The Rpg Files

Sandy T.: Cthulhu - 2: Flotsam & Jetsam (pt 1)

(PULP CTHULHU) Session 2 – Character: GUSTAV ZOLOMON


‘Grandpa’ Gustav,

I have just concluded the mission alongside the two you asked me to assist on behalf of Professor Finch--Carlo and Victor von Victor. I must tell you my intelligence, strength, or combat skills were not needed. The two were more than capable—Not to mention Victor brought along his bodyguard. His name was Dale, if I remember correctly. However, since you asked nicely, and I know your off, in the Orient adventuring, I will continue to keep an eye on your friends.

Let us get into it, shall we?

You sent me to meet Carlo and Victor at the designated location. I arrived first—but the pair were not hard to recognize. The only confusing element was Dale. Mind you, ‘gramps’, I’m terrible with names. The only reason I remember Victor’s is because it’s… well, Victor.

The Strange but True newspaper

We met with the head of the paper—his name… Well, you know it.

He told us what they were famous for.... tabloids. A waste, I tell you. The crazy man even showed us a newspaper clipping. Something about a bat boy and a baseball flying around the bases. From this guy’s own words, they “Print the news people aren’t ready to hear.”

He asked us to interview one Otis Frye, a man claiming to be a moon man of all things! A moon man! I was beginning to think this to be a colossal waste of my talents. But then he told us Mr. Frye was handing out gold coins. There was even a rumor of a convention of moon men…

I was ready to walk out when he offered us our pay. Five dollars a day, starting immediately. And if we were lucky enough to get an interview with Mr. Frye, and some photographs, he would pay us $10/day. Given you sent me with almost no money—a mere fifty cents—I was happy to oblige. We were to find the moon man before he ‘ascended to the stars’… The gold coins would be a nice souvenir and worth a bit, I bet. I promised I would bring you back something—I’ll try to get my hands on one.

And thus we headed to the train station.

The NY express train was a tad late itself. But once it finally arrived, we boarded without incident.

We took the train all the way out to Boston, then transferred toward Ipswich. We were the only ones on the second train. It was quiet and awkward. The men were likely casting me glances… not because of my ‘stunning’ beauty, but because my hair was oily, I was sweaty, and my clothes were worse for wear. And if they had only seen my armpits. I shudder to think of anyone seeing them in such a state. I looked like an actual hobo! Surely, they thought me to be one—and I guess technically I am homeless, and always traveling and working for you.

The train took us to Ipswich, a small, middle of nowhere coastal town—bordering on disgusting swampland. If we must traverse the marshes, I am at least glad you provided me with a new pair of boots. The toes had torn in the last pair and it gives me chills to think of the muck touching my feet. Simply disgusting. You know how I am.

About Ipswich. It’s one of the oldest towns in the area. Beside it was the Ipswich River. I mentioned the marshes, didn’t I? Well, there are apparently bootleggers out there making some choice beverages. And here’s a random fact for you—They are the largest producer of women’s hosiery. How do you like that ‘Gramps’? Maybe I should bring you back a pair of those for your lady friend—the one who loves to feed you pie. Disgusting… I should punch her in the face.

We disembarked from the train early in the morning. The first sight we were met with was a huge sign. “Welcome to Ipswich” … it had a huge fish beneath it. The one with the pointy nose… ah yes, the swordfish, right?

We traveled through town toward the Gray House Hotel. It was little more than a big gray house that served as a hotel.

On the way we passed the Inquirer newspaper. It was run-down compared to the Strange but True establishment. There was also a police station with a single car outside. Low population of law enforcement. Wonderful. I just hoped no one would cause any trouble

The last time I was in such a small town, they tried it was a huge cult that worshipped some structure of black metal. They tried to burn me alive. I barely escaped with my life.

At the hotel, we booked three rooms. I had planned on sleeping outside, but the town gave me the creeps, so I decided to have a room of my own. Carlo went to his own room. Victor and Dale their own as well.

I took a quick bath and washed my hair. Then I met the men outside.

We leaned some things as we asked around… Interesting things.

There had been ‘scary fellows’ in town—in trench coats and big dark hats. They weren’t staying in town as the only hotel was the Gray House and they’d never been rented to.

A realization fell over us as we left the hotel. We didn’t have a camera, and the boss wanted an interview and pictures. So, we headed to the Inquirer to see if we could learn anything, and perhaps borrow a camera.

The man at the Inquirer was known as Ed Titcomb, I think. We told him where we were from. You know, I wasn’t quite sure I heard him right. That name sounded a bit…odd. He had short buzzed white hair and a huge cigar in his mouth as he rambled on…. The mystery men in the trench coats had stopped by and terrorized the receptionist, Audrey. They gave her a hard time. They were asking about Elsie, the one who wrote the original article on the moon man.

Jake A. Strife

#1704 in Fantasy
#120 in Science fiction

Story about: rpg, roleplaying games, magic

Edited: 19.12.2019

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