Eternal Lies: The Masks of the Liar

Episode XVI: Ashes to Ashes (Part 6)

Back in November of 1925…

…Chichen Xoxul stood in ruins. Jimmy and the others picked their way down the steep staircase to the Grand Plaza, which was choked with weeds and overgrowth. Fortunately they still had their machetes, so they began to hack their way through the forest.

[Outdoorsman spend here…by someone. Everyone had it by this point, I think.]

At sunset they stumbled into a poor Xoxul village. They were greeted by the elder of the village…a woman named Estrella.

Also visiting the village was an American archaeologist and his half-Mayan daughter, Nicole.

Everyone tried to hide their faces from the little girl. “We lost our way and got separated from our guide,” said Ruby.

“What a shame. Dr. Nathaniel Luke,” said the American.


“Juan,” said Geronimo.

“Well, I can get you folks up to Mérida if you want.”

“Thank you,” said Ruby. The village elder kept staring at Jimmy.

“What did you say your name was?” she finally asked him.

“Jimmy Wright.”

Estrella started to laugh to herself.

“We’ll meet again,” said Jimmy nonchalantly.

“Yes, yes we will!”

They discovered some problems with being in the past…such as their money not really being any good.

“I wish I could telegraph my father,” Ruby said bitterly.

“Great idea. Just explain how you’re in the Yucatan and at Barnard,” said Dr. Orange.

[All their Credit Rating was effectively three points lower. They also made a 1-point History spend to avoid accidentally talking about the future.]

“I could wire…I guess he was District Attorney-elect Grey in New York,” mused Jimmy. “Of course, he’s still in a wheelchair at this point.”

“I’m going to sell some jewelry,” said Ruby.

“Be careful, you might screw up the timestream…” began Jimmy.

“I bought all of this at an estate sale,” said Ruby. “So…how are we to know that this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen? Let’s assume it was, before we get headaches and nosebleeds.”

With that money they were able to book a steamer to New Orleans by way of Veracruz. Getting to Los Angeles took a bit longer than they were used to—train service wasn’t as extensive to the West at that point.

On the sleeper coach one night, Jimmy asked Ruby what she was doing at this moment in 1925. The earlier Ruby, he meant.

“I know what you mean. Hrm…getting kicked out of my third boarding school, I think. Also discovering boys and gin.”

“In that order?”

“I decline to say. You?”

“Somewhere in Shanghai, I think, meeting Lily…or maybe Singapore. Meeting Millicent’s mom for the first time.”

They lived rough, staying in the cheapest flops, living rough when they could. Jimmy began to grow an especially fierce beard. Millicent and Dr. Orange spent some time studying the rubbings they had made of the golden tablets they had recovered from the SS Mérida.

[1 point Library Use spend by MP.]

Dr. Orange concentrated on what looked suspiciously like field equations. For Millicent, however, what emerged was a fascinating story that seemed somehow related to certain Gnostic myths.

If a hole was rent in space and time, and a being bound heavily to spacetime—the Demiurge, or Yabaoleth, it seemed—and a specially prepared human was present, that human would become “The Render of Veils” also known as Daoloth.

And that would create a singularity, according to Dr. Orange, which would destroy the universe.

[I let the players make Cthulhu Mythos spends to create a “vs. Ritual” pool at the rate of 3 points of Ritual pool per CM point spent. JP and MP each spent 1 point…then even more, when MP realized that Cthulhu Mythos was an Academic skill and could be refreshed using her “Student” ability—basically, the same as the Reporter ability.]

“Well we know where and when this will happen even if we don’t know who will be there,” mused Millicent. “The night of January 13, 1926.”

“Wait a second,” said Jimmy. “Why didn’t I see this before? What time would that have been in the Indian Ocean?”

“If the ritual began when the blackout happened…around noon on the 14th.”

Jimmy groaned. “That’s when the gate opened…when I did that thing…oh God, this is my fault…”

They reached Los Angeles the day before Christmas Eve, 1925. Colored lights were strung on palm trees. In the speakeasies, bands played carols in jazz time.

They found a fleabag hotel near the railroad station. Jimmy spent a day or two seeing if he could get invited to one of Echevarría’s party. He finally found a couple of socialites who could arrange it.

“They like guys like you,” one explained to him. “You know, tough guys.”

“Gangsters,” said the other socialite.

Jimmy gave them a wolfish grin.

“Do you think you could score a case of Canadian for us as well?”

“Sure,” said Jimmy. He’d read Bernie Ohls’ notes on rumrunning in the 1920s, so he had a pretty good idea where he could hijack a shipment.

“You’re going to love this party,” oozed the first socialite. “They’re like nothing else in the world.”



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