Okay, so I'm still a flake. The wells of inspiration have been hard to find and damn near impossible to plumb. Which is why this week the sponsor is Half-Assed Perseverance. Are you having a hard time giving a fuck about shit you do? Just plug away at it whenever you can be assed. You've probably got something else you could do, so see how you feel after doing that. Fuck it, you'll get it done eventually; with half-assed perseverance!
We spent several days with the villagers corroborating their story and establishing a plan of action. In the end our plans for vengeance were co-opted by cooler heads. Plans for fiery retribution were replaced by more insidious, institutional agendas. The village elders were truly brilliant in their maneuvering, not only had the deal with Mr. Portfeld been carefully worded to protect their interests it wasn't their only deal. Several other companies had approached the villagers, a fact that they had used to draw the attention of their local administrator; a brutal man whom they had managed to sway to their sympathy.
Their scheme was a good bit more ghastly than my initial hopes for a whorl of hellfire and gunpowder, almost enough to stir my sense of guilt. Instead we settled for letting them go about their sinister business and returning to Miskatonic. Newberg was displeased by the loss of Mr. Portfeld but quite glad to get underway building his factory. He was even quite happy to accept my recommendation to take on several of my former students as high level functionaries there. The sort of students with strong moral fiber and a ready habit of social responsibility, students with open minds and extensive background in eldritch mysteries. If anyone would be able to do right on that island it would be them.
I just hope that, in time, I'll be able to live down their disappearances.
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