Chateaugay Lake, 1902. Cinatha Aubay’s ill-fated scientific laboratory, converted from Seth Thomas’ clocktower boathouse, destroyed by fire after a freak storm, a tragedy many had hoped finally marked the end of her weird, unsettling, Wendigo Automaton inventions.
Cinatha (Sobbing softly): Rest now, my creation. May your restless spirit find peace…
22 years later. A chilling message reaches the legendary detective in Manhattan’s bustling Baker Avenue Hotel lobby.
SHERIFF NEMIER: Mr. Holmes. Thank God you’re here. These woods ain’t safe anymore.
Watson (Nervous): Brrr! It’s colder than a witch’s kiss in a brass brassiere out here! What kind of creature could leave a handprint like that?
Holmes (Examining the handprint, eyes narrowed) The automaton is not alone. There’s a spectral presence clinging to it. It seems the 1902 fire that destroyed Miss Aubay’s lab-boathouse, only freed the machine, not the vengeful spirit within. Keep your sidearms at the ready, gentlemen!
Watson (Gasps): Good lord! What monster could do this? And what manner of… Golden Dawn crockery… causes disembodied footprints to hover in the doorway? And those symbols drawn in blood… they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen! I say, Holmes — I’m utterly thunderstruck to say that I’m absolutely gobsmacked!
Sheriff Nemier (Spits): Dang Wendigo Robot, that’s what! Those gall-darn floatin’ tracks leading towards the lake, are bigger than any black bear I’ve ever seen!
Holmes Well noted, sir! Ahem. We’ll set out the hounds to track down this ethereal creature, but first… (Kneeling, scrutinizes the symbols): The symbols are of ancient origin, Watson. Native American, perhaps. A connection to the Wendigo legend?
The spoor lead the search party towards a confrontation with its quarry as they find themselves seemingly thrust into the absurd dime novel universe of H.G. Wells… a twisted world of horror and unholy possession of horrible creations that ought not to even exist!
A monstrous fusion. Machine and malevolent spirit.
HOLMES: (Thinking) The Wendigo itself isn’t evil. It’s a puppet, controlled by the ghost. We need to sever the connection.
Holmes holds a strange device, cobbled together from scavenged parts. It crackles with an electric aura.
The Wendigo laid to rest. But…
… is it truly over?
Chateaugay Lake Wendigo Life 
Leave a comment