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Romero
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As another example of the influence of dice, I rolled 'Luck' for @Dark Cloud to see if Morgan managed to avoid bumping into Tomkins, and fumbled the roll, hence the dramatic collision!
In This Fine Town Of Arkham
A Night At Wilde Hall
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft
The footsteps continued to trail him, seeming to match his own hastened pace, and as Morgan Eisenhorn turned onto a new street, his heart sank. The gas lamp that should be lighting the pavement in front of him has died away to a barely visible glow, plunging the street into deep, inky shadow. With the footsteps unrelenting behind him, the slight private investigator realised that he had no choice but to plunge into the darkness. Gritting his teeth, and picking up his pace even more, Morgan pushed himself onwards. And yet, as he moved further into the darkness, his own footsteps echoing against the buildings that loomed up all around him, the footsteps behind him seemed to grow closer and closer.
Nerve finally breaking, Morgan practically broke into a run, the vague promise of safety that the light of the next streetlamp offered calling to him, even as the footsteps behind him seemed to match his pace. It seemed as if he was running through treacle, but he finally reached the corner, the footsteps almost on top of him now, Morgan not daring to turn back to see the phantom that was surely about to lunge. He burst around the corner, and a dark shape loomed up to block his path. He had no time to stop, let alone avoid the shape, and he collided into the figure, sprawling to the hard ground with a painful thud, the figure staggering backwards.
The breath driven from his lungs by the fall, Morgan was still gasping for air when he felt strong hands grip his collar and pull him upright. He found himself looking into a stern face, pale brown eyes burning with annoyance, and a voice that was almost a growl.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
The coachman led Opportunity Knox through the foyer of The Excelsior Hotel, busy with the bustle of the evening, and out towards the street beyond. As he walked, the tall dark-clad figure glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the well-dressed dilettante was following, and the initial sternness of his face seemed to soften as they moved through the crowd. Opportunity couldn't help but notice that the other patrons of the hotel seemed to scatter before the coachman as he moved, although whether that was because of the man's formidable physique, or because of the Wildes crest that he bore on his chest, she couldn't be sure.
As they stepped out onto the street, Opportunity saw that a black carriage was waiting at the roadside, pulled by a single jet-black horse. Again, the Wildes crest was marked across the side. The coachman turned back towards Opportunity, nodding his head slightly towards her.
"Apologies for the interruption, ma'am, but Lady Wildes wanted me to make sure that you made it to Wilde Hall safely. Arkham can be a dangerous - "
A dark shape burst around the corner, slamming into the coachman before he could finish his sentence. The dark shape sprawled to the ground, and the coachman staggered backwards, before regaining his balance. Opportunity realised that the dark shape was a man, a few inches shorter than she was, and wearing a fox-like mask. Another guest, or something more sinister? Before she could open her mouth to ask, the coachman had strode over, and pulled the stranger back to his feet, growling out a question.
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
Any excuse to write a character like he's just stumbled out of a P.G Wodehouse book, I will happily take! Glad you're enjoying it
Another update, and that means another word from me. First of all, we have our first NPC Masquerade Guest, 'Mister Violet', and secondly, this most recent update is a great learning moment for two things!
1) Whenever I am writing update, I am making rolls for plenty of things behind the scenes. A good example of that, is noticing the mud on Mister Violet's shoes. I rolled for both Moses and Renee (against their Spot (Hidden) stats for those following along from home), and Moses failed, but Renee succeeded, and so Renee notices the mud, while Moses doesn't. This is also a good reminder that you have no idea what you might find out when you call for some rolls!
2) We now have two groups of more than two (that is Moses, Renee and Mister Violet in one group, and Alvin, Drachen and Rosanna in the other). If you want to have conversations, then it's going to be a fairly glacial conversation if each conversationalist is only getting one line out per post. Instead, you have the option of getting in touch with each other (and me if you are including an NPC) and working out a longer conversation. Just let me know if you want/need any help setting it up, and I'm looking forward to seeing what people get up to!
1) Whenever I am writing update, I am making rolls for plenty of things behind the scenes. A good example of that, is noticing the mud on Mister Violet's shoes. I rolled for both Moses and Renee (against their Spot (Hidden) stats for those following along from home), and Moses failed, but Renee succeeded, and so Renee notices the mud, while Moses doesn't. This is also a good reminder that you have no idea what you might find out when you call for some rolls!
2) We now have two groups of more than two (that is Moses, Renee and Mister Violet in one group, and Alvin, Drachen and Rosanna in the other). If you want to have conversations, then it's going to be a fairly glacial conversation if each conversationalist is only getting one line out per post. Instead, you have the option of getting in touch with each other (and me if you are including an NPC) and working out a longer conversation. Just let me know if you want/need any help setting it up, and I'm looking forward to seeing what people get up to!
In This Fine Town Of Arkham
A Night At Wilde Hall
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft
With the cursory introductions made, the figures of Renee Bellerose and Moses Reaves made for an unlikely pair. They were both bound for Wilde Hall, and they had both decided to take the quieter path, but that is as far as the similarities stretched. The narrow track into the trees behind them, the pair set off, tracing the edge of the Wilde Woods as they headed towards the point designated on their invitations. They had only made it a short distance before a voice called out behind them.
"Ahoy there!"
Turning at the sound, it quickly becomes clear that they are not the only ones to brave the path, or even the only guest of the Wildes. The man walking to join them stood a few inches shorter than Moses, and more slender, but he seemed to ooze confidence, and a wide smile was written across his handsome features. Sparkling green eyes looked out from behind a black and gold mask, and he was well-dressed. As he neared the pair, he nodded his head in greeting.
"I take it from your fetching get-ups that we are all bound for Wilde Hall? Mister Violet, at your service. I must say, this whole thing really is the cat's meow. All this mystery, I dare say we'll be bumping into a Mister Holmes at this joint. Absolute berries!"
The man had reached them by now, the smile unfaltering on his face. This close, both Moses and Renee would gauge his age to be in his late twenties, but he was boyish in his mannerisms. As he got closer, Renee's eyes caught on something. Despite the smartness of his attire, there was a distinct line of mud on his shoes. It was slight, and in this light, easy to miss, but the sharp-eyed Frenchwoman caught it all the same, a slight frown crossing her pale features for an instant. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Mister Violet continued.
"It's dandy to bump into the two of you, these woods don't half-give me the heebie-jeebies. Like I said, Mister Violet is the name. What titles have the two of you been given?"
Another quick announcement. If you take a wander over to the 0th post of the Characters Tab, you'll see that there are now a list of notable NPC's. Admittedly, this list is currently very short, as it will only gain entries as and when an Investigator (aka one of you) crosses paths with them, and at the moment, only two notable NPC's have been encountered (Parker at the carriage with Drachen, Rosanna and Alvin, and Tomkins retrieving Opportunity). This both hopefully gives you all a better sense of what the NPC's look like than my vague update mentions, and helps me not have to keep finding ways to say "the coachman"! Keep checking here as more NPC's are introduced to get a better sense of what you're looking at (although these 'sheets' will be shorter/longer for different NPC's depending on what their role is)
Masquerade Guests
The Wildes
Male Servants
In This Fine Town Of Arkham
A Night At Wilde Hall
"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft
This close to the figure, Simon Hart could see the wildness in the eyes, and smell the unmistakable scent of alcohol on his breath, but there was an intensity in the figure's stare that he couldn't ignore. The stranger was a few inches shorter than Simon, but he was broad, and despite the smile on his face, Simon couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Whether the figure noticed Simon's feigned ignorance or not, the wildness in the eyes did not fade. Frantically glancing around at the shadows all around them, the stranger took a step closer to Simon, the words seeming to pour forth from his mouth.
"The Wilde Woods... I can smell the burning. They tried to get me, I got away. But the others... The burning... I know they're coming for me. I hear him whispering... Always whispering..."
Before Simon could react, the figure lunged forwards, hands grabbing Simon's lapels. His words were little more than a hiss now, barely audible even though they were practically whispered into Simon's ear. This close, the stench of alcohol was almost unbearable, as well as the thick scent of sweat.
"You need to burn them. Burn them all. Like rats."
With that, the grip on Simon released, and the figure turned away, feet pounding as the stranger ran down the alleyway. Simon was briefly in a state of shock, and by the time he came back to his senses, the figure was almost lost in the shadows. Was the stranger a half-crazed drunk, spouting nonsense to anyone who would listen, or did they know something about Wilde Woods, something that they hadn't told Simon all of? Perhaps he could catch the man, force the answers out of him? But every passing instant put more ground between the two of them, and the party at Wilde Hall was still calling.
The coachman turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and watched Alvin Fennel as he reached the carriage, his face still stern and unflinching. Holding out a gloved hand towards the newcomer, he glanced at Drachen Steinboden and Rosanna Liang as they started to make introductions, his voice a low grumble.
"From here on out, you keep your masks on, and you go by the names on your invitations. Orders of Lady Wildes. So that makes you Mister Red, Lady Gold and..."
The black-clad man paused as he took the invitation from Alvin's outstretched hand, and read it, holding it closer to the carriage's lantern for a moment.
"And Mister Cobalt. Now if you don't mind, I'd rather we were on our way."
With that, the coachman handed the invitation back to Alvin, and reached back to open the carriage's door, gesturing towards it before turning back to adjust the reins, the two dark horses seeming to sense the anticipation and beginning to strain against their bits, hooves stamping against the cobblestones of the street. It was clear that the coachman's patience was running thin, and it may well be for the best that the unusual trio climb into the carriage. After all, one glance at the twisting shadows of the Wilde Woods is more than enough to dissuade anyone from trying to walk to Wilde Hall, and the flickering lantern and shotgun slung beside the coachman offers some illusion of protection, if nothing else.
In an office that has seen far better days, Benjamin Zebrowski jolted awake. He whirled around, trying to get his bearings, before he remembered where he was, and his shoulders slumped. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Benjamin glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, and swore under his breath. He had already forgotten what nightmare had jolted him from his sleep, but there were plenty that it could have been. After all, what he had seen during the war, he wasn't likely to forget any time soon. Trying to shake the last clinging shadows from his head, Benjamin pushed himself to his feet, doing what he could to straighten his clothes, and make himself presentable. After all, he had a party to go to.
He was still adjusting his collar, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. An envelope, slipped under his door. Instantly at high alert, Benjamin closed the short space to the doorway, and threw the door open, but the corridor was already empty. And yet, whoever the mysterious messenger was, they can't have gotten far. He didn't know how many people knew that he was working from this office, but he had hardly been keeping it a secret. Was this stranger a friend, or a foe? He could do his best to catch them, and find out for sure, or he could assume they didn't want to be caught, and inspect the envelope still lying on the floor at his feet.
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