>>3899085
>Ambivalent, as such is the way of these somewhat strange lands now that you come to think of it
Welcome back.

>>3899085
>Ambivalent, as such is the way of these somewhat strange lands now that you come to think of it
Would a post in /qtg/ be in order? Seems people have overlooked your return in the catalog.

>>3899085
>Ambivalent, as such is the way of these somewhat strange lands now that you come to think of it

>>3899085
>Ambivalent, as such is the way of these somewhat strange lands now that you come to think of it
Through autism I have been able to wrestle a kernel of lore from what little we have been shown so far. I believe that the lotus creature holds the key to understanding the cult that resided here. In Buddhism the lotus is a representation of the pineal gland which is seen as a third eye in other cultures, It seems likely that the creature was a person who sacrificed thier humanity to attain greater perception of the universe. But why go to such extreme measures to do so? The cult was looking for something, somthing that couldn't be found with mortal perception or was perhaps capable of concealing itself from human sight. Be it through zealous impatience or desperation caused by a set of circumstances long forgotten they saw fit to expedite the process by any means necessary.

>>3899085
>Ambivalent, as such is the way of these somewhat strange lands now that you come to think of it

Apologies for my lateness, had much to do. I’ll try to update tomorrow.

>>3899085
>Indignant, for those who vandalize your lands shall know a most pointy reckoning
Fuck these niggas

>>3899594
>>3899559
>>3899474
>>3899123
>>3899469
Ambivalent

(sorry for my lateness, got a little sick from Halloween.)

>>3901380

You are rather ambivalent as to the matter of the pyramids which hang limply from the forest roof. Such is the way of the forest surrounding John's Landing, and the underlying darkness beneath this idyllic slice of wilderness. Just two decades ago, there was a string of rather strange disappearances that mainly concerned any tourists that arrived into the town. Their bodies were never discovered, even as bits of brain and loose eyeballs were discovered by the locals whom your father knew of.

Now that you think deeply upon it, you come to realize that John's Landing is quite a quaint and eerie little village. You had never thought of it as such, but then, your knowledge of what was and was not regular did not exist at that time, for you lived in John's Landing for all of your life until adulthood, when you moved to the city in search of a job.

Soon, the looming cabin comes to view and you park your car by the old gated entrance to the property, pulling your sled full of groceries into the cabin itself. The snow exists as isles of white and ice among a vast sea of brown and green. Now that you have entered the Cabin and restocked your supplies, what shall you do?

>Investigate your Ancestor's Journal

>Return to your Ancestor's Study

>Read the books you found in his Study

>Prepare yourself a meal

>Explore more of the Cabin

>(Write-In)

>>3901395
>Investigate your Ancestor's Journal

>>3901395
>Investigate your Ancestor's Journal

>>3901395
>Investigate your Ancestor's Journal

>>3901467
>>3901531
>>3901532
Investigate your Ancestor's Journal

>>3901549

You find your hand over the smooth leather cover of your Ancestor's Journal, its fingers exploring every groove and indent with a mind of its own. It was as if the Journal called to you. This in of itself was not necessarily the strangest occurrence to have ever happened to you in your life, so you do not think much on the matter. Picking up the journal with the offending hand that had first touched it, you open it to its first, yellowed page which read.

"Of all of my years in this ill, misbegotten plot of God forsaken land, I ne'er had the misfortune of facing the servants of Satan within this forest. Alack, there is much I must archive, and yet God has not deemed it fit to give me more time. I shall see him soon, aye, that I shall. I can only hope that I have not been damned for my actions, even if I have already been consigned to the fiery pit. The puritans, those zealous followers of our Father in Heaven's commandments were right. The forest truly is the last bastion of Satan's terrible works, that I have seen myself and put an end to with my musket.

I only hope now that I may stave off the encroaching madness of this forest with these observations."

You close the book, an ominous atmosphere having settled over the cabin. The doors are all locked and closed, same for the windows. And yet, the wax lanterns have gone out, the only light in this cabin aside from the steadily decreasing sunlight being that of the fireplace's warm glow.

Shall you continue on?

>Yes

>No

>(Write-In)

>>3901557
>Yes

>>3901557
>Yes
Perhaps there will be the key to defend ourselves within this tome? The Ancestor would not have allowed his descendants to go without being able to fight back against these... things, yes?

>>3901566
>>3902155
The digits speak

>>3901557
>Yes
There's a mystery goin on here

>>3901566
>>3902155
>>3902362
>>3902874

Yes

>>3903049

Even as the already ominous atmosphere begins to suffocate what little light remained within the Cabin, you continued on, skimming past the quite long and utterly disturbing first several chapters detailing your Ancestor's purchase of these lands and his eventual descent into madness and degeneracy.

"This forest of ours, here in John's Landing, damned be his name, consumes all that remains within it. There are deer, aye but no small game. No rabbit, grouse, fowl nor even squirrels can enter those woods and not be found dead half rotten a minute from their entrance. There is a connection to be found here, surely, but I have dedicated a good portion of my life to discovering the secrets of these woods to no avail. Disturbingly, it seems that Satan's minions make it a point to mock our good Lord as they often erect blasphemous effigies of The Christ's crucifixion and birth.

Then there are the entities that stalk this forest, of which I shall name but one, for the rest have no true name given to them by non heathens. There is the 'Reckoning', named after Farmer Quarrels was accused of witchcraft some five years ago and pressed to death under stones, refusing to admit to his most grievous crime, of which I knew of. He said, "And there shall be a grievous reckoning." Before his back gave in and reduced him to bonemeal and coagulated blood.

This entity is often heralded by the cacophonous slamming of hammers and of metal being ground under a mill. If the sky reddens, then it is far away. If all is normal, then it is close. I have encountered this wraith myself a few days within my youth, when I hunted with the lads and ventured far into these forests. Armed with muskets, we shot that entity many a time whilst collecting our quarry. It seems that it fears the sting of a bullet, and the sound of prayer."

The entry as detailed here does explain the strange noise, albeit you shudder, thinking of just how close that entity could have been to you.

You have taken but the first step into the dark mystery underlying the forest of John's Landing, the thought of it making you famished.

What shall you prepare for lunch?

>A fine meal of stewed oysters and baked bread, a favorite of your Ancestor's

>A vegetable and chicken casserole passed down from your Grandmother

>A shank of oven baked lamb, bread and soup, a favorite meal of your Father's

>(Write-In)

>>3903077
>A shank of oven baked lamb, bread and soup, a favorite meal of your Father's

>>3903077
>A shank of oven baked lamb, bread and soup, a favorite meal of your Father's
Our Father's meal, to establish firm ground on this day for the future.

>>3903077
>A shank of oven baked lamb, bread and soup, a favorite meal of your Father's
We're going to need a lot of protein if we're goin to have to do some demon killing.

>>3903077
>>A vegetable and chicken casserole passed down from your Grandmother

Apologies, my cold has just been a fucking ass. I've been falling asleep when I shouldn't be, so I'm a bit uh fucked. I'll count the vote now and do a story update tomorrow.

>>3903082
>>3903086
>>3904099
Father's meal

>>3905165

Your Father was quite particular when it came to lamb for some odd reason. When you had asked him why he enjoyed it, he simply told you to read the Good Book and that was that. The aroma that wafted from your half open oven brought fond memories of family meals during the weekend, where on Sundays, Father drove his great iron hulk of a car down to the village and bought a whole leg of lamb from which he would have your mother prepare. When your Mother was lost, he prepared it himself.

The meal was overall quite simple, consisting of a soup made from several ears of corn, mashed into paste with chicken's broth added. This was then mixed with several herbs, followed by the freshly baked bread that your Mother would always make, until she didn't. Father had bought bread along with the lamb leg after she had disappeared. The shank itself was prepared, firstly scoured with a knife, then rubbed with salt and pepper. Therein he'd rub freshly crushed rosemary and dried oregano into the Lamb shank, before he seared it until all of the sides were brown.

Then he set it onto a tray full of chopped potatoes and carrots and onions, basting the leg with its own juices and a bit of broth. It was then baked for three hours on high heat, and when it came out, it was perhaps the most succulent cut of meat that you had ever had.

Your attempted replication of this old family meal has gone... Not too bad by your guess. Sure, the bread was likely stale, along with the soup made from Screaming Potatoes instead of the Weeping Corn that Father often got. But you did manage to get the lamb shank perfectly.

As you dig into this meal, what shall you reminisce on?

>Your early days exploring the forest

>Your Mother's disappearance

>Father's nightly expeditions into the forest with Grandfather

>(Write-In)

>>3906150
>Your Mother's disappearance
Seems like a rather auspicious moment to think on it, especially considering the hints of real evil lurking in the forest just outside our solid unyielding family fortress of a manor

>>3906150
>Your Mother's disappearance

>>3906150
>Your Mother's disappearance
Since Stando/Cabin QM runs threads for about a week do you think we should open up the Pandora's box of SQR discussion so these last couple of days can be a bit more active or should we keep things as is in case it is going for longer? If the answer is yes, has anyone thought of the possibility that Judeo-Christan demons are in fact independent stands with the same body hopping properties King Crimson had while under the affects of Silver Chariot Requiem?

>>3907300
This smells dangerously like autism, bro. Also we are only 31 posts in this thread, don't take Stando lightly.

>>3907300
Save the autism for SQR. I'm sure the other anons will appreciate it.

>>3906162
>>3906169
>>3907300
Your Mother's disappearance

>>3907300
Cabin Quest has tended to be slower than SRQ, so it'll likely last mildly longer than a week.

>>3907781

The taste of the succulent flesh you had carefully baked over the course of two hours reminded you of your Mother's cooking. She was a quiet and unassuming woman, both qualities that your Father held paramount when it came to women. It was then no wonder why he'd married her when they had both graduated high school. Your parents never mistreated you, nor any of your siblings for that matter. However, life with them was made unsettling by their distance from everyone else, whether it be the townfolk or even their own children.

This odd environment that you grew up in was perhaps a result of the strangeness of John's Landing. However, everything began to change the day your Mother disappeared. It was in the Winter of 1972, a little over a decade ago when a great blizzard came over John's Landing, practically freezing the land. The ocean mist had risen and engulfed what was left untouched by the ice and snow that the blizzard brought. You were inside of the house, along with your siblings. In spite of the horrible weather, your Father still departed on his Nightly Hunt, to the protest of your Mother.

You do not completely remember what had happened next, your memories fragmented and barely legible. There was a blur from the snow, a strange grey thing grabbing your Mother and spiriting her off into wherever it had come from. A loud thunderous boom that had echoed from within the doorway of the home, followed by the angered cries from your Father.

He was never quite the same after that cold winter's day.

Finishing up the leg of lamb by your lonesome, lethargy begins to slowly creep up your limbs as you wash the dishes and clean up after yourself. It is likely a result of your afternoon meal, what with it being heavy, but you do not mind it.

What shall you do, now that you have enjoyed a good meal?

>Return to your Ancestor's study

>Perform maintenance on the Old Ancestral Musket

>Take a short nap

>Return to the Cellar and swap out your tools

>(Write-In)

>>3907827
>Perform maintenance on the Old Ancestral Musket

>>3907827
>Perform maintenance on the Old Ancestral Musket
In case of trouble, we need it to not jam on us

>>3907827
>Perform maintenance on the Old Ancestral Musket

>>3907950
>>3907873
>>3907846
Perform maintenance on the Old Ancestral Musket

>>3909143

You decide that it would be prudent of you to perform maintenance upon the family's old Ancestral Musket. It hasn't been used for at least a decade, what with it hanging up on your wall in the City, and you need it now more than ever, to defend yourself from whatever abominations that lurked these woods. First, you carefully clean off what you can from the surface of the musket's barrel, before you put steel wool down into the middle, scouring it. Blackened sludge drips from the barrel of the musket as you clean it with grime remover and water.

The buildup of patina on the wood's surface is scrubbed off and then sanded, the brass ramming rod still in good shape after all of these years. You then disassemble the musket, cleaning each individual part of the firing mechanism, replacing parts of it which had rusted away with serviceable parts salvaged from the Cellar. The underside of the barrel is scrubbed with your vigorous and vigilant hand, cleansed of all impurities. Reassembling the musket, you cock back the hammer and tentatively pull the trigger, the metal piece slamming into the frizzen.

You fit the jag with a new piece of flint, before you set it aside, now ready for action provided that you load the gun.

What shall you do?

>Prepare to explore the forest with the musket

>Return to your Ancestor's study

>Investigate the cellar more thoroughly

>(Write-In)

>>3909166
>Return to your Ancestor's study
Find more information on these things, and how to protect or better fight them in the inevitable scenario where the house is sieged.

>>3909166
>Return to your Ancestor's study
Lore

>>3909223
>>3909267

Before you can even think, you face the old Rowan door to your Ancestor's study once more. On your very first visit to your Ancestor's study, you felt an odd weariness and keen sense of foreboding, which you merely chalked up to the act of you performing an old taboo in the house of your family. But now that you have discovered more of the deeper secrets held within John's Landing, you have come to realize that your body was rebelling against you. For whatever reason, your flesh and primordial mind thought that the very study was anathema to it, and that it would surely perish if it were to approach it.

You regain control over your body, opening the door and into your Ancestor's study, with it as pristine and full of dust as it was before when you had first entered its unhallowed realm. There are still a myriad of tomes for you to discover, but you seek in specific one certain thing.

You seek a greater knowledge of the entities that dwelled within your Ancestral lands, and what better to discover it than the study of a man who had spent many a decade deciphering its dark secrets?

Where shall you search?

>Your Ancestor's Desk

>Play around with the Orrery

>Attempt to use the celestial tools in correspondence to the slowly setting sun

>(Write-In)

>>3910943
>Attempt to use the celestial tools in correspondence to the slowly setting sun
The whole room is laid out in such a way, perhaps this might unlock a secret or reveal something important? Not the first time the planets have revealed auspicious portents to those who seek them, and if the forest is filled with horrors that need to be fought off, this might be the thing...

>>3910943
>Attempt to use the celestial tools in correspondence to the slowly setting sun

>>3910943
>Attempt to use the celestial tools in correspondence to the slowly setting sun
What could possibly go wrong?

>>3911133
>>3910985
>>3910959
Attempt to use the celestial tools in correspondence to the slowly setting sun

Apologies, something came up again and I am once more busy. I really need to set a schedule for this quest.

>>3913191

The great bronze orrery in the center of the room moved in an odd manner, pausing every several seconds until it came to a complete stop after a minute. A second later, the orrery would begin to rotate its spheres once more, the black sun held in the middle spinning fast enough to make the symbol seem almost three dimensional. As the dying light of the sun kissed the edge of the orrery, the antique bronze began to glow in a most unsettling manner. Carefully, you begin to pace around the orrery, observing the pattern as the sun begins to set.

You come to the revelation that with a bit of tinkering, all of the planets would align once the sun itself was visible through the window. You began to adjust the various tools and measurement devices throughout the Ancestor's room, and wait in anticipation. Sunlight poured through the room like a bottle of spilled whiskey, messily refracted through the oddly designed window. The wisps of light converged into a stream that entered the spinning black sun right as it hit the peak of its speed, the planets on the orrery coming into alignment.

At once, the entire cabin seems to shake, dusting floating from the aged timber of the study, pages flapping wildly. Then it stopped. You exit downstairs, coming to the main room only to find that the cellar door was swung wide open, likely by the tremors that the cabin experienced.

What shall you do?

>Enter the cellar

>Go to sleep

>Prepare dinner

>(Write-In)

>>3913202
>Enter the cellar
It calls us, but we should also bring a flashlight or something we can recharge later.

>>3913202
>Enter the cellar
>Bring your gun and a flashlight
Clench your asscheeks lads we're goin in hot

>>3913940
>>3913463
Apologies for my lateness. Celebrated a family member's birthday yesterday and I have been busy.

Updating now.

>>3917045
Having once more found yourself before the entrance to the Cellar, you feel a sensation not unlike the tingling of gooseflesh, even if you know in your heart of hearts that your skin is still as smooth as the day you came out of the womb. You momentarily falter in your decision to enter without a weapon, grabbing a bright mechanical lantern that you had often used while camping, holding it in one hand while the other cradled your family's ancestral gun. It was loaded and not half cocked in the case that there was something odd within the depths of the cellar.

The lights within the cellar have seem to gone out, the crunch of glass beneath your boots indicating the reason why. You'd have to go buy a new set of lightbulbs if you'd wish for the cellar to be bright again. Pressing a button on the bottom of the lantern, the cellar is lit with the incandescently white glow of your lantern. There seems to be a spot of darkness that the light from your lantern does not reach, and upon closer inspection, a tunnel is revealed beneath the manor, The door was one of the cobblestone and wooden walls of the cellar, bent backwards by some ancient clockwork mechanism that seemed to have been attached to the Orrery.

The tunnel is dark, lit only by the bright white of your lantern, giving your gun an awfully grey glow.

Shall you proceed?

>Yes

>No

>>3917060
>No
We should find a way to ensure we do not get lost first. Some way to map the tunnel too.

>>3917142
Supporting

I apologize profusely for this, but life has caught up to me. I'm afraid that I am no longer able to get a good schedule, so I'll end this thread for now and probably create a twitter account for questing purposes.

Again, sorry for my inconsistent upload schedule. My absurdly high blood pressure is starting to get the better of me.

>>3919945
Do not fucking die STANDO. You can overcome this as with all things.

>>3919945
Hope to see you back here sooner or later, good luck.

>>3919945
Ay bruh, take all the time you need, you’re gonna be fine