The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 30

Rusty Quill presents

Good evening, gentlemen and gentle ladies of hell.

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It's hard to believe what we've gone through, but we've seen on a day like this one.

You know, I gotta admit,

checking out this pavilion was a pretty good idea.

Sometimes taking a break's the best way to get some perspective.

I think I'm all full up on perspective.

It wasn't even a month ago that Margaret and me would be champing at the bit for a shot at a place like Coldsparrow, hoping to explore more and more strangeness, delve into yet another mystery.

But now

we've got far more than we ever bargained for.

No offense to you fine folks, but I wish Mr.

Hughes had lost our number altogether.

None taken.

I don't know how many times I've regretted returning his phone call.

I'm just glad we're the only ones at this place.

And that the view's open enough to see if we picked up a tail

Ain't no use thinking about what could have been we gotta stay focused on the task at hand

Speaking of which still nothing on the cameras

Nothing no one's even been in to clean the room yet let alone replace the coffee maker

Maybe they know you left those little spy cameras running not unless they intercepted me and Leon's texts, which I'd say is is pretty unlikely.

Well, you two fooled me.

I had no idea you'd set the room up till you told us about it in the car.

We just wanted to see if they might slip up and say something on camera while we weren't around.

After what Steadman said, we can't even count Porta Foy a safe harbor.

But so far, at least, there's no sign of anyone.

He said a lot of this town was in on this shit, which means some of them aren't.

Who knows?

Maybe we lucked out and got us some everyday, ordinary, normal folks.

I seriously doubt it.

The one and only hotel in town would likely be one of the first places they'd want to snitch.

From everything you've told us,

I think we could probably also add the director of the historical society to the list of likely cultists.

I can't imagine they'd entrust all those materials to someone not in the know.

Yeah, that checks out.

I'm guessing we could also put the mayor in the head of whatever law enforcement they got here on that list, too.

Felice, you said you sensed an ever-present sort of menace in Cold Sparrow.

What about here, in Part of Foy?

Hmm, to tell you the truth, I've tried not to open myself up that routinely.

The psychic pollution within Cold Sparrow, for lack of a better word, has me being very selective about when I extend my antennae, if you'll pardon the expression.

Apart from what happened at the hospital, there were two occasions when the atmosphere began to change for the worse.

The first was at the Historical Society when Leon was attacked, and then again the night that we came to warn Charlie Prist of what we'd discovered.

But there's no ambient foulness to Porta Foy, not like Hold Sparrow.

It's like the very instant we turn onto Pitch Point Road, the ether goes dark and threatening.

What was that?

Remote camera motion detector just went off in our room.

I've got it set to message my phone if it trips.

Let's see what's going on in room 19, shall we?

It takes four people to replace a coffee maker.

Why are they lifting up that floor?

It's hard to tell from this angle, but I'd say they're prying up a floorboard.

Feet's getting fuzzy for some reason.

That one right there just took something out of the bag.

Was that a little box or something?

And he just put it under the floorboard.

Does the volume go any hard?

Sounds like they're talking.

They're chanting something.

Can't quite make it out.

Well, they're putting the rug back.

Looks like they had it out

now.

Hold up, one's coming back in.

Oh, never mind.

They remembered the coffee maker after all.

All clear on the camera?

All clear.

I'll kick the resonator on as soon as we get inside.

And Margaret will check the floor with the EMF detector.

Make sure there isn't some kind of listening device in that box.

I don't think they're trying to round a recorder.

But I guess it's better to be sure.

Okay.

Here we go.

Well, whatever's under there, it isn't mechanical.

But it sure as hell isn't normal.

Look at the mist coming up from the rug.

All right, let's see what's under here.

Everyone, get back.

Phil, got any ideas?

Just

just give me a second to prepare.

Whatever it is.

Whatever it is, it's something old.

Foul.

Sure as hell's cold enough.

The mist's poor enough, I think.

Be careful.

Just cover me in case.

Well, you know.

I gotcha.

Things like fucking ice.

No, but throw it outside?

Open it?

Ugh, we sure as hell shouldn't open it in here.

Shit, yeah, there's something inside this thing.

Careful with the lid that it doesn't pop open.

Now put it down.

Stick your foot on it.

Jesus.

Let's take a darely hold on to the thing.

Throw it out the goddamn window, Mason.

It's so damn cold.

My hands are going numb.

Throw it out the wi-

It's one of them fucking dead birds.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, put that away.

You can't blast that thing in here.

My god.

It's growing.

Your heart

belongs to me now.

Fearless.

I'm shutting down the resonator

It's working it's getting smaller

Close the windows before it gets back in

Why the fuck did they hide that thing under the floorboards

To spy on us, I guess.

They know us inside and out.

They don't need spies to know what we're up to.

That thing's up to something altogether different.

I think you're right.

There's Martet.

Think about the severed arms under the school.

They were preparing the children for something.

And now they're preparing us for what?

To disappear like the

people in Cold Sparrow?

It's the million-dollar question now, isn't it?

Oh, shit.

It's Professor Locktrum.

I forgot all about the video call tonight.

Leon, answer it.

We can't tell him to hold on while we recover from a supernatural manifestation.

Alright, I'm on it.

Oh, but I wish we'd planned what we were gonna say.

Hello, Dr.

Lockdrum, and thanks for agreeing to speak with us on such short notice.

Not at all, Mr.

Oates.

Not at all.

It's the very least I could do.

We're all very indebted to you and your team for what you did.

Thanks for saying so, Doctor.

We really appreciate it.

So, I understand you're interested in Mephitican lore and culture.

Is that right?

That's right.

Uh, we're working on something similar to Mephitica, but we've hit a roadblock and could really use your help.

But, uh, before I go any further, I'd like to turn this over to some friends of ours.

They are far more familiar with the material than we are.

Doctor, this is Margaret and Patricia Ingersoll.

They...

Oh my goodness, yes, I know exactly who you two are.

I'd followed your court case with great enthusiasm.

Such a remarkable trial.

I'm glad you're a fan.

Not everyone is.

Science is very much like a stubborn mule.

It has to be forcibly pulled along if it's to move at all.

I, for one, share your sensibilities that science must learn to admit of new perspectives, even those that might seem a tad heretical, especially as such heresies yield testable and reproducible results.

We're glad to hear you say so, because some of what we'd like to ask about may sound a little

strange.

Very little about Mephitica is not strange.

So, please, ask me anything.

I'm intrigued.

Well, uh, first and foremost,

we were hoping you could tell us something about any rights and/or materials that are believed to act as a deterrent to what you referred to in one of your lectures as damned kind.

Dr.

Loctrum, can you hear me okay?

May I ask you why

this particular information is of use to you?

The private investigation we're currently involved in is

well, that is to say.

Given who you all are, I feel I owe you my complete honesty.

You see, I am sufficiently familiar with Mephitika to know something of the perils it encompasses, be they past or present.

And I should tell you, Mephitika is far more than merely an ancient belief system cooked up in some small city in southern Mesopotamia.

Its study requires no small amount of respect or even fear.

Just so I know we're on the same page with each other,

am I to understand that you believe there might be some truth to the Mephitican faith?

Let's just say what I believe requires no faith at all.

Merely eyes and ears and the mind to understand what they gather.

Then I think we just might understand each other after all.

So you've seen them.

Yes.

More than just seen them, in fact.

Then I suspect you have some idea of the danger you're in.

Intimately.

Very well.

A passage drawn directly from the Gamma's translation of the Cyclus Damnatorum states that the powers of the damned lives within a cyclical rhythm, reaching its apex at precisely 3 a.m., an hour known as black noon.

Conversely, their strength wanes to its lowest ebb when the sun stands at its zenith.

I've found that while this may hold true, one must be wary of places steeped in darkness for countless years, untouched by even a glimmer of light, such as the subterranean depths.

For there, the powers of the damned can persist, defying even the brightest day.

As for objects, talismans that might be considered banes of the damned, there is the chime of Antioch.

This small silver bell was reputedly used in an ancient exorcism rite.

Although it currently remains in private hands, I've discovered that even a digital recording of its tolling is more than sufficient.

While the bell makes no sound that we can hear, it can be detected by the damned, and with powerful effect.

I will send you the sound file immediately.

You mean you've actually used this method?

More times than I care to admit.

What the hell are they, Doctor?

They come up from below.

Diabolon, Asura, Eyot, Hell.

I don't know precisely how, but there are places upon the earth where the barriers are thin, where black black ladders lead up and out of hell.

But when they come back, they're far more than the detestable human beings they once were.

Why are they here?

What do they want?

There are theories, but no definitive answers, I'm afraid.

Doctor, this is Mason Rhodes.

Can they be killed?

And if so, how?

Hello, Mr.

Rhodes.

I wish I knew.

There is very little literature concerning the creatures themselves.

Their portfolio of strengths and weaknesses, for instance.

What information we do have is mostly just ancient stories mixed with an assortment of facts and a chronology of unimaginable wickedness.

The nameless book would seem the only place one might reasonably expect to find such information.

Unfortunately, the Histon transcription documenting the book's contents appears to be bogus, or at the very least greatly embellished.

And the Adolfo version, another transcription, is likely similarly compromised.

There are some newly discovered materials out of Egypt, but they've yet to be thoroughly analyzed.

That leaves only two options.

The copy, or quite possibly, the original nameless book, rumored to exist in the Vatican's hands, and the Manchester version, which was in circulation for only a short time during the the 50s.

What can you tell us about the wax cylinder you commented on in the press back in 2010?

Ah, yes.

The cylinder.

I've reason to believe that it was a genuine communication between members of some sort of cult who were operating on the behalf of one of these horrible creatures and the serial murderer James Binder.

On that score, I've something I would like to ask you, or more specifically, show you.

Of course, what is it?

It's a picture of a machine that was recovered from

an abandoned house close to the West Virginia populace.

Come on with the machine.

There were pictures too, the founder of the property.

God damn it!

The internet's down.

Hmm.

Something tells me it didn't go down by accident.

Dad, were you calling me?

No, dear, I was on a video call.

Anything important?

Quite possibly.

But for right now, I'd like you to double-check the wards.

We may be in for a long night.

That bad, huh?

It just might be.

Then I should hop to it.

My

my my my masters

are you

are you here?

Come close our father Gaffey

into the darkness.

I...

I came to tell you that...

that...

And what did you come to tell us?

Oh, ye false priests of a butchered messiah!

They haven't returned to to Cold Sparrow yet, but uh

we uh

we prepared their room so that

sacrilege and sorrow must lay with them at all times, priest.

Are you certain of thy good work?

I am.

I

liar

No, no, no, we we placed you placed your gift to us inside the room.

Then you would name us liars in your stead, would ye?

Your very masters?

No, no, please.

I did what you asked me to.

I...

I had it hidden in there.

Asked you, did we?

Next, ye shall say we pleaded for your administrations.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I was...

I was wrong.

I...

Silence!

These creatures have discovered what you did hide.

But worry not, false priest.

We have repaired thy mistake.

Now corruption layeth with them

as if it were their own shadow.

The Gentleman from Hell is a Meltopia production.

Today's episode was written by Mark Anzalone and performed by Stephen Zivick, Sam Stark, Aubrey Akers, Jesse Van Hove, Callie Baer, and Matt Van Hove.

Sound editing was completed by Stephen Anselone, and script editing was conducted by Walker Kornfeld.

Be sure to rate and review us on iTunes, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform.

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And for more exclusive content such as additional lore, stories, and art, be sure to check out our Patreon at www.patreon.com forward slash Meltopia.

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Options are key.

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