In short order Mike has managed to pick up Clarke and Byron and loaded them into his truck before setting out to visit Jack’s father. The drive to the Meredith family estate leads you out of town and onto a dusty back road. Silence has enveloped the group as you each contemplate all the strange things you've have experienced lately. You’ve each tried to rationalize them in your own way, as hallucinations or visions, but deep down you know there is something more and that this is just the beginning.

For Mike, Jack’s letter brings back memories that he had long tried to forget. Coming back to Arkham, he had started a new life with Shelly and rarely thought about what he had seen in the war. While he has never really admitted it to himself, the man that Jack was during the war scared Mike. He wasn’t the boy he had grown up with and as the war dragged on that became more and more clear. What scared him the most… was at times he could see himself in Jack. Honestly, sometimes Mike was glad that Jack hadn’t come back to Arkham…

For Clarke, Jack’s letter has resonated on a deeply personal level. Could a man, once lost, ever find the light again? He needed to know. Clarke’s past clung to him like an invisible cloak and he needed no more than to look at Zoe hanging out the back passenger window, wind causing her hair to stream out behind her, to be reminded of that. Was it too late for redemption? What use was it for a man to rail against fate?

For Byron, Jack’s letter represents a mystery waiting to be solved. Who was Lance Blake? What was this strange cult? What had Jack stolen? All these questions and more remained on his mind like a persistent itch that he was incapable of satiating. So much of Byron’s life was reading about other’s explorations into the unsolved mysteries of the world. Now, for the first time, he had a chance to be the man to plumb the depth of the occult world.

The silence of the cab is only broken up by the occasional whine from the tires as the truck rounds a corner.

It’s mid-afternoon when you arrive at the estate. Just as many of your childhood memories have faded, so too has the once grand manor. The stately house has fallen into disrepair and weeds choke the unkempt lawn. You notice that the only place that seems cared for is a meticulously groomed grave plot. The fountain at the end of the drive stands empty and serves as nothing more than a roost for a murder of crows that unerringly watch you as the truck comes to a stop.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:59, Wed 04 Oct 2017.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 1):

Clarke slid out of the back seat and patted himself down as he took in the scene. He ran through the items he had brought: sketchpad, revolver, extra bullets, pack of cards, lantern, matches, a map of the general area, wallet, notebook and a number pencils to record anything worthy of note. He produced the cards from their place in his knapsack with the familiarity of a person who could locate anything.

He cut the deck, riffled the cards, and then started again.

"Not going to work," Zoe said after he'd counted to three. Clarke, aware his friends could see him, didn't reply. He chose to spin a card around his fingers instead.

"Take a long look at that mansion Clarke."

He did.

"You can see it. You can feel it. You know how far Meredith has fallen to get here. And how far he still has left to fall. You think Mike's level-head and resilience is going to save you after stepping through that door? Byron's theories and intelligence?"

Clarke palmed the card, gulping as he saw the crows. "So, what's next Mike? You know these people a little better than us."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:35, Wed 04 Oct 2017.