No manure, there we were, four paranormal investigators going on a well deserved ski vacation in the Colorado mountain. Gotta get out of Arkham every once in a while, relax, break some limbs. It's a natural. Alas, the snow got a little intense and we had to stop at an old mining town.
Well, on the way in there was an unfortunate interaction between our car, a snowbank, and an old native American. The car got the worst of it, the front end pretty banged up. The snowbank wasn't exactly unscathed, but no one seemed to care. The native american ran off into the woods yelling 'Chickatone,' 'Rigatoni', 'Chicken Parmesan,' or something to that effect.
Well, copper mining in the valley had been going downhill for quite some time. A flurry of snowed in strangers was as close as they had to excitement for quite some time. There was a businessman, fairly straight forward, at least until he ran through his window and over a cliff. Very strange. A little digging showed he was here with a contract with the local mining company. There was a woman. Not friendly. Didn't want to say much to anybody. I suppose the sanity loss wasn't entirely her fault. Her head here, her legs there, blood everywhere… The sanity loss was likely the fault of… A bear. Yep. Big. Claws. Mean. Never mind that bears hibernate in the winter, the initial suspect is a bear.
And us. The local cops don't seem to care for investigators from Arkham. While none of us are as big as a bear, or has claws like a bear, or hibernates, there are four of us, we each have tiny little fingernails, we're 100 to 200 pounds each, we each sleep about a quarter of the time, so somehow together we collectively might make up a bear.
Time to investigate. We have established…
The general store will give out free booze if we will just go away.
Deep in the stacks of the local newspapers are a series of stories about something vaguely bear like that shows up, kills a few folks, then goes dormant for a bunch of years.
The big shot owner of the local mining company, whose ancestors were once victims of one of the old 'bear' attacks, seems to like to show off his ability to throw spells, wanted to congratulate us on figuring out as much as we have, and seems to want us to go away. We are outsiders here, and our meddling will lead to no good.
We also heard some noise outside the hotel. Silly us, having no concept of conserving sanity points, rushed to take a look. It looks more like a wolf than a bear. It's bigger than a breadbox. It leaves footprints.
While there is no formal reservation in the area, the 'bear' might be associated with indians and/or the 'Watching Hills.' A visit to the Watching Hills was under consideration.
Rigatoni!
