Editing The Stars Are Right: Richard Chamberlin

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[[File: Richard Chamberlin.jpeg|thumb|c|Richard Chamberlin]]

==Richard Chamberlin==

''played by Tom Albin''

A writer of weird tales.

==Biography==

==Affiliations==

==Associates==

==Journal Entries==

Journal Entry, October 20th 1932

I am taking time now on my trip home to try to recollect and make sense of the impossible events I took part in yesterday. 

My memory already clouds as if my mind is trying to convince me it was a dream that I could dismiss. So many strange dreams, what is one more? I woke rested and with no dreams. 

After a quick clean up, I headed over to Ms. Emma Knight's El Dorado  club. It was only last night that we resolved to defy the evacuation order and meet head on the demonic terror that the Governor had warned of on his radio address. 

It was miraculous that I was not detained in route to the club as the city was under martial law. On my way I saw evidence of soldiers and violence but what was most noticeable was the queer feeling in the air. The air was heavy. Several times I was shocked as if scooting across the carpet. The sky was dark and overcast. The streetlights still shone and the few cars I saw were using the headlamps. There was no doubt that it was an ominous day. 

I arrived at the club but Ms. Knight was not there. I would never see her again. My dubious but loyal friend Lars was there eating breakfast along with the charming Ms. VanValkenberg. They had been moved by the promise of breakfast to come to the club before me. Noticing that there was no staff to be seen, I resolve myself to a liquid breakfast. We waited for our two absent ladies and eventually our young singer arrived.

As we continued to wait for Ms. Knight, Lars noticed an odd smoke above our heads. Lars went to test it and took a long drag from his cigar. He exhaled and we saw that our odd smoke did not move in the direction of the cigar smoke.

I immediately suggested that we exit the building. Lars suggests we make several incendiary devices known as Molotov Cocktails. We make our bombs and leave the club. When we got outside it became clear that this smoke was in several places on the block. Noticing that the smoke was converging into one mass I resolved to follow. The mass moved toward Central Park. I approached the smoky mass and noticed a buzzing sound, a buzzing sound like in that strange dream of that unearthly woman. 

Lars had caught up with me with and was immediately moved to violence against this buzzing mass. Ms. Evans and Ms. VanValkenberg trailed behind him as if entranced by its’ alien nature. Lars proceeded to throw a garbage can at the mass. The only effect was to cause the mass to take on a cylindrical shape. The citrine like stone is produced which seems to have an effect but what exactly that was, was unclear. 

After some debate, I assist Lars in pushing a nearby auto into the buzzing cylinder, to no effect. With a spark of imagination I shout to Lars to shoot the gas tank,  which he does with astounding results. The resulting explosion completely dissipated the buzzing cylinder. This seems to bring the attention of other dark cylinders. After great effort with our bombs,  we are able to make our escape and move further into the park toward an encampment of soldiers. 

When I enter the camp some soldiers confront me. I explain that fire seems to be very effective against the buzzing cylinders. The soldiers  move us to a medical tent and post a guard. While Ms. VanValkenberg distracts the guard in the tent with us, I pour the contents of my final cocktail onto a cot and toss my cigar on it. It goes up in flames. I rush out of the tent shouting about fire and move into another tent during the confusion. 

Rummaging through the lockers that I found I come up with 6 grenades, a revolver and accompanying ammunition, which I promptly stow away in my coat. I exit through the back of the tent to hear howls that froze my blood. I stare in horror as I see a black hound tear a soldier apart. 

My stomach turns as I hear the hellhound's demon spittle sizzle on the dead man's flesh. I begin to run. I can't remember how but fortune brought me together again with Lars and the young ladies. We madly ran from the park only to find the howling hounds following us. We franticly break into a near by auto to hopefully speed away.

It is no use for the hounds surround us. I looked into the steaming maw of the hound preparing to die when I saw our savior. He was dressed as Chinaman of some sort. He seemed to quickly float down the side of a building down to us. He reached out his hands toward the hound. He was wearing some sort of gloves and glowed with an eerie glow as the hound succumbed to him. His manner and movement were hauntingly familiar, again like the dream. 

Our angel was gone as quickly as he arrived. Lars finally was able to the auto started. Ms. Evans had produced a card of some sort and read us an address that she was sure would be a safe place. No one having the mental capacity to challenge the notion we headed for the only safety we knew of. 

We are moving for only moment when our path is blocked by another black hound. I reach into my coat to lob a grenade when I am quite certain I had lost my mind. I was not in the car. I was not even in this world. 

The sky was flashing and moving through all shades of red then purple then back again. There was no earth to stand on yet I saw large megalithic stone towers rise up around me. Then I was transported back to the car and we are moving past a group of the demonic black hounds. I reach for a grenade and throw it at the hounds, disabling several of them. I begin to sigh in relief when the hope is snatched away from me by a horrendous thud. 

The roof dents in and we are faced by another black hound that lands on the hood of the car with a thud. The car stops and begins to smoke as we scramble out of the car. I begin to run away when it happens again.

I am again in the alien space. Under a flashing sky I am faced by the impossible. It is a hideous octopod mass with dozens of eyes and tentacle like protrusions. I am speechless in the face of such a monstrosity. Again the unreal nightmare flashes away and I am on the street. 

I turn to see a delivery truck tearing down the street. The truck screeches to a halt and the driver yells for us to get in. Pleased to see that although I had lost track of them, my companions had not lost me, we pile into the truck. Happy to be safe again, if only for the moment, I thank all that is good and just in the world for I find that some of the pilfered booze had made it with me. I take a swig and quickly pass the bottle to Lars. We nod to the ladies but they decline. We soon arrive at some sort of headquarters for a military effort. It also happens to be the address Ms. Evans was given. 

We enter into this building and find that whatever it's original purpose was it was clearly a hospital now. The attendants spot us and I discover that I have some sort of wound on my head. It must have happened during all the terrible commotion with the hounds. I now begin to realize that I was in some sort of traumatic trance and only now am coming to my senses. 

I begin to look around the room as my senses begin to return and become undone again. I see that the staff appears to be one and the same species as the haunting girl from my dream. I begin to see that the dream was prophetic of sorts. I am deeply troubled. 

After my wounds are tended to my companions and I are brought upstairs to meet a Mr. Grimaldi. As we are led through the room of injured I find myself getting more and more agitated. We are brought upstairs to Mr. Grimaldi. I immediately ask what manner of creatures are manning the hospital. 

As plain as day Grimaldi explains that these creatures are Seelie. I explain that I know very well what the Faye are supposed to be, fallen angels caught between heaven and hell. He replies that what I said was not quite true. His lack of certainty disturbs me. Impatiently he pleads that there is no time for explanations and that he needs all able bodies. We are given kits filled with some items that seem to have purpose and others unexplainable. I do manage to arm myself with a shotgun, a weapon I have far more experience with.

As soon as we exit the building we are faced with the onslaught of nightmarish un-reality. Strange milkweed - like spores fill the air seeming to cause madness everywhere they went. A large man, maybe six feet three inches catches my attention. He is riding a bicycle. Suddenly he is struck by lightening or what I think is lightening. I soon realize that it was no flash and that a golden tendril was inside the man. He is moved like a puppet toward a swirling vortex of the spores. Looking at vortex, there were 13 people dancing around it. They are laughing, even playing. Beyond these mad dancers other people are walking aimlessly screaming in terror, still others are no more than gibbering madmen, terrified beyond speech or comprehension.
 
Tearing myself away from this fantastic scene, I move to help the tendriled man. I see her and the world stops. The angel from my dream was before me kneeling with a child. The mad dancers, the tendrils, and the spores of insanity they all fade away. 

Entranced I move toward her my spine throbbing with waves of erotic energy. I become aware that one of the spores is about to fall on her and move quickly still under some sort of enchantment. I scoop her up into my arms and move her away. She is clearly annoyed and a slap to my head pulls me out of my trance. I put her down and try to get my bearings.
 
Suddenly I am knocked over by a blast. Artillery blasts go off all around me. I scramble back to the truck. I do not make it. I see a giant demon dog heading toward me with one of these Faye riding upon it. 

After all that I have seen this new sight just washes over me. I am then taken aside by a stranger named Theo. He takes me back to the safe house and then to a place where we could talk. He proceeds to speak to me of my dream as if he was there. The insanity of this day and the repeated echo of that dream weighed on me like some horrendous fate that I could see but was helpless to change or even cease to participate. 

This terrible power leaving me awestruck and pushing me like a some pawn on a chessboard and this man knows about it. The man explains to me that my dream woman, the one and only woman that I had felt the hopeless obsession that I can only think is true love, must be sacrificed to put an end to this madness. She must be sacrificed by me. I am warned that if the terrible powers that seek entry into our world are not held back by this sacrifice, this madness would be all there is and reality itself destroyed.
 
To my shame I knew he spoke the truth. As I write this and look at what I had done I know that I had no way of knowing that it was the truth. I simply did. I knew that like  many times that day, that I was merely a pawn, merely an instrument unable to resist my part in this ritual. The worse yet, a part of me wanted to give in. To escape the terror of the flashing sky a part of me would have stood on a mound of children and sang Hosannas’ to Lucifer if it meant my salvation. 

Theo led me to my victim. Together we delicately convinced her of the truth of the situation. When we gained her consent Theo took his leave. I took her to a small secluded room. She started to warn me of some sort of virus but then decided it was not important. I assure her that I will not leave her. She takes her seat. I move behind her and take my place. My hand moves through her hair, as I briefly caress her. I place my hand on her forehead and then quickly slice her throat from ear to ear. I hold her bleeding body close to me as she passes. Suddenly she liquefies and pours through my arms. My tears follow her. 

Theo called her a lamb, a sacrificial lamb. This one not to remove sin but to propitiate some alien power. I've been played. I've been cast as villain my destiny to kill love itself. All to save us, the cowardly survivors. I know now what it is to be Judas. I know what it is to be Pontius Pilot. Unlike them a just God has offered me salvation. I have been presented a path of service where I can find meaning for my murder and redemption for my soul.
 
I caught up with Theo again and told him of my intentions. He brings me to a group of men one of which I recognize to be Grimaldi from the Faye hospital safe house. There is some inside conversation going on that is beyond me but I did make some things out. There seems to be some sort of animal court in the north and a contention over a throne. There is mention of Medea's children, the Seelie and the UnSeelie as well. The notion of UnSeelie struck me as sure trouble. I return now to home to try to pull myself together and prepare myself for the next chapter in this strange tale.

==Documents==

===Newspaper Articles===

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[[category: The Stars Are Right|Chamberlin, Richard]]
[[category: Player Characters|Chamberlin, Richard]]
[[category: Manhattan Ghost Story|Chamberlin, Richard]]
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 ==Biography==
-Richard Chamberlin was born February 13, 1892 in Branson Missouri to a lawyer and a teacher. Despite being born in a comparatively privileged home, Richard's life was just as steeped in superstition as everyone else in the area. His sisters made dumb suppers for unknown future husbands. His aunt had cured his night terrors by hanging a charm against witches above his bed. Although surrounded by true believers it was a series of nightmares when he was 12 that ignited his obsession to understand what might be agent behind all the spook stories his friends and neighbors told.This dream, more real than an memory, drives him to chase every legend of encounter with the beyond that he might hear about.
-His formal education was limited by the area. He was however, an insatiable reader, and continued to teach himself after he left school. It was during this time that he wrote his first short stories. His lack of formal high school did not stop him from attending college and he graduated from Pittsburg State University in 1914 with a degree in Journalism and Literature.
-He moved to St. Louis in 1919 pursuing the site of an un-named pre-Aztec city and legends of a mysterious dark man in black. This was when he wrote his short story 'The Devil from the Mound'. He stayed in St. Louis for a while investigating the surrounding states. It was during this time he wrote 'The Lurker in the Fog' from the investigation in Barbourville, Kentucky, 'Grow!' following a lead on a miraculous farmer into Adams County Illinois, and 'Green Glows the Hill' following tales of strange lights and miniature men in Stahl, Kansas.
-Unfortunately short stories and amateur anthropology do not make much money. Richard makes the majority of his money writing romance novels under the pen name Sylvia Hotchkiss for Mills & Boon. His most popular novel is 'The Virtuous Harlot'.
 ==Affiliations==