Deathless and Nameless (Mummy: the Curse Quest)

Okay, I'm calling the vote here.

Through the trees lie the open grounds of Redwell Hall, gates closing and staff creeping away like particularly sluggish insects. You move from where you had been standing, more still than any mortal could hope to be for the last few hours as the sun sank towards the west, and feel the living force rush through your flesh once more. It is almost time to go to work.

You had left Gracie on the other side of town in the hotel room she had secured for the two of you, with instructions to rest herself. The last you saw of her, she had put on the television in the hotel room and had ordered dinner. The small kindness of that order was reflexive, but there is a part of you which wonders whether kindness is possible anymore for you, if kindness always earns you reward. A well-worn channel of thought, you believe, if you come to it so quickly after arising again.

You arrange your coat and veil to hide your still-dessicated flesh and step forwards to give yourself a better view of the grounds.

Down in the long shade of the Hall, five people have gathered. Were your eyes mortal, you would have had difficulty making out details at this distance, but as it is you quickly register the elements of the scene. Two men, well-built and somewhat fit. A woman in her forties wearing a flannel jacket. And two young adults, one man and one woman with long, red hair. All but the older woman wear clothes marked with the red, hashed square Gracie showed you as the symbol of English Heritage, but the younger woman also has a jacket slung over her shoulder. It takes a little movement on her part to make out the design, but you soon read 'University of London'.

The group talk amongst themselves for a time, evidently amicably, though they're too far away for you to make out the words, before parting ways. The elder three return back to the Hall, while the younger two take a path towards a small paved parking area, both of them piling into a little hatchback car. You note their faces, then the registration plates on the car as it rolls out of the Hall's gardens.

With those details fixed into your mind, you sprint after them. You are not particularly faster than a mortal, unwilling to spend your power to bolster your strength, but you do not tire, and do not worry. You have means to track them down without straining your soul for minimal gain trying to follow them directly.

Before long, buildings begin to surround you again, and you slow from a sprint to a more leisurely trot. The late-afternoon sun slants over the town, turning the tiles red and casting the streets into shadow. Your mind turns as you make your way into town proper.

[Successful Empathy roll]

You had seen them angle away from residential areas and where you knew the motels were, and getting off work it'd be reasonable to find somewhere to take a break. Mainstreet would make sense as a venue, so you walk towards the shops and lights slowly coming on as the sun dips further and further towards its nightly rest. Slowing to a steady stroll, you make your way down the street, scanning the vehicles parked to either side. You do raise an eyebrow at the sight of a restaurant built into what seems like nothing less than a neoclassical temple - 'The Corn Exchange', according to its sign - but pass on by, intent on your purpose.

A few minutes later, you're rewarded with the sight of that same little hatchback pulled up in a side-road on the left, just before a pub built into the corner. A glance to the side yields your quarry; the young man and woman from Redwell Hall sitting in a beer garden, chatting over sandwiches and drinks.

A rapid-fire calculation runs through your head, before you step off the road and into the loud, convivial atmosphere of the pub. Patrons cast you odd glances thanks to your all-covering garb, but they have better things to do and talk about than some odd stranger. You're briefly stymied at the bar, as you realise you don't recognize the majority of the drinks on sale, but eventually pick one at random, pay with some of Gracie's money and carry the perspiring glass out to the pub garden. You take a seat at an empty table near your targets and keep a careful ear as you drink from a straw - the better to not have to expose your desiccated lips. The conversation runs freely for some time, wandering through subjects, before finally there comes an opening. "...But at least the Hall's good money," says the woman, at which you turn towards them as if you've only just heard.

"Excuse me, but did you just say you worked at Redwell Hall?" you ask, standing and crossing towards their table, bringing your drink with you. The two look up as you approach.

"Uh, yeah, it's like a summer thing," said the man, giving you an odd look.

"Perfect," you say. "I'm a historian looking into the history of the Hall. I'm intending to visit properly tomorrow, but seeing as we're all here, if you've time, would you mind giving me your perspective on things? I understand if you don't want to do work-talk, of course, but I'd consider it a great favour - and you can consider drinks on me for the duration."

The two cast glances at one another, then at their near-empty glasses. The woman shrugs. "Not gonna say no to that. I'm Danika; this is Harry."

"Wonderful," you say, smiling behind your veil and projecting the feeling into your voice. "What's your poison, then?"

Drinks are soon obtained, and new, full glasses sparkle on the table as the three of you settle back into place.

[Successful Persuasion roll; increase Impression from Average to Excellent; gain Informed Condition on both of them; Affable Aid procs]

As you sit down again, you pretend to notice Harry's odd looks at your clothing. "Ah, I've a skin condition," you say, gesturing. "My skin is very sensitive, so I have to wrap up carefully. It's annoying, but nothing too terrible." He looks away, embarrassed. "My name's Elisa Morgan," you add, with an embarrassed chuckle. It's almost too easy to work them - but then they are children, and you are Deathless.

Harry salutes you with his drink. "So, why're you out here?" he asks.

You shrug. "I'm part of a project cataloguing Suffolk historical sites, and the Summertons caught my interest after I dug up old records. Business records, mostly, but apparently my family was involved with them a few generations back, so I thought I might as well start there."

Harry nods, while Danika gives a hum of interest. "Small world, I guess. We're just tour guides and stuff, but - well, we've gotta have stuff to tell the tourists. You probably know this already, but I gotta start from the start, or I won't remember." She chews her lip for a moment, then seems to recite from memory. "Redwell Hall was built in 1763 by Julius Summerton. The documents we have don't describe exactly why it was built, but the best theories are either a country retreat, to impress his mistress at the time, Emmeline Farrier, or to better oversee his lands."

Neither name catches in your memory, but you listen on as Danika rattles off a few semi-significant events tangentially related to the Hall - apparently it was built in the same year that the Seven Years' War was ended, whatever that was. None of the rest catch your immediate attention, besides an alleged haunting in the early sixties. Behind your glasses, you raise an eyebrow at that. Though mortals are wont to ascribe ghostly agency to all manner of things, and it may simply be a method of attracting additional revenue, given what you know of the house's occult nature such phenomena may be of interest.

Finally, the student stops to take a gulp of her drink, gesturing to herself and Harry. "Anyway, that's most of what I know. Not like we get to look at the actual documents - they're all in dry storage."

"I asked Hannah about it," Harry jumps in. "She said they've got papers going back to when it was built. Three, four hundred years."

"Ah, that's wonderful," you say, then add laughingly. "Hopefully I'll have better luck at getting a look. But, there's you two and Hannah working there, yes? Anyone else?"

Harry runs a hand through his hair with a noncommittal grunt. The level of his drink has dropped considerably. "Not many. 'S kinda a small operation." He began to count off on his fingers. "There's me and Danika as tour guides. George's the head groundskeeper, with Maurice and Jones to help him. There's Andrew and Martha, who keep the house clean, then Mr. Fisher's our boss, and Hannah's his assistant."

Lubricated by the drink, Harry doesn't seem inclined to stop. The tale spills out, needing only the occasional prodding to continue as he fills in some of the public details about the staff and what goes into caring for the place.

The way Harry describes him, Mr. Fisher is a generally smiling man, unmarried and a bit of a stick-in-the-mud micromanager. Harry awkwardly jokes he's not actually sure Mr. Fisher leaves the Hall at all, before Danika points out there's a small amount of staff lodging near the Hall. His main redeeming feature in Harry's mind seems to be the rare times he takes the staff out for drinking or socialising.

Mr. Fisher and George Harlow have apparently been working at the Hall for over fifteen years and know each other quite well. Harry doesn't know when the two met but speculates they may be old college buddies. Harry doesn't talk much about George, and Danika is also quiet about him, other than to say that Mr. Harlow is usually around fixing this or that around the grounds.

This in turn loops back to the earlier conversation, before you intruded; the Hall is good money but stressful between the general public and the so-called 'inner circle' made up of Cory, George and Hannah Anderson. Hannah has apparently worked with Heritage for a long time, nearly as long as the two heads, and keeps a very tight lid on the actual historical material. Be that documentation or fragile artefacts. Most of those were stored in the basement or off-site. She often wasn't around except in the evenings.

The three of them kept things tighter than a drum, in Harry's sodden opinion. It's why, he says, he isn't going for another stint with the Hall. Danika stays conspicuously silent during this exchange, though it's easy to see that she isn't exactly enthused with the job either.

Outside of the inner circle, Harry describes Andrew and Martha as nice enough. Danika describes Andrew as an amateur poet while Martha's an artist, and the two of them stick together. Both go out drinking with the students semi-regularly, and are only a few years out of university themselves. They'd apparently worked at the Hall for some time, with Andrew covering the day shift and Martha the evenings. Out of all of the staff, the housekeepers socialised with the university students the most.

The groundskeeping assistants, Maurice and Jones, were both distant, and had apparently only worked at the Hall for a year or two longer than Harry and Danika. Like the housekeepers, the groundskeepers lived somewhere offsite. Harry doesn't have much else to say about them other than them being nice people, and by this point he's clearly rather tipsy.

Rubbing at his eye, Harry waves off a look of concern from Danika. "'M fine Dany… sorry to cut this off but I think I need to go. Back home." He stands up, slightly unsteadily.

"I can give you a ride," Danika says, throwing you a glance. She hasn't drunk nearly as much as Harry or yourself, only one half empty glass in front of her.

Harry waves her off. "Nah, you don't have to. I've got cab money. Thanks for hanging Dany, see you tomorrow," he says.

"See you tomorrow," you say. He gives you a smile, then a wave as he turns and walks away, seeming to regain a little of his balance as he stretches his legs.

Danika gives him a wave in return, and the two of you watch as he flags down a cab.

"Seems a nice guy," you comment, once he's gone.

Danika turns back to you with a little smile. "Yeah. A little awkward, but that's Harry." She looks down at her drink, turning the glass back and forth, before draining it and setting it aside. She fixes you with a look.

"So, why are you really coming to the Hall?" she asks, suspicious and wary, but also worn out and stretched thin.

You set your drink to one side and clasp your hands on the table. "I really am interested in the history," you say, "But I know there's something strange going on there, and you do as well." The conviction had built in you over the course of the evening; for all her happiness to spout the company line, she had been rather more quiet on the actual experience of working there. In short, the behaviour of a worker with something to hide.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, before giving a little snort of surrender. "Dammit. Yeah. There is something."

[Successful Persuasion roll, Exceptional success]

"Fuck it, you'll probably be gone in a week or two so why not," she says with a huff, wiping her face with a napkin and tossing it on the table. She let out a long, long, breath.

"I've worked there for a few months now, between lectures and stuff. I'm mostly doing coursework now, so I've got time. But Cory's been weird since day one. The guy is suspicious as hell, and he's always doing his own stuff he won't tell anyone about, or disappearing down into the basement with bullshit excuses," Danika says. "He's talked about some weird stuff, too, and I think some of it's from those documents Hannah keeps such a tight lid on. She's weird as well; straight-up lied to me about being away on business when she was actually doing something on site - I saw her going down into the basement too."

Danika sat back in her seat with a huff, casting a glance back at her drink. "One of the weirdest things was about a month ago, when Cory kept everyone but himself, Harlow and Hannah out of the house for a week, then took us all out for drinks." She sighs, combing a hand through her hair. "It's just… weird, okay?"

You nod sympathetically. "I remember reading that the Summertons had some interest in spiritualism and the like," you say. "Perhaps your managers have caught the bug, so to speak?" You pitch the question to sound slightly doubtful, but like you're open to believe - inviting her to give you a reason to.

"Well, I don't think whatever they're doing's like, seances and stuff," Danika says. "It's… I dunno. Weirder? I'm pretty sure I heard Cory talking to George about an 'invocation' or something once? So, maybe they're like Crowley-type Satanists? If you're gonna do something like that, I guess an old manor house is pretty cool." Her fingers are wound together as she twists them, clearly trying to psych herself up to something. "But… I did see something after that one week. Or, I think I did. Promise you won't laugh? Or, like, put this in a magazine to make fun if you're a secret journalist or something?"

"I promise," you say, your voice like honey. "On my honour."

Danika nods, chewing her lip for a moment before she speaks again. "So, I was helping out dusting one of the bedrooms on the top floor, right? There's this big wardrobe, with mirrors on the inside of the doors. So I opened that up to clean it out and in the mirror I saw this… Thing, behind me. Poking its head in the door."

"A thing?" you ask. "What did it look like?"

"I only saw it for a moment, but it wasn't very big. All-fours, like a big dog, but lean. And its front legs had these massive claws. But its head - all I remember is two big shiny eyes, like a… Imagine a wasp's head, but the size of yours." She visibly shudders. "Anyway, I turned around to see it, but it wasn't there. And when I looked back in the mirror it wasn't there either." She shudders again, then says in a brighter tone, clearly trying to get control of herself again. "It was probably just, you know, mind playing tricks, but it really freaked me out."

"I see. Thank you; you've been most helpful. " you say, smiling grimly beneath your veil. You have a good guess at what this creature may be: An Amkhat; a creation of blasphemous sorcery which lairs in Twilight. You stand, quite satisfied with the information you've gathered.

"Wait!" she says, standing as well. "I know how fake it sounds but-" The bitterness and self-doubt is thick in her tone.

"I believe you," you say. "I'll see you tomorrow, Danika. And with luck, I shall have something to show you."

She doesn't deflate as you expect, the bitterness washing away as she looks at you with determination. "Okay," she says. "I'll hold you to that." She fishes around in her coat pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and a pen. "Here's my number."

You accept the slip and turn to go. Danika's eyes linger on you for a long moment, before the crowd of the filling bar separates you, and you walk out into the evening. Overhead, the first stars glimmer. You have your information, your servant is safe, and several paths lay ahead. You need only choose which to walk.

[] Attack by night. There will likely be fewer to face within the house after sundown. You will go to your former home, confront any squatters that linger and destroy the Amkhat. Overnight, you will have time to examine your Tomb, and in the morning your remaining enemies will present themselves to you. A direct approach, but one that will likely lead to difficulties if you are forced to resort to lethal force either tonight or tomorrow.

[] Speak at dawn. Greet your enemies tomorrow morning and use words before fist and hammers. Perhaps violence will result and perhaps not. Either way you will have less time to investigate the state of your Tomb, but more possibilities for trickery. You will have to lie well, and the cult may have traps which could harm you or allow some of their members a chance to possibly flee.

[] Ambush come Evening. You will wait until the close of business tomorrow evening, with the intent of catching all of the staff of the Hall together, so you can deal with them at once - with fists or words - and not risk any slipping the net. A risky gambit, given the relative level of mortal activity in the surroundings, but the Hall is some way from Bury St Edmunds, and you are quite confident you can contain any difficulties.

---

As a note, without that final Exceptional Success, Danika would not have revealed her witnessing of the monster.

---

Authors' Note: As always, I have to thank @BungieONI for collectively kicking us into motion when it came to writing this, and @GardenerBriareus for brainstorming in the background.

Also, I reposted this because I forgot to put the threadmark in the first time. Oops! @Potato Anarchy , your vote should still be counted.

And finally, note that you will be making a Descent roll tonight.