In reply to Israel Levy (msg # 32):

Alright,alright, I can help with the last child.  She's my niece. I have a locket of her hair.  When the others started disappearing, I got worried, but no one wanted to get outside authorities involved.  I don't know why.  When little Ildena went missing, well, I called Bri-er, Director Bres and Agent Mikhailov.  I knew they'd either come or send help.

Dena goes upstairs, and a moment later returns with a hairbrush containing multiple strands.

I know those are her hairs.  She's the only one who uses that brush

I'll pull Levy aside for a second:

Hey Levy, how about you and the ladies go secure the transportation and meet up with the sheriff.  Dena seems like she's holdin' somethin' back, my gut tells me she's not a suspect, maybe one of her kids was taken?


Once Levy gives us a bit of space, I return to Dena:

My apologies, ma'am, you have to excuse Levy, English is apparently his third or fourth language.  Anyway, you seem like somethin' is botherin' you.  You have kids?  I've got a son back in the States with his mother.  Here's the little stinker, his name's James.  I show her a picture from my wallet.

Rapport: 4 (+0)

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 34):

(Your rapport becomes a 6 thanks to the aspect)

Dena looks around, making sure everyone else is gone, and starts sobbing.

They took my niece!  I thought it was over, that kids wouldn't be taken in the night again, and then it started.  But it's not time yet, so I told myself it was something different.  Awful, sure, but different!  After all, the disappearances are always 30 years apart, which means if it is him, it shouldn't start until 2010!

She takes a couple of deep breathes, exhaling raggedly, looking for all the world like she needs a drink.  She directs you to the bar and a bottle of Summersisle Mead.  You open the bottle while grabbing two glasses and sit, pour, and listen.

The mead is sweet, and smooth, and a hint of apples.  You feel calmer, more relaxed, yet still alert.  You notice the affect on Dena is just as evident and quick working.

I don't know what you have heard, agent, but this place has a past.  Every 30 years a number of kids goes missing. I know it happened in '50, then it happened again in '80.  I was one of the last taken. Me and Abby. Except they found me...
She starts crying harder, torn by the memories and the guilt.  You know this face, the face of the tormented.  Suddenly you find yourself wanting something a little stronger than apples and honey.

I could see the disappointment in their faces.  If they could only find one, they want Abby, everyone wanted Abby.  Oh they were nice, they wrapped me in a blanket and hugged me and said everything would be ok.  Except it wasn't.  I was saved, and Abby lost.  and why was I spared anyway? I can see the looks they give me to this day, over twenty years later, like I had something to do with it.

I was found in that cave I told you about. I don't remember much, everything about it is vague, clouded over.

(new aspect: Recovered)

In reply to GM (msg # 35):

Israel, Rebekah, and Ariel grab bikes and head into town.

Wyvis is a combination of small rural village, and tourist town.  In past years, fishing, camping, hiking, and other outdoor activities have brought a boom of tourists both foreign and domestic to Loch Glass, and Wyvis Lodge was ready to accept them before anyone else.

The locals have fought hard to retain the small town identity, and have done well, though occasionally one finds a tourist t-shirt in a shop.  Located in the highlands of Scotland, the air is cleaner, and a little cooler than Glasgow, and the town moves with the slow, stolid speed of a town that would rather be fishing than coddling tourists.  but money is money, and they have little other economy.

The sheriffs office is small but easy to find.  The sheriff greets you, and acts surprised Interpol has come all this way to investigate a case of runaways.

You watch, in a day or two those kids will come back into town, dirty, scraped, hungry, and embarrassed.  It happens every now and then, I guess it's the "mystique of the highlands loch" that's what loony ole Dena put in her brochure.

It happens every now and then, and they come back.  Dena's one of 'em.  She ran off twenty years ago with a local girl named Abby.  Something happened, she'd never say, but Abby's body was never found.  Sweet girl, Abby, hard not to like her, oh she had a temper, but it never lasted. Shook the whole town when she disappeared.

In reply to GM (msg # 35):

Stop right there, Dena.  You don't want to go down this road.  You don't want to do this to yourself.  Don't blame yourself because you came home and Abby didn't.  The only one to blame is the bastard that took you and Abby.

I pause for just a moment as some dark memories claw their way back out of the abyss I had cast them into:

I lost men in Iran, far more than I wanted to.  After I rotated back home, I spent months trying to figure out what I'd done wrong, wondering why I got to see my wife and son again when better Marines were in body bags.  I obsessed over it, what could I have done different so we all could have come home?  Maybe I'd missed something that would've tipped off the ambush we were walkin' into?  Maybe if I'd been payin' closer attention I would've seen the trip wire for that IED?  The fact is, though, that after an official inquiry and investigation, they found that I'd done nothing wrong.  In fact, I'd done everything that I should have done and that's part of why the whole squad didn't come home in bags, myself included.  It wasn't my fault, though at the time I thought I'd have felt better if it had been.  Survivor's guilt is a real bitch.

Stop beatin' yourself up and just thank God that you made it back.  There's a reason that you came back, you may or may not know what it is, but there's a reason you're here.  Maybe there was something you saw that you've blocked out for all these years.  Maybe there's something that you didn't think was important.

I swear to you, as God is my witness, Levy and I will do everything we can to get your niece back to you safe and sound.

I let this stuff sink in for a second and sip the mead a little before I go on with my questions:

Are you and Abby related?  You mentioned that these abductions have happened every thirty years, was it just you and Abby the last time?  And do you have a recent photo of your niece (and what's her name)?
This message was last edited by the player at 04:42, Wed 01 Aug 2012.

For the most part, Israel just listens for anything the Sheriff says that could be important - he doesn't actually expect the sheriff to be particularly useful. It's more of a courtesy call.  He doesn't have much faith in small town law enforcement - problem of living in a big city, then working for the government.  He let's Ariel or Rebekah do most of the talking, observing instead.


When the meeting is done he finds a place outside, away from the town and where his is not likely to be observed and begins to attempt to track the girl via her hair.  He draws a circle in the sand and begins to work up a tracking spell.

As I can take as long as I want to do this one, and am not trying to dover a really long distance, I don't think it requires a roll (book basically says it rarely does), but that is of course, up to the GM.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 37):

to Jacob: My niece's name is Ildena. We were both named for my grandmother.  I have a picture from a couple months ago, she came up here to celebrate the beginning of summer.

As to Abby, no, we weren't related, though you might have thought so.  We were close, though we had little in common.  And we use to fight like the dickens, but it never lasted long.

The town elders covered it all up as best they could.  Abby and I were not the only kids taken that year.  We were numbers 15 and 16.


It's always 16.  From the time of the first kidnapping, there are 13 days. The first 6 are always one at a time, always at night.  Then, as though it was getting stronger, or experienced, it takes 8 in one night. The last night, the 13th night, is when it takes the final 2.

I tried to fight it.  I know this sounds crazy, but I spent the last 2 decades trying to find a way to stop it, if it came back.  I slowed it down, it usually gets the children faster than this, and I'm pretty sure I stopped it one or two nights, and now the time is almost up.  But that's why I think whatever it is took Ildena, to get at me.

We don't have much time! I called Interpol because no one in the town will help me.  They think I'm crazy or involved in it, or something.

Two more things you need to know.  It happens every 30 years, but not this time, which means something changed, but I don't know what. The other thing is that tonight is the 11th night.  The 8 will be taken either tonight or tomorrow night, and the last 2 taken on Friday night, the 13th of July.

In reply to Israel Levy (msg # 38):

The pull is weak at first, but grows stronger. After a few moments of concentration you have the trail, though it is tenuous.  The magic is pointing you north by northeast, towards the mountainous region of this area.


Being former Mossad, you are pretty certain the cave theory is going to pan out.  Whoever is doing this needs a place close to town, but not too close, and the elevation makes it very difficult to sneak up on the cave.

After conferring with Rebekah, you decide the cave is probably short-term, though the magic suggests Ildena is still there.  It is getting late to make the trip to go searching mountain caves.


<Let's face it Israel, we got here too late to go up into the mountains today.  I'd say our best options for now are to regroup with Jacob, and possibly speaking with parents of the other missing children, perhaps getting more hair or personal items.  They may not be forthcoming or helpful though, if they have the same mentality the sheriff has.>

I'm furiously taking notes while Dena's telling me all of this.

If you're crazy, they'll have to lock us both up, the whole reason I'm with Interpol now and not in Bossier City is because I shot a vampire.

Our intelligence suggests that it's something like the Pied Piper, but that's all we had before we came here.  Are there any local legends related to this or has there always been some sort of "official story?"  Is there someone we could talk to that would know when this all started?  Is there any sort of common factor between victims, is it always girls, do their parents have common work, anything?


<OOC>I feel like I'm focusing on the past occurrences looking for insight into how to stop this instead of trying to find the kids that are missing right now, but we need to have some idea of what we're involved in before we "storm the castle."  </OOC>

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 41):

(OOC: You're doing fine, after all, you're trying to determine patterns from the past to discover methodology and what to expect now.)


Knowing you take her seriously and are trying to help, Dena straightens up a bit, takes several breathes to calm herself, and then puts herself to the task of answering your questions.
No connections I know of except they all live around here, and are under 12. You know, now you mention it, the official story has always been they ran off into the woods.  There are wild animals out there, not as many as there use to be, but enough to be dangerous for a lone, unarmed child.  The official story has also always covered up the exact number, or that it happens regularly.

The only person I would trust, the only one I know who actually admits to believing something unusual is going on, is Granny Bri.  She lives in a cottage not far from here.  I need to warn you though, she's 107, and a little hard to talk to sometimes.

She's also Abby's great-grandmother.  I have a map of this area, it shows the bike trails and hiking paths, but I added a few extra sites to it, like Granny's, so hikers don't go bothering her by accident.

Thank you very much for your time, ma'am.  We'll find Ildena and end this nightmare.  I think that pretty much covers my questions unless you can think of anything I'm forgettin' to ask.  I'll be honest, investigation wasn't my job on the force, I was a beat cop that they were trainin' for the SWAT team. *chuckle* At heart, I'm still just a dumb jarhead, but I'm learnin' new things all the time.  Improvise, adapt, and overcome as the DI said all the time.

After hearing any further information that Dena has, I go grab a bike and catch up with Levy and the others, fill them in, and head for Granny Bri's.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 43)

Jacob hops on a bicycle, wishing desperately for the motorcycle left behind this time.  The team reunites as Israel and the girls are headed back up the path from town.  Jacob, having a map to Granny's house, leads the way.

You find a cottage that looks like it came out of a story.  Probably the type with witches and possibly ovens and naughty children.  The yard is in need of care, and vines have covered one side of the house, except for a small hole cute out to allow  for the window.

It is late afternoon/early evening.  The day has lost the heat of midday, and, this being the highlands, the air is becoming pleasantly cool. Pleasantly cool for two of you, Israel and Rebekah are both a little colder than comfortable.

<OOC>Subject line nearly made me spew 10-bean soup and rice laced with habanero sauce out of my nose.  You are a dirty, dirty bastard for giving me the mental image of duct taping and nipple clamping a 107 year old woman!  I sure HOPE things don't come to that!</OOC>

The Vincent would sure be a lot better than this stupid bicycle, though I suppose the bicycle doesn't cause nearly the disruption to the rustic setting that a motorcycle would.  Of course, it would be kind of cool to feel like Marlon Brando right now...

I dismount the bicycle and ever so slightly shake my head at it disapprovingly before walking to the front door of the cottage.

How do you interview a 107 year old witness?  They didn't cover this at the academy.  Here goes nothing...

I knock on the door, loudly but politely and stand at ease in front of the door, waiting patiently for Granny Bri (which I'm going to assume is not her legal name and I'm kicking myself for not asking Dena WHAT her actual name is, addressing a potential witness as "Granny Bri" doesn't exactly sound official enough for an Interpol agent).  When she (or her caretaker, also didn't ask that) arrives, I'll formally introduce myself and present my badge.

Good evening, ma'am.  I'm Agent Williams and this is Agent Levy, we're here investigatin' the disappearin' children.  If you have the time, may we ask you a few question?

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 45):

The door opens to reveal a red-headed girl of about 7.  You can't put your finger on it, but there just seems to be something special about the girl.  Further in you see a guy of probably 16 or 17, fairly obviously her brother, looking to see who is at the door.

Who is it? Tell 'em t'g'way if they're selling something.  Well, unless it's sweets.  Or if they're tax men just shut the door in their face! Don't talk to no revenuers!

The girl decides to let you in, since you don't look like the taxman, and she doesn't see where you appear to be selling anything.  She's a little disappointed you aren't bearing sweets though.

I'm Brigitte.  Come on in, but wipe your feet, I've been cleaning this floor all day!

That's my brother Robert, momma's making him follow me around

Well Jacob, you should have expected this, she is a great-grandmother, people do  visit their relatives, you know.

I politely wipe my feet before coming inside.

As I said, I'm Agent Jacob Williams with Interpol.  We're investigatin' a child abduction case and one of our sources led us here.  I was hopin' we could ask your grandmother a few questions.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 47):

Come round where I can see you young man.  Don't worry, you can speak in front of the grandchildren.  They need to know I'm not crazy.  Old, yes.  Senile? I forget. But just because I talk about things that can't happen happening, doesn't make me crazy.

I know why you are here, agents.  The same reason the child is here.  Well, you are here for information, she is here for protection. The children are always taken from inside the town.  Or so I've noticed, then again, I'm old, and crazy.

Granny Bri laughs the ancient cackle of being the only one to see the joke.  The kids move to their bedroom.  The boy has a look of obedient skepticism.  He does as he's told, but granny's 107 after all, and keep the generations straight.

Well ma'am, from what my partner has told me and from what Dena said, you're the only person we've met so far that has a real clue what's goin' on.  So how about we tell you what we know and you can fill in the blanks?

So far, we know that every thirty years, 16 children are taken in the night.  It happens over thirteen nights, startin' with 1 kid a night until the 12th night when it takes 8 and then the final 2 on the last night.  The only connection between the children is that they're from this village and they've all been under 12 years old.  The last time this happened was 1980, so this time is 10 years early.

I check my notes to see if I missed anything.

Our intelligence from Interpol suggests that we're dealin' with a Pied Piper scenario.  Is there any sort of a deal that the village has reneged on?

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 49):

I feel old, tired, agents.  But I haven't outlived my usefulness, not yet.  I know this happened in 1890.  My brother was taken. i never got to meet him, I was born 5 years later.  But the first time was in 1860.  I don't know why.  I do know the town was founded in 1850, my grandma  told me there was trouble.  I don't know what. All I know is she moved out of town to this cottage.  She made me promise to get any grandchildren out of the town when the disappearances happened.

I've done it every 30 years, using what my grandma told me, protecting the house, hiding the children.  20 years ago Abby's parents wouldn't let me.  Called me a crazy old woman, we had a fight, I lost.  When Abby disappeared...they blamed me.  We haven't spoken since.

Almost no one in the village will talk to me except Dena, and she isn't in the village.

Young man, ladies, other young man, I have a theory.  I think a bargain was made between..*cough,cough*.

Excuse me, I was saying I think the town founders...

Granny Bri begins coughing violently.  The room is becoming uncomfortably hot. You are also starting to feel dizzy.

Endurance: 2, (+4) =6

Alertness: 3, (+2) =5

I attempt to shake off the dizziness and see if I can spot anything that could be causing the rapid increase in temperature.

In reply to Jacob Williams (msg # 51):

You spot a thin trail of smoke rising from behind the couch.  Upon moving it you see a small, smoldering, twisted root of a type you are unable to identify.  You think you see a shriveled face on it, but that's undoubtedly from the disorientation.

My gut tells me that this is some sort of a bomb or something, I'm grabbing it and throwing it out the door and slamming the door shut behind it.

(I've skimmed what I missed, but I'm not totally up to speed yet - I'll reread it all tomorrow)

Drained from casting his first real Thaumaturgy spell, Israel lets Jacob takes the lead and keeps quiet during most of the investigation.

When the smoke starts, he mentally readies a shield spell, preparing to cast it over the group if things go bad.

Lore - 3 to try to figure out what the "magic root thing" is.

Jacob scoops up the smoldering root as though his life depends on it, twists, and is aiming for the window when the oddest thing happens, certainly one of the last on the list of things he would have expected to occur at this time: the root bit him. A swift, sharp bite, just enough to draw a bright bead of blood, not enough to keep the plant from flying out the window.

The air begins to clear almost immediately.

Rebekah and Ariel quickly scratch a circle outside and pull Israel in, then activate it, protecting them from the magic assault on their minds. Working in tandem with Rebekah, a shield is brought up around the house.

Israel recognizes the root as the ugly little face bites Jacob then sails out the window.  It is a root in the Mandragora, or Mandrake family.  This one was old and dried, which is why it didn't try screaming at you.  A little more blood might have revitalized it enough though.  Rebekah heads around to deal with the root, it would not be good for a child or anyone else to stumble upon it.

Levy whips out his laptop and mutters to himself, "Hope there's a cell tower near by," and shoots off an E-mail to Ben about what kind of potion/cure/tea I need to make and how to fine the ingredients.

He then turns to Jacob. "We've got less than an hour before you go all "Howlin' mad Murdoch" on me. You're going to need to do exactly what I say. I need to know what you've been drinking - scratch that, I don't know crap about alcohol - I need to know what you've been drinking is MADE out of."

How recently?  The last thing I drank today was made from honey, I think?