London, St John’s wood – February the 19th, 1925
– “I made more tea”, said Martin.
and John started to rummage through their notes, looking for their
buried teacups. Since his visit to Sir Gavingan, Martin had trouble
concentrating or simply thinking straight, When he heard a knock on the
door, he went for it with the teapot still in his hands. What happened
with this interview ? He couldn’t remember. And why the headaches ?
was Sean at the door, returning from his home after a long and
eventless slumber. After an awkward moment where Shaun pointed the
teapot in inquiry, they went back to the salon. The other two had
finally managed to retrieve their teacups under the massive pile of
papers on the table, and martin began to pour the warm liquid. Sean
dropped himself heavily in Martin’s chair, and passed on the invitation.
And then the house vanished.
There was no sound, no
movement, no nothing. It simply wasn’t there anymore. They were now
sitting in the charred remains of what was a house a long time ago.
grasses and roots had begun to take over the site, every lasting piece
of wood was weathered and charred. Their belongings were intact, but
everything else that was originally in the house was now decayed, broken
or badly burnt.
They stood motionless for a while, shocked and
disturbed by the astonishing situation, and only regained their
composure when a sudden gust of wind threaten to disperse the piles of
their precious notes.
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
Excerpt from an ongoing run of Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Masks of Nyarlathotep (custom arc)