More creepiness for your games! An alien dodecahedron, vomiting forth ancient wisdom, locked away in the basement of a madman-sorcerer seeking eternal life. What scheme does this man undertake with his magic, to extend his life? Do the hunters have to destroy the angel to stop him? If they merely stop the madman, what do they do with the “angel”?
Does it have vital knowledge of the Chosen’s destiny? Is it part of the Flake’s conspiracy? Does it recognize The Divine? The Summoned?
Originally shared by Tore Nielsen
#MonstersofDecember
In the cellar of his home in the Hamptons, Wayne Schroeder has an angel.
Schroeder was a New York architect in the 1980s, and as his star began waning in the early 90s he cannily backed younger up-and-coming entrepreneurs in the housing development field. This made him more money than his own career, something which never sat right with him. Wayne was good at underbidding other contractors, often running roughshod over his young business partners, who
He was worth just shy of a billion and slightly bitter when he had his first heart attack in 2000.
It was a minor thing, really. Still, it scared Wayne in a way that was new to him. He had always been the architect of his fate, and had never considered his own death before.
Despite warnings to take it easy, Wayne did no such thing. He donated a cardiology ward, which made him poorer, but no safer. He began associating with psychics, fringe religions and occultists. He couldn’t leave his life (or the possibility of an afterlife) to uncertainty. His NYC apartment, his Hampton house and his Florida McMansion sometimes looked like conventions for crystal-peddlers and kook-bags.
It was around this time Jessica, his second wife, filed for divorce. She couldn’t stand the circus their life had become, and the way her slightly boring husband had become a strange obsessive.
Wayne’s encounter with the truly supernatural was what turned him into the recluse he is today. A man he used to buy unusual substances from (mummy dust and eye of newt, his ex-wide would say) offered him the angel.
“It speaks truths and only truths” the man would say. “Only few have the stomach to listen”.
“I do” Wayne said.
“And the tenacity to keep listening”
“I’ll listen until I hear what I want”
“You’ll hear what you hear”.
The man wanted a million, and when Wayne saw the angel he paid up.
These days Wayne is a rail-thin man with a wispy yellowish-white beard. He hasn’t changed his clothes in weeks. He does not spend all his time listening to the angel. Sometimes his mind feels filled to bursting, and he takes brisk walks around his property, mumbling to himself. Most of the time he sits in the dark by the angel’s side listening to it whisper. So far he has not learned the secret of the afterlife, but how long can it be?
The creature was created by a nameless alien race, using technology indistinguishable from black magick. It was made as a living data bank, a receptacle for unspeakable knowledge. It lives seemingly forever, in a state of black and crippling insanity.
Physically the ‘angel’ is a rough dodecahedron made of a grey rubbery flesh. It moves by sprouting temporary body parts if it needs them, and drags itself along the floor.
Angel of Wisdom/ancient inhuman memory
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AC 3
HD 6
Temporary limb Dam: 1d8 x3 (It only fights in self-defense)
+Hit +6
Move 20′
ML 10
Skill 3
Mad. 1d8
Save 12+
Special: The angel’s harsh whispers inflict 1 Madness on all within 5 meters every round it lives.
Wayne Schroeder is a Strong Common Human, albeit one with a huge theoretical knowledge of dark magick.
