Thursday, 21 November 2013

The Overlook Motel


Hey guys!

So how about that Overlook Motel? Does it look like Hell on Earth? Like the Brimstone itself has burst forth trying to claim our land? Like the fiery grip of the underworld has reached for our souls?

Fuck yeah! Because it has!

Agent H and I could not believe what we were seeing, deep cracks had formed in the Tarmac from which all manner if foul smelling flame burned, and in the background shit I can't even begin to describe crawled and writhed just out of sight.

It was at the Motel that we met a survivor, a journalist who was following some dude. The trail had gone cold after he had reached the motel, but he thought that maybe us, with our swords, guns and fucking Bee magic could maybe succeed where he failed.

And so H and I started on our first investigation together.

Shit man, I've heard many people say that they've been to a motel and that it's bathroom was hell, but in the case of this place, where it all started, it was literal.

Room 13, the walls smouldering, peeling and breathing.

Our target had been kind enough to leave us his journal where he had documented his travels but most importantly he had also left us the first clue we needed, a cypher for decoding hell-speak.

We searched high and low before we found it, painted in blood on the boards covered by a rug, a circle of sorts with runes and symbols I had never seen before in my life, Agent H was able to find the cypher in the book and working together, her translating based on the cypher, me manipulating the runes, we were able to activate the secrets locked in the circle.

It was a message left by our target. Shit he looked like he was in a bad state of affairs, kept talking about some love of his or some shit.

Anyway, we had his journal and was able to follow his paths. This would lead us to London via Agartha.

Yup, Agartha is real my friends! The hollow earth, the world tree! Call it the fuck you want, it's there under our feet, and with the right tuning you too can reach it.

Getting there however feels like your being turned inside out, your brain being turned into cauliflower cheese while your guts are put through a blender.

It's the end result that matters though, travelling from the US to England in a heartbeat.

Anyway, it was getting late, too late to carry in the investigation, so Agent H and I went for a drink, how better to share with her good oil' English hospitality?

So I shared with her my story, she shared with me hers, but throughout the whole thing I had a nagging suspicion, like someone was watching us just out of sight.

Eventually we hit closing, Agent H got a room in the pub while I caught the last train to my flat.

Tomorrow we would continue our investigation, and frankly the longer I was away from that infernal motel the better.

Shit I'd even take the Wendigo and Zeds over that place.


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