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Mythos fiction tends to be well-stocked with mysterious tomes filled with enigmatic lore. When running a good Mythos adventure, you’ll often want to drop similar tomes into the hands of the players.

Broadly speaking, there are two structural functions these tomes can fulfill.

First, they can deliver a specific clue — i.e., you read the book and discover that athathan panthers can only be harmed in moonlight.

Second, they can provide a research resource. These are books like the Necronomicon, Nameless Cults, Tobin’s Spirit Guide, or The Revelations of Glaaki that are an arcane repository for a great mass of Mythos lore. Characters can refer to them time and time again across disparate investigations, and often find useful references.

TOME AS CLUE

If you want the tome to impart a specific clue (or clues), you might simply cut to the chase and give them the clue: “After staying up late into the night poring over the strange, bloodstained book you found on the altar, you unravel a ritual for summoning athathan panthers in exchange for human sacrifices. The victims must be sleeping and the ritual must be performed in moonlight, because that’s when the athathan are weakened.”

But this is also exactly what lore book props are designed for. That link will take you to a full description of how lore books work, but the short version is that they’re a kind of executive summary of fictional books. The experience of “reading” a lore book prop is more immersive for the players, particularly because you can embed the clues you want them to find in the description of the book, so that they can actually extract them from the text for themselves.

The trick with lore books is that, by their nature, they tend to deliver a lot of information in a single package. As a result, it can be easy for them to tip over into the neatly organized summary of what’s going on that we specifically want to avoid when designing Mythos scenarios. So you want to make sure, when writing Mythos lore books, that they remain a confusing and contradictory source text: A mythological understanding of mythology as transcribed by madmen. The longer text doesn’t necessarily bring more truth; it just gives a more dizzying array of mythological angles all looking at the same truth.

Another technique I’ve found useful is to identify one specific slice of the Mythos entity in question (i.e., the clue you’re trying to deliver), focus entirely on that one slice, and then build out a micro-story around it that’s largely or entirely unrelated to the rest of the Mythos entity. (For example, to convey some information about L’rignak’s strange matter, you could create a story found only in the unredacted, original manuscript of Sir Richard Burton’s Arabian Nights that deals with some orphan boys in Persia who find the strange matter in a cave and bring it home to the ruination of all who interact with it. The name L’rignak might not even be mentioned in this text.)

This technique can be quite effective at evoking the scope of the Mythos entity: The suggestion that it is not some new manifestation, but has rather always been entwined with human destiny. A great, strange mass which has made its presence felt throughout the world and history, but whose true immensity has never been glimpsed… until now.

TOME AS RESOURCE

The basic idea behind a tome that serves as a research resource, on the other hand, is that, if the PCs can rifle through the text, then it can help them to both “know” things and also figure things out. The exact mechanical representation of this will depend on the system you’re running (and possibly the tome in question), but a fairly typical structure looks like this:

Studying. Before the tome can be utilized as a resource, the PC must spend some time familiarizing themselves with it (e.g., a day, a week, a month, or until they succeed on a skill check of some sort).

Mechanical Benefit. Once the PC has studied the text, they gain a mechanical benefit when using it as part of a knowledge-type check. For example:

• They gain advantage on relevant checks.
• They gain a pool of points they can spend to enhance relevant checks. (Either once per scenario or a set pool that, when expired, suggests that the book’s usefulness has come to an end / the character has completely learned its contents.)
• The PC gains a permanent bonus to a knowledge-type skill or similar ability.

Usually a list of topics covered by the book determines which knowledge-based checks the book can be used to enhance. (For example, Tobin’s Spirit Guide might grant bonuses to checks related to the afterlife, undead, strange gods, and transdimensional travel.)

Cost. Books that reveal things man was not meant to know can be inherently dangerous, and it’s not unusual for studying a Mythos tome to inflict a cost (usually along the lines of lost Sanity or attracting the attention of powers who can sense those who know the Truth).

These tomes can also be presented as lore books, and, in fact, it’s ideal if they are. In addition to the list of topics covered by the book, you want to understand the nature of the book well enough that it can serve as a convenient vector for improvising where the knowledge came from. (Nameless Cults, for example, is primarily a study of cults by Friedrich von Junzt written in the 19^th century. So if, for example, the PCs pull information about werewolves out of it, then the GM might relate the information via a lycanthropic cult in Prussia.)

CREATING TOMES

Of course, some tomes might be both: They provide an initial clue relevant to the scenario where they’re first encountered, but can also serve as a general resource for future research. (In other words, the initial clue is built into whatever the fictional frame of the book is.)

As you’re creating your own tomes, I generally recommend not making any single tome so vast in its contents that it becomes universally useful. Unless you want one specific tome to be the pillar around which the campaign is built, it’s generally better to break information up and spread it across a multitude of sources: First, it motivates the players to continue seeking new knowledge. Second, the disparate sources given you a multitude of vectors for coloring and contextualizing information as it flows into your campaign. Third, this diversity in sources also makes it to improvise interesting angles for presenting the information. The more generic and all-encompassing a source becomes; the more it becomes a bland encyclopedia, it follows that referencing the work becomes more and more like a blank slate.

If you’d like to see copious examples of what Mythos lore books look like, the Alexandrian Remix of Eternal Lies contains literally dozens of them, including:

• Books of the Los Angeles Cult (both the UCLA Lot and Echavarria’s Library)
• Savitree’s Research
• Revelations of Glaaki (found in the Severn Valley props packet)

This vast number of tomes, however, should not be mistaken as model for how many lore books you need in your own campaign. The Alexandrian Remix is a special beast, and in practice a little can go a long way. In fact, it can be preferable for such lore dumps to be rare, making each lore book the PCs get their hands on a rare and precious prize.

On the other hand, for a truly hypertrophic of how far lore tomes can be pushed, consider the examples of The Dracula Dossier and The Armitage Files. The latter, designed for Trail of Cthulhu, is an entire campaign built around the players being given dozens of pages from “real” in-world documents and then puzzling their way through them to identify leads to pursue in their investigations. The former, designed for Night’s Black Agents, pushes the technique even further, “unredacting” the entire epistolary novel of Dracula and recharacterizing it as an ops file from British intelligence complete with marginalia and, once again, inviting the players to pore through the text to identify a multitude of leads.

I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this is not so surprising.

After all, everyone knows that reading a Mythos tome can drive one mad.

Mythos-style horror is a pervasive theme in RPGs. It’s tough to get it right.

On the one hand, you don’t want everything to fall into random weirdness. The essence of Lovecraftian horror is the slow discovery of a monstrous and palpable truth shrouded from human perceptions. Plus, it’s just not as much fun for the players when everything in a session is capricious. It’s difficult to have meaningful gameplay or player agency when the game world is incomprehensible noise.

On the other hand, the players also shouldn’t be able to achieve a perfect understanding of what’s happening, either. I’m usually a pretty big advocate of “prep stuff so that you can show it to your players” – if you’re making something cool, let the players in on it! – but the Mythos is an exception. Perfect understanding of the Mythos renders that which should be too vast for human comprehension into mundanity.

The Mythos is also not the only place such ineffability may be desirable. For example, Numenera takes place a billion years in the future, after eight mega-civilizations which mastered incomprehensible technology have risen and fallen on Earth. The default setting is a Renaissance of sorts, in which mankind searches through the numenera – the broken technological remains of these mega-civilizations – while being unable to truly understand it. In this, Numenera is a sort of inverted Mythos, possessing the same sense of enigma, but generally (although not always) filled with hope instead of horror.

Regardless of tone, the technique I use for Mythos-style revelations is to think of them as three layers.

LAYER 1: CANONICAL TRUTH

For each Mythos element, start by clearly and concisely summarizing the “definitive” truth of it. Because this is Mythos stuff, this will still be weird, supernatural, mind-bending, alien to human thought, and probably even self-contradictory, but it’s your personal canon.

For example:

L’rignak is a multidimensional creature that lives in the heart of neutron stars. It seeks to colonize other stars. It also creates Great Attractors, either to form new neutron stars or to create whatever the structure is in the Laniakea Supercluster. (Is this an even greater mass into which it hopes to seed its consciousness some day? Or perhaps it’s already its seat of consciousness and the neutron stars are merely nodes or perhaps incubators for its offspring?)

Given proper conditions, L’rignak can open microscopic portals to the heart of its neutron stars. Strange matter erupts from these and they usually affect local gravity in strange ways. In our local spacetime, its greatest goal is to alter the sun (possibly be seeding it) to become an attractor (or otherwise start its impossible path to becoming a neutron star).

L’rignak’s cultists often speak of a time “when the sun’s light is made right.”

This is your lodestone, and it will keep you oriented even when “reality” transcends into the incomprehensible. It’s a guide that you can refer to and extrapolate from when prepping and running your scenarios. It’s scripture that lets you ask, “What would L’rignak do?” It’s the bedrock that everything else will be built on.

But the players will NEVER discover this plain, definitive truth.

LAYER 2: THE LENS OF MYTHOLOGY

Instead, you’ll break your canonical truth into chunks – i.e., each definitive statement or fact about the Mythos element. Then you’ll want to mythologize each chunk.

What I mean is that, for every chunk, there should be multiple interpretations, and these interpretations should be arcane, alien, and ineffable. Think of yourself as the blind men trying to describe an elephant — one grasps its trunk and describes it as a snake; another the legs and says it’s a tree; a third its ear and think it’s a kind of fan. You are trying to express TRUTH, but you can only do so through an imperfect lens.

To approach this mythological quality in a more practical way, it may be useful to think in terms of:

Paradox. Describe Mythos elements in impossible dualities. A darkness that illuminates; a vast, bulking mass of solidity that seems to float and ooze over the rocks; a warm glow that inflicts hypothermia. The impossibility, of course, is the point. The paradox cannot be resolved. Or, more accurately, it cannot be resolved within the limits of our human senses and science.

Dialectic. Along similar lines, think in terms of a truth reached through the resolution or confrontation of contradiction. When pointing your double-slit spotlight at the strange matter of L’rignak, for example, don’t just give the PCs the notes of a scientist grappling with “elements unknown to human science.” Also give them the heretical Christian texts describing it as “the flesh of god”; the cultist’s mad ravings about “the apocalypse’s gift”; and the strange references in Nameless Cults to “manifestations of faerie circles.”

Ironic Specificity. You don’t need to reveal the totality of your Mythos element. (At least not now, and possibly not ever.) But, importantly, you want to do so in a way that hints at the whole which is never revealed.

For example, your L’rignak scenario might focus exclusively on the eruptions of strange matter in the Appalachian Mountains that are harvested, worshiped, and turned to gut-churning purpose by the ancient cults there. The star-born nature of L’rignak and its transgalactic agenda are never brought up, except that when the PCs first interact with the strange matter they have an immense, cosmic vision, the afterimage of which momentarily leaves the stars in the sky knit together in a kaleidoscopic quilt of lightless lasers; a darkness that illuminates and seems to sear their eyes before it breaks apart into dark globs and then fades into the small, black spots that always seem to float through your vision. (Invoking the cosmic dimensions of a Mythos entity, of which — like the tip of an iceberg — only a small part can actually be seen to manifest clearly in our local spacetime, is quite common with this technique.)

This specificity can also manifest in historical, arcane, or scientific sources the PCs pursue even when you’re intending for the PCs themselves to have a more holistic experience. You can imagine 19^th century scholars examining strange matter eruptions or Kepler’s secret notes documenting “strange novae,” with neither grasping that they’re only looking at an elephant’s trunk through a funhouse mirror.

Multiple Titles/Names. We label reality and give names to things because it gives us an illusion of control and understanding. We nail the winged thing to a bit of thick paper and label it a “dragonfly” and it’s no longer an enigmatic visitor from the realm of the fey, but rather something which has been fully compassed by our minds; classified, categorized, and neatly settled.

Defy this sense of understanding by invoking many names and titles for the same thing. L’rignak, for example, was known to the Aztecs as Tōnatiuh. They are also the Dark Star, the Psychopomp of Shapshu, and the Coming Night.

Parable, Allegory, Analogy. When the human mind struggles to grasp something, it will often try to find parallels within its experience to try to grapple with its meaning. This can easily give you a multitude of angles to approach the Mythos element from, but it’s also useful to think about useless and/or warped trying to apply an analogy of human experience to the fundamentally inhuman can be. (For example, don’t shy away from invoking paradoxical analogies.)

I find it can be particularly effective to think about how pre-Enlightenment science (or lack of science) might have attempted to grapple with these impossible truths. For example, modern science might talk about the “mutagenic effects” of some of L’rignak’s eruptions of strange matter, and how they rewrite mitochondrial DNA, creating a new structure that appears to enslave the host cell with chimeric properties. But older sources might describe them as a “fifth humour,” demonic possession, or the “font of godshead.” (Was the Oracle at Delphi a manifestation of strange matter?)

Confusion/Shaded Truth. The PCs are not the only ones incapable of understanding the Mythos element, so as they encounter other characters and sources attempting to describe it, it’s okay for a “truth” to be colored by falseness — apocrypha and flawed translations accumulating over centuries and corrupting the original statement.

This was the primary approach when the players in my In the Shadow of the Spire campaign wanted to research the name “Saggarintys,” which they had encountered in the Banewarrens. (SPOILER WARNING!) The true version of events was that Saggarintys the Silver King was a silver dragon who worked with the Banelord to construct the Banewarrens, a vast vault in which artifacts of great evil were to be sealed away from the world. The Banelord eventually became corrupted by one of the artifacts, betrayed Saggarintys, and imprisoned him in a cube of magical glass.

Saggarintys was not, therefore, an ineffable Mythos entity, but I knew that he had lived so long ago that any contemporary references they found would be fragmentary at best. So I could use a similar mythologizing process and when the PCs did their research, what they found was:

In the fragmentary remnants of the Marvellan Concordance there is a reference to “Saggarintys, the wanderer of the West” or “from forth the West” (depending on the translation). There is some speculation that this may indicate that Saggarintys is an archaic name for the Western Star.

(This is rooted in the fact that dragons came from the West in my campaign world. So Saggarintys was literally “from forth the West,” but this is then colored with the false conclusion that this is a reference to the Western Star.)

The name appears on Loremaster Gerris Hin’s list of “Allies of the Banelord.” A “Saggantas” is also referred to as the Secret Lord of the Banewarrens.

(Here the name has been corrupted into “Saggantas” and Saggarintys’ role as the Architect of the Banewarrens has caused his identity to become conflated with the Banelord. Note the multitude of names and titles.)

Saggarintys, the Silver King, is the name of a legendary sword said to be the Destroyer of Banes.

(The mythologization is heavy here: The seed of truth is that Saggarintys was opposed to the evil artifacts known as banes and may even have researched how to destroy them. I imagined chivalric tales interpreting “destroyer of evil” as obviously referring to some powerful weapon. Another influence here is the Sword of Truth, a holy artifact that was used in the construction of the Banewarrens and, thus, was another “enemy of the banes” that could have gotten mixed up with Saggarintys.)

A children’s rhyme from Isiltur describes Saggarintys (later shortened to Saggae or “Silver Saggae”) as a friendly spirit who lives in the Land of Mirrors and aids youngsters in need.

(Here the glass prison of Saggarintys is interpreted as a mirror and the context is shifted to a children’s story, naturally warping the nature of the narrative.)

LAYER 3: WHAT THE PLAYERS SEE

You’ve broken your canon into jagged, overlapping pieces and mythologized them, but this still isn’t what the players actually see at the table. Even if they conduct research at Miskatonic University, they won’t get a neatly organized fact sheet summarizing the mythology.

Instead, what they’ll find – through research, investigation, interrogation, or supernatural manifestation – are clues.

In fact, you can often think of all those jagged, mythologized pieces as a revelation list. Note that, even though these revelations are mythologized, they can still be practical and actionable (e.g., “go to a room without corners to avoid the Hounds of Tindalos”).

Like any revelation list, of course, you’ll want to respect the Three Clue Rule. However, as you’re crafting these clues, I recommend being a little more, let’s say, poetic than usual.

In the modern world we often think of poetry as just being “pretty words,” but the heart of poetry is the difference between comprehending something and apprehending something. Comprehension is when you rationally work your way to a conclusion, but apprehension is when you seize hold of a truth through a sort of instinctual sense. It’s the music that accompanies the lyric and a factor beyond the literal sense of the passage. It’s an intersection of ideas and also the transcendence of meaning.

The best clues often suggest a conclusion rather than spelling it out. What I’m suggesting here is that, for these Mythos revelations, you can consciously choose to evoke that suggestion instead of expecting logical inference. Perhaps moreso than with other revelations, I also recommend strongly differentiating the clues pointing to a single revelation, with each evoking the truth of that revelation in distinct ways. This will encourage the players to poetically synthesize the disparate imagery of those clues, creating “truths” that are grasped only in silhouette and which change and shift as each new clue is added to the picture.

This can also be extended to the revelations themselves. Sufficient mythological bifurcation might result in the same canonical concept becoming two “separate” revelations. (Such revelations might even contradict each other.) Maybe the players never realize the connection between these revelations, or maybe they can perform the intuitive dialectical leap and synthesize some common ground of “truth” for themselves (which may or may not resemble what you “know” to be the canonical truth those revelations were extrapolated from). Either way, mission accomplished.

As you can see from the examples above, it’s likely that the mythologization process itself will begin generating, or at least strongly indicating, some of these clues (e.g., there are references to L’rignak in Nameless Cults). In fact, as this suggests, the clues themselves will be formed from an additional cycle of mythologization. They should be indirect, arcane, and contradictory understandings of the revelations (which are, themselves, an indirect, arcane, and contradictory understanding of the “truth”).

The corollary to all of this is, once again, that the clues are the only thing the players will ever definitively learn. And so your players will ultimately be staring at a mythology (the obscured “truth” of Layer 2) through the lens of mythology (the clues of Layer 3). There are, therefore, multiple interpretations built atop multiple interpretations, which will naturally lead the players to begin creating their own interpretations, no two of which will perfectly align.

Perfect understanding becomes impossible, but it will also feel like it’s just out of reach. The players will feel as if they can surely come to grips with this forbidden knowledge… if only they stare into the Abyss a little longer.

And that, of course, is exactly what you’re looking for.

Go to Part 2: Mythos Tomes

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Character Backgrounds by Chris Malone

FATHER GUSTAV, CLERGY

Age: 60

Gustav Rand was born in Austria in 1865, the youngest boy in a large Catholic Family.  With little opportunity to distinguish himself above his brothers and sisters, he went to Seminary more as an eventuality than as a passion.  It wasn’t until he joined the Jesuit order that he found some semblance of a calling, travelling the world as a missionary.  Helping those in need and facing dangers with strength and faith connected him more to God than any scripture or devotional did.  His diligence and fortitude recommended him for some of the most extreme places in the world, as he traveled to Ethiopia, Brazil, Guatemala, Australia, and other remote places.

As he aged and his body began to tire, he began to seek other opportunities to explore and express his faith.  Father Rand’s exposure to numerous cultures granted him a degree of prestige within his order, and he could transition out of his missionary role and began a more scholarly calling.  In 1913 Father Rand took a teaching position at Boston College, teaching archaeology and anthropology while undertaking various expeditions.

In 1919 he traveled with several students and faculty on one such expedition to Libya and the ancient city of Cyrene near modern Bengazi.  It was here that Rand had his first encounter with obvious supernatural evil, as the unearthing of an ancient chamber resulted in release of an obviously violent entity that caused members of the dig to become violent and blasphemous.  Only with the assistance of Maggie Pearson, a prodigal student, and the strength of will were you able to successfully perform an ancient rite uncovered in scrolls at the site and banish the foul creature.  While many might have found these events a challenge to the faith, Rand found them affirming; he had always known supernatural evil exists.  What ended up shaking his faith was the response of his Order.  Upon filing a report and wishing to further examine the site and document the event, The Jesuit Order terminated the expedition and commanded Rand to destroy all evidence of what had happened, and commanded him to remain silent.

Rand did mostly as ordered, only retaining private notes and few of the scrolls that helped him bind and banish the creature.  Shortly thereafter Father Rand left the Jesuit Order and petitioned to become a diocese priest.  The Archdiocese of St. Paul had recently suffered significant attrition, and so he was assigned there.  Father Rand quickly insinuated himself into several philosophical circles and serves as an occasional guest lecturer at local colleges.  To his surprise, Maggie Pearson arrived in the Twin Cities several years after he did.

Through his connections to Max Bruener, a recent friend and lay student, Rand has found himself the most curious assistant in a private investigation firm run by Jake Connor.  Several years ago you were approached by Max to help parse out some writings that were found at the scene of several disappearances.  You helped identify the texts and continued with the case, surprised to find yourself again in the company of Maggie Pearson, who happened to be Jake’s cousin.  The case was most unusual; two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  Now the local police come to Jake and company with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Jake’s a veteran and a private investigator.  Father Rand finds Jake’s passion and energy refreshing, but sometimes finds himself frustrated with Jake’s lack of introspection and philosophical inquiry.  Regardless, Rand knows that Jake is courageous and respects his strength.

Maxwell Bruenner — Max is a wealthy young man in charge of a manufacturing business left to him by his father.  Max came to Father Rand during a spiritual crisis, seeking answers to the things he saw during the War and trying to understand his place in a seemingly cruel world.  Father Rand has helped to guide Max’s inquiry, encouraging exploration of the spiritual and the unseen, as opposed to coercing or suggesting that he become a Catholic.  This has formed a strong bond between the two.  The only real point of contention is Max’s vocal agreement and support of Prohibition, a point which you two disagree upon, but you feel much less passionate about.  You took on vows of poverty and celibacy, not sobriety.

Maggie Pearson — You first met Maggie in 1917 when she was a student in your Early Religions course at BC.  An apt student with energy and passion, you quickly became fond of the young girl distinguishing herself in a place that only just started allowing women to attend.  On the Libya expedition, she handled herself smartly, helping you eradicate the entity before it could cause serious harm.  Since your reintroduction to her in St. Paul you see her regularly, either when working cases with her cousin or on your regular Wednesday luncheons.

MARGARET “MAGGIE” PEARSON, SCIENTIST

Age:  26

Maggie grew up in Boston, the eldest of four daughters, in a middle-class family, her father a dentist with her mother at home.  Showing a strong mind with an aptitude for critical thought and quick wits, she claimed a place among the first class of female students at Boston College.  Despite the hostile environment, oppressive curfews, and constant scrutiny from the administration, Maggie thrived in an environment that rewarded her intellect and provided her new experiences.  Virtually all her professors were inimical towards her, save for one notable exception.

Her freshman year met Father Gustav Rand, a Jesuit who was teaching archaeology and anthropology.  He treated her fairly and with praise and encouragement, showing her respect and deference that few others would.  Even when not studying under Father Rand, Maggie would regularly meet with Father Rand and discuss her studies.

In 1919 Rand invited Maggie on an expedition to Libya.  With much cajoling, pleading, and threatening Maggie convinced her father to allow her to go, and it was there that she faced a life-changing event.  During the dig at Cyrene, near modern Bengazi, strange things began to happen.  Workers and other students acted violently, and several people became hurt.  After a horrifying experience where she felt the alien presence of some foul thing pressing into her mind, Maggie convinced Father Rand that a supernatural threat was present.  Working together, Maggie and Rand used some ancient scrolls and a bit of alchemical knowledge to destroy the entity.  Maggie returned to BC shaken, but confident in her strength and ability.

Shortly afterward, Father Rand left the Jesuit Order and Boston College.  While upsetting, this event only spurred Maggie on to finish her bachelor’s degree and leave that place.  Following her graduation from BC, she managed to land a graduate position at the University of Minnesota, where she teaches and studies today in pursuit of her doctorate in the Sciences.  Her decision to move to Minnesota was partly prompted by the fact that her father refused to let her go somewhere without family, especially without a strong male presence to guide her to make sure she remains virtuous.  To this end, her cousin Jake Connor serves as a chaperone and confidant.  A larger part of her decision was informed by her correspondences with Father Rand, and her desire to reconnect with him.

About two years ago Maggie began helping her cousin Jake with the private investigation business that he owns and runs.  During an odd case involving the disappearance of a couple of seemingly unconnected people, Maggie identified a rare sedative used on both victims, and used her resources to find the supplier (and purchaser) of that sedative.  The case turned strange, as the two people who disappeared were involved with an inner sect of the Freemasons, which turned out to be pursuing occult ritual and human sacrifice.  You and the others were able to disrupt the ritual and stop them, but only after one of the kidnapped victims were killed.  Since then you have been learning how to handle yourself in a fight and have helped Jake from time to time.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Your cousin Jake is a veteran of the War and a private eye.  He is protective of you and at times seems to regret his decision to involve you in his line of work.  You love him, but he can sometimes frustrate you with his superficial thinking.  His vehement anti-Prohibition rhetoric can sometimes get tiresome as well, as you find that the need to drink is a silly diversion from rationality.

Maxwell Bruener — Max is Jake’s friend and helps on cases sometimes.  While he seems kind and gentle, you have seen his strength and courage during the Freemason case when he charged into a room full of cultists and fought them off with his bare hands.  His philosophical inquiries are engaging, and overall you find him a pleasant enough fellow to spend time with.

Father Rand — Father Rand is more than a mentor or a professor to you, he is your confidant and guide.  At times you have wondered if you might have more than a reasonable amount of affection towards him, but you quickly squash these thoughts with study and diversion.

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Character Backgrounds by Chris Malone

I originally designed Left Hand of Mythos as a convention scenario for Gen Con 2017. It rapidly metastasized beyond that purpose and had to be rapidly abridged to fit within the four-hour convention slot.

My compatriot, collaborator, and co-GM at Gen Con that year was Chris Malone. To facilitate convention play, Chris designed four fabulous pregenerated Trail of Cthulhu characters. Following the best practices we had learned during the Cthulhu Masters Tournament, these included fully developed backgrounds for each character, including tightly knit relationships with each other to empower the players to seek strong, powerful roleplaying choices.

We ended up using these same characters for several other sessions at our local tables, including an adaptation of the classic “Edge of Darkness” scenario for Call of Cthulhu, which was restructured to feature the death of Father Rand.

DOWNLOAD THE CHARACTER SHEETS
(PDF)

JAKE CONNOR, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

Age: 29

Jake was born in Minneapolis to a Protestant family of Irish and English immigrants.  The eldest son (his sister Mary is the eldest of the family), expectations were set high for Jake and he constantly struggled to meet the expectations of his parents. While life was never easy for Jake as he was growing up, he never experienced true poverty.  Jake left school early to work a pair of jobs to support the family, and found himself struggling with the monotony of toil without the promise of something greater.  At the onset of The Great War Jake joined the Army in hopes of making a difference.  His parents were furious, and all but disowned him as he headed off to basic training.

Initially trained as an infantryman, Jake showed a flair for writing and photography and was detailed to the press corps where he served primarily as a cameraman, documenting the events of the war.  He was frequently detailed to create propaganda images and write messages to encourage the purchase of war bonds, as well as improve enlistment.  During one such assignments he was matched with Maxwell Bruener, the son of a wealthy young German industrialist who had “enlisted” to help improve recruitment among German-Americans.  A quick friendship was formed, and although they only spent several months together.

Through the detachment of the camera, Jake could distance himself from the horrors of the war and returned home afterwards plagued only by infrequent nightmares and a mild case of claustrophobia.  Upon his return to Minneapolis he worked for a short stint at the Minneapolis Tribune as a beat writer and photographer.  With the onset of prohibition, Jake wrote several scathingly critical anti-Prohbition articles which ultimately cost him his job, but endeared him to certain elements of the Twin Cities underworld.  With these connections beginning to form, Jake found himself able to find work investigating minor offenses in the criminal underworld and solving crimes that people would rather not bring to the police. He now runs a private detective business, making use of his excellent photographic skills to further his business.

Jake’s reputation has taken an odd turn after he solved a missing persons case several years ago.  Two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  Now the local police come to Jake occasionally with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Maxwell Bruener — Max and Jake have remained close friends after the war, and frequently spend time together.  Jake doesn’t always understand Max’s philosophical ramblings, and often argues with him over Prohibition (Max is a staunch advocate for the Volstead Act and Prohbition), Jake does appreciate Max’s enthusiasm and kindness.  Max proved himself to Jake during the Freemason investigation, as when the chips were down in the hidden sanctum, Max threw himself into the fray, fighting to stop the murder of an innocent.

Father Gustav Rand — Max introduced Jake to Father Rand some months prior to the Freemason as a good friend.  Unlike the clergy Jake had grown up with and met during the war, Rand showed himself to be a friendly, easy-going sort with a great deal of intelligence and wisdom.  During the Freemason case, Rand provided valuable insight into several clues linking evidence from the victim’s residences to the inner cult at the Masons.  Jake has grown to respect Rand’s input and value his council, even if he is a Papist.

Margaret Pearson — Maggie is Jake’s cousin, come over from Boston to get her doctorate in the Sciences from the University of Minnesota.  Looking to reconnect with his family and get back into their good graces, Jake has taken it upon himself to protect Maggie and ensure that she is not abused.  Against better judgement, Jake asked Maggie to help with examining some of the evidence during the Freemason case.  She was able to identify a unique sedative used during the abductions, and link it to a crucial suspect with access to it.  You find her forensic skills and apt mind invaluable in difficult cases.

MAXWELL BRUENER, DILETTANTE

Age: 35

The son of a rich German manufacturing magnate, Maxwell Bruener grew up in Minneapolis in relative ease and luxury.  His father, Jurig, was an overbearing and demanding man.  He detested Maxwell’s adventurous spirit and gentle heart, and was a strict disciplinarian, often resorting to physical punishment, especially when he was drunk.  Maxwell thrived despite his father’s frequent beatings and denouncements, and spent most of his youth and early adulthood exploring literature, the arts, and sports.

When America formally joined the War Jurig forced Maxwell son to enlist, hoping to either toughen him up and turn his mind to more serious matters or kill him off.  This idea was not kept a secret to Maxwell, as the last letter from his father during training read “come back a man in my own mold, or as a corpse to be buried”.  Despite his father’s insistence to Max’s commanders of fair treatment, Max was seen by elements in his command as a recruitment opportunity.  He had a member of the press corps, Jake Connor, assigned to him to document his time in the Army to drive recruitment of the somewhat reticent German-American population, as well as facilitate war bonds.  Jake and Max became fast friends, and spent many evenings sharing stories and ideas in good company.

Max avoided significant action in the War until he took part in the Third Battle of the Aisne in defense against the German Spring Offensive.  Ten days of shelling, gas attacks, mud, and death almost broke Max’s spirit.  Without Jake’s reassurance and strength, Max is certain he would have either died or come out of the war a much different man.  Max survived the Battle physically untouched, but was scarred by the experience.

In an ironic twist of fate, Max was called back home mid-May following the battle due to the death of his father, whose days of drinking had finally caught up to him.  With the affairs of the estate quickly put into order and business well-managed with little demand from Max, he found himself melancholic and desperate.  Max began filling his time with philanthropy and personal growth.  Home in time for the political machinations around the Volstead act, Max strong supported the temperance movement and the outlaw of liquor, pledging money, support and influence to the cause.  In addition to his altruistic and political engagements, Max began to participate in theosophical societies and delved into philosophical texts, even dabbling into the occult.  These explorations brought him into contact with Father Gustav Rand, a catholic priest who talked of religion in a way that encouraged Max’s exploration, without condemnation or proselytization.

At times Max helps Jake out with his private investigation work as a diversion into more exciting occupation.  Several years ago, you, Jake, Father Rand, and Jake’s cousin Maggie helped him clear a case that was most unusual.  Two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  During the fray, Max found strength and purpose, charging into the fray and fighting the cultists with vigor.  Now the local police come to Jake occasionally with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Jake is Max’s closest friend and confidant.  While Jake is disinterested in Max’s spiritual and philosophical musings, and they disagree vehemently on the matter of Prohibition, Max cannot imagine a better ally.  Max rarely feels more useful or competent than when he is working a case with Jake.

Father Gustav Rand — Father Rand is Max’s intellectual and spiritual mentor, allowing Max to explore the world of the unseen without prescribing his Catholic dogma or suggesting a right way of things, merely saying “I know you’ll come around to the right way of it sooner or later, they all do…”.

Margaret “Maggie” Pearson — Maggie, Jake’s cousin, is like no other woman that Max has met.  Her high-spirited nature, quick wit, and vast knowledge have intimidated Max at times, and she seems to enjoy stumping Max.  Regardless, Max is thoroughly taken with her, and has been spending time perfecting a poem that he plans to deliver to her to begin courting her.

Go to Father Gustav & Maggie

Go to Part 1

PROACTIVE NODES

PROACTIVE 1: HAND ON THE STREET

• Can be seen anywhere (driving by, outside the boarding house, etc.)

PROACTIVE 2: TANIT CULTISTS

• Sent by Barca at any point where PCs have been identified

PROACTIVE 3: WHISKEY DEATH

• Contacted by Fred Watson at any time concerning the death of the one of the cops who had been at the James J. Hill House.

PROACTIVE 1: HAND ON THE STREET

SEEING THE HAND

• Can happen at almost any time that the PCs are walking or driving along the street.
• Shouldn’t be a busy street (the hand doesn’t want to attract a crowd or anything).

TRACKING THE HAND

• Survival: The hand appears to have tracked through some talc powder and telltale traces can be followed back to a nearby apartment (it dropped out of the open window).
• Streetwise: Can find a couple of kids bowling with bicycle rims who, with a little Reassurance, saw the hand drop out of the window.
• Library Use/Simple Search: A day or two later a small item will appear in the Minneapolis Star about a body being found in the area without a left hand.

THE APARTMENT

A single-room apartment with yellowish, nicotine-stained plaster walls.

• A rumpled Murphy’s bed.

Kurt Nordberg lies dead with his head down on a plain wooden table with two chairs that’s shoved up against the wall against a partially open window.

• His left hand is missing.
• A half-empty bottle of Minnesota 13 Whiskey is on the table next to his right hand.

Streetwise: Kurt has a son named Erik. They had a screaming argument two nights ago.

ERIK

• His father was a drunk (that’s what the argument was about).
• His father had been suffering from a muscular dystrophy.
  • GM Note: This is why the full transformation failed and the hand wandered off on its own.
• He knows that his father bought his liquor from a man named Oleg Andersson.

CRAWLING HAND OF TANIT: Athletics 2, Fleeing 6, Scuffling 4, Health 4

Hit Threshold: 4 (tiny, quick moving hand)
Alertness Modifier: +1 (10% eye by volume)
Stealth Modifier: 2 (tiny skittering hand)
Weapons: eye gouge, scratching, unpleasant probing (-3)
Stability Loss: +1

Eye of Tanit: Pupil twists into a curlicue. Stability test (no loss). On failure, establish trance like state. On second failure, can issue a hypnotic compulsion that will last until trance ends. Being controlled has a potential of 4-point Stability loss.

PROACTIVE 2: TANIT CULTISTS

CULTISTS: Dressed in very nice suits.

• Each has an Eye in their left palm.
• They carry Minneapolis Federal Reserve business cards.

TANIT CULTISTS: Athletics 5, Firearms 4, Scuffling 6, Weapons 5, Health 8

Alertness Modifier: +1 (three eyes are better than two)
Stealth Modifier: 0
Weapons: dagger (0), fists (-2), small caliber pistols (-1)
Stability Loss: +0, if seeing the eye

PROACTIVE 3: WHISKEY DEATH

OFFICER OSCAR LUNDSEN: Stole one of the bottles of whiskey from James J. Hill House and then died while drinking it in his small St. Paul flat later. When he didn’t show up for a shift, a patrol car found his body.

• Left hand is missing.
• Prop: Minnesota 13 Whiskey

Go to Pregenerated Characters