Cthulhu Dark -- A Secret Everest Expedition

[trevlix]

Trafford cleans up the dishes before heading into the tent with Finch and Hingston, hearing the conversation on what to do with the body. Still ashamed of his previous behavior, and not entirely sure his head is clear, he stands to the side and stays out of the conversation.

"Come, doctor, return your specimen to the body. I'll sew it all up safely and take it outside the camp. The cold will better preserve flesh, anyway."

"Let me help," Trafford says and moves in to work before any response can be given. "Its the least I can do, considering..." He lets his sentence hang in the air, his pride hoping he doesn't have to finish it.

Trafford will help Finch drag the body back to the outside of camp. He suggests that they go at least 100 yards away from the campsite, if not more.

Sorry for my lack of posting - got busy and just now catching up.

[Dr. Gerard]

[No worries, Trevelix. If no one objects, I'm going to keep this moving a little past the original one-month deadline, just to reach resolution with some grace. I promise not to let it linger on forever, and I'll keep up the posts this week to drive the story forward when needed. To help things along, think about including a few "if x then y" contingency statements in your posts if it seems relevant to do so.]
Hingston leaves the remainder of the "tumor" on a small tray, like a Christmas pudding soaking in its own sauces.

His eyes are wildly defiant as he reassembles the dented metal medical kit, stashing the apothecary bottle in his own leather doctor's bag.

[Hingston is making a stand about his possession of the tumor. If anyone wants to press the issue with him, it will require a single die roll, a sort of "persuade" check, to talk him into giving it up. I will likely roll a single die in opposition on his behalf. No expertise or Exhaustion die is allowed, but you could risk your Insanity die if you wanted to improve the chances. If Insanity yields the highest result in the pool, you will then have to roll a single die against your current Insanity to avoid taking another point (if equal or lower). Let me know if you want to handle the situation in some other way, like sneaking it out of camp later, and make appropriate rolls for your actions.]

"Oh, Trafford, let me look at that bump again. Yes, that's a nasty one. And it won't heal in the slightest in this thin air."

He quickly lights a tallow candle and uses the flame to sterilize the same needle he used in the autopsy.

"I believe you'll need a few stitches," he says, the candle light flickering in his eyes.

[Dr. Gerard]

[No worries, Trevelix. If no one objects, I'm going to keep this moving a little past the original one-month deadline, just to reach resolution with some grace. I promise not to let it linger on forever, and I'll keep up the posts this week to drive the story forward when needed. To help things along, think about including a few "if x then y" contingency statements in your posts if it seems relevant to do so.]
Hingston leaves the remainder of the "tumor" on a small tray, like a Christmas pudding soaking in its own sauces.

His eyes are wildly defiant as he reassembles the dented metal medical kit, stashing the apothecary bottle in his own leather doctor's bag.

[Hingston is making a stand about his possession of the tumor. If anyone wants to press the issue with him, it will require a single die roll, a sort of "persuade" check, to talk him into giving it up. I will likely roll a single die in opposition on his behalf. No expertise or Exhaustion die is allowed, but you could risk your Insanity die if you wanted to improve the chances. If Insanity yields the highest result in the pool, you will then have to roll a single die against your current Insanity to avoid taking another point (if equal or lower). Let me know if you want to handle the situation in some other way, like sneaking it out of camp later, and make appropriate rolls for your actions.]

"Oh, Trafford, let me look at that bump again. Yes, that's a nasty one. And it won't heal in the slightest in this thin air."

He quickly lights a tallow candle and uses the flame to sterilize the same needle he used in the autopsy.

"I believe you'll need a few stitches," he says, the candle light flickering in his eyes.

[trevlix]

Trafford eyes Hingston closely. Does he appear...sane?

Rolling in case I need to:
Capabilities: 3, Insanity: 5

If I am doing this right, I need to roll insanity as well:
3

[Dr. Gerard]

[Yes, that works. Your Insanity holds at 4, and you gain the bulk of any insight that would be available to a normal person.]

In the light of the candle, Trafford suddenly sees something new in Hingston's eyes -- an obsessive quality that he hadn't noticed there before. Hingston has always been somewhat fixated on the flora and fauna of this region, and has written volumes about his discoveries. But something about this examination appears to have ignited his curiosity that is overtaking him like a brush fire. What's more, he's clearly hiding something. Vengeful rage in response to the bite? Further designs to study these people? Lust for the glory of fame among naturalist peers?

Trafford does not find malice in Hingston's face as he prepares to sew up the pilot's wound. But he is clearly distracted, going through the motions, biding his time before embarking on some other unknowable task of much greater gravity.

[trevlix]

Despite his immediate reservations, Trafford sits down and waits for Hingston to sew his wound.

"Wait with me for a minute," he says to Finch. "Then we can leave."

[Dr. Gerard]

Hingston cleans Trafford's v-shaped wound with alcohol, which sends cataracts of pain down the pilot's head and through his body. Hingston washes a length of catgut with iodine, and sews up the wound with the curved suture needle. He works quickly but a bit mercilessly, like a shoemaker stitching leather. It does the job. A sloppy bandage covers the swollen spot.

"Hold this gauze against it as long as you can. Blood doesn't clot right up here. We'll change the dressing every few hours."

"I'll tidy up here," he adds. Looking around the tent, the blood spatters on the walls and floor, the scattered medicine bottles and bandages that he missed -- he sighs with a tinge of sadness.

"By God, what a mess."

[trevlix]

Trafford holds the gauze to his wound, allowing the throbbing pain to clear his head. He looked over at Hingston and wondered again if he was in his right mind. This was not a place to lose your sanity, but Trafford knew that he was guilty of that himself so passing judgement on another man would be hypocritical.

A few minutes later, Trafford stands up and moves toward the deceased body.

"Ready to go?"

[Scriven]

Finch joins Trafford in moving the body outside the tent. Exposed again to the unutterably cold night air, even the mountain-hardened Finch cannot bite back his sharp gasp. It feels as if his lungs are suddenly filled with razor shards of ice. The pain is excruciating. "Hingston should know better," he says, hoarsely to Trafford. "God only knows what disease these devils actually suffer from. If it's leprosy, it's like no kind I've ever seen before." His mind returns again to the fleshy bulb they found near the monastery -- how it seemed to move of its own volition. What seemed so patently absurd then -- only a few hours ago -- is somehow less implausible now. "I'm not comfortable with Hingston keeping any part of that . . . bulb, Trafford. There's something unnatural about it all." He grunts with the effort of dragging the body through the snow towards the perimeter of the camp.

[Dr. Gerard]

Meanwhile Wangdi, who changed into dry clothing and started to help Karma Paul direct the sherpas as they set up camp, convenes with his mentor about what has transpired.

[And if you're there Riq, please let me know what -- if anything -- Wangdi would disclose. I'm otherwise going to proceed with my own interpretation -- and please pardon any imposition.]

Trafford and Finch manage to scuttle away into the dark with the post-operative corpse. It smells a bit of iodine and bile, even in the cold. They find a small "irregular," a boulder dropped by the immense appendage of a long receded glacier. It will conceal the body until daylight, but in the open valley it may be difficult to intern anything completely out of view. Both are winded from the effort, though it helps to share the load.

Unwelcome gusts of wind stab at the two climbers, clawing at collars and soaking through the thinnest fabrics.

[I'm going to move the evening forward a bit. If you wanted to make a heroic effort to hide the body for good, it will require lots of time and some strenuous to gather big stones. If this is your course of action, roll one "humanly possible" die AND an exhaustion die. We can insert ("ret-con") this task later if needed, so I'm not going to wait for a response.]

The two return from their labors and help with the tail end of the camp jobs.

Hingston remains in the first tent, an oil lantern burning a bright flame inside. His distorted shadow lumbers from one side of the canvas pyramid to the other as he hunches over his work.

Conversation is sparse as the tired sherpas gather for yak tea before turning in. Wangdi and Karma Paul remain close to each other. Ansfrid is obsessively re-waxing his skiis and swearing softly to himself in Norwegian in a rhythmic, almost meditative way. He appears exhausted, and as yet is oblivious to the dark secrets his comrades silently keep.

Mercifully, the wind calms as the camp settles in. But the temperature continues to drop.

A single shot cracks out from the western ridge. The whole camp startles. It echoes several times across the valley. Several sherpas spring to their feet.

And then another shot, closer this time and up on the eastern peak.

Wangdi speaks: "Ah. This is no gunshot," he says. "This is ice breaking. The glacier is close now."

Of course, experienced climbers have heard it before. When packed ice melts, refreezes and expands, it creates immense pressure. The sudden cracking of a pinnacle can sound quite like the crack of a rifle.

"Chomolungma is singing to us. May she keep Odell safe tonight out there in the dark."

His voice is full of resignation, and drained of hope.

Soon, all retire to their tents.