Henry handles the artifact gently, slowly turning and examining it from various angles.
"Now, this is a curious piece of work! I'm about as skeptical as anyone, but I've never seen the likes of this anywhere...not even the Orient, and they have some mighty strange creations."
He hands it carefully to the Monsignor. "What do you make of that?"
The Monsignor turns it over and studies it carefully, "Morphy Rochards" he remarks indicating text on the back side the handle, "Manufacturer? I know plenty of Morphys but none that make pans like this."
"Hmm, if this is indeed from the future, then only witchcraft or sorcery could have brought it here. It is unlike anything I have seen before. It would seem that our suspicions of Mr Black are well founded. David, can you set up a meet between us and Mr Black? Can you get us a copy of this sheet of diagrams so that we might look at it as well? I wonder if any of my industrialist friends might be interested in this artifact...Tell me, have you seen any other artifacts that he has brought from the future?" Hal.
"W-w-well," says David nervously, "We've been told not to share anything about these artifacts. I fear that attempting to arrange a meeting with Mr Black will bring suspision, however, if you are prepared to come to a meeting and join as new members, you can see for yourself and perhaps introduce yourself directly, I'm sure a man of your means, Hal, will be welcomed with open arms. I've also noticed another man who appears to be part of the organisation but does not speak. He sits behind the podium and occasionally speaks with the guards but otherwise keeps himself to himself. As for other artefacts, no. Each member is offered items to buy privately I suspect, as I was. None of the other members have been forthcoming about their purchases."
Hal agrees that attending a meeting is the way ahead and as it happens, one is happening that evening.
The group arrive at the building at 8pm. The structure resembles a grey pillbox, made entirely from poured concrete, with just one entrance, a tall archway with no door barring the entrance. Inside, the room resembles a grey windowless lecture hall or church, wooden benches are lined in rows with a stage and podium at the far end of the hall. A number of members, all pasty looking businessmen, smoking cigars already loiter about the room.
David shows everyone to a table with signup sheets and a lockbox for cheques to be placed, Hal covers everyone's membership fees and each fill the minimum of details using false address. a handful of men in Arabic garb stand menacingly about the room, clearly armed. David hands each of the group the diagrams he mentioned, covered in geomteric shapes and designs. The sheet instructs the user to focus on the designs as the chanting begins.
At 8.30pm the meeting begins. A tall man in dark suit and deep red fez approaches the altar and stretches his arms. As he does, everyone stands up, to a man. The group feel compelled to follow suit and the chanting begins, "Ong D'acta Linka, Nebloid Zin, Nebloid Zin, Ong D'acta Linka, Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth..."
Henry indicates to Hal, a man seated at the back of the stage, he looks incredibly weak and drained. Henry whispers, "That man has just cast a spell of some kind. His energy has completely drained from him. And these words, Yog-Sothoth. We know that name."
"Indeed," whispers the Monsignor, "This is far from wholesome."
"Now, this is a curious piece of work! I'm about as skeptical as anyone, but I've never seen the likes of this anywhere...not even the Orient, and they have some mighty strange creations."
He hands it carefully to the Monsignor. "What do you make of that?"
The Monsignor turns it over and studies it carefully, "Morphy Rochards" he remarks indicating text on the back side the handle, "Manufacturer? I know plenty of Morphys but none that make pans like this."
"Hmm, if this is indeed from the future, then only witchcraft or sorcery could have brought it here. It is unlike anything I have seen before. It would seem that our suspicions of Mr Black are well founded. David, can you set up a meet between us and Mr Black? Can you get us a copy of this sheet of diagrams so that we might look at it as well? I wonder if any of my industrialist friends might be interested in this artifact...Tell me, have you seen any other artifacts that he has brought from the future?" Hal.
"W-w-well," says David nervously, "We've been told not to share anything about these artifacts. I fear that attempting to arrange a meeting with Mr Black will bring suspision, however, if you are prepared to come to a meeting and join as new members, you can see for yourself and perhaps introduce yourself directly, I'm sure a man of your means, Hal, will be welcomed with open arms. I've also noticed another man who appears to be part of the organisation but does not speak. He sits behind the podium and occasionally speaks with the guards but otherwise keeps himself to himself. As for other artefacts, no. Each member is offered items to buy privately I suspect, as I was. None of the other members have been forthcoming about their purchases."
Hal agrees that attending a meeting is the way ahead and as it happens, one is happening that evening.
The group arrive at the building at 8pm. The structure resembles a grey pillbox, made entirely from poured concrete, with just one entrance, a tall archway with no door barring the entrance. Inside, the room resembles a grey windowless lecture hall or church, wooden benches are lined in rows with a stage and podium at the far end of the hall. A number of members, all pasty looking businessmen, smoking cigars already loiter about the room.
David shows everyone to a table with signup sheets and a lockbox for cheques to be placed, Hal covers everyone's membership fees and each fill the minimum of details using false address. a handful of men in Arabic garb stand menacingly about the room, clearly armed. David hands each of the group the diagrams he mentioned, covered in geomteric shapes and designs. The sheet instructs the user to focus on the designs as the chanting begins.
At 8.30pm the meeting begins. A tall man in dark suit and deep red fez approaches the altar and stretches his arms. As he does, everyone stands up, to a man. The group feel compelled to follow suit and the chanting begins, "Ong D'acta Linka, Nebloid Zin, Nebloid Zin, Ong D'acta Linka, Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth..."
Henry indicates to Hal, a man seated at the back of the stage, he looks incredibly weak and drained. Henry whispers, "That man has just cast a spell of some kind. His energy has completely drained from him. And these words, Yog-Sothoth. We know that name."
"Indeed," whispers the Monsignor, "This is far from wholesome."
