TEXT: The Horror On Two Forks Trail
  A Call Of Cthulhu Adventure
  A coach ride to San Francisco, what could go wrong? A scenario set in the American West of 1868-70. 
  Foreword 
  This scenario is well suited for all players (and characters) of Call of Cthulhu - no matter their experience,
  whether they are new and have no prior experience, or are old hands who can outstare a Shoggoth. No
  special skills or knowledge are required for its successful conclusion and no real time frame is set for the
  scenario, so events move according to the pace of the keeper, though things should ultimately move along
  regardless. That said, it should also be mentioned that this is not a scenario in the truest sense. There’s
  nothing really to investigate; 90% of it will be adlibbed; made up; off-the-cuff. This scenario’s roll is to
  fill out that night, or Sunday afternoon when no one really has anything to do, though it can easily fit in
  well with any ongoing campaign with a little modification. The scenario is intended to be set in the
  American West of 1868-70, or thereabouts, though names, dates and locations can be changed to suit the
  individual keeper. 
  Keeper Information & Player Introduction 
  Perhaps players can be enticed onto this coach ride with a seemingly real mission to undertake in San
  Francisco, or maybe they have their own reasons for travelling there. Initially, some characters are
  introduced on the first leg of the journey - a cross-state coach ride, headed from Coulterville, to San
  Francisco California, with stop-offs at Patterson’s Ridge and San Jose - San Jose being an overnight
  stopover. After 10 hours cooped up in a small cramped compartment, passengers will be glad of some
  R&R in San Jose. Patterson’s Ridge is a 1.00 pm stopover for 45 minutes during which secondary
  characters and NPC are introduced before continuing with the second leg to San Jose. 
  The Crew 
  · Red Jackson. Coach driver. Older guy - mid 40’s. Seen a lot of action. Silent and calm. Always on the
  lookout for Injun raiders. 
  · Will Cronyn. Rides Shotgun. Mid twenties. Facial scar from left temple, across cheek, down through lips
  to tip of his pointy chin. Immature and brash. Lazy. Often found sleeping, much to Red’s annoyance. 
  Passengers: Coulterville - Patterson’s Ridge 
  · Some players. Assorted riff-raff. 
  · Collette Bridges. Late 30s. Bookish. Prim and proper school marm. Strict. Spectacles on a chain, hair
  pulled back in to a tight bun. You know the type. Very vocal about the evilness of alcohol and will not
  tolerate its consumption in her presence. Dislikes smoking too. 
  · Artemus Penk II. Early forties. Texan Cattle rancher. Overbearing. Fat-headed, and arrogant. Boasts
  about having the largest longhorn ranch in Texas. Smokes very pungent cigars. Ignores Collette’s pleas to
  extinguish them. 
  · Yuen Chan & Kim Tan. Both Chinese. Uncle and niece. Chan is small and wiry and sports a long well
  broomed beard. Mid 60s. Silent, polite, and inscrutable. He speak very little english. Kim Tan, mid 20s.
  Extremely gorgeous. Bashful, and giggly to anyone who makes eye contact, much to Uncle Chan’s
  displeasure. Kim speaks no English. 
  
  Passengers: Patterson’s Ridge - San Jose 
  · Any other player. 
  · Clifton Westwood. Early thirties. Tough and strong exterior. Clifton appears to be the successful
  professional gambler type. He spends the time talking about strategy in card games, and how he lives it up
  as an expert cardsharp. He particularly delights in a tale in which he won $12,850 with nothing more than
  a pair of fours from a rather nasty game, which ended up with him having to fight his way out against all
  odds. As well as being a gambler, this man is something more stimulating… 
  · Artemus Kinki. Another Artemus, but this one’s a jovial, easy-going fat businessman. Mid-fifties.
  Smells of violets(!). Will engage anyone in conversation, what ever the topic. Sweats profusely.
  Concerned over possible Indian attack. Sells Barbed wire for a living. 
  The journey to San Jose is no more interesting than it had when it began for some characters. The sun
  beats down. The air is dry and dusty. A hot wind does nothing to aid the situation. Everyone has one of
  two options: snooze or stare lazily out at the bleak landscape. Young Will, our gallant co-driver is, as
  ever, catching some well deserved Zs, before being rudely woken by Red: “Injuns…”. Startled, and bleary
  eyed, Will rubs the sleep from his eyes then grabs his rifle, then warns the passengers. 
  Important Information 
  Clifton Westwood is actually a Secret Service agent, and he boarded the coach after completing some
  business with the local, Chiricahua Apache tribe. He was sent by President Ulysses S. Grant to strike a
  deal with Indians, in which the US Government would purchase a tract of land which contained a rich
  seem of iron ore deposits. The deal fell through. The Indian Chief was adamant about not selling, saying
  only that, that precise area was a spiritual site to them and their ancient ancestors. 
  Undeterred, Westwood entered the local caves to dig out some samples, for later analysis, and there he
  found a temple of some kind. And in this temple sacred treasures abound. Some of it valuable looking.
  Gold and silver. Just sitting there. Doing nothing. Who would miss a few trinkets? Greed took over. Who
  could foresee that the totems he would take would be magical artefacts. And not just any hokey religious
  regalia that has some mystical importance attached to it. Oh no, these certain objects are used to imprison
  a Flying Polyp which the Indians keep entombed in the caves. Without them the Polyp is sure to escape
  and go on a rampage. Can you see the plot begin to take shape? Well, apparently the Indians did miss
  them and they want them back. Desperately. So here they come… 
  Typical Indian 
  STR     CON     SIZ     INT     POW     DEX     MOVE    HITS
  12      12      10      12      13      12      8       11
  WEAPON  ATTK %  DAMAGE          
  Fist    50      1d3             
  Bow     65      1d8+1           
  Knife   60      1d4+2           
  Tomahawk        70      1d6+1           
  Rifle   35      1d10+3          
  Skills: Dodge 25%, Leap on to wagon 80%, Ride 99%, Throw 45%
  Equipment: Bow, Arrows, Tomahawks, a few Rifles, knife
  Back to the action 
  By now the players are awake and alert. The horses are spurred on. Quicker. Quicker. Our passengers are
  jostled and bounced. Here the adventure gets simple. Survive the Indian attack, then head for safety. As
  the vehicle lurches forward dozens of horse mounded Indians hove into view, whooping wildly… 
  For purposes of this scene, the keeper has access to as many Indians as he/she needs. Keep them coming
  in waves, even if the players are able to cut them down like wheat before the scythe. Keep them coming
  
  until they achieve their objective, which is to stop the coach so that they can retrieve a small strongbox
  from the baggage compartment. The passengers are of secondary concern and will be left completely
  alone if the simply stop and give up. Ha, fat chance! 
  Keep the pressure on, but hold back if the players get overwhelmed. Have fun with the action. Encircle
  the wagon. Describe desperate fist fights, with head-butting, gouging, etc.. Have Indians leap on board,
  have arrows thud into the carriage, as do tomahawks and the occasional wood-splintering bullet. 
  As the fight continues, all shots fired are reduced to HALF CHANCE, though observant characters might
  notice that Westwood is an extremely good shot with his pistol despite the penalty. Artemus, is unarmed
  and scared shitless. He hangs on for dear life, fighting desperately to hold back his womanly screams. Red
  takes an arrow to the shoulder and back, but continues, gritting his teeth. Will fires randomly and
  ineffectually. An Indian leaps onto the carriage, and a struggle ensues. Will is pushed off and lands badly
  breaking an ankle. Red pulls a handgun but is too slow and gets a tomahawk to the face, knocking him
  senseless, after which he drowns from his own blood. 
  With no one at the reins the horses plough on, hurtling forward. Out of control. Somebody should
  eventually realise that no one is driving. Those able to scramble their way to the reigns must contend with
  attacks from the Indians as well as bringing the vehicle under control (DRIVE COACH or WAGON
  check). Red lies slumped over in his seat. Sadly the character is a tad too late, and just at that moment the
  coach jolts and bucks as a wheel disintegrates into kindling off a conveniently placed boulder. The vehicle
  crashes, skids, rolls over and is breaks apart. The horses break free and gallop off, stranding everyone to
  their fate. 
  · JUMP rolls are required to leap out with nothing more than minor damage, otherwise 1d6 damage is
  taken. 
  · Staying inside and bracing themselves, characters require a LUCK roll to avoid 1d6 damage. 
  · Anyone free-standing or in a fight must make a LUCK roll. Failing the roll results in the unfortunate
  taking 1d12 crash damage. Success limits this to 1d6 damage. An impale results in no damage. 
  The Indians come in again… 
  With ammunition hopefully getting low, and Indians converging in all around our heroes should
  withdraw, scrounge what cover they can find and prey that their death will be swift. The Indians watch the
  players closely. No attempt to communicate is made, and any questions asked are ignored. Others move in
  to search the wreckage. The limp body of Westwood is retrieved and scalped. The box is likewise found,
  before they leave en-masse - whooping triumphantly. 
  Shantak 
  If the fight seems too easy for the players, have a Shantak swoop out from the sky and join the fray. Use it
  like a giant Ray Harryhausen special effect. It swoops ominously, moving in close then away. For added
  effect it could grapple somebody (players and horses included) in its mighty claws, before flying away. Is
  this excessive? Is it gratuitous? Is it a flagrant misuse of keeper impulse? Does there have to be a reason
  for it being there? Only you can decide. 
  The Aftermath 
  The players find themselves to be the sole survivors, unless otherwise killed. Those without war or
  combat experience lose 1/1d6 sanity for the harrowing experience. After taking note of their situation,
  they find themselves in the middle of nowhere. A barren landscape of rocks and brushwood. The desert
  looks pretty unappealing. Distant hills being the only feature, apart from wreckage strewn all over, and of
  course dead Indians. This next scene starts to stoke player apprehension with desolation, isolation, the
  need to survive, the demand for food, water, shelter, rest, and medical attention. (Without proper first aid
  
  or medical supplies players only regain 1 hp on a successful skill use - 2 hp if the roll is impaled.
  Medicine does nothing.) 
  Searching for useable equipment, before heading in a direction, the players find: 
  · Red Jackson: Colt .45 revolver, gun belt with 60 rounds of ammunition. Pocket flask of Whisky. 
  · Will Cronyn: .52 Spencer Carbine Rifle, 73 rounds of ammunition, Colt .45 revolver, 100 rounds. Bowie
  Knife. 
  · Artemus Kinki: Case containing barbed wire samples. Assorted paperwork pertaining to sales made.
  Most recent edition of Cavalier - a magazine containing pictures of women in provocative poses.
  Patterson Ridge News-sheet. 
  · Clinton Westwood: Colt .45, 33 Rounds. Pack of cards. Identification identifying him as a Special Agent
  of the United States Secret Service, (Department of the Treasury) based in Washington DC. A large
  leather wallet contains an unsigned land purchase agreement between the US Government and the
  Chiricahua Apache tribe. 
  A total of $75 and 1d100 cents can be scavenged as can a watch on a fob. Assorted baggage contains
  nothing to interest the players. Light snacks may be found. Water consists of one canteen full (unless
  players have their own limited stock, which can be reduced further by a well aimed missed shot.),
  certainly not enough to benefit the party. Other stuff consists of a few bows and arrows, tomahawks and a
  few rifles that the fallen Indians had. 
  Heading Out 
  Would you credit it? The blasted Indians rounded up all the loose horses and took ‘em away.
  Inconsiderate bastards. The characters will have to hoof it if they want to get anywhere. The question
  begs: Where are they? Even if someone does the maths and calculates a relative speed and time equals
  distance travelled equation, they’ll be no closer to safety. Patterson’s Ridge may be 25 miles east… San
  Jose 25 miles west. Oh… the choice. 
  The sun beats down relentlessly. More so than before it seems. The characters are fatigued, hot, sweaty
  and thirsty. A hot wind whips up. Striking out in whatever direction they choose, they head out to meet
  the full desert harshness. Vultures circle overhead. A cheery omen indeed. 
  The 25 mile trek is hard, and dehydration is a problem, and with it comes the inability to think straight.
  Dazed and confused, the players are bound to wander off course. Eventually, when they skirt around the
  low hills, they see in a distant valley an Indian camp… and a little further beyond - a river which
  reinforces calm and relief. The river, with its thirst quenching and life preserving properties is a mirage
  and serves only to draw the needy players closer. Realising the river is a sad illusion results in 1/1d4
  Sanity loss. 
  The Camp 
  As the players summon the energy and pick up the pace they notice, on a successful SPOT HIDDEN
  check that there is something wrong with the encampment. No signs of life. No horses. No children
  running or playing. Nobody comes out to meet them. Tepees stand crooked or are blown completely over. 
  Closer inspection confirms it. There is no life at all. Just bodies strewn all around. It seems that the Union
  Army swept through with a vengeance. But no, the carnage is much, much worse. Several hundred
  twisted, broken bodies. Wind blasted and desiccated; and in near all cases the flesh has been stripped
  exposing bone. Horses included. Sanity loss for this grizzly scene is 1d3/1d6. What could have caused it? 
  Well, sadly, the Indians were a little late in returning with their artefacts; and as they hurriedly conducted
  
  their Polyp-entombing ceremony, complete with spur-on-the-moment sacrifices thrown in for good
  measure, the Polyp broke free and killed everyone present. The vengeful entity continued its spree
  outside… and somewhere, out there, there’s a Flying Polyp. Anybody with Mythos knowledge may
  recognise the work of the Polyp here. 
  The Chiricahua’n Tribe has had the Polyp entombed for as long as can be told. They treat it as a living
  god. Degenerate as it may be, that is the only reason why they haven’t tried to kill it. It doesn’t matter that
  it is evil and would kill every living thing should it ever get out. They venerate it as much as they despise
  it. 
  Picking through the remains, the players find the usual assortment of Indian materiel, and enough food
  and water to satisfy their immediate need which gives an automatic morale boost by way of 1d4 sanity
  gain. Also, while searching the camp, a lucky character may find in what appears to be the Chief's tepee a
  telescope. Using it to get some kind of bearing the player, on a SPOT HIDDEN check sees, at one mile
  distant carved stone idols at the base of some hills. Closer inspection would require a trip out to them. The
  idols and caves can also be discovered if the players head towards the high ground so that they get a better
  panoramic view of where they are... 
  The dozen conical stone idols stand a full ten feet high and ten feet wide at the base. They seem to be
  clustered around a cave mouth opening. Upon their surfaces each bears deep etchings, and those of a
  fanciful nature might describe them to resemble three long tentacles, two of which terminate in enormous
  claws or nippers. At the end of the third are four trumpet-like appendages. Embedded in a ring atop the
  cones are yellow eye-like swellings. (Those with Mythos knowledge might identify these totems as crude
  representations of the Great Race of Yith.) Also, inscribed upon each of their surfaces are symbols and
  wards of protection and purification, but on each statue one sigil seems to be more prominent and stands
  out from the rest for whatever reason - a pentagon with an eye at its centre. A lesser known variant of the
  Elder sign. A few more dead Indians complete the scene. 
  Exploring the caves requires a light source. Essentially the mines are nondescript. Gravel crunches
  underfoot. A GEOLOGICAL check allows characters to see that the place has a rich seem of Iron Ore
  running through it. As the exploration draws to an end. the players emerge into a large cavern that appears
  to have been sculpted into a temple of some kind. It also seems that something large has exploded out
  from behind one of the walls - leaving an enormous cavity. But that is of secondary concern when faced
  with more death. Twelve bodies of a likes seen before; stripped of flesh and broken. Looking around
  players discover on an IDEA roll that there are two kinds of death here. One is carnage, the other is
  ritualistic sacrifice and the bloodied dagger held in the Chief's hand attests to that, as does the slit throat of
  a warrior. The box which was taken from the coach is found here - open and empty, its contents
  somewhere lost in the chamber. 
  Indian totems such as drums, flutes and whistles, and other religious garb and artefacts abound - some of
  which are inlaid with gold and silver. Greedy players can load up here, and whatever their worth is left to
  the individual keeper. 
  What Now 
  Whenever it is convenient, have the Polyp ascend from behind a rocky outcropping, with an
  accompanying gust of wind. It rises higher into the air, apparently unaware of the players, before streaking
  off, at speed in a random direction. Remember Sanity loss, for those who see it. Generous keepers may
  allow LUCK rolls here. Who knows, maybe everyone has their backs turned at that particular moment.
  Obviously the characters can’t stay here for ever, so they’ll probably load up with as much as they can
  carry before continuing on their weary march. They might stay over night however. 
  Either way, several hours later, they see in the distance a several hundred man strong military detachment
  of some kind heading their way - wagon bound and on horse back. Flagging them down and explaining
  their predicament Major General Thomas G. Copeland listens with a sympathetic ear. 
  While arrangements are made for their safe escort on to wherever they players wan to go, our friend Mr.
  
  Polyp drops in to say hello. Soon all eyes are on it. Sanity checks for all. Men gaze open mouthed.
  Disbelieving. Stunned at the huge monstrosity. No one moves. Horses whinny and panic and try to flee.
  Set the scene then have the Polyp strafe the column for good effect. A strong wind buffets the wagons,
  blowing some of them over. General Copeland blinks then stirs from his momentary inaction and barks
  orders to: “Shoot it, Shoot it”. The players may be at this stage already, and those soldiers who are able to
  follow their example open fire too. Other soldiers are just too far gone and will sit, drool & gibber, or run
  screaming into the desert. WAAAAAAHHH! 
  Rifle and pistol fire are volleyed as fast as one can reload, however, due to the wind all ranged combat is
  conducted at -25. Since there are NPCs firing also, the Polyp takes an additional 1d4-1 damage per round.
  This way it can be killed even if the players are totally ineffectual. There are dozens of weapons to pick up
  and enough ammunition to eventually kill the wee beastie, but for the time being our players must do with
  what they have… then whenever it is appropriate blow the canvas off a wagon to reveal a Gatling Gun,
  complete with crank handle and boxes of ammunition.... For some reason it’s not being used. Any takers?
  Sadly, there is no dynamite or barrels of gunpowder to be found. 
  The urge to use the Polyp to full effect is too great, so to avoid a quick end it is advised to use its special
  attacks sparingly. Or, direct them away from the players for the first few rounds to give ‘em a chance.
  Decimate soldiers and horses by the bucket load describing how their flesh is stripped in horrifying agony.
  Sanity loss to see this (1/1d6). 
  As the Polyp is reduced to half hits it will no longer be able to keep aloft and will fall from the sky to
  continue its attack up close and personal. It pulls itself along with great effort, gouging a trench thirty feet
  wide and one foot deep. Thick ropy tentacles whip back and forth smashing wagons and whatever else
  that cannot get out their way. At quarter hits the Polyp attempts to flee to safety itself… try as it might it
  cannot lift off, so it drags itself away at speed 8 - quite easy to pursue and hunt down 
  Killing the Polyp will be a joyous occasion indeed, and well worth the 1d20 sanity reward. Quite soon
  after it has bee slain, it begins to melt into a nauseating glutinous, mulchy goo. It bubbles and fizzes. Best
  not touch it. You know, just to be safe. 
  Once all is done, the survivors pack up what they can muster and go home. 
  Flying Polyp 
  STR     CON     SIZ     INT     POW     DEX     MOVE    HITS
  50      25      50      14      16      13      8 / 12  38
  WEAPON  ATTK %  DAMAGE          Damage Bonus: +5d6
  Tentacle        85      1d10            
  Wind Blast      70      Special         
  Armour: The Polyp takes minimum damage from all 
          weapons, then another 4 points is subtracted.                           
  Spells: None, unless the keeper is truly evil. Are you?
  Sanity: 1d3/1d20
  Wind Blast Attack: This attack has a base range of 20 yards, doing damage equal to its damage bonus.
  The range can be increased but it loses 1d6 damage per multiple of 20. Thus, the blast at 100 yards range
  would do 1d6 damage. Victims of this attack have their flesh stripped from their bones at worst, to a
  rather bad case of dehydration and wind burn. All victims are also blown back a number of yards equal to
  the hit points they lose. Fixing Attack: In this mode, the attack has a range of 1000 yards without
  diminishing. It’s use is to slow a fleeing target, which the Polyp has deemed a suitable snack. This time
  the wind has a peculiar sucking effect, which slows the target considerably. All targets must roll their
  STR versus half the Polyp’s POW. If the Target wins, he/she can act as normal. Failure means the victim
  is stuck and cannot move away that round. 
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Call of Cthulhu (CoC) (BRP) [multi]/Adventures/1920s/CoC - 1920s - Adv - The Horror on Two Forks Trail (.pdf