The Third Empire - An Imperial France AAR

Forget the rituals, virgins and goats! Great Cthulhu only accepts cash!

Fiftypence said:

Well, there's still the goat I suppose. I think this AAR really needs an update, cthulhu, if only to stop the madness.

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The next update is almost done. It will be posted tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest. Scout's...I mean Great Old One's honor!

I promised an update tonight at the latest, and here it is. I haven't had time to proof read it, but I hope it's in decent shape.

Charenton Military Prison (former Charenton Mental Institution)
Saint-Maurice (Southeastern suburbs of Paris), The French Empire
3rd August 1941


He opened his eyes. It was still dark. Had he heard something? A voice perhaps? He was not sure, but usually when he was awakened like this, with a strong foreboding feeling, something would happen. He had felt it the day he was caught too and if he had not been as hung-over as he had been, he might have heeded the warning and escaped the law. Instead he had been dragged out of one of his apartments located in the slum, wearing nothing more than a bloodstained bath robe, while neighbors gawked at the spectacle from their doors. He had felt real fear when he realized than the men arresting him were not police men at all, but army soldiers. There will be no trial he had though, but he was mistaken, there was a trial, a trial which had baffled him. It had been a military tribunal, but the top secret court records showed that the dialogue would have been more at home in the dungeons of the holy inquisition, hundreds of years ago. Who could have guessed that the state would be persecuting his kind in this day and age?! If he had known, he’d kept a much lower profile…or would he have? His master was not to be denied, the price for power was the slaughter of innocents. Suddenly the urge to kill, maim, and punish anyone who got in his way rose and he let out an almost animal-like, guttural noise. Yes…ordinary humans were just cattle to be slaughtered in honor of his master and to empower him. The sorcery he had been taught was crude and messy, and although he had been sickened by his acts in the beginning, the rewards were plenty and rich, and with time he had come to enjoy and treasure the ‘work’.

Suddenly, he could hear how a key clanked in the lock of the door at the end of the corridor. Then the squeaking hinges as it was open and the steps of approaching guards. He wasn’t worried; they were clearly learning valuable things from the interrogations. The young lieutenant was clearly sickened by the answered he received, and that gave him some satisfaction. But disgusted or not, they needed him and the world he knew, the underbelly of the great metropolis that was the French capital. The denizens of this shady world - mobsters, pimps, prostitutes, thieves, beggars, drug dealers – they all feared him. He might not have been king, but he was feared by all, a demon to placate. No one would dare stand in his way… Surprisingly enough, the steps stopped at his cell, which immediately bathed in light. He groaned, no this, not night interrogations, did they think he was hiding something? He was glad to tell them all, and he really treasured night time, when he could relive his delicious deeds.

“On your feet, Daumay!” The guard barked behind him. He rose slowly from his bunk and let the blanket fall on the floor, the old petty defiance, but for the first time the guard ignored it. For some reason, that provoked a sinking feeling in his gut. His instincts again…

“You are Gaspar Daumay” This was more a statement than a question, but he could see that the man was surprised. Most likely, the other man, the officer, had read his file and had expected a huge man with a grotesque face, a beast, only just passing as fellow human being. But he was short and lightly built, with a face that was quite bland. A face people easily forgot, which was perfect for what he was. “Yes, I’m Gaspar Daumay.”

“Good. I’m Major De La Croix. I have orders to bring you to Paris immediately.” The man looked intently at him, the light gleaming in his slicked back black hair. It was not often he met a man who could meet his gaze for any longer time. This one was different. It felt like the cold eyes of a predator was watching him. He felt fear now, fear of almost the same magnitude as when the master was near, at the completion of the rituals. He resented it, after all, he was supposed to be the monster and humanity was his prey.

The guard’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Alright Daumay, you heard the Major, get your clothes on.” Oh how he wished he had a sharp object…then he could teach this dog a lesson. He put on the prison garb, “face the wall, get on your knees and put your hands on your head.” He complied and the guard opened the cell door behind him. He felt the gun in the back of his head and then his hands were brought behind his back and cuffed. “On your feet, Daumay, slowly.”

De La Croix and the guard escorted him out of the prison. The building had seen extensive repairs since the ‘riots’ among the mental patients, but it was as grim and foreboding as ever. They reached the empty courtyard where De La Croix’s Packard stood parked. The guard saluted the Major and returned into the prison building. “Why are you taking me to Paris, Major?” he asked while wondering where the escort was? He felt insulted, only one man to guard France’s most dangerous mass murderer?

De La Croix smiled, “We’re not going to Paris, Daumay. I do need your help with something, and if you surprise me, you’ll be free to go.”

He stared at the office dumbfounded, what kind of game was this? “Let me guess, you need my help to catch a criminal?” He flashed a superior smile, enjoying the returning feeling of importance.

The Major looked disgusted at his reaction. “Not really, I need your help in a personal matter. I will explain more when we arrive at our destination.” The officer opened a car door to the back seat and motioned for him to enter. He complied, thoughts raced through his mind. What could it be? De La Croix got in behind the wheel, started the engine and turned to look at him. “Oh, and don’t try to remove the handcuffs or some other nonsense, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He was close to laughing in the officer’s serious face, but managed to suppress his mirth. Oh, how he longed to skin this pig alive! The car drove up to the gate house, and he could see one of the guards checking the paperwork. “It’s only you?” a beam from a flashlight moved around in the car, “Yes, don’t worry Corporal.” The guard returned the papers, “well, I’m glad to know you finally decided to finish off that bastard.” Panic spread in him, they had decided to kill him?! Then why this clandestine way, why not a firing squad in the courtyard like the other he had heard about? “Shut up, Corporal” he could hear De La Croix hiss. “Sorry, sir. You may pass.” The corporal moved back from the car, and they sped into the night.

They drove for a while, passing farms and small villages before stopping in a woody area. De La Croix exited the car and opened the door motioning for him to come out. He got out and looked around. What the hell did they do here? He wasn’t very fond of the countryside, the streets of Paris was his hunting ground. The Major grabbed his handcuffs and steered him into the small forest, along some path. He was astonished how the man could find his way in this darkness. They walked for a short while and then reached a glade. He felt the De La Croix removing his hand cuffs. He turned around and could barely make out the officer’s features in the weak moonlight. “Alright, you are free to go.”

He stared at the dark silhouette, “You wouldn’t shoot me in the back…you people have a thousand better ways of making me disappear and you certainly don’t need excuses. What are you up to?” Then he realized that the French officer was hastily unbuttoning his uniform jacket. “You know, De La Croix, you’re undoubtedly an attractive man, but I’m not into men…” His joke fell flat; he hated the feeling of being vulnerable…and afraid again.

“Stop babbling, Daumay, and start running!” Came the cold reply as the officer moved the gun to his left hand and then dropped the jacket on the ground. He started running away from the apparently mad officer, but after a hundred yards, he turned to the right and ran in the direction of the road. Miraculously he reached the road without tripping on something in the vegetation. He felt some relief that he reached the road - whatever games De la Croix wanted to play, he wouldn’t play by the rules. The sense of relief was short lived; suddenly he heard a terrible howling come from the glade behind him. What the hell?! There hadn’t been any wolfs in these part for over a hundred years. Intense fear rose in him and it drove him on as he ran along the road. He knew in the core of his being that the beast was after him and that it wouldn’t lose it’s pray – him. Images of all the people he had butchered flashed by in his mind, but instead of pleading for their lives or grimacing in pain of the horrible…no, the delicious, torture he had inflicted on them, they were smiling mockingly at him, their eyes filled with hate and glee at his approaching doom. He dismissed the vision of his demented mind. This would not be the end of him! He had held Paris in a grip of fear – what were some trained hounds or wolves to him? After all, he was one the master’s favored ones, and as such who could stop him?

The answer appeared between some trees on the right side of the road, no more than twenty yards ahead of him. The huge black-furred horror turned snarling toward him and he stopped in his tracks, frozen by the visage of the terror front of him. He wished the merciless moonlight wouldn’t reveal the snarling beast in all its hideous glory as it approached him slowly - the cruel and intelligent eyes, the maw with its huge fangs, and the monstrous claws. Finally, the instinct to flee kicked in, and he turned around and started running, but his fate was sealed. He was slammed to the ground and the monster ripped a large chunk of muscle out his shoulder. The pain was unbearable and he cried out to his master. But the presence that had been with him since the day he had begun his ‘work’ was gone. It had no use for him anymore…