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Eldritch Nightmare - IC

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Harkback Union
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Eldritch Nightmare - IC

Postby Harkback Union » Thu Jan 22, 2015 12:33 pm

OOC

Earth - 1926

Image


Over 2 billion souls live their lives in peace here. Little do they know about dreadful era the future holds...
...but they will soon find out in time.


Mysteries:

The Coldwell Case
Last edited by Harkback Union on Thu Jan 22, 2015 12:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.
SPACEKRIEG!
- Coming Soon to a planet near you! -

FEBRUARY 2018
- PLANETFALL -

APRIL 2018
- DR STRANGELOVE -

MAY 2018
- EXUDUS -

CANCELLED
POSTPONED

JUNE 2018
- THOUGHTCRIME -

AUGUST 2018
- EXUDUS -

SEPTEMBER 2018
- COLLEGE GREYMORE -

NOVEMBER 2018
- SPACEKRIEG

[url=viewtopic.php?f=31&t=334053]RIP Cornelius Deheart[/url]

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Kirt
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Postby Kirt » Thu Jan 22, 2015 12:51 pm

The night was still and wet. It had been threatening to rain all day. It was miserable.
Roy hugged the side of the buildings as he worked his way to Shakey’s Pub, attempting to get some cover from the drizzle that had been blanketing him all day.

The day had been mostly shit since it started. He had woken up wet and cold before the sun was even up, but that wasn’t anything new. Roy had been sleeping in the woods outside of Coldwell for a little over a month. He had a nice setup going on out there he thought. There was a lean-to he had made from an old canvas tarp, a few pots and pans, and even a few magazines that he had rescued from the trash behind the barbershop.

He had begun the day by meandering down to the church to see if he could possibly find a free meal or possibly a place to take refuge from the bone cracking dampness. But the church was apparently closed for renovations until the following week.

The rest of the day was mostly spent pan handling around Main Street. Since the weather was poor not many people were out and about. The best he could come up with for an entire day of this nonsense was 15 cents. Not bad, at least it would help him to occupy the night.

As he rounded the corner he could see the sign that hung on the outside of Shakey’s. Standing beside the entrance smoking one of his crappy smelling cigarillos was that bastard Frank Hadfield. If Roy had a dime for every time he’d almost kicked the shit out of that smart ass he’d have eighty cents.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Roy Waits, king of the gutter and champion of the sport of drink. You look a little rough there Roy, have a tough day living off the hard working peoples of our fair town?”
Usually Roy would have stuck around to combat this verbal assault, but he was cold, tired and thirsty. He didn’t even bother to look at Frank as he passed him to enter the pub.

The moment he had opened the door the warm smoky air almost blew him back outside. The warmth made him realize just how wet he actually was.

As Roy looked around he removed his coats to hang them from the hooks by the doorway. There were not many people in the place, but there really never was. It was a small dimly lit dingy place. But that’s why Roy had always come here. All the lights had an orange and brown glass shade that gave off a nice warm glow to the mostly wooden and brass interior. It had always been calming to him. It was hard to say how long the bar had been there. Even harder to say how long the actual building had been there. Roy had always thought that the building seemed to hold a silent wisdom. As if the walls held secrets from which only the stones of this place could whisper, in their own mysterious language of solitary observation.

He walked over to the bar and took his seat on the end at the far corner. Digging through his pockets he produced the assorted change and bills that constituted his life savings. Loose change was rolling everywhere; his hands were beginning to shake too much to handle the rolling currency that spilled onto the bar.
Nick was working the bar tonight, he walked over to Roy with his classic halfcocked smile. He was a cocky little bastard but Roy thought that if anyone had any right to be it was this guy. Good looking, smashing personality and had some of the funniest stories you’ve ever heard, given you’d had the right amount of booze in yah.
“Hello Roy, punchin’ out for the day.”
“Something like that.”
“You want the usual?’
Roy put his index finger to his nose then pointed it at Nick with a quick wink. The barkeep poured a bourbon and water after filling a small bowl of roasted peanuts. He then sat them down in front of Roy. Roy started to push some of his collection of bills and change toward Nick. Nick smiled and shook his head while he slid the money off the edge of the bar and into his hand.

As Nick walked back to the register Roy grabbed the short glass of bourbon and pulled it toward him. He could feel the condensation begin to soak into the dirt on his hands. It felt as though he had a thin layer of slime between him and the glass. He looked into the glass. This is what it was all about. This is what it had been all about for a long time. Waiting for nothing, suppressing everything. As he raised the glass to his lips he paused. Then he drank.
Words Are Wise Men’s Counters… But They Are The Money Of Fools

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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Thu Jan 22, 2015 1:58 pm

Raindrops were spattering on grubby little Coldwell. Swollen, slate-colored clouds blanketed the sky which muttered ominous portents over the little seaside settlement. The town was a lonely and quiet. It had always been like this. For most of its history, Coldwell kept itself isolated while maintaining a mostly self-sufficient economy, with the exception of the large paper milling business once owned by the Brunswicks -the town most prominent family.

Yes, the town had always kept itself free of outsiders...until recently it seemed. Displaced from recent chaos around the country, many Irishmen made their way to the countryside and therefore to Coldwell. Most were only simple folks who kept to themselves and so life remained much the same. However, around one year back, some big shot professor suddenly found his way into the town... He asked many questions, dug up old records, poked around where he shouldn't have...Then in a strange twist of fate, one week ago the professor wandered into the wilderness and was never seen again.

A sullen belch emanated from the clouds, and the rain started coming down harder -- fat, cold drops smacking loudly against the tiled roofs. Under one such roof, Roy Waits was about to notice the newspaper someone had left on his table. It was the morning paper from the Blackrock Herald. Coldwell, apparently, was not large enough to warrant its own newspaper and so they had to get news from the neighboring town of Blackrock.

It read:

RENOWNED ARCHEOLOGIST MISSING

Local police are combing the wilderness surrounding the coastal town of Coldwell for 50-year-old Neil Costigan who disappeared in the area just last week.

Professor Neil Costigan is a Belfast-born professor of Archeology and History currently working under the sponsor of Yale University. Costigan recently became a popular name among international academia after the publication of his highly controversial report detailing the discovery of a mysterious ruin inside the Mullinahone Cave Formation, near the settlement of Coldwell. The report insisted that the site was a "gate to hell", a claim disputed by local scholars and officials.

Before going missing, Costigan had been living in Coldwell for almost a year to better aid his research, leaving behind his wife and two children in Belfast. He was last seen on the morning of Octorber 17th and was believed to be heading towards Mullinahone before vanishing completely into the wilderness. A fit and experienced adventurer; it is unclear what has happened to Costigan.

"In these woods, a mile is all it takes before you get totally turned around and do not know which way to go" said Calum McDonnell, the town’s deputy. "The country here is still primitive. We have a lesion of forest and mountain, most of it heavy second-growth and old-growth. Even locals can’t help but go missing sometimes."

It is true. Coldwell is listed as one of the most likely places in Northern Ireland to go missing, owing to the untouched beauty of the wilderness plus enthusiastic hikers, backpackers and the occasional professors, says McDonnell. A staggering 189 men and 51 women officially remain listed as missing since 1899 by the Coldwell Police Department.

People disappear for a lot of reasons, says Ronan Lynch, the town’s mayor.

"Some go missing on purpose, some by accident," he said. "Some go to a beautiful spot to take their own lives."

Criminal activity also comes into play, Lynch added, but it is unlikely.

“Our town prides itself on its record-breaking low murder rate. Most of the time, people make mistakes and they don't survive," he said. "Sometimes they aren't found. There are not enough people in Coldwell to put eyes on every bit of that ground out there."

Mr. Costigan’s family has chosen to keep quiet and asked for privacy during this trouble time.
Last edited by Chrysaor on Thu Jan 22, 2015 3:43 pm, edited 6 times in total.

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Kirt
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Postby Kirt » Thu Jan 22, 2015 3:23 pm

Roy Waits

“Have you seen this?” he asked Nick as he laid the paper down beside him.

“Seen what?”

“That guy who’s been screwing around in those caves seems to have gotten himself into a bit of a problem, says here they can’t find the old fellow.”

“Constantine? Costlo?

“Costigan.”

“Right, right. That’s no surprise. You can’t just go wandering around out there by yourself. Plus with all these men showing up looking for work and such you never know who you’ll run into out there. Haven’t you been staying out near that place Roy?”

“I’m not that close, but near enough I suppose.”

“Maybe you should keep an extra eye open just in case.”

“Maybe.”

Taking another drink he looked back down at the paper. Wincing as the bourbon burned his wind cracked lips.
What had that fellow come all this way to look for? Nobody had ever shown any interest in those caves except for maybe some young couples looking for a place to be alone. He remembered when the man had shown up asking questions and making people uncomfortable in general. He’d been into Shakey’s a few times, been a little too lit up for his own good, making outrageous claims, talking about things that at the time seemed like utter nonsense.
But on the other hand if this man was risking his life in those woods there must be something in those caves worth something to somebody. And now with this professor gone, it was just waiting out there for someone to come and get it. And there’s no reason that that person shouldn’t be Roy Waits.

Roy shot down the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down in decision. He started to ball up the remaining money he had on the counter and shove it back into his pocket.

“Where the hell are you going already?” Nick inquired.

“I’m going to see a man about a horse.”
Roy stood up, walked over to the coat hooks and started to reapply his layers of coats.

“Horse? What in God’s name are you talking about?” Nick called out behind him.

Roy walked out of the pub without another word.
Last edited by Kirt on Thu Jan 22, 2015 4:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Words Are Wise Men’s Counters… But They Are The Money Of Fools

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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Thu Jan 22, 2015 4:03 pm

The night was cold, dark, and barren, and thick, gray clouds blotted the starless sky. The wind blew across the empty streets, whispering down the alleys and corners. But the wind soon came across a woman, cloaked in a dark blue dress, a long, black trench coat, and the shadows of the night. Her name was Victoria Corvino, a private investigator on he hunt for a case to solve.

Her bronze braid waving to the wind as it passed by. She continued to walk down the street without making a single sound, until she came across an old newspaper on a bench. She held it up, and read the bold lettering on the front "Renowned Archeologist Missing". The article was relating to Neil Costigan, a well known professor from Belfast. He used to work for Victoria's father, and she new him well, as well as all of his research. But now he has gone missing in some small town called Coldwell, which is not that far from Belfast. Apparently he disappeared into the wilderness shortly after he began investigating some ruins in a cave system on the outskirts of the town, calling it a "gate to hell".

Victoria smiled and dropped the newspaper back onto the bench, as small orbs of water began to descend from the dark, ominous clouds, quickly erupting into a cascade of tears. But this didn't faze her, for after all this time, she now had a case to solve, and her first task, make her way to the idyllic town of Coldwell.
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In Gentem Et De Libris Scientiam
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Postby In Gentem Et De Libris Scientiam » Thu Jan 22, 2015 6:03 pm

Abdul slowly woke up at seven. He was slowly getting up since 15 too seven. He would have stayed get up for a while except the phone he had rang. and rang. and rang.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"You are your charming self as ever, Abdul."

"Why does it matter to you, Smareth?"

"I just wanted to tell you that i am in Coldwell."

"And why do i care?"

"It's just that a man went missing. Dr Neil Costigan, to be exact. He was our teacher at Miskatonic, remember."

"Oh, i didn't need you to tell me who he was. I know, and remember. he was searching for a very, very rare book for me. The Book of thoth. He might have been searching for that, or something else. I know he mentioned a hell portal. I believed the book might have been there."

"Oh, i didn't know that. Must be worse for you than for me."

"I know. He was closer to the book than the others were. Oh well. Might come out there to look."

"Others?"

"I have. I mean i had several people looking for the book. Don't know what exactly killed them. I'll be there soon."

Abdul hung up the phone. He went over to his book shelf, and grabbed the 10 volumes of his working Magic books (no old books (he wrote them all himself), and got some necessary powders and such. He put them in his bags (3). He them started the preparations. He drew the circles, put the powders down, sung the chant. "Well the portal is all set up. Time to get going". He then drew a different circle/sang stuff and then blackness......

He woke up a day later. He was out in the ocean. On a door. a door. You heard me right. A D-O-O-R. Fucking get that i'm in the middle of the ocean on a door. That was a lie. I'm off the coast of ireland. Soon he could see the shore. At around 5 o'clock he got to the shoreline. He went into town. He found a taxi. "I would like to go to cold well. Yes it's far away. I will pay upfront."

He got to the town by the next morning. He went to the police station, asked where Dr. Neil was going, and then went outside to find lodging.
Last edited by In Gentem Et De Libris Scientiam on Fri Jan 23, 2015 8:49 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Fri Jan 23, 2015 4:36 am

Before going to Coldwell she went to her house to get any supplies that might be needed. She picked up her handy silver-lined ten focus magnifying glass and a small, portable microscope. She also took a small dagger and pistol and hid it under her coat. She despises violence, it being what took her father away, but sometimes she had no choice. She was about to leave for Coldwell when she noticed a letter on the floor next to the door. She must have gotten mail and din't notice it when she came in. She opened it and noticed that it was from Marian Blake! She was an old friend of Victoria's, they went to boarding school together. She had recently sent a letter to her regarding her recently moving to a mansion that her husband inherited. And where was that mansion one may ask? Nowhere else than super-shady Coldwell. Victoria was ready to investigate the own, but this letter may give her another reason to visit, she began to read...
Last edited by Mundeo on Fri Jan 23, 2015 5:32 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Fri Jan 23, 2015 5:57 am

Mundeo wrote:Before going to Coldwell she went to her house to get any supplies that might be needed. She picked up her handy silver-lined ten focus magnifying glass and a small, portable microscope. She also took a small dagger and pistol and hid it under her coat. She despises violence, it being what took her father away, but sometimes she had no choice. She was about to leave for Coldwell when she noticed a letter on the floor next to the door. She must have gotten mail and din't notice it when she came in. She opened it and noticed that it was from Marian Blake! She was an old friend of Victoria's, they went to boarding school together. She had recently sent a letter to her regarding her recently moving to a mansion that her husband inherited. And where was that mansion one may ask? Nowhere else than super-shady Coldwell. Victoria was ready to investigate the own, but this letter may give her another reason to visit, she began to read...


To Victoria

It has been so long we last spoke, dear friend. Memories of our time during boarding school together already felt like a lifetime ago. How has life been treating you? I hope everything is still well.

I myself was not so lucky. Yes it is true, I now live in Coldwell along with my husband Ian and I am not happy. It all started a few months back with a strange phone call from a lawyer claiming to represent the estate of the Brunswick, some distant branch of Ian’s family. Their last heir passed away recently and left us a large mansion as well as a sizable amount of inheritance. The board of dean at Coldwell’s local academy was even kind enough to offer Ian a job if we decided to move here permanently!

We were skeptical of course -it was too good to be true, but had no real choice. Ian recently lost his teaching job at London and we needed a way to support ourselves somehow. So here we are.

That in itself was bewildering enough: the sudden whirlwind of planning and decisions, legal details and travel arrangements...the packing up and shipping away our entire home, our entire life to a foreign country. But it is this town itself that made it all worse.

There is something wrong with Coldwell.

This town and its people are sullen and grim. No one speaks. No one looks anyone in the eye. No one, in fact had even attempt to speak to us during our months here, except perhaps one of our neighbor. I think they are scared of us.

Then there’s the weather. It is always cold and dark. I have long forgotten the last time I saw the sun! If you were here Vicky, you can just feel a heavy aura of resignation -- and, it almost seems, dread – that hangs palpably over this “idyllic” town.

My husband is no help either, Coldwell changed him somehow. I no longer know the man that wakes up beside me every morning. He no longer smiles, no longer tells me anything and we see each other less and less every day. Something is wrong in this town and it had changed Ian.

Finally, there are the disappearances. People- mostly children, have gone missing and no one seems to care. Professor Costigan was only the latest and most famous victim. The police are no help. They say people disappear all the time, especially out here.

I know you knew him Vicky, and I know you'd never let a mystery goes unsolved so of course I'd help. You could stay with me during your investigation. If it won't bring me any peace of mind than at least there will good be company, just like how it was at school. It will be no trouble; this mansion has enough rooms to hold you and at least a dozen more people. It would certainly be better than living here alone, as I have for some while now.

Please respond soon. I look forward to meeting you again.
Sincerely,
Your friend

Marian Blake
Last edited by Chrysaor on Sat Jan 24, 2015 12:06 am, edited 7 times in total.

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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Fri Jan 23, 2015 6:23 am

*This post is a collaboration with Chrysaor*

The more Victoria read of her friends letter, the more strange this gone looked. Emotionless inhabitants? Disappearing children? A husband losing his mind? This all sounded like the perfect case for her, just begging to be solved. It was just in front of her, right in her reach, and it was time for her to grasp it.

She burst from her home like gust of wind and hopped into her car. She drove off, away from Belfast and towards this mystery town. The rain was beginning to falter, and the clouds were beginning to part, allowing the moon to share its pale light with the Earth. The trip shouldn't be more than an hour or two, but it felt like it went long into the night, Victoria constantly thinking of the enigma that is the town of Coldwell. After an eternity she arrived at the town, which radiated with a gloomy aura. The very sight of the town sent chills down Victoria's spine. Before seeing Marian she decided to go though the town to see what the town was like.

the first thing she noticed is that it was incredibly easy to get lost in Coldwell. The housing districts were a tangle of twisting, claustrophobic alleys between the crowded presses of gloomy brick buildings. Every street essentially led nowhere and even the newer buildings somehow look ancient and shadowy. Right in the middle of this labyrinth was the town square. It was a wide expanse of uneven pave stones, bordered on all sides by the same leaning, steep-roofed architecture that loomed over everything in town.
At the center of the square, rising from a circular lawn of unhealthy-looking grass and weeds, stood a strange, stone obelisk. It seemed to be a monument of some sort, although there was no plaque or markers anywhere near it.
A few government offices were scattered around the area including the mayor’s office, the record center, the police station and a hospital. The Carden Asylum- the local bedlam house, sat nearby in one of the dark corners. The new church was on the next street but was currently under reconstruction after being damaged in a storm.
To the north of the square was the fishing district. A few boats were tied to the wooden pier, next to them were a few warehouses and the local watering hole. The most notable aspect of the district was however, the dilapidated slum. This was where most unemployed and homeless folks in Coldwell ended up at. It was dirty, dangerous and wretched...everything you imagined a slum to be.
A dirty beach could be also spotted from here, a lonely lighthouse stood next to the ocean further west on a cliff.
On a hill to the southeast of the square and further away from the ocean, was an area inhabited by the more wealthy citizens of Coldwell. Houses were bigger here, a rare sight for a backwater settlement. The biggest house was the Brunswick manor, its ominous shadow loomed over the entire town. That was where Marian and her husband were living. The only other notable sight around here was the Gainssmere Academy, its vaulted rooftop still somewhat visible behind the houses. The school was Coldwell’s only claim to cultural significance - thanks to its large and extensive library.
Atop the same hill was a scenic view where the treeline fell away at the bend in the road, giving way to a panoramic view of the coastal town. Here Victoria could see everything she had just walked through, and more. Half-hidden by the surrounding forest to the northwest is Coldwell paper mill where most of the townsfolk went to work. An older, now abandoned church can also be spotted among the trees near the mill. Beyond that there was just the untamed woods and deep, dark mountains.

Now that Victoria has a bearing on her surroundings, she went to the mansion that Marian said she lived in. She walked up to the doors, which watched over like dark, wooden sentinel. On the door was a knocker, and Victoria subsequently used it, then waited for someone to answer.
Last edited by Mundeo on Fri Jan 23, 2015 12:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
What is a sig? A miserable little pile of words! But enough talk!
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Kirt
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Postby Kirt » Fri Jan 23, 2015 12:07 pm

Roy Waits

The rain was now pouring down as Roy made his way through town. He had decided to make a stop at Billy Perdues house to call in a favor before leaving town. Roy never considered himself a coward, but he never considered himself an idiot either. If he was going to go into these caves, it’d probably be better to not do it alone.
Roy was heading toward the part town where the factory workers and unemployed usually ended up, on Fenlow Street. This disgusting poor excuse for a neighborhood was where the people considered by the upper class to be too unsavory to look at were sent to be forgotten. The houses in this slum district (if you could call them that) were barely kept even remotely livable. Sometimes people living with fifteen to twenty people to one room. No furniture, no beds, not even table to eat on. It was a despicable existence.

Roy worked his way down what at one time had probably been considered a street. Now it was an ankle deep carpet of sewage. There was no escaping the filth, or the smell of this place. As Roy slogged through the street toward Billy’s house he could hear the sickly moans of the people inside. People died from consumption all the time around here. It’s a horrible way to go. There was nothing you can do to stop it when people are forced into these deplorable conditions. They had once even moved everyone out to attempt to clean the diseased ridden hell hole. But sickness came back just as bad. That was the last time anyone had even pretended to care about the people here.

Roy came up to the place he had last known Billy to be staying and walked into the ramshackle house. There were four men sitting around a small fire they had built in the middle of the room. They seemed to be concentrating on a small hunk of something or another they were attempting to cook.

“I’m looking for Billy Perdue.”

A grizzly looking old timer raised a leathery bearded face.

“Billy? Nobody’s seen Billy for almost two weeks.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Had a man come down here looking for workers to help with some excavation he was doin’. Must have been a good job, I ain’t seen him since.”

“That man with the job, his name wouldn’t have been Costigan would it?”

“Don’t know, never said, or I didn’t hear. Either way I can’t help yah friend.”

“Thanks.”

Roy left the house and began to make his way to the outskirts of town. He wasn’t too happy about the fact that he couldn’t find Billy, of all the scumbags he knew Billy was the only one that not only owed him, but could also be trusted to some extent. Either way it didn’t matter anymore, he didn’t have the time to look around for anyone else.

Roy wondered if the man that had offered Billy the job had been the same bloke that was missing. Would almost have to be he thought, how many other people are going around Coldwell playing scientist? Although it really wasn’t unusual for someone from that district to come up missing, either from a job out of town or a deal gone bad. Whatever had happened, it was too bad, Billy was a good guy.

Before heading to the caves Roy stopped back at camp. Ducking down into his lean-to he began to dig around in a small crate where he kept what few valuables (valuable to him at least) he had. He produced a small kerosene lantern from the crate. Holding it up to his ear he shook it to determine if it was even worth bringing along. Inside he heard a satisfying slosh of kerosene. Grabbing his lantern and his knife he headed off to the caves.
Roy arrived at the caves not long after he had left camp. Apparently he was camped a lot closer to the caves than he had thought. He looked around at the caves dark mouths yawning from the earth. If the caves were not enough to chill at first sight, then the soft moans of the breeze emanating from them would at least give any man doubts about his intention to enter these caves.

Roy kneeled down and set the lantern on the ground in front of him, reaching into his inside breast pocket produced a box of matches. Striking the match on the edge of his front tooth, he held the flame to the wick.
He adjusted the flame and once satisfied headed to the largest entrance to the caves that he could see.
Last edited by Kirt on Fri Jan 23, 2015 12:21 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Words Are Wise Men’s Counters… But They Are The Money Of Fools

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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Fri Jan 23, 2015 1:06 pm

Mullinahone’s entrance led to a cramped tunnel that ran for about 10 meters before widening into an inner cavern. Dread was almost palpable in the air, it's not hard to see why not many folks would want to wander in here. Stalactites hung from the arching roof like rotten teeth. Dark rock glittered wetly in the faint sunlight that got through the cracks... Roy found a worn path inside the cave after some fumbling then followed it. The path led for almost a hundred meters before splitting to circle an enormous pit and turned downward. This was a staircase someone had built. Each step was carefully paved in stone, probably meant to invoke the feeling of grandeur, though now worn away by time they only looked decrepit. The air got colder and colder after every step he took.

As he reached the bottom, Roy was swallowed by space as the cavern stretched about him into a large dome. His eyes couldn't cut through the pitch blackness that shrouded the cave ceiling – even with the lamp in his hands but he knew it must be enormous judging by the echo of his footsteps. It must be at least 50 meters high.

The rock walls around him was covered from top to bottom in hideous carvings of humanoid creatures. Their grotesque, leering faces were too horrible even to look upon. Their features twitching and smirking in the wavering lantern light. Roy's own bulging shadow seemed to stalk him.

The path was still carefully paved here, sided by huge stone columns. Roy took in the little sights as he crept through the stone path: there were smashed pieces of ceramics, half-destroyed sculptures of humans that didn't look quite human as well as what looked like remains of animals - or at least what he hoped was the remains of animals. This place was mostly likely a temple, a place of worship of some sort. An overwhelming sight, if it located anywhere else in the world Mullinahone would likely be a cultural heritage of priceless value.

He walked and walked for what must have been a few hundred meters before the path abruptly stopped, blocked by a single door on massive limestone walls that climbed way beyond where the light could reach. The door was enormous, nearly 10 meters on a side, and made entirely of some smooth, greenish-gold metal that reflects the lantern's light with an oily, wavery sheen. There was no handle, no keyhole or latch of any kind. There seemed to be no physical way of opening the door at all -- just the smooth rectangle of metal, adorned with a single symbol etched into its center.
Last edited by Chrysaor on Fri Jan 23, 2015 11:24 pm, edited 9 times in total.

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Kirt
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Postby Kirt » Fri Jan 23, 2015 2:22 pm

Roy Waits

Roy stood before the cyclopean door, straining his eyes upward trying to determine where it ended. As hard as he tried the darkness seemed to stretch farther than any eye could possibly reach. The depth of the blackness was so thick, so complete that it seemed as though the world that he had left above him had ceased to exist. The more Roy became aware of the expanse, the more the cavernous temple seemed to draw him into a world enclosed within its self. As if the earth had never existed to begin with.

Roy’s head began to spin with vertigo. A distant resonance began to hum. No, not the distance, it was a distance from within, as if the origin of the sound was working its way from within his mind and reverberating back into him.

The flame of the lantern began to falter, flickering and ebbing with every breath that Roy would take. He felt his grip on the lantern begin to fail, his hands were numb. His eyes were beginning to burn. Then the noise grew so intense that it had become intolerable. He dropped the lantern to cover his ears, but it was no use. The Sound was a part of him. It was everywhere and nowhere at once. His body felt as though it had been filled with millions of vibrating strings being plucked wildly by an inconsiderate child as it played to the tempo of the damned. He dropped to his knees no longer able to hold in the scream that had been building within. Eyes held tightly shut with his hands over his ears, the scream seemed to last for an eternity. Then, all at once, nothing.

Roy sat with his eyes closed for a moment. The air had become still as if none had been left in the room. Through his eyelids he could make out a light. He slowly opened his eyes to realize the source was the archaic symbol on the door. It pulsed slowly between hues of green and deep blue. It was beautiful. And before he knew what he was doing, he laid his fingers upon the symbol.

Roy’s vision telescoped down into pin holes, a blinding white light burst, filling all that he was. The light abruptly retreated, replaced by scenes of death and destruction. Mutilated bodies, sacrifices, rapes, fires, wars, and murders of every conceivable fancy, screamed through his mind all at once. He saw thousands upon thousands of civilizations fall. Scores upon scores of people pulled into the void of endless nothing, screaming into a desolate landscape of violence. He wasn’t even sure that the figures that he saw could even be considered human. The experience of worlds upon worlds being devoured seemed to last for eons.

Then all was cleared away, all that remained was the presence. It could not be seen, but also could not be not seen. Its aura surrounded everything, body, soul and mind. It seemed as though Roy had never been himself, only a part of the entity. He had forgotten about his body he had forgotten about his mind, all that mattered now was the being. Then he saw the eye. It grew so immense that it became the only world that existed or had ever existed. And as quickly as it had appeared it burst into a cacophony of screams that could only belong to the insane and the damned.

And then there was black.
Last edited by Kirt on Fri Jan 23, 2015 3:13 pm, edited 13 times in total.
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In Gentem Et De Libris Scientiam
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Postby In Gentem Et De Libris Scientiam » Fri Jan 23, 2015 7:09 pm

Abdul walked around the town, trying to get to the library place. He got there after around an hour, spent 2 getting some spells that he didn't know. After that he went to the caver, taking 2 hours to get there. He used a spell which created a floating white ball of light. He spent around half an hour walking through the temple, admiring the artwork (he knows a little about what the things are), and then came to the door as the man touched the symbol.

He rushed over when the guy fell unconscious. He checked what he know about medicine, and felt that some rest would be best. He drew a portal, and then took them back to his house in the USA. After he left the guy there with a note, grabbed a large metal symbol (same as the one in the door (i'm guessing it's the elder sign), and went back.
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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:27 am

The clearing at the end of the ascending driveway, surrounded by gnarled and ancient trees, was where one Marian Blake lived. The fabled Brunswicks family mansion loomed before Victoria in the gloom, its dark creaking presence dominating the clearing and, somehow, even though it was not visible through the trees, the entire valley. The foreboding shadow of the Brunswicks seemed to enshroud all of Coldwell from here.

Perhaps it was merely the effect of some unwholesome vapour rising from the murky waters of the nearby river, but the temperature around this mansion seemed perceptibly cooler than normal. A clammy mist hung thickly in the air, seeping through Victoria’s clothes, making her shiver as she waited for her friend.

Finally, the thick wooden door swung open.

“Victoria!” Marian said as she embraced the other woman. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to come so quickly. Finally, another friendly face…I…I..didn’t know if I could last much longer on my own.”

When they knew each other in boarding school, Marian was 17. A bright, cheerful and athletic young woman, she was the captain of the women’s tennis team while still keeping good grades. Her family was also rich and she was loved by many boys…Marian had it all. Then she gave it all up to elope with a young school teacher in London by the name of Ian Blake.

Now before her stood the 23 years old Marian Blake. Though still tall and poised, she looked thinner and her shoulder length blonde hair had lost some of its color. Marian tried to put on a welcoming face for the visiting friend but her eyes betrayed her emotions. She was clearly rattled by recent events.

“Welcome to Coldwell, friend.” Marian said sadly. “I’m afraid there isn’t much here besides gloominess. Please come inside, I see it’s getting dark.”

The host led Victoria through the door. Although it appeared spacious from the outside, the house's interior feels cramped and oppressive. The walls seemed too close together; the ceiling was too high. The doorways, leading in several directions, were narrow and filled with shadows, and the stairs leading up to the second floor were steep and rickety. This is not a house that made you feel welcome. It was a house that makes you feel tiny and timid, and afraid of dark places. It was a house that makes you feel alone.

“You’ll have to excuse the mess.” Marian gestured tiredly at the clutter of carelessly stacked boxes around the house. “It’s so hard to find help in this town and just looking at them drains me of any motivation to unpack.”

The women arrived at a sitting room. It was occupied by a beautiful antique sofa one side and a huge marble fireplace on the other. The hardwood floor was covered by a soft brown hand-woven rug, completing the impression of comfort and coziness. It almost looked like somewhere you could live, as opposed to merely somewhere you could die. Any sense of comfort quickly drained away, however, as soon as one became aware of the icy and maniacal stare emanating from the great portrait hanging over the mantelpiece.

Marian sighed sympathetically and she looked at the painting herself. “Ian refuses to take it down, apparently that’s one of his distant relative. His name was…something Irish.”

The man in the portrait was the apotheosis of everything cruel and inhuman that one could ever laid eyes on. There was nothing regal, fatherly or dignified about this portrait. It was the essence of raving, gibbering evil captured on canvas. His archaic Puritan dress would indicate that he must have lived a very long time ago; perhaps he was the founder of the Brunswick family in this region or even Coldwell itself.

“Ah! Maedoc Brunswick.” Marian recalled the name.

Under the malefic gaze of old Maedoc’s red-rimmed eyes, the most comforting thought one could muster was that of immediate flight. Instead they sat, the sofa was rigid and cold. Marian lit a candle before began speaking.

“We received a notice the other day, from Blackrock Regional Utilities Company.” She sounded defeated “There was wiring trouble or something like that. There isn’t going to be electricity here for at least two weeks.”

Night had now undeniably fallen, and the house is very, very dark. Out of the candle flickering light, the rest of the house was a tenebrous maze of shadows, and any exploring would probably best be done in the morning.

“I don’t even know where to start. So many things have gone wrong since we moved here. Let’s start with the first one. The Brunswicks’ lawyer failed to inform us that people died in this house!! Did you know the last owner murdered his entire family and then committed suicide right here?? I can’t think of anything else when I stay indoor these days but at the same time there isn’t anything for me to do outside either. I want to get a job, to do something but nowhere is hiring. And no one wants to talk to me, they avert their gazes and speak in hushed whispers whenever I walk by. There’s only Colleen next door, and even she had avoided me after her son went missing. And..and…”

Realizing she was rambling, Marian shook her head and sighed again. “I’m so sorry. “It’s just been so long since I’ve got someone to talk to. So how have you been Vicky? Or do you have any questions for me?”
Last edited by Chrysaor on Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:44 am, edited 4 times in total.

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Postby Mundeo » Sat Jan 24, 2015 6:38 am

"Oh, I have plenty of questions" Victoria mumbled as she gazed around the gloom of the sitting room, but everything was pitch black, except for whatever was caught in the pale glow of the candle. But she was still able to clearly see the eyes of that painting, it looked like it was alive! But that is impossible, right? The couch was cold and stiif, and extremely uncomfortable, but there was nowhere else to sit in the room, and she did not want to go and look.

She fixed her position on the dusty old couch and said, "I've been alright, Marian, I was just... looking for a case. You know me, always looking for a mystery to solve" Her expression weakened, taking on the gloom and melancholia of the sitting room. "That's really been it. I still live in that small, tacky house; alone" She sighed "I was just walking down a road and I can across a newspaper talking about the disappearance of professor Costigan, then I got your letter, and rushed up to this nightmare of a town".

Her expression suddenly lightened, becoming more cheerful and inquisitive. "Now I have a couple questions regarding the strange events going on in this town.

*Investigation*.

"First, I know why you inherited this mansion, but why did you agree to live here so quickly?"
"Next, when did your husband start to act strange? What were his symptoms?"
"Have you noticed anything iut of the ordinary about this mansion or town? Besides the people and disappearings"
"Lastly, what do you know about the murder here, and what of Neil Cardigan?"
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Postby Chrysaor » Sat Jan 24, 2015 8:40 am

"First, I know why you inherited this mansion, but why did you agree to live here so quickly?"


“As I’ve already mentioned in the letter, we had no choice. Ian lost his job in London. Without a source of income, we couldn’t keep our house. And also…” Marian paused, slightly uncomfortable.

“…I…want to get pregnant, Vicky. We’ve wanted to start a family for so long now but haven’t been successful. I thought… a mansion in the countryside, all that space, would be good for the child no? The fresh air might help us conceive plus the stable job at a private academy for Ian sounds perfect." She smiled a bitter smile “Then we arrived here. How seldom does the ideal match reality…”

"Next, when did your husband start to act strange? What were his symptoms?"


“It was a slow change, I almost did not realize at first. If you met him before, you’d know Ian is the warmest, most gentle and kind-hearted man you’ve ever met. Then around one month after we moved here here…something, I can’t figure out what, changed. He speaks less, smiles less, cares about everything less. I tried to help. I asked him questions but he doesn’t respond. Oh Vicky, Ian used to love waking up. He used to sing Ode to Joy in the shower every morning. That was the sound I woke up to for the longest time…” she reminisced “…now he is silent.”

“Now he spends his days at the Gainssmere Academy doing God knows what and doesn’t return until very late. During days off he locked himself in the study upstairs. I don’t see him anymore.”

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary about this mansion or town? Besides the people disappearing."

“Everything about this town and mansion is strange. People act strange. I think they’re scared of something. They are especially scared of us, of Ian and me.” Marian let out a hard, brittle laugh “It’s mostly me now though. I don’t know what everyone thinks they know about us, about Ian’s family but something’s clearly up. ”

“As for this house, I haven’t explored enough to judge. I only use this room, the kitchen and one bedroom. It is ugly and depressing but the only strange thing I truly say is probably that painting. The eyes are so lifelike.” She shuddered. “The other parts of the house include a gallery, a library, Ian’s study, a few other bedrooms and basement storage. Oh and there’s a crypt in the backyard. Apparently, Brunswicks like to stay together.”

“The house has quite a history though. It was built a few centuries back, renovated a few times. The town’s most prominent family: the Brunswicks were it only occupants. The ups and down of Coldwell recorded itself all over these walls. Then the last owner went crazy, killed his family then committed suicide. You can read about it yourself.”

She handed her friend a piece of paper – a cut-out news article that had been lying on the coffee table. It recounted the story of one Isaac Brunswick, the last owner of the mansion. He was a good citizen for many years, an associate professor of history at Gainssmere Academy- the position Ian currently held. Suddenly, he went mad and quit his job last autumn. Finally, one evening this January, he killed himself, his wife and two daughters – the younger was only 15 months old, with a hunting rifle. The article was short and matter-of-fact but chilling nonetheless.

“Now his legacy has been passed on to Ian.” Marian noted with fear in her voice.

"Lastly, what do you know about the murder here, and what of Neil Cardigan?"

“I don’t know about any murders but there have been many…disappearances. There are the kidnappings which you could ask Colleen, my neighbor. Her little boy was kidnapped last month, poor woman. It’s always children and it had been going on for at least a year now. Some believed it was Isaac who did it at first - it started happening just before he went crazy after all. Then he died, and it kept happening. Now we don’t know anything and the police are useless.”

“Then there are the people missing in the woods, like the professor. The official story is that they get lost in the wilderness, I’m not sure if I believe that. It happens mostly around that cave area, Mullinahone. If you get lost out there it’s your own fault they said.

I didn’t know the professor personally, as you may notice I don’t go out much. I only met him a couple of times at the store. He had a house here but few friends, Coldwell doesn't like strangers. Ian used to told me he frequented the library at Gainssmere as well. Hmm now that I think about it, I’m sure I’ve seen him talk with Colleen a few times so she might have something. That’s all I know I'm afraid.”

Just as Marian finished speaking, the front door creaked open letting in a cold draft...and a man. Ian Blake was returning from his day job. Tall and a bit on the skinny side, he could have been handsome in an endearingly awkward sort of way but now he looked grim and unhealthy, like Death. His features were soft but frozen in a somber and thoughtful expression. His gaunt face was topped with an unruly tangle of brown hair and was adorned by brown horn rimmed spectacles that hid blood shot eyes that so very much reminded the women of the painting before them.

He walked by the sitting room and pointed a dull gaze at his wife and her friend.

"Oh...welcome back Ian." Marian sounded surprise. "You came back early this evening. This is my friend Victoria, I told you she was coming to visit for a few days."

Ian walked off without making a noise, it was like Marian was invisible to him. She sighed, disheartened but not surprised, before turning back to Victoria.

"Well it's late, I'll fix us something to eat then show you a room. You can begin your investigation tomorrow."
Last edited by Chrysaor on Sat Jan 24, 2015 8:47 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Postby Mundeo » Sat Jan 24, 2015 10:44 am

*Investigation Results*

Why Marian is here:

She did already say why she came here, the only new information being that she wanted to have a baby. This shouldn't be too relevant to the case at hand.

Her husband:

The transformation was slow, turning kind, gentle man into a blank, lifeless shell. He spends his time at Gainssmere Academy and study. I should check out both, starting with the study while im here.

The Town and the Mansion:

Marian has only been in a few rooms in the mansion, and mentions that the painting stands out the most to her. I should probably search the whole house while I'm here, and get a closer look at that painting.
Apparently Isaac Brunswick, the one who killed himself and his family, worked at the same academy that Ian does now. If Ian workes at the same place as the same professor, whatever is happening to him might make him like Isaac. That means Marian might be in grave danger.
I warn her "Marian, your husband has the same job that Isaac Brunswick used to and there is now something wrong with him. In case he goes mad like Isaac did, you should keep a safe distance from him"

The professor and the kidnappings:

The child of Marian's neighbor, Colleen, went missing along with many other children. I should visit her during my investigation. She may also know something about the disappearance of Neil Cardigan, who went missing along with others near Mullinahone. That place should be the last area I investigate. The professor also visited the library at the academy, another reason to check that place out.

*End of Investigation*

Now that Victoria has asked Marian on anything she can, she went with her to eat something before being showed a room.
Last edited by Mundeo on Sat Jan 24, 2015 10:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Sat Jan 24, 2015 10:59 am

After Victoria fell asleep, the wind slithered around the eaves and the house creaked furtive secrets to itself, she drifted into troubling dreams...

She was a little girl again, she was in bed, the coverlet was up under her chin. She was waiting for Father to come tuck her in. Footsteps in the hall pause outside the door. She closed her eyes; when she opened them again Father was standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red, and she wondered if he had been crying. Slowly, he started to take off his belt.

Only it's not her father after all, it's Ian. Then the wall breaks and...

She was running from the eye, the terrible eye, through endless, narrow corridors of wooden slats and crumbling plaster. She stumbled through turn after turn, hopelessly lost. There was a small hole in the boards – peering through it she saw Marian in the study, a rope around her neck as she hanged while Ian sat at his desk writing diligently away in his journal. She screamed, she pound on the wall, but they couldn’t hear her. The eye drew closer; hurrying down a twisting passage where she found a dead end... the wall broke and...

Outside, she stood at another dead end, a high brick wall at the end of a steep, twisting lane. Written in black spraypaint...


Ȟ͈̝̦̮̰̒ͫͤ͂́è̗̭̮̩̥͇ ̳̘͔ͦ͡a̟̝̹̞͚l͉͎͙̗̭̽̒͠w̧̽̎ͮ͒ͪ͑ǎ̌͏̯̙͙͉͎͙y̧̘ͬ͛ͬs̘̥̼͓ ͮ̓̈́ͦ҉̪r̙͎̙̻̹̽̀͊͂͋e̮ͤͩ̎͂ͥ͗̔t̬̠͖͍̔ͬ̕ü̥̝͓͌ͮ̄͂̀rṅ̥͖̍ͯ̍̂͌̚s͖ ̙̖̩̻̲ͪt̫̲̜͎̲ͣ̔̓̽̂̌ͤ͠o̡̠̦̺̗ ̘͛̍̈́̈͢h͍̰ͦͨͩ̀ͩiͥ̌́ͮ̂s̤͖̝͈̞̟ͣ̓̉͋́̉͘ ̒̋͐̅́ͤb̴͖͎̯ͫ̔ͣ̏͒l̶͓͍̃ͥͬ̐̆ͮͅo͎̊̋̒̈ͩ̈́̚͠o̭͇͡ͅͅd͚̯̼͞ͅ.͂ͧͭ̀

A fly was buzzing by the bed. Victoria turned...
Last edited by Chrysaor on Sat Jan 24, 2015 12:41 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Postby Mundeo » Sat Jan 24, 2015 2:08 pm

Victoria bolted up from the bed, her heart pounding like thunder, her breath short, and sweat rolling down in hoardes. She was woken up by a fly buzzing near her bed, but she didn't notice it from the thoughts continuously flooding into her mind...

Why was I a little girl again?
What was Ian doing there?


What was that thing that was chasing me?
Is Marian in danger?


Who is returning for his blood
Who is he?!

She froze, now with only one thought in her mind.

Marian...

She bolted out of her bed and down the hallway towards the bedroom Marian said she was staying in. She threw the door open...

She was okay. She was still asleep in her bed. Victoria walked up to her and shook her awake.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Marian yelled.
"You and and Ian have to get out of here" Victoria spoke with her voice shaking with fear. "Both of you are in grave danger as long as you're here. Leave this house. Leave this town!"
Marian got out of her bed. "Fine! Fine. Just let me pack at least."

Victoria sighed with relief, she returned into her room and changed out of her sleeping gown. She put on a white shirt and a navy blue skirt, covering it with her black trench coat. She found Marian at the entrance of the manor alone. "Why is are you alone?" She scolded.
"I tried but... I just couldn't get Ian to get out of that study. He must have been in there all night!"
Victoria sighed. "Fine, I guess I'll have to deal with him later" She handed Marian several keys from her pocket. "These are the keys to my car and my house. There should be plenty of food for you to eat while I take care of this mess" Marian nodded, and reached for the door handle and turned te nob, but it didn't budge. They both tried to pry it open and kick it down, even tryingto open any windows or find other doors, but they were trapped.
Victoria began to panic. "No,no! NO! DAMMIT!" She held her head, and after after a moment, she spoke in a shaky, hopeless tone. "Stay away from Ian. Just stay in one room and try not to get yourself killed! I'll find a way out of here, I promise"

((Im going to wait until I post the investigation so the keeper can add something if they want))
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Postby Kirt » Wed Jan 28, 2015 12:17 pm

Roy Waits

Roy awoke to the pounding that seemed to reverberate in his head. He was freezing and wet. He sat up on his knees and cupped his hands around his forehead, where the hell was he? He tried to focus on the scene that was around him. It was nothing but black, turning around he saw that he was just inside the mouth of the cave. What the hell happened? He remembered only vague images, but they were indistinct and flowed like oil on water through his mind. He had a distinct taste in his mouth but he could not place it, it was something familiar. He put his hand to his mouth the salt on his hands stung his lips. Copper, The taste was copper, blood.

He staggered to his feet swearing to himself. His head was beginning to clear a bit. He remembered that he had walked into the cave. But how had he managed to make it back to the entrance? As he tried to recollect what had happened images began to flood back into his mind, he recalled faces, cries and an eye. He collected himself and began to make his way to the entrance. In the darkness of the cave Roy stumbled on a wet rock beneath his feet. Crashing to the ground he let out an unrestrained swear.
A glimmering of light caught his eye, it flashed back and forth outside of the cave entrance giving life to the shadows. He squinted toward the entrance attempting to allow his eyes to adjust to the animated source of light.

“Hello?” a voice called into the darkness.

The light rounded the mouth of the cave, beside it Roy could make out the shape of a man.

“Hello?” The voice called again.

Roy attempted to stay quiet and low but the man continued to approach. As he came closer he recognized not who, but what he was, it was one of the local police officers. Roy assumed that he had been close enough to hear Roy bumbling around in the cave. Roy stood and shouted to the officer.

“Good evening.”

The officer switched the lantern in his hand to the other so he could keep his hand upon the butt of his gun.

“You’re not supposed to be in here you know. What are you doing?”

“I came in here attempting to get away from this god forsaken weather.”

“Well there’s no crime in that, but this is crime scene. There’s not to be anyone here. Haven’t you read the papers?”

“I’m sorry sir; I don’t keep up much on the news these days.”

The officer approached Roy and held the light up to illuminate his face. Once Roy saw the man he knew instantly who it was, Jeff McConnell. He had put Roy in the cells more than once for some of the late night booze fueled decisions that he’d made in the past.

“Roy?

“Hello Jeff.”

“Why is it every time I find trouble it’s your mug I see?”


“Hard to say.”

“I find it hard to believe you’re just wandering around here for no reason. You’re quite a ways from your usual haunts. And seeing that this is a crime scene you’re in a bit of trouble here. We have a missing man and then you show up messing around where you shouldn’t. I think the chief would probably like to know why you were down here poking around. I think you had better come with me for tonight old boy.

The officer reached down and began to crab his handcuff and approach Roy. He grabbed Roy by his right hand and began to bring it around to his back. A flash of anger started to life in Roy, the image of the eye flashed into his mind. His face flushed and his eyes burned. His muscles twitched with unrestrained anger. Before the officer could react Roy had spun on him, pushing him into the ground on his back. McConnell hit the stone floor of the cave with an audible thud. Roy was upon him lashing out at the man’s face.

McConnell was attempting to defend himself with one hand and gain possession of his gun with the other. The attempt to retrieve the gun did not go unnoticed by Roy.

The two men began to roll across the cave floor attempting to win the gun. The gun fell to the ground beside McConnell; both men lunged to retrieve it. McConnell’s hand felt the barrel of the gun, gripping it tightly he swung and caught Roy in the temple with the hammer, knocking him back onto the ground.

McConnell scrambled to his feet and righted the gun, pointing it at Roy’s face.

“God damn it Roy! Stay down! What the hell has gotten into you!?”

Roy Stood, shoulders slumped looking at the officer from beneath his brow. Blood had begun streaming from the side of his head.

“I’m sorry Jeff, I’m not sure. I think I need help.”

McConnell began to relax his gun and approach Roy. “Just come with me, we’ll find someone to help you out Roy. It’s alright.”

Once the officer was within reach Roy swung his left arm at the gun, breaking the officer’s grip and sending it sailing deeper into the cave. His right hand had swung around to his back producing the buck knife he had in his belt and plunged it into the officer's neck below his jaw. The shock and confusion in the officer's eyes was unmistakable as the sounds like that of an asthmatic struggling for air, began to emanate from the officer. Roy twisted and withdrew the knife, letting the officer crumble to the ground grasping at the gaping hole pouring blood onto the jet black floor of the cave.

Roy stood staring at the man, not entirely sure what he had just done. He stood back a few steps, and then fear gripped him. He turned and ran toward the mouth of the cave and disappeared into the woods.
Last edited by Kirt on Wed Jan 28, 2015 12:35 pm, edited 7 times in total.
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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Wed Jan 28, 2015 2:11 pm

*Investigate the manor*

Victoria wanted to investigate the crypt, but she needed a way to open the door first, so she had to investigate the inside first. She started by returning to the sitting room, the floorboards creaking and moaning as she walked. The sun was in just the right position for light to enter the windows, flooding the room with a warming light. She approached the painting, whose cold stare glared into her soul, searching for her secrets. She slid her hand around the edge of the painting in hopes of finding some kind of switch. Suddenly, her finger can i to contact with something, and she pushed it...
What is a sig? A miserable little pile of words! But enough talk!
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Postby Chrysaor » Wed Jan 28, 2015 10:35 pm

A small compartment above the mantelpiece clicked open at Victoria's discovery. Inside was the mansion's master key - this key could probably open every door in the house

Out in the backyard, old, moss-slimed tombstones, many broken off and leaning crazily like an old
man's teeth, poked up from the soft, mulchy earth. They were servants' graves, most were eroded to near-illegibility and those wasn't were covered with thick, sticky moss. In their midst stood an ancient marble crypt, its heavy iron door nearly obscured by thick draperies of ivy. The trees press close around this quiet enclave of death, leaning together over one's head as if sharing secrets.

Grimly carved letters over the door spelled out a single name: "BRUNSWICK".

Inside the crypt, the air was clammy and frigid, the stone walls damp and streaked with mud and
lichen. Pale, swollen roots push through cracks in the masonry. The smell of damp corruption was almost overpowering here. The walls of this chamber contained dozens of wide, shallow niches; in each niche,
a coffin.

Rank upon rank of the ancient Brunswick family remains were stacked away in this hole, left to crumble and deliquesce together, merging back into the dark matter which gave them birth. Above each niche was a nameplate indicating who was buried here and when they died. The one nearest to the door was a small coffin - that of a child, the plaque read Finn Brunswick born 1905 - died 1906. Most likely a brother of Isaac's.
Last edited by Chrysaor on Thu Jan 29, 2015 7:31 am, edited 4 times in total.

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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Thu Jan 29, 2015 5:00 am

Victoria continued to creep her way down into the crypt, passing numerous coffins along the way as she tried to not be afraid. She passed a coffin that had copious scratches and dents in it, so Victoria looked closer. It looked like someone tried to claw their way in, or out, and the plaque above said "Isaac Brunswick". This was the man who went insane, and the damaged coffin didn't do him justice.

Soon she reached the end of the crypt, and it would have been pitch black if it weren't for the lantern she brought. At the end of the crypt stood one coffin, edged with gold. The plaque above it read "Maedoc Brunswick", the man that was depicted in that painting. Like Isaac's coffin, this one stood out to Victoria, because on the face of the coffin was a symbol of an eye with a slot where the pupil would be. it was the same eye that was chasing her in her nightmare. Now that she saw it, she realized that the exact symbol was also on the handle of the key. Out of sheer curiosity, she put the key in the slot, and turned it.

The coffin door swung open, revealing a chute that went deep underground. Perplexed, Victoria looked in, but suddenly, an unknown force pushed her in. She slid down the cold, dusty chute, then hit the cold, hard ground. She got up, but she lost her lantern in the fall, now standing surrounded by nothing but darkness.
What is a sig? A miserable little pile of words! But enough talk!
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Chrysaor
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Postby Chrysaor » Thu Jan 29, 2015 8:27 am

The chamber held nothing but the musty smell of decay, a faint echo of dripping water and then darkness. No sign of a corpse, a coffin or anything that might have been the remains of Maedoc Brunswick. The only thing of worth in the dank room was a narrow crawlway that led up into a staircase. The room, no - cavern seemed to be a part of the large hill behind the Brunswick manor which already sat on top the town's highest point.

At the end of the staircase was an small, enclosed and open-roofed cave. It was abundantly furnished but everything was currently being covered by a thick sheen of dust and spider's web. By the look of it, this was an observatory. The walls were covered with astrological and astronomical charts with equations and diagrams scribbled across them in crabbed, stilted handwriting.

Dominating the center of the room is a large mounted telescope, pointed almost straight up through the skylight.
Last edited by Chrysaor on Thu Jan 29, 2015 8:30 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Mundeo
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Postby Mundeo » Thu Jan 29, 2015 9:02 am

Victoria followed a light until it opened up into a large cavern with a hole in the roof to let in sunlight. It was some kind of an observatory with a large telescope in the center, and astronomical charts along the walls. She looked at them, but they were nothing interesting; constellations, formulas, and graphs. The one thing that caught her eye was a graph that mapped the location of some stellar body, maybe a planet or a star. She walked up to the telescope and looked through, but it was still daytime, she didn't see anything. She noted to herself that she would come back here at night. On the opposite side of the room was another doorway. Fortunately, it lead back to the crypt. Victoria went back to the manor to continue her investigation.

She went back into the sitting room where she saw Marian. She told her, "The door's unlocked, you should get out of here. It's for your own safety" Marian nodded and left the manor. Victoria sighed with relief, knowing that her friend is now safe, but she still had a lot of work to do in the manor if she wants to understand what's going on.

((I'll continue the investigation at a later time))
What is a sig? A miserable little pile of words! But enough talk!
Have at you!

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