By Dennis Detwiller
Thule, the Nazi Atlantis, mythical domestic of Aryan superbeings that governed prehistory. Thule was once presupposed to be a Nazi delusion, but if a defector from the SS occult sciences department, the Karotechia, brings evidence of Thule's fact, Delta Green's path is apparent: the alien urban and its technological and occult secrets and techniques has to be denied to the enemy in any respect expenditures. however the actual masters of Thule are combating their very own conflict. A traitor from the prior endangers their eons-old plan to form the long run. The survival of mankind is dependent upon the destiny of Thule; yet to break Thule or reserve it? Which selection will shop mankind? Written via Dennis Detwiller with hide paintings by means of Samuel Araya.
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Extra resources for Delta Green: Denied to the Enemy (A Call of Cthulhu Mythos Novel of World War II)
Oh, this is fine! You will like this. ” Frank excitedly hopped his way into the dark, rapidly moving through the stacks of rubbish. Stopping he glanced back at Bruning for a moment when he reached the far wall and held out his hand. ” Bruning joined him and handed him the lamp. Frank opened a small door in the back wall concealed beneath an old tapestry. He lifted the heavy rug out for Bruning to enter the doorway with the hand that held the lamp, its beam playing crazily around the room. When he swung the lamp away into the interior of the room, Frank’s cigarette was the only light visible, a blood-red eye on the shadow that was his face.
Oh, no thank you, sir. I have been having a bit too much of it as is. ” Bruning pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat near the window facing Weber. The wind outside shrieked, the rain fell. Seconds and then minutes ticked away on the hall clock. Weber’s hand traced the rim of his cap in a nervous gesture of habit, flattening the felt on the lip between gloved fingers. Back and forth. Back and forth. ” Bruning coughed, waking Weber from his reverie. “Oh. Excuse me. Hm. Well. ” “I recall a lecture on it.
Frank lazily lifted a musty tarp from some sort of mold-rotted divan and considered it, as if it were some terribly engaging artifact. ” Frank let out a grunt which could have been a cough or a laugh. ” Frank laid his jacket down carefully on the dusty divan and perched like a bird on the edge of it, carefully pulling his trouser legs up before sitting. ” Frank pulled out a small notebook from his pants pocket, flipped two pages into it and read, squinting in the dim light. “Age: Sixty-one. Two brothers; one resides in the Congo—Jewish as well, obviously.