Hills of Madness
On our way to the Crickley Hill rendezvous Fox and I discussed what we had learnt and
it struck us that the cultists had probably been aware of our interest in their activities
ever since we burgled West’s flat. Therefore anything we had learnt since then might
be a plant, an attempt to trap us by drawing us to a location of their choosing for a
confrontation. This belief was reinforced by the fact the all of the earlier information
we had pointed to a ceremony being held much closer to midnight and probably down
at the ancient Neolithic site beneath the college’s student bar. The more we thought
about it the more sure we were that there was something suspicious about the ease
with which we’d discovered their hilltop meeting place. However we ultimately decided
that, although it would be worth mentioning it to our fellow agents when we got
together again, we couldn’t ignore this meeting because we would risk loosing track of
them if our guess about the college was wrong.
Agent Scott suggested that we meet up with the others at a pub called the “Air Balloon”
before we actually made our way to the hillside. When we did meet up Fox and I
outlined our fears concerning the possibility that a trap awaited us. The others were
not convinced, Billy in particular felt drawn to the hill by some mystic guide and was
sure that terrible things might occur if we didn’t intervene. Fox and I agreed but felt
that some sort of plan might be in order, but the others didn’t share this view so we
settled on the “muddling through” policy once again.
A short drive took us to a viewpoint high above Cheltenham and its near neighbour
Gloucester. The constellations of warm yellow street lights provided a welcome link to
civilisation but they were mocked from above by the naked stars, continually emerging
and fading back into the scudding grey white clouds. I had never looked at the
heavens with more trepidation than I did now, knowing that once sane men and
women believed that forces dwelt among those distant suns, forces god-like and
terrible. Still less comforting was the baleful, unblinking gaze of Aldeberaan, located
exactly where West had predicted.
Our unease turned to dread when faint plaintive cries were carried to us on the wind.
We made our way towards them but as we did so they changed their tone and became
a strange, inhuman chant. Speed was now of the essence so we made our way over
small hillocks and around obstructing trees, ever following that terrible sound. Creeping
over a low rise we could see them at last. The cult was clustered together on a strange
wooden platform and were screaming blasphemies into the night sky. From the
distance I was it was difficult to make out numbers but, silhouetted against the star
filled sky, with their arms and voices raised in praise of dark things there seemed all too
many.
Equipped only with my trusty Kodak there was little I could do but once again the
TOYmen came to the fore. Jones, Fox and Scott used the nearby bushes as cover to
creep closer to the cultists. As they did so the cult’s ceremony seemed to reach a
crescendo and indescribable alien sound echoed across the lonely English hilltop.
Jones later told me that it was at this point that he, Fox and Scott were waylaid by an
“alien” who seemed to emerge from nowhere, almost within touching distance of Jones.
They described a terrible beast, vaguely anthropomorphic but with long ropy tentacles
in place of arms and a huge bestial head. This horror shuffled slowly towards the
wounded Jones, reaching towards him with its terrible limbs but, with a supreme effort
of will the Welshman ignored his maimed leg and ran from this apparition. As he fled
the hillside echoed to the crack of pistols being rapidly fired, for both Fox and Scott
pumped round after round into the shambling creature, with little initial effect. The
horror absorbed enough punishment to stop ten men but, thankfully, the bullets began
to have some effect, first slowly it and eventually dropping the creature in its tracks.
Its haunting alien cry sounded once again as it faded slowly from sight.
While the TOYmen battled the Shambler the other cultists scuttled off, having
successfully sprung their trap. Before the Cultists could escape they were waylaid by
Billy who hurled a psychic attack at Alice, who was among their number. Unfortunately
Alice was apparently no mere cult member but some form of priestess or high acolyte
for her own occult might was more than a match for the plucky young Irishman and
she sent him away, momentarily stunned by the backlash from his failed assault. As
Patrick dragged Billy away I saw the cultists departing in a tightly packed group, I
considered waylaying them but didn’t like the odds so I watched as they departed and
then went to join the others.
Although we had triumphed over the creature it was obvious that our devious
opponents had led us into a trap. Luckily we’d managed to survive their terrifying
hunting beast and were now more resolved than ever to stop these deluded lunatics
before they could do any more damage.
Quickly making our way back to the cars it was decided that we should head back to
the safehouse to prepare for our final confrontation with Lux and his followers. The
climax to this evening of terror would come at midnight, where we were now sure the
cult leader and his followers would attempt to stage the “King in Yellow” in order to
summon one of these terrible star creatures from whatever distant hell it hailed. They
must be stopped!!! Billy and Patrick believed that disrupting the ceremonial aspects of
the play would be even more important than incapacitating the participants … an
assumption that seemed reasonable enough.