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Monday, May 4th, 1925.
Arkham, Massachussets, United States of America.

With the spring fast earasing the signs of a hard winter, so is life coming back to it's regular interval of warmer days, shorter nights and an increase in activity in all ways of life. The bugs are crawling, the birds are chirping, and the people are coming back to life. All across the town of Arkham, Massachuttets, life is coming back alongside the spring thaw.

For good, and for worse.

Arkham isn't lost on life's darker sides, and so its need for problem solvers are at an all-time high. Be it spirirutally in an age of technology, industrial slaughter exemplified in the Great War and Arkham's veterans home, or in the down-to-earth cases of simple crimes for the police to solve in due course and by the book, everyone needs their heroes.

Or their Investigators.

We move our gaze from the bird's eye view of the town landscape, steep roofs and winding streets of cobbled stones, down to our pedestrian view of an office building. Plain and simple, this is where our story begins. Not The story, but the story of our beloved Investigators. Welcome to The TIME Agency, Mr. Talbott's pet project of unknown origins. When you've got a case in need of solving, but strange occurances and unexplainable happenings keeps our reguluar police force or streetwise gumshoe from taking it seriously, you can always turn to TIME, and her Investigators.

Our Investigators find themselves called to the newly-established Arkham offices of TIME on a chilly, yet sunny monday morning in May. Their handler and superior, Head Detective or whatever you'd like to call him, Harry Peacock, has called the small Arkham investigative team together for their first, real mission into the unknown world of mystery. Everyone makes their way to downtown Arkham after been sent this message, recieved one way or another:

"Important message; Case of missing New England millionaire, Arthur Cornthwaite of Gamwell. Attorney of Mr. Cornthwaite request assistance. Responsibility given to YOU, presence required ASAP. Harry Peacock."

However they make it through the sub-glacial Arkham morning, the Investigators will sooner rather than later find themselves stepping through the newly greased front door of TIME, the pleasent warmth of interiour heating warming the mammalian blood within them all. Mechanical clicking from behind an imaculate office desk announces the early presence of friendly face in the form of the secretary, Miss Henrietta Babson, who without missing a single key continues to type away at her signature typewriter, giving each entering Investigator the same message.

"Harry's waiting for you in the main office. Don't make him wait, dear, he's finally got something big for you. Good luck."



Rythmic beats of a drum whips in place the soothing melodies of a saxophone, disrupted by the marvels of technological radio waves; Harry Peacocks loves his radio, to which you know he personally ordered installed in the main office of TIME Agency. Wherever he goes, a tune follows, almost as if he was the figmet of someone imagination in a radio drama.

Today is no exception, as he welcomes each of you entering seperately or together, giving a simple nod to your respective chairs around the office. He himself remains seated on top of his office desk, ready to get on his feet to follow a lead like the experienced detective he was, and very much is as far as you know.

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"Ah, glad you could make it this early in the morning. Gives me some hope there's some detective inside of you, after all." Harry humours you as each of you enter the office, puffing out cigarette smoke as if second nature. Investigative eyes scan you, though not with malice. Harry's the type to give one a good look before picking his words. As Harry himself would put it, words of wisdom to any detective he learned from an old cop friend in New York. As people seat themselves and make themselves comfortable in their own chairs, their office desks reflecting their personalities, Harry turns down the radio's volume and picks up a pair of papers.

"Let's play 20 questions, gumshoes. What do you know of a certain Mr. Arthur Cornthwaite, you Snoops-in-making? Ready to figure out if he's really missing, or just acting like millionaires do?"

*Roll for KNOW/EDUCATION to remember information about Arthur Cornthwaite. Other skill might be requested for other information. PM me your rolls for outcome.*

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“Shuttup...” Eleonora growled, feeling the annoying buzzing of a doorbell. It was early morning… probably. Yeah it most certainly was, judging from the unholy abomination called sunlight that was making it’s way through the curtains that she had in her stupidity forgotten to pull over to block the windows before going to bed last night. Well she had better things to worry about back then. Well maybe worry was a wrong word as the killer headache was making itself known with all it’s wild fury of a racing stampede of mustangs across the plains.

Growling at the incessant noise that was killing her everything right now, she pulled herself out of her rather comfortable bed, still dressed in her silken nightgown and downed the glass of water on the nightstand by the bed. It helped a touch…. Just a touch. Not even minding her state of general undress aside the nightgown that really didn’t hide all that much, she dragged herself over to the front door where the killing noise was coming from her doorbell.” WHAT!?” She half growled, half shouted as she pulled the door open in a violent manner, glaring murdering daggers. Sexy nightware not withstanding, her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and her eyeshadows were dark enough to make her appear rather scary. What turned out to be the source of her wrath, was a young man, probably no more than 13 years of age. The kid’s eyes bugged out at her appearance, stammered, flushed and reached out a messenger note to her which she grabbed and slammed the door shut afterwards, dragging herself to the bedroom once more, sitting on the bed and after finally working her head through the headache, reading the note.

“Huh… of course, it had to be today.” She cursed under her breath. Rubbing her eyes and standing up, nearly tripping this time, having stumbled over one of the empty bottles from last night. Drunken flashes coursed through her mind, mostly disjointed as she made her way to the bathroom and proceeded to do with her mourning routine of showering with somewhat cool water and other morning health necessities including cleaning her teeth and mouth very well. Had to maintain decent smile despite all the alcohol and smoking after all.

The message had arrived in early morning, dawn barely arriving, so 2 hours later she was ready with everything, cleaned up, dressed properly and makeup applied to resume her usual appearance for those outside her home. Chewing on some ground coffee, she walked out of her home and headed to the agency. The cool morning air would help her wake up faster she surmised, especially with the raw coffee.

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Wrapped in her black long coat and with her head protected from the chill by the humble black fedora, Ellie made her way inside the TIME agency’s office where she had been called. A sight for sore eyes, was the visage of the familiar secretary that manned the desk. The woman greeted her without missing a beat, professional that one was. Eleonora took off her coat and hat, putting them on the hanger.” Merci, love. I will hurry in that case. Though before I go, I must say, you look very beautiful this morning. We should well arrange an outing one of these days. Mayhaps a coffee?” She half flirted half complimented, hiding a wince as the sound of drumming type writer was like a rather uncomfortable approximation of big drums right by her ears. Coffee, cold and water helped, but didn’t magic hangover away. It just made it easier to manage the symptoms.” Well better not keep Harry waiting, see you later, love.” She added and headed into the office.

“Bonjour, Harry.” She greeted with a sultry smile, making her way into the man’s office and taking a seat as close to the window as possible to keep an eye out, she also noted that she was the first to arrive. That was funny, considering her state in the morning. In any case since the man was already smoking, she made sure to pull her own cigarette and light it up, taking a puff from it. In any case as the others began to arrive, she was a bit overly focused on fighting a hangover without looking such, so she just kept a neutral face, half closed eyes and silently smoking her cigarette. When the music was finally lowered down, she was quite grateful actually, though her eyebrows furrowed at the question that followed. Ellie tried to recall, but she couldn’t really remember hearing the name right now. At least not without any sort of context. If he was rich as it seemed, she may be ware of something related to the man, but by name alone? Right now she was drawing blank.

“Considering I just woke up and didn’t know the man was missing before that messenger arrived, I can’t say that I remember the name from anywhere. Might come back to me later though in different context.” She replied, taking a puff from her smoke once more, leaving faint red lipstick marks on the cigarette butt as she did, eyes focusing at Peacock.” If he’s that rich, it’s all the more weird nobody knows where he is. Men with money… well they tend to have people following their every move in attempts to curry favor or just try to make use of em.” She mused, taking another puff from the cigarette.” Any specific reason his attorney contacted US rather than the police? Surely there was more information given about this case than simply ‘ go find him’.” She quipped.

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The day started as any other day for Professor Jeremiah Dupree would have. He woke up a few minutes before the knocker-upper arrived, in a cold sweat with the dredges of some unremembered nightmare sauntering off. Next was feeding Autumn, for otherwise she would cry at his door as he got ready, and she knew how to cry in the most heartbreaking manner that made her difficult to ignore. Today’s breakfast was mutton for her. Then it was time for his own breakfast, a fried egg and toast, and the two ate in companionable silence, only interrupted by chewing noises. As he cleaned up after the meal, he could hear the mail being delivered and vowed to get it after he cleaned up for the day and got dressed. As he did so, the mail delivery completely slipped his mind as he focused on what he had to do today instead. Today, he had no classes and was between research projects; he’d need to pick his next anthropology topic soon, so why not make that his focus today? Maybe he could do a synthesis of the political ruling styles of the various tribes he’d observed in Africa. Surely he could see if he had enough material for that and have some grad students confirm that his old notes reflected the reality of these tribes currently. That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. He’d have to go into the university today, something he was otherwise loath to do in this chilly weather, but if it meant being ahead of things, it would be worth it.

Jeremiah nearly tripped over Autumn as he left his room, dressed for the day. Autumn, as any cat would, took offense and practically flew down the stairs away from him. He sighed as he regained his balance, letting go of his door frame. He would scold her, but he didn’t think she understood. She’d just tilt her head and mew quizzically, and he’d give up and offer pets. It was just best to let it go and move on. In fact, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Autumn looked up at him and meowed, flopping down. He knelt and rubbed her back, listening to her purr. Cats. What else was there to say?

He headed to the door and only then, seeing envelopes in his mail basket, did he remember the mail had been delivered. Right. He picked up the mail and shuffled through it. There wasn’t much: a paycheck from the university, a letter from his Cornell roommate Adrien, and - hello, what was this? The final letter had no postmark, possibly hand-delivered while he had been getting dressed. What was far more interesting was the sender, Harry Peacock. TIME had a case for him and his other recruited agents (none of whom he knew especially well, mostly just that they existed), it seemed. The university would have to wait, he supposed as he grabbed his coat and hat. At least until he determined why this case was worthy of TIME.

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The drive over had been peaceful, allowing Jeremiah time to get his thoughts in order. He knew of Arthur Cornthwaite, but the details were proving maddeningly elusive. The man studied the cultures of - he wasn’t sure. But surely he could recall his archaeological work in... He wasn’t sure. To be fair to himself, he was usually too caught up in his work to do his civic duty of keeping up with the rich and famous. But he knew Cornthwaite was an anthropologist as well, so why couldn’t he remember his work? By the time he’d parked his car and made the walk to the detective agency, he’d begun chewing away at the nail on his ring finger on his right hand.

The warmth of the office knocked him out of his head a little, and he shrugged off the coat, sticking his right hand into his jacket pocket as soon as he was able. His left hand fumbled with his hat a little, but he managed to hang it on a hook. Miss Henrietta spoke, but the words escaped Jeremiah’s notice and he just said, “Good morning”, hoping she had not asked a question.

He entered Harry’s office, giving the man an acknowledging nod and seating himself, tapping the fingers of his left hand against his leg in rhythm with the music playing. It was preferable to the smell of smoke that pervaded the office, something which he knew complaining about would be pointless. Jeremiah tried to avoid pointless chatter as a matter of principle. The door opened and closed a few more times, fellow agents (he was sure) entering and seating themselves. He was almost disappointed when the man turned the music down, but it meant it was time for business.

"Let's play 20 questions, gumshoes. What do you know of a certain Mr. Arthur Cornthwaite, you Snoops-in-making? Ready to figure out if he's really missing, or just acting like millionaires do?"

Well, he could partially answer that. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Arthur Cornthwaite is well-known for his work in anthropology, archaeology, and philanthropy.” But if only he could remember what kind of work...

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Alas, the morning had come. Margarete had wished she could spend a few more minutes- No... a few more hours in bed. But she had a shop to run, and bussiness to attend too. Standing up out of bed her feet hit the floor with a heavy thud as the disheveled woman stood up. On her night stand her grandfather's .45 waited, loaded for in case some poor bastard tried to get her while she slept. Or anything else that may try it. Not that she was any good with it. Outside of firing it in the woods a few times some years ago the only time she grabbed it nowadays was when she went to bad with an ill feeling, or to put it away. Sometimes she'd go out and take it with her if she was worried trouble might find her. But that was a rare occasion. The damn thing barely fit in her handbag anyways. Locked away in the drawer though, it sat still loaded just in case. Just in case. The thought that kept crossing her mind since she left France. Making her way to the window she pulled the blinds that faced the sunrise open. The bright morning beams felt just wonderful against her scarred and ruined face. It helped her feel at peace, the rise of a new day.

Morning routines were simple enough. Shower, find the nicest clothes she could find. Curse the clothes that DARE to not fit her correctly anymore! Neatly reorganized everything in her bathroom until everything was back in place. Organized by size, purpose, then replaced those things that would need more attention later. Sealing them inside a used up coffee tin to be deep cleaned later. The clothes she wore were her favorite beige pencil skirt, a nice blouse to go with it, and a nice suit jacket she would put on after breakfast. Breakfast was always a chore. She used to love to read the newspaper when she ate her breakfast, but now she had to forgo that until she was done and down to only her coffee to make time to prep and organizing. Eggs cracked and poured into circle shaped metal cutters, bacon strips cooked in neatly parallel lines, and some hash to act as a side made into another perfect circle like the eggs. But the eggs always turned out into different shapes, the yokes were never centered, the bacon strips always shrank to different lengths and angles. The whole thing was a nightmare for Margarete who only wanted a nice breakfast. She didn't care about these things nearly as much when she was in the woods. But home, or at work, when she was faced with a structured day to day life? Everything needed to be as perfect as could be. At least the hash stayed a circle. There was already a good start. The smell of fresh coffee only helped with that. The way the table was set one may guess she was preparing for a nice date, not that there was a Mr. O'Bryon in her life. Multiple forks set about in neat fashion, two spoons, a water cup on one side, and coffee on the other. With the table set, food made, Margarete was finally able to sit and enjoy her breakfast. Allowed to de-stress herself and get her morning rolling before she had any clients to deal with.

Though a single strand of hair that didn't seem to know it's place kept trying to mess up her meal, Sprinkles had saved the day before she took her anger out on a table she really didn't want to replace. The chubby orange cat jumped onto her lap and began purring up a storm as if his favorite human couldn't be beat by anyone. "Don't think you can butter me up so easily. I know why you're really here." The cat seemed to look up at her with the biggest smiling, purring like a motorboat as he continued to rub up against her. "It's not going to work. I have learned the secrete to your ways. I shall persist!" She said in a conquering tone. The chubby cat simply gave her a happy "Meow". Margarete soon admitted defeat. "Sigh... fine... let me finish the has first." Sprinkles perked up! He knew his mother too well. Margarete set the plate down on the floor with some eggs and most of a strip of bacon still left. Sprinkles was pleased his servant had fed him and immediately began ignoring his human once he had gotten what he wanted. "Ya wee bastard! Where's your end of the bargain!" Sprinkles ignored her in favor of the bacon.

Grabbing the mail that had been dropped off, she skipped over the newspaper wasting a fair amount of time spoiling her cat, and demanding his affection. Some were bills, some were letters asking about items she sold months ago, some were offers for more collectables. Overall, the usual stuff. What did catch her though... The unstamped letter was pretty easy to tell who it came from. But she still had to spend some time decrypting it. "Important message... New England millionaire... Respa... respatility..." She mumbled as she read the letter. Given another pot of coffee she could make out words easier. But she had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. "Responsibility! Great... uhm..." She held a reading level of a student who had never finished school. Though she loved to read, she was slow, and the early morning still ahead of her she was more off than usual. "...presence required ASAP..." She paused, reading that over. So it was TIME. She was hoping she'd be less groggy by the time she got there. Last thing she needed to do was make a fool of herself, or have to beat down some poor bastard that decided to call her out for it.

She put on her suit jacket, a felt fedora for the weather, and grabbed her handbag from her room. She paused, looking back at the side table. She always had her knuckles within her bag should she need it. But if TIME was reaching out to her, she had an idea of the kind of trouble she expected. Taking her keys, she took the old army revolver out of the drawer and slid it into her bag. Still loaded from the night before. Locking it back up she left to get to work. "Stay out of trouble sprinkles, mum will be back soon enough. Make sure to not sleep all day!" She called out knowing the cat would do just that. But it made her feel better to at least say something. Sprinkles, was already asleep on top of a box by the radiator. She left a sign on her shop saying simple "Went out on important errands, shall return later." Attached to it, were a few of her business cards.

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Margarete chose to walk. The fresh air helped her keep a level head when confronted with problems and stressers. Plus, it was easy for her to make it past most crowds. She stood over most woman, and many men. She was intimidating by size alone. The scars on her face only seemed to help that fact as no one dared bump into the woman. She stepped through the doorway to be greeted by the lovely secretary. "Mornin' Miss Babson. Taking care of yourself?" She asked intrigued, but alas she was in a hurry. Inside she saw two other agents, and Harry Peacock. She made sure to give each a courteous acknowledgement of a nod, and eye contact. Though kept her hat on. She was still self conscious about the burns sometimes. And for whatever reason she felt the hat helped draw attention away from them.

She continued her heavy steps, her lifted shoes nearly stomping with her weight on the floor as she walked into the office. Though she arrived a little late, she arrived soon enough to get the gist of what was going on. She had to ponder the question for a moment. Then it hit her! "Arthur Cornthwaite is a wealthy lad who went on a fair amount of expeditions, made money off them, and had an obsession with tribes from about tha' world. Saw him once at an event, but can't say I know much more on The man. I think he's local? At least to the Northeast." She shrugged. But she guessed that is why they were there. To know about this man, and figure out where he had gone. Though, the smaller girl had a point. Why did the attorney think that they needed to be involved instead of the police? She was sure there was a reason, but off the top of her head, she couldn't think of one.

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Date: Monday, May 4th, 1925
Time: Morning
Location: TIME Agency Office - Arkham, Massachusetts

TIME Office: French words of a flirtatious nature brought the mechanical symphony to a brief halt, accompanied by the slighest of chuckles from the red-headed secretary seated behind the office desk. Henrietta placed her palm on her lips, as if to hold in a scandalous gasp from leaving into the world at large. "Why thank you, Madam, you don't look any worse yourself." Henrietta thanked Eleonora, keeping her typewriter silent for a few more moments as she was left to her own waiting for the others to arrive. "A coffee, of course, Ellie. Just don't get your hopes too high. You know how Harry feels about these office romances, not to mention my boyfriend. Later!"

Time moved unnoticeably as the entrance opened again, this time letting the Professor inside. Henrietta's typing drowned out the very steps Jeremiah took, and only the distant breath of the bookworm's "Good morning." proved to the secretary that this had in fact not been the figment of her imagination. Soon enough she was by herself in the reception again, talking to herself. "Good morning, Miss Babson. Good to see you, Miss Babson. How is the cat doing, Babson? What do you think about this new book about a sketchy shiek called "Gatsby, diving deep into the opposing forces of old money and new money in American society, Miss Babson"? Jesus wept! Next time allow me to whack you over the head with something, Professor Dupree..."

Footsteps of a semi-cyclopediean elavation alarted Henrietta of the next Investigator's entry, that of Margarete O'Bryon, the friendly Celtic Gigantess - emphasis on "friendly". Without ceasing her automatic dexterous dance of fingers tapping on keys, she sent a smile towards Margerete as she asked of her well-being, just as she passed and went into the main office. "Just like I always do, Miss o'Bryon. Glad to see you up and dandying. Remind me to send you that catalouge of artifacts from that museum in Boston!"

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Three. Three of five investigators had managed to arrive in time to the briefing. Harry chuckled briefly to himself, leaning over the desk and looking up at the clock ticking away on the wall. Monday morning, still early in May. Yeah, he thought three out of five wasn't too bad, not for a newly established branch in a town like Arkham.

Without further fanfare, Harry gave each investigator a good look and nodded as they commenced their first step in becoming true gumshoes; prelimenary thoughts on the case.

Eleonora's insight into the name of Arthur Cornthwaite left little reaction from Harry, a quick look over at the pseudo-French detective giving the impression of annoyance or disapproval of her attitude. Or perhaps it was the state in which she had arrived. Harry was a private detective himself after all, and knew when to spot someone The day after.

Then again, Harry had to admit, she had been the first investigator to arrive after his call. Even if she was hungover anf arrived with an attitude, she had arrived first.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette while Eleonora continued her second and reflected part of her train of thought, Harry eventually brought the conversation onto something, he hoped, more productive. "Famous folks attract those who want fame themselves. That's why I wound up here, privacy is one precious luxury in this time and age. Eleonora, good point you have there; if he's rich, how did no one catch onto him vanishing? Means he either actively seeks his privacy, or lives isolated from wider society."

The Professor's blunt statement of academic fact was different in every sense of the word from Eleonora's; brief, factual and lacking of emotional judgement. While the first lady had raised some questions, Jeremiah had to Harry's nods of approval given facts. "Correct, Professor. Mr. Cornthwaite seems to be an able man, both in wealth and mind. You should consider if these facts are relevant in some form or fashion; if not as a motive, then as providing us a fram for his disappearance."

Margarete's input was returend with further accknowledning nods from Harry, silently observing the Celtic lass expanding upon what Eleonora and Jeremiah had begun. "We've got a source of income then, as well as some type of quirk to our New England adventurer. Tribes without a sense of direction. Good, we're gaining a clearer impression of Mr. Cornthwaite, detectives. Anything else?"

Ending the burning ambers of the little remains of his cigarette, Harry puffed out the nicotine cloud he'd harboured within his lungs, before continuing. "Lastly Eleonora, they didn't contact you. They contacted me, and I want you to prove yourselves as good gumshoes, so I give the case over to you." Not a moment after ending this quite direct order, the pieces of paper Harry'd held revealed their truths; a typewritten letter and a newspaper-clipping.

"I recieved this letter before the weekend, and have been contemplating whether or not you bunch were ready or not to take on this case. Today and your presence here has given us an answer, and I hope for all our sakes that it is in the affirmative. Anyway, I got this letter alongside the attached clipping for a newspaper, mailed from a small town called Gamwell. I'm not sure which associate of mine this attorney, Mr. Dodge is referring to, but that's not relevant right now. What is relevant is the letter, clipping and Mr. Dodge's request to locate Arthur Cornthwaite and his fate, for a fee of course."

"To you who haven't read the letter, here's the gist of it; Mr. Dodge asks me, and consequently you, to locate the missing Mr. Cornthwaite. He lives in Gamwell, further up the Miskatonic Valley quite far away. Appears the local sheriff didn't find anything suspicious, and taken no further action. That, Miss Eleonora, is why Arthur Cornthwaite's attorney contacted us. Ergo, your first case will be to uncover Mr. Arthur Cornthwaite's whereabouts and, or, fate, on behalf of his attorney. The clock's ticking, gumshoes. What's your plan? If you want one last piece of Harry's Detective Wisdoms, you should go talk to his attorney first. Now if you're all ready, this will be one long car ride for all of you."

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Most times some controlled breathing or a little bit of prayer was enough for Charlie to clear his mind, of which he found himself needing to do more and more nowadays; tonight though a walk was in order. As he sauntered up and down Arkham's streets he thought a bit on the downward tendency of his mental state. He should be happy (or at least relatively so) now that he had a job once again, no longer a vagrant in priests clothing wandering in search of a new purpose. However the once holy man had found the downtime his new profession seemed to afford was doing more harm than good. Blips and snippets of nightmares would worm their way into both his waking and slumbering mind making his question their validity and if they were some way to deal with the shell shock of war or his time in Alberta or perhaps they were more genuine and less subjective visions clawing their way back into his conscious mind. Father C stopped this train of thought as he approached closer to his, for now, home. His walk proved to be less useful than he'd hoped so rather than waste the energy, the would-be holy man decided to retire for the night.

Entering his nice (enough) apartment, Father C locked up the many locks on his door, dropped his keys and wallet on his dresser and looked to his bed, its warm embrace calling out to him. As he sat down though his mind began to drift once more to his musings earlier in the night which drew his eyes to his Rifle displayed prominently on a rack on the wall. Father C wasn't a fan of violence since the war, he wouldn't shy away from it though and it never hurt to keep one's means of defence in top shape. Pushing back the deeper thoughts on his own mental well being, Charlie stood up and took his gun down along with his tools for cleaning the armament. Before finding god this was about as close to prayer that Charlie had and even in his current state, cleaning or working with his gun was a tried and true method of keeping his mind off of anything but it.

In a matter of moments though, Charlie's eyes were assailed by sunlight and he found his rifle looking as good as new in his hands. With an unintended smile, Charlie rose from his seat to put the gun back and headed once more for the door, only popping back into the apartment to release some caught bugs into Fred's enclosure before heading out proper. Charlie extended pleasantries to his neighbours as they did the same but turned his full attention to fiddling with his keys to retrieve his mail. His eyes lit up a little as a letter from TIME graced his tired face. Finally he'd have something else to keep his mind occupied.

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Charlie rode his bike into work this morning, hoisting it up and through the doorway of the agency's front as he heard Miss Babson speak. "Thank God. Been itchin' for some work around here, hard to not feel a little useless when you're just waltzing around town all day trying to keep busy, eh?" Charlie replied, leaning his bike up against the wall in the front office as his eyes fell on the clock. Cripes, really need to get a watch or somethin' the pastor thought as he rushed for the back but made an effort not to disturb the meeting's current attendants. It seemed like he was one of the last to arrive so the pastor quickly took his seat as Harry spoke.

On the topic of this Mr.Cornthwaite, Charlie was as hopeless as a rat in a trap. Nonetheless, Father C tried to compensate for his tardiness by giving the produced papers a once over and add to the conversation at hand. "I may be readin' a little too far into it but Mr.Cornthwaite was last seen on the 7th but we the letter from Mr.Dodge was sent at the end of the month. I know people don't go missin' over night but that seems like quite a while to sit on suspicions of such a man goin' missin' even if the police were involved." Father C paused for a moment before turning to address Harry more directly "we got any idea when the sheriff made his investigation? My point might be moot if nobody thought Mr.Cornthwaite missing till later."

Giving the paper clipping a deeper look as well, Father C quickly chirped up one more point, addressed to the group as a whole "Also, I'd like to take a look at the library at some point. Might be worth rifling through the the donations Mr.Cornthwaite made, assuming it wasn't all monetary of course."

Father C slumped back in his chair a bit, not wanting to remove himself from the conversation at hand but also not wanting to dominate it, Lord knows he was prone to it. As he sat he wracked his brain on the Dodge Brothers. He could have sworn he'd heard that name before but maybe he was just mistaken...

REQUESTING TO ROLL EDU CHECK FOR INFO ON DODGE BROTHERS

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Jeremiah studied the newspaper clipping a while - the man seemed preoccupied before his disappearance? - before realizing he was hogging the clipping and sheepishly passed it on. “An expedition? That doesn’t seem likely.” He was talking more to himself than the rest of the group. Margarete’s words stirred a reminder. Tribes...

“I’ve been on a few, and it’s difficult to plan one without attracting attention. You need supplies, transportation, assistants, and financial support. He might not need the financial support, but the rest is hard to arrange. And the notion he could do so secretively for so long is questionable at best. I’m almost certain the university would’ve heard something - our students are frequently contacted to join all kinds of scientific expeditions, and Miskatonic is one of the larger universities in the area.” True, not all expeditions needed to be allied to a university, or to use university students as assistants, but it was a common practice. “Most expeditions do pair with a university, to help publish their paper afterwards.” And that set the lightbulb off in his mind.

“South America!” he exclaimed suddenly, and without context. That came a second later: “Most of his work’s been with South American tribes and lost cultures. He actually did quite a bit of work regarding the legend of Eldorado, though his findings were sadly inconclusive as to its existence.” His voice had grown quite animated. “His last expedition was in 1923 to Peru, to study the local tribes and ruins, and, it’s really quite odd, he never wrote anything about it. At least, nothing public. There were no papers, no travelogues, no mentions in newspapers. He hadn’t done anything since that expedition. I do have to wonder what he found there. Or perhaps didn’t find.” He seemed to realize how he was acting and withdrew on himself. “I still doubt he went to prepare for an expedition. But it does make me wonder, what has he been doing since then? Especially to make such a sudden disappearance take so long to report.” He seemed very awkward, managing to fold in on himself a bit.

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With everybody assembling, she recognized some faces, others not quite as much, though that could have been her general state of mind and body at any given time. Still some had a few good ideas or information to give to the curious situation they had at their hands. She chuckled softly and took a deep drag from her cigarette, listening to all the opinions. Collaborating what they knew of their target of investigation with the general way things went was about right. Suspicious former(more than likely) priest, had a good idea that it was quite a long wait for the Man to start searching for their target. Though it wouldn’t surprise her, rich people were with their own eccentricities and if he was a known explorer and a man that liked to go out there and away from contact every now and then, it would make some sense they wouldn’t be too worried at first. Ellie looked at their ol' pal Harry.

“Harry, dear, I meant TIME in general.” She chuckled, taking another drag of her nicotine source of choice and gave the two documents a quick look over. The things didn’t reveal much, though it certainly put a spin on the situation. A convenient spin anyways and anybody that lived in this blasted city and it’s surroundings should know that convenient things were a lie. Well they should know it, but men are pretty easy to convince to just accept things at face value and not ask questions about the suspicious most of the times, especially so away form the big city.” Thank you for the advice, Harry. We really should, never discount anybody as a suspect ever.” She quipped in a nod, making a mental attempt at calculation exactly what it would cost to travel to their location. She could get one of her lover’s underlings to drive her over, just rent a car or buy a bus ticket there… or given it was a group assignment, one of her colleagues could drive her. ” So anyone here willing to drive us there or should we arrange for transport? I’m willing to cover fuel expenses.” She stated flatly.

“Eldorado...” She began flatly, looking at the professor.” Isn’t that the place that all those idiots with way too much time and money go to search only to die to the dangers of the jungles they venture into ever since those Spaniards heard it from locals all that time back? If that’s his favorite pasttime, I’d guess we are looking at a guy with a death wish, even more if he made it back.” Eleonora stated in sarcasm and amusement, taking a deep drag from her cigarette.” If he made it back and hasn’t written anything that means he either believes he has a clue and is keeping quiet or has given up, and rich and adventurous don’t give up.”

“Look, I say we get going. It will be a decent trek there and we’re already weeks behind him and whatever he probably got himself into.” Ellie stated and stood up, finishing the last of her cigarette and extinguishing the butt in the ashtray.” We are going to have hours to exchange idea and make theory while we travel.”

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Margarete turned to face Henrietta as she entered the office. "Thanks darling, always keeping an eye out for me. It's appreciated." She spoke in a surprisingly soft tone for a woman her size. Some of it was Henrietta was a great secretary, some of it was as well she didn't feel like she needed to make her presence known around her. That always relaxed the big woman.

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Margarete listened intently as the others spoke. She followed along as best as she could, but retaining information has never been a strong skill of hers. She was a commanding presence, a loud voice, muscle when it called for it, and an expert in her field. She also graduated second last in her class. But she did graduate. But the job itself seemed pretty strait forward. Follow what leads were left of their Mr. Cornthwaite, figure out if he was missing or just off doing his own thing, and she wondered if worst case, if it had anything to do with why the lot of them were recruited. "Seems like the kind of Gent who'd up and go off on his own just because he could. But a job's a job." She said, her tone returning to it's usual stern and professional foundation. Though not loud. She did take a moment to read over the papers presented. She again had trouble. Though she wasn't reading allowed this time, her lips were moving along as she skimmed the important bits. And she read at a slow pace compared to most adults. Though she still did her best to hide this fact, there were giveaways that she couldn't avoid without really trying. When she finished up with the papers she passed them along to whoever needed to see them. When she did so, her eyes locked with a small lamp on the corner of the desk. Noting nothing spectacular about it, but it seemed off to her. Was this her own home she would fix it no problem. But not only was it not her own home, she was in a meeting. The way it sat in the corner though, closer to one side than the other. It bugged her to an extreme degree. She'd leave it for now, but she felt almost compelled to fix it.

As Father C came in, Margarete listened as he brought up the library, pulling up local records and seeing what they could find that maybe could draw their attention. "The Library's a good idea. I'd also like to take a look at any notes he had left from his last expedition. If this is him just going off on an adventure there may be clues there as to where he may have gone. I wouldn't mind talking tot he sheriff either. Even if he cut the investigation short, we may still be able to get some sort of lead from him." Or worst case, know if he was someone to work with or avoid. There were a few folks on either end of the bar when it came to law enforcement. It was good to know where you stood with the law.

Professor Dupree seemed confident that it couldn't be an expedition, as rumors would have spread. Especially in his place of work. "That is fair enough, I don't want to rule it out yet though." His sudden exclamation made Margarete jump in her seat a bit, surprised at the sudden noise. But as he spoke, his logic was sound. How could one, even as rich as him set up such a large expedition? "What if he went just by himself? Like some sort of hunting or hiking trip. A way to avoid prying eyes maybe? Or some poorly planned trip? Hell, maybe something so rushed he didn't have time to plan anything of note." Though if he was so preoccupied before he went missing, there must have been some planning? "I suppose that's what we're here to figure out huh? Most my ideas be just theories though. I'm sure we'll figure out more once we arrive in Gamwell. Harry, is it safe to assume our arrival is welcome and not..." She paused a moment, maybe a moment too long thinking of the word to use. She didn't want to say unwelcome, she worried it would make her sound like a child. "Or will others outside of the attorney see us as uninvited visitors?" She felt like a fool, but her face was expressionless as she patched up her broken sentence.

Eleonore had a fair point. Why TIME specifically? She figured there was a couple reasons. But Margarete didn't answer them out loud. She had made enough of a fool of herself, and she didn't want to be wrong in front of everyone. "I got a car, but anyone who rides in it follows by my rules for it." She didn't get a chance to use it often, she walked most places in town, and rarely left town except for big events. Her car though was one of her most prized possessions, and she had full intentions of taking car of it. She was glad to be in a team of people who seemed rather decent at piecing together clues. Or at least good enough to fool her. All the points Eleonore made had sound logic and reasoning to them. "I agree, we can talk and drive. We'll have the time." She looked back at that lamp though. Something had to be done about it. But not yet, not yet.

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Date: Monday, May 4th, 1925
Time: Morning
Location: TIME Agency Office - Arkham, Massachusetts

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""

With each stroke of the minute, the clock mounted up on the wall of the office signalled the possibility of another investigator's entry. After the first three of them had shown up, Jeremiah Dupree, ELeonora Estelle and Margarete o'Bryon, the poultry-named private detective kept up the hope that the two others would also make their presence known. Something in his gut told him this case of Arthur Cornthwaite wouldn't be as easy as one might think, and strength was to be found in numbers.

Too bad he was never good at the numbers, hence him avoiding the accountant-position his father had back in his youth.

Without turning his head to face the door opening, Harry could hear the hushed footsteps of their resident 'priest', the so-called Father C, enter the office. While the three first attendees talked about the case, Harry merely acknowledged Charle's presence with a brief nod, before turning his attention back to the points raised by all three of them - now four.

Which to his surprise was the one to put a spotlight on something odd found in the papers - Father Charles noticed the dates. Harry looked at him, giving him a nod of approval and the briefest of smiles, before chipping in his two cents of opinion. "Keen eyes you've got there, padre. Yes, I found that to be a bit peculiar. You've already got part of an answer there; if no one thought Mr. Cornthwaite was missing, they wouldn't have declared him a Missing Person until much later. Might be quite interesting to talk with the town sheriff about that, and that little 'investigation' of his own. If the newspaper article was published on the 17th of April, sometime between the 7th and 17th of that month. That's for me to ask, and you lot to figure out. "

Next up was the Professor, adjusting the microscopic sight onto the more academic path of the unlikelyhood of the missing millionaire going on an expedition. "Really? Hmm, never thought about the actual logistics of these eggheads going out into places already discovered and inhabiated by people. You make a good point, Professor, where's all his paperwork? Though I can't recommend you go to South America and sip drinks in Rio, might be a clue to figure out why he kept silent on the 1923-business. As I say about the politicians; Giving no statement is a statement in itself."

Following the academic member of the group was the return of the fellow gumshoe, Eleonora the Wisecrack. It came as absolutely no surprise that she attempted to twist her words to her advantage, much to Harry's annoyance. With a shaking head and sigh, the elder private investigator turned to her and fired back. "Next time, if you would spend less time flirting with my secretary and more listening to my introductory briefing, you might have gotten your answer...anyhow, you're right on that last bit. You should all get going. Gamwell is a fair way out into the middle of nowhere, and only possible by three means: horse, walking and cars. I suggest the latter."

Margarete was the last one of the present Investigators to talk, giving further opinions and musings on the case as a whole, and suggesting other places to investigate; the library of Gamwell and Mr. Cornthwaite's notes. "Rarely a silly idea to hit the books, Margarete. But what about the notes of Mr. Cornthwaite? Not a bad idea, but where would they be stored?" Harry was almost certain she had gone as far as she could in the prelimenary questionings, but surprised him with a rather well-thought question; how would they be recieved in Gamwell? "If I may be Frank with you, I don't have the faintest idea. I'm pretty sure you won't be met with banners and marching bands, but expect the same hospitality of any small New England town; some initial reservation regarding outsiders, but slowly growing respect for those acting cordially. In short, don't act like the city big cheese. Got it?"

Harry took one final look up at the clock ticking away, unravelling the realities of their world and its very sciences; time had passed, and he knew they should get going if they wanted to reach Gamwell before it got too late in the afternoon. "Do as Margarete suggested, get there by automobiles. As far as I've learned, Gamwell is somewhere before the of Foxfield further west into the country. Just follow the Miskatonic River westward, and you should come across in...probably later rather than sooner. Here, I've got a map you can use." Harry explained to the Investogators, opening the drawer of his office desk and pulling out a decently-sized map of the surrounding New England-area.

Without further ado, Harry would order the Investigators out of the office and onto the streets of Arkham, to be greeted by a warmer sun than had welcomed them before the briefing. Yes the morning had been cold, with a stiff western wind cooling the streets, but the May sun was still on the winning side of Nature. Birds chirping in the far distance, citizens of Arkham walking briskly down the cobbled streets and removing their thick coats, even children running down the street with some modern toy and long-waiting ice-cream vendors hoping for a fast-approaching June, today was going to be a warm and sunny day for the Investigators.

Which made the sudden chill down each of their spines the more disturbing. What did their primal instincts desperately want to tell them on such a lovely day, that they couldn't see? Perhaps it was just the sudden shift in temperature? Yes, probably that.

It was turning into the latter half of the morning. The Investigators had a long drive ahead of them, and plenty of time to discuss their very first case. However they sorted themselves out and organised their transportation, soon they would all be on their way towards Gamwell - First out of the ciy centre of Arkham, turning left and down the main road following the Miskatonic River, and then straight ahead into the unknown countryside, where the hills and woods were told to be alive.

*You are now to make your way from Arkham to the town of Gamwell, as mentioned somewhere around the town of Foxfield west along the Miskatonic River. Decide how you are going to get there and play out your characters conversing with each other. This is a prime opportunity for your characters to get to know each other, discuss clues and make plans. I'll post a brief Keeper Post once everyone has posted, describing how the travelling goes. Expect two-three Keeper Posts minimum before you reach Gamwell after many hours of travelling. Good luck!*

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“Mhm, I will take this for now. Let's see.” She quipped as their dearest Harry brought out a map for them to use. This saved them a runaround town to locate a map to use. Of course it wasn’t a perfect one, but it was going to be better than spending the rest of the day digging through the libraries in town and the university to find a perfectly suitable map. Once on the road they could ask locals… Probably. This was Arkham and it’s surroundings, Ellie long since had accepted that people here are just plain weird in the weirdest ways possible. Though she too lived here… anyways onto the case! She eyed the map and roughly where they had to go. This was going to be an experience.

“Well, time to get going then.” Eleonora stated and stood up, having finished the last of her cigarette, so she extinguished the butt of it in the ashtray and headed out of Harry’s office, map being gently folded in her hands as she did so. Outside of the grumpy man’s office, there was the lovely Henrietta. She gave the secretary a lovely smile as she walked over to her desk.

“I’m really sorry, love. It appears job takes us out of the city for a while.” She apologized to the woman.” I’m not abandoning future plans for a coffee, but maybe after we return from this case?” Ellie suggested in her french accented voice.” I will see if there’s any good souvenirs to be brought from this trip. In any case, look after Harry while we are away. He appeared a bit too negative today.” She gave a final smile, waiting to hear any reply as she picked her coat from the hanger, put it on, followed by her hat and then after hearing any answer for a future date/coffee from the secretary, she headed out the door, but not before a wink and a quick air kiss from the door.

“Alright now that we are to head out… who arrived in a car and who wants to drive?” Ellie asked in utmost seriousness as she stretched her arms a bit, before patting the folded up map.” It’s appears to be a rather long drive away along the Miskatonic river. I’m pretty sure we will have to eventually also ask locals for directions to find that place if it’s not well annotated along the road signs. As I said, I’m willing to pay for the fuel, so it indeed goes down to who’s going to drive. Keep in mind it looks like it will be hours, quite a few hours of driving. We might arrive late into the day if not into the night, so we may do well to also procure some things for the road, something to drink or eat at the very least.”

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Father C listened intently to the others as they discussed their thoughts on the case. Short of the thoughts he'd already put forward, Charlie was short of anything more insightful. All the while though the 'Padre' continued to wrack his brain on the Dodge brothers, recalling their names and and a rough idea of their looks. His deep thought was interrupted by Harry ushering the group out and get to work proper. Narrowly remembering his bicycle propped against the office wall, Father C made sure to pick it up and walk it out as the group made their way onto the street and into the presence of another TIME employee.

"No pardon necessary. The only thing that's always punctual is a clock and I'd imagine that's hardly helpful in our case of the missing millionaire, mind you I'm one to talk being tardy myself." Father C rambled off to the newcomer before turning his addressing the details of their trip with the group as a whole.

"This is about all I've got in the way of transportation, short of walking that is. Better on the lungs I'd say but I'll be in Gamwell next week unless I can get a ride." Charlie said, hoisting his bike up a bit to emphasize his point a little "I've got a couple of odds and ends I'd like to pick up from home before we take off as well."

There was a couple ducks Father C had to get lined up before leaving town, namely getting someone to take care of Fred and collecting his therapeutic rifle for the trip. He very much doubted there would be a need for his weapon but he wasn't bringing it for physical protection (mostly), it was the same as a drink of warm milk before bed for him.

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Margarete listened closely as Happy spoke. She had some focusing issues, but she figured she got the most important bits. Margarete did her best to follow along when the other members of her team spoke, and though she supposed what they said made sense, she struggled to make much sense of it herself. Professor Dupree had mentioned the school's involvement in such matters, but it all seemed way too complicated for something that didn't need to be. Granted, most of her "Expeditions" were personal and rarely needed more than a boat ticket, some cash, and a location to hash things out. And when Berry, her main contact was in a good mood, those places she didn't need to show up with a gun in her purse. What did catch her attention was Harry's comment against Eleonora flirting with the secretary. That caused Margarete's thought process to pause a moment, and process things. She wondered if the woman was in fact, a Lesbian, or it was a crude jest from Harry. She supposed she would figure out one way or another. As long as it didn't interfere with their work, Margarete didn't mind too much. She didn't know too many, or any on a first name basis, but she gotten enough comments from the opposing sex years ago before she got scarred to hell. They still made comments, but not the same kind. Though she supposed one didn't need to be attracted to a woman to make cruel comments.

Margarete didn't like the response for how they would be received. Margarete was normally at a disadvantage in these sorts of situations. Between her crude social skills, her blunt nature, and just... the other obvious factors. There were always complications without a mutual third party involved. One reason of many why she enjoyed working with Benny yet again. "Big City Cheese?" Sure, Margarete enjoyed the outdoors, had even done some amateur hunting from time to time. But she was about as big city cheese as they came. She was well educated despite her learning difficulties, always well dressed, even when spending time outdoors, held a commanding presence, and she was ill-tempered. She didn't handle being corrected well either, especially in an area of her expertise. "I hope you realize what yer asking there Harry. But I shall do my best. As for the notes and such I wouldn't put it past him to have some personal work space. Either at home or in a place of occupation." She paused, not convinced she used the right wording. Before she let herself get flustered, she took a deep breath and sighed. Not letting it get to her. "When we talk to our lawyer friend, it may be a good idea to try and get keys to such places. See what he was working on before he was lost." She took a pause again, but decided she contributed enough and just took a moment to catch her breath and focus. She let herself get too stressed over her own words, but she had practiced and that would be a quick fix with some controlled breathing.

When she paused, she noticed it again. That Fucking Lamp. It was so close to being perfect in the corner of the desk. And yet, it was off just enough to get to Margarete. It wouldn't need to be moved much, just a little. Just a little bit to help put everything else where it needed to be. She took note of the map to distract herself, but Eleonora had snagged it up pretty fast. It was time to leave, and if she left that lamp the way it was when she left it would be on her mind all day. As they were ushured out of the office, Margarete couldn't wait anymore. She reached out with a couple fingers, and pushed the lamp about a half inch one direction, then less than a quarter of that in another to correct any errors along the way. She did a couple more corrections in rapid successions hoping to fix it fast, each one being less than the last. But within two seconds of the first correction, it was better. As long as it never moved again, everything would be okay. "Have a lovely day Harry." She spoke in her most professional tone as she stood up, smoothed out her blouse, and walked away with all the pride in the world. Her work for now was done.

It was only at that moment she saw Alessa walk in. Another member of their team who would assist however her expertise allowed. "Welcome." Margarete gave the woman as things wrapped up. "It is time to get moving though. SO let's get going." There were some talks of plans, and who shall drive. What they needed. All the good stuff. It seemed much of their group lacked in the form of automobiles. Thankfully, Margarete owned a rather nice car, with a fair amount of seating. She debated a moment not offering it. Like her own home office, it was a space she controlled in its entirety. Once she allowed passengers, she was sure she'd spend countless hours trying to fix it up. But... They had a job to do. Sacrifices needed to be made. She had decided, no one else shall drive her car but herself. That was where she would draw the line.

"I have a car we can take, but we'll need to walk to it. I wouldn't mind picking up a few things, as it seems this may take a while, and I don't think this is a trip we can make every single day for the next few days. I'd like to pack some changes of clothes." She spoke nicely. But another thing that crossed her mind, was the shotgun she kept under the bed. Though this should be like any task she's worked on, something about it seemed off. It could be because it was Time asking her to do it. But remembering how things turned out in France, she wanted to have as many cards in her hand as possible should things turn south. "Cover some gas and coffee and I'll take you there." Margarete said in a surprisingly soothing tone to Eleonora as she began to take her huge strides back to her shop. "After we grab a few things, we can get coffee and get moving. We can either go strait to my place and stop around, or all meet up at my place once we get all of our necessities." Like a 12 gauge shotgun. She supposed they could also meet up at the diner. With a car, Margarete would likely be first to arrive should they choose to split up. She'd have to make sure Berry took care of Sprinkles. The poor kitty would starve without her present for more than a day.

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Dupree wanted to correct Eleonora: the man's studies on Eldorado, while inconclusive, were complete. It was why he had moved onto other, conclusively-existing cultures. But before he could, Margarete spoke up and made the point that the expedition could've been private or poorly planned or even rushed. There was a lot to unpack there, but mostly - why? The man had not been reticent in his work before the 1923 Peru expedition, nor was there any obvious reason to rush. And he certainly knew how to plan an expedition, he was no newcomer to the field. So why would he do any of these things? He could agree on one thing, though: it would probably be important to go through his personal notes for clues. It was improper of him, but he rather looked forward to the opportunity to see the man’s unpublished work. There were often details cut from publications due to length or lack of perceived relation, nevermind the wholly unreported Peru trip. He had no intent to steal the work, of course- he was just curious as to what was missing from his body of work. Perhaps it was hypocritical considering his own redacted papers, but he’d admit as much.

The detective addressed each of them in turn, offering his advice and suggestions. While Jeremiah politely nodded at his turn (of course he wasn’t thinking they’d go to Rio), his attention was held by the advice offered to Margarete. He knew a fair bit about what to expect from small towns, mostly due to his work, and was about to say as much before Harry ordered them on their way. On the way out, he noticed Margarete fiddling with the lamp, which was odd and he pondered briefly asking her about it. But then Eleonora immediately took charge, talking about travel arrangements, and the question was dismissed. He had more important priorities. It was then that the final member of their group arrived and made her apologies before offering suggestions of her own. As the group spoke, it was clear everyone wanted to go home and collect their things before going. Which made sense. He needed to talk with his neighbor about feeding Autumn in his absence (the woman loved cats, thankfully. Less thankfully, he was pretty certain he’d have to pay her to get Autumn back). Still, he felt there was one priority they needed to discuss.

“I also have an automobile, but I feel it would be advantageous if we took only one car. It will be a tight squeeze, but we’ll be able to speak freely and perhaps share some advice to ensure we are able to communicate comfortably with the inhabitants of the town?” The last thing they needed was to have themselves thrown out or, worse, frozen out by the town. “In addition, we will have to survey the town itself to confirm, but many small towns have limited automobiles, which will make ours stand out. If we do not wish to stand out too greatly, we will likely have to walk to most places in the town. If we deem it necessary, though, for the sake of comfort and luggage space, then we may take a second car. Otherwise, it would be wise to pack lightly.” It was important to consider the practicalities of traveling, yes, but also important to consider the customs of the place you were headed to. They would be strangers already, so the more they could adapt, the more likely they’d be able to receive the information they wanted. And in this case, the customs impacted the practicality of their travel arrangements.

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Date: Monday, May 4th, 1925
Time: Morning -> Approaching noon
Location: TIME Agency Office - Arkham, Massachusetts -> Investigators' homes around Arkham -> One hours drive west of Arkham

The late arrival of the group's psycologist-nurse, Alessa Bianchi, fulfilled the last gaps of the unity which constituted the orchestra of investigators. As they were five, a certain sense of harmony had been achived, if one believed in such things. Harry Peacock himself would just have been happy to report to his employer, Mr. Talbot, that the entire Arkham-chapter was finally conducting their investigations he paid them fo. Why, he still hadn't managed to fully decypher yet, but as long as it paid the bills he wasn't complaining. Yet.

Whoever's automobile was to be chosen amongst their various means of transportation, the various Investgators split up to attend to pressing business and/or gathering their supplies. Just as they were quite different figures themselves - Eleonora the Detective, Alessa the semi-Psychologist, Jeremiah the Professor, Father Charles the fallen Priest and Margarete the brawned Antique Dealer -, they would make their ways home and equip themselves with the gear they sought desirable in whatever trials they might face in Gamwell.

In due time the Investigators rendevouzed at a pre-determined location, before ascending into the motorized mean of transportation that was one of their's autombile - a fine, yet fragile contraption for a fine, yet fragile time and age. It was a wonder the group of five could even fit everything that needed there, and somehow the very laws of physics allowed them to pack up their personal belongings and get moving - to others it would have been called "simply packing reasonably".

An hour would pass with the automobile puttering down the New England roads leading westward, following the mighty and enigmatic Miskatonic River as itself flowed out to the vaste ocean. Was the river telling them they were going the wrong way? "Turn around, you foolish human beings. Turn around and flee to the sea! My very source is too frightful for you!" Thankfully rivers did not speak.

Small collections of houses, farms, incredibly sparse gas stations and endless woods passed the automobile's windows, up to the Investigators if they were opened for the slowly heating-up May air or not. A bump in the road there, a sharp turn right here, a farmer passing gently on the other side of the road on his horse and cart, nothing out here was attempting to endanger the Investigators.

Not yet at least.

The floor boards creak above the force of its movements, filling each and every minute crevise as it makes its way to the other side. Searching for something bigger than the hairy creatures with sharp teeth. It hungers patiently. Unseen when it wants, there is no use in running or hiding. Within these walls, it lives omnisciently, yet thoughtless.

Is there nothing left to eat?

Perhaps outside.

**You are all now one hour outside of Arkham. Anticipate additional four to five hours more of driving before reaching the presumed location of Gamwell. Do ask for rolls or suggest social encounters along the route. If not, proceed as normal with interacting with each other in the car.**

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“Hello love, you didn’t miss too much today. Just Harry giving us a job and his stress getting to him, the poor dear.” Ellie stated with a smile to the woman that arrived last. It was their resident medical specialist. The lovely woman that would be stitching them up should anything uncouth happens… or if they encounter the dogs. Yes, the dogs were a possibility, but so were so many other things. Arkham was a weird place. If whatever attacked her back in the day counted as dogs, she wondered what would count as bats… or maybe lizards or fish? She hoped they didn’t encounter any, but she really wanted to find the thing that attacked her one day and put a few between it’s eyes… or whatever it had for eyes anyways.

“Tres bien!” Ellie exclaimed to Maggie’s agreement to provide transport in return to covering traveling expenses and coffee.” That would serve perfectly, love. In that case, I will meet you at your place once I pass by home to prepare. We shouldn’t bring too much indeed as the Professor suggests. With so many of us, any vehicle would be a tight fit, so packing lightly would be good.” She nodded with a smile. With that she gave out a tip of her hat and walked away into the chilly morning air heading home. Well she would be heading home after she passes by her boyfriend’s hangout. The old bar he liked to use.

It didn’t take too much time to get there since it was on route, she greeted the guy standing on the back door, got inside, met the man. Wiled him up with pretty words and suggested gestures. Promises of wild and intimate reunion once she completes her job, wearing his favorite clothing of course and finally reminded him that he should be careful with his ventures and that making sure his targets had enough left to live in relative comfort to recover eventually and grow their businesses meant he would eventually be able to collect once more and thus in the long run making more money. Finally with a passionate and wild kiss that caused a number of wolf whistles from his underlings, they split up, Ellie leaving with a brand new pack of bills in her possession to add to the one at home to pay for her near future expenses.

Eventually she made it home and began putting everything she needed in a small suitcase. It wasn’t big, but it held the stuff she needed it to, in this case mostly clothing and toiletries. Got to maintain hygiene even when on the travel. So she put a spare set of clothing, one more in tune with a casual outing than work related. A small cosmetics case, a hair brush, a bit more spare ammo and of course a book. Then once her small case was filled to the brim but closed and secured, she walked to the kitchen and prepared some sandwiches. She might have been a gangster and a detective now, but she did use to be a housewife once upon a time. She also made a whole thermos of fresh coffee for Maggie. So once she had made a sandwich for everybody, she put them in a bag with the thermos of coffee, picked her case, her purse and then headed out, after leaving a note for the house keeper to clean up later and that she’d return in a few days, maybe a week top or two tops.

After that she made her way to Maggie’s place, got her case stashed away in the trunk first cause she arrived first and then most securely without thinking much jumped into the front passenger seat to ride shotgun because no way was she riding with all the others in the back seats, pushed that close like sardines in a can. She handed their driver the money to pay for gas when they head to the fuel station along with the thermos of home made coffee. With a bit of flirting, but nothing aggressive.

Now one hour after their departure( and a few hours since they began gathering up), they found themselves on the provincial roads, Ellie had her window lowered slightly as she chewed on the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She hadn’t lit it so far, but Ellie was getting to the end of her patience. So she opened the window by her side more and leaned more to it, making sure that most of the smoke was getting sucked out of the window. With that done, she felt the loving jolt of nicotine down her throat.” Anyone want something to eat? Have some sandwiches with me.” She ask offered, without turning, noting a somewhat peculiar looking tree that they passed by. Looked like a tree one might use to hang people with back in the day. Long far reaching and sturdy horizontal branches. All it was missing was the corpse hanging from it… man was she morbid today. Must be the hangover.

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The plan was simple, but it would get the job done. Gather up their gubs, take care of affairs, drive to the job. Simple enough. "I agree, a second car may prove to be a liability as much as a help. One should do the job just fine. I doubt we'll do a ton of driving once we arrive anyways." Her car would likely be used to help move about boxes if they needed to, or if they needed to check out locations outside of town. "If we want to meet up by my shop when we're ready to leave I think it'll make things quicker than trying to track everyone down. It's the beige two story building with the little tower that looks like a bell tower." In actuality, it was just a pretty chimney topper. But she liked calling it a tower. It felt more like an adventure to her that way. She gave a farewell to her party members, and began her stride to her home.

It wasn't a long walk, but knowing she may be gone for a few days was an uneasy feeling for her. Apart of the job, any of her jobs, but she still didn't like it. She would be tossed into environments that were chaotic, and she held little influence over. The same was true for when she was out in nature, but it felt... different in these cases. In nature, she felt like another piece to a grander picture. Anywhere else she felt out of place, and that everyone else there knew it too. Entering her home, she took note that Sprinkles had not greeted her at the door. "Oi, you wee bastard are ya not going to say Hi?" She called out. No reply from the cat. Walking up to the counter of her shop she reached around to grab a small jar of kibble treats and bacon bits. The moment the jar left the counter a little bell could be hear as sprinkles jumped up onto the counter. "Meow." He announced himself with the biggest smile on his face. "Fatass." She called her cat as she gave him a couple of the treats.

Margarete went about the building gathering up some spare clothes, some gear, and some stuff for Sprinkles. Instinctively, the first thing she began to pack was the 12 gauge shotgun. Placing it on the bed with some of the ammunition. Store with it, some of the .45 caliber she kept on hand for her pistol she almost never used. Today, it would sit in her hand bag. Just in case. Grabbing the shotgun with both hands, she put her finger on the release and began ejecting the shells onto the bed until the gun was empty, then disassembled it like someone who had been practicing with the weapon for a long time. When broken down it fit nicely into a small and thin leather bag. Though a bit wide, it shouldn't draw too much attention to itself unless she decided to unpack it. She grabbed 20 shells for the shotgun, deciding if she needed more she could come home or buy more. For her grandfather's handgun, she grabbed 30, plus the six still loaded in it. She would not lack protection on this trip, that's for sure. She'd grab some of her tools of the trade incase her brains decided to take a turn helping her out, her outdoor clothes, lantern, and a bottle of fine wine for when this was all over. A good little reward for the group when they had a job well done.

Walking out back, she began loading up her bags into the Nash Touring. Suitcase for clothes, the rectangular leather bag, and a small metal box that could be identified as an ammunition box for the munitions she brought. The lantern would be packed neatly in her suitcase, and the wine under her clothes. Deciding she should have an option that didn't involve going guns blazing, she would grab the baseball bat she kept behind the counter. There are countless situations where drawing a gun would only escalate a situation, but where violence may still be required. Thankfully, other than the bat, most of her things fit into the two bags, and the munitions box. She figured she still had a bit of time before everyone would arrive, so she returned to her home and approached the sleeping Sprinkles who was enjoy the best of catnaps when his mother decided it was time to no longer sleep. Picking him up with both hands the big kitty was clearly confused as he was hugged and squeezed while trying to enjoy his nap. "Who's a good boy. Who's going to behave for Benny while Mother's working? That's right, you are, you are!" She said in a cooing voice, before stopping and realizing she had done so. "Gawd dammit sprinkles yer making me soft." She said in a more stern tone trying to redeem her embarrassing act her cat had witnessed. Sprinkles seemed more concerned with getting back into the bed, but realized his fate was sealed when the kitty harness that he may have been a bit too big for was attached to him. Despite his biting and tugging at the thing, it would not come off. And Margarete held him tight as she gathered his treats, a bag of litter, and some blankets and toys for the cat.

Rushing over to Benny's she made it short and sweet for the poor lad. He had put up with her nonsense for years at this point, and he did a damn good job doing so. But she did push it from time to time. "I know it's short notice, but I need you to watch after sprinkles for me. I'm leaving town for a job, shouldn't be more than a couple days. But things happen. If it takes longer I will do what I can to update you. I won't be able to share much yet, but I'll tell you what I can when I get back. Make sure to give him tons of love, affection, and attention. Also do not eat in front of him unless you plan on sharing. He gets really upset when people eat in front of him without having anything to eat himself. I got litter, and it should be enough to last until I am back. You'll have to figure out food, but he loves eggs, bacon, salmon, and chicken. You can do cat food but he'll get sick of it fast without something to break it up. I got his treats and toys so he should keep himself occupied as long as his other needs are met. Also, make sure to take the harness off once he is inside. He will begin to bite after a while if he is stuck too long in this thing." A bit of an info dump for poor Benny, but he would understand. "I'll pay you back and then some when I return. But this is important. Thanks!" She said as she passed off the very much resisting cat to the poor Benny, who had to watch there confused and awe struck as the most agitated cat in town was tossed into his arms. Margarete left the young man mouth wide open in confusion, still unable to get a word out by himself with Sprinkles as she closed the door and ran off back to the car.

Arriving back, she was surprised to see Ellie already at her car. Not thinking much of it, she unlocked it and stood by the trunk door as she unloaded her belongings into her car. She would do this with all, a compulsion to keep the situation with her vehicle under as much control as possible. Once or twice rearranging how everything was packed in together. Either for space efficiency, to make sure her most important things were easily accessible, or to just make sure all the right things were in just the right place. She took another note of Ellie getting into the passenger seat of her car. She was used to keeping that one free for her hand bag, but supposed in their tight conditions she would have to adapt and overcome. But once in the car, she had no room to complain. She had been handed money, and the greatest gift god had given the human race, Coffee. "Thank you very much." She spoke in a sweet, yet professional tone to the payment. She took a bit of note of the flirting, and thought no mind to it. It was far less crude than what she was used too before she got burned.

The road trip wasn't all too bad. Sure Margarete drove a little bit too fast for the roads, and very much enjoyed the feelings of the engine of her car going full burn across the road way. But it was just some harmless driving. "If that thing leaves so much as a speck of ash, or a single smug on my car, we're going to have problems Ms. Estelle." She spoke sternly. She loved this car, and it was her biggest financial sink outside of her current home since she left her old family cabin. She wouldn't have it ruined by a cigarette. She did ponder the thought of something to eat. Breakfast had its own hiccups, so she wouldn't mind. But she would hold off for a bit. "I'll be fine for now. But thanks anyways lass. Feel free to ask again when we get there." She continued driving a bit like a mad woman, but they would make very efficient time.

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Date: Monday, May 4th, 1925
Time: Afternoon, sometime around 4PM
Location: Streets of Gamwell, Massachuttets

@Remipa Awesome@rivaan@RBYDark@rocketrobie2@Vertigo

Many hours after leaving what one foresighted invividual might have described as "relative safety" of Arkham's cobbled streets and crooked roofs, the single automobile which had so faithfully transported the Investigators all this way, arrived in the collection of houses, buildings, homes and more. A rustic sign on the side of the road assigned the town as Gamwell, their destiation as of now. Whatever conversations and discussions had taken place as the rubber tires spurred along the backroads of New England plains, hills and forrests, nothing truly new could have been gleamed that would make anything different now.

For before them stood the collective of constructions, each built for a different purpose most regular in nature. Down the road they could see a line of homes, shops and offices, each carrying a different sign indicating its main purpose and inhabitants. Around a corner they would find what could be acertained to be the Sherrif's Office, while at the outskirts what must have been a tavern or guesthouse of some sort. Further down a street they would find a newspaper office. And nowhere in the messy organisation of abodes could they see the mansion of their missing Arthur Cornthwaite.

They were there. Now they only had to choose where to go next. Our beloved and blisfully doomed Investigators had been given a handful of clues before departing, and thus a few options for their lines of enquiry:

1. They could do as told by their boss, Harry Peacock and make a proper introduction to Mr. Cornthwaite's attorneys, the Dodge Brothers. Looking at their watches, the Investigators might have been lucky and reached Gamwell before the brothers have closed down for the day.
2. Visit the local newspaper, the Gamwell Gazette and enquire about their knowledge of Arthur Cornthwaite's disappearance, since it's been written about in the papers.
3. Stop by the local sheriff and ask of the discrepancy between the time of Mr. Cornthwaite's disappearance, investigations were conducted and dropped. Might be a good idea to ask for assistance, if not only what the local authorities have learned so far.
4. Visit the local library and riffle through the aforementioned 'donations' made by Mr. Cornthwaite as referenced in the newspaper.

Where do you choose to go? Do you all go together, or split up the party? And lastly, do you dare?

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With his rifle precariously propped in stowage, his bike affixed to the outside for transport and, a neighbour looking after Fred, Father C was quite calm on the car ride over the Gamwell. He didn't chat much, more so marvelling at the machine's quick pace and the scenery zipping by in through the window. Some views reminded him of battles long fought, making Charlie feel like his mind was a broken record, while others bored him or brightened his mood. It was quite a mundane thing in the grand scheme of things but it wasn't everyday Charlie got to ride in an automobile and he was going to get his worth out of it.

After finally puttering into town it was time to get to work and Charlie felt the need to put forth his thoughts on the team's next steps. "I think we 'ought to make contact with the local law before we meet with the dodge brothers. Getting a read on where the fuzz stand in relation to our investigation'll make things a bit easier I'd think. It also wouldn't hurt to get a bit more info on the situation so we're a little more loaded on information when talking with the brothers." Charlie said, speaking to the group but mostly still looking out the closest window as the buildings flew by. Maybe he'd save up for a motorcycle one of these days.