THE DOMINION GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY

No sooner had I received my .455 Webley service revolver in the post, along with a monkey and a plywood violin, than I had a call to use it.  There we were, just outside the forest near Hattieville, only just having finished dousing the fire for the night. It was then we heard the very loud and low growl from the trees.

Cartwright held his lantern high and made a few steps as I unholstered my revolver. Within a blink, Cartwright’s lantern had broken on the ground and he was gone. Poor blighter hadn’t even a chance to scream.

I pealed off a round into the darkness and another roar was the only response.  Wairigu skidded into the light, chambering a his .303 and aiming where I had. He fired and all was silent. Our shoulders relaxed somewhat. Several other of the expedition emerged from their tents in apprehension.

“All is well, my friends! We have scared it away.”

“All is bloody well NOT well! Cartwright was taken!”, Warisin and Sumadi’s mouths dropped open in shock. “Let’s after him!”

The men rushed to their rifles and shoes and we set off into the darkness.  Booth hung a lantern on his rifle barrel and moved before us.

To our right, a shot rang out and we saw Graham’s kicking boots disappear into the thick. Another shot, a pause. Another.  We daren’t fire lest we kill Graham ourselves.

Then nothing.

We searched for as long as we dared for the men, but the trails went cold. Even the Garifuna couldn’t track the great cat, nor our compatriots.  We retreated to the comparative safety of camp, re-lit the fire and sat with our backs to the tent, staring out into the dangerous night.

In the morning, we resumed the hunt. The beast was undiscovered, but we found most of Cartwight and Graham high in the bloody trees above where we’d stopped and turned back only hours before.

I wrote two letters and Warisin couriered them to Hattieville while we broke camp.

“There I was… in the barrens of the Arctic. Team lost, ship crushed in the ice, and pursued by a near invisible beast! I’d decided to make for Steffansson’s expedition and forfeit the glory of discovery and naming land features after myself. I’d run out of rifle cartridges and had broken the butt of Father’s old Winchester across the nose of the white bear. The remnant of the rifle became a makeshift splint, which was much needed after the monster swiped at my leg. At least I still had eight rounds in my new Colt 1911 and the compass worked better the further south I ventured. If I made it to Steffanson’s party, I’d have plenty of crow to fill my belly.” -Captain A.E. Sable, recounting his tale to the Halifax Morning Chronicle, September 1918.

After hearing of a curious old Native legend, and armed with a crumbling paper map citing the same, CE Valour consulted an old prospector and sloppy drunkard, name of Windy Pete, in a saloon. The prospector once staked a claim in the area in question, but was scared off by ‘monsters’. Most of what he said sounded insane, and smelled of fermentation and urine, but the lucid bits jibed with the legend.  Too excited to round up a team of DGS members, CE hastened to Kananaskis Country a day’s ride from Fort Palliser.  After some bushwhacking, she came to the dry creek bed of which she’d been told.

This must be the place!

Almost there, by Jupiter!

CE found the 5 foot stela, just as described by Windy Pete, with mysterious writings and drawings carved into it and took a charcoal rubbing.  Some of it read like Ancient Gozerian, which CE dabbled in back in University.  As the words became visible on her rubbing, she sounded them out:

“Klaatu barada necktie, Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

What was THAT?!

Something sounding like a thousand elementary school desks thrown against then rolled down a mountain face echoed not far off. CE leapt up to investigate.

What a wonderful discovery!

Valour soon came across several rises of antediluvian black stone steps leading to a fallen temple. Neither the legend nor the prospector had mentioned these. The sky grew dark and screeched like grinding shale. A mist formed on the earth. She carried onward, headlong into mystery.

Could this be a lost New World civilization?!

Smug in discovery

Valour, having carefully noted the location of the temple, stairs, and stela, walked back to the trail head trying to think of what to name her newly discovered prehistoric civilization.

No one has actually heard from or seen CE Valour in some time and the Dominion Geographic Society is considering mounting a search party.

Once the spring flood waters abate a might.