|
 Somewhere outside of New York city. The night skies above you are clear, the rural road you are travelling down has no streetlights to block out the stars in the sky. The road is marred by the occasional pothole, but not the worst you have travelled on. The Driver had turned up at the appointed time outside your hotel, and had driven without saying a word to you. The man was smartly presented and clean shaven, but distant. Suddenly you turn a corner and see lights ahead, a floodlit area in the middle of nowhere.  You arrive at a private airfield, your chauffeur you gets out and opens the door for you. As you get out he motions for you to enter the hanger, then moves to park his car off at one side of it. A number of other vehicles are arriving at the same time, and soon a group of you have assembled in the hanger.  A twin engined passenger airplane dominates the hanger, but it is not what draws your eye. The thing that stands out the most is the corner of the hanger that would look more at place in a stately home than in a open metal building - there are a number of bookshelves filled end to end. Comfortable reading chairs and electric lamps are set upon a large rug. There is even a writing desk set up. Someone has transplanted a study into the middle of nowhere. The assembled group looks at each other with mild bewilderment. In each hand was an invitation with a short letter, but beyond the fact that Janet Winston-Rogers wished to speak to them and was offering a good sum of money for their time, and that she was sure the work would be of interest to them, they had no idea why they were here. Your knowledge of Mrs Winston-Rogers was slight, she was a wealthy heiress, she married another rich man who had been killed in a car accident last year. She is little known - though many of you will have heard of her father, Walter Winston. He had been a successful entrepreneur and world famous occultist up until about ten year ago, when he had just dropped off the map. He became a recluse and refused visitors until his recent death. All in all, you are sure of one thing, the promise of money is a real one, and she could not have picked a more mysterious setting. Okay, that looks like a good time for you to introduce your character, having decided to answer this summons to a night-time rendezvous. Please post your character sheets in the post as normal. Feel free to add in how you got to this point, and once everyone has posted up I’ll bring in Mrs Winston-Rodgers and we can get this story rolling. Do you want me to prompt you for point spends or leave it up for you to offer up ideas. Recruitment thread here
|
#
?
Aug 29, 2017 12:19
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 25, 2024 02:09 |
|
|
quote:Investigative skills: Mr Watkins, My employer Mrs. Janet Winston-Rogers has taken interest in some of your more esoteric articles, specifically the ones involving the occult, and would like you to attend a private meeting. She would like to discuss a job offer with you, she wishes to keep the details out of this letter in case it’s intercepted but rest assured it is very much something you would be interested it. There will be a car waiting for you at Grand Central 7pm this coming Saturday. If you choose not to show up things will continue without you but we assure you that you will be very interested in what she has to say. Reggie finishes reading the letter aloud to his wife and they discuss what this could mean. He’s written some esoteric articles about various cults and idols but those were mostly just trash articles to help pay bills. He didn’t put any real stock in that sort of thing. Sure the peoples of Innsmouth were off but that’s what happens in any backwards town. But the Winston-Rogers are a known family with deep pockets so maybe this job will give a good payout even if it’s a waste of his time. After talking it over with his wife they agree it’s not worth passing up and he packs his bag bringing his trusty camera, both long range and close range lenses, spare film, and a notebook and that sets out for the meeting point. He easily finds the man and ends up in an awkward car trip where every question is answered by either silence or “You’ll find out soon.” After an unknown amount of time (why didn’t he bring a watch?) they arrive at what looks like an air strip right as night begins to fall.
|
|
#
?
Aug 30, 2017 07:26
|
|
|
 Player: Kloaked00 Investigator Name: Dr. Peyton Westlake Drive: Thirst for Knowledge Occupation: Doctor Occupational Abilities: Accounting, Biology, First Aid, Forensics, Languages (Latin), Medicine, Pharmacy, Assess Honesty, Reassurance Occupation Benefits: Use Medicine or Reassurance to access to medical records and hospital wards. Can also use Reassurance to talk your way into any part of your home institution Description: Dr. Peyton Westlake, born June 12 1902, was expected to become a doctor, as his father was a doctor, and his grandfather was a doctor. Sent to the finest boarding schools from a young age, he learned a great deal of knowledge and was educated well, but always felt an interpersonal longing, for he never had felt the true comfort of family. While in residency he met a beautiful and caring nurse named Dawn who he quickly fell in love with and married. She nurtured his soul and made him feel complete. However, after only two short years, she fell ill and was diagnosed with MacGregor Syndrome, a wasting disease with no known cure. He spent their final months together caring for her and searching through research and literature, both medical and…..less so…., attempting to find a method to save his love, but was unsuccessful. Through his searching, he had heard of the cults of the Elder Gods, and rumors of their ways to cure disease, and possibly even conquer death. Heartbroken, as he continues to heal those in his care through the normal means, he still searches in the darker areas, hoping that if he may find answers, it may provide him solace for being unable to save his wife. code:code:Sources of Stability: Child: Jessica, Colleague/Best Friend: Dr. Douglas Houser
|
|
#
?
Aug 30, 2017 15:08
|
|
|
E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw Dressed in an old overcoat and hat, Tom stood by the front of the hotel waiting for the ride. He lit up his second cigarette while waiting. He didn't want to take this job, but he needed the money. Digs aren't cheap and people who need diggers was pretty minimal. There were rumors that that Germany was hiring diggers for work they had in the middle east, but that kind of employment felt unsavory. Way too much ideology tied up with their digs. Plenty of people without any scruples who'd work for them. Without dropping his strong stance against fake history, he had to take a chance. That's how he came to accept Ms. Winston-Rogers proposal. It wasn't even digging work. Something about investigating what happened with her father. Of course Tom knew the old man. In name and recognition only. He funded some unusual projects. At least that's what the rumors said. Not many people liked to talk about it or at least talk about it openly. When Tom encountered that kind of reluctance, he could guess why they hesitated to talk. They found something unorthodox, the same kind of subjects that he spent time researching. Unfortunately even being someone who researched the same kinds of things as the people involved with Mr. Winston's research didn't help him find out what they discovered. The car pulled up to the curb. He dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and got in the car. The driver didn't say anything, so neither did he until he reached for another cigarette. "You mind?" He asked. When the question went unanswered he lit up. He wondered if the driver was normally this quiet or if his employer told him to stay quiet. Tom decided not to inquire about the matter. He looked out the window and tried not to worry about the situation. He didn't like the secrecy surrounding this project. Something wasn't right about the situation and he hated going into situations where he wasn't fully informed. The car started to slow down and he then took notice of where they were heading. A landing strip? Unusual to say the least, he thought to himself. When the car came to a stop, he got out before the driver had a chance to open the door. He dropped the remains of the cigarette he was smoking and looked at the hangar. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw what was in the hangar. The plane was expected, but someone decided to keep a library of books there as well. The books got his curiosity piqued and he went over to check them out. E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw  Investigator Name: E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw Drive: Antiquarianism Occupation: Archaeologist Occupation Benefits: By using Archaeology or a suitable Interpersonal ability, you can get access to museum storage areas or be allowed to handle artifacts. (You will likely not get to carry them away with you legally, regardless.) If you have academic credentials (both an Archaeology rating of 2+ and a Credit Rating of 3+), you can get access to closed stacks at a university library. Credit Rating 4 Pillars of Sanity: Hypothetico-deductive reasoning can eventually explain every observation, Materialist, The basic goodness of human nature Sources of Stability: Professor Carlyle (Miskatonic Professor), Richard Hamilton (Fellow Digger for hire), Grace Hoffman (ex-girlfriend associate professor at Miskatonic) Investigative Skills (Occupational skills = *) pre:Academic Skills: *Anthropology 2 *Archaeology 4 *History 2 *Languages 4 *Library Use 2 Occult Studies 2 Interpersonal Skills: Assess Honesty 1 Bureaucracy 2 Credit Rating 4 *Oral History 2 Streetwise 1 Technical Skills: *Evidence Collection 4 General Skills *Athletics 10 Driving 2 Firearms 4 *First Aid 8 Fleeing 6 Health 10 Preparedness 10 Sanity 10 Scuffling 6 Stability 8 Stealth 1 Weapons 4 Many people say that Tom was born in the wrong time. Tom never took much interest in the modern world. Most of his childhood was spent reading about classical times and ancient civilizations. When he went to college at the University of Chicago, he majored in History and Anthropology. During his undergraduate years, he spent a year working as a digger in the Middle east. It was there where he came across certain discoveries and research that he never came across during his undergraduate learning. He learned that hidden behind conventional history was the real history of the world. It seemed many researchers knew about the real history of the world, but refused to let the knowledge of it to escape. They rationalized that the world wasn't ready to know about these strange discoveries. Having found out about this real history, he found himself fascinated by it. This was what he wanted to devote his life to understanding. After finishing his undergraduate studies, he found that the only one university would give him the opportunity to further his knowledge of the real history of the world. The university was Miskatonic University. While earning his P.h.D. he had the opportunity to travel the world exploring different ancient dig sites. His dissertation "Prehistoric eastern Melanesian Sea-god cults of the Phoenix Islands" concerned the remains of a cult in the Phoenix islands that worshipped an anthropomorphic sea monster that they both dreaded and worshipped. Although his research concerned unusual archaeology findings, he parlayed his P.h.D. into work. He joined various expeditions around the world as a digger. At least that was his title, often times his employers found that he had a lot of experience in dealing with foreign cultures. Tom's hunt for more work brought him to the attention of Janet Winston-Rogers.
|
|
#
?
Aug 30, 2017 20:10
|
|
|
Father Aleksandr Przybyszewski Father Alex was not one much for formalities. Usually. Today he was wearing his best cassock, one of two"formal" cassocks that traveled with him. He'd been staying at the Church of Saint Peter, a dinky little church, full mostly of older parishioners, and had arranged for the driver to pick him up a few blocks away from the church. A paranoid habit perhaps, but he wasn't comfortable with anyone knowing where he was staying. Much less anyone who had summoned him under such... interesting circumstances. As he waited, he uttered a silent prayer that this might give him some of the answers he'd been seeking all these years. In some ways it felt like all the winding ways he'd followed had turned back on each other, landing him right where he started. The black car pulled up, and the priest embarked, a couple attempts at polite conversation later, he rode in contemplative silence, centering himself, meditating and very carefully avoiding fidgeting with the silver cross hidden in his cassock. Father Alex was not good at waiting. He was, in many ways, a man of action, even when that action was research, or conversation, or giving mass, just sitting in a car in silence put him on edge. He wished he'd brought a book, other than the rather well read pocket bible. So it was that when the car came to a halt, and he was ushered out, he breathed an almost audible sigh of relief. He was not the first one here. He scanned the faces of the other men, and then, with an amicable smile, ambled over. "Quite a place for a meeting, eh?" he asked, cheerfully, his accent thick but still understandable. [hr] Father Aleksandr Przybyszewski  Drive: Sudden Shock quote:Investigative Skills Pilars of Sanity [*]Faith In God [*]Human dignity and value Sources of stability: His superior, Bishop Ezikiel Mendoza. Backstory: Father Przybyszwski (or Father Alex, as he insists most people call him), was born in the abnormally warm winter of 1899, in Austria-Hungary, specifically the region that would later form part of the Kingdom of Poland. His parents are what could be refereed to as dirt farmers, poor, unlanded, barely making it by. Aleksander hated his life, the youngest among his seven brothers, and knew from an early age that he'd rather die than remain a farmer. When he turned 14, he ran away from home, and made his way to Kraków, just in time to get caught up by the war. Not being allowed to enlist, he worked odd jobs, until in 1915 when he was finally old enough to enlist in the Polish Legion. There, he discovered two things. God, and the Devil. God he discovered in a trench, shortly after being kicked by a horse. Bleeding and agonizing with what he'd later learn were three broken ribs, he prayed for death. It was then he had some kind of spiritual revelation, one that filled him with a newfound purpose and certainty in life. It was this drive that would lead him to join the seminary after the war ended. The Devil he met deep below the earth. Driven into a set of natural caves by constant heavy shelling, Alex and a half dozen survivors got irredemably lost... and met something deep beyond their ken. Etched ancient glyphs, carved of stone, in shapes impossible to describe. A voice that uttered half forgotten words... it drove them mad, one by one. All but Alex. He watched them go, one by one, gibbering, screaming, howling, into the dark. To lie prostrate before the stones, and offer their flesh. Of the twelve men who entered, only Alex returned, and when the war ended, and he looked for the caves again, so he could ensure they were destroyed, the passages were gone, as if they had never existed. But Alex didn't forget those men. Their names, their deaths, more horrid than anything he could have imagined. The fact that there is evil in the world. The desire, the need to serve God, to fight this Evil, is what drove him to study like he'd never studied before. In many ways Alex was a prodigy. When he joined seminary, he could barely read, when he finished, five years later, he had mastered not just German, but also Latin, Greek and Aramic. He was quickly induced into the Benedictine order of the Holy Path, an order dedicated to research, and scholarship. Alex retained his obsession with the strange symbols he saw that day, traveling far and wide to search out their mysterious origin, so that he may battle the Devil in the service of God.
|
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 01:23
|
|
|
John Larkin Larkin finishes pecking out the last word on his typewriter and then tears it out of the machine and puts the copy in his outbox. Thank God that article was written. It was a piece of crap. One of the best reporters in the city and he's covering a drat flowershow. Hell, why not just put him on the woman's desk. He could give tips on how to glaze a ham or what Mrs. Astor was wearing. And to think he used to be a force in this city. Disgusted, he lights a cigarette and checks his mail. Usual stuff, and what's this? Something from Mrs. Winston-Rogers? He knew the name, he thinks. Society woman, if he remembers, more money than sense. Her father had just died, he knew. Got a big writeup. The old man had gone mad in his old age; cut off his relationships and was almost never seen in public. And now this. Something about a story that had never been told. She needed people to investigate something, but she didn't go into detail. Well, that peaked his interest. He finishes his cigarette and thinks. A late night meeting? Well, that's interesting. Maybe there is something here. "Hold my calls!", he tells the secretary. "I'm going out. Tell Eddie I'll be back when I get back."  John Larkin Drive: Curiosity Occupation: Journalist Occupation Benefits: By using Reassurance, you have access to newspaper morgues. At your own paper, you do the same to get the records clerks to fetch relevant articles. Similarly, fellow journalists may confide “off the record” rumors and stories to you, unless you’re a direct competitor. Credit Rating: 3 Pillars of Sanity: Coming Sources of Stability: Coming Investigative Skills Languages: 4 Library Use: 1 x Asses Honesty: 2 Cop Talk: 2 Credit Rating: 3 Oral History: 2 Reassurance: 2 Streetwise 2 Evidence Collection: 2 Forensics: 1 Interrogation: 1 Locksmith: 1 Photography 2 General Abilities Conceal: 5 Disguise: 8 Driving: 4 Fleeing: 5 Health: 10 Preparedness: 4 Sanity: 10 Scuffling:6 Sense Trouble: 6 Shadowing: 8 Stability: 10 Epicurius fucked around with this message at 02:21 on Oct 3, 2017 |
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 02:23
|
|
|
Detective Morgan Petris, Boston PD "Dear Morgan..." I find myself rereading the letter aloud on the plane (a goddamn plane--this lady is loaded to the nines!). It's been a while since anybody's written a letter to "Morgan", since most of my messages of late have been on Boston PD letterhead and addressed to "Detective Petris". "...Words cannot express my sorrow at the fate of your brother Francis..." I sigh and close my eyes for a second over that word. Talk about him like he's dead, why don't you, and like your father didn't have anything to do with it. I find myself skipping down to the end as the plane skids to a stop. "...If you wish to avenge him, come to the W--- A--- Hotel and inquire at the front desk about my chauffeur C---. The rest will be clear in due time. Yours till the world ends (my father's closing, and not hyperbole). Janet Winston-Rogers." The moment I'm out of the plane I reach into my jacket for the cigarette case. Pilot said smoking in the plane would ruin the upholstery, the rear end. I light one up and blow a smoke ring into the cool night air. Alright, miss, show me what you've got... quote:Occupation: Police Detective
|
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 04:51
|
|
|
The Airfield. Outside, lights shine into the hanger for a few seconds as another car pulls up. This one is a high class limousine, sleek and black. The chauffeur who gets out of this one is dressed like the others, but does not move like one. The man is hulking and lacks the refinement that your drivers had. he opens the door, and a woman in her forties steps out, dressed impeccably in the latest fashions. She nods to her driver, who follows close behind her. you all get the sense that his main role is bodyguard rather than servant. Mrs Walter-Rogers sits on of the comfortable chairs and the driver stands behind her, arms behind his back. she takes a cigarette off the desk next to the chair and light it. she then gives you all her attention. "Gentlemen, Thank you for joining me. I apologies for the mysterious circumstance around this meeting, but as you know, I am a private person, and I would like this to be as private a venture as possible." She beings in a calm but authoritative voice, this is a woman who is used to getting what she wants from people. "I want to to do something for me. If you did not know, my father, Winston Walters, was a occultist for many years, then became withdrawn from society. I want you to discover what caused that withdrawal." "My father was a driven man. He’d made his own fortune in the pharmaceuticals business after the War and then spent a few years traveling the world, studying folklore. That led to an interest in… the occult. He was bent on battling something, but he wouldn’t tell us what it was. My mother and I watched him get ever more distant, travel ever more often, until he spent almost all of 1924 away from home. On the trail of some ‘bad people,’ as he called them." “When my father wasn’t traveling, he was having meetings — secret meetings — with people he wasn’t in business with. Other dabblers in the occult, I think. My mother didn’t like them. This was when she started drinking.” “Something happened in August of 1924. Something that sent him back to us rattled and unraveling. He didn’t have any more secret meetings after that. He stopped traveling. But he wasn’t well. He saw a psychiatrist for a few years. He burned his books. He hardly ate. He jumped at shadows, insisted he was being watched. He was… never the same. He forbade us from asking about his travels and said more than once that ‘nothing mattered anymore.’ When mother died, in ‘32, he hardly grieved. After that, he became only more paranoid and frustrated, until he finally passed away, earlier this year, as a shadow of himself.” “That was when I found the letters — letters from a man named Douglas Henslowe, who had apparently worked with my father up until August of ‘24. I think he must have been one of the people father met with at the house, time and again. He wrote a few times, always asking my father to write down what had happened, what he had seen. My father never did. He never answered those letters. But he kept them, and it looks to me like he studied them carefully, though he never, I guess, dared to write back.” “This Douglas Henslowe wrote another letter, which came earlier this year, just before my father died. All I have to go on are the postmarks, sent from two addresses in Savannah, Georgia. I think this man must know what happened to my father in 1924. And I want to know what my father was mixed up in and… whether I should be apologizing for him or defending him. Whether he left work unfinished. Whether I’m in any danger.” “I’ll gladly lend you the use of my plane and pilot, Mr. Kearns, for the duration of your investigation, provided you do not leave the country for now. Time is a factor. Money is less so.” "Gentlemen, will you do this for me?" From the plane, a man you assume is Mr Kearns steps out and down the ladder. There is your page of plot exposition, feel free to ask questions of her or the pilot. Grey Hunter fucked around with this message at 08:25 on Aug 31, 2017 |
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 08:21
|
|
|
"I don't follow why this takes a group this big. Isn't this more along the lines of a single PI?"
|
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 15:55
|
|
|
E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw He took a drag off of his cigarette. Taking it out of his mouth, he let the ash fall to the ground. "I don't think lady would bring all of us here and I assume pay us all for something that a good detective could do on their own. Wouldn't take much to get information out of this Henslowe fellow. If this situation only involved talking to that guy, she wouldn't need us. There's more to this. Henslowe is just the beginning. Also looking at the people she gathered up, I'm thinking she needed more than a P.I. or two." He put his cigarette back in his mouth.
|
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 20:08
|
|
|
Dr. Peyton Westlake "Ms. Walter Rogers, I must agree with these other fellows that I am perplexed. Have you not tried to contact Mr. Henslowe yourself? "
|
|
#
?
Aug 31, 2017 21:31
|
|
|
Det. Morgan Petris "Lemme take a wild-rear end guess," I say between puffs on my cigarette. "She's tried to talk to Mr. Henslowe but for some reason he's not responding. No letters, no telegrams, no phone calls, nada. So either he's avoiding you or there's some reason he can't talk. And you want us to inquire after him about why. And you've called multiple people out because you expect foul play." I take another drag. "How's my hunch?"
|
|
#
?
Sep 1, 2017 03:11
|
|
|
Mrs Walter Rogers "I have not tried to contact Mr Hanslow myself because He provided no return address. He seems to be as secretive as my father. The letters I found are the only way I even know he exists. And in some ways, I'm surprised my father never burned them. I'm sure from their content that he never replied - we could never get him to speak of what happened in '24, not matter how much we plead with him. Anyway, I'm no an occultist, and I'm not sure I would be able to understand much of what he could tell." She pauses. "As for why I have hired so many of you, consider it a private indulgence. I am the heir to two fortunes, and my curiosity means I want as complete and answer as can be. No one man can be an expert in everything, but with many heads, I'm sure you can get to the bottom of this."
|
|
#
?
Sep 1, 2017 10:16
|
|
|
Dr. Peyton Westlake "I'm sure your father has collected a great deal of information over the lifespan of his work, but do you happen to have a box or two of his research relating to the event in question that we might examine during the flight?"
|
|
#
?
Sep 1, 2017 12:21
|
|
|
Father Aleksandr Przybyszewski The priest took a deep breath to steady himself. None of this had been exactly unexpected, but he couldn't avoid the feeling that he was standing on the edge of some yawning chasm ready to devour him. Still, his mind raced at the possibilities before him. The chance for answers, finally... "Could we... ah, examine this correspondence?" they were going to have to start somewhere, and those letters were about all they had, short a name. Internalizing the comment from one of the other men "Do you expect violence?" The question is asked in a calm, even voice, as one might inquire about the weather, but on its reply ride answers to what this gathering is truly about.
|
|
#
?
Sep 1, 2017 12:40
|
|
|
Mrs Winson-Rogers She motions to their surroundings. "The remains of his work is around us. I'm, afraid he destroyed or sold a lot of it, I assume it brought bad memories. but all that is left is here." She opened her purse and brought out a bundle of envelopes. "I''ve also brought the letters from Mr Hanslow. I thought they would be of interest to you." She places them on the desk next to her.
|
|
#
?
Sep 1, 2017 12:44
|
|
|
Reggie picks up one of the letters and begins to skim the oldest one. "I hate to cut to the chase but what kind of pay are we talking about? And if this makes for good news do I have permission to write about it?"
|
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 06:37
|
|
|
Mrs Winston-Rogers "Pay will be a base of $5,000 each, with all reasonable expenses paid. I am willing to increase this depending on time taken and results produced. As for writing, you absolutely do not have permission to write about this. Whatever you find will be for my eyes only. My father and I are private people, and any attempt to publisher this will be dealt with severely. if you take this job, you will be expected to sign a non disclosure agreement." looking at the oldest letter, the sending address is 513 West Henry Street, Savannah, Georgia. its dated 1925. It is a plea for Walter Winston to write back with an account of the events of August 1924. It contains no details, and ends with. “Please write back with your account of what happened. My doctors do not believe me.” The letter is covered in pencil marks, circling letters, linking seemingly random words, writing numbers in the margins. Welp, I screwed up the "no return address" part. I guess she just doesn't want to go on a goose chase!
|
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 07:15
|
|
|
Det. Morgan Petris "Huh...dammit, hate it when I'm wrong," I chuckle as the lady flat out shuts me down. I turn to one of the others--obviously a journalist, going by his reaction, and look over the letter. "Not sure what kind of story you'd get out of a cold...hey, there's a return address right here!" What kind of fool is she taking us for?! "You don't look like the type to miss this kind of thing, missy..." Maybe this can be flipped to a clue with a bit of Interrogation or Assess Honesty? Davin Valkri fucked around with this message at 08:43 on Sep 2, 2017 |
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 07:44
|
|
|
E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw He took the cigarette and crushed it in an ashtray. "I'm in Miss. Can't turn down a paycheck like that." Tom walked over to the shelves. "What did he tell you about his research? I can pore over the documents here, but I'm interested in knowing what he told you. I know you mentioned that he didn't want to talk about anything that happened after 1924, but what about before then? When he was studying folklore, did he focus on any region of the world or type of folklore?" Using Oral History on her to see what she remembers of her father's studies.
|
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 08:51
|
|
|
Mrs Winston Rogers. She seems taken aback at Morgan's tone, but seems to settle down after a few seconds. "Okay, I'll admit, this scares me a bit - I’ll admit, I once thought my father’s house was haunted. Shadows seemed to bend and warp, and odd stains appeared from nowhere. I thought I… saw things. Things in the walls. But of course it was all the nervous energy of a frightened girl. At any rate, I haven’t seen any such things since my father died. I must have willed myself not to see the address so that I had an excuse not to follow up on this myself.” To Tom she replies. "My father was always secretive before 1924, and I was a child for most of that, all he told me was that he was on the trail of some 'bad men' and that he needed to stop them. That was in '24, and the most he ever spoke to us about it. His study was always kept locked, and he spent a lot of time away from home traveling, so we never got much of an idea of what he was working on - my mother may have known more, but she said nothing before her death." She stands. "Honestly gentlemen, I'm not sure there is much more I can tell you. If I knew more I would hardly need a large group of investigators, would I. It is you job to find answers for me. I will assist in any way I can, but this must remain quiet and off the books. I fear for the family name and the memory of my father, but I need to know what happened to him. She begins to walk towards the car. "As for violence, I don't know. but if my father wanted to stop some bad men, then there is a chance of it." Grey Hunter fucked around with this message at 10:37 on Sep 2, 2017 |
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 10:32
|
|
|
Dr. Peyton Westlake Peyton takes the letters. "Well, gentleman, it seems we are off to Georgia to explore this mystery. Detective Petris, perhaps you would be willing to take a look at the notations in the margins and see if you're able to make any sense of them?" I'll use Evidence Collection to look for anything in the letters, but a cryptography check would probably be a good idea " And let's hope there's a decent drink service on this flight." Kloaked00 fucked around with this message at 13:39 on Sep 2, 2017 |
|
#
?
Sep 2, 2017 13:37
|
|
|
Det. Morgan Petris "Sun, storms, and...what else is in Georgia?" What can I say, I'm Bostonian by blood. "Alright, let's have a look at the margins here..." I'll do that Crypto check.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 01:28
|
|
|
"What's the point in hiring a journalist if I can't write? It's a waste of my talents. Reggie thinks to himself. "For money like that I can certainly take this job. It's a shame I won't be able to write about the job itself. Maybe I'll find some unrelated things to keep my editor off my back." I want to take a look at the library. A zero point spend for library use at first and depending on the result i might spend a point
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 01:50
|
|
|
John Larkin "We understand the need for discretion, ma'am, and we'd not do anything to harm the reputation of your family. We'll track down this Hanslow fellow and find out what he knows." He then watches her as she walks to her car.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 02:46
|
|
|
Father Alex "Georgia, eh" the priest seems almost to be speaking to himself, "We can get this done on the plane, yes yes?" he asks cheerfuly, trying to shepherd his new compatriots towards the plane. No point sitting around when there's an address to check out.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 03:01
|
|
|
The hanger. "Good luck gentlemen. Find Mr Henslowe. He is the only person who remembers what happened that day. He is our best hope of finding the truth." Mrs Walter Rogers says before she returns to her limo. Her bodyguard/driver follows on a short leash. They are left in the hanger. The man who came from the plane comes up to you. "Welcome. I'm Frank. I'll be your pilot for this job, for what its worth. We can't take off until morning, but there are some cots made up in the plane. I'll be in there getting some sleep if you don't need me. Just let me know where we are heading and I'll get us there." He seems friendly enough, if a little put out. Reggie spends some time working on the books, he can't get much of a feel for Walter Winston's theory. These are wide ranging works, but he gets the feeling that all of the interesting stuff has long been removed from this library. Everything here is entry level works on American mysticism and folk lore., and not what you would expect an accomplished occultist to prize. Reading the letters in order gleans the following information. quote:1. January 11th, 1925 (513 West Henry Street): “Please write back with your account of what happened. My doctors do not believe me. Using the library, Peyton was able to find the two addresses, the first is inside the city limits, the second outside them. The cryptography would be a one point spend. do you want to make that.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 07:10
|
|
|
Det. Morgan Petris Cryptography 1-1/1 I feel my eyes narrow at the 4th letter. They stay narrowed all the way through. Why does it feel like two completely different people wrote these letters? And do the marginal marks have anything else to add? Yeah, I'll make that spend.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 07:31
|
|
|
Hours pass as Morgan pours over the letters. Only the first few have pencil marks on them, but after a while he comes to the conclusion that Walter Winston was clutching at straws - the letters do seem to have disparate tones, but there is no embedded code here - but the thought that Walter Winston thought there might speaks volumes - he spent a lot longer than you working on the letters, and seems to have given up. You've pretty much covered everything here. Do you want to move on to Savanna, Georgia?
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 08:01
|
|
|
"What do those addresses lead to? I assume at least one is an asylum. Did he get transferred at some point? But then how did he get the chance to write a book and hide it? There's enough of us once we hit ground we should split up and see what we find. Also did she happen so say who we Bill the hotel to?" I'm okay with moving forward
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 08:52
|
|
|
"Mrs W put some papers on the table that should be your line of credit." Frank replies. "I have my own, as I've been with the family a long time now.
|
|
#
?
Sep 3, 2017 12:43
|
|
|
E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw "There has to be something in his papers or books to give us an idea about what we're going to encounter." Tom goes and looks at the books on the shelves. "I like having some idea about what I'm getting into before I'm waist deep in it." Tom goes over the books looking to see if he can find a theme about them. When he sees that they are too general to gather information about what happened to Winston on that day. He then turns his attention to the letters. After looking over the letters, he says, "I assume from the sound of it, this group is anxious to pursue Mr. Henslowe. That's fine, but we should make sure that we're not neglecting any information that can be gleaned from this collection of letters and books." Tom then glaces around to see if he can find a local phone book. Using Library use and Occult studies. Also before the group flies down to Georgia, I'd like to make sure we aren't neglecting any clues in the library. Also looking for a local phone book, to look up the addresses, as well as if there are any psychiatrists in private practice in the area.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2017 04:31
|
|
|
The locations of the letters changed and then went back over the years. I'm wondering if one location is an asylum the other private residence and then back to the asylum for his final years. Library Use or Gather Evidence could check the addresses against phone books and if they're both asylums look up details for each to see what the difference is whether it be a minimum/maximum thing or a Doctor switching around. But since this is a private library I doubt there's anything on file that would be useful. If there's nothing I can do I'll look at the details on the credit papers. Is it per person or for the party? If it's per person can I opt to stay at dive motels in exchange for more leeway if it comes to buying supplies?
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2017 06:36
|
|
|
The credit notes are very generous - basically as long as you can justify the costs, you will be able to get the money! The benefits for working for an insanely rich client. A word of warning though, abusing this will come back on you - you can stay in good hotels, but if you start staying at the most expensive places, eating at the best restaurants and buying fleets of cars, then the notes can be rescinded at will. As for the phone books. unsurprisingly, an airfield in New York lacks the Savannah Georgia phone book. You have tapped the library and this scene for clues.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2017 08:01
|
|
|
Dr. Peyton Westlake "It seems we should be on our way then. Anyone for a game of whist while we travel?"
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2017 15:14
|
|
|
E. Thomas "Tom" Shaw "On second thought, there's probably nothing here for us to look into at the moment. At least we have two addresses in Georgia to look into when we get there." I thought the addresses were for locations locally. My mistake. I'm good to go.
|
|
#
?
Sep 4, 2017 19:53
|
|
|
Savannah, Georgia. The flight south is uneventful. Most of the time is spent chatting or sleeping. The investigators get to know each other a bit better, while Frank is happy to chat about himself and current events, but is quiet when it comes to his employer - all he tells you is that he is a loyal employee and have worked for the Winston family for decades.  The plane finally puts down at Hunter’s Field, outside of Savannah. The airfield has seen better days, and the tarmac of the runway is cracked and weed infested. The air is hot and humid, and as you came in you saw the city and the swamps to the south. Frank has telegraphed ahead, and a hire car is waiting for you. You drive into the city where he has also arranged a hotel for you. The roads in are poorly maintained, with branches covered in spanish moss reaching into the road. The sky is overcast and the air smells wet. There is not even the comfort of a breeze. You are all sweating. Things get no better once you hit the city. Savannah has suffered through the Great Depression, and it shows. The sidewalks are cracked and you can sea the earth beneath where they have crumbled. The smell of the harbor comes to you through the humid air, so thick with people’s sweat that it feels like you could wring the sky itself out and make it rain. Red-brick antebellum buildings hide behind a veil of ivy and moss, their wrought iron fixtures jutting out like ragged swords. Here and there, broken windows betray buildings that are empty inside. As you pull up in front of the Hotel, you notice a library across the street, and agree to meet up there later. As you enter the Hotel, the Bellboy comes towards you with an almost predatory movement. You are quickly helped to your rooms - much enthusiasm is shown. The rooms themselves are clean and tidy, a upper range hotel. All of your rooms are next to each other three on each side of the corridor. Once you have attempted to freshen up, you meet again at the library. You easily find a reading area where you can talk quietly. Tom looks through the local files and quickly finds the two addresses 513 West Henry Street is the local asylum, as you suspected, The Joy Grove mental institution has apparently been here for forty years. 23 Old Hope Road is the Henslowe family mansion and grounds, located some 13 miles Southeast of the city. I’ve fast forwarded through the basic research I know you want to do = I hope you don’t mind. I can now offer you a 1 point library use spend for each of the addresses. As you have seen, they may or may not be useful.
|
|
#
?
Sep 5, 2017 09:23
|
|
|
Dr. Peyton Westlake "Well our expectations appear to be confirmed, the man was institutionalized for some time. Let's see what else we can find out about the man, his home, and this asylum" Using Library Use to look for relevant newspaper stories about Henslowe / his family / the mansion, and Joy Grove. Especially any written around the same time as the letters
|
|
#
?
Sep 5, 2017 13:16
|
|
|
The Libary There is little on the Henslowes in the papers, 1924 seems to have been a normal year - you infer that whatever happened either didn't happen here or was covered up and never made the papers. Kloaked00 posted:Using Library Use to look for relevant newspaper stories about Henslowe / his family / the mansion, and Joy Grove. Especially any written around the same time as the letters Anything else comes under the 1 point spend I mentioned.
|
|
#
?
Sep 5, 2017 14:16
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 25, 2024 02:09 |
|
|
Det. Morgan Petris Cryptography 0/1 Okay, who spends that much time looking for a code that isn't there? Must be a habit of Mr. Henslowe's, to use coded messages. We'll have to ask about that when we land in Savannah. --------------- Ye gads, it's too hot here! Why is everything hot? Why did I wear a dinner jacket on the plane?! The library is cooler, but not by a whole lot. I'm fanning myself with one of the tabloid periodicals while we talk. "You know, this might just be my job talking, but if this thing is as big as Mr. Henslowe's been talking, I'll bet he didn't walk out with his good reputation intact. Maybe he's got a criminal record I--er, we--can look up." That's an offer to check out the police station and use Cop Talk to see if Mr. Henslowe's been on the books, and for what.
|
|
#
?
Sep 5, 2017 20:45
|
|