This was our first session of 2020 and this time the player that is Bolan couldn’t make it. I tried keep story moving but not have too much of it given aways as I wanted the whole group to be there for some of the meatier parts.

All the previous entries for the campaign are tucked away on the blog as well.

Things are getting Spicey

Tuesday February 3rd

The next morning, gathered at Bolan’s flat, Singh reported he had dealt with the bodies and painting from the flat. The others told Singh about their break-in and what they had found.

Feeling shaken after the recent traumatic events, Bolan wanted to have some time to try and recover himself a little. He opted to spend the day trying to try and calm down. Singh, Constanza and MacTavish conferred together to figure out what their next steps would be.

They had found a couple of possible leads in the cellar of the Penhew foundation, a warehouse in Limehouse and A shop in Soho. The first to visit the Chaudhary warehouse in Limehouse first, followed by Empire Spices in Soho.  


Situated close to some docks on the Thames, the warehouse was easy to find on Ropemakers fields. Passing by the dock area, there was only one ship nearby, the ‘Ivory Wind’, which was moored up within close range of the warehouse.

Watching the building for a few minutes, they spotted several workers moving around but nothing unusual. Deciding to take a risk, they strode into the front of the warehouse and wandered around as if they should have been there. Workers inside seemed to be too busy to care about a trio of strangers, so ignored them.

After a few minutes searching, they came across a stack of crates, all marked with the Penhew foundation as the point of origin. It was hard to tell exactly how many crates had been arranged here as they had been stacked several deep, but they estimated about 14 or 15.

At that point a shout went up behind them. A burley worker was walking towards with an angry scowl. Trying to stay cool, MacTavish explained they wanted to speak to Chaudhary about a possible shipping contract. The man, not entirely convinced, pointed towards an office on one side of the warehouse and told them to go in there.

The office was cramped, a large desk filling most of the room. Inside was a man in his mid-40s, wearing a suit and pouring over some papers on the desk. He had a bushy moustache and a kind face which broke into a smile as he they walked in. Greeting them warmly, he introduced himself as Puneet Chaudhary and asked what they wanted. MacTavish broke into a bluster, tried to convince Chaudhary that they had a worthwhile business deal that they’d like to discuss with him. He had whiskey he wanted to ship to China but wanted to keep it away from the export office.

For all his attempted charm, MacTavish was unable to convince Chaudhary. The warehouse owners face fell quickly into a deep scowl. He started shouting angrily at them, telling them that he didn’t want to sully his reputable business with such dealings. He turfed them out of the office and watched them closely as they left the warehouse.

Heading away and back into the heart of London, a hiss from a side alleyway drew their attention. A figure lurked at the edge of the alley, beckoning them towards the darkness. Cautiously moving towards the shape, they could see that there was only a single figure. As they approached, it revealed itself to be a man in his 70s cautiously watching the street around the Chaudhary warehouse.

“I know you. You’re that lot that went to see Barrington, he told me to keep a watch out in case you turned up. I’m John Craig, I’ve been keeping an eye on this place.”

He revealed he was an ex-police detective who had overseen the Egyptian murders. He’d been removed from the case and forced to retire early. Barrington was one of his former subordinates and Craig was helping to try and crack the case. Craig explained he suspected there was something going on between the foundation, this warehouse, a spice shop in Soho and the Blue Pyramid club.

After being told they hadn’t found anything useful in the warehouse, Craig told them he would be keeping an eye on the place a bit longer. He also said he would try and let them know if he finds something else out.

They left, heading to Soho, to find the Empire Spices shop.

Empire Spices

The spice shop was on a busy street, but few customers seemed to be going in and out. Waiting until there was a lull, the trio entered to find a myriad of pleasant smells filling the air. Herbs and Spices filled jars and bottles, which lined the walls. Tables around the shop floor had jars neatly arranged on them. From the back of the shop, a slender, incredibly beautiful woman, glided towards them. Greeting them with a delicate smile, she asked how she may assist them.

Singh asked about spices and made small talk with her for a while, trying to tease any information out of her that may be relevant. After a little discussion around popular Egyptian spices, the shopkeeper mentioned she had many contacts around the Mediterranean and the Middle East. She explained she used these contacts to help with gathering produce as well as provide information to expeditions bound for Egypt.

When asked if she remembered the Carlyle Expedition, she frowned for a second in concentration, as if thinking back and then said she did remember. She explained she had assisted the Penhew Foundation with information, guides and contacts to speak to when they got to Egypt. As well, she gave some background information about the region the expedition had been travelling to.

Singh, sensing there was something that she wasn’t telling them, drew himself up and stepped towards her. He growled that he knew she was hiding something, she should tell them quickly before things turned nasty.

Withdrawing from his menacing presence, the woman called out loudly.

“Edjo. EDJO! Come here now!”

A tall figure peeled itself out of the shadows, stepped quickly towards the woman. Placing himself between her and Singh he drew himself to his full height. Although not quite as big as Singh, he was able to still block the investigator from getting too close to the shopkeeper.

As the tension levels reached an almost electric level, the small bell above the door jangled noisily as a man in crisp white chefs clothing came scurrying in. He began to select spices, scooping up jars in his arms with loud clattering noises, hardly glancing at the others in the room but chattering away to himself as he gathered the jars.

Realising now wouldn’t be a good time to cause a scene, Singh stepped back, watching the man carefully. They left the shop with the woman watching them as they left.

The day wore on and by this time it was mid-afternoon. The Blue Pyramid club was a few streets away, so they made that their next stop.

The Blue Pyramid

The club itself was located over a row of shops with the small club doorway next to a greengrocer. After knocking, a smartly dressed doorman opened the door and greeted them politely, asking for their membership cards. Explaining they’re not members but would like to join, the doorman bowed and admitted them. Not being members wasn’t a problem as the club was happy to have new people join, he told them.

After a brief overview of the house rules, they filed up the narrow stairs to the club area. A small corridor with a pair of doors along its length, led to a ballroom. The doors opened to a small coffee room and a drawing room with few members sitting chatting and drinking. The ballroom was much busier. A stage at one end was the main focus of this room. A belly dancer was performing to a small crowd gathered in the room. Wall hangings depicting Egyptian scenes covered most of the walls, while a bar was near the door serving drinks to patrons. 

A heavy-set Egyptian man was wandering the floor and chatting to club members. Glancing over at the investigators, he plodded over and greeted them warmly.

“Hello. You are new here. I am Abdul Nawisha, owner of the Blue Pyramid and I welcome you to my humble club. I am very honoured to have you join us here.”

He chatted amiably with them for a while, discussing the club and how it got its name. When asked about any information about the string of Egyptian murders he politely explained that he knew of them but didn’t have any information about them. Only what he had read in the papers.

“I look forward to seeing you again here but please enjoy your time today.” He said before leaving to chat to others in the room.

Settling down in some chairs to watch the show, the group was surprised to have a round of drinks brought to them. They hadn’t ordered any, but MacTavish found a note saying “Meet me at midnight under the arches outside” written on his napkin.

There was no indication of who sent the note but, glancing round, MacTavish thought he may have caught one of the dancers looking their way.

Waiting in the club until nearly midnight, they left quietly and found a series of stone arches close by, a figure could be seen standing under one of them. When it spotted them, it came forward into the light, they could see it was one of the girls they had seen dancing earlier.

She came towards them with a hurried step and introduced herself as Yalesha. She warned them that they could be attracting attention in the club by asking the wrong questions, especially about the Egyptian murders. A cult used the club as a meeting point and she suspected they had a connection to the murders. Explaining she wanted revenge on the cult because they had murdered her boyfriend, Badru. She asked them if they could help her. He had been killed in retaliation when a member of the cult had made a pass at her. Badru had got involved and then been killed for threatening the man.

When they agreed to assist, she told them more about the cult’s activities at the club. Every month, a truck would arrive and take a large group of Blue Pyramid members to a secret location outside of London. The next meeting was to be soon.

As they talked, Constanza and MacTavish realised that there were a couple of men approaching from the direction of the club. At that point a large black car roared out of a side street and pulled up next to the group. Four men jumped out and the two others ran to join them.

Growling a challenge, five of the men rushed forward while one tried to grab Yalesha and pull her into the car.

Two of them rushed towards Constanza, one missing but the other hitting the Peruvian with a knife, drawing some blood. Constanza retaliated by smashing his club into the man and sending him flying with a sickening crunch.

Singh grappled with one, each man drawing blood from the other, while MacTavish tried to help Yalesha and get her attacker away from her.

Constanza’s blood was on fire now. His club made short work of the next two in his path while MacTavish and Singh finished the rest.

The last of the cultists slipped to the floor with a muffled thud. Despite taking a few wounds, it had been a short fight. Yalesha cautiously looked around for signs of any more attackers. Saying she wouldn’t be going back to the club because they must be onto her, she headed off into the night after leaving them with her contact details.

Gathering up the bodies and putting them into the car, they drove to more secluded area and dumped it along with the corpses.


As they had been curious about the contents of the crates in Chaudhary’s warehouse, they had planned to go back and break in. Arriving back at the address during the night when it was quiet, they carefully approached the front of the building. MacTavish was able to open the lock with only a minor effort and they slipped inside.

Finding the crates in the warehouse was easy as they hadn’t been moved yet. Prying open a couple of the crates was quick work. Inside there was a strange collection of valves, struts, machine parts and radio tubes. MacTavish pocketed one of the more unusual items to try and study it later.

Constanza meanwhile, had found a crate packed with strange statues, knives and what looked like the skin from a pair of feet. This monstrous find was cured and looked as if they could be worn like shoes. Shivering with disgust and carefully putting them back, Constanza closed the lid and they left the warehouse.

As they headed away from the warehouse, they heard a commotion coming from the docks area where a figure could be seen staggering drunkenly towards the ship they had seen earlier. Jeers rang out from the deck of the ship as the man stumbled his way up the gangplank. Everyone was so focused on watching to see if he would fall in or not that they didn’t notice the three of them, slipping away into the night.


This was our last session of 2019 and sadly the player who is Singh couldn’t make it. Fortunatly the others managed to not die without him around to keep them under control.

Unlike New York they managed to complete a break in without a full strength team, without setting fire to half of the city as well. I think thats a good result to be honest.

All the previous entries for the campaign are tucked away on the blog as well.

Sunday February 1st – The evening

After the events at Miles house, the group agreed to split up. Bolan, MacTavish and Constanza would go and check out the Penhew Foundation when it opened up on Monday. Meanwhile Singh would help dispose of the lizard person corpse, the remains in the cellar and the paintings in his studio.

Monday February 2nd

The Penhew Foundation

Shortly after it’s opening time, Bolan, MacTavish and Constanza arrived at the main door of the Penhew Foundation. They were greeted by a cheery doorman who smiled and held the door open for them. Enquiring about the possibility meeting with Edward Gavigan, the doorman pointed them towards the reception area and told them to speak to the front desk.

The lobby of the foundation was a large open space with display cases and statues from Egypt arranged around the room. Several bookcases lined the walls filled with books and the occasional small statue. Off to each side was a collection of tables and chairs with several people stitting at, leafing through books. Behind a desk in the middle of the floor, a young woman watched them approach and greeted them with a smile.

“Good morning gentlemen, we can we help you?” she enquired.

Explaining they wanted to speak to Gavigan about their friend Jackson Elias, Bolan asked if he was free at any point today. Asking them to wait, she picked up a phone on her desk, and spoke to someone explaining there was a group of men wanting to speak to Mr Gavigan. After listening to the reply, she turned back to tell them that Mr Kinnery would be along to speak to them shortly.

Taking the time to examine the artefacts in the lobby area, MacTavish tried to identify some of them but struggled to recognise any of them. Constanza gazed wide eyed at the exotic art around him with amazement. Bolan was looking longingly at the books on the bookcases. He leafed through a couple at random but didn’t find anything that captured his attention or interest greatly.

Presently a small, thin faced man in his 30s walked down the corridor from the back of the building. He paused to speak to the receptionist, who pointed out the group to him, and he scuttled over to them.

“Hello, I’m Thomas Kinnery, Mr Gavigan’s personal secretary. I understand you wish to speak to Mr Gavigan. May I enquire the nature of your request?”

Bolan made introductions before saying they understood that Jackson Elias had come to speak to Gavigan a few weeks earlier. He explained that they are currently following up on his movements. Kinnery, his face a constant beaming grin, nodded along as Bolan talked.

“I think we can find a space in Mr Gavigan’s diary. Please follow me.”

He led them down a corridor and to a small office with a waiting area. He asked them to wait there while he went into another office beyond. Coming back a few minutes later, he told them that Gavigan was in the middle of something but would see them shortly.

Kinnery sat behind a desk in the room and began to sort out papers and writing a letter. After about 10 minutes of waiting, a slim, well-dressed man came out of the main office and greeted them warmly.

Introducing himself as Edward Gavigan, he ushered them into his office and instructed Kinnery to hold his calls and not to disturb them.

Gavigan’s office was large but sparsely furnished. A simple desk at one end with minimal clutter on the top, a photo frame and some paper and pens neatly arranged on it. The walls had a pair of paintings hanging on them, showing different views of Egypt. One wall also had three small doors which looked like storage cupboards built into it. The most unusual feature was a small floor safe in one corner of the room near Gavigan’s desk. Each of them spotted the safe as it stood out due to the door being slightly open. The door raised up against the flat of the floor made it obvious, but Gavigan seemed to have not noticed.

Sitting down behind his desk, Gavigan indicated they should all take a seat in the luxurious high-backed chairs that faced him.

“Now, what can I help you with regarding Mr Elias?”

Bolan explained about Jackson’s death and how they had been looking into the Carlyle expedition since his murder. Gavigan seemed shocked at the news but went on to explain that he had only spoken to him once.

“He came to visit me late last year as he was looking into the Carlyle expedition. He wanted to know about the background of the Penhew Foundation and its relationship to the funding of the expedition. It was a short meeting and he had arranged to see me again, but he never made the appointment.”

When asked about the Penhew Foundation, Gavigan explained that Sir Aubrey Penhew had started the foundation. He was using it as a way of exploring further into the mysteries of Egypt. Penhew had a specific interest in a period of Egyptian history which wasn’t well known about so most of his personal research was into this time. When Roger Carlyle came to Sir Aubrey with information about this era, Sir Aubrey was eager to not only fund the expedition, but also join it.

He mentioned that most of the background information for the expedition had come from some ‘African woman’ that Carlyle had met. Rather scathingly he felt this woman seemed to have a hold over Carlyle.

Gavigan also talked about each of the different members of the group, but only in vague terms as he had only spoken to a few briefly. He touched on their roles in the dig and how they seemed to have moved on from the dig when Carlyle became ill. Gavigan concluded that Carlyle, being a rich American playboy, wasn’t as tough as the British members of the group so couldn’t stand the heat. He didn’t have the British spirit that Sir Aubrey would have had.

Throughout the meeting, Bolan could tell that Gavigan was hiding something and that he wasn’t telling the full truth. Gavigan seemed eager to push the conversation back towards Elias a few times and he was quick to skip other points.

They discussed further about the foundation’s involvement with the expedition. How some artefacts had been discovered as part of the dig but nothing of significance. Most of the items had gone to the Egyptian museum in Cairo, a few trinkets had been put on display in the British Museum. A small number were also at the foundation.

Offering to give them a tour of the display pieces, Gavigan stood up and headed for the door. MacTavish was interested in what the picture on the desk was so made a point of saying that the safe was open. He walked around the desk to where he could point to the open door. Gavigan, not expecting this, went over to shut it while MacTavish got a quick look at the picture. It was a large stately home with the name ‘Misr House’ in small letters in the foreground.

Gavigan thanked MacTavish and then led them on a tour around the building. He was quite thorough but to the point of dryness when explaining each of the items he stopped at. Even to the point of spending 10 minutes explaining the history and production technique of half a clay pot that had been found at a dig site.

After what felt like a very long hour, Gavigan led them back to the reception area. As they had shown so much interest, he suggested that if they wanted to come back to examine anything further, they should join the foundation.

MacTavish said he would love to join as he was an amateur archaeologist. He was directed to speak to the receptionist who would give him the paperwork to join.

As a sudden thought, MacTavish mentioned that there was a rumour that one of the expedition members had been spotted alive in Shanghai. At this suggestion Gavigan’s face cracked for a second.

“What do you mean? Who is it? That’s not possible.” he said in a shocked voice.

Dismissing it as a rumour, MacTavish waved off questions of how he had found out while promising to tell Gavigan if he heard anything further.

By this point, Gavigan had regained his cool and aloof air. He bid them farewell with a polite nod and then headed back towards his office.

Quickly filling in the paperwork for membership, MacTavish took the invoice and they left.

The British Library

They spent a few hours in the British Library looking into Misr house, finding that it was in Essex and was listed as Gavigan’s family home. They also planned to have a look around the Penhew Foundation building after hours if they could break in.

The Penhew Foundation

Heading back to the Foundation before it shut, they found a darkened area to loiter in. They kept watch for a few hours until it was closed and deserted for the night. After 6pm the building emptied of most of the staff and a cleaner went in along with a security guard. Gavigan wasn’t spotted leaving but they figured he was mixed into the bigger knot of staff as they left.

After plenty of time had passed and the cleaner was spotted leaving, they headed round the back and found the rear. A large loading area with a door and a small coal chute could be made out through the gloom and MacTavish went to check the chute. A padlock held it closed so he hunkered down next to it with his lockpick set. In the dark he struggled to open it and, in the end,, he only managed to jam the mechanism inside.

Constanza lifted his club and jammed the base of it under the padlock before pushing slowly. With a low groan, the metal twisted and popped off, dropping to the packed earth with a quiet plop.

Shining a torch down the chute, they could see a mound of coal below them, but the drop seemed wide enough to climb into. One at a time they slide down and found themselves in a small coal storeroom with a low wall holding the coal in place. Beyond the wall the room opened into a large boiler room filled with pipes of hot water and steam running throughout it. The low roar of a furnace filled the room and the soft glow of the boiler cast flickering shapes over the walls.

There was a door at the far end and near where they stood a narrow set of stairs ran upwards. Checking the door, they found it unlocked and there was a small the small room on the other side. It was packed with broken furniture covered in dust sheets and other assorted bric-a-brac. MacTavish realised that this room was too small and that the room they had entered only covered half of the floor space of the foundation. Searching around turned up nothing. The walls sounded solid and there was no sign of any hidden doorways.

Leaving this area, they took the stairs cautiously upwards and found themselves in a small staff room. A lit stove warmed a kettle on top. A couple of old chairs sat next to a table covered in newspapers. Bolan resisted the temptation to spike the water in the kettle with the drug he had found at Miles house.

Leaving the room brought them to the main corridor running the length of the foundation. Opposite the staff room was a solid metal door painted red. Checking it wasn’t unlocked, MacTavish tried to pick it, but again failed.

Leaving this door for fear of being caught in such an exposed place, they headed down the corridor into the building. Finding both doors that lead into Kinnery’s office and then into Gavigan’s office unlocked they slipping into Gavigan’s office. Carefully shutting the doors, they began to search.

MacTavish went to examine the floor safe while Constanza examined the desk and Bolan went to the closets.

Constanza found a few notes and bits of paperwork but nothing of note. One desk drawer wouldn’t open, and he realised it was locked.

With a little bit of patience, MacTavish finally managed to open the floor safe. It swung upwards to reveal a couple of large bundles of one pound notes but nothing else. MacTavish shut the safe and turned his attention to the locked desk drawer. With some luck, MacTavish was able to snap open the lock but the only item inside was a telegram mentioning a dig at Mycerinus.

Bolan meanwhile, had found a secret door in the back of one of the closets. Two of them had been filled with a drink’s cabinet, books and assorted items but the third was empty. Bolan spotted that the far wall had a panel that seemed out of place. Pushing it open gently he found it swung open silently into a large storeroom at the back of the building. One side was blocked off by wooden crates, but they could see through the gaps that they had entered the room with the locked red door. The side they had opened into lead to a battered and damaged sarcophagus. Kneeling by one side, Bolan cautiously peered in, but it was empty. He examined the top and noticed the face was free of the thin layer of dust that covered everything else. MacTavish and Constanza joined him just as he noticed the eyes could be recessed into the head.

As the eyes slipped into the head, there was a soft whir of a motor. The whole sarcophagus slid to one side, revealing a set of steep steps going into the basement. Shining torches into the darkness below only showed a few wooden boxes and a switch in the wall at the foot of the steps. The faint smell of burnt candles floated up from the room but there was no sound or movement from the dark. Cautiously, Bolan climbed down the steps. Fearing the worst, he braced himself before he flicked the switch but the only thing to happen was several electric lights came on.

As the others joined him, Bolan looked round. A desk stood at one end of the room with a small study area and some chairs arranged for meetings. Crates, boxes and bookcases lined the room, what little wall space was left had paintings filling the gaps.

MacTavish rummaged through the desk, turning up a .32 revolver with a box of bullets, some passports and more money. Under the desk he spotted a box filled with paperwork so started to dig through it, looking for anything useful.

Constanza examined the artwork on the walls. The paintings seemed to be strangely hideous creatures that drove a shiver down his spine. Leathery flying monstrosities, hulking beasts, prowling humanoid figures and burning figures who seemed to embrace the fire covered the paintings and seemed more hideous than anything he could imagine. A small statue in the middle of them was of a pharaoh-like figure but his face was a mass of squirming tentacles.

Bolan was drawn to the bookcases which was filled with a dozen or more books as well as scrolls and a small jar. He checked a few at random, his heart racing as he realised the value of just one of these books alone. Most seemed to be in either French, Latin or some other language, but he found two in English. The first was a series of seemingly insane ramblings about outlandish gods and theological questions that didn’t make much sense. The second book was called the ‘Book of Dzyan’ and was bound in a soft goatskin. Bolan pocketed the book and went to look at the paintings that Constanza was examining.

MacTavish was finding a few interesting things in the paperwork. There were various receipts for goods and services, including deliveries to Henson Manufacturing, Derby for wood and coal, iron ingots, copper wiring, and an expensive cast iron safe, a receipt from Ferris & Sons of London for the six-month hire of a truck, and a letter from a Mr. Puneet Chaudhary of Ropemakers Fields, Limehouse, relating to the warehousing and shipment of “sundry antiquities” to Shanghai onboard a ship called the Ivory Wind.

Underneath the pile of receipts, a business card was wedged into one of the box’s corners. Pulling it out, MacTavish could see it was addressed as “Empire Spices” in Soho.

He was distracted at one point by Bolan giving a shout of shock at the contents of the paintings. They proved to be too much of a reminder of the events at Miles house the previous night and he had turned away with a stifled cry.

Constanza meanwhile had moved on to examine a couple of the crates at one end of the room, all but two are open and empty. A tall, closed crate was stencilled “Ho Fang Import/Export, 15 Kaoyang Street, Shanghai, China,” in both English and Chinese. In smaller letters are the

words “Attention Honourable Ho Fang.” Prying the top off Constanza found a huge corroded brass statue of a bulbous thing wearing an Asian rice hat; a snake pit of tentacles seemed to be bursting forth from beneath the hat.

The second crate of interest was stencilled “Randolph Shipping Company, Port Darwin, Northern Territory, Dominion of Australia”, along with a curious symbol that seems to show a stylized deer’s head or winged creature. Again, Constanza removed the top of the crate and inside was a 16 inch (41 cm) high representation of a fat, dragon-like figure, whose evil-looking head is fringed by tentacles.

MacTavish brought out his camera and started to take photos of the two statues and other parts of the room.

They tidied up as best they could, setting things back to how they had found it and went back up to the storage room above. Carefully pushing the door open to Gavigan’s office they were shocked to see the surprised face of a young security guard looking back at them. There was a moment of quiet as both sides sized each other up and then the guard stuttered out a confused question.

“What are you all doing in Mr Gavigan’s closet?”

MacTavish slowly walked towards the man, pulling his wallet out. He presented the guard with a large handful of notes while reassuring him that they hadn’t been up to anything bad. They just got lost and he should forget about them.

The guard cautiously took the notes and watched them climb out of Gavigan’s window one by one into the night before stuffing the notes into his jacket and continuing his rounds.

Casting Cthulhu

Many eons ago (mid 2012), I sculpted a statue that I thought would be a bit of fun, would end up on my shelf and never be touched again. Cthulhu. Originally I wanted to make a Deep One statue but I couldn’t come up with a nice design I liked so ended up making the big chap based on the description from the Call of Cthulhu story.

After making it, I thought “How could I cast this up? Can’t be that hard, I’ve done some before at uni.” and so I went for a browse round my local craft shop. All I could find there was latex which is a good enough casting material so I bought a big bottle of the stuff and set to.

It took weeks.

Honestly, latex is one of the slowest ways to make a mould. Its also one of the smelliest. The sulpher released was making my eyes water.

Its a case of layer, upon layer brushed on but you have to wait until its dry before putting the next layer on and that can take hours. I was layering it up with thickener as well to get some of the thickness once the first few base layers had been put on.

And so, the first few Cthulhu (Cthulhii? What do you call a group of Cthulhu) arrived via the latex mould.

Cthulhu statues

It was very hard to get them out of the mould. Latex doesn’t stretch very much so it was tough demoulding them.

During the following year I made another Latex one and then started to try out other materials for making moulds. At some point I tried Dragon Skin from SmoothOn which is silicone that can be used for either mould or casting.

Latex, latex, dragon skin and dragon skin.

Apart from the toughness to stretch the latex moulds, they had started to corrode from the heat when you pour the resin in. The Dragon Skin is far stretchier and can take a bit more punishment.

The first Dragon Skin mould was made in 2013 and the second was made in 2015 and is finally starting to give up. Bits come away in the fine detail areas and it becomes harder to remove the casting so I knew it was time to make a new one. Four years is a pretty good run for something that gets used a lot.

Over a couple of hours, one Sunday, I made a new mould by layering up Dragon Skin over the casting. As it flows quite freely, its great for getting into all the nooks and crannies but it does mean it runs everywhere. It takes a few layers to get a good thickness and you hae to apply it as its nearly set. Another thing is to make sure there are no big air pockets in overhanging areas.

After 24 hours to fully cure the mould peeled off easily, ready for the first casting.

It does look odd inside out…

The Cthulhu statue is available in my Etsy shop in a different range of finishes such as bronze, copper and green.