Chapter One: Suffer Little Children
Date: Friday 19th of August, 1927. Approximately 5pm.
Location: Corbis Wood, New Hampshire
*Your characters will be only just arriving at the Couch Station or have been there for a little while. Please do interact with each other and the other NPCs at the scene. We'll be moving to the "haunted house" shortly.
Coach Station: Corbis Wood is a small town or large village, depending on whether you ask the locals or out-of-towners, about a two hour drive northeast from Concorn, New Hampshire. The locals pride themselves in keeping to themselves and not bothering anyone, producing most of what they need and buying the rest locally. Newcomers and visitors find Corbis Wood a quient little place, if a little conservative for their own taste.
It isn't a huge population center, at most peaking at 500-600 people living in and around the surrounding area. No railway directly connencting it to the other towns and cities of New Hampshire, not that it's necessary. A local coach station fulfills the need to travel to and from Corbis Wood. Few townsfolk have invested their time and money in buying at automobile, preferring a tractor or a sturdy horse. But they can appriciate the benefits of having the occasional bus ride.
This is were you are meeting up for the much-anticipated seanse - The Corbis Wood Coach Station. As per instructions from the medium's manager, Mr. Whitefield, the attending members were to meet at the coach station at five PM on Friday 19th of August. The coach station is not a massive building, though not a humble shack though befitting a hovel. The brick walls and shiny sign hanging over the garage doors tell of a sizeable investment, as well as the modern-looking bus parked outside the station. A man in a driver's uniform leans against the bus, smoking a cigarette and flicking ash off of it as he eyes another man, short, stocky and well-dressed. He holds a bundle of small papers in his hand, smoking a cigarette with the other as he talks to a man sitting at the bench.
A younger man in his mid-to-late twenties sits at the bench at the sidewalk, casually looking down the road as if waiting for someone or something to show up. The stocky man talks calmly to him, sending the occational friendly smile to a couple sitting at yet another bench. "It's five-sharp now, Paul. Shouldn't be too long before more people show up. I tell ya, this will be our...your big break!" The stocky man reassurers the young man - Paul - walking up to him and patting him at his shoulder. "It's not how many people show up I'm worried about, Herbert, and you know that..." Paul tells Herbert, standing up and waving off the air of smoke coming from Herbert, his manager.
The clock hanging on the coach station wall continues to clik. A pair of women, young and attractive, the other middle-aged and sullen exit the coach station to wander to the bus, the young flapper eyeballing Paul with sharp eyes. Somewhere in the distance more people approach, on foot or on motorcycle. Someone else comes after the pair of women from the coach station. Whoever decides to come when and where, it is Mr. Whitefield with his slick black hair, stocky and short stature and salesman's smile that catch their eyes.
Welcome to Corbis Wood, next stop Tannerhill House and an adventure unintended.
