Libuse, late winter in the year of the Griffin, 633

It was the weirdest awakening ever. Did something go horribly wrong with Dr. Mrkva's hypnosis therapy? Were the intrepid investigators suspended in a realm of dreams and illusions? Everything seemed quite real in the bedroom, though. Sturdy beds with straw-filled mattresses, a single candle burning on a small table in the center of the room. The fellow investigators looked out over the rooftops of a strange town that clearly wasn't Prague. Some of the investigators had experienced bodily changes as well. Felex Jeremiah was ravenously hungry, but he could not see how this might be connected to his hairy and oversized feet. Franz Alter quickly noticed that he awas lacking his characteristic moustache, and that the world weighed so heavily on his shoulders. Many of his usual aches and pains had gone away, though. And where was Mackie?

The Intrepid Investigators found mush of their equipment, or rather artisanal copies of their equipment, in an adjacent room. Conversation and flute music was heard from down the stairs, and the entire building seemed to be some form of inn or hotel, but with a decidedly medieval look. As the investigators slowly walked down the stairs, they were greeted by the proprietor of the inn, a man named Aro, who merrily told the investigators that they had meal and board at the Red Rider Inn paid by a burgomeister named Edelard. Since the investigators were quite hungry, and especially Felix, they all sat down for a hearty meal accompanied by tankards of very good beer. There were at least some similarities to Prague!

Aro the Innkeeper

As the Intrepid Investigators were finishing their meal, and with Felix orderings seconds, a bald man with a moustache approached the table together with what seemed like two bodyguards. He introduced himself as Edelard, the burgomeister or mayor of Libuse. He could not at all explain how the investigators had ended up in this strange place, but he did know that there was a key, the Key of Nefren, that in all likelihood would allow the investigators to return to their own plane of existence. The thing was that the key was the forgotten passageways underneath Castle Imbril, where the wicked Countess Josina held court. Burgomeister Edelard did, however, have an old map of the passageways, including what he claimed to be a secret and hopefully forgotten side entrance. He could also tell the investigators about the strange place they had ended up in:

Edelard the Bold (or Bald, since he keeps his head shaved).

Libuse is a very old city, older than the Brotherhood of Naar, but not as old as Viktra. There have been many dwellings on this spot, and the tunnels and passageways under the city are numerous, especially under Castle Imbril, which is overlooking Libuse from Imbril Hill. Libuse is ruled by the elderly Countess Josina, and she is known to be a particularly cruel ruler. However, she tends to focus on her fiefdom, The County of Carrelon and Lake. Everyday affairs of Libuse are usually run by the mayor, This county is part of a loose confederation of small fiefs, kingdoms, and principalities known as the Iron Circle, which is ruled by the High King in Dragonport.

If one goes north, a traveler will eventually reach the warm shores of the Inner Sea. To the east lies the great kingdom of Belrovia, while beyond the Western Mountains there are vast plains, and beyond them the archenemy of Belrovia, the cruel Principality of Herghest. South lie most of the small kingdoms of the Iron Circle, and beyond those can be found the chilly Anculian Sea. There are several seafaring realms beyond that sea along a temperate coastline.

The High King Carol in Dragonport is, however, dying. He seems to have been unwell for a long time, but this is the end. There is unrest throughout the realm, and both hostile tribesmen and strange beasts are flocking around the western borderlands.

Libuse is awash in rumors, one more fantastic than the other: it is for example said that the great priest Silvander will be visiting Libuse this fall. It is also said that tunnels in the abandoned dwarven mines have collapsed, opening a passage to forgotten treasures. Another rumor concerns the champion knight Sir Sebastian, who is said to be assembling a group of intrepid warriors to rid Libuse of the orcish bandits that are infesting the woods south of the town.

Burgomeister Edelard was kind enough to equip the investigators, and it turned out that the special, well, characteristics of the individual investigators had been adapted to this strange plane of existence. Jules Pollack was a swordsman extraordinaire, skilled in stealth and concealment. Felix Jeremiah had become a halfling with even greater skills in climbing and acting unseen and unheard. Moira Butler was a warrior priestess of Noime, the Goddess of the Coast. She was soon wielding a mighty battle flail, while being able to channel the energies of the Goddess. Howard Lake was a powerful warrior, skilled in the use of the crossbow, but also swordplay, while Frau Claire Bonhofer was standing tall on high-heeled boots and looking down from her chainmail-clad bosom with her trusty whip at her side. Franz Alter had somehow been transformed into a High Elven alchemist, albeit with a yarmulke in his pack. They were ready to take on Castle Imbril!

 

The investigators wasted no time, and they were let out through the city gates discreetly with help from the Burgomeister. It was a cold night, with snowy fields being lit by a gibbous moon. The party was to approach Castle Imbril from the south, to avoid being seen by the guards and alerting the supposedly semi-sentient statue of Marwan, the grotesque Toad God that guarded the main entrance of Castle Imbril. Felix Jeremiah climbed up the steep side of Imbril Hill, and he did indeed find a passage into the hill, although it was covered by lots of snowy underbrush as well as shoddy brickwork. A silence spell took care of the problem of breaking open the brickwork, and the party entered the cold and narrow passages under Castle Imbril. Well. Jules Pollack managed to lose his grip in a rather spectacular fashion, and he entered the passageway being bruised, wet, and miserable. The passageway ended in a confrontation with two horrifying giant spiders in what seemed to be an entrance to what might have been the barracks of some long-forgotten castle guard. The encounter with the spiders proved almost fatal, with several party members facing terrible wounds as well as the nauseating effects of spider venom, but Franz Alter was able to provide antidotes from his portable pharmacy. 

As it turned out, the guards were still on duty, albeit in a zombified state. This is when Moira's powers came into great use, with her commanding voice banishing the zombies in the name of Noime, the Goddess of the Coast. Her commanding voice did however not work on the long row of traps that guarded wide staircases to the inner chambers, but Felix Jeremiah and Howard Lake took care of that - for the most part. The inner chamber turned out to be a tomb, and as one might guess, the denizen of the tomb was restless and demanded to know who disturbed his rest.

 

A fierce melee followed, with the undead horror seemingly impervious to normal weapons. Fortunately, Moira enchanted her flail and started bashing the animated remains of a warrior long gone. The other party members engaged the remaining zombified guards, while Lake managed to take an ancient sword from the tomb. Together, Moira and Lake destroyed the undead warrior with mighty blows.

This gave the party time to both loot the tomb, and find the Key of Nefren. The following inscription was found on the tomb: “Here lies Hothgar, the Champion of Ruin (201-243). May his life make thee think twice”. The party also found 55 old gold pieces, a small gilded cup with semi-precious gemstones, a beautiful longsword with griffon designs and “Excelsior” written at the base of the blade as well as a round shield with a gilded spiked boss, and finally a horned helm with a nose protector and aventail.

The Key of Nefren was indeed found where it was supposed to be. To the horror of the party, though, the handle of the large key was decorated with an image of a figure they clearly recognized: Nyarlathotep! 

 

I am the Passenger

 A conversation on the train from Berlin to Prague on the morning of Thursday, January 13. The Intrepid Investigators are battered, bruised and without even a change of clothing, since they did not have the option of going back to Villa Alter in the Grünewald. Moira Baker and Karen barely made it to the train, and she was almost denied buying a ticket, being dressed as a gypsy and carrying a cage with a wild-eyed hen. 

"So we were framed by Proletkult, those Soviet bastards! Lake was particularly disappointed, having had to leave his very special teacher Adele Christo without even a simple goodbye. "Yes, and they almost succeeded in having us arrested and tried for murder of poor Hubert Bosch. We were incredibly lucky. And just imagine if Proletkult had managed to bring The Pnakotic Manuscripts to Moscow after snatching the tomes from the Neues Museum. Soviet Shoggoths." Jules Pollack whispered the last sentence. The mere thought of this possibility made him reach for his hip flask. "Now, Rosa Klebb and Janis Sarts clearly did not anticipate that we would go after them, and by the way, the house fire that you arranged as a diversion was outstanding!"  Franz Alter nodded towards Felix Jeremiah, who smiled and pointed at Alter. "But the comeuppance of that evil police officer was impressive, but horrifying. I had never seen such a weird creature before. And the wings! What were they? They do not match the descriptions of the flying space creatures, you've mentioned, the ones with the brain cylinders." Felix Jeremiah looked at the investigators that had been part of the strange and disturbing events that culminated in the explosion of the Topfield power station outside Arkham. Mackie shook her head. "No, this beast was larger. It would have swallowed for example a midget whole. Also, the 'Fungi from Yuggoth' seemed highly intelligent. This creature seemed more animal-like" Felix Jeremiah let the snarky comment pass.

"So, are Klebb and Sarts truly dead? Like, really, really dead?" Moira Baker looked skeptical. "Look, Moira." Howard Lake made a gun with his hands. "I nailed them pretty darn good. I guess that only one of those brain containers could have saved them." "Not fun! Not!" Jules Pollack reached for his hip flask yet again. After a hefty swig he looked at his fellow passengers. "Swell. We'll be arriving at Prague's Central Station in just under one hour. We have no money, no clothing except what we're wearing, and it is winter. Just fantastic. Has anyone ever been to Prague?" Frau Clare Bonhofer raised her hand. "Jawohl!"

The police-devouring creature.

The Charles' Bridge, looking west.

Main square (Rathausplatz), looking east.

Wenzelsplatz from the east.

Wenzelsplatz looking east

The Astronomic clock by the main square (Rathausplatz).

Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

 A conversation between the intrepid, but very tired and shaken, investigators, January 10, 1927.

"What a party that was!" Mackenzie MacNamara was of course referring to the New Years' party thrown by Frau Clare Bonhofer's extravagant friend Ramon Hofstädter at the Haus Hofstädter with some fifty guests from the Berlin cultural and/or queer elite, sort of. "Just imagine, Felix Jeremiah almost being smooched by that fat Nazi, Ernst Röhm." Felix Jeremiah glared at Mackie. "I was not amused. His compund stench of alcohol, tobacco, and cheap perfume clung to me for hours afterwards. And remember, our friend Hubert Bosch at the Berlin Polizei told us to lie low for a bit after the explosion at the Nollendorf abattoir. Ha!"  

Hubert Bosch of the Berlin Polizei (NOT at the party).

 
Ramon Hofstädter and Ernst Röhm.

Frau Bonhofer chimed in: "You know that Ramon used to be the em-cee of the El Dorado Club, and he was quite known for hosting lavish and deliciously decadent private parties. I, for one, very much enjoyed putting out lit cigarettes with my trusty Peitsche, not to mention using my Peitsche to disrobe that dastardly fellow Ramon." Franz Alter looked terrified and disgusted when Frau Bonhofer mentioned her antics. He left the living room to was his long, gaunt hands. Meanwhile, Howard Lake was trying to pick out a cigarette from his silver cigarette case, but he fumbled and spilled out the contents. Cursing while picking up the contents with shaky hands, he added: "Mackie I saw how you looked rather hungrily at that fashionista and designer, Birgitte La Perla." Mackie looked indignant. "Should I? She was only in need of some, well, counselling. She did actually have some really relevant questions regarding this... occult mess we've been encountering over the last couple of years. Sg4he had actually heard of us and some of our findings, and she wanted advice regarding horrible nightmares that had been recurring for some time and left her imagination quite dry. Not a good thing for a fashion designer. And then I think she may have introduced me to Siegwald von Mansfeld, the guy who asked me about an artifact, a statuette of a faceless pharaoh in black stone. That's how we ended up at his Krummbeck manor outside Rostock.

 
Brigitte La Perla and Siegwald von Mansfeld.

"I had a really good time, though." Moira Baker smiled and gazed upwards. The food, the ten-man (and woman!) band, the celebrities, like Conrad Veidt, Asta Nielsen, and Thea von Harbou. What a nutter she is by the way! Almost as brown as Röhm. I'd say. It only took a bottle of champagne or two to get the Nationalists flailing about. Well, verbally, at least. And Hofstädter had a fountain in his apartment!"

 
Asta Nielsen, Thea von Harbou, and Conrad Veidt.

"And that's how you ended up outside Rostock, at Krummbeck Manor. I see." Jules Pollack had missed out both on the party and the dreadful events some days later, since he'd been both down with a cold and then fully occupied with the Zukunst store close Nollendorfplatz, the occult, fine arts, and bric-a-brac store managed by Moira Baker in outlandish gypsy garb.

"Yes, and then just after recuperating from our New Years' hangovers we travelled north, to Rostock on the Baltic Sea." Lake was still fumbling with his cigarettes as Franz Alter reappeared. "You were not suffering, Mr. Lake. I had made sure of that. You are making this up. I take care of all good suffering." The room went quiet for a second or two as Franz Alter looked at all of the Intrepid Investigators. Lake dropped his cigarette case again. Jules coughed. "So, you were off to Krummbeck Manor outside Rostock?" Mackie picked up the lead. "Yes, and we were met by Siegwald von Mansfeld, and we had a very nice evening, even if the weather was atrocious. Atrocious, I'm telling you! And then strange things started happening. Suffice to say, it seems as if Siegwald had been told by his batshit crazy mother (in the attic, of course) to bring home fresh meat for her to consume. We were the appetizer, main course, and dessert in one serving. Well, Felix was the appetizer of course." Felix rolled his eyes as Mackie laughed at her own joke. "May I remind you", Felix interjected with a raised finger, "that we very well might have been turned into morsels. Remember Siegwald's ox-like and half-witted brother, Gustave? It was touch and go there for a bit, and it seemed as if the mother claimed that she was receiving instructions from some dark-skinned..." Mackie interrupted: "Yes, the statuette, right. And then we torched the place, and now we're back here in Franz Alter's mansion in Grünewald!"

 

Krummbeck Manor during happier times.