Shudder-inducing Showdown at the Shack of... Shecrets?

A one-shot played using Green & Unpleasant Land by The Gemfish. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

I was drawing a bit of a blank when answering the prompts, so I decided to draw a tarot card for each one to provide some guidance.

I am Augustin Bischof, a member of a shadowy group of hunters dedicated to protecting humanity from dangerous supernatural forces. I'm sitting in a remote shack outside Falkenhagen, both barrels of my shotgun are loaded and pointed at the door. I await the arrival of my colleague and mentor, Ludwig Schönberger who may have fallen prey to the very powers that we once fought against together.

Hour 1 (Threat: 3)

I remember when you found me, alone in the ruins of that old house, my hands dusty with the chalk I'd drawn the complex, if shaky, sigils with. You appraised my work in silence as I remained in a tense crouch, unsure whether to flee or confront you. After moments that felt like hours, you quietly complimented my handiwork and enquired as to my purposes. I knew in that moment that how I answered would determine how much longer I'd have to live, and decided to be honest that I was a mere dabbler and explorer. I think that combination of naivete and raw talent is what led you take me on as your apprentice.

Hour 2 (Threat: 3)

I remember picking up a copy of Trybuna Narodowa in a cafe in the port of Gdynia. I was on the trail of the warlock Izydor Kotkowski and had tracked him to the city, suspecting he was planning to board a ship to Stockholm and out of our reach. I glanced though the pages as I waited for sign of my quarry and had no real interest in the articles, but somehow the obituary section caught my eye. My hands shook slightly and I tried to maintain my composure as I read the notification of your death in a train accident outside of Ostrava. I was unable to linger, however, as I caught sight of Kotkowski emerging from a side street - I grabbed my hat, wrapped my greatcoat about myself, and set off in pursuit.

Hour 3 (Threat: 4)

I remember arriving at your house in Haganj village, having recovered a map and key from the our active last dead drop in Bydgoszcz. Kotkowski was dead and his grimoire en route to the chapterhouse in Berlin. As I suspected, the house was bare, merely a front for the entrance to the basement lab, and as I descended the narrow stone staircase I smelt the acrid chemical stink of your Great Work. Every available work surface was caked with gore, radiating out from the central operating table where a variety of limbs, organs, and sheets of skin had been abandoned before being fully assembled. I cautiously approached, amulet in hand, and pulled back the sheet that coverered the amalgam's head. A litany of prayers and curses followed when I saw it had your face.

Hour 4 (Threat:3)

I remember the years we spent together in service of the Order, the years of training under your guidance as I learned to recognise the difference between safe, sanctioned arts and the dangerous, forbidden practices of warlocks. I was so proud on the day that you told me I had passed my training and would be elevated to the same rank as you. I anticipated the work that we'd achieve together and was intrigued when you alluded to a higher purpose we might aim for, a Great Work that you'd been pursuing for many years. It never occurred to me to enquire of the wider members of the Order on the rare occasions we were in Berlin, but in hindsight I realise that I should have been more vigilant of signs of occult influence.

Hour 5 (Threat: 3)

I remember recoiling from the abomination you had crafted in the basement of your house in Haganj, whispering prayers until my voice was hoarse. I knew that this thing on the slab could not truly be you, but it wore your face and that needed further examination. Building up my resolve by reciting an incantation to appease the funerary spirits, I slowly paced back to the operating table and peered at the assembled corpse. The edges of the delicately flayed face had been etched with tattoos in a cursive script, the stylus a length of bone which lay to one side of the head. Recalling my Cyrillic lessons, I recognised snatches of meaning, enough to fear that the face had been enchanted and transmuted to resemble your own. I was relieved to learn you had not died a second time, and now had significant doubts that you'd died outside Ostrava. What I could say for certain was that you were involved in harshly proscribed arts and we need to talk to determine whether you could yet be saved.

Hour 6 (Threat: 2)

I remember discussing you with Artur Janik, a retired priest in the village of Kleszczów. He was unaware of the nature of our group, but recognised the name enough to entrust me with his written account of a series of disturbing events that had plagued the village in recent years. A great wolf, rumoured to be the offspring of the devil and an outcast witch, had been killing livestock for months and now had progressed to attacking lone travellers at dusk. A stranger arrived in the village one morning and, after spending the day enquiring after the beast and its movements, spent the night of the full moon in the woods. Nobody expected to see the stranger again, so it came a surprise when he returned at dawn; streaked in gore and carrying the freshly-skinned pelt of a great wolf. The stranger deposited his trophy on the steps of the church and left without answering any of the community's many questions or accepting any of their hastily-offered gifts.

Hour 7 (Threat: 2)

I remember staggering out of your house in Haganj, desperate for fresh air and natural light. As I reached the front door I noticed something I'd missed on the way in; a crumpled sheet of paper laying on the floor behind the front door. On closer examination I saw that it was a page torn from a book and heavily annotated in your handwriting with what I can only describe as thoughts on how to implement the original page's content. Furthermore, the notes were addressed to me, they were your attempt at explaining how your forbidden experiments shaping and animating dead flesh could be of use to us in our work. I carefully folded the page and tucked it into the inner pocket of my greatcoat, we would discuss this matter further in person and if need be this would be a key piece of evidence in your prosecution.

Hour 8 (Threat: 2)

I remember roaming the streets of Berlin with the rest of my - our - brothers and sisters from the chapterhouse as we searched for any trace of you. The hunt was not my doing, the page was still hidden about my person, instead you had drawn the covetous eyes of several less-accomplished members of the Order. They had conspired to make allegations against you that while lacking any substance they could prove, were nonetheless all to close to the truths that I had uncovered. I decided that it would be best to play along and join the city-wide search on the first night, and then slip away the following day to make my way to our safehouse outside Falkenhagen. I knew that eventually word would reach you and you'd make your way there to make contact with me. I felt the weight of guilt in my heart for betraying the Order by withholding evidence, but I knew that you must have a reason for what you did. I owed it to you to let you explain to us, to me, what you were planning.

The Choice

You arrive. I hear the crunch of dry leaves on the path and the clatter of keys, fully aware that both are courtesies your are affording me; we both know that you are more than capable of reaching and entering the safehouse in absolute silence. As the door creaks open I feel the shotgun shaking, before realising that it is my hands that tremble. I see your face and cannot bring myself to fire, I lower the shotgun and use it to gesture to the empty chair on the other side of the hearth.

The Die Roll...

The roll is 4, you're not here to kill me.

You take the seat opposite me and we sit by the fire. At first we sit in tense silence, but eventually I withdraw the page from my coat and pass it to you, signalling the start of a long conversation that takes us through the night. When dawn arrives we have both learned much about each other and both know that when we leave it will be to travel far from the Order's reach, as they will be pursuing us both now.