Fine, Vanessa, fine, thank you. After a moments pause, Rupert reconsiders and says with a wry smile, Well actually, I've been better. Agnes, Bertrand, please leave me with these fine people. I need to say my goodbyes. And in some cases my hellos and my goodbyes! With that, Agnes walks slowly out of the room without saying a word, weeping all the way. Bertrand, at first, doesn't move at all, but something in Rupert's look causes him to relent and he, too, heads out of the room. Not before shooting the newcomers an accusing glance.
Once they're gone, Rupert sighs and begins again. I'm an old man. That much is quite obvious, but I don't have a lot of time left on this earth. I've done things I'm proud of, and things I'm not so proud of. I'm going to get right to the heart of the matter as time is short. I'm sorry I don't have time for introductions, but it is good to see some friendly faces here before my end.
When I was a much younger man, I fell in with a group of like-minded fellows in the study of occult and paranormal activities. Our de facto leader was a man named Marion Allen. Our studies grew to such an extent that we ended up purchasing an old farmhouse out in Ross's Corners just outside the city. Here we would perform rituals and seances away from the prying eyes of the urbanites.
Our final experiment was a disaster and in retrospect was something we should never have gotten involved in. We summoned a ... thing ... I ... don't really know how else to describe it. Some cosmic evil "force". We were satisfied that our doings had bound the entity to the farmhouse and that it wouldn't be able to leave, so we abandoned it. None of us were willing to go back and do what needed to be done. The thing still exists out there. Still lives in that old farmhouse. It needs to be dealt with. The spell we used to bind it to the house will cease once the last the summoners dies. I am the last of our group.
Please, I beg you, help me right my wrong. Don't let this thing loose on the world as I did. Go to the house in Ross's Corners, and banish it! Rupert takes a breath and continues. There on the nightstand, take that metal box. Inside is all the data you'll need to do what needs to be done. Take it!
The detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods -- the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.