Masks of Nyarlathotep
It started with a murder.
It always fucking starts with a murder.
How did chasing the killers for one bloody tabloid journalist ended up here? He’s dead! He doesn’t even know what happened!
Granted the sun disappeared. And then another sun came to take it place. I always thought it was fake. No way that shit was the real deal. But no one believed me. At least that poor bastard on the street corner did. I think he was dead. I mean, dead men can still stand right? What the fuck they call it? Rigor mortis? Yea, that’s right. He was standing from rigor mortis. No way he was alive though. Half his head was gone. Still, he was able to scream to me with that bloody placard.
WELCOME TO THE APOCALYPSE.
Was so bloody loud I thought my ears were bleeding.
No way buddy. Not when I still breath and eat and shit. No way the apocalypse is here. Not on my watch!
You hear me! Not on my fucking watch!!
A little background on how this campaign came to be. Why it is both Masks of Nyarlathotep and not Masks of Nyarlathotep at the same time.
Dive into our world of cosmic horror.
Prelude and the Death of Elias Jackson
The Cypress Room
Templestowe Astronomy Club
Boxing Day Madness
The Three Raids
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