Lost Herald: Chapter Six
Getting back to reality in the Delta Green RPG, using Mythic 2e
Published by arrangement with the Delta Green Partnership. The intellectual property known as Delta Green is a trademark and copyright owned by the Delta Green Partnership, who has licensed its use here. The contents of this document are ©SolumProtocol, excepting those elements that are components of the Delta Green intellectual property.
Thumbnail Photo by Fidan Nazim qizi: https://www.pexels.com/photo/serene-candlelit-evening-by-the-window-29139702/
The Plateau of Leng
Bao began muttering to himself and waving his hand as the mural on the wall erased and recreated itself, this time creating the Palmer’s cramped basement that I had been in not so long ago, blessedly free it’s long limbed, monstrous resident.
“You should clean up.” Palmer said softly at my shoulder. I glanced at her, and she flinched away, unable to hold my gaze. “If anyone form the Program sees you like this…” she said, gesturing at my face. I brushed my fingers across my chin, and they came back bloody. I shrugged awkwardly.
“I would hope they would be too astounded that I had found our missing person.” I said, nudging her with my elbow. She didn’t smile, just frowning down at her hands.1
“I didn’t know I was missing.” She mumbled, following me to a basin of water with a small piece of reflective glass over the top. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection and tried not to shudder. Blood coated my mouth and chin, starting to cool as it dripped slowly onto my vest, but that wasn’t what made me uneasy. My eyes are a run of the mill shade of brown. I knew that. But right now, they burned a bright, burnished gold, the black if my pupils tiny pinpricks. I had seen flecks of yellow in the mirror, usually after something nasty, but this was unequivocally, unnatural gold. The similarity to the eyes of the creature I had just killed was a little hard to ignore.2 I splashed water on my face, and swirled some around my mouth, and the water in the basin turned ruby red.
“What do you mean, you didn’t know you were missing?” I asked, glancing back at her over my shoulder. “Even if you didn’t know the Program was observing you, you had to figure that people would clock you’d been missing for nearly a week?” Palmer avoided my eyes and shrugged. She had her arms wrapped around herself, as though she was trying so hard to hold herself together she needed to physically support her center.
“Time moves differently here.” She said vaguely. “I woke up here an hour ago, maybe two at a stretch, before you found me.”
“You’ve been missing for a few days, at least.” I scoffed
“I’m certain.” She said firmly. “I’m certain, because the time before that is… a lot more spotty.” I glanced in the mirror. My eyes were brown again, thank Christ, so I stood and turned to face her.
“Your memory is spotty, but you’re sure you’ve only been here a few hours?” I said, allowing my tone to emphasize the disbelief.
“It’s hard to explain.” She said vaguely.
“It’s not me you have to explain it to Palmer.” I said calmly. ‘The Director for Security has taken an interest. She’s the one that bought us out here”3
“Shit.” She said. “I didn’t even know we had directors.” She fretted at the cuff of her jacket, and then she started talking, spilling the whole story to me. As much of it as she understood anyway.4
Palmer had been on edge since the summer of 2005.5 Clyde Baughman’s cabin in the woods had been a treasure trove of information, but she had been content to see it burn until she found the photograph. An old color print of a person of interest from a case from 1969. Palmer still had the picture with her, and she reached into her inside pocket, and unfolded it. The picture showed a woman, seemingly in her mid to late 30s, in plain office worker garb, with a briefcase and sunglasses held in each hand. I glanced up at Palmer. The resemblance was almost comical.
“This is you.” I said. She smiled sadly.
“Not quite.” She said “The women of my family all bear a striking resemblance. I’ve been told it's quite disconcerting. My mother looks almost exactly like me but with grey hair and a terrible taste in glasses frames.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste and pointed at the timestamp. “Besides which, this is 6 months before I was born.”
“Huh.” I said, peering at the photograph again. It really did look exactly like her. The hairstyle and fashion were off, but not by much.
“Logically, it should be my mother, given the age.” She said grimly. “But it isn’t. This is my grandmother, I’m certain of it.6 The problem is, my grandmother died in 1957. I’ve seen the death certificate. I’ve also seen the last photo my mother has of her, in black and white, from 1955.” She unfolded another photo. This one was almost exactly the same, down to the 50s bob, office attire and slightly absent expression.
“Huh.” I said, again.
“You can see why I would be interested.” She said firmly, her eyes suddenly ablaze. “My grandmother’s death was very suspicious. My mother used to tell me about it all the time. A bungled investigation, missing evidence and a host of other missing persons in the area. But my mom saw her body in the morgue. She died in Montana, not 5 miles from her house. The same house I’ve been living in the last few months.”
“Is this about all those missing people?” I asked, remembering all of the files and folders in the living room of Palmer’s house. She nodded.
“Those people went missing for a reason.” She said. “I’m sure something from our line of work was responsible. I think it abducted them, possible killed them and disposed of the body. I think it tried to kill my grandmother, failed and something weird happened. People have been doing what we do for decades. The more I learn about this world, the more sure I am it was connected.”
“Something weird?” I repeated drily. Even by our standards, that was pretty vague. The energy she had been building up seemed to leave her as she sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“I tried to get the team involved, and I even went to Nolan, but..” she trailed off. “The pressure was a lot. Investigating in my down time, on top of everything work and everything else. I’ll admit it, I got obsessive.” she let out a long breath. “Look, I don’t know what happened. Something started happening to me just before Christmas, something I still don’t understand. All I know is that I would wake up, and I was bone tired, missing time and covered in dirt, or sweat or blood. It started happening more and more. I lost days. Gaps in my journals and my thought boards and theories would fill up with unfamiliar handwriting. My investigation changed. I don’t know when. What started as a ‘What happened to my grandmother?’ became ‘Find my grandmother’ and then, a few weeks ago, ‘free Grandmother’.”
“And where was she?” I asked, already feeling like I knew the answer.7
“Somewhere called the Ice Cave.” She said. “Its a holding and research facility, I’m not sure where. I came to myself after 3 days holding the floorplans, and that was when I started to get scared.”
“That’s when you started to get scared?” I asked with barely contained disbelief. She glared at me, and I felt a wave of tangible anger come off her.
“Something has been fucking with my mind Kat, I could use a little bit less judgment!” She hissed. Bao looked disapprovingly over his shoulder at us, before resuming his ritual.
“You’re right.” I said softly. “I’m listening.” She made an irritated, huffing sound before continuing in a low voice.
“My grandmother is alive.” She said, “She’s been in my head, puppeting me around to try and free her. I barely remember the last month, just flashes of cognizance and a few nightmares that I think might actually be memories. But when I came here, it stopped.” She shuddered. “I remember falling through a wall, or a painting, but I wasn’t in control, it felt like I was locked in my own mind, watching my body move without being able to do a damn thing. I remember a feeling of surprise, and betrayal and then a feeling of being torn apart, and then.” She snapped her fingers, her eyes wide. “I was me again. Fully me, for the first time since last year.” She wrapped her arms around herself again. “I have no idea what I’ve been doing. If I’ve hurt someone, or worse?” I saw the damn she had built start crumble, a tear running unbidden down her cheek before she finally broke, and tears spilled down her face and her shoulders shook in silent sobs. I pulled her into an embrace, forgetting for a moment the blood spattered on the front of my riot gear. She didn’t seem to mind. Bao cleared his throat, his irritation clear as he glanced at us, but I shot him a glare as Palmer continued to weep.
Palmer pulled herself together, and we discussed a few options. Her chances of surviving our return were slim. Hell, if Montford was right, the whole team was about to be summarily executed just for knowing that the Ice Cave existed. I couldn’t think about that now. We had to focus on one thing at a time. Bao impatiently let us know that it was time for us to leave, and it had been that time for quite a while, judging by the speed at which he was tapping his expensive shoes on the floor. As we walked towards the mural, he placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered softly in my ear.
“For both of our sakes, Huntress, I pray that we never meet again. Adieu”8
Palmer Residence
Walking through the mural was easy this time, with barely any sense of disorientation.9 I had a moment to wonder if that should be concerning when Palmer buckled next to me, falling to one knee and dry heaving.10 I glanced around the basement, but the room was clear so I dropped to a knee to check on her. She waved me off and dragged herself to her feet, squinting around the basement.11
“Why is there blood on the floor?” She asked tightly.
“There was a circle of binding here, do you not remember?” I asked. Palmer’s shoulders were tight as she gave a sharp shake of her head.
“My knowledge of any sigil or glyph is purely theoretical, and something I would avoid whenever possible. Are those bones?” She added faintly.12 I had a split second of amusement before I saw the blood and chalk scuff along the ground. I pushed Palmer behind me and scrambled backwards. I felt something wrap around my chest, pinning one of my arms against my body and wrapping around to my neck. I snarled and swore at the creature, running my hand along the invisible form wrapped around me to try to find something I could hit, or gouge, but my hands slid off the skin and I started swearing.
“Kat, what the hell?” Palmer said, blinking at me owlishly. In retrospect, I must have looked ridiculous, but in the moment I was trying to stop the damn thing from choking me.
“Invisible. Fuck.” I grunted, trying to find a a point of leverage.13 The skin was oily, certainly the same creature that I had found earlier, which meant that its teeth were likely inches away from my face.14 I felt a rising sense of panic as I felt a stabbing pain in my torso. I let out a scream, followed by Palmer’s scream as teeth punched straight through my Kevlar vest, and into my abdomen. My breathing came fast as I was lifted slightly into the air, blood pooling down my leg as the teeth gnashed against my muscle and bone.
“What do I do!?” Palmer asked, her voice frantic.
“Pistol.” I said, pointing at my waist. Both my arms were being crushed against my body, but I was able to gesture vaguely towards my belt. “Shoot in front of my arms. Hurry!”15 Palmer nodded and scrambled at my waist, pulling the pistol clear and pointing it at the space just in front of me.16 There was a bang, and the teeth in my midsection tightened as the bullet lodged momentarily in the air in front of me before disappearing.17 I lashed out with my free hand, gouging my thumb into a place I had seen the bullet disappear, and my thumb pushed through the slimy flesh and I felt blood pump around the digit. I strained my body and dug the thumb in deeper, and the jaws loosened enough that I could worm my way back a handful of steps. Palmer swore as she fired again.18 The bullet performed its vanishing act again, and I realized I had a split second to make a choice. I still had a pouch of dust in at my waist, so I could render the thing visible, assuming I hit it. With its one advantage gone, I was sure the two of us could dispatch it easily, given how quickly the other one had died. On the other hand, my blood was pounding, I was angry and I was so, goddamned, impossibly tired that I didn’t want to play it smart, or safe. I raised my SMG, flicked off the safety and fired a short burst.19 One bullet buried itself in the wall on the far side of the room, but the other two hovered in the air in front of me before shimmering and disappearing.20 I moment later I felt a crack along my helmet, knocking me off balance and causing me to take a step backwards. The blood and chalk on the floor smeared as the I heard the creature begin to retreat. It was fleeing, I was sure of it, and I felt my teeth clench as the smell began to recede. Palmer shot the pistol again, but the bullet hit the wall, sending a small spray of chipped stone around the basement’s exit. I scanned my SMG around the room, but I could tell, both by the silence, and the musty smell of the basement that the thing was gone.
“What the fuck was that?” Palmer said shakily. I checked my ammo and returned the firearm to its cinch on my back while I filled Palmer in on the strange stone statue I had found in the guest bedroom, and it’s invisible guardians.21 “I’m going to have to move out.” She said despondently. “There’s too much of her here now.” I shrugged, and then winced in pain, feeling more blood leak out the gash in my stomach.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”22
“I used to. We’ll have to see if it was left unmolested.” She led me up into the house proper, grumbling at the state of the place, although it looked cleaner than when we had arrived. It was pitch black outside, and the small clock in the kitchen, inlaid with boggle-eyed black kittens, reported that it was coming up on Midnight. Palmer sat me down and filled up a small kettle with water, muttering about tea before she reached into one of the cupboards and retrieved a small but well stocked trauma kit. She handed it over to me before she continued rummaging around the kitchen.23 I stripped my shirt off and poked at the wound in my side. A fresh network of punctures made a jagged arc from my belly button to my hips, but luckily the wounds weren’t deep. I cleaned them as best as I could, loading my midsection with gauze and clean bandages before pulling my shirt back on. I inspected my SWAT armor, which was torn, bloody and in all around rough shape.24 It looked to be in serviceable condition, even with the row of punctures along the side, so I pulled it back on. Palmer put down a mug of tea in front of me, as well as a small bottle of whiskey. She poured a heavy dose into her own steaming mug and chugged it, heedless of the scalding temperature. I blew on my own cup and watched her.
“We have a few problems.” I said delicately.
“Are you referring to my impending death sentence, the infestation of my family home by invisible monsters or some other fresh hell that I’m not yet aware of?” She asked, with admirable calm.
“All of the above”
“Perfect.”
The team was gone. Checking out the window, I could see the two black vans had vacated Palmer’s front lawn and while I would have to do a quick search of the house to confirm it, they seemed to have have taken everything vaguely occult and unnatural with them because of the second problem facing us - The CIA team Landry had discovered that currently inbound to our location.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea why the CIA would have an interest in you?” I asked.25 She took a long moment to respond, her eyes going cloudy as she took on that familiar absent expression of hers, but eventually shook her head.
“Outside my involvement with the Program, I’m just a college professor. A good one, I like to think, but not exactly an enemy of the state. The parts of my investigation I recall might have turned up flags with the FBI or State police.” She smiled apologetically. “I may have ‘stolen’ a few of their files on the missing persons, trying to track down the source of the disappearances.” She had held up her fingers in air quotes around the word ‘stolen’ but I decided not to investigate that further. She continued after a long sip of tea. “But the CIA? I have no idea.” I tapped my fingers on the table as we sat with that a while.
“How do you feel about faking your death and living off the grid?” I asked.26 She chuckled.
“I’m an academic.” She said, her eyes bright with genuine mirth. “The hypothetical sounds wonderful, but in practice they would find me half starved and dying of exposure within the month.”
I didn’t know what the CIA wanted with her, but I was sure it was nothing good, and if it related to the unnatural, it was my responsibility to keep her away from them. But I was sure Oakes had a death sentence waiting for Palmer the moment I reported in with our missing operative. We needed an in, to state Palmer’s side of things and try to get the higher ups on side. I sighed, pulled out my cellphone, and dialed Landry.
Palmer being not only alive, but mostly sane was genuinely not on my Bingo card for this mission when I set it up. Playing through the prompts as the mission progressed, I started to form the ‘Palmer’s Grandmother’ theory in a week long stint between sessions, and did a simple 50/50 roll to see if all the stuff I had though of so far was right. I usually like having things discovered on a more question by question basis, but I was feeling impatient. Let me know if you think there are any plot holes! We have the finale of Lost Herald coming in the next post. Thanks for reading, and drop a comment or a message if you like what I’m doing!
Oracle: Does she want to talk about it? Likely 60 - Yes
Sanity(Unnatural): 24/44 0 Sanity Lost
Oracle: Does she know who that is? Likely- 76 No.
Not many oracle questions coming up. The clues in the house were so all over the place, and the thrust of the main investigation was over, I just tried to create a background here that made sense and used the clues as they had been found. I think it works.
See Prologue
Oracle: Is she supposed to be Dead? Likely 54 yes.
Oracle: Does Palmer know? 50/50 01 Extreme yes. Random Event CC Repair Events
End Scene Chaos Factor 4 Test Scene - 10 Scene as Expected
Oracle: Has any time passed? 50/50 33 Yes. Random Event. NPC Action Stealth Creature. Attack? 50/50 05 Extreme Yes
Oracle: Anyone else in the basement? 50/50 99 Extreme no.
Oracle: Does she remember the basement resident? 99 Extreme no.
Skill: Alertness - 17. Dodge 53. Enemy attack - 52 Fail. (for a reason best known to past Solum, I didn’t include the skill targets in these checks. apologies.)
Skill: Unarmed - 90/68
Enemy Attack: Bite (+20 due to pin) 68/70. 7 DMG. AP 2 = 5 DMG taken. Sanity: 58/44. 1d4 = 1 Sanity Lost
Lost of forgetfulness here, as Palmer actually has her own pistol.
Palmer Skill: Firearms: 25/40 = 9 Damage Oracle: Does it let go? Unlikely- 83 No.
Opposed Test: Unarmed 64/66 VS 49/50 (Both Succeed, but Kat’s result is higher)
Palmer Skill: Firearms 33/40 Critical Hit. 17 Damage
Skill: Firearms: 21/74 - 16 DMG (Is it dead? Very Likely - 85 No.
Enemy Attack: Attack - 21/50 2 Damage - Absorbed by armor.
Oracle: Does she know about it? Unlikely - 74 No.
Oracle: Does she have a first aid kit? 06 Extreme yes.
First Aid: (+20% For Trauma Kit) 09/34 (I think there is a penalty to performing First Aid on yourself -20%, but by some miracle, it would have still be a success!) d4 HP = 3 HP Regained.
Oracle: Is it damaged? 50/50 82 - No.
Oracle: Does she? 50/50 42 No.
Oracle: How does Palmer feel about Operation Palmer Early Retirement? Good? Very Unlikely - 42 No
Another strong chapter. Plenty of intriguing plot lines coming to the fore. Looking forward to the conclusion to the operation.
I was on the edge of my seat!