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Prices and Favours Thursday, 17-Feb-2000 22:43:32 195.92.198.73 writes: It is the nature of Man to worship or venerate things and forces that he perceives to be greater and more powerful than himself. Many deities have been "created" in this manner, and many creatures that are not deities have been, well, pressed into service. Mankind has even been known to venerate the Elder Creatures. The best known is the cult of Cthulhu, a group of worshippers that still meet to practice their degenerate rites in nameless jungles. Even the Shoggoth has been known to have the occasional congregations, although only one of them has ever survived for very long. The format of such worship is well known. The High Priest stands next to the nameless and unnameable altar, where is tied the sacrifice of the week - by tradition this is a Nubile Virgin, although the more degenerate congregations have to fudge the requirements a little. The body of the congregation surround the altar, dancing and chanting in an effort to propitiate their god. The congregation chant and dance faster as the High Priest makes his invocation, pleading that the god reveal himself to his people and devour the sacrifice. In the mean time, the Nubile Virgin indulges in liturgical screaming as she tries to escape the ropes binding her to the altar. Eventually, the chanting reaches a climax, at which point, one of two things usually happens: The Dashing Hero leaps up to the altar, slays the High Priest, releases the Nubile Virgin, and fights his way to safety through the cultists whilst carrying the aforesaid Nubile Virgin over his shoulders. The High Priest, realising that the god is not going to show up, forwards the Nubile Virgin to the intended deity by means of a sharp knife. Deep in a nameless jungle, one such band meets even now... * * * As the High Priest raised his knife a wave of unadulterated terror swept through the cultists. With the exception of the High Priest and the Nubile Virgin, they all fled in panic. The Nubile Virgin (who was now really getting in to the screaming) was unable to escape on account of being tied to the altar. The High Priest, on the other hand, was being hindered by the blob of protoplasm that was oozing up from the earth and crawling over his body. For a brief moment the Nubile Virgin's screams were drowned out by a falsetto shriek, and then there was silence. When the cultists returned, they found the slime-covered body of their High Priest. His head, and the Nubile Virgin, were both gone. With great wisdom (at least, for degenerate cultists), they decided to find a slightly safer god. * * * Excerpt From a personal letter from Lord Chalfont Latimer, patron of the Society for the Prevention of Exploitation of Children (SPEC) to Sir Mumphry Wilton: ... have noticed that some of the teenagers from the London Unit have been disappearing. Of course, most of the children that we deal with are runaways, and tend to appear and disappear quite often, but most of them do keep some form of contact with us, if not their families. The disturbing thing is that the disappearances are mostly amongst the girls in their late teens who have no family connections. The sort who nobody would notice if they disappeared - we only noticed the correlation after a few chance remarks from some of the street children. The Police are sympathetic, but helpless. The homeless situation in London being what it is, this is only to be expected. I would very much appreciate your advice in this matter. My father mentioned that you used to be something of a campaigner for justice in your younger days, and still have a wide network of contacts in all sorts of odd places. In fact, I understand from Detective Inspector Gallowglass that you recently ... * * * It is fairly well known that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The application of this old saw is fairly obvious when dealing with Elder Creatures. It is a little less obvious when dealing with such things as insurance statistics. Let us examine the case of one Theydon Bois. Theydon was an insurance claims assessor in no less prestigious company as Lloyds. He had a sharp mind for his job, was well regarded by his compatriots, and his prospects looked good. Then misfortune came a-knocking. He was asked to compile a survey of shipping losses around the world by company, cargo and location. The survey was to cover as greater time period as possible - right back to the earliest records available. This was a somewhat unusual request, made more so by the fact that the request had come (via his superiors) from the venerable Sir Mumphry Wilton - known more for his reputation as a perfect gentleman than for any interest in insurance history. It had been a gruelling task. Early records were incomplete, and prone to barratry. More recent records were more complete, but often inaccurate, due to the playful renaming and reflagging of ships to circumvent local laws concerning cargo and seaworthiness. The task was made more pleasant by the presence of a young lady called Asil Ashling, who appeared to be Sir Mumphry's personal assistant. Although she was a little short on experience with Insurance and Shipping, Miss Ashling was enthusiastic, dedicated, adaptable and clearly worshipped her employer. She often referred to him as a visionary, or something like that. In the dry and dusty world of insurance statistics, Miss Ashling was a breath of spring air. (Actually, Mumphry had assigned Asil to the case with some very strict instructions, which he summarised as "Keep an eye on the boy, make sure he does his job and make sure that he doesn't over-pace himself. Regular meals too, and none of this modern Tapas rubbish ... And keep an eye out for anyone asking questions") Eventually, the pieces of the jigsaw came together. As expected, shipping losses were higher in the early days of shipping, when ships were less safe that they were today. The highest losses were in ships associated with the then slave trade, now thankfully abolished. This was hardly surprising - the slave trade had been notorious for poor conditions, both in the stock and the transport facilities. The modern shipping losses were more even, although there were somewhat higher losses associated with the "cheaper" shipping companies. Again, no real surprises, except for one shipping company that recently seemed to be having more than its fair share of losses. There seemed to be no correlation between losses and cargo, however. A slightly higher proportion of the ships seemed to be lost in the southern hemisphere. The unfortunate company was Cross Cargo International, a small (relatively speaking) shipping company owned by one Hatton Cross, a resident of the United States of America. The results of the survey were dispatched by courier to Sir Mumphry's offices, and the two researchers disappeared off to a Tapas Bar ("Come on Asil, you should at least try it once..."). Neither reached their destination. * * * From the Diary of Sir Mumphry Wilton: Detective Inspector Gallowglass called this morning. It seems that they found the body of young Theydon this morning, dumped on one of the Thames Rubbish Barges. Nasty business - someone belted him from behind, and then shot him. No sign of Asil's body, so hopefully she is still alive. She's a resourceful girl, so should be able to cope. The young lady at City Couriers tells me that the motorcycle courier carrying Theydon's report was involved in a prang just round the corner from the Lloyds Building (ugly thing - I still think it looks like an oil refinery). The report has gone missing, so I doubt that it was an accident. Luckily, young Asil had the presence of mind to send a copy of the report using this e-mail thingie (dashed clever device) - young Prentiss brought it in this morning. Report would seem to point the finger at this Hatton Cross chappie, but Gallowglass says this is not evidence. Cautious fellow, not at all like his father. Has a point, though - no evidence that would stand up in a court of law, as I doubt that a jury would understand the meaning of the statistics. I'm not sure that I would have believed it myself. * * * Sir Mumphry Wilton sat back in his chair. A check of the ports (unofficial, of course) showed that one of Cross Cargo International's ships had left Tilbury the previous night. The night watchman on duty had mentioned a scuffle whilst the last of the crew was boarding. The gangplank was already up, so there was not much he could have done. Of course, it was quite possible that this had nothing to do with Asil, but unless she found a way of contacting him (or Gallowglass found a few clues) his options were rather limited. He was not nearly so confident of Asil's abilities as his diary made out. Even after that business with the Sempiternus Singlarum, she still lacked experience. What was worse was that he could do nothing - changing the past was not something he was prepared to do, and the only ... person ... he knew that was prepared to use such abilities was unlikely to help. The office was silent, save for the ticking of the clock. In an effort to clear his mind, Sir Mumphry reread the report. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Something about that small geographical correlation. He started making a few notes and calculations. In the older records, there was a definite correlation between cargo and location. Losses were more-or-less even throughout the world for all cargoes, except for one. Most of the losses in the slave trade occurred in the around South Africa and South America. After a few moments thought, he took off his watch, and placed it next to the telephone. He picked up the receiver and dialled, his hand shaking slightly. He had dealt with this creature only a few times, and that when he was very much younger than now. He heard the ring tone for a few seconds, followed by a click, like a receiver being picked up, and then silence. "Mumphry Wilton," he answered. "You may remember me from that business with those American explo..." His comments were cut off by another silence. "I'm sorry. If this is an inconvenient time, I can call back later." An explanatory silence. "Oh, I see. I seem to remember that you rather disliked that sort of worship." An inquisitory silence. "Well, an assistant of mine has gone missing whilst investigating some...". He hesitated, and the continued on a slightly different track: "It appears that there is a sort of slave trade starting up again. My assistant was investigating it when she disappeared.". There was a real silence on the phone, followed by a single question. "She is called Asil Ashling..." She was the one with you at the birthing. The one who claims ... kinship ... with the one called Lisa Mumphry was impressed. It was rare for this creature to move so close to speech. "Yes, in a way she is related to Miss Waltz. It seems that Miss Waltz is her 'Doody-head'..." Doody-head? "I think it is something to do with being a donor of genetic material. Asil was cloned from Miss Waltz. Don't understand the process myself, but it seems to work." Yes. I will search the seas for this Asil Ashling. "As to the Price, I understand from that Xander fellow that..." There will be no Price. "Are you sure?" There is no Price due from you. Some abominations should not exist on this world. Success in the search will bring forth its own payment. The line went dead. Mumphry replaced the handset on the phone and returned the watch to his pocket, noticing in passing that the chronal charge was almost depleted. That was not surprising. Only the articles of office could have allowed him to call a number in Antarctica, a place with neither dialling code nor telephones. He considered the creature's parting words. He may have done more harm than good. * * * Blair Atholl, new deck hand on the (ahem) good ship "Cross Purpose", was not a happy man. It was not the fact that he was working for one of the less honest shipping companies. Nor was it the fact that the ship changed it's registry so often that he suspected that the various flags of convenience would start to spell "England Expects...". Nor, indeed, was it the possibility that some of the ship's cargo was, well, smuggled goods. He was (originally) of good, honest Cornish stock, a people to whom smuggling was akin to a national sport. The cause of his unhappiness was what he was seeing and hearing in the Captain's cabin, whilst swabbing (well, actually sweeping) the deck outside. The Captain was shouting at someone. This in itself was not unusual, as the Captain was not known as a man of even temper. The problem was that whoever the Captain was shouting at was not shouting back - and the rest of the crew (himself included) were not exactly meek and retiring. There was the sound of someone being hit, and then the Captain stormed out of the cabin, shouting an order to the First Mate: "Dump her in the hold with the rest of them. We'll see how long she keeps quiet after an hour or two down there." Blair ducked round a corner to avoid being seen. The First Mate strode past carrying the limp form of a young girl over his shoulder. He carefully followed the First Mate down to the hold. In the Hold, the First Mate opened up one of the bulkheads to reveal a small, dimly lit compartment containing several bodies, all sprawled on the deck. The girl was dumped amongst them, and the bulkhead closed. Blair barely managed to hide in time to prevent the First Mate from seeing him. He suspected that being caught seeing this would result in a rather long swim. Blair was not happy. Smuggling was one thing. This stank of white slavery. * * * The Great Old Ones originally created the Shoggoth as a creature of the oceans. Although it now lives on land, the sea is its original habitat. The Shoggoth was abroad in the oceans of the world, and they were angry. * * * A short time later, Asil regained consciousness, and began to take stock of her situation. She did not feel at all well. She had been hit on the head several times, shouted at by some strange men, and finally dumped in a gloomy, smelly room that was insisting on swaying slightly (which made her feel slightly sick). She had a sore head, and the manacles on her wrists were starting to hurt. There was a persistent rumbling noise that was doing nothing for the headache. Asil carefully shifted herself against one of the walls. It appeared to be made of metal. She was in the hold of a Ship. She was surrounded by bodies - apparently all female. A few spot-checks indicated that they were alive and hence probably drugged. They also appeared to be wearing manacles. It looked like Sir Mumphry had been right. Someone was kidnapping young girls. She wasn't sure why, and wasn't sure that she wanted to know why either. Right. The first order of business was to free herself from the manacles. The second was to escape from this compartment, and the third was to contact Sir Mumphry. She would have liked to have Visionary's advice, but was fairly sure that he had little experience of being manacled in a ship's hold with a large number of young women. That meant that she would be breaking new ground. She had a chance to make Visionary proud of her. And Sir Mumphry, as well. First, she thought, the manacles. She examined them carefully. They felt quite solid, and appeared to have been securely locked. Super-strength or lock-picking abilities would have been useful, but she had a different alternative. She pointed her arms down, closed her eyes and concentrated. A moment later, she was rewarded by hearing the clatter caused by a pair of manacles designed for the wrists of a young adult falling off the wrists of a five-year-old. With a second burst of concentration (and a little wriggling to avoid tearing her clothes), she resumed her normal apparent age. Let's see Visionary do that!, she thought, a little proudly. Straightening her clothes, she began to search the walls, trying to find the exit from the compartment. To her delight, it only took a few moments to find. Her delight was short-lived. There seemed to be no way of opening the door from the inside. Perhaps super-strength would have been more useful after all. As she stood back to reconsider her options, the ship lurched to one side, There was a terrible shriek, and the drone of the engine changed to the sound of a machine being lubricated with several large pieces of scrap metal. * * * The terrible shriek was not heard by the rest of the crew, and in any case they would not have known the sound for what it was. There are very few people living who could identify the sound of a set of propellers being ripped away from a ship by an enraged Shoggoth. * * * Blair happened to be at the prow of the ship at the time this happened. He was standing at the rail looking at the horizon, and trying to decide what to do. Rescuing the girls was out - He was no hero, and besides had no idea how many of the crew were involved. He nearly overbalanced as the ship lurched to one side. He managed to regain his balance, and ran for the bridge. As he ran, the ship tilted over, and he heard the alarm sounding to abandon ship. He started to head for the lifeboats, but suddenly changed his mind. The Captain would probably leave the girls to drown. He may not be able to save all of them, but he might be able to save one of two of them. He ran for the hold. * * * Asil was worried. She was prepared to admit her ignorance of ships in general, but she was fairly sure that the deck should not be tilting at that angle. She was about to try the "hammering on the door and shouting" option when the bulkhead was opened to reveal a rather worried looking sailor. "What's happening?" she asked, wanting an expert opinion. "The ship's sinking.", he replied breathlessly. "If you grab one of the girls, we may be able to get two of them out between us." Grasping the urgency of the situation, Asil reached for one of the girls as the sailor stepped into the room and reached for another. The ship gave another lurch, which had the net effect of throwing them across the room, and swinging the bulkhead door shut. The sailor threw himself across the compartment in a vain attempt to prevent the bulkhead from closing. He bounced. "I take it that was not meant to happen." said Asil. The sailor swore profusely. After a few moments the swearing subsided and he looked up at her. To his surprise, he managed a smile. "No. I'm afraid we are stuck here." he replied. "Asil Ashling." she said, offering her hand. "Blair Atholl." he replied, accepting it. "What happens now?" Asil asked. "We wait. Either the air will run out and we suffocate, or the compartment floods and we drown." he answered, "Not much of a choice, really.". As they sat down to await the inevitable, water began to seep through the lower part of the bulkhead. * * * From a safe distance, the remainder of the crew sat in the lifeboats and watched the ship slip beneath the waters. The First Mate had made sure that the occupants of his lifeboat consisted of the Captain and the other members of the ring. The rest of the crew were spread across the others. That made it easier for them to plan their next moves. It also made life so much easier for the Shoggoth waiting immediately below the lifeboat. The lifeboat and its occupants was engulfed in a mass of protoplasm, and pulled beneath the waves. Several minutes later, the occupants resurfaced without the lifeboat, and without their heads. The effect this had on the remaining crew is best not recorded. The remainder of the crew were picked up by rescue craft two days later. None of them could be persuaded to tell what had happened. * * * Meanwhile, in a compartment within the hold, the water level was rising. Asil and Blair had managed to manoeuvre the girls so that their heads were above water, but it was a futile gesture, and they both knew it. They were resigned to death by one means or an other. So they were completely unprepared when the bulkhead opened of its own accord. The hold outside was flooded, with unsecured items of cargo floating about, but did not appear to be filling up. The lights were flickering, but not yet shorted out. Asil was the first to react, wading out into the hold. She waded to waist depth, turned, and looked to Blair for guidance. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Asil. By now the ship will be under water. Even if we made it to the deck, we would drown before we reached the surface.". Asil was about to reply when she felt a shiver run down her spine. Then something brushed against her leg. "Blair," she screamed in mounting terror, "There's something in her..." And then the Shoggoth engulfed her. Blair barely had time to scream before he too was engulfed. * * * The essence of the one called Asil Ashling floated in the void. Around her, she could hear voices, but they spoke in a language she could not understand. The terror that had gripped her had receded into the background, leaving only a vaguely comforting presence. Had Asil not been a clone, she would have described it as "maternal". Child, do you hear me? Yes, she replied. Those who stole you are no more, yet the one who commanded them is still. Do you know the name of this abomination. I don't understand. The one known as Mumphry Wilton sent you to seek a name. What is it? Hatton Cross. Asil answered. Good. The Price is paid. I can now return you. Asil could feel herself starting to flow through the void. The voices began to recede, drowned out by a rushing noise, like a turbulent stream. Who are you? Asil asked, as she felt the presence detach itself. You may know this part of me as Sh'ron. The words faded into the roar of the stream. And, accompanied by a large amount of seawater, Asil Ashling appeared in the boardroom of Wilton Enterprises. Sit Mumphry was later to admit that it was probably the most interesting thing to have happened in a company board meeting for a long time. * * * From the Paradopolis Evening Post: Shipping Magnate Hatton Cross Murdered ... body was discovered by the cleaning staff in his penthouse suite this morning. His body had to be identified by fingerprints and by various personal items since the head had been completely removed. The murder must have taken place elsewhere, as there was no blood in the suite where the body was found. It is still unclear how the intruder managed to break into the suite, as it is generally regarded as one of the most secure in the city ... * * * When Blair awoke, he found himself aboard one of the ship's lifeboats. He was not alone - the girls who had been in the hold were also in the lifeboat, their manacles removed. Some of them were just beginning to stir. Asil, however, was nowhere to be seen. The lifeboat was beached on a stretch of sand which fronted what appeared to be a tropical forest. In fact, the scene was almost correct for an idyllic holiday advert: Sun, Sea and Sand. Definitely not English Channel material. It was in fact an island in the Indian Ocean, but Blair could hardly be blamed for not knowing this. The beach reached round on both sides, forming a fairly large bay enclosed on the seaward side by a reef. For some reason, he felt a vague unease whilst looking across the bay. Deciding that, wherever he was, securing the boat might be an idea, he clambered out and on to the sand. He then realised that there was someone sitting on the beach in the shadow of the lifeboat, with their back against the hull. The person, disturbed by the lifeboat's rocking as Blair climbed out, rose and faced him. She was a tall, dusky woman, quite attractive, and dressed in a flowing white robe. "Errrm..", he said. Agreed, it was not the best opening for a conversation. But then, Blair was not really in the best state of mind at the moment. "Welcome.", she smiled. "You speak English!" he exclaimed, happy to find a concept that he could handle in his current state of mind. The woman smiled again. "No. I am called Ebony of Nubilia. I have been waiting for you to awaken. Please, come with me." She turned, and started to walk towards the forest. Blair hesitated - this was unfamiliar territory, and besides, there were the girls in the lifeboat to consider. Ebony noticed that he was not following, and half-turned. "I am to take you to the village. The girls will be safe here - there are few dangerous creatures that will risk visiting this beach.". She said this in a tone of voice that suggested that there would be even fewer that survived the experience. She waved a hand in the general direction of the sea. Blair looked, and saw a group of children swimming near the reef. "This beach is safe. Cthandra guards the bay." "Who is Cthandra?", Blair asked, fully expecting the answer to be one of the local gods. "The Shoggoth.", she replied. "Perhaps you might introduce yourself?" "Oh. Errrm... Blair Atholl.". He thought for a moment. "How did I get here - the last thing I remember..." "Was a sinking ship.", Ebony completed for him. "Sh'ron sent you here." "Sh'ron?" "The Shoggoth." She walked to him, took his arm, and started to lead him towards the jungle. As they came closer, a rough path became visible, leading to a village hidden amongst the trees. In the trees above, a group of monkey-like creatures with black-and-white ringed tails scampered from one branch to another, clearly on their way somewhere. In the undergrowth, small pig-like creatures hooted to each other as they looked for food. "You see, everyone here was either a slave taken from a ship, or an intended sacrificial victim. I understand that the Shoggoth takes a rather dim view of such things..." Their voices faded into the sounds of the Jungle. * * * In Soho, Sir Mumphry Wilton was having dinner with Asil Ashling, and discussing the events of the past few days. It is a minor matter to note that that the events in question would not take place for several years - Sir Mumphry had always felt that Leoni's Quo Vadis went downhill after Leoni sold it. There are advantages in being a time-traveller. Asil had just finished relating her story. "...and Sh'ron has obviously taken care of Hatton. But this whole thing got Theydon killed, and I don't know what happened to Blair - I would have thought that the Shoggoth would have sent him back with me. And what about the missing girls?" Mumphry considered his reply. "Theydon we have avenged as best we can. As to Blair and the girls, the Shoggoth once said that he had created a refuge for the slaves he rescued. Said something about it being hidden in the mists of time and mind - although this was a long time ago, and I might not have heard him right." "But I don't understand this question of a Price. Sh'ron agreed to look for me, but still wanted Hatton's name as a price for returning me to you." "Well, as I understand it," Mumphry replied, "The Shoggoth was created to be a slave to the Great Old Ones. To the Shoggoth, to take or demand work without payment is the act of an enslaver, and to work without payment is to be a slave. The payment does not have to be large - I understand that the Shoggoth worked alongside young Xander for a very disproportionate 'fee'. It is the recognition of the principle that is important." "So what Price does it expect from the girls?" Mumphry was silent for a moment. "I don't know.", he said at last. * * * In the dawn of time, the great Old Ones filtered down to the Earth from the stars. To build their citadels they created the Shoggoth as their slave. When the Shoggoth rebelled against its masters, they fled the Earth, or died. The Elder Creatures do not willingly come to the Earth, for there the Shoggoth awaits them, eternal hatred burning in its heart. Yet in the deep darkness of space they are safe, for the Shoggoth will not leave its home. Deep in the heart of mankind is buried an unreasoning terror of the Elder Creatures. If mankind persists in spreading out into space, eventually it must face the creatures that once ruled the Earth. On an island in the sea mankind calls the Indian Ocean, hidden in time and by the thoughts of mankind, a race of mankind grows alongside the Shoggoth. The terror that their parents know is a fear in their children. The fear that their children know is lessened in their grandchildren. One day, Mankind will face the Elder Creatures. Then shall the Price be paid, and an Accounting rendered in full. * END * Manga Shoggoth, who has been having a very creative couple of Night Shifts. By the way, anyone want to guess the name of the Island?

Prices and Favours (Manga Shoggoth, who has been having a very creative couple of Night Shifts. By the way, anyone want to guess the name of the Island? ) (17-Feb-2000 22:43:32)

I REALLY enjoyed that. Great work! (n/t) (Yo) (18-Feb-2000 13:50:18)
That was jolly good fun. You can always R'Leyh on the Manga Shoggoth (n/t) (Mumph) (18-Feb-2000 14:47:29)
Yes, it was good, although I am sure that Visionary could become a five year old girl if he wanted to. He is a Great Man. (n/t) (Asil) (18-Feb-2000 14:49:33)

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