Chapter #3Stanley's Night at the Museum by: Yote   Stanley was walking through campus towards his weekly roleplay group, his dungeon master manuals tucked beneath one scrawny arm, when the angry, grey clouds overhead broke, deluging him. He yelped, not for himself even though his thin t-shirt was quickly soaked through, but for the priceless 3rd Edition rulebook and the irreplaceable character sheets that the RP group had been working on for months. Cradling them close to his chest, he ran for the closest building he could find, straining open the heavy wooden door, and slipping out of the rain.
The smell of dust, old paper, varnish, and formaledhyde met his nose. He was standing inside the College museum, an old building containing an even older collection of artifacts from the College's early days, shipped back from strange and exotic lands by professors who were more adventurers and tomb raiders than teachers. Stanley envied them. Growing up he had dreamed of following in their footsteps, only to discover that everything had been explored. It was one of the reasons why he had become so into his fantasy roleplay sessions - at least they were exciting.
A bolt of lightning cast into sudden, sharp relief the shell of a long-dead Japanese spider-crab pinned to the wall, and the heroic adventurer Stanley gave a girlish shriek. He blushed, hoping nobody had heard, but other than the roll of thunder sound of the rain outside, the place was silent and empty. A stuffed, balding polar bear and a row of waxwork American pioneers watched him with empty eyes.
As the rain continued unabated, he began to walk among the exhibits. Soon he came upon one where the glass front of the cabinet had cracked down the middle. Black goop dribbled through the crack, forming a spreading puddle on the floor. Curious, he looked closer. A brush sat on a small wooden pedestral within the cabinet, the dark fluid dripping from its tip.
Looking to his right, Stanley saw the skeletal remains of a four-legged creature that resembed a dog from the neck down, but with a skull that was distinctly human. A large, round bullet hole had been put through the temple.
A description of the display was written on a placard beside it.
[Cambodia would prove to be Professor Rupert Jones' final expedition, commenced in the spring of 1882. Though he himself was lost, presumed dead, his expedition returned home, carrying with it a single artifact, the Rubber Brush seen here to the left, an item that has thus far defied rational explanation. His journal, seen to the left of the Brush, documents his journey and offers a detailed account of Jones' deteriorating mental stability, which may go some way to explaining his mysterious disappearance. In it, Jones describes the mystical properties of the Brush, its ability to shape and alter the body without harm.
To the right is displayed the skeleton of a creature that was discovered in Professor Rupert Jones' tent on the night of his disappearance. It belongs to no species yet known, and appears to show a mix of human and canine traits. It was shot dead by Jones' men and remains to this day a scientific enigma.]
The crack down the front of the case was just wide enough to permit a hand. He couldn't help it. Lucky I've got thin arms, he thought for the first time ever, reaching inside and plucking the Brush from its pedestal. "Ability to shape and alter the body', huh? So what are you, a wand of +10 shapeshifting?" He twirled the brush in his hands and a warm tingle flowed through his arm. It was almost like it was meant for him...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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