Slain by Elf

A more thorough investigation of the dig site the following day uncovers more material, mostly dirt. Despite having some experience in archaeology I appear to have forgotten most of my learning, and it is only a fresh mound of earth covering the corpse of a familiar body that catches my eye. Still, it's something.

What we would really like to find is evidence of the portal that sent Marcus, the Roman soldier, to a different time or place. Considering the temple's rumoured connection to mythical old gods, I wonder if perhaps I could use a spell to contact Neil Arthur Tepp and see if he knows.

I get the feeling that I'd get an answer, but I'm not sure how I feel about talking directly to Mr Tepp. It sounds a bit risky. 'Don't ask him, then', says Castle.

'So I just call him and say 'how's it going?' I don't see how that will help anyone.'

Scouting the dig site, late in the afternoon, has us finding not much of interest. We're keen to get away from there long before night falls, after all, so aren't looking too closely. But poking through some earth has Castle find something apparently of significance: a five-pointed starstone. On top of that, a sheet of paper flutters to his side.

'Ah, a starstone and a handout. All we need now is for Bert to lose sanity and it will be a 100% successful evening.'

We've uncovered about as much information as we think we can muster through talking to the general population and by researching in the library. Now we need to get back to more physical investigations. As we've already thoroughly ransacked Hancock's house, the obvious next place to visit is the dig site, where the temple to the elder god once stood.

There are no solid roads leading to the dig site, but there are dirt tracks. We think our car could take us most of the way there, but it will be rough going and there's the possibility that the car will break down in some way.

Breaking down in the middle of the Scottish wilderness, in a place holding legends of serpent-people, near the site of a temple to an elder god, the focus of all the recent preternatural events, would be bad.

'Can anyone fix the car if it breaks down?'

'I think Bert's character has the mechanical repair skill. I'm not sure, though.'

'Well, if he doesn't, we can just get his character killed again so that he can create a new one that does.'

Part of a manuscript is handed to us by a researcher that worked for Henry Hancock, and we seek the rest of it. Apparently, the local doctor is a bit of a scholar and helped translate the scrap, so we visit him to see if there is any more to the manuscript. There is, and it reveals some interesting details from Roman times.

We start talking about myths and legends, trying to eke out information about the serpent-people mentioned in the manuscript that we feel could actually be real. 'See the priest', says the doctor, when we conclude our conversation.

We see the priest. We ask about the serpent-people and the associated myths and legends, and although the priest is keen to tell us what he knows he says we should 'see the doctor, because he's the local expert on these matters'.

'The doctor told us to come and see you', says Castle. 'Why would he say that if he's the expert?'

'Maybe the doctor was worried about the good of your souls', says the priest.

'Our souls?' I say.

Castle sees the sense in this. 'Priests and our souls go together naturally.'

Tommy Hayes is in the pub this evening. A small village in Scotland seems like an odd place to be for a Londoner who is reputed to have stabbed a man to death. What is he up to? I decide to tail him to find out.

'He gets up from the bar and goes upstairs.'

'I'll follow him.'

'He goes in to one of the rooms.'

'So he's a lodger too? Okay, that was easy. Can I tick a skill box?'

Herpderp, not his real surname, returns to the investigation after a short disappearance. We get him updated as to what's happened.

'Castle picked a couple of locks successfully, one on his first attempt.'

'And you have Mummy Rot. One of these statements is not true.'

'Dammit, I must have Mummy Rot. What are my updated stats?'

We get the artefact out of Hancock's home and to a place of relative safety. Now we can get the police involved, but how? We broke in to the home to find Henry's corpse, and can't really tell the police that without incriminating ourselves.

'We need to get our story straight before we go to the police.'

'Okay. First question: where are you from?'

'Fenksworld.'

'Great. I think we're ready.'

Poking around the house of Henry Hancock has us delving in to his basement. In one of the rooms we discover a secret chamber behind a false wood panel, which apparently has been overlooked by whoever has ransacked the nearby study. The heavy iron box in the chamber may have been what the intruders were looking for, but we've found it.

Rather, what's inside the box may be important. Let's open it. But it has two locks holding the lid fast. Damn, with Castle's lock-picking 'skills' we may as well just put it back. We've got no chance of getting it open.

No, we won't give up yet! We thoroughly check the house for the keys to the locks, rifling through the mess in the study, and checking upstairs to see if we can find the keys, but none can be found. Perhaps there is a crowbar or hammer and chisel somewhere.

We may have to rely on Castle picking the lock. Our man cheers at given the opportunity, but I don't think this isn't a time for cheering. Even so, with but one stumble, the first lock is opened. And the second flicks open with the first attempt. By Jove, I think he's getting the hang of this.

And not only does Castle pick a lock the same day that he starts fiddling with it, but the solid lump of gold inside the box looks like we've found a fragment of the Disk of R'lyeh.

The obvious first place to look for Henry Hancock, the gentleman apparently in distress, is in his home, in the village he was staying at. After settling in to our accommodation the previous evening, we make our way up to the house to investigate.

We ring the bell, knock on the door, and get no reply. Checking all the doors and windows finds them all locked. The man cannot have simply disappeared, as his last letter to his son said, no doubt falsely, that all was well. Something is afoot.

'Castle could perhaps pick one of the locks to get us inside the house, where we could take a look around. He's done it before. I suppose.' It's true. Our private dick has the skills, but he seems rusty. It took him far too many attempts to break in to the bunker one night in New York, almost like he was waiting for dawn so that he could see what he was doing.

'We could let him try. Or it may be quicker to break a window and call for a glazier to replace the glass.'

Apart from Harry Herpderp, not his real surname, attempting to pickle his organs, the liner journey across the Atlantic is uneventful. We arrive on the west coast of Scotland and travel by train and car to the east. Once there, Herpderp continues where he left off. 'Whisky', he says, when we enter a local pub.

Herpderp gets a whisky and necks a whisky. 'I know who's not going to be much use on this adventure', says Castle.

'I thought we'd already worked that out in New York.'