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MoN 958: Curiosity Killed the Gilbert

Kirk’s terrible wound—which would have killed a lesser man—took five slow weeks to heal.

With Kirk at death’s door and in no condition to continue, the group had little choice but to hide in one of the side rooms while Gilbert tended to his critically injured friend.

For the next two hours, Gilbert slaved away, keeping Kirk from death’s dark embrace. The redoubtable Englishman barely succeeded, so powerful was the lightning weapon the cultists had used.

While Gilbert worked, the rest of the group showed little propensity for exploration. The room was huge, and the floor was covered in deep dust. Carvings on the walls were obscured by the grime of long ages, and no one seemed keen to determine what they depicted. Other dark openings gaped pierced the room’s walls, but no one was inclined to progress any further.


With Kirk stabilised and now fully conscious, the group discussed what to do next. In a foul, vengeful mood, Kirk wanted to interrogate the cultist they had taken prisoner. While Gilbert and George went outside, Kirk, Jeffrey and Charles got to work. They learnt a bit about how the camera-gun worked and a bit about the cult and its leader, a man called John Carver, but nothing conclusive. After the cultist had tried to headbutt the gun—probably to set it off or destruct it—Kirk lost patience and stabbed the man to death. This vicious murder was the culmination of serious physical abuse; the man had been threatened and beaten, and Jeffrey had cut his ear off.

The cold-blooded murder complete, many of the group—either reflecting on what they had done or allowed to be done—were horrified as to how low they had sunk. Were they now as bad as their enemies? Kirk, of course, had no such worries—after all, he had done much worse before.


In any event, the group decided they were in no fit state to continue. Carefully and furtively, they retraced their steps and headed back to the trucks—Gilbert carrying the supremely dangerous lightning-camera.

Reaching the trucks, the group were reunited with Alice and Jacob. After a night’s rest, the party loaded their trucks and returned to civilisation. Swinging wide around the shack and its denizens, the group drove slowly out of the great depression.


Kirk ever worried about ambush, remembered the sniper’s lair watching the trail. He was, of course, injured to investigate himself. Thus, Gilbert, George, Jeffrey and Charles opted for a stealthy, camel-back approach. This they managed, but climbing the worn path to the lair, several of them made a lot of noise. The sniper—clearly thinking his relief had come—exited the hide and walked straight into the party!

Thinking quickly—and keen to try out the lightning gun—Gilbert pointed it at the cultist and fired! Unfortunately, fortune chose this moment to abandon Gilbert. The gun writhed and bucked in his hand as he fired it; it spun around, and the redoubtable hero only managed to blast himself in the chest with it. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Charles shot the sniper, but it was too late for Gilbert. Quickly searching man, they dragged Gilbert’s scorched corpse back to the trucks. There was no time to mourn—and many of the group just wanted to get away. Throwing Gilbert’s warm corpse into the lead truck, the survivors headed south to the Canning Stock Route and the safety of Cuncudgerie.


Four days later, the small convoy pulled into the dusty mining town. Here, they would rest, recuperate and bury their friend. They did not realise how long Kirk would take to recover from his horrendous wound.

Kirk’s terrible wound—which would have killed a lesser man—took five slow weeks to heal. Thus, only toward the end of October did he feel capable of returning to the fight. Luckily, he hadn’t wasted his time.

Sending word to his organisation in America, Kirk arranged for two Thompson submachine guns and a good quantity of ammunition to be smuggled to him.

He also used his time to read the book, Wondrous Intelligences, which the group had stolen from Mortimer Wycroft. The book—liberally illustrated with salacious images of astounding sexual practices—also spoke of the Great Race of Yith who had come to Earth millions of years ago. Alone among all races, the Yith had mastered the secrets of time. Kirk theorised that he had been briefly possessed by a member of the race when he had looked into the strange contraption recovered from Randolf Shipping Company in Darwin months ago. He further theorised that they had been exploring one of the Yith’s unknowably ancient cities buried for untold epochs.

Thus fortified, the survivors plotted a return to the cyclopean subterranean city.

This post is a session summary for my weekly 7th edition Call of Cthulhu Masks of Nyarlathotep campaign.

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