars on my body. This was no party, this was no jazz club, and I was no longer fooling around! I pulled up the Thompson and sent a short burst into a pair of our “guides”. One died, the other was badly wounded. Everybody else closed in on each other (our assailants decided that they wanted nothing to do with the Little Girl With The Machine Gun). Even Basil got involved! Back in Matadi, Basil showed that he wasn't a tracker. Here, he showed that he wasn't much of a fighter, either. He gamely jumped on one of our assailants, and he made a great show of screeching and pulling at their hair. But, as The Bard put it, “It was all sound and fury, signifying nothing!” Basil merely irritated his opponent, who responded with cutting Basil with a knife. The chimpanzee, having satisfied the demands of honor, leaped up onto a lamppost. His erstwhile foe made the mistake of concentrating on the retreating chimp instead of the angry woman with a tommygun. I promptly put a short burst into him, bringing him down and rescuing Basil. Uncle Horace' and his foe were in close combat, having exchanged cuts, so I drew my saber and cut the attacker down. At this point, with half their number out, the remainder turned and fled. We bandaged up Basil and Uncle Horace, then continued on our way. Finally, we turned onto a street lined with poor, ramshackle shops. Uncle Horace led us carefully down the right side of the street – and fortunately so, because Miss Raines' shop resolutely refused to advertise itself. Even with the information Uncle had, we nearly walked right by it. We entered to a room containing cheap and shoddy curios and gewgaws. The establishment couldn't have screamed “Front!” any louder if it had a megaphone. Unfortunately, curios and gewgaws were the only things occupying the interior; the lack of Joanna greatly concerned Uncle. So we took it upon ourselves to go into the backroom. It lead to a long corridor that ran across the back of the other stores of the block, to a bashed-open door. The main room of the apartment beyond showed signs of a furious and bloody struggle, and Miss Raines was gone. Seeing a second door – this one, unmarked by violence – we opened it and saw a bedroom that had been ignored by Miss Raines' assailants. An intense investigation led us to find the results of her efforts at information-gathering. Those efforts were formidable, indeed! Files, referenced by date and by subject, meticulously kept! We quickly came across our file! We could follow our progress up the Congo not just from Uncle's communications with her, but in notes, letters and telegrams from others! When we were done, we knew that we were in possession of her last six months of intelligence! That this hoard of gold lay untouched, unlooked-for by whatever thugs waylaid Miss Raines not one room away makes me think that this could not have been done at the direct bidding of Dr. Milton. If he had struck at her, he would have known whom he was striking! And I credit him with the wit to want to secure the fruits of the labor along with the laborer. We had found general information on her activities in the bedroom, but we did not know what her most recent plans were. Nor did we have any clues as to who had taken her away. So we re-entered the main room. On the broken desk, first, we saw a notepad with its top sheet pulled off. We pulled the old “rub-the-pencil-to-get-the-negative” trick on it and we could see “Cult * involvement”. On the floor, we picked up a crumpled piece of paper. We then noticed a datebook protruding from a no-longer-secret nook. From that, we relived yet again, the highlights of our African tour (though not any details of our detour beneath the River of the Gods), then an entry for “Katlego B.”* and a meeting with him on yesterday morning. The name struck a chord with us, and a quick review of Joanna's records showed us that Joanna was very well-acquainted with the gentleman. Well, “gentleman” was not a commonly-used word in conjunction with “Katlego”. Actually, the usual descriptor associated with the name was the French term... “putain'. Uncle Horace assures me that the word is extremely rude, and so you may find no further use of that word in this journal. Indeed – Joanna may share my reluctance to use rough language as the references to Katlego are about the only places where rough language is found in her files. Which, I suppose, goes to show how abysmally she rated his character. As to his profession, he was a notorious “fixer”, or middleman; he made a great deal of money on his connections. The crumpled paper contained a rather excellently-drawn picture of a spider, with a large asterisk beneath it. Kleio linked the asterisk with that on the notepad, and then to some references we'd seen in Joanna's notes. Another dive into her pool of intelligence found the Cult of the Spider – a local cult that had been brought to America by adherents who had been caught up in the slavers' nets to work the plantations of the South. The tribe that originated the cult, the Shonanci, claimed descent from the African spider-god. However, they were said to have been eradicated and their rich capital, never found. We tried to follow the sparse blood trail, but it petered out near the back door. We met a man going out - Moti Arrensi, the leader of a local gang that included those men who had accosted us earlier. We tensed for a resumption of the fight, but Moti quickly denied any interest for revenge. His gang was small – the loss of three members was a serious slow. Moti explained that he was already constantly getting squeezed by a couple of neighboring large gangs and he needed something to push back with. If, he thought, the New Girls In Town could show that we were letting bygones be bygones and made a public display of friendship with Moti, Moti would help us out. We really didn't have much of a choice – especially given the price asked. We knew no-one here, and we needed help in finding out what happened. So, we promised our friendship display and Moti got to work. Unfortunately, what work he did was of limited use. No-one saw or heard what went on in the apartment (though I think the nature of the apartment's set-up played a role here). In the matter of Katlego, though, he was more useful, as he determined that Katlego “was in a mood to meet with people”. So, we decided to become people that he should meet. Along the way, Moti corroborated Joanna's low opinion of the middleman. People hated him – he claimed sole access to the truly powerful men that ran things here; all had to work through him. And, especially, he wasn't the kind of crook who stayed bought. Each transaction was a stepping-stone to the next. If you paid him to do “X”, he'd go to someone else to see if he could get more to do “not-X”. Or to let him know who was doing “X”. He had no qualms about skimming off the top, the middle and the dregs. This applied to any gear you had that might catch his eye, either. He'd sit in a cafe or on a porch with his three massive goons, holding audience with his supplicants, supplicants with nowhere else to go. Well, we had nowhere else to go, so we went. Moti led us to a miserable cafe with a terrace and, there he was. Though he only had the one goon, and both the fixer and the goon were looking around nervously. Their eyes alit on us with interest, but it seemed that we were not the looked-for. Hoping that his discomfiture might lead to an advantage for us, we presented ourselves before His Highness. For once, the Nutter Effect played us bad. Though Uncle had never been here personally, his reputation preceded him. Alas, it was his reputation as a Rich White Man that was at the forefront, and negotiations began on what we would need to convince him to help us. I REALLY wished Lucky was here; I think his negotiation skills are much better than mine. While I think I did a creditable job, Uncle's bank account got noticeably smaller by the end of our discussion. Once the transaction was finalized, our “host” immediately and forcefully denied our accusation of his carrying off Miss Raines. Though his rude characterization of Joanna showed that their animosity was mutual, he maintained he'd had nothing to do with her kidnapping (not that he hoped that she would come out of it alive). I am reluctantly inclined to accept his word. I am sure he knows what occupation she has, and I would think that if it had been him directing the attack, he would have made sure that care would be taken to find out if she had any of her information near at hand. Besides, he posited a suspect. A large black man, darker than even most of the natives, big, with heavily tattooed arms had come to him. He flashed a ring – a ring made of an a mixture of silver and gold that sounded suspiciously like that of the Tower Under the River. The discussion was a little cryptic – Katlego maintained that he (Katlego) didn't know something, and that the Black Man could tell if Katlego was lying – so Katlego wasn't lying. At the start, this Black Man simply mumbled something brief to two of Katlego's goons and they crumpled like shoddy chairs. The Black Man instructed Katlego to send word for Una Mendalla at the soothsayer's in the market. we turned away. As we did so, we noticed Uncle Horace's look of frightened terror pass across his face! We'd seen him worried before. But never had it been mixed with such fear! “I need to show you something!” he exclaimed, and he led us back to the Lovely Rains. Back in the apartment, Uncle Horace explained that he was finally going to show us the Coin Trick. Something told us that this was not an attempt to skirt the issue, so we assented. He had Thea go to the furthest corner of the room, while, with Kleio and I, he began the old familiar patter that accompanied the trick – the “Gather 'round! Move up close! Keep a close eye!”, etc. There was nothing in his hands, he went through the spiel and, TA-DAAAA! He produced a coin from behind Kleio's ear. But first, instead of swiftly pocketing the item as he always did, he kept it out for us to see. And, while it was a coin, the metal it was made of was odd – a kind of blend of silver and gold... JUST LIKE THAT OF THE TOWER! I was shocked! Closer look also showed that, while it was about the size of a quarter, it wasn't perfectly round like modern coins are; it had the rougher shape like ancient, hand-stamped coins have. Yet the engraving on the front of it was unlike any I've ever seen! We turned to exclaim our wonderment to Thea, but the look on her face showed, if possible, even more confoundment. Uncle then said, “Now, you two – off to that corner, while I show Thea the Coin Trick!” We exchanged places and, again, Uncle began the routine. But, just as he reached the trick's climactic surprise, he spoke a word that we had never remembered him speaking before! A word terribly unfamiliar in its sound, yet my mind immediately, instinctively translated it as “Forget!” And we watched with horror and fascination as Thea sat transfixed before Uncle, not noticing him visibly pausing in mid-trick, counting off the time until he reached in his vest pocket, withdrew the coin, then finished the trick! You could have knocked us over with a feather! What we had seen was the results of using an ancient language – a tongue that presaged nearly all others, a tongue that, if spoken correctly, could compel anyone to do anything. This tongue had been used by the Black Man to cause Katlego's goons to sleep. It had been used by Uncle Horace to amuse us (and him) – and probably wring that confession out of Breckenridge back in New York! A cold shudder ran through me. To be at the mercy of such a speaker.... There are three mitigating factors to this terror. First, the language is so demanding and precise that, even if you KNOW the words, that doesn't mean you can SAY the words correctly enough to produce the desired effects. Unless, of course, you were very practiced in the tongue. Even learning it, you need to have the highest linguistic skills – like Uncle. Or Kleio. Uncle, while he had been giving us individual words of this tongue as he was telling us his stories all these years, felt that only Kleio would have the skill required to begin learning it. The second limit is that those of especially strong mind have a chance to resisting the effect The third limit was that you had to be within ten feet of the speaker to be affected. Beyond that, I suppose, the attenuation of the tone or something weakens it enough to be ineffective. Even though we were at the edge of its effect, it still tugged at my mind! And we're going to have to face a man proficient in the tongue!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 11
Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 Afternoon, March 30, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo At this time, Lucky carefully eased in. He'd been bored on the boat, so he landed and followed us by the simple expedient of asking about “three white women, an old white man and a chimpanzee in a diaper”. Amazing how his inquiries led him straight to us! We recounted our recent adventures and Uncle Horace went through the demonstration again and got the requisite astounded reaction. Uncle then told us a story. A story he'd never told us before: The Adventure of the Man with the Heart of Pitch, which was a follow-up to The Adventure of the Unkindest Cut and described The Black Man as the titular character. The story over, we now had to decide on our next move. After bouncing a couple of ideas around, we decided that disguising ourselves and staking out the market near the soothsayer's was our best option. We managed our disguises well enough that we didn't stick out like sore thumbs, unlike our usual modus operandi. The rest of the afternoon passed without event. Everyone was packing up to go at the end of day, including our soothsayer. The soothsayer then passed down an alley and – suddenly! - a huge figure seemed to detach himself from the shadows to accompany her! The Man with the Heart of Pitch? (Whom I will refer to as “Pitchheart” henceforth.) We decided that Lucky would shadow the pair while we followed Lucky at a distance. Our quarry led us through the city for about an hour, until we reached an industrial area. They entered a mine in the middle of the complex. We paused at the entrance while I sneaked over to the mine office, a shack near the front gate. The office was empty of people; it looked like it was not currently in use. I grabbed some papers plus an excellent map of the mine complex, then brought my finds over to the rest. Kleio quickly translated my finds; the mine had been shut down about 6 months ago, though the sounds of machinery coming from deep down the shaft seemed to argue for a recent reopening, at the least. The map showed that there was a back entrance that accessed a lower level – level 5. While I was interested in using that, everyone else thought that the time needed to get to it weighed against any possible surprise we could achieve by using it, so we followed Pitchheart & Companion in through the front door. Just as we walked in, Lucky gave a greedy chuckle and he harvested some explosives some fool had left for him to find! The first level was dry, sloped down – steeply at first, then it quickly moderated. Short side tunnels branched out on either wall. We got to the elevator, then checked the space beyond, then went back to the elevator. No Pitchheart. We took the elevator down, pressing the lower of the two buttons, When we left the cage, Lucky took out a small, yet crucial piece – to keep anyone who somehow got around us from sneaking out and leaving us at the mercy of whatever peril they deemed fit to put us in. Well – at least they'd end up sharing that peril. The second level was shorter and more even, but just as dry and just as studded with side shafts. As the mine map implied, the elevator leading down had three buttons. We pressed the middle button, which brought us to (surprise!) the third level. That level was similar in all ways to the second, and we reentered the elevator to finish our descent. At the bottom of this shaft, I believe that Lucky repeated his little act of sabotage. While there were side tunnels like in the levels above, the fourth level otherwise was a very different environment. First, it featured a steep slope up. Second, we finally hit some water – it was wet enough to require drainage ditches. Finally, the noise of the machinery was no longer a part of the background; it was beginning to intrude on our attention. We got to the elevator on this level and took it. As we descended, we saw drain pipes emptying their contents down the shaft alongside us. The fifth level was a very different set-up. The noise of the machinery was beginning to get unbearable here. The floor, though flat, was very mucky. It was also more of a tunnel – none of the side passages on the upper levels were present here. According to the map, it led to the “back door”. The elevator here was newer, bigger – and had FOUR buttons! According to the map, there were only the fifth, sixth and seventh levels left – was there an undocumented eighth? We immediately punched the bottom-most button to find out! Well, the level was undocumented..., but it was between levels 5 and 6 and it contained the machinery that powered the elevator and the lights and the pumps. We were glad to be going away from the painful clamor as we continued our descent – past level six and stopping at the seventh. Here, we got out at the top of a steep slope. Nearby were a couple of doors, with the legend “Emergency Cutoff Room” emblazoned upon them. Looking down the slope, I had a tickle of temptation. The last few months before we left (and on those rare occasions where an appropriate surface presented itself), I'd been practicing sliding down such a slope on my feet. WhenI'd trip or lose my balance, I tried to turn it into a shoulder-roll-into-a-tumbling run, finishing at the bottom with a dismount. I haven't stuck the landing yet – but it's only a matter of time! Maybe this time?
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 12
Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 Early Evening, March 30, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo No. The slope is about twenty yards in length and about 45-degree angle. We descend to the bottom, using the thick rope fitted with handholds running down the middle of the corridor. There, the passageway has an opening with a steel blast door, which is currently open. Turns out, this is a saltpetre mine, and it seems that this portal is used to contain the effects of any explosions (planned or not) in the current working tunnels. The pumps were really needed down here. The air was cool and humid and the stonework in the corridor glistened. The drain channels gathered a constant stream of water from off the walls and from under the floor. It poured into pipes which gurgled to the constant “thump-thump” of the electrically-driven pumps. Beyond the blast door, the floor stonework ended and became firm sand. The chamber branched into short tunnels, like the fingers to a glove. At the spot of the branching, we caught the glint of metal! The metal and the thought that this would be a perfect place to stash a kidnap victim drew us in. Lucky remained at the door to make sure no one shut it and locked us in. Stepping up to the metal, we found a number of coins – similar to the one that Uncle used as his magic prop! The now-familiar swirling silver-and-gold pattern of the alien metal shone in the lights of our lamps. The marvellously-executed engraving showed great skill. Right then, Lucky gave out a cry and rushed into the tunnel with us. This was accompanied by the blast door slamming shut and the locking wheel being turned. Peeking out the thick glass of the small porthole, we saw a small man wearing a mask much like the M'nguli's boar mask, but a more alien – or insect-like – design. With the door, the mask and everything, it took us a couple of moments before we made out what he was yelling at us: he accused us of taking his “m'kufu m'takaifu” - his sacred necklace. Just like the necklaces that Lucky and I had been given by the M'nguli! Lucky prepared a charge to try to blow the porthole out, but, as we should have expected, it failed. All the while, the figure beyond the door continued to blame us for stealing the necklace and other ritual items he had – and it slowly dawned on us that this small figure was the otherwise-described as big and imposing Pitchheart! He did something and all of a sudden, one of the drains stopped draining and the water began to back up. Pitchheart repeated his threats and his demands for his items. Kleio managed to bring a brief halt to the harangue by confounding him. The rest of us gripped the wheel and tried to unstick the door. While we were occupied, Lucky noticed that our captor was suddenly shot from behind! Then six men – one white and five Africans – came down the slope and attacked him. Pitchheart said something and two of the attackers started scrambling back up. But the others set upon him. Pitchheart fought like a tiger, but the others overwhemed him, beating him like a drum until he crumpled. The white man ripped the mask off; and the group looked like they were planning on leaving, abandoning us to our fate! Fortunately, we got the door open then and we burst into action. I opened up with the Thompson, wounding both the lieutenant and one of the men. The lieutenant tossed the mask up to one of the men who had fled, then drew his pistol. Lucky took on the men who were still near the supine form of Pitchheart; Thea and Kleio pursued the climbers. Just as they caught up to them, the one who had fielded the mask tossed it further up, to a figure at the top of the incline. The girls couldn't get past the two climbers, who now worked to delay pursuit. All while Lucky and I continued dancing with our partners. It wasn't long before we heard the sound of the elevator going up. It seemed to concern our foes but a little. But the slow winding down of the machinery that happened next concerned them a lot! As the lights slowly faded and the sounds of the pumps receded – and the water started rising! - our opponents looked up, stricken with betrayal. They immediately surrendered. “We'll make a deal,” I said. “I get us out, you tell us what we want to know!” They agreed, so, after I checked the other tunnels to make sure we weren't leaving anyone behind, I got my climbing rope out, went up the elevator shaft and climbed it. I fixed the rope to the bottom of lift and helped everyone up, Lucky bringing up Pitchheart. Once we were up, our erstwhile foes – Denis, the white lieutenant, and the native foot soldiers Pruden, Chihwala, Annick, Yawonday and Andre – kept up their end. Katlego was their leader; he'd been lying to us all along (shocked! Shocked! I'm sure it was a blow to Lucky, too...). Katlego had been hired by Simon Travers who seemed to be working with Dr. Milton! Joanna was, indeed, Katlego's captive and was imprisoned in his house/business (that we had visited earlier). Then and there, we decided to hire them on; if for no other reason than to possibly keep them off the field of any future battles. We settled on $200 each – a hefty sum in these days at this place. I suspect Lucky doubts the durability of their loyalty; he's probably right to do so. With the riff-raff dealt with, it was now time to get back to The Lovely Rain. We swiftly returned to the shop, and found (surpise[?]) no Uncle Horace. The apartment was more thoroughly busted up than before! The only solace we could take was that there were no additional bloodstains. If he had been taken, Unc went peacefully. We went outside to consider our next move, when we noticed the antics of a diaper-wearing chimpanzee on a nearby rooftop – Basil! He had not shown talents in tracking or fighting, but he was a crackerjack guide. He had to take us high and low through some of the worst neighborhoods in the city. We finally reached a ramshackle hut and – voila! - Uncle Horace! He told us that he'd seenTravers near Joanna's store and he got Moti to guide him to safety. With that, it was time to iron things out with Pitchheart. That we were on the other side of the closed door when he was assaulted and robbed of his mask no doubt helped change his attitude. That we jumped in to help him in the fight once freed probably helped more. But I'm sure that the fact that we carried him out of a death trap was the clincher. He became downright talkative. He is Unamandala (“Powerful”), the mask-bearer of the Tribe of the Ant. Ant excells in gathering information. What we'd thought was references to a Spider Cult, were actually references to the Ant. The mask allowed him to disguise himself as a man bigger, broader, and with a different face. His necklace, also purloined, would allow him to move unseen. And his ring was the Ring of Truth. He explained that among the various guardian tribes of Africa, there should be 9 masks, each of a different animal, each with a different focus. Unamandala was aware of only 3 masks around. Unamandala had also played a small part in our family history when he was younger. He was one of those who had pursued Young Horace Nutter's party during the Adventure of the Unkindest Cut. Because the item that the traitor and murderer, Simon Travers, had taken was one of the masks of power! So, if we were willing to overlook that little faux pas, he was more than willing to make common cause with us. We forgave the sin.
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 13
Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 8:00pm, March 30, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo It was now time to return to Katlego's cafe and affect our rescues of woman and mask. Our new hirelings provided us with a good map of the building; we left them to guard Uncle Horace. Despite my wishes, the setting wasn't right for a completely clandestine entry. We settled for going in through the back alley. The disgusting back alley. The door opened into the kitchen, abuzz with activity. So much so, the cooks and servers pretty much ignored us as we entered. We saw the exit to another part of the back, a couple of entries to the main rooms – and then the door to the stairs. Moving towards it caught the help's attention, but we easily convinced them that we had an appointment, so they let us go. Then we opened the door. Looking up the staircase, we saw a couple of men who'd been with Katlego the last time we' were here. They noticed us and one of them looked like he was drawing a weapon. I bolted up the stairs and reaching the weapon-drawer, drew my saber and sliced him – a little. Thea and the others came up and a melee ensued in the upper room. We were giving better than we were getting when Simon Travers poked his head out from the door in the back to see what the commotion was, I guess. I charged him, but he ducked back, slamming the door shut behind him. When I pulled the door back open, I saw quite the scene before me! It was an office. A large desk with a number of masks and other items on it; Travers had picked one up and was putting it on. I spared a moment to note that Joanna Raines was tied to a chair to the side, near the splayed body of Katlego. I think that pause to take in the rest of the scene was a mistake. I struck at Travers when I turned my focus back onto him, but the mask was on soon enough and he was somehow prepared enough so that his transformation into a rhinoceros (!) was complete before my blade could cut his skin. Instead, I merely creased him. His eyes narrowed and he charged me. Fortunately, the locals don't build upper floors capable of supporting the weight of rhinoceroses, so the floor underneath the were-rhino splintered and collapsed, dropping him to the main floor below! There were screams and crashing and the building shuddered as he plowed through a couple of support pillars, unable to stop the charge he'd started above. I sheathed my sword and swung the Thompson into the “ready” position – no need for discretion now! I then bounced down the hole to confront Travers and maybe keep him from crushing some of the locals. The rest followed quickly behind as the rhino turned to confront me. I emptied a clip on him, but to little effect. He barrelled into me with GREAT effect! As I staggered, woozy, Lucky and Thea opened fire, while Kleio jumped up onto the rhino and started to work the mask off. I recovered from my encouter with the freight train in time to watch it run over Lucky! Bad luck is luck, too, as Lucky went past “stunned” and dropped to the floor, and he did not look good at all! Thea was still firing and Kleio was slowly working the mask off. I figured tending to Lucky rather than reloading was the thing to do, so I rushed over to stabilize him.At that moment, Kleio managed to pull the mask off Travers. His artifical empowerment ended, he went down immediately. Now for the denoument. Clambering past the wreckage and getting back to the office, we came in just as Una Mandala finished untying Joanna Raines. He then went to the desk and grabbed his mask and his amulet from the assortment of nine such pairings. As extensive as this collection was, however, he told us that there were many, many more – possibly up to a hundred! And all of these items were tagged to go to Dr. Milton! Joanna took up her tale from here. She was anxious to catalogue them, so she attracted attention by claiming she'd set up a meeting with Mandala (not knowing that Mandala was actually in the area – a rare mistake, judging from the files of hers we'd already seen). This got her kidnapped and brought to Travers' office, where she could see the masks herself. What was her escape plan? Well, she knew we were coming, so she figured we'd rescue her! She left behind clues hidden in her home, then clues to the whereabouts of those clues hidden in plain sight in her living room. Unfortunately, we never got those clues because the thorough ransacking of that living room destroyed them! Still, we eventually got to where she needed us to be, so all's well that ends well! We then gathered up all the items Travers had looted and retreated back to Joanna's shop. Mandala identified the other masks and who was supposed to be guarding them. We noticed that all of the associated amulets were like Lucky's and mine awards from the M'nguli. All of them but Madala's. His was of refined gods' metal, fashioned into a loop. He decided that he would make sure the regalia were returned to their rightful places. He then apologized for his behavior and thanked us for helping. For our side (or mine, at least), for someone who was first presented as a dire villain, he turned into a sympathetic comrade. By the end, I asked that if he could, travel to the River of the Gods and go to the Tower in the Land Under The River. If he could fix it – fine. At the least, if he could read the markings and diagram and interpret them, I would be grateful. He said that he'd see what he could do. Finally, we got down to the business that had brought us to Stanleyville in the first place: find Dr. Milton. Joanna consulted her archives and Mandala added his own observations and eventually, we came upon a map that was likely to lead us where we needed to go – the Temple of the Great Anaconda! Heh. Looks like an anaconda may get a second crack at me!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalJournal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 7:00pm, April 2, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo An Interlude: Uncle Horace has once again taken up his more reticent ways. I'm not sure if he's doing further research on the Temple or mulling over the looming prospect of facing Dr. Milton. It can't be easy – especially for someone with such a great heart as Uncle Horace! Now, he's faced with the prospect of having to contend against his own son – even to the death! Or – maybe worse – watch him get killed! I'm steeling myself in case it is I who have to do it. My early confidence in my willingness to pull the trigger has not waned. Not just because Dr. Milton engineered my parents' deaths – and the deaths of all those near and dear to Uncle Horace. Because he has been a global menace before, and he stands to be at the center of some horrible, nefarious plot. Probably involving the collection of native power-masks he's been amassing. Could it involve the forces we saw at work on that German freighter and Italian cruiser as we were first crossing the Atlantic? I shudder to think.... Well – bringing that up caused me to review the early pages of this journal. And, I confess I enjoyed the distraction that re-reading it provided. I had to chuckle at my musings from Christmas – not four months ago! I was concerned about finding where I fit in. By now, I know! Bella, Doc Lucy, Kleio, Lucky, Thea and I started out with Uncle Horace on our trip of vengeance. Bella was around when we landed in Africa, but since has been off on her own quests. I don't know what her plans are. She is the cousin I've least associated with over the years, so I really don't understand what makes her tick. But vengeance is not for everyone, so I can't pass judgment. I wish her the best. Doc has been active with us for most of the trip. But the further up the Congo we've gone, the more medical hardships she's seen, the more she has devoted her time to relieving them. Again – I cannot question her decision. Frankly, with all the mayhem that has followed us, Doc may leave behind the most appreciated legacy of us all – a legacy of healing. Kleio has been invaluable for her knowledge and her linguistic ability. She has also shown herself still game for a scrap – I guess museum staff politics aren't so different from the daily Nutter rough-and-tumble! She and Doc had been of the older cohort of cousins, a cohort that tended toward the cerebral. They were at the adult table sooner than Thea and Jack and Lucky and I. Now that I've had the privilege to work so closely with them, I couldn't have asked for better companions! Lucky is risking his dream to study at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts to pursue vengeance. His skills, especially in negotiations and with explosives, have played crucial roles in our adventures. And one of the most memorable moments so far was watching him put together, then perform, his skit of our encounter with the Mungu wa Kipopu wa Mto. It was funny and dramatic in turns, and he performed it masterfully. It was an instant hit among the M'nguli – and with us, as well. He deserves to be back in New York, honing his craft. Whatever I can do to make that happen, I will do. I can't imagine what is going through Uncle Horace's mind right now! His son would be bad enough, but... we try to have him sitting on the sidelines, not swinging through the middle of the story as he used to. That has to be hard, though he seems to be handling it well. He has formed our strategy. He has approved our work so far. The Nutter Effect has been indispensable. But Uncle keeps his secrets, and his true feelings on all this may be one. So – finally – Thea! I've mentioned numerous times how our adventure has brought her out of her shell-shock and closer to the vital, daring person she had been growing up. But it's taken this trek for me to realize how much I'd taken my upbringing for granted. Once I showed Thea that I could keep up, she let me in on her hi-jinks while we were together. Just as Uncle Horace constantly encouraged us to do our best at whatever we turned to – whatever we turned to. Just as Daddy encouraged me in all the “unlady-like” things – running, jumping, tumbling – all the “dainty” stuff that helped me survive the jungle and has stood me in good stead in our trip. I've been lucky in that at key times in my life, people have encouraged me to be who I truly was. It took college, and especially Prof. Pollard, to show me not everyone had such luck. That there were a lot of people who had certain expectations and expected you to meet them. I don't know what I would be like if I didn't have all that support, but I bet I'd be miserable right now.
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalJournal of Madelyne Morgan
Vol. 3 Uncle just asked if we were packed up... it looks like we're about to continue!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 14
Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 6:00am, April 8, 1931, Stanleyville, Belgian Congo We're on our way! After much discussion – first, between Joanna and Uncle Horace; then, among us all – we decided on our route to the Temple of the Great Anaconda. The great Congo flows from south-to-north in this section, and the valley that held the building was near the river. However, there was a range of low mountains that ran between the river and valley, and Joanna and Uncle both thought that that relatively short route was more perilous than going up the valley. So, we gathered our provisions and hired our porters, and... we're off! Uncle figures that it should take us about 2 weeks to reach our destination using this route. 9:15pm, April 10, 1931, south of Stanleyville, Belgian Congo It's been a miserable couple of days. Well, for most of the party. Me – well, if you've read this far... Anyways, it is hot, muggy and buggy. The trail-clearing is going well now, but that's because we're in an area that is frequented by local traffic. But there'll come a time when we'll miss this pace. 9:00pm, April 12, 1931, south of Stanleyville, Belgian Congo I'd say that that time is now! I can barely lift pen to paper. It's been a long time since I've REALLY had to hack away at a jungle. I'm lucky I had the chance to warm up with the light work of the previous days – otherwise, they'd have had to nail my arm back onto my shoulder. I'm also lucky I'm not Lucky! He had a hard time of it today; he so does not like being here!
Re: Hollow Earth Expedition - Maddy's JournalPart 15
Journal of Madelyne Morgan, Vol. 3 About noon, April 15(?), 1931, Valley of the Snakes A lot to talk about, little time to tell it. About a day ago, we were laboring through the jungle when we were suddenly ambushed! One-by-one, we were taken down amid a fusillade of poisoned darts. We all awoke some time later locked in cages – the family in one, our porters in another. We had vague recollections of walking a long time, but we came to in a cage in a long, wide corridor that felt like it was under a stadium. Our heads throbbed and our noses were filled with this horrid reek. But even worse were the panicked cries of our porters in another cage close to the stairway leading up to the stadium proper. Once they realized we were awake, their pleas took on better definition. Our “hosts”, some kind of “snake-man”, had already dragged several of the porters out of the cage and up the stairs. The screaming would fade until it came to an abrupt end. They did not know what it portended, but since none of the porters so removed returned, odds were that it portended badly. At this point, a couple of our captors came down and... they were “snake-men”! Bipedal, snake-headed men with long, flexible fingers and flickering tongues. As they neared, the reek intensified, which didn't help with the headaches! They paused at the porters' cage and started to extract one. Despite my offers to go instead and Lucky's rather captivating performance, our jailers completed their task of removing a porter and dragging him up the stairs. And we had our chance to experience the hideous drama that the porters had to sit through several times already. With that ordeal over, we had to better assess our situation. I keep a length of hanger wire coiled in my hatband (which is why I keep my hat pinned to my head – it's not ALL vanity...), so I removed it and tried to work the lock open. Unfortunately, despite my attention to some of Lucky's lessons, the lock remained well-beyond my capabilities. So, with immediate escape off the menu, it was time to serve up some first aid. The headaches were beyond what little we had with us, though mine seemed like it was throbbing less insistently. But as I looked over our wounds, one thing became apparent – we were not riddled with pinprick wounds you'd get from darts. Instead, we had the remains of little rashes. It reminded me of tales of a cobra in India (or – was it Africa? I'm not sure.) that spits its venom! Which, if it is the case here... ick!... Uncle Horace and Kleio in the meantime thought that the snakemen communicated by tongue-flicks, so my shouting and much of Lucky's performance were pretty much wasted. This all took us up to when our jailers returned to take another porter. I took a closer look at how the snakemen opened the cage door and saw them jamming their very flexible fingers down into the keyhole. It showed me that my attempt to pick the lock was doomed to failure all along! While I was thinking that, the snakemen had gotten the door open and were trying to pull the struggling man out. Frustrated at being unable to do more, I picked up a rock and hucked it at one of the guards. I hit him(?) so well, it angered him and he made a bee-line right for my throat. We tussled a bit, but the guard's partner pulled him off me and they resumed their extraction of their next victim. Though we were unable to spare our porter from the hideous fate in store for him, some useful information did come from that incident. Our linguists had gleaned a lot of useful information from our guards. First, that they were mere flunkies. Second, that while our porters were fair game for whatever it was they were currently using our porters for, we, the Nutters, were being held for some “avatar”; messing with us put that plan in danger. Finally, Uncle revealed that he had yet another Word he could speak: “Release”! This Word, he quickly taught us. Part of its power came from not only getting the tricky pronunciation correct, but we also had to properly envision the action the Word was meant to convey. I didn't feel so confident that I could use either that Word or our previous one, “forget”. Kleio (surprise, surprise) took to the lesson rather well. With that done, we drew up our plans for our escape. When our jailers returned for another porter, we sprang into action! I hucked another rock at the one I'd already struck. Again, I hit; again he stormed my cage; again, his patrol mate tried to keep them out of trouble. But now, they were too close to two adepts of the Words, and we were swiftly out of our cage, securing our erstwhile captors, then freeing the remaining porters. Fortunately, our supplies were nearby, so we re-equipped ourselves. We had only two exits, and one led to where the snakemen were waiting for us, so, really, we had only one. The route led us deeper into the complex under the city. After a little while, we came to a 4-way junction with a raised ceiling. In the middle of the space was a giant statue of Apep, the Egyptian God of Mayhem and Chaos. As we reviewed our options, we realized that the roof of the statue chamber looked exactly like the roof of the Hekalu Ia Miungu ya Dunia back with the M'Nguli! We had no more time to wonder more at this, though. Our escape would be noticed soon, if it hadn't been already! So, with two of the exits looking like they descended further into the earth, while the passage to our right looking like it had a source of light nearby, We did not want to be caught in a warren of tunnels that we knew nothing of, while our hunters would be working familiar ground, so, right it was. Our next decision was to continue on or climb a set of stairs; we chose the stairs. Much to our relief, they led us to the interior of a building that opened up to an ancient suburb. The city looked big, And I had been looking at maps while Uncle was planning, and I remembered seeing nothing that big in this area! We didn't have the luxury to observe further; trucks were approaching! We hunkered down in our building, only to see two Italian military trucks and a staff car pull up with 20 soldiers and three officers! As the vehicles unloaded, we had a number of urgent questions. Like, had they seen us? Were they coming our way? Had they been brought to hunt us? What were they here for? Did they have the “avatar” that the snakemen had spoken of earlier?
A Note from the PublisherLadies & Gentlemen who have shown interest in the publication of this Journal:
The Publishers would like to extend their most sincere apologies to you all for the current state of Miss Morgan's Journal. When the blackguard who had been editing the work had absconded to some "Insomniac Realm" or whatever, We, The Publishers, had been of the understanding that he had *finished* editing the Journal and presenting it for perusal For The Edification Of All. Alas, we have just recently come to understand that our understanding had no standing at all. So, We, The Publishers shall take up, once again, the task of finishing the preparation and presentation of Miss Morgan's remarkable Journal! By the end of this month, we will have the next installment ready. Again, our Most Sincere Apologies!
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